#it brings tears to my eyes over and over.

[tonycries]

BUMPIN' THAT!

Synopsis. Handle with care? More like manhandIe - he likes it rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, manhandIing, STRONG boys, breaking beds, chokíng, matíng presses, BREÉDING, creampíes, overstím, oraI (fem rec), pússydrúnk men, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S MOUTHS, cúmplay, innaprópriate use of jujutsu, exhibítionísm (Geto), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 6.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - TIMBERRR

“Tch, this- damn- bed- can’t even hear my pretty girl.” Toji gruffs out - fuming. Thick fingers gliding down your shifty thighs to spread them into a full nelson so wide. So loud. “Ohh- c’mon now, ma. J-jus’ one more- you wanna make hah- Megs a big brother, right?”

This was what had your husband so relentless for hours now. 

This single dream of you all around and glowing because of him was enough to have him puff out a heady pant of laughter into the crook of your neck. Laughter - he was gone. 

“B-but the bed can’t hck! take anymore, Toji.” 

And Toji doesn’t care - doesn’t give a single shit about the way the poor bed frame rickets with a symphony of creaks after every slow gyration. But you do, apparently.

With a pointed scoff, his big beefy arms circle around your squirming waist to trap you to his hulky body. Branding the curve of his fat head into your clingy walls so hard that it makes you see stars-

CRACK!

“Heh, whoops…guess the bed isn’t a problem anymore, doll.”

Now, usually Toji Fushiguro was one to keep his inhuman strength in check. Usually, he didn’t go overboard. 

Usually. 

But oh he couldn’t bring it in himself to feel even an ounce of regret when you gasp. Whirling your drunken eyes around to meet his sleazy grin - he knew what he was doing. 

Pecking a trailway of innocent kisses down your thoroughly tear-glossed cheeks, Toji licks a languid line up the salty taste. And he’s still not stopping. Hell, he’s not even slowing down - could barely even imagine it.

Because Toji Fushiguro is out of control. Feral. Jostling his hips upwards into yours to rummage around your stretchy walls. His thick shaft spreads your gummy channel open oh-so-perfectly to nudge up against your hidden sweet spots, rotund cockhead shooting out wet sloshes of precum.

“Y-you did that on purpose.” you moan.

“Hmm, did I?” he takes a few seconds to mockingly ponder, dark brows knitting across his sweat-sheened forehead in concern. Before grinning, “Yeah- heh, yeah I did-” Barely even giving you the time to snap back before he’s forcing his relentless, fatigued limbs standing upright. Dragging you in midair right along with him - held up so pliantly like some ragdoll in a full nelson hooked underneath your dangling legs. “-but I don’t hear hngh- her complainin’.”

God, if anything it was the opposite.

Because your sloppy cunt was talking for you. Wrenching out the most obscenely syrupy squelches that make Toji’s mouth water. 

Dragging his tongue down his lips and toying with the edge of his scar in a way he wishes he could with your slobbery pussy. “L-look at that. She’s m-more than happy to be all filled up- she’s practically hngh- begging for one more. Isn’t she?”

And you could hear the way that Toji’s deep baritone cracks at the very end. It didn’t even sound like him - unsteady and hot. Begging.

Muscles flexing when he bounces you up and down- You didn’t even know if he was in control of his heavenly restriction at this point.

Bulging biceps bruise into your tender skin when he’s slamming you bent over all prettily onto the cool mahogany surface of your desk. One leg hiking upwards, the other kneeing open your boneless thighs wider. Pound after heavy pound that rattles the furniture against the wall. 

“This won’t do-” he groans, circling the very ends of his fingers around your stretched hole. Stuffing back those creamy dredges of remnants from his cum from just before, “-told ya to t-take it not waste it.”

He’s so mean. Gifting the curve of your pussymound with a sharp swat! that leaves syrupy splatters of seed glossing all down Toji’s palm. His wrist. All for him to dart out a tongue down the filthy mess, before plugging back into your overspilling pussy. 

“M-maybe you should just- ah-” You struggle uselessly in his hold, your bumbling mess of babbles so sweet in his ears that it makes his sensitive cock twitch. “-fill me up all over a-again, baby-”

Oh.

Oh.

Now, he knew you were thoroughly drunken on his cock, but he didn’t think you were already this fucked stupid. Fuck twitching - Toji thinks he could cum right then and there. 

“Ah f-fuck- s’that what my pretty mama wants, hm?” Uncharacteristically gently, he’s swiping away a few stray plaster pieces that had fallen their way down from the wall. “Wan’ me to fill this c-cute cunt ‘ntil she heh- can’t fit anymore, huh?” Bruising now. His hip bones on your ass, fingers around your hips, twitchy balls so heavy and smacking away against your drooling pussy. Veiny knuckles of his clasp around the edge of the desk to fuck you like he hates you. Out of control. “To f-fuck her until she- haah- makes me a daddy a-all over again?”

“Yes!” you’re nodding half-lucidly. Shaky fingers clawing their way over the expensive desk, those office documents you really should’ve been working on, allll the way around to drag red, red lines down Toji’s throat. “Need it- hngh- n-need more Toji so badly-”

And he gulps, eyes glassing over with fucking tears at the sting. So good. Hissing, “F-filthy girl.” Two of his fat fingers dance their groping way down to your plump clit and pinches, “Then ya better take it- all-”

You see white-hot electricity pass by yours eyes when you cum - or maybe that was the way that Toji fucks up his orgasm into you like an animal. 

Feral.

Wave after wave of thick seed being milked so thoroughly by your gripping walls. It makes him slump every muscle of his towering body drained, he’s falling onto two pathetic elbows to crush you underneath his bodyweight. 

There’s so much of him. And Toji only has to blink. He only has to crack his dewy eyes open a mere millimeter, one sneaking glance downwards at your gaping cunt before-

THUD!

“Oh, mama—” he gasps - and you do, too. But not for the same reason as Toji, no, because you’re just now noticing that your desk was sagging suspiciously low. 

You don’t get to ask since when, because in a split-second, you’re being wrangled onto all fours on the floor. 

Still not done. Still not pulling out. Still not slowing down a singular second, Toji rests one of his feet on top of your head. Hard. “Can’t break the f-floor now…can we?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Evil twin?!

“Y-you want me to what?” Nanami’s husky baritone quakes - trembling at your little request. Jittery fingers sensually smack! smack! smacking his sodden tip down onto your sweet sopping pussy lips. Filthy. “Be rough? Are you sure, my love?”

“Of course, Ken. I trust you–” you’re batting your lashes up at your half-delirious husband in a way that makes his lower lip wobble. “It’ll be a good way to de-stress, dontcha think?”

Is he in heaven?

Nanami curls his fingers around that velvety yellow tie he didn’t even bother removing after his overtime.

And he’s so soft when he’s kissing away the pearly beads of sweat on your forehead, dragging his plump lips down, down, down to press pretty peck after peck on your lips. Hushly whispering, “B-but the kids are just down the hall- we don’t ah- don’t want them to wake up…”

You only grin, “Then you better make sure I stay quiet, hm?”

And that string of slurring words makes Nanami pant, it makes his glassy hazel eyes widen almost comically- and, truly, you’d almost forgotten just what your powerful husband was capable of. 

Just how ruthless. 

Because it doesn’t take even a split-second for him to flip you onto all fours. You yelp when that tie of his finds its way to tie your wrists together. All but ripping your silky nightgown, and you…moan.

Oh? He jostles two thumbs to smear your soaking folds open and smiles. How cute.

“S’fuckin’ drenched-” Nanami hisses. Strained. In awe. Peaking in one syrupily coated finger into his mouth and moaning. And you just gasp when you’re being gifted with a bruising smack! right around the rim of your entrance, slobbering out a fresh wave of sweet, sweet slick. “-s’this all f’me, darling?”

“Y-yes-”

Swat!

“Ah ah- none of that. Big girls don’t stutter.”

All you can do is whirl your eyes back over your shoulder because who is this? 

But what you’re met with is the utterly sexy display of your ruined husband - strands of his blond hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. Heaving. Like something primal was just awoken…

Clutching onto the wrinkled sheets, you mewl, “Yes- s’all for you, Kento–”

Shit. You watch as his rosy lips sag open into an oh! before craning downwards to spit a silky rivulet of saliva right into your glistening pussy. 

And even after so many years, even after having kids, you’d still never gotten used to the way Nanami’s girth would split you apart so sinfully. How massive he was. Barging between your pursed lips to feed you inch after hefty inch of his girth, they’re dragging out the most sinful squelches from down below. And from your mouth-

“Shh sh sh-” He’s covering your slack maw shut with all five long fingers, and you keen at the cool contrast of Nanami’s wedding ring. “Quietly- love- quiet. You can do it- ah- y-you can take my fuckin’ cock, m’kay?”

Nanami’s words were every bit of gentleness that his hips weren’t. 

Fucking into you in languid, deep strokes to swipe a steamy wave of precum down your sweetest spots. It was too much-

“W-where do you think you’re going, my love?” 

Fuck.

You didn’t even realize the way that your helpless fingers were closing in around the headboard, gyrating your hips away from the thoroughly mean crashes of your husband’s cock. Blinking away the big, bulbous tears in your eyes, you muffle out a whiny, “S-sorry Ken-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Without warning, five harsh fingers wrap around your tender throat in a vice-like necklace - hauling your limp body up against his front. “If you’re really s-sorry, darling, wontcha be a good girl n’ open that mouth f’me?”

Usually, your husband was the absolute sweetest. Mumbling out sweet praises into your ear and helping you take your time to milk him whole. 

But right now Nanami was impatient. 

He was out of control - like a completely different person.

Treating you like some ragdoll when he’s tugging down your mouth open with a few calloused pads of his fingers. Leering his handsome face closer to spit. 

Missing halfway - on purpose.

Nanami chuckles when he’s lolling his pinkish tongue out to swipe at the translucent splatters. Pinning you to his cushiony pecs with that rough restraint, he’s slanting a syrupy sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Good- fuckin’- girl-”

And the bed creaks. The bed protests - headboard rickety when Nanami slams! one veined arm down and rams everything he has to give - seconds away from shattering, both him and the bedframe. Everything. 

Shit-

Shit shit shi- he swears you just got wetter.

Nanami gapes, powerful hips thrusting and thrusting until your ass scratches up against that golden happy trail running through the middle of his abs. Weepy, rotund head probing against your spongy cervix and just the slight recoil that had him parting stickily from it makes him almost sob. 

“There we go- thereee we go-” Nanami rattles out, hollowed. Every squeeze of your clingy walls around his throbbing shaft was so cozy, fucking you into the mattress until his skin reddened. “-there we fuckin’ go- s’what you hngh- wanted, right? Wanted to be fucked like such a slut?”

“Please-” you’re hiccuping, now fully bent into such an obscene curve and wrangling uselessly. “-yes-  yes yes yes feel s’good-”

You’re drooling now, lips falling further and further open with every French kiss Nanami was placing on your bruised and battered g-spot. Dangerously so.

Dangerously loud.

With a proud chuckle, he’s slapping another dripping wet swat on your plump clit - glissading your presoaked slit. Before bullying between your soft lips to swirl his fat digits around your tongue. Deep. Forcing you to taste yourself. 

His gruff moan is dark. Promising. “Told ya to be quiet. The kids are asleep n’ we don’t n-need them to know they’re gonna be ngh- b-big siblings, yet. Right, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - An example…

Now, to Geto Suguru, sex was an art. Sex was the time he could toy with your pretty pussy until you were crying for more, more, more-

So- why is he here - strong limbs jostling your own into such a painful mating press, swollen cockhead battering and bruising away at your bulging g-spot with each pound. Furious. 

All in front of his association, to boot.

Because, Geto Suguru was angry. 

“Ngh- please Suguru- more-”

“What was that?” he’s leering down, lips curled into such a feral grin that was splashed across his pretty features. And you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, because he’s forcing your knees down to push against your bouncing tits. Folding you utterly in half, he turns to your audience. “Do you think she ah- deserves to speak?”

Through your lusty haze, you don’t get to see the answers. But Geto spits out a husking, “Speak.”

The entire room jolts at his eerie sweet voice - dangerous. Roughened around the edges in a tone he’d never used on you before. 

Batting away a few glistening tears on your lashes, you mumble, “M-m’sorry for ah- costing us the m-mission-”

“Shut up.” And he’s planting a smack onto the sensitive spot on your plump clit so hard that you’re seeing stars - suns, even. Slowing down his mean cadence to carve down every gooey sensitive spot inside you with his throbbing veins. Every rasping word of his was hoarse, punctuated with a thorough clash against the very bottom of your pussy. Pushing your legs up so tight you hear your joints pop! “Do you hngh- know how much I- we trusted you, gorgeous?”

Your nails leave raking red lines down his flexing back, and the way his muscles shifted underneath your touch was drool-worthy. “I-I know- m’sorry-”

“All because ya got a little distracted by the fuck- strongest-” 

And, truly, Geto admits that perhaps he was there to watch you carry out your little spy mission. He admits that the sight of you batting your lashes at a certain sorcerer had him clenching his teeth harder than necessary. Fuming. 

Because you were his. 

It has him looming over the delicate crook of your neck, so up close and personal that every heated pant feels condensed. And he can’t think - can’t do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your skin. Enough to draw blood-

“Fuck! Sugu-” you cry out. “It w-won’t happen again, I promise-”

“Heh, you sure?” Geto grins, but he can’t hide the way the pale column of his neck falls to swipe his inky black hair out of his face. Crushing you like a lawnchair in half, he’s twisting his strong forearm to block your heaving airway. “What do we think? Is our lovely hngh- second-in-command sorry?”

It takes you a few seconds to register he’s not even talking to you, and even more to register the soft, murmuring answers.

You don’t have the right state to even try and understand them right now - but luckily for you, Geto snarls his way into a clash of teeth and lips with yours. Tugging hard on your glossed lower lip, “Better not fuckin’ mess up again.”

Oh, he was still fucking you so furiously. 

Wrestling your pathetically droopy legs further and further up his sculpted deltoids, you’re sure that the tatami mat below would be patterned on your back already. One hand of his cranes behind his neck to pin your ankles together. And Geto-

Shit, Geto was letting his jaw hang slack - drooling. Eyes locked on you and you only.

Whispering, “You’re mine.” The headlock only growing tighter. Dangerous. You didn’t know whether it was from the lack of air or from his ruthless rummages at your mushy walls but it had you so lightheaded. He slides a thumb down your soaking wet slit and presses onto the button of your clit. Hard. “Y-you’re mine here-” Then up, up, up to about halfway down your stomach, splaying out to feel for the lewd nudge of his fat, burning hot head thump! thump! thumping against the insides of your pussy. Inflating you from the inside out. “-and you’re mine here-” Before finally - finally - pressing a saturated kiss onto your lips, as he usually would. “-and here.”

Your leader looked utterly ruined. 

And it’s not long - not long at all - before his sloppy strokes get almost painfully filthy. Before he feels stars burst behind his firmly scrunched shut lids, and his thwacking balls clench. Building and building-

“Open that mouth- fuck! Open it-” Geto hiccups out, plump lower lip trembling at the sheer need. And the very moment your lips are opening just wide enough - he’s pulling out. Your disappointed whine falling on deaf ears when Geto drags himself up to straddle your pretty face with his thick, muscular thighs. And he cums. “Take it- hngh- you’ll fuckin’ take it alll up- wontcha?”

Creamy ribbons of his seed splat their way right onto the middle of your tastebuds and it makes Geto huff out a drunken bout of laughter at the mess he’s making. Thick fingers flying up and down to milk out every pearly ounce of his cum onto your face. 

Heh, it’s not a bad punishment - he’s musing.

Guiding to swipe the curve of his reddened tip along your trembly lips like a little lipstick. You look so much like his that he can’t help but cum- again. And again. And again and again and-

“Sh-shit look what ya do to me-” Geto moans, and you swear it cracks into a whine at the very end. “I can’t- oh fuck- can’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop - he couldn’t.

Greedy gaze locked on you, one massive palm slams! somewhere above your head to hunch his toned body over. Geto’s entire body wracks violently above you with each shuddering wave. Filthy. “Can’t be a-anyone- can’t be anyone else. B-because…you’re mine, right?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Candy Crush

Oh…if heaven exists then it would be right here, right now - with Choso desperately stuffing himself into your thinly-clothed cunt for the first time ever. Breathing- no, gulping in deep heavals of your essence in a way that makes his dewy eyes roll back. 

“B-baby- my pretty baby…are you sure?” he’s gasping out in feverishly hot puffs of condensation. And despite the tiny tremor of uncertainty in his voice, he’s spreading your thighs even further open all for him.

You huff out a drunken giggle, tugging impatiently at one of his sweat-dampened locks. “M’sure, Cho- really need you.”

“Oh, d-don’t say that-” he’s hiccuping, coral pink lips wobbling. And you feel the back of Choso’s thumb swipe down the puffy mound of your soaked pussy, smearing down a wet coating all over his slender digits. “I-I can’t when you say things like that- oh-”

Anything and everything that Choso was babbling is thrown out of the window with just one darting lick at the sloppy dredges of your sweet, sweet slick on his fingers. With an electric-like jolt, he’s popping it into his mouth to suck. That syrupy taste enough to have him bucking his achy erection down hard into the plush mattress. 

To have him gape, “B-baby…”

And before you know it, he’s dragging you halfway down the mattress like a toy to roughly attach his lips with your own swollen ones - too hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. Strong forearms pinning your squirming thighs so hard to the bed that you half-wonder whether it would bruise. His heated tongue darts through and around that sliver of fabric - tasting it.

“Y-you’re ngh! liking this, baby?” you coo, threading your fingers through his strands in a useless attempt to get an answer - but Choso barely budges. Biceps flexing when he cushions you to his body even tigher. “How are you f-feeling?”

It takes him a few seconds to even hear your words - too wrapped up tonguing away your absolutely ruined panties to swirl a sensual circle around your saturated clit. Groaning gingerly, “It feels- ngh- feels like I could cum from j-jus’ this.”

And he was being so honest that it made Choso blush - a bright crimson flush that started from his hollow cheeks and all the way down to his bawling, reddish head. Hips rutting over and over into the silken sheets, but he couldn’t spare a hand to fuck into it right now.

None at all - because Choso needed to have you cum all over his face before he did himself. 

So you gasp when he drags his tongue away with a final, spit-slicked smooch right on your puffy clit. Whimpering out a soft, “R-ride my face, baby–”

That nod of yours is just barely done halfway through, just barely moving your head affirmative before with a sudden nudge of his soft, mountainous palms on your hips - you’re straddling Choso’s pretty face. And he’s not letting you hover - no, the complete opposite, in fact.

You’re being manhandled with a rough hand around your waist to drag your full weight onto Choso’s greedy mouth. Puckering up to plunge his tongue into your sloppy entrance, swirling around a wet circle at your rim before fucking into you.

Pure animal instinct - he’s so messy.

Muffling out a throaty, “S-so sweet- fuck- like candy. S-s’this right? Does this feel good- ah-” Those half-lidded eyes of his are immediately latching onto the way a few of your trembly fingers were dancing their way down to your neglected clit. 

Your boyfriend - your sweet, gentle boyfriend - is swatting away that hand rudely. Brows furrowing together into a plea when he rolls his free thumb over your plump clit. Toying. 

“Nuh uh- m’sorry, baby- m’sorry but-” Eyes blazing. “-s’all for me.” 

He’s so chin-deep into your cunt that every word comes out lewdly garbled, poking the upper half of his face over to suck on one of your sensitive pussy lips and bites. Choso’s dragging his face wherever you’d let him and it was hypnotic. “H-have the biggest fuckin’ c-crush on you, y’know?”

You didn’t know if he even realized what he was saying right now.

“Y-you do?” you’re tittering, core aching with the quick, dribbling gyrations of your hips down onto his face. But it wasn’t enough - it might never be enough and he was constantly leaving a light swat on your ass to make you use him. Faster. 

“Mhmm–” Choso nods and nods and nods and he’s plunging his hot and heavy tongue into your gummy walls. “-the biggest c-crush. I really wanna hngh! make you my- ngh- my lover…my wife.”

“Choso…” you hum, voice sending blood pumping to his beautifully flushed face all over again. And he finds it in himself to bite into your clit and suck. Shit. “-I am your lover.”

“R-really?” In awe.

You don’t know who’s cumming first - you or Choso. 

Because only with a few more syrupy slurps of his tongue on your throbbing cunt, you’re gushing all your juices down the lower half of his face. Forming an obscenely wet mask all down his dripping chin, his nose, all the way up to his cheekbones. 

And oh Choso loves it. 

Choso can’t get enough.

He can’t help but gulp and gulp down every one of your pearly splatters as he fucks you through your high. Over and over-.

That is, until-

“N-noo-” Choso’s whimpering, hands bruising where they’re immediately digging into your waist to halt you to a stop. And his bulging biceps flex in such a mouth-watering way when he’s easily plopping your entire body weight down onto his lap easily - onto his urgently twitching cock. Nudging apart your puffy pussy folds to slide just his fattened tip into the snug channel of your cunt before- “N-need to cum inside. Please- ngh! Need to.”

And Choso’s cumming just from tasting your pretty pussy. 

Shooting out thick waves of his seed, your clingy walls are gripping so tightly around his bolting cock that it makes him sob. It makes him attach his fingers bruisingly onto your waist as he ruts his hips up mindlessly. 

“C-can I taste it again, baby…” He’s gulping at the oozes of cum that overspills a glossy coat down his shaft in the perfect creampie. “-w-wanna see if it tastes sweeter now.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “Both…”

“I should fuck ya stupid-” Sukuna utters, followed by a rough sinking of his teeth into your earlobe. And it takes everything in him to keep out the tiny cracking of his rumbling baritone, to try and not fucking stutter like some weakling. “-th-then maybe ya wouldn’t be able to hah- talk outta that slutty pussy, brat.”

You’re huffing in indignation, biting your own set of teeth into the tattooed skin of the king’s shoulder. Barely even a kitten nip to him. “I-I’m serious, Kuna- I wanna take b-”

SLAM!

His curled first comes down hard onto the decadent armrest on his royal throne. Anything - everything - that’s keeping his composure right now. 

Sukuna spits out a heated, “Don’t you dare s-say it-”

You roll your eyes, jostling your hips a little too sensually when you lean up to his toweringly inhuman figure. All the way up to whisper smugly in his ear, “-both.”

It’s silence, at first.

And you’re not even sure that Sukuna heard you at first - that special word just about on the tip of your tongue once more - before, wordlessly, he picking you up with two of his big, beefy arms. Fully. Remaining two curling around the thick hilts of his matchingly hard cocks to guide them all the way to your tearful slit. 

“Well then…” Sukuna’s dark snicker snaps you out of your reverent awe, because his fat, rotund tips were so swollen. The sheer circumference staggering that you had no idea how they were going to fit. “-better take it all then, woman.”

It feels like you’re being split-apart, Sukuna’s barely even bullying his twin heads to spearhead open your sopping cunt and you swear you already feel him poking around at your womb. He’s so ruthless. Not hesitating for even a second before pumping your walls stock full of his thickened inches. Over and over-

“Well?” he’s manspreading his muscular thighs in a way that makes you bounce precariously. All four arms crossing while he bears you with a sleazy grin you know doesn’t bode well. “Was heh- whinin’ and crying until you got it. Take it, then.”

Oh, he was so mean.

But you weren’t one to back down so easily, either. 

“F-fine-” you huff, hands steadying on his flexing shoulders when you’re gyrating your hips downwards. Gulping up his long, hefty inches that rub against all your sweet spots without even trying. “Shit- y-you’re in so deep, Kuna-”

And this makes Sukuna stiffen, it makes his massive cocks swell even girthier with a sudden rush of blood likely all the way from his brain. Leaving him throughly pussydrunken but in denial. Smack! You feel his sharp nails sting against your ass. “D-don’t think those ngh- filthy words of yours are gonna work this time, lil’ human.”

“M’jus’ saying-” you whine. Splaying a hand down to the nudging divot forming at your stomach, and you’re pressing down hard to thumb over the ruthless curve of his rummaging tips. “-can already feel you right h-here n’ you’re not even halfway- mmpf-”

Sukuna has to make you shut up.

He needs to.

And his first way of going about it is to cover your mouth with one of his monstrous hands, manifesting that second mouth of his from his stomach to smear across his palm. Into a wet, sinful French kiss. 

And his second? Well…

“God- y-you don’t even know what you-” he shudders out, two hands possessively forming a vice-like grip onto your waist. Body wracking with heaves when your clingy walls mesh and mold around his rock-hard cocks. “-what you do to me.”

You squeal - or, at least, you think you do. It’s muffled into your filthy, filthy kiss with Sukuna’s other mouth when he’s slamming your hips down riotously into his.

There’s no warning. No start signal - nothing before all of a sudden the king of curses is bucking your hips down, down, down into his over and over. Like some toy. The stretch is so dizzying that you can feel your maw slack open, drool trailing its delirious pathway down the side of your lips - with his excess mouth happily slurping it all up.

You honestly feel like you’re being ruined. 

Pulled to and fro anywhere and everywhere.

“Heh, too much?” Sukuna has the audacity to giggle - giggle. Low and husky in a hot pant against your ear. 

Yet, of course, the king never apologizes - well, to anyone except you. But for now he’s only stringing his hand away from your mouth, snapping away delicate ropes of saliva from the both of you. Instead, replacing it with another hand attached right onto your plump clit - and with it, his second mouth.

“Oh- shit shit shit-” you jolt. The dual- no, triple stimulation of his cocks kissing swooping glides of precum down your spongy cervix all the way to your g-spot and his mouth sucking on your sensitive nub was too much. Toying with you. “I-I didn’t know you could- ngh- could do- that-”

And Sukuna laughs, only grinding his palm up in a sopping wet smear against your stuffed pussymound to lap up each splatter of your sweet, sweet juices. Dredged out every time his hefty, cum-filled balls slam into your cunt.

“Special treatment fer taking ngh- both of me.” he’s grunting. The third of his beefy arms smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, overgrown digits so large that he’s squeezing into your airway. “Does the queen h-have any more requests, hm?”

You can only shake your head no - anything more and you had a feeling that you just might not be making it out in one piece. That is, if you do this time. 

“Good.” And Sukuna only smiles. Three of his arms slithering their way around your trembly body - the fourth taking its sweet, sweet time to dive into your clit and bite. Lightly. You’re giving up practically every ounce of control to him. “Now, jus’ relax n’ let your husband take over.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Stronger.

“I-I can take it-”

“Toru…”

“Promise- ngh- promise I can take it, s-sweetheart. Heh, it’s you that has to be worried.”

You had absolutely zero idea how an impromptu sparring session with Gojo Satoru - the strongest, longtime rival and absolute pain in your ass - ended up like this. With you flat on your back and splayed out across his navy bedsheets in such a tight mating press, with him running on complete fumes and his revered cursed technique to drag out his- sixth orgasm of the night. 

But you weren’t complaining.

And neither was Gojo - in fact, mumbling out a slurring slew of profanities into your open mouth. Followed by the most broken “I’m w-winning this bet-”

“No-” you’re spitting hot-headedly with a merciless little bite on his pouty lower lip, and it’s so pretty the way his lips grow as rawly rosy as the rest of his blushing cheeks. Leveraging your years and years of practice to flip the two of you over, “I-I’m winning.”

Neither of you could even remember what the bet was about. 

Something about who’d admit defeat? Ah, Gojo doesn’t give a shit - not even your puffy pussy lips were sliding down his overstimulated cock. Sheathing him in a freshly drenched coating of your honeyed slick when you straddle his slender hips and ride.

“Heheh- y-you think this is- oh!” His hands wrangle around your waist urgently in such a bruising grip to slow down your sloppy cadence. And he’s using his powerful arms to completely drag your drooling cunt in languid, lazy bounces up and down up and down up and- bruising. “-this isn’t going to m-make me-”

But he already was.

Oh, he already was with every clingy kiss of your gummy walls around his steadily swelling cock, every syrupy slosh of cum that made his heavy balls clench. And it’s only a matter of time before his thoroughly overwhelmed cock bursts out once more. 

Gojo’s letting his head loll drunkenly against the sweat-dampened pillows - shit, everything was such a mess. From the creamy puddle of cum sobbing from your sopping wet slit, to the way your fatigued bodies were so furiously glissading across one another. 

“Make you what?” you bat your lashes down at him in a way that should be infuriating, but it only makes his reddish tip twitch into your g-spot. “Admit it- ngh- a-admit defeat, Toru–”

But that’s the last thing he would do. 

There’s a sudden crack! of jujutsu in the air, and you already know from who before your stupidly fucked mind even registers it. Because it only takes a split-second - a split-second - for Gojo to teleport from right underneath you being ridden out of his fucking mind to be shovelling all girthy inches of his cock into you from behind.

“Ah! What-” you yelp, precariously collapsing onto the silken pillowcases now. Whirling your greedy gaze over your shoulder, “Th-that’s cheating.”

And Gojo doesn’t even hear you - fuck, he doesn’t even feel alive. 

The only thing one his delirious mind right now being the way your dribbling cunt was swallowing him up so well. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, entire heavy bodyweight slumping on top of yours when he’s jackhammering inch after inch.Tiny, mindless gyrations just to fit deeper - as if your clingy walls had forgotten how massive he was already. So heavy - you could barely breathe.

And it’s only when he’d bottomed out, it’s only when Gojo could feel your saturated folds kiss his fat base, his weepy tip drawing a long line of translucent precum across your cervix that you hear a noise from above you. 

It’s hoarse - pained. You’re halfway concerned before you hear that rumbling groan turn into a bout of laughter. Humorless, so, so pussydrunken. 

Gojo’s eyes glow with miniscule bolts of lightning when he’s dragging your face to crane upwards into his oh-so-feral gaze. The toothy grin smeared across his handsome features made it seem like he was fucking you like he hated you. Whispering - low. “You win th-this round, my girl.”

You feel a sudden spike in cursed energy - and you’re sure every electrical source within the next twenty-five miles does, too. Before Gojo plants one foot on your head and angles his hips deeply to pummel your womb with thick, knocking spurts of cum.

Fuck, every sudden ribbon of seed had him pressing into you ever deeper. Rougher. And Gojo could feel your snug cunt drain his tight balls again. Again and again and again until his furious divot could only pump out a few wispy strings of creamy white.

“God…” Gojo breathes, so strained. He’s swiftly thwacking! a few fingertips against your plump clit - buzzing jujutsu hot on his digits. Swirling those excess dredges of cum to make such a filthy mess of your pretty cunt. “This fuckin’ p-pussy feels so hngh- good. S’fuckin’ unfair-”

“Unfair? You’re the one using-”

And, well, usually Gojo loved hearing you run that smart mouth of yours. But right now all he could do was run his slender fingers over to your sensitive nub over and over - before punishing you with a tiny squeeze. “Mhm- all’s fair in l-love and ngh- war.”

Shit, he can already feel the exact moment when you cum - your toes curling, kiss-bitten lips letting out such a sweet keen of his name when the tingling waves take over. 

“O-of course, you ah- quote that-” you’re babbling out, strangled moans choking out with every clash of his bawling head into your g-spot. He’s memorized it by now. Perfected it.

Probing so deep that you think Gojo’s ready to batter a fat, circular bruise at that spot. Especially when his powerful hands wrap in a vice-like restraint around both your arms; biceps flexing, slack lips grunting as he manhandles your entire body to lift cleanly off the mess you call sheets. 

The strongest - he’s such a show-off.

Snickering when you gasp at the change in angle middair, jostling his expansive cock inside you rummagingly. He’s sweetly coating your insides with a sweltering hot pool of cum - once. Twice. And then nothing. 

Shooting blanks. 

You flinch when you feel the splat! splat! splat! of something wet, slowly realizing that Gojo was crying pearly tears from his pussydrunkenly droopy eyes. Smearing it when he rubs his face into the crook of your neck with a purr, “B-best out of ten…?”

“...”

A/N. PHEWWW I got CARRIED AWAYY with this one oml it was saur fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cameronsprincess]

IM BACK I DONT KNOW IF IM ALLOWED TO REQUEST TWO FOR UR 5K CELEBRATION but can u do a smut with rafe where he does the bull rider position and reader FLIPS the fuck out LMAO

let me just say… if a man tried this shit with me he’d end up choking on his teeth once i got him off me🤠

CW: smut! 18+ only! strong language, bull rider position (really just doggy but the bull rider name has a meaning behind it lmaooo), piv sex, rafe is a diiiick for this😭 slightly angsty? idk.

all 5k moodboards/blurbs here!

“oh god, rafe! don’t… don’t stop, fuck!”

rafe picks up his pace, his hands tightly gripping at your hips as he brutally pounds himself inside you. your pussy clenches around him, squeezing at his dick tightly. rafe loosened his grip on your hips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, squeezing as he leans forward, pressing his front against your back.

you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, his lips ghosting across the shell of your ear. he slows his pace, pulling his cock out of you until only the tip is left inside, forcefully slamming himself forward. you suck in a sharp breath, so close to the edge you could scream. rafe nips at the lobe of your ear, repeating his actions before his raspy voice flows through your ears.

“your best friend fucks better than you…”

the words slam into your head, anger rushing through your veins as rafe squeezes his arms tighter around you, laughing as you buck and fight, trying to push him off you.

“what the fuck did you just say?” you buck, your arms flying behind you and gripping at his arm, nails digging into the skin as you try and pry him off you.

rafe continues laughing, picking up the pace of his hips again, the head of his dick repeatedly hitting at that spot inside you that had your toes curling and knocking the breath out of you, but you’re too angry to even think of the pleasure he’s bringing you right now. you want him off of you. now.

“oh c’mon, baby. stop fightin’ me, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.. ‘m so close, you still want me to fill this pussy up with my cum?”

you claw at his arm, bucking your entire body as you try and fight him off of you, but it’s no use, rafe is too strong, and his grip around your waist tightens with each thrash of your body. you’ve been with rafe for six months, and he’s never once pushed you the way he just did. when did him and your best friend even fuck? did he mean what he said?

red, hot anger flashes through you again. gathering your strength, you begin to fight him harder, needing him to get the hell off of you.

“rafe! i’m so fucking serious if you don’t get the fuck off of me, i will fucking kill you!”

rafe’s laughter fills the room, making the anger you feel grow. he thinks this is funny?

“stop fighting, baby. you’re turning me on, i love it when you’re angry.”

tears fill your eyes as you continue to fight him, pushing, bucking, clawing, doing anything you can to get him off. finally, you dig your nails into his forearm, making him loosen his hold just enough for you to shove him off of you. you scramble off the bed, quickly grabbing his oversized t-shirt off the ground and tossing it over your head. you cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowed as you face him.

he has an amused smirk on his face, his tongue pressing into his cheek.

“oh don’t look at me like that, baby..” he says, placing his large hands on his thighs as he levels you with his own glare.

you scoff. “you said my best friend fucks better than me. while you were fucking me! what the fuck is your problem?!” you shout, stepping toward him and slapping him across the face.

rafe’s head whips to the side, a low laugh escaping him as he slowly turns his head to face you again. he stands from the bed, and you shrink into yourself a little, shaking your head at how ridiculous you look, you’re not afraid of him. you stand straight, stepping into his body, your chest brushing against his.

“god you’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

you lift your hand to slap him again, but he catches your wrist mid-air, holding it in place and squeezing. you wince at the pain, but you don’t back down.

“fuck. you. rafe.” you say slowly, trying to jerk your hand from his hold.

he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. he runs a hand down the back of your head, placing a kiss to the top of it before he says, “baby, it was a joke. i haven’t fucked your best friend, i just..” he stops, laughing as he tries to explain. “i just saw some shit online and wanted to try it out, wanted to see how much of a fight you’d put up.”

you gasp, trying to pull out of his hold, but he squeezes you tighter, not allowing you to pull away from him.

“i’m sorry baby, i shouldn’t have done it, but goddamn you’re so sexy when you fight me. your anger turns me on.”

you fight against him again, not wanting him to touch you. joke or not, it’s still fucked up and you’re so pissed at him you just want him to leave you alone for now.

“that’s not fuckin’ funny, rafe! i’m so fucking mad at you right now! i don’t even want you around me! let me go!” you shout, tears filling your eyes as you try and fight out of his hold.

rafe releases you, allowing you to step back. his face softens when he sees the unshed tears filling your beautiful eyes. “i’m sorry baby, i shouldn’t have done it, my fault.”

you roll your eyes. “your apology means shit to me right now.”

rafe sighs, grabbing his boxers off the ground and sliding them on. he tries to step toward you, but you take a step back, shaking your head. “no. you should go. i’ll call you later.”

“baby-”

you throw your hand up, stopping whatever he had to say. “no, rafe! i’m serious just fucking go! i’ll call you later once i’ve calmed down.”

rafe runs a hand through his messy hair, quickly getting dressed before he grabs his phone and moves to leave. he faces you one final time, opening his mouth to say something but ultimately deciding against it. you stand in the middle of your room, watching as he walks out.

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @oceandriveab @httpsdrewstarkey @drewsephrry @babygorewhore @bloodibambiidoll @rafeyscurtainbangs

[gguk-n]

hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I’m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin — lando norris

coming clean part II lando norris x you —no warnings, just angst (the spice will be back next time, i promise) read part I here requested by anon; "sex while there is the background noise of a rainstorm outside"

“you can only come in if you promise we’re not going to fight.”

lando nodded, eyes soft. he looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. you didn't know that he had only flown home from a triple header yesterday, you swore once the break up happened that you wouldn't worry about him anymore. but of course you did, secretly checking the race results, betrayed by your curiosity.

“the last thing i want is to fight with you,” he replied, barely above a whisper as you took a step to the side and allowed him into your apartment. 

he was dripping wet from the storm outside, immediately ditching the bomber jacket hanging from his shoulders and kicking off the boots covered in your freshly cut lawn. he was apologetic about bringing the rain into your quaint apartment — he felt safer here than in his own place in monaco. he hated it there now, without you, swearing up and down that nothing but resentment and pain lived in those hallowed walls. 

seeing him in the flesh felt different to what you expected. your heart clenched as he leaned against your couch, hands stuffed into his hoodie and dishevelled curls sweeping across his furrowed forehead. being in the same room for the first time in months changed everything, all the fears you’d built up in your mind melted away and the deep regret of letting go of someone so kind and generous churned in your stomach. 

“you look tired, lan.” 

the nickname caught his attention, eyes locking in on your expression to see how genuine you were — hoping to god you were giving him the same look you gave when you were together. 

“i don’t even know how i managed to drive over here to be honest — just can’t sleep anymore,” lando grumbled, feet shuffling on your carpet. 

“then we should go to bed…” 

his eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion, “wha- are you… are you sure?” 

you nodded and reached out for his hand, “come on.” 

lando followed closely behind, heart thumping in his chest as you closed the bedroom door and walked to your closet, “i still have some of your clothes here,” you whispered, handing him a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts.

“thank you…” he managed to squeak out, tears slightly forming in his eyes, “you always look after me better than anyone else.” 

“i know you’d do the same for me if i was struggling,” you stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you exited the bathroom in your pyjamas. 

lando sighed and held his tongue. all he wanted to do was tell you how beautiful you looked and how much he appreciated your caring nature. instead, he crawled into bed beside you and rested his weary head on the pillow. the sound of the thundering storm outside your window would have been enough to lull him to sleep, especially with the warmth of your body so close to his. but he didn’t want to sleep, not with so many thoughts swirling around his busy mind.

“how have you been?” he asked, causing you to look over at him with a chuckle.

“i thought you were tired…”

lando shrugged and attempted to disguise his small smile, “i was but like i said in my text — i miss you a lot. miss talking to you and hearing your voice…”

“sounds like you’re down bad.”

“so bad.” he quipped back, shuffling closer to you like a magnet. 

you shook your head and turned onto your side to face him completely, “i miss you too.” 

“yeah?” he almost sounded shocked, playfully so but there was a hint of genuine scepticism in his cracking voice.

“yeah. miss a lot of things about you…”

“like what?” he taunted. 

“just shut up and kiss me, you dork.”

lando didn’t need to be told twice as he closed the small space between you, scooping your waist into his arms and holding you tight. your noses bumped before your lips made contact, making your both giggle as he kissed you into the mountain of pillows.

a loud crack of lightning outside your window made you jump, instinctively pulling him even closer than humanely possible as his lips travelled down your neck — the rumbling of thunder murmured in sync with your heart beat. it felt like the first time you’d met all those years ago, so young and stupidly in love. 

“i love being with you during storms like this… makes me feel safe.”

“i’ve got you and i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured sweetly in a whisper.  you sighed in relief, relaxing into his touch while bringing his face up to yours with shaky hands. there was a nervous surge of energy when you looked into his sparkling green eyes, slightly darkened by the dimly lit room— you believed every word he had said that night and sealed it with a kiss, slowly melting into the covers as he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

a/n — very rarely does this happen but the spice would not come to me for this one. i feel like the vibe just felt different and honestly, i don't know how to feel about it hahaha i realised a long time ago that writing angst doesn't come naturally even though i'm a moody bitch - maybe it's because writing is my escapism lol #end of (f1) season sale!! —see what other customers are buying ✨

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

--------------------

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Close your eyes

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, angst

wc: 1.6k

synopsis: a stranger becomes an acquaintance, an acquaintance becomes a friend, a friend becomes a lover, only for the lover to become a stranger again.

warnings: light bondage, temperature play, oral (m)

a/n: this came to me in a dream last night and i had to write it idk what this is but anyways i hope you like it?😭

~ masterlist

divider by: @kodaswrld

Close your eyes.

The handsome stranger whispered in your ear as he gently took your hands in his, bringing you closer to his warm body, swaying you softly.

The music was anything but soft, the crowd of sweaty bodies moved much faster than the two of you did, stuck in a moment of slow motion where it seemed like time had stopped and only you and him existed.

"What's your name?" you had asked as his cheek pressed against yours.

"Hyunjin." he had whispered, the name rolling off your tongue easily then, the feeling was right, like it was meant to be, like you were destined to slow dance with this beautiful man in a rowdy club.

Your name rolled off his tongue equally as easily, from the moment he whispered it into your ear, it was already written into his heart.

You hadn't seen him for months since that night, having to help out your drunk friend, you rushed away from him, leaving him standing there as he stared after you wistfully.

As days passed by, he plagued your mind less and less and you were sure you'd never run into him again, that you'd forget him even though his name still rolled off your tongue easily, whenever your hand would travel between your legs.

The soft touch of his lips as he kissed your temple was something you couldn't forget.

He never asked to kiss your lips, never touched your waist, never looked at you like you were just a piece of meat to take home and forget in the morning.

No, he held your hands close to his heart like he needed you to feel it beating, his eyes gazing at yours like you were some kind of wonder and that too you could never forget.

Close your eyes.

Hyunjin had whispered, startling you as you concentrated on your canvas.

"What is it now?" you chuckled, still in disbelief that you ran into him of all people, in a random painting class you decided to take, him as the teacher of it.

"Do you trust me?" his breath tickled your ear as he stood behind you.

"I do." you nodded, a sense of safety enveloping you.

"Let your heart guide your hand." he whispered, his lips grazing your ear as he took your hand in his, guiding it over the canvas before he let it go, still hovering behind you as your eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

"It's so wonky." you laugh at the painting and Hyunjin giggles as he stands next to you.

"Give it some time and it'll all fall into place."

Somehow, you knew his words had double meaning.

Close your eyes.

Hyunjin had chuckled excitedly as you celebrated your birthday with him.

Something was placed in your hands and your fingers ran over it, feeling the texture of dried paint.

He had painted something for you and your heart swelled at the thought.

"You can look."

Your eyes fluttered open and you stared at a painting of you, in a field of flowers, your body bathed in the sun, your dress flowing around you, almost as if you were dancing.

You were happy, your head lifted towards the sky as you smiled with your eyes closed taking in the warmth of the sun.

"H-Hyunjin..." your eyes teared up.

"That's how I see you, y/n."

"What are you trying to say?" you whisper.

"I love you." he says it so easily like he said it a hundred times before, maybe in another lifetime.

Your heart explodes as your hands tremble, tears of happiness sliding down your cheeks.

"Close your eyes. I wanna give you my other present."

You feel his soft lips press into yours and your heart flutters as your hands find each other, fingers entwined.

"I love you." you whisper against his lips.

Again and again, you exchange your love with your lips, craving him more and more with each touch, never wanting to be away from him.

Close your eyes.

Your lover had whispered with a seductive smirk on his face, his eyes dark and narrowed at you.

Your hands were carefully bound together with satin rope and as soon as you obeyed his command, fluttering your eyes shut, Hyunjin gently placed a blindfold over your eyes.

The world around you disappeared in that moment, your only guidance was through Hyunjin, your entire trust put in his hands.

You couldn't see it but there was so much love in Hyunjin's eyes, seeing you be so vunerable with him ignited a fire in his heart that made him believe he was going to love you forever.

Anticipation built up inside you as his slender fingers danced on your soft skin, teasing you before you heard some shuffling and then the bed dipped again.

The rose he brought earlier was gently pressed against your cheek, caressing you, the gentle petals making contact with your soft lips.

A quiet gasp left your lips as Hyunjin slid the rose on your neck down to your breasts, pressing the flower softly into your nipples.

"Hyu-"

"Shh." he shushed you as he continued stimulating your nipple with the soft flower.

Your whole body was worshipped slowly and teasingly until you were dripping sweet juices, trembling and begging for him to touch you where you need him the most.

Hyunjin had waited with a smirk, teasing you with light brushes of the rose over your center before he pressed it against your core.

A loud whimper left your swollen lips, bruised with the way you were biting at them as Hyunjin made you grind against the flower.

"It's okay, doll. Let go for me."

"I- I can't." you needed more, more pressure, more movement, more of him.

"I know you can." he wanted you to cum on the rose, not caring how long it'll take you to get yourself there.

You struggled, your tears gathering at the blindfold, Hyunjin decided to show you some mercy as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, his hand moving the rose faster against you.

Euphoria took over your senses, every touch of his felt heightened and you exploded, spilling on the flower.

"Beautiful." Hyunjin sighed against your lips before kissing you breathless.

Close your eyes.

You said to him, this time he was the one with his hands tied, splayed on the bed and looking pretty for you.

You put the blindfold on him, securing it in a knot before you leaned down to place a kiss on his lips.

"Relax, my love." you said, noticing by his body language that he was a little nervous.

Your hands were gentle on his body, your lips even more so and Hyunjin was soon melting into the bed, almost forgetting what's about to come.

"I'll be right back." you disappeared suddenly, his chest heaving as he throbbed in arousal, desperate for more.

Hyunjin listened to the sounds of shuffling before you finally settled above him again, taking one half-melted ice cube in your hand.

A shaky breath left his lips as you placed it on the side of his neck, slowly sliding it down to his collarbone, pressing the ice into his hot skin.

When it melted on him, you grabbed another one, sliding it over his nipples as he breathed hard, his middle lifting up towards you, his length twitching and leaking, begging for attention.

You repeated the process over and over again, teasing his body and watching goosebumps rise on his skin.

With your mouth cold from an ice cube you let dissolve on your tongue, you took his hot length in, making Hyunjin's legs tremble.

Hyunjin begged and whimpered as you continued, not stopping for a moment until you've milked him completely.

"I love you." he kissed your fingertips when you untied his hands.

"I love you." you whispered, kissing the corners of his lips.

Close your eyes.

You shut your eyes tightly, in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.

When did everything go wrong?

You had no answer to that question but you knew deep down it wasn't the same as before.

And he knew it too.

"I can't keep doing this." you couldn't stop the tears, not after another fight.

"Me neither." he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

"Maybe it's best if we took a break." you suggested, not capable of saying you're leaving him.

"Yeah, maybe it is." he said, and finally glanced up at you, breaking your heart with the look in his eyes.

"You know I love you, right?" his lips trembled.

"I know. I love you too. But sometimes love isn't enough." you had answered, watching his figure disappear down the street after he kissed you goodbye.

It was the last kiss you shared.

Close your eyes.

You said to yourself, just to calm your nerves before blind date your friends put you up to.

With eyes shut tight, you tried to envision a peaceful memory, something to soothe your anxiety and involuntarily your mind drifted to him.

It was only in snippets now, sometimes you'd remember Hyunjin's touch, his laugh or the late night talks you shared, imagining your future together.

A future that never happened as he faded away into the past.

Sometimes you'd remember the pain you felt as you watched him walk away on that night two years ago.

As you opened your eyes, your heart jumped out of your chest as you saw him standing in front of the café, looking at his watch before he glanced up at you.

A shocked expression on his face mirrored yours, and though you wanted to flee the scene, your legs led you to him.

Maybe fate has more in store for the two of you.

Or maybe it was all plotted by your friends.

Close your eyes.

Then open them once again.

To make sure this isn't just a dream.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust

[hellfire--cult]

It was your first ever thanksgiving with Eddie, and you sadly had to work the day before and part time on the same day of the festivity. You were completely destroyed you couldn't cook anything at all for Eddie and Wayne, but--

Eddie outdid himself.

He made the turkey the day before, the smell of it filling up your nostrils when you entered your small apartment. The pumpkin pie was ready to be put in the oven the next day where you worked in the morning.

When you came back from work in the afternoon, there were mashed potatoes with gravy on the table as well, a green bean casserole, and the turkey, and Wayne brought in homemade bread and a pumpkin pie for the fridge.

You could almost cry from how amazing Eddie was to you, knowing you would be stressed from work, and going out of his way to get recipes and follow the steps like a soldier. When you chewed on the turkey, your eyes filled with tears from delight, because it was delicious, and emotion, turning to talk to him,

"We could of ordered stuff, you didn't have to do it all alone." And he was confused at your comment but smiled, kissing your shoulder.

"You don't deserve a pizza for Thanksgiving. You deserve this and if I wasn't running out of time, I would of cooked more things for you." Wayne was only rolling his eyes at the sweet filled interaction and you were just looking at your boyfriend with adoration in your eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I love you and like I said, you deserve the best and I will be the one to bring that for you. Now shut up and eat."

Oh, but another feeling surged through you. This man wanted to take care of you, love on you, dote on you, protect you, pamper you, and just make you the happiest person in the world. You looked down at the stuffed turkey on your plate--

You were impatient now. His laughter and his voice when he talked, his mannerisms of giving a squeeze to your hand or your thigh, and you didn't want to be mean but-- You needed Wayne to go. Your love for Eddie was exploding in other ways, keeping it romantic, but you were in need of showing it to him.

So when Wayne finally left, Eddie sighed and started picking the left overs, but you immediately slammed your hands on the table, making him squeal from the scare.

"Sweetheart, what the actual fu--"

"Take off your pants."

The comment echoed throughout the small living room, with the plate of mashed potatoes in his hands while he stared wildly your way. If he squinted enough, he could see your nostrils flaring and probably steam coming out of them.

"What did you say--"

"You fucking heard me. I need to show you how grateful I am or I will lose my goddamn mind." Your voice was coming through your teeth while Eddie was putting down the plate on the table again and he raised his hands at you as if taming a wild animal.

"Baby, you don't need to do anything, it was a pleasure--"

"I swear to god Eddie, I want to suck your dick until you are dehydrated and I want you to stuff me like you did with that fucking turkey. So... Get. Those. Pants. Off."

Who knew you could get rid of pants in 1.2 seconds? Not Eddie.

[izzy02soph]

Heart of the arena

Just a little something I put together after seeing a TikTok

GIFs made by me 😌👀

______

In ancient Rome, the emperor's daughter, secretly in in love with the barbarian gladiator, Hanno (but she knows him as Lucius). Despite their forbidden love, they meet in secret, not just to be together, but to plot against her tyrannical father. Their hidden romance fuels their rebellion, as they dream of a future free from his oppressive rule.

______

Y/N slipped quietly into Lucius cell, her heart heavy with the weight of their secret. The dim light cast shadows over his weary face, where he sits on his cot. His eyes, though tired, softened when they met hers.

"Lucius, we can't keep meeting like this. It's tearing me apart to see you in cell. We must overthrow my father. If we succeed, we can finally be together, and you’ll be a free man"

"Your father is a tyrant, Y/N. Overthrowing him is a near-impossible task. I would face any danger, even if it means losing myself in the process. But I don’t think I can bear losing you too" He rubbed his hand up and down his face, the weariness evident in his movements

Y/n sighed before walking over and getting down on her knees in front of Lucius, grabbing his hands in the process

"It's not just about us, Lucius. Rome is crumbling under his tyranny. We need to save our people, just like your father Maximus did all those years ago. We owe it to him, and to ourselves."

"Maximus fought for justice and for Rome. I want to fight for us. It would and will be dangerous Y/N." Lucius said slightly raising his voice

“I would rather face danger with you than live a life of safety without you. Together, we can bring hope back to Rome. We have to try, even if it means risking everything.”

Lucius took her hand, his grip strong but trembling with the weight of their shared burden.

"Then we fight. For Rome, for us, and for our future, where we can be together. We will succeed where Maximus could not. We will bring down your father and restore peace to our land."

“For you, I would defy the emperor”

Y/n looked at Lucius, tears pooling in her eyes, not out of sadness but out of the pure sheer devotion she had for Lucius.

Their hearts aching with the knowledge of the path ahead, but also burning with the fierce determination of their love and the hope for a brighter future for both their love and their beloved Rome.

______

Okkkkkkk How was it?? I know it was kind of repetitive but I’m trying to learn how to write this kind of stuff, but I hope y’all liked it? Luv y’all baddies 🩷

[astralis-ortus]

form of affection

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— everything feels... new.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you messed up.

"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.

again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.

"baby?"

you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?

"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"

"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.

"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."

"it's just—"

"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."

it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…

you're embarrassed.

the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.

"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"

"…today."

"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"

"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."

chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—

"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"

despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.

"found it?"

nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."

a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.

but in the mean time,

you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.

"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"

"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."

and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,

"anything for my girl."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[r0-boat]

Feral!Lighter brain rot

I'm very normal about his EP

Cw: Dubcon, consent non-con, rough sex, No beta we die like men

Thank you for coming to my TED talk...*explodes*

Even the undefeated champion can get overwhelmed whether it be from stress or simply becoming drunk off adrenaline from a fight.

All he wants to do is maul the next thing he sees, like a feral animal.

That's what pretty little things like you are for. He tells you over and over that he'd never hurt you in a soft voice that makes your heart swoon. But you know full well that he can.

He knows precisely what you want, You're not exactly the most subtle with your desires.

That thought had been driving you crazy. The What if Lighter: Your sweet, protective boyfriend wasn't so sweet with you? To see you as a toy to play with than someone that he cherishes more than anything else in the world.

Why not give you an experience to remember?

This is what you want. To have him come in just when you're about to go to bed. You're lying on the couch when your door knob clicks and turns. You know exactly who it is... There was only one other person you gave your spare key to.

It's not that you didn't want to see him. It's just that you weren't expecting him; usually, he would shoot you a maximum of three-word text when he came to crash or visit.

But this time, he practically barges in, slamming the door behind him. The look in his eye shivers down your spine as an imposing figure stocking closer toward you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, especially when he left his jacket and shirt, dropped on the floor forgotten. He took his red scarf and wrapped it around his left hand.

"On. Your. Knees."

That wasn't a request.

You looked at him, eyes wide., Whatever was showing on your television was long forgotten. Your legs shook everything, urging you to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted. But something within you stirred inside, whether it be curiosity or blind courage. It made your lips move.

"Make me."

Lighter's green eyes flicker at your blatant challenge. His eyebrows raise slightly. The silence is deafening as his lips curve into a smile. His left hand grips the red fabric as the other takes off his shades, tossing them.

He comes after you in a flash, His hand roughly grabbing at your color, yanking you until he hoists you over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your back as he brings you to your bedroom, tossing you on the bed with little care of where you end up before crawling on top of you, licking his lips. He could practically smell your arousal.

And he was just as aroused as you were. Scratch that He's more aroused than you are. He feels so bad for handling you similarly to how he handles riffraff. But he can't deny how hard his cock was pressing against his jeans.

He lets out a snarl His arms flexing as he tears his pants in two. Before doing the same to your shirt and pants.

"Hey! I just got those!" You yell, hitting his rock-hard chest. It's kind of cute how you think you can hurt him.

"too bad doll, should've listened to me the first time."

There was no ounce of gentleness to how the man handles you to flip over, grabbing your wrists, and tying you with the scarf.

Coating his fingers in his saliva before plunging it inside you. His hand and thick fingers force you open. His callused palm and rough scarred fingers groping your ass spreading you whiter as wide as he could to force his fingers deeper stretching you out for the hardness you can feel grinding against the crack of your ass.

Fuck... Your muffled screams sound so good. He wanted to be at least gentle when he fucks you, but It looked like his body had other plans. Taking you like this was so thrilling. His eyes rolled back as he lost himself in his own lust, ravaging your body till there was nothing left.

"Gonna fuck you... Going to fill you up and teach that naughty little mouth not to talk back!" Lighter growls in your ear taking out his fingers before plunge again in your mouth You're empty hole soon filled with something bigger screaming against his mouth and fingers as he immediately sets his pace.

You're tasting yourself on your tongue. The thought alone was setting Lighter a blaze.

Why do you make him like this? He could feel every ounce of self-control crack and crumble.

He was making so much noise from the bed rattling and his own moans your neighbors could probably hear but to be honest he doesn't give a fuck. All he cares about is fucking all the stress he has built up from god knows how long.

From how tightly you were gripping his poor cock, to your shaking, quivering body and you're sobbing, muffled mess with your tears soaking his thumb and palm, you were close. Lighter was, too. Lighter was so close. And all he wanted to do was fill you up fill your insides tell you were leaking.

You felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder before the both of you exploded at the same time. Lighter can feel you milking him as he came harder than he ever did in his life.

For the first time since he first started training, his body felt sore as he practically collapsed on top of you before quickly rolling off so he doesn't crush you.

When he finally catches his breath, He rolls over to your side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest, kissing your face.

"hey hey hey...shhh It's okay... It's okay we're done... I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

He'd never forgive himself if he did. But he got his answer when your arms wrapped back around him and he saw your beaming smile. He sighs in relief smiling back kissing your lips.

"I guess It's safe to say that you liked it.... Good... I did too."

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[urdreamydoodles]

Could we get some headcannons on how X-Men characters would deal with an s/o who struggles with verbal communication? (I was thinking someone who just struggles with words but they could be deaf or mute as well)

Like instead of talking they use notes, or gestures, or even actual sign language to communicate. I was thinking it’s usually done when the reader is struggling to ask for something directly, or just convey what they’re thinking.

(I wasn’t sure if you’d want specific characters to think of or if you’d want free rein, but I’ll list a few of my favourites; Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit, Storm, Morph, Magneto, Beast)

X-Men x Reader

You struggles with verbal communication

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Morph, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Jean Grey, Rogue, Cable & Wade Wilson

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You’d been living at the mansion for a while, and while most people understood your struggle with verbal communication, Logan didn’t seem to get it at first. He wasn’t rude about it, but his gruff nature often led him to misinterpret your gestures. “What, you can’t just spit it out?” he’d ask, crossing his arms. You’d roll your eyes and scribble something on a notepad, sliding it over to him with a sharp look. He’d grumble but take it, slowly realizing how much effort you were putting into every interaction.

- Logan started paying closer attention over time. He noticed how your hands moved when you gestured, how your eyes flicked to certain objects when you wanted something. He wasn’t the type to ask outright, but he started observing quietly, learning your nonverbal cues like he was piecing together a puzzle. One day, you found him practicing basic ASL signs in the corner of the library. “Figured it might make things easier,” he said when you caught him, scratching the back of his neck.

- He surprised you by using those signs during casual conversations, albeit a bit clumsily at first. When you were struggling to ask for help one day, he simply signed, What do you need? It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Don’t get all weepy on me, kid,” he grumbled, handing you a tissue. Still, the small smile tugging at his lips showed he was proud of himself.

- Logan’s protectiveness shone through in unexpected ways. If someone gave you a hard time about not speaking, he’d step in with a sharp glare that could silence a room. “Got a problem with how they communicate?” he’d growl, leaving no room for argument. You never asked him to defend you, but his unwavering support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- Over time, the two of you grew closer. Logan’s patience, hidden beneath his rough exterior, was a balm to your insecurities. One evening, after a particularly long day, you handed him a note that read, Thank you for understanding me. He read it silently, then looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he said softly. “You’re worth the effort.”

- The shift from friendship to romance was seamless. Logan wasn’t one for grand declarations, but his actions spoke volumes. He started carrying a small notepad for you, just in case you ran out of paper. And when he kissed you for the first time, it was tender, unhurried, as if he was trying to convey all the words he knew you struggled to say. “You don’t need words with me, darlin’,” he whispered against your lips. “I get you just fine.”

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was instantly intrigued by your quiet nature, his curiosity piqued when he saw you using gestures and notes to communicate. “Mon cher, you always this mysterious?” he teased with a charming smirk. At first, you thought he was just flirting like he did with everyone, but his genuine interest shone through when he started trying to decode your gestures without making you uncomfortable.

- He quickly turned your communication struggles into a game, guessing what you were trying to say with an exaggerated flair. “You tryin’ to tell me you hungry? Or you just wanna see ol’ Remy look like a fool?” he’d say, making you laugh silently. His lighthearted approach made it easier for you to relax, even when you struggled to get your point across.

- One evening, when you left a sketchpad on the table with a note reading, I’m not sure how to ask for help, Remy’s teasing demeanor softened. “Cher,” he said quietly, taking a seat beside you, “you don’t gotta be afraid to ask me for nothin’, yeah? I’ll figure it out.” His reassurance, paired with his playful charm, made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Remy’s natural adaptability shone as he started learning little tricks to help you communicate. He began carrying a deck of blank cards, writing quick responses or questions for you to use. “See? Now we both got somethin’ to write on,” he’d say with a wink, making the process feel less daunting. He even started teaching you French phrases, encouraging you to write them down when words failed.

- The moment things shifted between you two was subtle but impactful. One night, you handed him a note that simply read, I like you. His red eyes glimmered with mischief as he read it, but his smile was surprisingly tender. “Well, cher,” he said, leaning in closer, “guess it’s only fair I tell you somethin’, too.” Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his actions speaking louder than words ever could.

- Dating Remy was like navigating a whirlwind of charm and affection. He made it clear that he adored you, using every opportunity to show you how much he cared. From spontaneous gestures to quiet moments where he’d sit beside you, letting your notes and signs speak volumes, Remy proved that your unique way of communicating only made him fall for you harder.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt noticed your struggle with verbal communication almost immediately, his empathetic nature drawing him toward you. “You do not speak much, ja?” he asked one day, his tone gentle and curious. When you nodded, he didn’t press further, instead offering you a warm smile. “I understand. We all have our ways.”

- He quickly adapted to your communication style, finding joy in the way you used gestures and notes. “It is like learning a new language,” he said with excitement, his tail flicking behind him. “And I am always eager to learn.” His enthusiasm made it easier for you to open up, his patience and kindness making every interaction feel effortless.

- One day, you hesitated, struggling to express something important. Kurt noticed your frustration and gently placed a hand on yours. “Take your time,” he said softly, his golden eyes filled with understanding. When you finally handed him a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help sometimes, he nodded solemnly. “You never have to worry about that with me,” he assured you. “I am here for you, always.”

- Kurt began incorporating small acts of reassurance into your daily life, like leaving you notes of encouragement or learning more ASL to communicate with you better. His joy when you taught him new signs was infectious. “Did I do it right?” he’d ask, his tail curling nervously as he signed a simple phrase. Your smile was all the confirmation he needed.

- The turning point came one evening when you handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Kurt’s eyes widened, and a faint blush colored his blue cheeks. “Mein Schatz,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, his tail wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

- Being with Kurt was like stepping into a world of unwavering kindness and affection. He made it his mission to understand you, to support you in every way possible. “You do not need words to tell me how you feel,” he said one day, his fingers tracing your hand. “I can see it in your eyes. And I will always speak for the both of us, if you need.”

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott was initially unsure of how to approach you. He respected your quiet nature but didn’t want to overstep. When he saw you using notes and gestures to communicate, he made a conscious effort to pay attention, his leadership instincts kicking in. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make things easier,” he said one day, his tone sincere.

- He started picking up on your cues quickly, his analytical mind piecing together patterns in your gestures. “You don’t have to rush,” he’d say whenever you hesitated, giving you the space to communicate at your own pace. His patience surprised you, his usually stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

- One day, after a training session, you handed Scott a note that read, I feel like I’m slowing everyone down. He frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team, and we support each other. Don’t ever feel like you’re a burden.” His words were firm but full of warmth, his unwavering belief in you shining through.

- Scott began making small adjustments to accommodate your communication style, like keeping a whiteboard in the common areas or encouraging others to be more patient. “It’s not about how you communicate,” he told you one evening. “It’s about making sure you’re heard.” His support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed Scott a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. He read it silently, then looked up at you with a rare, soft smile. “I care about you too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The kiss that followed was tender, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious.

- Being with Scott meant being with someone who valued every part of you. He made sure you always felt included, never letting your struggles define you. “You don’t need to say a word,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “I’ll always understand.” His quiet devotion was a constant reminder that love didn’t need words to thrive.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo was naturally drawn to your quiet strength. She noticed your use of notes and gestures early on, her sharp intuition picking up on how you often hesitated to ask for help. She approached you with her characteristic grace, offering you a kind smile. “You speak in your own way,” she said softly. “And I’d like to listen, if you’ll let me.” Her calm understanding put you at ease immediately.

- Ororo quickly adapted to your style of communication. She never rushed you, instead waiting patiently for you to finish writing or signing. “Take your time,” she’d say whenever she noticed you struggling. Her respect for your pace made you feel valued, and you found yourself opening up more around her.

- One day, you handed her a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for what I need sometimes. Ororo’s serene expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand over yours. “You’ve already asked by sharing this with me,” she said. “Let me help you carry that weight.” Her words felt like a soothing balm, her unwavering support reassuring you in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Over time, Ororo began incorporating subtle gestures to show her understanding. She’d leave small notes of encouragement in places she knew you’d find them, or create gentle winds to carry your written messages to her during training sessions. Her actions spoke louder than words, and they reminded you daily of her care for you.

- The turning point came during a quiet evening in the garden. You handed Ororo a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight as she read your message, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “The feeling is mutual,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. She leaned in to kiss your forehead, her touch as gentle as a summer breeze.

- Being with Ororo was like standing in the eye of a storm—peaceful yet powerful. She made you feel seen and cherished, her understanding and empathy creating a safe space for your love to flourish. “Your voice is beautiful,” she told you one day, tracing your hand with hers. “Even if it’s not always spoken aloud, it still reaches me.”

Kevin Sydney aka. Morph

- Morph immediately took an interest in you, his playful nature making him curious about your quiet demeanor. “So, what’s the deal?” he asked one day, his tone lighthearted. When you handed him a note explaining that you struggled with verbal communication, his face lit up with excitement. “A challenge, huh? I love a good puzzle!”

- He made it his mission to understand your gestures and notes, often turning your interactions into a game. “Okay, charades it is!” he’d say, mimicking your motions in exaggerated ways that made you laugh. His humor took the pressure off, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I’m not good at asking for help. Morph read it aloud, then gave you a dramatic bow. “Lucky for you, I’m great at helping!” he said with a grin. Despite his joking tone, his sincerity was evident in the way he stuck around, always ready to lend a hand.

- Morph’s shape-shifting abilities came in handy when it came to communicating. He’d transform into a giant hand to mimic your gestures or into a cartoonish version of himself to make you laugh when you were feeling down. His creativity knew no bounds, and his efforts to connect with you were as entertaining as they were heartfelt.

- The moment things shifted between you was as spontaneous as Morph himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I like you. He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “I knew it!” he said, pulling you into a spin. When he set you down, his usual joking demeanor softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I like you too,” he said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

- Being with Morph was an adventure in every sense of the word. He made sure you never felt isolated, using his humor and shape-shifting to keep things light and fun. “You don’t have to say a word,” he told you one day, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I can read you loud and clear, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik was initially perplexed by your communication style, his analytical mind trying to make sense of your hesitations. When he realized you relied on notes and gestures, he was intrigued rather than dismissive. “An unconventional approach,” he mused. “But effective, nonetheless.” His curiosity made you nervous at first, but his lack of judgment slowly put you at ease.

- He began studying your gestures with the same intensity he applied to everything else, determined to understand you fully. “Communication is an art,” he said one day, watching as you wrote something down. “And you are a master of it, even without words.” His respect for your efforts made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

- One evening, you handed Erik a note that read, I feel like I’m a burden. He read it silently, his expression darkening. “You are not a burden,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are resourceful, intelligent, and resilient. Never diminish yourself in my presence again.” His words, though blunt, were filled with an undeniable care that warmed your heart.

- Erik’s efforts to support you were both subtle and grand. He’d manipulate small metal objects to write words in the air for you or create intricate metal sculptures to convey messages when you struggled. His actions showed a thoughtfulness that contrasted sharply with his usual stern demeanor.

- The turning point came during a quiet moment in his study. You slid him a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. Erik’s sharp eyes softened as he read your words. He set the note down carefully, then reached for your hand. “And I care for you,” he said, his voice low and steady. His kiss was deliberate, filled with the kind of intensity that only Erik could bring.

- Being with Erik was like standing beside a force of nature—powerful, unyielding, and deeply protective. He made sure you always felt valued, his actions speaking louder than any words ever could. “You don’t need to speak,” he told you one evening, his hand resting gently on yours. “Your presence is enough.”

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank was fascinated by your unique way of communicating, his scientific mind eager to understand the nuances of your gestures and notes. “A fascinating approach,” he said the first time he saw you write something down. “May I inquire further?” His genuine interest made you feel less self-conscious, and you found yourself opening up to him quickly.

- He started keeping a notebook nearby, jotting down your cues and gestures like he was studying a new language. “It’s remarkable how much you can convey without words,” he said one day, his admiration evident. His encouragement made you feel proud of your communication style, rather than ashamed of it.

- One afternoon, you left a note in his lab that read, I feel like I’m too much work for people. When Hank found it, his brow furrowed, and he immediately sought you out. “You are never too much work,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “If anything, you’ve taught me to see the world in a new way, and I’m grateful for that.”

- Hank’s support manifested in practical ways. He developed small devices to make it easier for you to communicate, like a digital notepad that converted your writing into speech. “A little invention of mine,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I hope it’s helpful.” His thoughtfulness left you speechless, your gratitude clear in the way you hugged him tightly.

- The moment your relationship shifted was as gentle as Hank himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Hank read it carefully, his blue fur bristling slightly as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “The feeling is mutual,” he said, his voice soft. His kiss was tentative but warm, filled with the quiet intensity that defined him.

- Being with Hank was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding. He made sure you always felt supported, his kindness and intellect creating a safe space for your love to grow. “Your voice is unique,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “And I consider it an honor to understand it.”

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean noticed your quiet demeanor and alternative way of communicating long before you realized. She often caught glimpses of your emotions through her telepathy, though she never intruded. When you passed her notes or gestured instead of speaking, she responded with patience and understanding, letting you take the lead. “Take your time,” she’d say softly, her gentle smile a constant reassurance.

- Jean quickly adapted to your style, finding ways to bridge the gaps in communication. She subtly enhanced your gestures with her telepathy, sensing what you meant before you could even fully convey it. “It’s like we have our own secret language,” she teased one day, her green eyes sparkling. Her ability to meet you halfway made you feel less alone.

- One day, during a quiet moment in the mansion’s library, you hesitated before passing her a note. It read, Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong here. Jean’s expression softened as she read it, and she reached out to take your hand. “You belong wherever you choose to be,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “And right now, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

- Jean began leaving small notes for you as well, little affirmations that brightened your day. “You’re stronger than you think,” one read, tucked under your door. “You don’t have to say a word for me to know how amazing you are,” said another, left with your breakfast. These gestures reminded you that she was always thinking of you, even in the smallest ways.

- The shift in your relationship came during a walk through the garden. You handed her a note that read, I care about you, more than I probably should. Jean’s face lit up with a radiant smile, and she reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I feel the same way.” Her kiss was gentle and warm, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

- Being with Jean felt like basking in a calm, nurturing presence. She understood you deeply, both through her powers and her heart. “You don’t need words to express yourself,” she told you one day, her hand resting lightly on your cheek. “You’ve already said everything I need to hear.”

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue was drawn to your quiet, introspective nature. She was no stranger to feeling out of place, and when she noticed your reliance on notes and gestures, she connected with you immediately. “Ah reckon we’re both a little unconventional,” she said one day, her Southern drawl soft. “But that’s what makes us unique.”

- She made it her mission to understand your style of communication, often using humor to lighten the mood. “What’s this one mean?” she’d joke, mimicking your gestures dramatically. Her teasing was never mean-spirited, and her playful attitude made it easier for you to relax around her.

- One afternoon, you left her a note that read, I’m afraid people will get tired of me. Rogue’s gloved hand tightened around the paper, her expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “Sugar, if anyone ever makes ya feel that way, they’re not worth your time,” she said firmly. “Ah’ll never get tired of ya, that’s for sure.”

- Rogue’s physical limitations due to her powers didn’t stop her from showing her care. She’d use small gestures like slipping notes into your jacket pocket or brushing her covered hand against yours to reassure you. Her creativity in expressing her feelings mirrored your own, making you feel understood on a deeper level.

- The turning point came during a late-night conversation in the mansion’s common room. You passed her a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Rogue’s green eyes widened, and she bit her lip nervously. “Ah’ve been feelin’ the same way,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned in, her gloved hand cupping your cheek as she kissed you carefully, mindful of her powers.

- Being with Rogue was like finding a kindred spirit. She understood the challenges of feeling different and made sure you never felt isolated. “You don’t need to say a thing, darlin’,” she told you one day, her smile soft and warm. “Ah know exactly how ya feel.”

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- Cable’s gruff exterior initially made you hesitant to approach him, but he surprised you with his patience and attentiveness. He noticed your preference for notes and gestures right away, his keen tactical mind quickly adapting to your style. “Communication’s about understanding,” he said once. “Doesn’t matter how you do it, as long as it works.”

- Despite his hardened demeanor, Cable showed surprising softness when it came to you. He’d take your notes seriously, his cybernetic hand carefully holding the paper as he read. “Got it,” he’d say with a small nod, making you feel heard and respected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help. Cable’s steel-blue eyes softened as he read it, and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask,” he said simply. “I’ll always have your back.” His words, though straightforward, carried a depth of sincerity that stayed with you.

- Cable’s actions spoke louder than words. He’d leave you supplies he thought you might need or subtly adjust his schedule to be around when he thought you might struggle. His protective nature made you feel safe, even without verbal reassurances.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Cable read it, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a rare smile crossed his face. “Guess I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he said, pulling you into his arms. His kiss was firm yet gentle, a reflection of the man himself.

- Being with Cable was like having a steadfast anchor in a chaotic world. He didn’t need flowery words to show his care; his actions spoke volumes. “You’ve got your way of communicating,” he told you one day, his voice steady. “And I’ve got mine. Together, we make it work.”

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade was immediately fascinated by your unique communication style. “You’re like a mysterious, silent protagonist,” he quipped one day, leaning dramatically against a doorframe. “Do I get to be the comic relief in your story?” His lighthearted approach put you at ease, though his constant chatter sometimes overwhelmed you.

- He took your notes and gestures as a challenge, often exaggerating his responses to make you laugh. “Oh, I see what you mean!” he’d say, even when he clearly didn’t. His antics were equal parts endearing and infuriating, but his genuine effort to connect with you never wavered.

- One day, you passed Wade a note that read, Sometimes I feel like I’m too much. He stared at it for a moment, unusually quiet. Then he grinned and said, “Too much? Sweetheart, have you met me? You’re like the perfect yin to my yang!” His humor was disarming, but the sincerity in his eyes reassured you.

- Wade found creative ways to communicate with you, often using props, drawings, or even sock puppets to convey his thoughts. “See? Communication is an art form,” he said, holding up a poorly drawn cartoon of the two of you. His efforts were chaotic but heartfelt, showing you how much he cared.

- The shift in your relationship came during a quiet moment in his usually loud life. You handed him a note that read, I think I love you. Wade froze, uncharacteristically speechless. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he scooped you into his arms. “I knew it!” he shouted, spinning you around. His kiss was surprisingly tender, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

- Being with Wade was unpredictable but filled with joy. He made you feel understood in his own chaotic way, proving that love didn’t need to follow traditional rules. “You don’t need words,” he told you one day, his voice unusually soft. “I get you. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Cut my entire heart out to write this chapter. I love love how soft Joel is, and I hope this brings a little comfort to all the healing girlies 🩷 There’s a lot of triggers in this chapter, so pay attention to the tags. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I so loved writing it.

Chapter Summary: Who knew that facing one of your fears would be so hard? It’s just a shower, but a shower is so much more to you. And just when you think you can’t face it, Joel helps you one step at a time.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6k words

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused and SA, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, shower triggers, vulnerable reader, panic attack, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, angel)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

One month. You’ve been here one entire whole month and you still haven’t been able to get yourself to step into the shower. It’s only a shower. It can’t hurt you, but they can. The memories that drag knives through your skull, leaving you to bleed out on the cracked tile. 

   It’s only memories, only deep scars from your past, but they still haunt you night and day, swearing to come back and swallow you whole with their jagged, sharp teeth — just like a great white shark. 

   Nevermind that you’ve been washing your hair in the sink or scrubbing your body until your skin glows red with the washcloth. You can’t fucking do it, but you’re going to force yourself to try today. You have to. You have got to break this traumatic cycle. 

   You can do this. It’s a shower. Only a shower. 

   Making your way cautiously to the edge of the tub, you glimpse at the metal shower head, fixate on the way it curves and dips and glares back at you with vengeance in its wake. It’s like a monster’s staring right back at you, sneering its sharp teeth and whispering nightmares into your mind. 

   Come and get me, you want to say, but it’s already sunk its razor-sharp fangs into your skin. It’s already bled you dry.

   Swallowing your fears, you stand your ground and narrow your eyes into thin slits, flexing your fingers into tight fists as you look into the face of fear. 

   It can’t hurt you, can’t wrap its long cord around your neck like they tried. But yet, it still can…

   You still feel their icy breaths blowing down your neck, still feel their filthy hands trailing up your skin, still feel the scars they clawed down your back while they had you pinned against the tiled wall. You still feel them inside you, all around you, branding you as their own forever. 

   You’re still theirs. 

   You hear their cackling laughter ringing through your eardrums as you reach for the shower head, stretching your arm through the visions of Garrett and his buddies having their way with you in the bathroom. 

   “Get out,” you mewl, chattering your teeth as you grab a hold of the bottled lavender soap from the side of the porcelain tub. You can’t let them win.

   “Look at you. All scared and helpless, begging for someone to come save you,” Garrett snickers, fisting the back of your hair as another man tears your dress off. 

   “Stop. Please…” you beg, tears streaming down and clouding your vision. “I’m worth more than this. You don’t have to…”

   “What makes you think you’re so special, princess? Nobody’s looking for you. You’re ours until we sell you. And right now? Right now you’re mine.”

   Tears slip from your lash line, falling like raindrops as they hit the edge of the tub. You remember that night so clearly, remember it like it’s happening all over. 

   Your body starts to shake the further you reach for the shower head, making it your mission to push through. But the voices echo in your mind, vibrating down your spine until you actually see their muted faces and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the metal. 

   Push through. Fight. Forget them. They’re not real anymore. But they are still real, and they’re just repeating the cycle with other innocent women that were taken…

   Just as your fingers latch around the shower head, Garrett’s voice booms through your head, ricocheting off the pristine tiled walls. “You’re mine, little whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

   “Get out of my head. I’m not yours!” you scream, dropping the shower head as it bangs a loud clash against the shower walls, startling you like a gunshot just went off. The soap tumbles out of your palm, the bottle opening and spilling lavender liquid all over the bottom of the tub, making messes you can’t get yourself to clean up. 

   You drop to the floor and cover your head with your hands, begging the yelling voices to just stop. But they don’t. They come parading in like a steep hurricane and crash their waves down on you, knocking you off center so they can snake their way into your mind to scream even louder. 

   “Stop, stop,” you whisper as a fallen teardrop hits the edge of the bathtub. And then they just keep coming like scattered storm clouds.

   You can’t fucking do this. You’re not strong enough. You’re not brave. You’re not brave. 

   Footsteps on the floorboards make your fingers curl deeper into your messy hair. You squeeze your eyes shut as the door hits the back of the wall with a loud bang. And now you’re spiraling.

   Garrett. It’s Garrett coming for you. And this time, he wants blood.

   You have to run. You have to get out, you have to leave. 

   “Hey, sweetheart—”

   “No!” you scream out in blind fear, afraid your life is about to flash before your eyes. You start to swing your arm but when you look up, you drop it right back to your side with wide eyes. 

   “Hey, it’s jus’ me. It’s me,” he reassures gently.

   When you look through your tear-stained eyelashes, the world gets a little more quiet. A green flannel fitted against broad shoulders sits before you, his silver-threaded hair glowing from the fluorescent bathroom lights, and those eyes... Those big, brown, syrupy eyes.

   Joel. 

   “Joel…” you whimper out.

   He leans down right beside you and gets on your level, brown eyes locked directly on your teary ones. “S’right. It’s me.” His hand lands on the edge of the bathtub, thumb grazing against the smooth surface. Close enough to feel the heat off his tanned skin. 

   You’re breathless, tears still streaming down your cheek, but he looks like he wants to reach out and wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. 

   “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lathered all through his soft brown eyes.

   “I was just… I just…” You can’t finish your sentence without cringing at the shift of his shoulders.

   “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says encouragingly.

   He’s always so patient. 

   Taking a deep breath, you make yourself speak quietly. “I just wanted to get a shower. And I just can’t. I couldn’t do it. I can’t…” Tears muddle your vision, and then you’re right back into the pool you were in.

   “Breathe for me,” he coos softly, making your breathing a little easier. “There ya go,” he encourages. “Jus’ take it slow.”

   He takes a long look at the hanging shower head and the spilled lavender soap that runs down the edge of the tub, ending in a small puddle where your fear lies. It’s like he puts two and two together, like he understands exactly what happened. 

   “I made a mess with the soap, I…”

   He stops you right there. “Shh. S’okay,” he whispers. “Let me jus’ help you here, sweetheart.”

   Slowly reaching over, he turns the faucet to warm and lets fresh water run through the tub. He pours more lavender soap in, creating a pool of bubbles that cover the surface of the water. And then he puts the shower head back where it belongs, at a safe distance where it can’t touch you. And you just sit there, watching in silence as he tests out the temperature of the water next. 

   “You’re running a bath for me…”

   He stops for a moment and looks at you with big, warm eyes, looking at you as if you’re in need of saving. “Yeah, I am.”

   Gulping down a lump in your throat, you watch him get back to his task at hand. Stretching his long arms, he cuts the faucet off when the water hits just against the top of the tub. Enough for you to slip in and not spill any water out. 

   He tilts his head back to you and says, “You think you can get in by yourself?”

   Staring at the steam coming up from the warm water, you tremble inside. He drew you a bath when you didn’t have the strength to stand in a shower. He did that. He did it for you…

   Wiping your blurry eyes, you sniffle out. “I think so.”

   He gives you a small smile and then pushes himself up to his feet, nodding to the bath water as he turns the other way. “Go ahead then. I won’t look.”

   You sit there in shambles, still gawking as his broad back stands firm across the room. He’s not even peeking. He’s not trying to look at you. 

   “Sweetheart, s’alright. You can trust me.”

   You can trust me. There’s that word again. Trust. 

   Gradually, you start to pull your t-shirt over your head, cautiously dragging your leggings to the floor and hiding your purple lace underneath the fabric of your shirt. And then your bra unclasps with a snap, leaving you completely bare as you sit in a heap on the cold floor. 

   Turning your head back around, you see he’s still not looking, so you decide to slip under the warmth of the bath bubbles and sink until your body is covered from the breasts down. You pull your knees up to your chest, blanketing yourself with the large bubbles and your arms. 

   “You okay?” he asks.

   “Mhm,” you whimper out.

   “Is it alright if I turn around?”

   Freezing, your body is suddenly ice cold, despite the warmth surrounding your skin. Panic consumes you for a second, but then you remember it’s Joel. 

   He won’t hurt you.

   Balling yourself up even tighter, you make your decision. “Oh. Yeah, I umm. Okay,” you mumble out.

   The shift of his jeans and his boots tiptoeing across the floor makes your mind race, feelings of fight or flight invading your body as you work to steady your fast breath.

   You’re completely naked, stripped raw and bleeding all your insecurities and fears into the lavender soap that envelops the bath. There’s no layers covering you except the thin coating of bubbles and your curled up knees hiding what’s been taken time after time again from you. 

   You shrink yourself further into the tub, curving your back, praying your hair will cover the faded scars that slit you open night after night. You don’t want anyone to see them, can’t even stand to look at them yourself. They’re ugly reminders of what’s happened to you. Just heavy burdens weighing you down, telling you how invaluable and broken you really are. 

   Garrett used to love that… dragging glass through the top of your right shoulder, or just using his teeth to make blood run down your cracked skin. You still feel it. Every lash and bite and cut he gave you. He ruined you just like every other man that touched you in that house. Except he was the worst of them.

   You’re so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and it’s so raw. And you’re just showing all your bleeding shades of red to Joel. 

   When you hear him shift behind you and slightly feel his large presence near the bathtub, you freeze, and then your body starts to shake violently, like you just got dunked below an icy lake.

   “Hey, s’alright. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos as he kneels down against the side of the tub. “You’re tremblin’ like a leaf. Are you cold?”

   “N—no,” you whisper, shaking your head back and forth until you believe what you’re saying. It’s warm inside the bath water, but you’re still shuddering like you just got hit with a bucket of ice cold water.

   It’s quiet for a second before he asks, “Is it me? Do you want me to leave?”

   Briefly flicking your teary eyes up at him, you take a long look at his concerned face, embracing those warm brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

   Do you really want him to leave? If he does, that means you’ll be all alone with the roaring thoughts in your head. And you don’t want to be alone. Not really. You want him to stay because the truth is… he makes you feel not so alone. 

   He feels like fresh air.

   “No. I… I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked right on those deep brown pools.

   He gives you a tight-lipped nod and takes a good look at your face, like he can just slip inside your mind and feel everything you’ve ever felt in those last two years.

   “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Gonna stay right here. Right where you need me.” His words pull at your heartstrings, stopping the screaming voices in your mind. 

   He said he’ll stay. 

   You… need him. 

   Sitting there curled up in shambles, you don’t move. You just wade in the soapy bubbles and look up bashfully beneath your eyelashes, praying he’ll keep the flashbacks at bay. You don’t know when exactly you grabbed a washcloth, but your knuckles are white from how tight you’re holding on. Maybe it’s helping keep you sane right now.

   Don’t let the memories come flooding back. Keep me from sinking, Joel. 

   His thumb traces along the edge of the tub, while his other grabs the open bottle of lavender soap. And then he looks at you, hesitating before he speaks. He almost looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’ll scare you off or say the wrong thing. 

   He could never scare you, you think. No. Never. 

   “Can I?” He tilts his head toward your exposed back, his calloused fingers still skimming the surface while your heart beats sporadically from what he’s asking. 

   Swallowing the words that threaten to spit out, you push them back and nod cautiously, allowing him to take the purple washcloth from your shaking palm. He brushes his calloused skin against yours, and you jump at the contact.

   “Hey, s’okay. I’m gonna be real gentle, sweetheart. You just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.” His deep timbre stops the panic, and all you can do is hang your head lower and focus on the slow deep breathing technique Joel taught you last week.

   “Okay…” you whisper out in a hushed breath. 

   The first touch of the soapy washcloth feels like knives to your skin, carving you up slowly as your body is served to the slaughterhouse. It almost feels like Garrett behind you, cackling as he had his way with you all those times. And when he slides the washcloth down your spine again, you hear a quiet sob escape your lips. 

   You weren’t supposed to show him this side. One that’s so torn apart and abused and broken. You weren’t supposed to show him your scars…

   “Sweetheart, s’alright,” he coos, blowing his warm breath against the back of your head as he stops his slow strokes for just a moment. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you…” he repeats again slowly, quietly.

   Swiping a falling tear away with the back of your arm, you let him continue. He’s so gentle with every movement, taking care to watch your reactions, back off if something seems too much. He listens to your body language and respects you because he knows how scary this is for you. You don’t want anyone to touch you, but you think this is okay. Because the truth is, you couldn’t do this without him. 

   Slowly brushing your hair to the side, he washes along the back of your neck, gently going over the curve of your shoulders, down your spine, and stopping where your body is submerged. 

   “Tilt your head back for me, sweetheart,” he asks politely, reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo. You do as he says. 

   He fills a little bucket with water and slowly runs it through your hair, until it’s all drenched in warmth. Next, he laces his thick fingers through your hair, scrubbing your scalp to get all the knots and tangles and sweat out. You fight to hold in a low groan, reveling in how good it feels to have his fingers running through your locks in such a gentle way. 

   And he stays there, talking you through it, telling you it’s all okay. And he’s so gentle. Almost like a little lamb with those brown eyes that could soothe you into a deep lull, calm your flying thoughts until you’re just standing still. 

   No one’s ever done this, taken the time to care. You’ve never had someone to do that. He’s doing what no one else signed up to do. 

   But why… why would he do this? You’re nothing. At least that’s what they told you back at the house. That’s what Angela said while Garrett had you pinned to the dining room chair, breathing all down your ear, his teeth dragging until he left marks.

   You shiver in place, teeth chattering even though you’re in warm bath water. But right now you feel like you’re ten feet under a frozen lake, and you need Joel to pull you out.

   The visions of Garrett come rushing back, clouding your better judgement and making you fold over again in fear. 

   Get out. Get out of my head. 

   But you’re right back at that stagnant old house. You’re back in Garrett’s hands…

   Fuck. Why’d you have to remember that night…

   It’d be so easy to slip under the surface of the bubbles, embrace the black seas that would drag you under into oblivion. You could just sink into the warmth, watch the real world disappear along with all your memories. Melt into a peaceful bliss. You could just end it all, but you don’t want that. You want to live, to face your fears, to go on living. You want to be brave. You want… you want… 

   “Sweetheart? What is it?” he asks lightly as he watches a tear break the surface of the water. 

   “I… I just…” You trail off, staring at the shower head, trembling as you remember everything. 

   His eyes follow yours, and it’s like he sees right through your thin layers of red.

   You’re scared. You’re so fucking terrified. 

   Joel knocks you out of your dark mindset, his Southern drawl taking that fear away. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Umm. I…”

   “S’okay if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Jus’ tryin’ to understand what happened so I can help. I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

   You turn his words over and over in your mind, contemplating if you want to let him in. But honestly, talking to Joel does make you feel a little better. And keeping everything bottled up inside is eating you alive, so maybe talking about it will help. Joel will help. He always helps… 

   You take a deep breath and let it all out. “I just… I used to be so independent. I did everything for myself and now? Now I can barely do anything…”

   “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get back to that point one day. You’re gonna be okay.”

   “I don’t feel okay.”

   He stops the slow movements of his wrist, rests the washcloth against the middle of your back. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

   “He hurt me…”

   The room turns silent, not even the splash of water meets the white noise in the bathroom. That is, until you hear his knuckles flex.

   “What?” he asks in a husky breath.

   “He hurt me,” you repeat, your voice dropped an octave lower.

   “Who, sweetheart? Tell me who hurt you.” He’s attentive, all attention on you, his eyes dark chocolate when they lock with yours.

   “Garrett… The one that sold me. He… he…” Your voice quivers into silence, only the quiet sobs escaping your throat.

   “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coos. “He’s not here and he never will be again. He won’t touch you again. Ever. And I… Well, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe now.”

   You’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

   Your eyes drop back down to the bubbles, shining under the fluorescent lights, your hands skimming under the water against your hidden legs. “Back at the house, we weren’t really allowed to take showers alone. Well, not all the girls. One of them just happened to be me…”

   Pausing to flinch, you start again when he doesn’t interrupt. “No matter how much I fought back or screamed or tried to get away, they just held me down against the tile wall. And Garrett was the worst of them, even if he was the one trying to sell me. He was the one that used me the most. Said I was his favorite plaything,” you spit out, sinking your nails deep into your ankles to relieve some of the heartache.

   “Jesus Christ…” His voice drops an octave, and you feel his fingers flex against the washcloth, ringing it dry as he takes his frustration out on it. 

   “And the shower head,” you continue. “They… they umm, did things to me with it. Horrible, awful things.” You see his lips part, eyes widening in horror out of your peripheral vision. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “They should’ve just finished me off when they strangled me with it while they had my face pressed against the wall…” You choke on a sob, like you’re reliving that night over right now. You still feel it. The press of the coiled hose wrapped tightly around your neck, choking you as they had their way with your frayed body. 

   Joel sits back on his heels, looking at you like you’re made of glass. Like he’s afraid one wrong word will send you over the edge. “Sweetheart, I… Fuck. M’so sorry that you went through that. That I didn’t get you out sooner. I swear to God if I ever get my hands on Garrett or any of those men, I’m gonna make ‘em pay. They’ll wish they never laid a finger on you. I’m gonna fuckin—” 

   You stop him from going any further. You don’t need him to be the knight in shining armor right now. You just need someone to listen. “You’ve done enough, Joel. You don’t have to. What’s done is done. I’ll never be anything more than something to use to them, and they’ll never change.”

   Staring off into the waves of water, you try to let the bubbles wash your pain away, but another tear slips free, falling down the side of your cheek.

   “Hey, look at me for a second,” he asks softly. You turn to face him all teary eyed, and he catches the tear from falling. His knuckles brush tenderly against your skin for just a second, and then his warmth is gone the second he pulls away. He doesn’t let it linger, but you almost wish he would. His touch is so feather-like. So soft and gentle and warm.  

   He takes a good look at your somber face and sighs, his fingers knocking against the side of the tub. “You never deserved any of that abuse. And I’m sick to death that it happened to you. But you can’t jus’… You gotta keep goin’, sweetheart. You gotta keep livin’. You have so much to give. You’re so full of life and bright and the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and you—”

   “Brave?”

   “S’right, sweetheart. Jus’ like I said the other day in the parking lot. You’re so very brave. And you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you jus’ waitin’.” He stares at the washcloth for a second, but then he’s looking back up at you. “It’s gonna be hard. God, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ hard for a while, but you’re gonna make it. With a little help, you’re gonna soar.” 

   You feel water burn the backs of your eyes, feel like you’re going to implode right now in this bathtub. But you push the fears away and look back up into the soft brown eyes of a man who cares what happens to you. 

   “It’s not gonna be easy, but you’re gonna get through it. You’re gonna have bad days where you feel like you can’t do anything, but those are the days you gotta jus’ take it one step at a time, like today. And those are the kinda days where it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here to help, whatever I can with. I jus’ want you to be okay, sweetheart. That’s all I want. For you to live.”

   Your heart clenches in your chest as you gaze into those soft brown eyes. And you just stare with your arms wrapped around your legs, almost want to reach out and graze your fingers through his sandy brown locks. He does something to you. Makes you feel like you’re worth saving. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like a human being. 

   He had every chance to take advantage of you in here. He could’ve done anything, but he chose to protect you and take care of you instead. 

   He took care of you. 

   So you continue to stare into those glossy brown eyes, memorizing every speck of gold in his flecked irises. He kinda reminds you of sunshine, warm rays of yellow and orange peeking over the horizon. 

   He reminds you of safety. He’s safe.  

   You shift in the bubbles that cover you, watch as the water breaks against your knees, and then your eyes are back on him just like you’re mesmerized. “How is it that every single particle of me doesn’t want to trust another man ever again, but I trust you?”

   A smile crosses his lips. “You trust me?”

   “Mhm.”

   He takes a good look at you and smiles wider, making his dimple sink into his left cheek. It tugs a little at your heartstrings. “Well then, thank you for trustin’ me.”

   You nod and peek up through your eyelashes, waiting a few seconds before you confess something. “You make me feel safe…”

   His brown eyes delve deep into yours, and his smile still hasn’t faded. “That’s ’cause you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always. I would rather kill a thousand men than ever lay a harmful finger on you. You’re too special for that, sweet girl. You deserve good things. You deserve the world.”

   His voice sounds like velvet. Smooth, delicate, soft. And even though you’re laid out like bare bones and crumbled dust, he seems to cover all your vulnerabilities and put all your broken pieces back together like glue.

   Somehow, he can knock the breath out of you but also give you an overabundance of oxygen at the same time. He’s good at that. Bringing you life when you feel like you’re getting buried alive. He gives life. Gives you life. And you feel so alive around him.

   You could drown in this bathtub, disappear under the thick sheen of bubbles until the world goes silent, but he wouldn’t let you go so easily. So maybe you’ll just drown in him instead. 

   Silence resonates over the bathroom. Only the longing stares and unspoken words fill the empty void. And it’s so obvious now why every time you stare into those soft brown eyes you fall a little more. 

   That’s it. You’re falling for him. Slowly, cautiously, silently. And maybe one day he’ll catch you, too. Maybe you’ll just fall into his arms one day when you’re a bit braver. Maybe he’ll take the sting out of your bleeding wounds. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you’ve needed all along. 

   But today, you’re not that brave. So you’ll just keep it bottled up like you do most things. For now, you’ll just let the slow burn simmer until it’s an uncontrollable wildfire that bursts into fiery flames. 

   Another few minutes pass by and just as the bath water starts to get cold, Joel asks, “You ‘bout ready to get out, sweetheart?”

   “Yeah. It’s getting a little cold now.”

   “Alright. Well, here’s a clean towel. Gonna put it right here for you.” He sets a fluffy white towel next to the side of the tub and nods his head toward the sink. “And I put your pajamas on the counter for you.”

   “Thank you,” you reply quietly, fascinated by the lengths he goes to make sure you’re taken care of.

   “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his words softening like his gentle brown eyes.

   “I think so,” you nod as a bubble pops around you. 

   “Alright, sweetheart.” He pushes off the floor with a grunt and heads toward the closed door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll let you get dried off and changed. I’m jus’ gonna…”

   “Joel?” You stop him before he leaves the room.

   “Yeah?” He turns his head, slicking a hand back through his dark locks.

   “Thank you… for being here for me.”

   A gentle smile meets his lips and a soft chuckle comes out. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

   Angel. He called you angel. 

   With one more glance, he’s exiting the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. You sink into the tub, letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

   Joel did it. He helped you take a small step forward, helped you face one of your fears. And he didn’t push you, didn’t even nudge you toward the shower head. Instead, he drew you a bath and helped you get through it in one piece. You don’t think you can ever say enough words to thank him for what he did tonight. But deep down, he knows. 

   After drying off and throwing on your pink pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, you run the towel through your wet strands and rake the brush through your locks, already exhausted from the exertion of your shower meltdown. But then relief hits you that you took one step. 

   The first step is always the hardest, and Joel was right there, holding your hand the entire way. He was the reason you made it into the bathtub. And with him, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. Although, it was still terrifying, but you did it. 

   One step forward, no more back. 

   When you’re slipping under the sheets and about to turn off the bedside lamp, a slight knock sounds across the room, and your head snaps to the closed door, pulling your hand back from the lit lamp. 

   “Come in,” you echo across the big room. 

   The doorknob turns and in comes Joel, hesitantly hovering by the threshold of the open door, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You all settled?”

   “All settled,” you reply, shifting just a smidge beneath the warm comforter.

   “That’s good.” He leans against the doorway, his broad muscles pulling against the flannel fabric, eyes as warm as the first night you saw them. 

   You fidget your fingers around a thin piece of string, flicking your eyes nervously up at the man that stands in the glow of the dim hall lights. A man that helped you face one of your fears. And suddenly, you can’t think of what to say, so you just silently stare up at him until he speaks. 

   “Jus’ wanted to see if you got to bed alright.” He hovers there, big hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heel of his leather boots. 

   “Oh, right. Yeah, guess I made it alright.”

   He nods, giving you another soft smile in return. “You need anything? Water, tea?” 

   Shaking your head, you smile. “No. I think I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

   “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another pause and then he’s slowly turning away from you. “Well, uhh. I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart. S’been a long day—”

   “Wait,” you stop him and watch him turn back toward you, his eyebrows threaded together, an eager stare masking his face. 

   “Yeah?” he asks, anticipation hanging in the air. 

   This is it. You gulp down a breath, blow one out, and let another fall from your lips. “Joel, I just wanted to say thank you. For… for helping me take that first step of facing something that’s been eating me alive.”

   He nods, the pad of his thumb brushing over his denim jeans. “You were brave doin’ that, you know? After what you’ve been through… That took a lot of guts.”

   “Yeah…” you whisper out, nails digging deep into the blanket over your thighs, but then you flick your eyes up to him. “Not just for that either but also for listening to me. You didn’t have to…”

   “I did have to, though. That’s what you needed. Someone to listen.”

   Your eyes widen, throat tightens up, and you feel the prick of a tear meet your lash line. He wants to listen to you. He didn’t shut you out when you needed to get a little weight off your shoulders.

   Brushing away the tear before it can fall, you give him a look that says how desperate you are to be free from these nightmares that plague your mind. “Maybe if I just… talk about it then maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”

   His face drops, and his big, sad eyes look like a lost puppy who just watched its owner drive off without them. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m always here. I’ll always listen. You jus’ let me know when, and I’ll be right by your side. And Tess will listen. Ya know, when you’re ready, that is. But I’ll be your outlet when you need one.”

   You tug on a little smile, giving everything you have to show him how grateful you are he’s here. If it wasn’t for him, you might’ve been lost to the shadows already. But there he is, trying to pull you into the sunlight. 

   Sunlight. He’s sunlight. 

   “You always seem to know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you say reassuringly, eyes glossy as you look up into pools of warmth. 

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a crooked smile. “I try, sweetheart.”

   There’s a pause in the room, a silence that’s fallen like snow. You’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak so instead, you lift the blanket higher under your chin and slip down further in the bed, letting a yawn leave your lips. 

   Joel shifts by the door and places a large hand on the handle, about to make his exit. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart.”

   “Yeah, good idea,” you yawn again, now realizing how tired you actually are. 

   But before he steps out, he turns back and looks at you with those sappy brown eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head. “Oh, before I forget…” He pauses to take a breath. “They might’ve tried to drain you, deplete you of everything inside you, but they didn’t steal it all. You’ve still got your shine, your soul, your heart. And they can’t ever take that from you. You’ve got so much potential in you, and I see it all. You’re gonna glow. I already see that flame in you. S’burnin’ brighter than a wildfire.”

   Eyes as wide as can be, you swallow back a choke and feel your eyes swimming. Did he really just say that?

   Brighter than a wildfire. 

   You open your mouth but nothing comes out. It’s like you’re stunned in place, frozen under a bright spotlight with nowhere to run. Nowhere except maybe to Joel because he’s at the end of the bright light just waiting for you. 

   He’s waiting. 

   “Thanks for seeing that I was worth saving…” you whisper out, still enamored by his kind words, his doe eyes, his beautiful heart. 

   “You’re welcome, angel,” he smiles, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.”

   “Good night…”

   And then he’s shutting the door softly, leaving you still mesmerized and bewitched by all the events that unraveled this evening. But most of all, you can’t forget every single word he said to you. 

   He sees potential in you, sees it all. He thinks you were worth saving. Thinks you’re gonna glow and shine and thrive. 

   As you rest your head on the fluffy pillow and close your eyes, all you see is Joel. Joel Joel Joel. And he’s the last thing you see before you slip off into a deep sleep. Except he’s still there in your dreams, shining like gold under the sunlight. 

   He’s sunlight. 

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[endereies]

BURNT SKIN - CS

No Nut November - Day 27

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ You spend ages hiding your intimacy issues from Chris but he gets you to open up

“I don’t need your pity, Chris.” You’d pushed him back moments earlier, the sudden flip of emotions making him confused.

“Is that what you think this is? Why do you push me away every single time like this!” nothing but silence left you, your chest rising and falling erratically while the grip on your wrist tightened. You were so close this time.

“Well? Why is it that any time I think I’ve finally gotten close to you, to loving you, I get pushed back. Why do you give me this- this false hope that me and you are good.” He didn’t seem angry or disappointed, just… frustrated. You understood why, he’d been patient for months so of course he was wearing thin.

“Do you trust me…?” desperation filled you, desperation to get him to understand you. Just anything to coat the air, blunt the sharpness of the hurt in your heart.

“Of course, I –“

“Then why do you act like my touch burns through your skin!” you couldn’t crack your fingers anymore, the breaths being deeper but there was no air. All of your fingers mangled around each other, scratching the sides of your skin where you’d neglected their length. He couldn’t understand like you did.

You were gripping the same skin he touched, soothing it from the unfamiliarity. It wasn’t your own body touching yourself, the unknown territory was eating you up. For months you noticed the lingering touches Chris would give you, a nudge on your arm at a funny joke or a palm on the small of your back as he passed through. It all felt the same. Easily ignorable and bearable. When it was just you two alone you were suddenly conscious of everything you did. Breathing became irregular and you suddenly didn’t have enough saliva to swallow.

He didn’t know why and neither did you at first. Over time it all started to click together a little more. Things on your body were pointed out to yourself. Your stomach, your jawline, your thighs. Your imperfections. If Chris saw them, what would he think of you. Would he be as disgusted as you are in yourself.

“You’d hate it.” Your words were shallow and mumbled under tight lips. Your eyes twitched, the line of tears shaking where you stood. “I don’t have the body of a lover. It’s not something I love.”

“What…?”

“You’d hate it.” A pause stood between you; a choked sob barely held back. “I- I hate the way I look; the way my body isn’t the way I want it. I’ve tried so much shit and I feel shitty. So, I don’t let people near me, because my biggest fear- is that one day, you’ll see me the way I see myself.”

“Is that… why you’ve pushed me away, because you’re scared, I’ll just leave. Have I ever given you a reason to feel like that?” You ponder for a moment, staring into his eyes for honesty.

“I tell you that you are beautiful whenever I get the chance because its true. I honestly admire your beauty so much. I see you cooking and I just lean against the frame watching you because it reminds me so much of those stupid films you watch. I watch you communicate with strangers, especially that barista at the café all because you liked her glasses. I’m telling people about your little habits because they are adorable to me. Your beauty isn’t in your body, its in you. And i love you.”

Tears silently fell as he talked, his legs bringing him closer once again. His hand so desperately wanted to reach out, hold and comfort you. If you’d let it happen.

You didn’t care in that moment, but maybe you would tomorrow. Right now? Pulling him into your arms felt right.

Progress was progress.

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