#it fucking hurts me to write all of this down

[covenofagatha]

Hii can you please write athlete-student fem reader x Professor Agatha, where she is her favorite student and they have a close connection despite Agatha's cold demeanor. So one day y/n comes limping to Agatha's class bcuz she got injured during the practice and her coach kept pushing her, without letting to rest, so the injury got worse and now y/n can barely step on her leg. Agatha takes notice of that and asks y/n to stay after the lecture, where Agatha discovers the truth about abusive coach. So Agatha helps Y/N to her car and takes her home, where Agatha takes care of her and they finally kiss or maybe even smut if you are good with it please. Kinda like hurt/comfort with possesive Agatha

Thank you for all your amazing writing💜

As a former swimmer with a coach that was fired for emotional/verbal abuse I fucking loved this request so thank you and I hope you like!

Swimming into her arms

You hurt your leg during practice and your coach makes it worse, so Professor Agatha has to take care of you

Word count: 3400

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight possessiveness, oral sex, soft

“Coach, can I talk with you for a second before we get in?” You ask, stepping gingerly over to him. He barely even glances at you, just waves his hand to tell you to get on with it. “I just hurt my knee during weights and the trainer said that I shouldn’t kick that much until I can go see a doctor.” 

Now he looks at you, displeasure written all over his face. Your swim coach is not known for being nice and you inwardly wince to brace yourself. “What did you do?” 

“We were doing band jumps from the pullup bars and I landed weirdly and there was a pop from my knee. It hurts to walk and I’m really not sure I should swim.” 

He scoffs and straightens up against the fence where he was leaning. You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you were standing in more than just your swimsuit. You should’ve worn clothes to come talk to him, but deep down you knew how this was going to go. 

“We have a meet this weekend and you’re our best backstroker somehow, despite your awful underwater kicks. You’re swimming.” 

The dig about your underwaters doesn’t even phase you now, having heard it enough times already. But the thought of bending your knee like that makes you brave enough to protest. “Can I just pull for today? I’ll try to get to the doctor this afternoon.” 

You feel your stomach sink as he rolls his eyes. “I don’t need damaged goods on this team so if you’re not going to get in the pool and you’re going to be weak, then just get off the deck and come back next week. Don’t expect to be put in any more meets though.” 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your jaw from dropping. You nod and turn around to hide the tears stinging in your eyes and put your cap on. You’re on a scholarship at the university for swimming, so if you quit or he lets you go, you’ll most likely have to drop out.

“That’s what I thought,” you hear your coach huff quietly behind you. “Let’s go. You’re five minutes late getting in.”

The moment you jump into the pool and push off the wall for warm up, you know you’ve made a mistake. Your leg is screaming. Every kick is pure agony and you try your absolute best to not move it more than you have to. But each flip turn makes you want to cry. You barely make it through the warm up and your heart drops when you see the main set that your coach wrote on the board. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he changed it up and made it harder just to mess with you.

Your lanemate asks if you want to go first and all you can do is shake your head. If you speak, you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart. You refuse to take your goggles off because your eyes are red and teary. 

One round in, your coach stops you on the wall. “Are you even trying?” He demands. 

“My knee,” is all you can get out before your voice wavers. 

He squats down so he’s closer to you. “I’m 55 years old. My knees hurt every day and you don’t see me whining about it. Now either do the set right, or you’re off the relay.” 

This time, when you push off the wall, you kick with both legs. By the end of the 25, you’re already sobbing into the water, choking on gasps when you turn your head to breathe. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your life and you are convinced that something is really wrong. 

At one point, you think you almost black out. 

You fall behind in the set because you physically can’t kick fast enough to make the interval so your coach makes you stay behind late to finish it, despite you telling him that you have to get to class. 

When he finally lets you out of the pool, there’s twenty minutes until your class starts and you still have to shower, get dressed, and somehow walk across campus. 

Some of your professors would be chill if you walked in late. Hell, most of them were happy if 75% of the class actually showed up. 

But not Professor Agatha Harkness. She was feared by everyone on campus, even those who weren’t in her class, for her stony cold demeanor. There were rumors that she made students cry just by looking at them. 

Although, she wasn’t like that with you. While she was still tough, there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at you, a certain fondness in her smile. You weren’t sure what it was about you that made her like that, but you and Agatha had grown quite close over the past semester. You would go bother her during her office hours and she would patiently answer all your questions and help you with her assignments. You knew you could talk to her about anything, and you often did. Friend drama, other classes, swimming, you name it. The way she made you feel heard and seen, plus with how hot she was, had you falling for her. 

The only thing you hadn’t really opened up on was how mean your coach could be. 

But just because of your relationship with her didn’t mean she would allow you to be late to her class. 

For now though, your task was to get out of the pool without screaming. Your coach would throw a fit if you didn’t “get out like an athlete” by putting your knee in the gutter instead of your foot, but you weren’t sure you could do either. You maneuver yourself up using the handles on the starting blocks so you’re sitting and then push yourself up. You try to put weight on your hurt leg and you gasp loudly. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Your coach walks over to you and you think that he might offer some sort of help or an apology or anything, but all he says is, “See you tomorrow.” 

Your head falls back in frustration and you experiment with some different movements to see which is the best for your knee. You can slide it a little on the wet ground for now to get to the locker room, but when you go outside with shoes on, you’re going to have to figure out something new. 

You shower in record time while still getting all your tears out and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting moisturizer on your face while your hair is twisted up in your towel. The warm water did a little to help your leg so you’re able to put the tiniest bit of weight on it now. However, it doesn’t hide the evidence that you were clearly crying. 

Still, your class starts in five minutes. The building her lecture is in is four minutes away with a good leg. 

Hobbling while whimpering every step takes eight. 

You try to open the door as quietly as possible, and you succeed, but your bag swings and clangs onto the metal trash can that is right in the doorway. Because of course it is. 

Silence falls through the room as the sound echoes, and Agatha looks up from her place at the front of the room. You offer a shaky smile and limp down the aisle to your spot in the second row. Going down the slanted floor is a new type of pain that has you grabbing onto chairs. 

“Stay after class so I can hear your excuse about why you’re late,” Agatha says coldly once you’ve sat in your usual seat, sighing when the burn in your knee dies down to a dull ache. Your heart squeezes but you do see some concern in her eyes. You realize that her tough exterior just now was an act. You nod, not able to look at her for fear that she’ll see right through you, and you dig in your backpack for paper and a pen for notes. 

The hour lecture goes so slowly, your knee now starting to throb from sitting. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do to get it to stop hurting. 

Finally, Agatha releases everyone but you stay seated. While you’re in pain sitting, you know it’s much worse if you stand up. She doesn’t seem to mind, just comes to stand on the other side of her podium and lean against it. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before and you just start hysterically crying. She looks more taken-aback than you’ve ever seen her and walks over to crouch next to you and rub a hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “Sweetheart?” 

Your breath catches at the pet name and you hiccup. You swipe furiously at your eyes, embarrassed to show this much emotion in front of the older woman. When you open your mouth to start talking though, you can’t stop. “I hurt my leg in weights and I tried to tell my coach that the trainer said I shouldn’t swim and that it hurts but he made me get in anyways because we have a meet coming up and told me I wasn’t doing good enough and I had to stay late to finish the set and my knee hurts so fucking much I can barely walk.” You don’t even have it in you to apologize for the swearing and Agatha doesn’t care either. 

She cups your tear-stained cheek, thumbing at it, and you meet her eyes with your watery ones. You’re a little surprised to see pure anger in them.

“That is not okay,” she says seriously. “He should be fired for doing that. He deliberately put you in a situation where you’re only going to be more injured and now look at you. This is unbelievable. I’m going to talk to the athletic director, someone needs to know about this.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Professor, you really don’t have to, it’s not–” 

“It is a big deal,” she cuts you off firmly. “There need to be consequences. He fucking hurt you and he’s going to pay!” Your heart skips a beat at how protective she’s being and she seems to realize what she said because she immediately changes gears. “Do you need help?” 

It’s the first time anyone has asked you that all day. Even the trainer or your weight’s coach didn’t offer. It almost makes you start crying again. 

“Yes, please,” you say and she holds out your hands, pulling you up out of the chair. You put your hurt leg on the floor and buckle into Agatha’s arms. “M’ so sorry, oh my god,” you stammer as she’s practically holding you now. 

She uses her strength to get you standing straight again, and without saying anything, slings your backpack over her shoulder and puts her other arm under yours so she can act as a crutch for you. 

“I’m sorry about your coach,” she finally says as she’s working on steering you out of the building. 

You wince going down the steps and shrug. “He’s not a bad coach. Like his sets are good and stuff and I’ve gotten faster for him. Just not a great…person. Where are we going?” You’ve finally realized that she’s not helping you back to the dorms. 

“My car,” she says matter-of-factly. Your heart skips a beat and you crane your head to look up at her. She has a variety of emotions struggling on her face and you’ve never felt so taken care of. 

“Why did you park so far away?” You groan and she chuckles. It feels like you’ve been limping for a mile. Luckily, there’s not too many other people outside right now to see Agatha helping you like this, but you do find it oddly touching that she would risk her heartless reputation for you. 

At last, you get to the lot where the professors park and she basically drops you into the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side once she puts your bag in the back. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say quietly once she’s reversing out of her spot. She pauses for a second to look at you, a new expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Once again, she goes in an unfamiliar direction. Maybe she’s taking you to a doctor? 

Nope. 

You’re still confused, even when Agatha turns into a quaint suburban neighborhood, but you think you figure it out when she stops in front of a house. 

You turn to gape at your professor. “Is this yours?” She gives you a look that says obviously and then gets out of the car quickly so she can come get you out. She doesn’t grab your bag from the back but you don’t need it. She helps you hobble inside and brings you over to the couch so you can lay down on it. You swing the bad leg up and then the good one and she hands you a pillow to put under the hurting knee. 

The elevation helps a little and while Agatha walks out of the living room, your eyes close, head resting on the back of the couch. It feels like you have been drained of all your energy from weights, practice, and then your knee. 

You think you might doze off just a bit because you startle when you hear Agatha entering. She’s carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a plate with a sandwich and raspberries in the other. You scooch into an upright position and graciously accept the food, instantly taking a huge bite. You moan at the taste and then notice that Agatha is standing next to you, bag of ice in hand, looking at your sweatpant-clad legs. 

Her eyes dart to yours and then back down. “Do you think you can take these off?” She asks, tapping your leg and your cheeks turn almost as red as hers. 

“Um, oh, sure,” you answer, mouth full of food. You set the plate down on the coffee table and raise your hips so you can get your pants off. You refuse to look at her as you basically undress in front of her. 

And then you begin to struggle. You can bend one leg just fine, but you don’t even want to risk moving your right knee in the slightest. The problem is, you’re nowhere near flexible enough to take your pants off while keeping one leg straight. 

Thankfully, Agatha completely understands without you having to ask, saving you from that embarrassment. She reaches across your body and gently slides the sweatpants off your bad leg. And then your entire bottom half is naked except for your underwear. 

You know why you’re blushing, but why is Agatha? 

She clears her throat and arranges the bag of ice on your knee, but it won’t stay because your leg is slanted up on the pillow. 

“Um, can you…” she trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to word it. You also understand what she needs, so you move your left leg so it hangs off the couch and she can sit in-between your legs and hold the ice to your knee. 

“Are you okay?” You ask after the two of you have been sitting in silence for a little bit. It’s comfortable, but you can still see the outline of grimace on Agatha’s face. 

She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just hard,” she admits. “Seeing you in pain like this.” 

“Why?” You dare to ask, the question barely louder than a whisper. She looks at you and then back to the ice. 

“I care about you a lot,” she says, like it pains her. It feels like all the air has left your lungs. 

“I care about you, too,” you reply, hoping more than anything that she means it the same way as you. 

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“A kiss?” It’s meant to be a joke, like when your mom would kiss a paper cut or a scrap just to make it feel better. And then you inwardly kick yourself because you know you did not just ask stone-cold Agatha Harkness to kiss your knee. 

But she smirks and then you realize that you never specified which part of your body you wanted her to kiss. 

She leans in, hand grabbing onto the arm of the sofa next to you to hold herself up and she brushes her lips against yours. It’s barely anything, easily written off, but when she pulls back, her eyes are dilated. 

“Did that make your knee feel better?” She asks playfully. 

You pretend to think about it for a second and then you tilt your head. “You know what? It did. Better do it again so it helps even more.” 

This time, her tongue parts your lips and licks into your mouth. Her other hand slides under your shirt to feel your stomach and heat starts to course through you. You moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her so pull her even closer. She shifts and accidentally bumps your knee and you hiss in pain. 

“Fuck, sorry!” She exclaims, jerking back like she was burned. 

“No, you’re okay,” you groan. “I just don’t know if this is the best way to do this.” You pout because you want to keep kissing her, you need to feel her. 

A sly smile spreads onto her face. “I know something else that might help.” You raise your eyebrows in question and inhale sharply as she carefully moves down your body so her head is right by your underwear. She toys with the waistband, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod more eagerly than you ever have in your life. “If it hurts your knee, let me know.” 

“Okay,” you breathe and you shiver when she pulls your wet underwear to the side and the cold air hits your pussy. 

And then she lazily licks through your folds, swirling her tongue on your clit and your back arches off the couch. 

“Fuck,” you moan, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing the side of the couch. She continues softly lapping at you, fingers digging into your hips to keep them still so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by moving. Agatha takes her time tasting you, making a noise every and then that makes your head fall back. 

Your pleasure slowly builds from her hot, careful mouth on you, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She alternates dipping her tongue into your pussy and then sucking your clit and back again. She gets more enthusiastic about it once she feels confident that she’s not hurting you and begins to be a little rougher. 

“I’m getting close, Agatha,” you whimper and it’s the first time you’ve ever called her by her first name. She must realize it too because she groans into your pussy and sucks hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Sounds fall out of your mouth as you cum, hips trying but failing to buck against her tight grip to ride it out. 

“Is your knee okay?” is the first thing she asks when she stops licking at you. You laugh at the timing of the question. 

“Yes, it feels totally fine.” 

Agatha leans down to peck your lips. “Okay, good. Still, I’m going to make an appointment at my doctor this afternoon. I’ll take you.” 

Even though she just ate you out, this is the sexiest you’ve ever seen her. So caring, so protective. Your heart yearns for more of this woman. 

“You don’t have to do all that,” you protest though, not wanting to ask for more than she’s already given you. She waves her hand to shush you. 

“Nonsense. I’m going to take care of you because apparently no one else can. And I want to.”

You smile fondly at her and tug at hair to bring her in for a deeper kiss this time. “I want you to as well.” 

And she does.

[robo-writing]

Okay, now I need a fic based on the session the reader and Logan has when he was slapped. Like the thought of her passing out and he still continued to fuck her? And her coming too and he’s just pumping her full of his come? Lord have mercy 😩🤤

me getting this anon while i was knee-deep in writing angst is something so funny to me, crying my eyes out then opening my inbox to see this gave me mental whiplash like you can’t believe He barely sounds human, more man than beast. The weight of him pins you into the bed, unable to move. The creaking of the bed, your weak cries, his downright animalistic grunts of pleasure as he thrusts into your tired, achy cunt—you two sound like a cheap porno, and not in a good way.

You have no one else to blame for the six foot wall of muscle that pins you to the bed, holds your hands behind your back and fucks you like he’s got something to prove. His hips meet your backside again, and again, and again—each thrust leaving your ass raw.

You don’t know how long it’s been since he’s put you on your stomach, and you don’t care to know; all you want is for him to keep going. Hell, you’re not sure Logan would stop even if you begged him.

Reduced to his animal instincts, if he’s not panting in your ear like a bitch in heat he’s mumbling the filthiest fucking words into your skin, tongue lapping at the salt that clings to it.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he groans, each word emphasized by the sound of skin slapping on skin. “My girl, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

It genuinely hurts to breathe, but all you scratching at his arms does is spur him even further. Eventually you give up, lie back like a good little whore and let him fuck you until either you pass out or he runs out of energy.

Unsurprisingly, option A seems to happen first.

A few spots in your vision, a ringing in your ears, then nothing. An unknown time passes, and you wake up in the same spot as before, spread open and speared on Logan’s magnificent dick.

At least from what you can gather he’s a bit more put together now, still pumping himself inside your warm walls, but much less violent than he was before. You feel the familiar thrum of orgasm on the horizon, an odd sort of pleasure-pain that keeps you aware long enough to listen to your boyfriend speak.

“‘M sorry baby, fuck, just couldn’t stop,” he says, kissing up and down your spine in apology, still chasing after his own high with each word. “Feel too good, so, so good, goddamn—“

He’s stuttering, cutting himself off, unable to string together a full sentence. You chance a glance at him and fuck, he’s a goddamn mess. Sweat dripping from his brow, muscles flexing so hard you could count each vein, a rosey blush running from his face to his chest—he looks like he’s just came from hell and back. Damn near incoherent, whispering sweet nothings into your shoulder—

“Lemme come in you baby, just one more time, one more fuckin’ time—“

It’s a rhetorical question at this point; like you ever had a choice with the way his cum drips from your cunt. So full of him that each thrust pulls more out of you, only to be replaced. He’s had to have cum inside of you multiple times, the sloppy sound of it mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

And yet, he keeps on going.

An urge to control, to keep, a need to stuff his cock inside of you and have you know exactly who it is that has your pussy creaming for him.

[onlinedolly]

i'd love to hear ur jjk incest thoughts n hcs ... anything 🤲🏻

JJK INCEST RAMBLES

cw: incest (obv), mean getou, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, p in mouth, cock warming, blow jobs, lots of mentions of cum

an: i write dead dove/dark content please read my tags carefully and if these things make you uncomfortable please don’t read! as always MDNI!

GETO SUGURU:

he’s such a mean big brother, pressing against your tummy as his cock settles inside of you and you’re crying big crocodile tears.

“can you feel me, baby sis? all the way—“ he presses down on your tummy more, the pressure causing you to stir underneath him, “up here.” he laughs meanly, wiping away the tears that spill from your eyes roughly, with his free hand.

he pulls out a bit before ramming himself back into you harshly, sending a snot filled sob through your body. geto was a mean brother and meaner fuck, all confident in his movements as he rams into you at a rough pace.

your head hits the headboard repeatedly ad you whine out, “it hurts suguru please go slower!” to which he just laughs and picks the pace up, roughly grabbing your tit in his big warm hands.

you’re an overwhelmed mess when you cum, all tears and whimpers, as your body shakes and your cunt pulsates against his cock. he pulls out shortly after, stroking himself as he cums all over your stomach.

“can’t have my sweet sister pregnant can, we?” he snickers to himself.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

you’d always been a shining jewel in your fathers life, a chance for him to start over after fucking up so badly the first go around. you were pretty and sweet and you loved your father so much, especially when you sat on his lap, his cock nestled inside you.

toji watched some show you couldn’t concentrate on as you cock warmed him. you shook like a pretty thing, your head nuzzled into his neck as you whimpered on and on about how much you needed him.

“good things come to those who—“ he readjusts his hips, causing you to take your father at a new angle that made you whine out, “wait.”

toji prides himself on training you into this, a pretty little cock whore for her own father. he didn’t think anyone else deserved you and who better to feel your tight cunt then the man who helped make you? he wraps his arms tight around you as he moves again, pushing himself deeper into you making you sob out.

“papa please,” you cry, placing soft kisses against the hollow of his neck. ‘you had been a good girl’ he thought, waiting so patiently for him to finish up his show. so in reward he grabs your hips in large, rough hands and picks you up before slamming you back down against his cock.

you cry out then, wrapping your arms around his neck as pretty little tears welled up in your eyes. you were already sensitive from sitting on his cock for what felt like ever and you didn’t know if you could take the ruthless pace he was bouncing you against him.

toji grunts loudly as he picks you up and drops you down against his large girth at a fast, dizzying pace. “that’s it, baby. feels good, don’t it?” he slurs out as he jerks his hips up to meet the pace he’s moving your body in.

“papa ‘s too much,” you sob out, your cunt drooling around his cock.

“too much? baby i’ve given you a lot worse,” he scolds, leaning down to pop a nipple in his mouth, biting down harshly.

when toji cums he stills the movement completely, holding your hips against his lap as he shoots his load inside of you. the minute you feel his cum spurt inside your tight cunt you cry out, chasing your own orgasm as you milk him greedily.

“gunna give me another fushiguro baby? betcha you’d look so cute swollen with a kid f’me.”

GOJO SATORU:

gojo’d been jealous when he found out your father was fucking you, a pretty little thing like you and he doesn’t think to share with his favorite brother?

he’d noticed you plenty of times, in small skirts and bows in your hair and he had to admit you’d formed into such a beautiful young lady. and so well trained too. it didn’t take much convincing to get you on your knees in front of him, his cock in your hands before he could even blink.

your father did a wonderful job in turning you into a pretty little cock whore, he’d have to thank him, he thought as you leaned in a licked a stripe underneath the base of his cock from balls to tip. she shuddered and you began kitten licking the precum off his tip, running his fingers through your hair and pulling.

“don’t tease girl,” he spoke sweetly, almost condescendingly, at his pretty little niece. and you just nod all kind and open your mouth before sucking him down in one go, you look up at him with doe eyes filled with tears as your nose tickles against his pelvic bone.

you hollow your cheeks once you take him all in and it causes satoru to groan loudly as he pulls rough against your hair once more. that’s when you begin a steady pace of sucking him off, up and down, your tongue lapping around his cock.

“god, your old mans been holding out on me, hm?” he moans out, thrusting his hips once, causing you to gag. he leans against the kitchen counter as you take him down your throat. he’s going to cum soon, he thinks, as he begins rolling his hips against your face.

his hips stutter as he cums, all of his muscles tensing as he rolls his head back and groans loudly. and just like a good little thing, you push yourself further down the length of his cock, swallowing anything he gives you.

he’s going to have to have a long talk with your father about sharing.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own. 

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again. 

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop. 

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.” 

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!” 

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants. 

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. 

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.” 

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”  

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”  

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”  

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?” 

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.” 

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”  

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”  

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”  

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”  

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself. 

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.” 

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t—��ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name. 

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.  

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder. 

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”  

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”  

“Oh.”  

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”  

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”  

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.  

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”  

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you. 

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.  

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”  

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”  

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”  

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”  

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”  

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”  

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!” 

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . . 

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.  

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you. 

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.  

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.  

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.  

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.  

And then. . . he smirks.  

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.  

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist. 

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him. 

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch. 

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.  

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.  

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.  

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.  

Yours.  

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.  

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.  

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid. 

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say. 

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.  

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.  

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”  

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.  

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.  

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop,  his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.  

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.  

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.  

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.  

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.  

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.  

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.  

“But i’m fine—”  

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”  

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you. 

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?” 

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”  

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you. 

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.  

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry. 

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.  

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.  

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.  

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.  

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”  

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."  

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no. 

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing. 

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”  

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you. 

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.  

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."  

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval. 

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound. 

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath. 

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.  

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!” 

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"  

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”  

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”  

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”  

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.  

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”  

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.  

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs. 

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”  

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”  

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”  

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”  

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”  

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”  

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”  

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”  

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.  

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”  

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.  

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.  

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.  

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”  

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.  

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!” 

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit. 

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.  

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”  

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now. 

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”  

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.  

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”  

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”  

[purple-babygirl]

I've been feeling hella insecure ever since I found out I was pregnant. My babydaddy is supportive BUT how would Bucky help his girl feel better? Ya know with all the acne popping out of nowhere and her body getting bigger (stretch fucking marks) and I know I'm just a few months away from not being able to shave so maybe throw that in there too please. Doesn't have to be a real fic just headcannons would help really. Love you from Canada ❤️❤️

unconditionally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader Word count: 2,670 Warnings: insecurities, low self-esteem, intrusive thoughts, body image, 18+ Content: mentions of fingering, a bit of dirty talk A/N: this is probably the first time I ever get an ask and want to make sure to write a reply on the very same day. congratulations on your baby, dear nonnie💜💜 I hope you have a safe pregnancy and an easy delivery, super proud of you over here💜💜💜 please forgive me if this seems rushed, I, too, feel I've gotten a bit rusty but I'm still hoping that you wouldn't completely hate this💜please excuse me while I combine a bit of another ask with yours. thank you so much for sending this ask and sharing such sweet news with me. Much love right back to you, maple syrup nonnie💜💜💜💜💜💜

~

Scars

All it took was Bucky trying to kiss the back of her hand on their second date and the slight flinch of her digits let him know something wasn’t right. At first, he thought he made her uncomfortable, so he gave her her space for the rest of the night. However, she kissed him first when he was walking her up to her door that night, so he told himself he might have imagined it all.

Then it happened again on their 4th date. They were at the movies and Bucky’s hand held hers, his thumb caressing the back of it. When his thumb brushed a particular spot, the slight flinch was back. Bucky made sure to ask if she was okay this time and she reassured him that she was. He could tell that her body gave the same tense reaction every time his thumb brushed against a specific spot on the back of her hand though, which was a scar.

She had a small scar on the bottom of her forefinger that she would mostly cover with rings. Tonight, however, she wasn’t wearing any, which led to direct contact between Bucky’s thumb and the scarred area.

Bucky told himself he was reading way too much into the situation, that it probably wasn’t that. The scar itself was very small, barely noticeable.

But his previous doubts were brought back and confirmed on their 6th date. It was the first time she let him come in after a date and the first time they were going to have sex since they started dating.

Bucky has unzipped her dress and was ready to push it down her shoulders when she held it to her chest as asked if the lights could be turned off.

“Why, doll?” He frowns despite himself, his brain not understanding why she would ever want to hide behind the curtain of darkness.

“It’s nothing... I’m just used to it.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant.

“You know by now that I can tell when you’re lying, doll.” Bucky smiles gently.

He didn’t know, but his tender smile made her want to cry.

“I— I have a scar on my tummy.”

Her voice is so small when she utters the words that it had Bucky’s heart dropping.

It must’ve been clear on his face that he feared the worst because she quickly continues, “no one hurt me, it’s just from a small surgery I had when I was a kid. But the scar is.. ya know.. still kinda.. there.”

Her arms involuntarily hugged the dress tighter to her chest and waist as she explained.

“Doll, you realize I practically have no left arm, right?”

She chuckles softly before looking up at him, “that’s different, Buck. You’re beautiful.”

“So are you!”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I mean, I can always get a tattoo or two drawn on the scars. Someone had suggested that to me before..” Her thumb caresses her scarred forefinger.

And it clicked in Bucky’s head.

Another person had made her feel this way about her scars. Some idiot had previously told her to ‘cover up’ her scars, get them tattooed over, made her feel like she wasn’t something to look at while the lights were still on.

Bucky was seething to say the least, but he couldn’t let his anger make him lose sight of what was important and what this whole thing was about. Her.

She needed to understand that she wasn’t anything short of art, a vision, a sight that could get him on his knees in a second.

“Doll, you have nothing to hide. Whatever is underneath your dress, I know it will blow my mind. I’m already hard for you, baby, I don’t care.”

She blushes, smiling up at him shyly, her eyes still unsure.

“Please, believe me.” Bucky’s hand cups her cheek as he kisses her forehead then her nose and finally her lips.

“You show me yours if I show you mine?” He whispers against her lips.

She nodded, her heart fluttering at the gesture.

Without hesitation, Bucky pulls away and takes his jacket off, pulling his t-shirt over his head next.

He stood before her in all of his glory, showing the scars on his chest, even turning around for her to see the ones on his back before facing her again and bringing her smaller hand to his left shoulder. The ugliest part of him from his point of view.

His eyes close as she tentatively touches him.

She knew it wasn’t easy for Bucky to show her himself like that. Her fingertips tracing, soothing, his scar tissue was the most intimate he has ever let anybody get with him in decades.

Her eyes tear up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest: love, compassion, gratitude, trust.

Bucky opened his eyes when she removed her touch, only to be met with the sight of her letting her dress fall around her body to pool by her feet.

She stepped out of it, showing Bucky the horizontal scar across her belly.

Without a second thought, Bucky gets on his knees before her, his lips ever so softly brushing her skin.

She closed her eyes, a tear or two escaping her eyes at the closeness of the moment.

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so safe, so accepted.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and I’m a hundred years old, baby.” Bucky whispers on her skin, the vibrations tickling her as a smile finds its way to her lips.

Acne

When it is a particularly bad breakout she would lean away further, try not to let her cheeks touch Bucky’s because she has this weird belief that she might ‘give it to him’ even though he has reassured her multiple times before that he was a super soldier who couldn’t possibly get acne. Still, she would involuntarily refrain from indulging in his cheek kisses as much as she normally would when it was a bad skin week.

If Bucky told her that he never even noticed, she would think he was lying to her. But he didn’t. She was always the same beautiful girl to him at all times. It didn’t matter if it was the week before her period or the first few months of her pregnancy; he did not see the new pimples. Bucky didn’t notice because he saw her, he focused on her rather than on the flesh and skin that covered her bones.

She was the one to bring his attention to the acne on her face, the acne on her shoulders, on her back, on her butt. Bucky didn’t care though. He loved her all the same, craved her all the same, could stare at her dreamily for hours all the same, could cum in his pants at the sight of her naked form like a horny teenager all the same.

But she had already gotten him to notice the physical changes, so he acted accordingly. With care. With love. Unconditional love.

“Doll, don’t pick,” Bucky says, gently taking her hand up to his lips before her nails could start picking at her new pimples.

He kisses her finger tips and the back of her hand before keeping it in his to make sure she wouldn’t take it to her face again.

She smiles, trying to focus back on the movie playing on their TV, but all she could really think about was how much she loves Bucky Barnes.

Body hair

The next time Bucky realized that his beloved goddess had insecurities, it surprised him still. It was when he came back from a long mission 2 days earlier than expected and tried to show her how much he’s missed her.

He noticed how she instantly closed in on herself when his foot caressed up her shin, moving away a little.

It was only when he pressed her about it through tickles that she finally provided an explanation and whispered, “I didn’t shave.”

Again, Bucky hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the this was her. His girl. The one he has missed like crazy when he was away. The one he wanted to be naked with and make love to all night long.

If she thought a bit of body hair was going to stop him, she couldn’t be more wrong.

“Doll, I don’t care.” He tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

She only ever did that once before because she was sick and forgot he couldn’t catch her cold.

“Buck, please, there’s hair everywhere.” She covers her mouth, “even the mustache has some.”

Her insecure whisper with her gaze lowered tugged at Bucky’s heart in a way he couldn’t describe.

Who the hell has led her to believe that body hair was something to be this ashamed of and where could he find them? He just wanted to talk—

“You think a little hair is going to stop me from ravishing you, doll?” Bucky asks huskily, nibbling at her earlobe.

She shivers like she always does, but still tries to pull away, “it is not just a little hair.”

She gets up and stands in the middle of the room, looking in the direction of the bathroom, “I can be quick.”

Bucky sighs, sitting down on the edge of their bed and pulling her down on his lap.

“Doll, I never wanna make you uncomfortable, you know that.”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she explains softly.

“You’re not. I am more than comfortable fucking you right on the floor beneath your feet.”

She blushes, looking up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I don’t care if you haven’t shaved for a few days or if you were turned into a yeti. You’re my girl and I want you. I will always want you.”

Bucky’s eyes were sincere and the bulge she was sitting on confirmed his words all the more, so she finally let him lay her down on her back and worship her the way she was meant to be.

Bucky let his lips kiss every inch of her that night. He licked the shit out of her thighs and ate her pussy like a starved man, not letting up until she was about to pass out, but most importantly until she believed him.

Stretch marks and body weight changes

Now that was the one that really never made Bucky blink even once. If anything, he liked them. Her stretch marks looked like the ripples of the sea on the skin of his very beloved. The fucking ocean with all its beauty under his calloused fingertips. He liked it all the more knowing it was just more evidence of his baby growing inside of her. How lucky was he?

She, of course, didn’t see it that way, examining her waist and thighs for hours before the mirror if Bucky would let her.

“Admiring how hot you are, I see.” Bucky smiled as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She instantly smiles back at his warmth engulfing her from behind though she doesn’t agree, “yeah, yeah.. hot is the word.”

“I don’t like your insinuations about my girl, doll.” He nibbles at her neck, his fingers gravitating towards her growing belly.

“That’s because there’s nothing hot about this, Bucky!” She argues, frustrated.

“Doll, you have another human growing inside of you; it’s more than normal for these changes to happen to your body.” He doesn’t stop caressing her bare tummy as his lips brush along her neck.

“I know.. doesn’t mean I will magically be able to accept it though. It’s.. a lot, Buck.”

“I know, love,” he kisses the spot behind her ear, “but I swear to you, you have never been sexier to me.”

“You swear? Pfft.” She tries to get out of his hold, unable to see what he was talking about.

“Hey,” Bucky stops her, bringing her back to stand before the mirror, “look at yourself. You’re a goddamn goddess. You have a baby in here and your body is merely accommodating, baby. Look at those full breasts.” Bucky squeezes her boobs gently in his large hands and she instantly moans, “all mine”.

“But— ”

“Who did this to you hmm?” Bucky teases, circling his thumb over her covered nipple.

“Bucky—” Her head is thrown back on his shoulder as his other hand finds its way between her legs.

“Who put a baby in you? Filled up this tight pussy again and again until you had no choice but to become knocked up?”

“Y- you did, Buck.” She breathes, her legs opening for him.

“That’s right, doll.” He slips a finger into her and then another, “look at yourself. Look how breathtaking you look with my baby growing inside of you, taking my fingers like you were meant to.”

She can barely open her eyes, yet the first thing they zero on is, “but the stretch marks—”

“I love them.” Bucky sucks at her neck.

“And all that newly gained body weight—” She moans, her hips grinding down on his hand.

“I adore it.”

“The way I’m gonna get heavier—”

“Has me absolutely infatuated.”

When her legs suddenly shake, her knees buckling, she thinks it was Bucky’s complete acceptance of her in every state that made her cum, not his fingers.

And if she thinks she’s going to walk away from that mirror before she watches herself fall apart for Bucky at least twice, she was an idiot.

 Snoring

It’s gotten a little difficult for her as the months pass to sleep in any other position but on her back, which unfortunately led to something she never used to do: snoring. The first night Bucky had woken her up to help her adjust the position of her head made her felt so embarrassed that she couldn’t go back to sleep again. And the very next night, she wanted to sleep in a different bed as to not interrupt Bucky’s sleep so much, so.. annoyingly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Buck, let’s be rational, please. You have things to do tomorrow, a mission by the end of the week. You need your sleep. Lots of it.”

“I said no, doll.”

“But listen—”

“I don’t remember you making me sleep in a different room when I used to wake you up to nightmares.”

His voice is so soft as he reminds her and it makes her heart melt.

“Bucky, that’s different—”

“You’re right, my thing almost gave you a fucking heart attack every single night, sometimes multiple times in the same night.”

“It’s not like it was something you chose to do!”

“And this is something you choose to do?”

Her mouth opens and closes but remains silent.

“Doll, I don’t wake you up at night because I’m annoyed by the snoring. I wake you up because I want you to breathe properly and have a comfortable sleep.”

“I want you to have a comfortable sleep too—”

“I do. Doll, I don’t wanna be anywhere but next to you. You think I’m gonna give up the privilege of being able to fall asleep next to you just because you started snoring?”

“Bucky.” She blushes in embarrassment, yet her heart skips a beat.

“Love, you are the reason I’m able to fall asleep like a normal person at all. How could you ever think I would wanna sleep in separate rooms?”

“I just care for you.”

“I care for you too, baby. And I wanna be there for you, with you, every step of the way. I want you snoring to wake me up because then I know to reposition your head and help you sleep better. I want your cold feet to wake me up because then I know to put socks on you because I know you can’t reach because of your belly—”

“My feet wake you up too!”

“Jesus, doll—”

~

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga @lindababe69 @sapphirebarnes

[ssentimentals]

seungcheol and reader, hurt prompt - 24 and suggestive prompt - 35.

hope you're doing welll!!! you're writing is so goood btw : ) keep it up!!!!

hello! i am doing well, thanks for asking dear, hope you are too :) thank you for the kind words and thanks for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

hurt/suggestive prompt: 'why won't it just stop?' - 'bite me.' 'don't tempt me sweetheart.'

anger used to feel like fire: it burned you from the inside, made you want to scream and shout and destroy. now anger feels like sharp knife slowly twisting in your back: it brings tears to your eyes and makes it hard to breathe. 'why won't it just stop?' you question out loud.

seungcheol is the only person in the room and he's the one who's twisting that knife in your back; he's the one who you wish you didn't love so much for it to hurt like that. 'you're refusing to see my side,' he says, voice full of remorse. 'you don't listen to me. i keep on trying to tell you-'

'oh, spare me, seungcheol!' you interrupt, rolling your eyes. 'it's always me who is not listening, always me who is apparently not understanding enough. and you're an angel, aren't you?' you pause, meeting seungcheol's gaze. there's a clear warning there, but you are hurting too much to care. 'why are you looking at me like that, huh? what you're gonna do? bite me?'

seungcheol looks very close to doing exactly so, to be honest. 'don't tempt me, sweetheart.' his voice is cold despite the petname. 'i know that you're angry-'

'i am not angry, seungcheol.' you interrupt again. 'i am hurting. do you hear? hurting. not like you care though.'

his patience snaps at this and he rushes towards you, fuming. 'you think i don't care?' he asks, throwing hands up. 'you think i don't? i'm still here, trying to make us talk, trying to make up despite your bratty ass not helping at all. this is how 'not caring' looks for you?' you turn, ready to leave the room, when he grabs your wrist: 'you are not leaving.'

'seungch- oh my god!' you shriek, when he suddenly lifts you up. 'put me down!'

'no, we will try to leave again and i am so, so fucking done with this.' he starts carrying you towards the living room, ignoring your slaps on his back. 'a little bit less resistance would've been appreciated.'

you don't even have words to say. seungcheol pretty much dumps you on the sofa and stands close, preventing all ways for an escape. 'you will talk and i will listen,' he says strictly. 'and then i will talk and you will listen. no one is interrupting anyone. clear?'

you nod. he nods back and crosses arms over his chest, staring down at you. 'go ahead then. start.'

and you do.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[moralesluvr]

WORKIN’ DAY AND NIGHT | b. eilish.

billie was supposed to be home an hour ago.

it bothered you so bad when she stayed out late and didn’t tell you that she wasn’t gonna be home, mostly because it made you feel stupid, just as you did currently— you had been up waiting for her for nearly three hours, and embarrassment was the only thing you felt now.

you texted and called, of course, but she never answered. the phone would ring a few times and then ship you right off to her voicemail. if you were being honest, the last three phone calls you made were only because all you wanted to hear was her soft voice and her sweet laugh.

“hey, it’s billieee! i can’t come to the phone right now, obviously— so just leave a message for me, and i’ll call you back. love you, take care— finneas, shut up! i’m recording my voicemail— wait, how do i turn this shit off? wait, okay, bye for real this time.”

the line went dead as you hung up the one-sided phone call. you were sad now, tears beginning to gloss over your eyes when you slithered underneath the covers of your bed, billie’s scent still lingering on the pillows and in the sheets. you laid on your side and cut off the lamp next to you, grabbing your phone and aimlessly scrolling on social media to distract your mind.

the truth was, you had a really shitty day for a multitude of reasons, and all you really wanted was to compensate for that by spending some time with your girlfriend. however, she clearly had other plans— she was in the studio with finneas and it was making you upset that she hadn’t even checked in.

frustration was what brought you to tears, not sadness. you wiped your eyes harshly and shut your phone off, sinking deep into your mattress and attempting to fall asleep, though your heart and mind were racing. you tossed and turned with the hope that the physical exertion would make you sleepy, but it did nothing but make you full of more adrenaline.

you literally tossed and turned for an hour and a half until you heard the door fly open, watching billie come through it and flicker on a small lamp on your nightstand. she was out of breath, and immediately slipped her shoes and clothes off to where she was nothing in a tank top and her underwear.

“y/n, baby— i’m so so sorry i didn’t check in, me and finneas were fucking some taco bell up and then we got so distracted with the production that i…” billie paused, now standing idle in front of you as you sat up to look at her with teary eyes. “i guess i just…i forgot.”

you laid back down in your spot in the bed as billie sat at the edge of it, putting her hair in a quick bun and grabbing some aquaphor from the drawer next to her. as she put it on her lips, she shot you a heartbroken expression, “i’m sorry baby. please talk to me…i-i feel horrible.”

“just wish you would’ve remember that i existed. enough to at least send a text.” you whispered, clearly hurt by the way your voice cracked a little when you spoke. warm tears began running down your cheeks and billie immediately scooped you up, pulling you into her lap as she laid on the covers. she pulled the duvet over you and then grabbed your face with a free hand, an apologetic expression transcribed all over her face.

“no, angel— that’s not it at all, you’re so very important to me and of course i remembered you existed. but i was just so focused on writing that i wasn’t even on my phone, but i wont let it happen again, okay? i’m gonna always put my baby first. because i love you.”

“i love you too, bils.” you murmured as she smiled, grabbing both sides of your face tightly and peppering kisses all over your skin. you groaned at first, but you secretly loved it— how soft and affectionate she got when the two of you were alone and in your quiet space together.

she kissed you once more, softly against the lips, before pulling away and rubbing your thigh underneath the blanket, “tomorrow i’m gonna make up for my mistake. we’re gonna go downtown and get food on me, and then i’m gonna take you shopping and spoil the fuck ‘outta you.”

you giggled at that, nodding your head and resting it on billie’s chest as you felt a wave of sleepiness wash over you. the last thing you felt was your girlfriend toying with your hair before you were drawn to sleep.

“sweet dreams, babygirl.”

[kissmenkillmen]

⎯ ♥︎⚔️ ， wordcount. 3,531 . . . ⎯ ♥︎⚔️ ， genre. angst, hurt/comfort. ⎯ ♥︎⚔️ ， summary. yuta JJK 0 but he went to Geto's side. ⎯ ♥︎⚔️ ， 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒 note. I'm fucking broken. I don't want to write anymore. ⎯ ♥︎⚔️ ， f!reader x yuta okkotsu. conflicted emotions, loyalty vs. love, heartbreak, mutual yearning, bittersweet longing, unresolved feelings.

Watching the person you loved most become someone unrecognizable was agonizing. It was a pain you couldn't put into words-sharp, relentless, and unbearable.

You had to watch him cross the line. Watch him turn his back on your side to join theirs. Watch him descend into the role of a killer, his hands stained with blood. Watch him fall under the enemy's manipulation.

Months passed in torment-missing him, loving him, yearning for him. Always from a distance. Always in vain.

"Do it. Kill me." Your voice trembled as you lay on the cold, unforgiving ground. Blood seeped into the dirt around you, your body battered and broken. But the ache in your chest was far worse. His katana hovered dangerously close to your throat.

The boy you had once known, the one who had held you so tenderly, was gone. In his place stood a man who had chosen to fight alongside Geto, declaring war on the Jujutsu Sorcerers.

And now, here he was, poised to take your life.

This this moment was the most excruciating of all.

Yuta felt his hands trembling. It all felt so surreal, having to kill his former ally—the one he had spent so much time protecting and cherishing. One of his best friends. He couldn't believe the same person would become this.

Hearing your voice, he froze, feeling his heart break again as he looked down at you. He felt his resolve waver, his hand shaking. You were the love of his life, after all. He wanted to go with you. He wanted to return to those days of normalcy, where he could hold you without a care in the world. But he couldn't.

Yuta stared down at you. He still remembered how it felt to hold your hands in his. Your hands were so soft and small, while his were rough and large. But they fit perfectly together.

When your hands intertwined, he felt like he was where he was supposed to be. Safe, secure, happy. It felt so right. So warm, so comforting. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he remembered it all—how your hands felt, how your body felt, how your lips felt against his.

"I'm sorry. I-I have to do this."

Yuta stared down at you, his mind screaming at him. This is wrong. Go to her. Don't kill her. Don't continue hurting her. Let go of your katana and hold her in your arms again. Let go of the damn katana.

His heart ached at the thought of having to hurt you. He clenched his teeth, trying to will away the pain that spread in his chest.

His eyes were glossy as he stared down at the girl he used to hold so close.

He remembered the nights you spent together—laughing, whispering, loving. He remembered your smile, your laugh, the way you would cling to him. He could still hear your soft voice in his head, your words still vivid in memory. He could still feel your small hands holding his. Your head leaning against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist. His hands running through your soft hair.

He tried to imagine the future the two of you could have had if he ran away with you, away from all of this.

You would be together, in a house somewhere. Just him and you. Every night would be spent holding you close, every morning he would wake to your sleeping figure beside him. Every moment would be spent loving you. He would get to see your smile every day. You would be his.

But it was only a daydream. A wish in the back of his mind. He could never have that future again, no matter how badly he wanted it. You would never look his way again, and you could never be together.

He would never hold you again, never kiss you again, never feel the touch of your hands against his skin. You would never look up at him again with adoring eyes, you would never again hold his hand and kiss his cheek.

Never. Again.

He tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was difficult. He felt his eyes begin to sting. His chest felt like it was being ripped apart. He wasn't sure if it was his own resolve wavering or if it was his heart cracking from the inside out.

A tear welled up in his eye, but he did nothing to wipe it away. He remained silent, frozen. His mind was all over the place, confused and conflicted. He wanted to run to you, hold you, beg for your forgiveness, and run away to be with you. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't run again.

He stared down at you longer, feeling his heart ache more the longer he looked at you. You looked worse off than when you first met. You were wounded, your clothes stained with blood. It killed him even more.

It pained him to see you like this. How badly he wanted to go to you, to help you, to pull you into his arms and hold onto you. For you to be safe, away from all the chaos around him.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek, trying to fight back the lump in his throat. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his katana. His eyes were glossy, his mind filled with memories.

Every second he didn't kill you was a second the two of you could be together. But he couldn't. He had to stay focused. He had to stay loyal to his mentor. He could not waver.

He had to remind himself that his loyalty to Geto was his priority now. His mentor always took care of him. Now he had to return the favor. His mind was trying to convince him, to convince his heart that Geto would take care of him now. Geto took him in when he had no one. Now it was his turn to help him.

No matter how much it hurt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice trembling. He wanted to reach out to you. To gently touch you. To hold your face in his hands one last time. To run his fingers through your hair. He wanted to, so badly. His chest felt unbearably tight, the ache in his chest growing more painful the longer he held back.

His heart was telling him to go to you, to apologize, to hold you in his arms again and tell you everything would be alright. But he couldn't. He had other responsibilities to tend to first. He couldn't be selfish. He had to follow the path Geto set for him.

His resolve weakened even more, the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. You were the only person in his life that he truly cherished, and he had to sacrifice all of it.

He couldn't let his selfish desires consume him. He needed to stay focused. He had to ignore his emotions.

He didn't want to continue hurting you. It was the last thing he wanted. But he had no choice. He had been given this assignment. He had to follow the path laid out before him. His mentor knew what was best.

His trembling hands tightened even more against his katana. He could feel his body wavering, his legs shaking. He wanted to fall to his knees as he looked down at you. His mind screamed for him to go to you, to apologize, to hold you. Even if for the last time.

But he had to ignore it. His mentor knew best.

He could feel his heart breaking, knowing this would be the last time the two of you would see each other like this. This would be the last memory you had of him. You wouldn't see him again.

He wouldn't get to see you again. He wouldn't hold you again. He wouldn't kiss you again. He wouldn't hear your voice call his name.

This needed to be done. Even if it broke his heart. Even if he knew he would never recover from it. It had to be done. He couldn't waver. Not now.

His hands were trembling, the katana almost threatening to slip from his grasp. He tried to calm his breathing, trying to regain control of his body.

His head was screaming at him to stop. His heart was telling him to hug you. But his mind was convincing him that this had to be done. Geto always knew what was best.

He couldn't look away from you. He could see the pain in your eyes, the sadness. It hurt him even more. You were always so sweet. You always seemed so happy. You didn't deserve to feel like this. You never had anything but light in your soul.

And there you were, lying at his feet, hurting because of him. It made his heart ache so badly with guilt.

He clenched his teeth, trying to fight back the pain he felt in his chest. His heart was aching. This felt so wrong. This wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to hold you in his arms one last time. He wanted you safe in his arms. He wanted it to be okay. For you to be okay.

His heart was screaming in pain again. Looking down at you, his lover, now hurt and bloodied. He was the one responsible. His mind kept reminding him what was at stake. He couldn't stop the tears that were building up in his eyes.

"S... Sorry," he whispered. But his words were barely audible.

He couldn't even bring himself to say it loud enough for you to hear. You wouldn't be hearing anything from him again. He wouldn't speak to you again. He wasn't even worthy of calling you by the pet name he used for you ever again. He didn't deserve to say it again.

"I... I'm sorry," Yuta whispered, loud enough for you to hear him this time.

He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. He felt his chest ache. He felt his heart break. How badly he wanted to drop his katana and pull you into his arms. For you to hold onto his shirt tightly again. To feel your soft hands against him.

He wanted to apologize to you for all the hurt he caused. Even though he knew an apology wasn't enough.

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. His chest felt heavy, his heart in so much pain. He couldn't even look at you anymore, so he clenched his eyes shut.

His grip on the katana faltered for a moment as his mind battled with itself. He could hear the faint sound of your breathing, shallow and strained. Each breath you took felt like a dagger to his chest.

What was he doing? How could he be the one to bring you to this state?

He opened his eyes reluctantly, his vision blurred by the tears he couldn't stop. You were still there, broken, bleeding, and looking up at him with an expression that tore him apart. You weren't pleading, you weren't even angry. You just looked... resigned.

That was the worst part. The acceptance in your eyes, as if you had already forgiven him for what he was about to do.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" His voice cracked, trembling as he tried to sound stronger than he felt. He wanted to hear you yell at him, curse him, anything but this painful silence.

But you didn't answer. Maybe you were too weak, too hurt. Or maybe you knew the truth—that nothing you could say would change his course.

Yuta's legs finally gave out beneath him, and he sank to his knees beside you, his katana clattering to the ground. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go through with this.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, his hands trembling as he reached toward you but stopped short of touching your face. He didn't deserve to hold you, to comfort you. Not after what he'd done.

His tears fell freely now, dripping onto the blood-stained ground between you. He hated himself. He hated what he'd become. He hated the person he'd turned into under Geto's guidance.

"You... you deserved so much better than this," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

For a moment, he thought about taking you away from all of this. Throwing everything aside—Geto, the sorcerers, the war—and disappearing with you. Living a life where none of this pain existed, where the only thing that mattered was the love you shared.

But even that dream felt selfish. He knew there was no escaping the choices he'd already made.

"I don't know how to fix this," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't even know if I can."

Yuta clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought against the sobs threatening to overtake him. He hated how weak he felt in this moment, how powerless he was to undo the damage he'd caused.

All he could do was sit there, helpless, as the weight of his decisions crushed him.

You stirred slightly, your voice faint but steady. "Yuta..."

He froze, his eyes locking onto yours as he waited for you to continue.

"Just... end it," you whispered, your words cutting through him like a blade.

His chest tightened, and his breath hitched. How could you say that? How could you ask him to do the very thing he feared most?

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head as if the motion alone could banish the thought. "I won't. I can't."

You managed a faint, broken smile, the kind that held no happiness, only pain. "Then what will you do?"

Yuta had no answer. For the first time in his life, he truly had no idea what to do. The only thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't hurt you any more than he already had.

So, he did the only thing he could. He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to the ground beside you, his tears soaking into the dirt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

Your breathing was ragged, each shallow inhale punctuating the silence between you. Yuta didn't dare move, his forehead still pressed to the ground, his body trembling with the weight of everything he'd done.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to protect you, to love you, to shield you from pain—not become the source of it.

"Yuta..." Your voice came again, faint and unsteady, but he heard it clearly, as if it were the only sound in the world. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his head to look at you.

Tears streaked his face, his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. All he could do was stare, memorizing every detail of your face, even in its pain and exhaustion.

You gave him a look he couldn't decipher—soft, but heavy with meaning. "It's okay," you said weakly, your voice almost drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears.

He shook his head violently. "No, it's not," he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. "Nothing about this is okay. I... I can't..."

You blinked slowly, your eyelids heavy, but your gaze never wavered from him. "You have to make a choice," you murmured. "This can't go on forever, Yuta. It hurts too much..."

The lump in his throat grew unbearable. He wanted to scream, to tear apart the universe that had brought him to this moment. The world demanded a choice from him, but every option was soaked in agony.

"I can’t lose you," he said, his voice cracking. "Not like this."

A bitter smile crossed your lips. "You already have."

The words shattered him. His hands dug into the dirt beneath him, trembling as the full weight of reality bore down on him. You were right. He'd lost you the moment he picked up his katana, the moment he chose his path.

But still, he couldn't bring himself to finish what he'd started. His katana lay forgotten on the ground, inches from his grasp, and yet it felt like an unbreachable chasm separated him from it.

"I don’t care what happens to me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I walk away from all of this, if Geto finds out—none of it matters if you’re alive. If you’re safe."

You stared at him, the pain in your eyes momentarily replaced by something softer. Hope? Pity? He couldn't tell.

"Yuta..."

He leaned forward, finally closing the distance between you. His hands hovered over you, unsure if he had the right to touch you after everything he'd done. But in that moment, he didn't care. Gently, he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cold, clammy skin.

"You’re all I have left," he said, his tears falling freely now. "I don’t care what it takes. I’ll protect you, even if it costs me everything. Even if..."

He trailed off, his words catching in his throat. Even if you never forgave him. Even if he couldn’t undo the damage. Even if he had to fight the entire world to keep you safe.

You didn’t respond. Maybe you didn’t have the strength. Maybe you didn’t believe him. But you didn’t pull away from his touch, and for Yuta, that was enough.

"I’ll make this right," he promised, his voice steady despite the tears. "I swear to you, I’ll make this right."

The storm in his heart hadn’t subsided—it raged on, wild and relentless. But for the first time, Yuta felt a glimmer of clarity. A purpose. A path forward.

One that didn’t involve losing you. One where he fought not for Geto, not for himself, but for you.

Whatever it took, whatever the cost, Yuta would find a way. Even if it meant defying everything he once believed in. Even if it meant becoming someone he no longer recognized.

Because the thought of a world without you in it was a fate worse than death.

Yuta's breathing grew shallow as he held you, his trembling hands supporting your weight. Your skin felt colder than it should, a grim reminder of how close he had brought you to the edge. His resolve, so deeply rooted in loyalty and obligation, was now splintered into fragments, replaced by a desperate, singular need—to save you.

He looked at you, his heart breaking at the sight of your pale face and the weakness in your gaze. You weren’t supposed to look like this. You were supposed to shine, to smile. The light he adored so much, the warmth you carried with you, was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’ll get you help," he said, his voice breaking, though he didn’t know how much of that promise was for you and how much was to convince himself. "I swear—I’ll fix this. I’ll find a way."

You blinked slowly, each motion labored, but your eyes remained locked on his. “Yuta...” you whispered, voice faint and fragile. It wasn’t the anger he expected. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was sorrow, deeper than anything he could understand.

“You’re hurting yourself,” you murmured, your words a soft tremor against the silence. “You’re breaking yourself for something... you don’t even believe in anymore.”

His breath hitched, your words hitting him like a blade to the chest. You were right. You always had been. But what could he say? How could he admit that he'd betrayed everything he once believed in, that he had been too weak to stand against Geto’s will?

He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “That doesn’t matter now,” he said, though his voice shook with uncertainty. “You’re all that matters. I’ll leave it all behind—I’ll leave him behind. I’ll find a way to make this right.”

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it was bittersweet. “It’s not that easy,” you said, your voice barely audible. “They’ll come for you, Yuta. They’ll come for both of us.”

“Let them.” The words came out fierce, sharper than he intended. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but there was steel in his voice now, a determination that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t care what happens to me. As long as you’re alive, as long as you’re safe—I’ll fight them all. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you again.”

Your expression softened, but the pain in your eyes remained. You raised a trembling hand to his face, your fingers brushing against his damp cheek. “You can’t save me,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your own cheek. “Not if you’re broken too.”

Yuta froze, the weight of your words crashing down on him. You were right, but the truth was unbearable. He didn’t know how to save you without losing himself in the process. He didn’t even know if he could save you at all.

But as he held you in his arms, as he felt the fragile rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, he made a vow.

Even if it cost him everything, even if it meant facing Geto’s wrath, even if it meant tearing himself apart—he would fight.

For you.

For the future you deserved.

For the chance to see you smile again, even if it was the last thing he ever saw.

“I’m not losing you,” he said, his voice steady now, his grip on you tightening as if to anchor himself. “Not today. Not ever.”

And as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Yuta stood, his katana forgotten on the ground, his heart set on the impossible.

Because for you, the impossible was worth it.

© kissmenkillmen 2024. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works.

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

caldre smut fic

includes spanking, praise, degradation, daddy kink, andre being overly worried, etc.

note: this came from a post and then my boyfriend found the full video, so i decided to write this….enjoy your slop/j

calvin was situated over andres lap while he sat on his bed, jeans pulled down to his knees to show his grey boxers.

cal had wanted to try something different this time around, but andre was hesitant.

it was weird to put it simply and he didnt want to hurt his boyfriend. although, theyve done a lot worse - even before they established they were dating.

so, nonetheless he still tries.

“just do it, ‘dre. itll be fine,” cal reassures him, looking back at him “im *asking* you to do it, arent i?”

andre slowly nodded “well, yeah, but i dont want to - you know, hurt you.”

the blonde smiled, enjoying all of the others worry and care “thats the point though, andre. its supposed to hurt.”

hes not wrong, it was supposed to hurt. he just didnt want to get too carried away and hurt him *too* badly.

calvin seems to know what hes thinking, so he adds “i trust you. i know you wont make it too bad.”

with that andre lets out a sigh, flexing his hands to let his knuckles crack “if it hurts too bad youll tell me, yeah?”

calvin quickly nodded, too eager to worry about that sort of thing. he liked how much andre cared, but sometimes it would get in the way of things.

however, the brunette finally gets on with it, trusting that cal will tell him if it becomes too much for him.

andre lays his hand flat over calvins ass, lifting it before bringing it right back down. it wasnt anything too hard at first, but it wasnt too soft either.

cal lets out a short squeak, burying his face into the bedsheets. it felt good although it wasnt exactly the roughness he was looking for.

he brings his hand up again and then back down, taking note of the way the others body seemed to jolt.

he does it a third time and then a forth, now being able to feel cals erection hard against his thigh.

“do it - a little harder, please, andre.” he begged, voice muffled from the bed sheets. he *needed* it to be as hard and rough as possible.

andre hesitated again though, but ultimately obliged - he brought his hand down harder this time which pulls a whiny moan out of his boyfriend.

“was that alright?” he asked, wanting to make sure he was doing it how he wanted him to.

“yeah - god, yeah, ‘dre. keep doing it like that *please.*” his eagerness and begging seemed to take a toll on him. it was always one of the things that got to him.

andre hits him even harder, reveling in the cry he gets in return. its beautiful, really, he thought all the noises cal made were gorgeous.

he gets ready to do it again, but is interrupted by feeling the other grind down against his thigh. it makes his breath hitch and he gets an idea - an idea he has no clue if calvin will like or not, but he does it anyway.

andre slams down his hand twice as hard, getting an even louder cry from cal “dont fucking grind against me unless i tell you otherwise, alright?”

the blonde is ecstatic as soon as he says that - he loves when andre is dominant and can use his naturally commanding tone for something like this.

“yeah - yes, sir - daddy, ah, fuck,” it comes out in a string of nonsense, but hes able to catch onto what he says and it makes his erection strain against his pants.

he doesnt reply though and just lays another slap down, listening to the moaning and whining.

he decides though that he wants to change this up a little bit.

he takes a moment to pull down calvins grey boxers, exposing him fully now. he doesnt seem to mind it - only letting out a whimper from the lack of touch.

andre gives him what he wants again though, flattening out his hand once more and hitting him.

it hurts more now without the barrier and cal lets it show, pressing his hips down as if to move away from the other.

the brunette takes notice and lays down an even harsher hit “i thought you wanted this, calvin? did you change your mind?”

cal cant get over the way he says his name, whimpering again as he shook his head, but that wasnt good enough. he lets out a yelp as hes hit once again.

“yeah - i do, i want it, sir,” it comes out, almost stuttery “please - im sorry.”

andre hummed, letting his hand rest over his ass as he rubbed at the mark already starting to form “tell me how much you want it, cal.”

the blonde swallowed hard, but does his best to answer “so, so bad, ‘dre. i - i wanna feel your hands on me,” he yelped as he was cut off by another slap, but he continued “please, daddy - shit, it feels so good.”

andre wasnt sure if he was dreaming or not. this was too good to be true and he couldnt get enough of it.

he then grabbed a fistful of his silky blonde hair, yanking his head up to look at him.

there were *tears* streaking down his face and there was spit covering his mouth and chin.

he hadnt even realized he started crying and he wants to ask if hes okay - if this was getting to be too much for him, but his boyfriend already knew what he was going to say, so he gives him a short, subtle nod for him to continue.

thats all he needed.

“are you sure thats what you want?,” he questioned, yanking his head back a little further “you want me to keep hurting you like youre some *slut?*”

the blonde nodded eagerly, sniffling “please, please daddy. i need it so fucking bad - you have no idea.”

he lets go of his hair and gets ready to continue, but the other is confused when he doesnt get right back to it.

however, his confusion turns to excitement when he hears andre unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops on his pants.

andre holds both ends and doesnt hesitate to smack it right down against him, hearing the string of sounds and sobs it earns.

he does it again and again - continuing to do it over and over again while he watched the area turn a pretty shade of pink and red.

it was beautiful. he thought calvin looked like an angel no matter what they were doing - even if it something as dirty as this.

“oh, oh ‘dre,” he moaned, digging his nails into the bed sheets “you gotta let - let me do it, daddy. oh, you have to.” its obvious what he means and he figured it wouldnt hurt to let him.

“only if you can behave - dont hump me like some damn dog.” before he can even finish his sentence, he was already grinding down against him like earlier. it felt good to finally relieve the pain.

at this point the blonde was panting like a dog, grinding down against andres thigh so hard that his jeans were starting to irritate his cock, but he makes no effort to stop him.

“oh, fuck, fuck - you, you gotta let me cum, daddy, please-“ it comes out in a sob - so desperate and needy to get himself off no matter what.

andre doesnt have a reason not to let him, so he agreed “yeah, go ahead, cal.” he says it all soft, contrasting from his earlier tone.

calvin takes that and grinds his hips down just about as hard as he could while andre takes the opportunity to lay another hit or two on him.

it was only a moment later that he was cumming all over his thigh with a high pitched moan - moaning andres name as loud as he could, just for him to hear.

its music to his ears, he thinks. all of this was perfect.

calvin is exhausted by the time hes finished, letting himself lay on andres lap while he comes down from his high.

the brunette sets the belt down and placed his hand back over the marks, rubbing over them gently again “that was really good.” he says it, sounding embarrassed for even being into it.

calvin lets out a breathless laugh, finding it cute how embarrassed he seemed to be.

he managed to sit up after a moment, trying to get over the stinging pain in his body “you did good too, ‘dre. youre the best at this,” he compliments him, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before pulling away “im so lucky to have you.”

the contrast between his words and what they did was amusing, but andre didnt care. he just smiled as his face warmed up.

although before he can comment, cals already looking down at his pants.

“oh, andre, your pants,” he tries to hold back his laughter “youre too easy.”

he gives him a confused look, but when he looks down he becomes about a hundred times more embarrassed. there was a wet spot right over his front, obviously from cumming himself.

“goddamnit,” he hissed under his breath “ruined my damn jeans.”

“they were already ruined anyway,” he gestured to the more obvious white spot that was from cal rather then himself “you can just borrow mine, i dont care.”

cal could say he was lucky all he wanted, but at the end of the day andre was even luckier then him.

“thanks, man,” he sighed “do you need me to do anything for you? you know - because…” he was still worried he had hurt him too much, but his boyfriend was quick to reassure him again.

“im fine, andre. dont worry so much,” he smiled as he wiped away the remaining tears in his eyes, face now tacky and dry “you did great.”

he finds it hard to believe him, but he forces himself to anyway.

“im allowed to worry, cal. youre my - uh, shit…” his voice trails off, not being able to say the word. it was all still so new so he didnt want to mess up and say the wrong thing.

“just because im your *boyfriend* now doesnt change anything,” he says it for him “im still the same person.”

he placed his hand on the side of his face, kissing him again. the other quickly reciprocated and leaned into it.

“i love you, ‘dre.”

“i love you too, cal.”

[dokkamj]

BOLD

hey MJ here, english is not my first language i’m sorry for grammar errors, this content is 18+ MDNI!!

disclaimer; i didn’t write in months so its sounds like an old draft of 2016 sorry for that, hope you can enjoy no matter this.

'Please I don't wanna wait" he muttered against your lips, you could tell he was such in a mood, he was stressed and you two didn't saw each others for months, he was too busy in his international missions and you needed to study hard for that degree. You felt his hands squeeze your hips forcefully, the three glasses of wine didn't helped that was for sure, he took you out for dinner with the fixed thought of you all shy underneath him."Did you always smell this good?" He muttered against your neck the tip of his nose brushed against your butter skin that he had missed so much to feel against him, you giggle a bit the alcohol did such a number on your poor body that doesn't really hand wine."its just perfume Simon" you brushed it off but he shook his head and sighed "nah its you, i can feel it, my dick can feel it"

the bold statement escaped his lips, he likes to make you feel embarrassed, he almost moaned on your neck, your cheeks started to gain a reddish color that he couldn't help but find cute, you can't handle him when he gets bold too much, you still was a softie on this type of things, but you can actually feel your body start to react at his words and needy touches. "You are all flushed" he pointed out, you rolled your eyes and took off his mask gently to reveal his smirk underneath the balaclava.

You pressed your lips against his, he groaned slightly as he lifts you up from your thighs make you the sign to lock your ankles behind his back as he starts to walk towards the bedroom. He loved the way you were just so damn light in his big arms, he was gonna have a good night that's for sure.

You two lay down on the soft matters and in seconds he was on top of you making your legs spread for him "i bet you missed this" you muttered, usually you where silent ad not really talkative since you have a big taboo about sex, he spended months taking it slow with you because he knows how delicate and sensitive this was for you, but hearing you teasing him?

Did some effect to him since he was the only one bold in this relationship.

"Mh? Repeat please, sweetheart" he muttered."I was saying" you begun making him lay down next to you and then crawl on top of him, maybe it was the alcohol having this effect on you, or it was because the distance, in the whole year you had been together it never happened that he got deployed for more then two months and your skin burn just for his soft touches.

You sneak your hands underneath his shirt "that i bet you've have missed this, me.. on top of you" you whispered in his ear and he needed a good amount of seconds to understand that you where actually taking a lead, he groaned feeling your polish red nails scratching his abs making him breath irregularly.

You actually liked his reaction, before, you felt like you where walking on eggshells, but right now your ego was boosted enough to push some boundaries that you had on yourself.

"What? Did you lost your tongue Simon??" You asked with a playful smirk as you tuck your hand on the hem of his jeans and start to play with his happy trail making him gasp for air.

what was happening to his sweet angel that was too innocent to say the word sex out loud??

“Com'on Simon, play with me" those words where enough to send him on edge.

He rose up with a smirk upon his lips his hands where immediately on you, one on yur neck while the other where in your hair, as you two where both on your knees on the bed as you two kissed his mind spin with many idea some of them where risky since…

holy hell you where so delicate and he really doesn't want to hurt you physically and mentally, but fuck it he was gonna do it.

With your hands stil tucked on the hem of his trousers he makes you unbuckle his belt and undo his zip, your soft little hands against him was making his willpower crumbling. "Yeah good girl..." he begun before as he helped you free himself from the soft material of his boxer then he pushed your head down slightly a clear sign "now suck" it sounded a bit rude he was thinking that maybe this was too much but then you smirked, bit his lips and with your gaze on his you lowered yourself, he was hard as hell, seeing you bold for the first time was effect him. You pressed your soft lips against the tip of his cock making him hang with his mouth slightly open and without fucking breath.

Your tongue swirl around the tip, teasing him "like this?" You asked before suck on it, keeping the eye contact, when did you become like this? He moaned as he tight the grip on your hair, he wasn't gonna ask any questions, no sir. He was gonna enjoy this as much as possible. it was such a sight seeing you with your cheeks flushed the sleepy eyes from the alcohol and your lipstick smudged on his dick.

You go down on his shaft, not worrying to use more saliva than usual, his hips thrusted to hit the back of your throat and when it was enough, he pulled you up from your hair again "little princess became a whore when i was away? What happened? Missed this cock so much that you can't help yourself??" He asked almost being rude involuntary but fuck he felt like he was gonna explode if you sucked one more time, he doesn't makes you replay that he licked your lips without any shame or disgust, like com on, he was a soldier he wasn't a fancy man that could get disgusted easily.

The grip on your neck tighten slightly, he was dying to fuck you properly, and you can't help to squeeze your tights together, can't handle to wait anymore, you needed him inside of you as soon as possible "please, please" you begged him as his hands sneak underneath the tight top, you moaned against his mouth and without a second thought you pull down your skirt but he stops you "no, leave it on" his voice gruff, you nodded and he quickly sneak a hand underneath your skirt starting to caress your core with his thick fingers making you moan almost moving yourself against them, he smirked.

"You wan this mh? Say it princess" he muttered feeling how wet you was and he didn't even touch you that much "i want you, please" your whispered against his shoulder as you rest your forehead against it "more explicit honey" he said as he move aside your panties and roughly slip a finger in, you gasped for air "i want you inside of me Simon, please" you muttered arching your back against him, on a random day, this would have been more than enough, but you was the one to put him in another mood. "What do you want inside of you mh?" He asked once more as he kept fingering you by adding another finger inside of your tight core.

At this point you was loosing it "i want you to slip your cock inside of me and fuck me Simon. You heard me this time?" You asked as your patience run thin, his smirk grow wider he bit the lobe of your ear before grabs you from your hips and slammed you on all fours on the bed, roughly rolled up your mini skirt that made his head spin the whole dinner.

He slammed his dick inside of you, a moan escaped from your mouth as he starts to pump into you roughly, grabbing locks of your hair and pull them making you rose up on your knees and grab your cheeks in his hand "look at me, you heard me love ?" He kissed you, the other hand on your hip holding you in place as he kept moving his hips roughly, if you knew he would have been like this after a simple tease, you would have done this long time ago.

Gods you where so good to do what he tells you, and he fucking loves it, his hand moved from your hips trailing down your stomach to reach your clit and with two finger he pressed that sweet point, your legs shaking as you reached the orgasm, pressing your back against his chest as you let go on him was a sight that makes him even more hard than before, and your pussy clench making him moan against your neck as he cup one of your breast and squeeze it forcefully. "Fuck you are so tight love" he muttered biting the back of your neck.

When Simon ripped off his shirt you realized that you two still have your out clothes on. He pulls out and without even give you a second to catch your breath he pulls you from your ankle until you reached the edge of the bed with your ass, he lifts you up from your tights and walk towards his desk, making you seat and spread your legs with his hands squeezing your flesh and keep you in place he dropped himself on knees and press his mouth against your core, like a hungry animal shamelessly.

your head falls back as you moaned, your hands automatically reached for his hair pushing his head deeper into you as you moaned, his tongue caress your flesh as he suck on your clit making your legs shake as he demand you to stay in place as he eats you up. "Simon holy hell" you moaned desperately as you reached your second orgasm in less then five minutes, he was too good at this and he knows how to use it against your poor body.

He stand up still licking his own lips with a satisfying grin, and you breathless knowing to well that you wont walk straight for at least two days.

he brushed the tip of his dick against your folds "can i princess?" He asked knowing that maybe you were a bit tired "please, need to feel your tight pussy around my cock" he taps on your clit making you squirm as reaction. You looked at him a bit exhausted, but you wasn't gonna say no, so you nodded looking at him "fuck me like a good lieutenant that you are" you teased, and fuckinh hell he could feel himself getting even harder and on edge.

as he gets into you once again he moaned your name against your neck, his thrust where rough, as his mouth marks your neck by leaving soft kisses and hickeys here and there, but you wanted to return the favor, you cup his cheeks with a hand and making him facing you "look at me when you fuck me Simon" you called him out with a teasing smirk on your lips making him catch his breath, and he felt how close he was, with two more thrusts he pulls out and release on your folds.

Fuck he was breathing like he had the most intese sparring session, he looks at you with a smirk on his lips knowing damn well that he wasn't done with you yet.

[wileycap]

Vi's journey broke my fucking heart and I do not see anyone talking about it, so I will.

The Writing In Arcane Was Very Good, Actually (SPOILERS)

The core of her character is that Vi lets herself be hurt. Again and again, and she asks nothing for herself. In S1E2 when she's talking to Vander, she says "I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down here. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it."

Not "I want more than that." She says "I grew up knowing I'm less" and even then, she's already accepted it. It's fine if it happens to her.

When Jinx blows up the council, again it's "I can do this alone, nobody else has to get hurt." She doesn't want the badge, but she takes it anyways because if she doesn't, Caitlyn will be hurt. So it's fine if it's her principles that get tossed out. It's fine if it happens to her.

When Caitlyn hurts her, again - she directs all the harm at herself. She doesn't grab Cait and beat the shit out of her for hurting her. She goes and becomes a pit fighting alcoholic so that she can keep the pain where it belongs, with her. It's fine if it happens to her.

And then... Jinx comes to get her, and they get Vander. She gets to see Jinx be a big sister, try to carry more so that Isha could carry less. And she sees Jinx lose what she lost. (I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play.)

She tries to help Jinx again and she gets hit with another betrayal. Except this time... Jinx wants to make the same choice Vi always makes. "You don't need to feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her." She's no longer judging Vi or resenting her, because after Isha, how could she? She understands Vi. She understands her too well.

When she's completely broken down, Caitlyn comes in. And Caitlyn isn't upset or angry, no, Caitlyn knew she'd go to her sister and planned for it. Caitlyn accepted her and her need and put aside her own need for revenge.

This is followed by the best sex scene I've ever seen. Now, you have to understand that sex scenes make me uncomfortable, so this is like, high praise from me.

Vi expects to be punished. "Say it. 'I told you so.'" She is literally imprisoned by her mind (wow, filmmaking 101!). And she expects to be taken out of there, to be put back into the fight (like the first time Cait set her free) so she can be hurt and be useful.

And instead, Caitlyn opens the door and steps inside. Into Vi's prison ("Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation.") To give her understanding and love and most importantly, time. They have more important things to do. There's an invasion coming. And still, Caitlyn puts Vi first.

And Vi lets her. She initiates it, she leans into the comfort and intimacy being offered. It's actually beautiful.

(And then Jinx comes back to help, too, - healing that wound - and even though she loses her again... she can allow herself to move on and be happy. Like she never could before.)

(And we know Jinx survives, but she leaves because yes, sometimes you have to walk away. Sometimes meaningful healing can't happen if you're stuck in the same situation.)

(And Caitlyn figures it out, but doesn't tell anyone. She learned how to forgive and move on, and she's letting Vi do the same.)

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it, no matter how the world tries to break you."

She didn't.

[winchesterwild78]

Silly Rabbit

Master List

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, fluff, language

A/N: Just a quick story from a tagged post by @jackles010378. Reader is an emotional drunk and Dean becomes aware one evening after returning home and finding her crying.

This was written fast and not edited good. All work is my own, don’t take it or copy it. Reblogs, likes, and feedback are always welcomed.

Minors DNI 18+

Dean’s footsteps heavy on the bunker steps as he descended the stairs. He had just gotten home from a hunt and was ready to hold you in his arms. 

As he walked towards the kitchen to grab a beer he heard sobs coming from the dining room. Turning on his heels he quickly went in, finding you at the table. Glass of whiskey in one hand and a cereal box in the other. 

A smirk grew on his face. “Hey sweetheart, you okay?” “Oh Dean, you’re home. No, I’m not okay. We protect people, why can’t we protect rabbits?” Your speech slurred, Dean knew you were drunk. “Rabbits?” “Yes, rabbits.” You held up the box of cereal and Dean saw the cartoon rabbit on the box. He chuckled, “Sweetheart, he doesn’t need protecting.” 

You tried to stand but stumbled. Dean caught you. “Yes, all he wants is some cereal and those mean kids won’t give him any. Why, Dean, why?” You sobbed into his chest. Dean rubbed your head, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Honey, he’ll be okay. I remember he got some one time, years ago.” Your eyes shot up to his, “Really? So they tease him with a bowl one time and then keep it away. Oh my god, monsters.” Louder sobs came from your lips. “I tell you what, tomorrow we will write a letter to the company and demand they give the rabbit some cereal.” Dean laughed. “Really? You’d do that for me, for the rabbit?” “Of course sweetheart.” He kissed your head. 

Dean had seen you tipsy before, but he’d never seen you this drunk. He knew something happened that caused you to drink this much. 

“Darlin’, talk to me. What’s this about?” “I told you, the rabbit.” He lifted your chin, “No, it’s not.” Your head dropped, “Yes it is.” You cried harder. Dean knew something else happened, but he also knew you’d keep it from him while you tried to work it out for yourself. The two of you were very similar that way. 

Dean grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “Baby, please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Is anyone hurt?” You shook your head no. “Did someone die?” Again, you shook your head no. “Do you want a divorce?” Your head shot up and you gasped, “No!” “Good, just checking.” “Darlin’ I hate seeing you like this, please talk to me.” 

You took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “I ran into her today. She asked about you. She wanted me to tell you she still loved you and wanted you back. I told her we were married, and she said she already knew that. She already knew, but wanted me, your wife, to tell you that she loved you and wanted you back. He was with her, and I know she said he’s not yours, but he looks just like you.” 

“Sweetheart, I told you I don’t want her. I want you, I’m married to you. She can try whatever she wants, but she’s not going to get me. You are my wife, my love, my home. My emotional, big hearted, sweet, caring, sexy as hell, wife. There is nothing that will ever change that.” He pulled you flush to his body and kissed you deeply. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have drank so much, but that fucking rabbit still deserves some cereal.” Dean laughed, “Come on sweetheart, let’s take the cereal with us to the bedroom. I want to show you how much I love being your husband.” 

He picked you up, carrying you and the box of cereal to your shared bedroom. Laughter and giggles filled the bunker as Dean carried you down the hallway. 

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[abrisaber]

The thing that disappoints me about this season of HB is that I don't think Stolas will ever be held accountable for anything he's done. Like in the most recent episode he's stripped from his title and his possessions and his privileges, but that's systematic. It's about him realizing how much the lower class hates his guts, but it's painted as a whole "Oh everyone is being so mean to Stolas." When he probably deserves at least some of the vitriol that he's getting.

But none of that is addressing his relationship with Blitz like at all. It's not even about the writing, it's about the actual meaning behind it.

Regardless of how Stolas or Blitz felt or what they meant behind their actions, Stolas still blatantly used his status as a high ranking Goetia, still blatantly made sexual advances onto Blitz who physically recoiled from him and told him no, and still deliberately continued sleeping with another man despite how it was hurting his daughter. And regardless of how he tried to "mend" his relationship with Blitz, he never actually apologized. He was never put into a negative light for how he held Blitz in an impossible position by keeping the object that Blitz needed to do his job behind sexual transactions. It's never actually addressed how, even after apologizing to Octavia for being such a screw up, doesn't even try to change for his daughter like, at all. In fact his daughter is barely in the fucking show.

Instead of actually laying down the toxic shit Stolas has done, he's congratulated and once again treated like a fucking puppy dog. Yes he did lay down his life for Blitz, but that sacrifice felt so fucking hollow to me because Stolas will never be held accountable for his negative actions.

When in his relationship with Blitz is Stolas ever actually put into a negative light? He says their relationship was transactional and unhealthy, but he also gets pissy when Blitz fails his little "do you love me" test, and Blitz is then dragged through the mud by everyone he's ever scorned for shit that's trivial at worst.

[eternal-love]

PURE

Pairing: Preacher!Austin x Innocent!Reader

Summary: You’ve been having private Bible studies with the preacher. Turns out he wants to teach you other things.

Warning: religion, smut, smut, smut, corruption kink, reader is real innocent.

Note: I wanted to write something about Austin being a preacher, idk why. But yeah, not my favorite piece but I liked it.

Men will always be tempted. Temptation lies within the women’s body. They were sin personified. Ever since Eve ate the forbidden fruit. That’s why you started having private sessions with Father Austin, to keep yourself from sinning.

You, like a good girl, never missed one. Always with your Bible, your cute little shoes, knee high socks. You sat on his couch as he read Bible verses to you.

He always stared at you. How your skirt rode up, the way your hands held the Bible, your beautiful lips and nose. All of you seemed so pure and untouched. He wanted to see whatever you hid under those skirts, whatever you hid under your blouse.

You didn’t even know how you ended up on your knees, in between the preacher’s legs, as your hand stroked his thigh up and down.

“Girls should be as devoted as you are.” He spoke softly, running his hand through your hair, your silky and beautiful hair. “God has given you a beautiful body, do not let it be ruined by a bad man.”

He gripped your hair, tugging it harshly, making you whimper. The minute he saw you on his couch, your hands holding and flipping through the Bible. Your knee socks, he knew he had to have you. He would teach you everything.

“You suck, with no teeth.” He said, lowering your head towards his throbbing cock.

You had never done this before, you doubted that you’d be able to fit it all, it was too big. But you were already here, and you were always taught to listen to whatever the Father said.

You decided to do what your instinct told you, so you started by giving the tip kitten licks, it was the first time, it didn’t taste like anything.

He started moaning, not really loud but the sounds he let out confirmed that he was indeed enjoying whatever you were giving him. But he grew tired of your shy licks.

“Whole.” He said as he yanked your hair back, you groaned but reluctantly nodded, as he guided you again.

He didn’t even give you time before stuffing your face with his hard cock, making him moan thanks to the warm was your mouth provided.

He wasn’t gentle at all, not at all. As he face-fucked you relentlessly. Not so holy after all. He was a moaning mess.

“That’s it.” He guided your head with his hand, going as deep as he could, you really couldn’t see a thing, your eyes were filled with tears as you gagged, your hands gripped his thighs.

The whole scene was obscene, no one could say otherwise. The sounds you both made could be qualified for a porno movie.

He pulled your head away from his spit covered cock. This was just the beginning and you already felt dizzy. You felt as if he had face-fucked you til dumb, or maybe it was the lack of air.

He manhandled you, placed you upon the couch on all fours.

“I’m going to ruin you for everyone. For God Himself too…” He whispered to you.

“Father, I’ve never done this-“ He interrupted you immediately.

“Shh, I’ll teach you. This is why you’re here. You were meant for me. This is the way God intended things to turn out like.”

He said, he just knew he would fuck you until dumb. Until you didn’t feel your legs anymore, or until you were dripping from his cum.

He didn’t even warn you, he thrusted into you relentlessly, fucking you from behind. His hips slamming you, you were moaning, like a bitch.

“Look at you, so pretty f’me…” Austin moaned, he yanked your hair once more.

“F-father, I-I…” You moaned, the word Father, a word often used out of respect and dignity towards the preacher now felt dirty on your lips.

“This pussy was just made for me and no one else. Just for me to take.” He grunted, he didn’t even let you get used to his size or force.

So it hurt, tears streamed down your face as he pounded into you. Yanking your hair from time to time.

“Such a good girl. Always at service for God, and for me.”

He kept fucking you, his thrusts making you moan in pleasure and’s pain, not really knowing what to do.

“You should have my babies. Would you like that? Huh? All ruined for everyone else.”

He saw you crying and immediately though that of the weeping Virgin Mary, a beautiful crier, one whose tears were innocent and pure.

You had been told countless of times that if you lost your virginity before marriage, you were sinning. But you were doing it with the holy father, a person of such high value in your eyes, in everybody’s eyes. Indeed, he was taking your innocence relentlessly but he was doing it because God told him to. Because you were special. Because you were the one.

What a stupid girl you were.

“Such a whore for me.” He grunted, he himself couldn’t believe he had the whitest lamb at his mercy right now.

You started to feel this know on your stomach, a knot that was urging you to be untied. Something you had never experienced before. You closed your eyes tightly, and that’s when the release came.

You let out a whiny and loud moan, noticing him that you had finished. You felt as if you could breath again. Your breaths were ragged but you kept grunting, as the man behind you kept thrusting into you with all his force.

“Father, p-p-please…” you whimpered, you were getting overstimulated, you wanted him to stop all at once. You just weren’t used to it.

“Just a few more-“ he kept going, his cock going deep into you, you felt it bulge on your lover abdomen. “I’m gonna~”

And the man finished inside of you, deeply, enforcing the fact that he had ruined you as he pulled out and his cum was dripping out of you.

The preacher laid down by your side, wrapping his arms around you as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“You were so good, so, so, so good.” He whispered softly.

“Really?” You asked, your eyes wide open like a deer. So innocent still. Even after being railed by him like an animal.

“Yes. I knew you were a good girl.” He smiled once again. “And good girls listen to their mentors.”

You were given a pill by him, he told you to drink it in front of him.

“This will prevent accidents we do not want.” He said. You didn’t know it was a morning-after pill, so you took it.

You though that this could be the start of something beautiful. After all, preachers were allowed to marry unlike priests, so you genuinely believed that he had ruined you because he wanted you all for himself and no one else.

You went home that day, your body aching but blushing from the encounter. You knew that this was the start of something.

You were at church, listening to Father Austin preaching, looking as handsome as ever with his button up, freshly pressed, his long hands holding a mic, his long legs on slacks, his blond hair and blue eyes shining thanks to the light.

He started preaching about purity, but you had heard this speech before. He had given it days before taking your innocence, when he started buttering you up.

You started to tie the pieces together, specially when you smiled at him and he didn’t smile back. Which was weird, he always smiled back at you no matter what. But once you followed his gaze, you noticed that he was already eyeing up another young girl from church.

“My young ladies, keep your chastity as a gift for your future husband. You shall save yourself under the eyes of God, the holy father. Do not give into any temptation as Eve once gave into Satan. You shall remain pure.”

He said, as he eyed up the girl, Alyssa, from the pew. In the same way he once eyed you. The girl was the same as you were before you started the Bible studies with him. Long and pretty pink dress, a total innocent lamb.

You tried not to think much of it, maybe it was just a coincidence. But then, after the mass ended and you were about to leave, you decided to spy on Father Austin, you pretended to go to the bathroom but you spied on the corridor that left to his office.

There, you saw him, devouring the young girl against the wall, the man didn’t even wait to be inside his office when his hand was already squeezing the Alyssa’s tits. He then pulled her into his office and shot the door, you tried to believe that they weren’t doing anything more than just talking, but as you pressed your ear against the door, you heard the same sound you and the preacher had done the past week.

You weren’t special. No, you were just another girl he had corrupted. You had sinned. You sinned because of him. You felt like crying, you had disappointed God, your family, yourself. All because you couldn’t have more strength against the lust and desire of your own body.

What would your future husband think when he finds out you lost your cutie to some random preacher?

Your biggest sin was destroying yourself for nothing.

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding Ch. 04 | The Proposal

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

.

.

.

Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 (coming soon)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

“Ah Megumi what a great surprise, it’s been a while since Satoru has dragged you out here” geto jokes, pulling Megumi into a tight hug leaving a pat on his back.

“Yeah unfortunately”

“Hey! I know you love spending time with your older brother!” Satoru pouts while trying to reference himself in which Megumi responds in a disgusted huff,

“He already agreed to come here, no need to torture him too much, Satoru” Suguru closes the door behind you guys finding his way to glide his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You try and ignore it as you walk into the living room, Suguru guiding you to the kitchen where he has food prepared for laters dinner, which makes you eye ball the delicious food being teased in your face.

Megumi pulls Satoru the side with a small, “We’ve got to talk.” leaving Satoru confused as he follows behind him.

“What’s this all about?” he asks in confusion as they are both now pulled aside.

“I know” He pauses trying to find the words, “I know that you’re the father of the child she’s carrying” He raises his voice a little.

“I figured that much considering you didn’t talk to me nor her for nearly 2 months, I understand you may not like me but it has nothing to do with her” He says, his voice becoming more calm compared to the hyper playful voice he usually kept around Megumi.

“What the hell were you thinking? Knocking her up like that? She deserves better than you, you know you can’t commit to her and give her what she deserves so why the hell would you do it, why?” his voice struggled to stay consistent feeling emotions trying to tear their way out of his throat.

Why was he so upset about this? Why did he care so much who you were with? Why the hell couldn’t he control his emotions.

And it was almost as if Satoru reads his thoughts because his face falls with a new look of realization, he stutters for a moment, “Wait..this isn’t about me, is it? you like her, Megumi…Oh.” He says looking down in guilt.

He cared about you. He cared about Suguru. But Megumi…he took care of Megumi the best way he could as a teenager, seeing the look on Megumi’s face truly made him realize the damage he had inflicted on him.

He would have never done it if he knew Megumi had still loved her.

“This isn’t about me. This is about her and I understand what’s done is done but promise me that you won’t leave her alone with this, promise me you won’t hurt her or fuck around like you do with everything else.” His heart feels heavy, he can’t even keep eye contact.

“Listen…I know i don’t have a good history with relationships and that stuff but I do care about y/n. I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize her happiness, trust me on that.”

Megumi takes a few seconds to process it before slowly nodding, “I think we should head back inside.” He says before walking past him.

MEANWHILE IN THE KITCHEN WITH Y/N & SUGURU:

“So…” You start,

“So!” He says cheerfully, putting his elbows down on the counter in front of you, with an interested expression on his face.

“I actually have a question…it’s about Satoru’s parents.” You say nervously hoping he would give you any tips or warnings on what to expect.

“Well, they’re great people as one would say while talking about one of the most popular and rich families in Tokyo but honestly…They can be a little rough on Satoru, and I wouldn’t take anything they say to heart, They seemed to have had an effect on Satoru’s last girlfriend.” He trails off suddenly not wanting to talk about it at the mention of his last girlfriend.

“What happened to his last girlfriend…?” You didn’t want to push any boundaries but you couldn’t help but feel curious on the sudden change of mood at the mention of her.

“Uh…Well-“ He’s cut off before hearing a rowdy Satoru enter the room excitedly, placing a hand beside you.

“Heyyy so what are we talking about!”

“Oh we were just talking about-“ You are about to say before getting cut off by Suguru, “Oh it’s nothing Satoru, just talking about your parents.” He says.

Satoru looks at you looking for any concern before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Oh don’t worry, they aren’t that bad, just ignore most of what they say and you’ll hold up just fineee” He trails off his words playfully as he picks at the food in front of him, earning a slap on the hand from Suguru causing a wince from him

‘ Knock Knock ‘

A knock that seemed to make the room go dead silent, as if everyone went still knowing who was at the other end of the door, making your nerves rise as your hand begins to shake a little.

Satoru notices this and gives you a pat on the head, “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine.” He says before opening the door, on the other side stood his parents.

His mother, a woman who aged beautifully, long white hair down to her back waved carelessly in the wind outside and his father, who Satoru must take from, being a spitting image of each other, only his fathers face much older and less peaceful, his father held a serious blunt expression. Making you feel intimidated.

You can see where Satoru gets his good looks from, his parents were both jaw dropping.

His mother walks in as Suguru gives her a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek, “You look not a day over twenty, Ms. Gojo, you amaze me.” He compliments her, causing her to chuckle as she walked towards Megumi in which she asked how the boy was doing.

“How are things Megumi? You know you always have that offer if you’d like to get out of that small apartment of yours.” She says, causing Megumi starting to fail hiding his expressions,

“I think i’m fine with where i’m at, thanks.” He says wanting to move on from the conversation.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s father gave out handshakes to the men, greeting them firmly, almost business like.

Once they had both got to you, they paused. You felt unaware of what to do in the moment, wanting to play it safe, you start up words, “Hello, I’m-“ before being interrupted by Satoru.

“This is my girlfriend Y/n, I thought you should meet her.” He says, making you furrow your eyebrows at him almost offended at the thought of being his girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? You never mentioned a girlfriend before or the times we’ve talked on the phone?” His mother questions suspicious as his father gives you a look of judgement. Suddenly you felt conscious of how you looked and appeared.

“Ah well yes it’s a little new.” He says trying to play it off. You wait for him to mention the part where you are pregnant with his child, yet it never seems to come. Did he really not tell his parents yet?

“Ah well uhm okay, it’s nice to meet you uh, y/n was it?” His mother asks giving you a fake smile as her and her husband shared a look or perhaps, the look.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both Mr. and Mrs. Gojo!” You say trying to give them a friendly smile in which they choose to ignore your presence.

“Well then, i smell food and you know how much I miss Suguru’s cooking, I assume we shall eat now” She says clapping her hands as everyone followed along, Satoru’s father still glaring at you.

At the table, small talk was made about how Satoru’s career was going along with Suguru in which received positive feedback in which everything felt okay until the conversation was brought up about Megumi and the past.

“Oh i remember how skinny and fragile he was, jesus the kid was living in such poverty, thank god his father passed or else he would’ve been stuck eating scraps if it weren’t for Satoru.” She says laughing as she sipped her wine.

The talk of losing his father and how he grew up seemed to cause Megumi to go quiet.

The attention seemed to now be turned towards you as Mr. Gojo finally speaks up for the first time since they’ve sat down, “So y/n, I assume you don’t come from money, correct?” He asks bluntly, taking his fork to carve his meat.

You feel yourself start to become uncomfortable which doesn’t go unnoticed but you decide to answer, “Uh well no i suppose i don’t.” You say looking down at your plate, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“I’m going to be blunt about this, what is it that you’re using my son for? sex? money? or perhaps do you think satoru will raise your status so you could become a surgeon?” He asks crossing his hands over each other.

“Father-“ Satoru starts before his father puts his hand up as a sign for Satoru not to speak,

“Let her speak.” He says and the room became quiet.

You felt offended by what his father was saying. As if money, sex or a title at work would make you want to deal with Satoru on a daily basis. But what boiled your blood more than that was the fact he was asking this only because you didn’t grow up rich.

“None of the Above.” You state, the boil in your blood causing a sudden rise of confidence.

“Oh no need to be humble darling. Just tell me what you want from him or our family and you can get it now rather than distracting my son.” He says leaning back in his seat.

“I am telling the honest truth, I don’t want his money or his-“ You get cut off by Satoru. “Okay dad I think that’s enough interrogating, He’s just joking-“ Satoru says trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m asking an honest question and I would like it if you’d stop interrupting her, Satoru.” He says, almost as a warning as you see Satoru’s change in emotion at the mention of his father saying his name.

“Listen, I don’t want shit to do with your money or using Satoru as anything, Id appreciate it if you stopped accusing me of this bullfuckery” You blurt letting your hormones getting the best of you…or perhaps your temper.

“Tell your whore to watch her mouth.” His mother commented causing your blood to boil as you got up from your chair, Satoru rushing to hold you back, “The fuck did you just say?” You said heated.

In the corner of your eye you can see Megumi with a surprised yet slightly amused expression at the sight of someone standing up towards the Gojo’s.

“I think we should all just calm down, okay?” He says looking at everyone.

“Get your whore a leash and a muzzle while you’re at it. How dare you let her speak to your mother that way!” Satoru’s mom says sipping her glass on wine carelessly.

“Oh i can say a lot worst-“ You say before satoru pulls you back cautiously so he won’t hurt you standing between you and his mother.

“I demand you to leave this woman at once.”

“I can’t do that mother.” He says trying to avoid eye contact.

“Oh sure you can, you can do much better than this whore with a mouth on her!” His mother starts to raise her voice.

“You don’t understand mother, I am not leaving y/n and that is final.” He says and his mother grows furious.

“Oh enlighten me! what’s so special about this woman, because you two haven’t interacted with each other all night so don’t bullshit me that you two are in love.” She yells.

“I- I-“ He stutters wondering if he should just say it. He looks at you looking at how furious and offended you were and the disappointed look on Suguru’s face across the table. “y/n is pregnant.” He says.

His mother seems to not understand as she goes on, “So? You don’t need to take on charity cases-“ She gets interrupted by Satoru who blurts out, “No mother, the baby is mine. I got her pregnant!”

His father’s eyes widen before him and Mrs. Gojo look at each other, them both deciding to stand up.

“Satoru. A word. Now.” His father demands as he walks out of the room, his mother trailing behind him as Satoru looks worried down at you before following his parents.

From the dining table you could hear the faint sounds of yelling and arguing coming from Satoru’s office causing a sudden guilt to fill your stomach, this all felt like so much. You needed fresh air.

You walked out of the room going outside to the snow as you lay on the ground, slowly making a snow angel. Something so childish yet comforting in the moment. You couldn’t quite figure out what about this action made you feel so warm yet you were in the cold.

“I can go-“ Suguru says before trying to follow after you outside before Megumi Interrupts, “I’ve got this one, thanks” He says as Suguru respects that as he begins to clean up the table.

You hear the door close in which you see moments later a familiar black haired man in front of you, hands in his pockets before settling down on the ground next to you, laying still compared to you who was making motions in order to make a snow angel.

“I have a question for you.”

“What?” You asked confused as Megumi isn’t typically the type to ask questions so suddenly.

“Are you happy?” He asks concerned, looking at you in the corner of his eye.

“I mean considering what just happened moments ago, i wouldn’t exactly say i’m too-“

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” He says firmly. You sigh, “Yeah, I know.”

You take a few moments to let the silence take up space as you think about his question.

“I don’t think it matters if I am”

“I think it does, you should be able to choose what life you want to live.”

“I have to do what’s best for this baby, if i chose how to live based on my emotions, I wouldn’t be having this baby. Don’t you think i’m scared? Scared of being a mother, scared of being something that i’m not even familiar with.” You say, a tear breaking its way out of your eye causing you to sniffle a little.

Megumi seems to understand now, “I understand. But just give me the word and i promise i will pick you up from this dump and you can leave it all behind” He says, casually calling Satoru’s million dollar mansion a dump, causing a small choked up laugh to come out of you making a small smile appear on megumi’s lips.

Surprisingly, Megumi’s hand find its way to yours. An act of comfort.

Megumi is suddenly filled with the slight hint of nostalgia having an old feeling hit him hard, making him remember.

MEGUMI POV SWITCH: 7 YEARS AGO

‘ knock knock ‘

he hears the frantic knocking coming from the door, knowing exactly who it was. he opened the door expecting to see her but there was no one there.

he walked out expecting you to have forgot something from your car or for you to be hiding yet no sign before suddenly being hit by a snowball right in the chest, his gaze turned towards y/n, his next door neighbor and best friend.

“gotcha!” he watched her laugh as she ran away as he walked behind her, her keeping a slow enough pace for him to see where she was going yet not slow enough for him to catch up.

she finally stopped in her tracks, tumbling down on the floor with a ‘thump. her body motioned back and forth attempting to create a snow angel as she laughed.

he would watch in awe before she grabbed a hand out to him encouraging him to join her, in which he didn’t refuse.

“cmon!” she dragged him down in a hurry, “okay okay” he says falling down on the floor next to her as the sound of her giggles filled the air, him listening silently.

she turned to look at him, in which she she smiled up at him as he laid down next to her,

“hey”

“hi”

a few words could be spoken between you two yet he always felt so comfortable and used to your company.

“I don’t ever want to grow up” she suddenly admitted.

“why?” he asked suddenly curious of her unfamiliar change of mood and speech.

“because then you’ll be all grown and won’t want to hang out with me” she said jokingly yet her eyes seemed to express an almost worried expression. was she worried he would forget about her?

“you don’t have to worry about that.” he stated.

“why not?” her gaze suddenly turning towards him, the simple act of looking at him so innocently suddenly made his heart heavy,

“you can stay with me however long you’d like.” he says reverting his eyes fully towards her , looking at her straight in the eyes.

a moment that felt like forever passed before the sudden feeling of her lips were felt against his. he takes a few moments to process it before cupping her face gently pulling her into the kiss.

it wasn’t long before the heat between the two teenagers got heated, them both now retreated to the treehouse they built as kids that was near their previous snow angel spot, him now on top of her.

as they kissed he felt the warmth of her clothed cunt grinding against his knee that laid comfortably between her legs. he watches with a shaky breath before breaking the kiss.

“what’s wrong?” she asked trying to catch her break

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asked showing concern for any discomfort or second thoughts she might have.

“i’m sure megumi. I want my first time to be with you.” she said bringing a warm hand up to his cold cheek.

his hand travels down to your thigh as his breath hitches. he takes off his big jacket and puts it beneath her on the floor to make things more comfortable for you.

she began to strip in front of him, his gaze never leaving her eyes before she finally finish, allowing him to avert his eyes down her body, thinking that if perfection was anyone, it would be her.

he trailed soft loving kisses down your body, admiring and touching you like you were art, a beauty that should be praised and admired.

he felt that in that moment, nothing else had mattered. it was only you and him.

afterwards you two were left next to each other comfortably as he held you in his arms, an act he dreamed of doing for the longest.

“what you were saying earlier, i wanted to tell you that you don’t have to worry about me forgetting you because i will spend the rest of my life by your side.” he said feeling confident in finally exposing his true feelings towards you.

you took a few moments before you gave him a soft smile, “thank you megumi, i couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

friend

friend?

friend.

his heart dropped, he felt as if it had been stomped on. after taking her virginity just moments ago, after spending years by your side, as you laughed, cried, sobbed, smiled, it felt like a brick was just brought down on his heart.

THE PRESENT:

Megumi is brought back to the present after reliving the memory in his head. he’s now aware of his surroundings, wondering how he could be so close to you, holding hands with someone would be considered such an intimate act yet he felt so far away from you. As if he could never, would never break that infinite barrier that separates the two of you. A world he could see but never enter. A wet painting he could see but never touch.

he’s interrupted by Suguru who suddenly walks outside causing you both to separate hands.

“They’re done talking and asking for you, id ask that you come inside if you will” He says in the calm voice he always kept.

When you both make your way inside and the mood has changed drastically, the air felt heavy as you now saw Satoru sitting silently across the table looking down, not saying a word nor acknowledging your presence at all.

“We have came to an arrangement in which you have two options.” Mr. Gojo speaks once again,

“As you know the Gojo is a class name and our reputation to the public is very important, it helps us keep our status and remain a good name. See now having the newspaper say ‘Gojo Clans’ and Tokyo’s beloved top neurosurgeon Satoru Gojo knocks up young intern’ doesn’t exactly hold up a good reputation, but ‘Satoru Gojo’s new fiancé seemed to have been getting quite busy with a baby on the way’ seems very more delightful.” He says making your eyes widen in shock of his words, he didn’t seriously think you would agree to marry Satoru, did he?

“and the other?” You ask considering your options.

“The other option is that you can get an abortion and we will pay you 5 million up front to keep your mouth shut and disappear from Satoru’s life, it will all be on the low.”

You felt trapped, abortion wasn’t an option. You chose to have this baby and you want to stick with that choice. Yet marrying Satoru felt like a nightmare, you never even considered marriage let alone with Satoru.

Before you could find the words to speak you hear Suguru speak up, “Listen Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you guys are respectable people and I wouldn’t go against your beliefs but-“ He states before being interrupted by Satoru’s mother.

“So then don’t.” She bluntly says, glaring at him.

He stops for a moment before starting up again, “I believe this is a decision she needs to make on her own and is something her and Satoru should talk over, they are both young and no offense but times are different now and i don’t believe marriage is necessary as Ms. Y/n is only 2 months in her term, a lot can happen from now to then.” he waited for a response,

“Suguru Geto, you’re parents would agree with this just as much and you know that. This simply will be for business, If some skank decided to get my son into this situation then she should learn the consequences” Satoru’s fathed spoke.

Suguru takes a few moments trying to collect himself the best he can, you began to become nervous not knowing how to answer mumbling a bit trying to stutter out an answer before Suguru interrupts you,

“Don’t worry about it y/n, I believe their stay here has been extended, I would kindly ask you two to leave” He says getting up to get ready to greet them out as the Gojo’s agree, leading themselves out before his father stops.

He places a hand on Satoru’s shoulder trying to say goodbye in his own way before Satoru pulled away from his hand.

“Don’t act out son. You’re lucky we aren’t doing to her what we did to your last girlfriend.” He finishes and makes his way out the door.

Megumi stands silently for a few moments before seeing his way out, waving you a goodbye before heading out. His phone dialing a number waiting for a number to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I need you to pick me up” Megumi speaks from over the phone.

“Sure! is everything alright fushiguro?”

“Yeah…” He stays silent for a few moments thinking, “Actually, are you free tonight?” He asks

“Yeah! why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to get some drinks”

“Sure! Should i invite everyone?”

“I think i’d like it if it were just me and you.” Megumi says suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Okay if you say so!”

“Okay, i’ll see you then…thanks itadori.” He says before hanging up.

-

Satoru and you sat in silence for a few minutes, crossing your arms waiting for a response out of him. After a while you realize he just wasn’t gonna say anything so you finally speak, letting anger take over you,

“What the fuck, Satoru.”

He looks up at you but doesn’t respond, he just stares emotionless at you.

“Don’t just sit there! Say something! you couldn’t even say anything while they were sitting there calling me a skank and whore all night, so please enlighten me with your fucking words.” You feel tears trying to make their way out of your eyes but you wont let them.

He pauses before looking back down at his lap, “Are you sure you want to keep our baby”

You huff in disbelief of his words, there’s no way he could seriously be considering that.

“What, are you having second thoughts? having second thoughts now at the thought of marrying me? You aren’t scared of becoming a father but you’re scared of the thought of marrying me, god fuck satoru!” You shouted at him feelings tears fall down your face.

He doesn’t say anything before excusing himself from the table as he walked into his office, locking the door behind him.

Suguru walks in to you with your hands on your knees as you quietly sobbed on the floor, he rushes towards you pulling his arms over you in a hug as tears spilled even more.

You look up at him with teary eyes as he cups your face gently pulling you into him. You try to form words but they don’t come out and Suguru notices this as he spoke gentle words, “It’s okay, I know.” His words came out softly against your ear as he held you.

Your gaze turns towards him, looking up at him as you stare at each other for what felt like forever before you did the unspeakable.

You kissed him.

You hadn’t known why you did so, in the moment it felt so right. And with that, he returned it, he kissed you back passionately before the maid walked in, her stepping back trying to pretend she didn’t see anything before Suguru pulls away.

“Let’s take you to bed, a lot has happened today. I think we all need rest tonight.” He says helping you up offering you a kind smile as he helped you walk to your room.

He leads you to your room before letting you enter yourself before wishing you goodnight as he looked away.

The kiss you shared just before had felt so right yet somehow now things felt so awkward as you laid in bed silently as you thought over the fact that you kissed Suguru in the middle of a breakdown which now made you feel a bit embarrassed.

You began to shut your eyes, choosing not to dwell on it too much as you already had a long night deciding to try and get rest.

Or atleast you try to do before you hear the door open, you figure it may be the maid who forgot something in your room as it’s happened before, an honest mistake so you carry on with your sleep, keeping your eyes shut.

That is until you hear someone sit on the bed next to you placing a hand on your hair, brushing it gently. You don’t dare to make a sound or look who it is, you figured it may have still been the maid checking on you.

A careful arm hugs over your body barely before hearing a whisper “I’m sorry.” the familiar voice of Satoru Gojo fills your ears as you still pretend to be asleep. He presses a soft kiss to your stomach before leaving the room.

The room suddenly felt empty, cold. The interaction was so short, so little yet you found yourself missing the warmth of his hand against your stomach.

.

.

.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

A/N. this chapter has by far been my favorite one i��ve written, and the fastest yet longest one i’ve written so far. (I spent my whole thanksgiving righting this up LMAO, who needs to cook a turkey when I can cook up a new SGW chapter!!) I already had an idea for this chapter knowing that i wanted this to be the chapter where reader meets Satoru’s parents and their marriage would be arranged but I changed a lot of things and I honestly like how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy and Reblogs and Asks are appreciated! happy holidays luvs <3

let me know if you guys would like to be added to the tag list for ‘Shotgun Wedding’ updates!

tags: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria @baileebear

[emjayewrites]

spin bout u • aurélien tchouaméni request

REQUEST: from @whoevenisthiz — I was wondering if could write me an Aurèlien fic with a bit of a toxic vibe? Like, not an established couple, but more of an intense, messy push-and-pull dynamic—kind of raunchy too, coz you know how I am 😏. I’m not too picky about how it ends; I just think it’d be really cool to see your take on something like this! Thank you in advance Emjay xxx

WARNINGS: toxic!aurelien, cursing, smut. 18+/minors dni

TAGLIST: @trenterprise, @sucredreamer, @pepfectionary, @irishmanwhore, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @perfecttrashface, @deonn-jaelle, @f1-football-fiend, @julescpu, @peyiswriting, @2serenity0, @greedyjudge2, @queenshikongo3

A/N: Send requests!

The winter air bit at Remy's cheeks as she turned the corner to her apartment building, her boots crunching on the salt-covered sidewalk. Atlanta's usual humidity had given way to an unusual cold snap, the kind that made her miss the warmth of summer. She spotted the sleek black car first, its glossy paint reflecting the glow of the streetlights. Then her eyes fell on him—leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, wearing a thick gray Nike sweatsuit with a hood pulled up over his head.

Aurélien.

He looked every bit like trouble, his sweatsuit hung off his frame just right, his sneakers impossibly clean against the slush. He was doing that thing he always did—biting his bottom lip as his gaze flicked up and down her body with deliberate slowness, like he was daring her to react.

Remy stopped dead in her tracks, her grip tightening on her bag, believing him to be some mirage, but unfortunately he was really there. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Aurélien smirked, pushing off the car with lazy confidence. "Miss me?"

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting an old friend," he said simply, his French accent curling around each word like a velvet ribbon, thicker than she remembered. She scoffed at his response. "Ah, but we were never really friends, were we?"

"We weren't really anything," she shot back, even as her heart betrayed her with an irritating flutter.

"That's not how I remember it." His eyes glinted with something unreadable in the streetlight.

"Your memory's selective then." She started walking toward her building's entrance. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a match or something?"

"Postponed." He fell into step beside her, matching her pace easily. "Figured I'd check in on you."

"Check in?" She barked a laugh. "You mean spin the block?"

His smirk widened as he sucked his teeth. "Call it what you want. You gonna let me in, or are we doing this out here?"

"I haven't decided yet," she shot back, even as her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer. "You could have texted first."

"I did. You didn't answer."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe that was a hint."

Aurélien straightened up, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a small step closer. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp winter air made her head spin slightly.

"Or maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower, "you were waiting for me to prove I still give a damn."

"You're so full of yourself," she muttered, but there was less bite in her tone than she intended.

"And yet, here we are." His eyes softened just enough to make her defenses waver. "Can we go inside? It's cold as fuck out here."

She stared at him for a long moment, debating whether to leave him standing there or give in to whatever this was. Her pride told her to walk away, but curiosity—and something else she wasn't ready to name—won out.

The tension in her apartment was thick as she dropped her designer bag on the counter and kicked off her boots. Aurélien stood by the door, his hands still in his pockets, trying to play it cool but his eyes following her every move.

"You didn't have to come all this way," she said, keeping her tone casual as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Didn't I?"

"It's been months, Aurélien." She took a long sip of water, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. "Why now?"

"Maybe I missed you."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Be honest?"

Remy set her water down harder than necessary. "You can't just show up here and say things like that."

"You watch my matches," he said suddenly.

That made her head cock in confusion. "Excuse me?"

His smile was knowing. "Your likes on Twitter show up, you know. Three in the morning your time, watching Madrid games."

"Insomnia," she said flatly. "Your boring-ass matches put me right to sleep." Remy let out an irritated huff. "You should leave."

He moved into her space, not touching but close enough that she could smell his cologne. "If you really wanted me gone, you wouldn't have let me up."

"Maybe I just want to tell you off properly." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "Private event, you know?"

"Maybe," he stepped closer, his eyes darkening, "you missed this too."

"This?" She gestured between them. "What's 'this'? The part where you show up whenever you feel like it and expect me to just fall in line? Or the part where you disappear for months when things get too real?"

Something flickered in his expression – a crack in the smooth façade. "That's not fair."

"Neither is showing up at my apartment in fucking Atlanta when you should be in fucking Madrid." She crossed her arms. "What happened? Your usual rotation got boring?"

"You want to talk about running?" His voice dropped lower, an edge creeping in. "How about those unanswered messages? Those declined calls? The way you acted like what happened between us was nothing?"

"Because it was nothing," she lied through her teeth. "A few weeks of fun. Ancient history."

He laughed, but it wasn't amused. "You're still a terrible liar, Remy."

"And you're still way too convinced of your own importance."

The air between them grew heavier with each passing second. She hated how well he could still read her, how easily he could slip past her carefully constructed walls.

"What do you want from me?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to talk, bébé."

"Talk?" she repeated, incredulous. "You flew across the Atlantic to ‘talk’? Nigga, kindly go to hell."

Instead of backing away like a normal person, Aurélien had the audacity to smile, as per usual. He loved the toxicity between them just as much as she loved when he—

Don’t do that, Remy. Not right now, girl.

"You know that you miss this, mon bébé. Or do I have to remind you? I mean I just came here to talk but if you want…"

"I thought we were done with this," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Do you really believe that?" His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I don’t."

She searched his face for any sign of the old Aurélien—the one who kept everything surface-level, who never let anyone too close. Instead, she found something new: hope, mixed with a touch of fear that matched her own.

Her breath hitched, and before she could overthink it, she grabbed the front of his sweatshirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

The rest of their conversation dissolved into heat and frustration and the kind of chemistry that always seemed to burn too hot.

Aurélien’s hands roamed her body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every dip. He backed her up against the counter, his lips moving to her neck as her fingers tugged at his sweatshirt.

"Remy," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with want.

"Don’t think this means anything," she said, her nails dragging down his chest as she arched into him. "It just been awhile."

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, his eyes dark and teasing. "Keep telling yourself that."

She shoved him, but he only laughed, his hands gripping her waist as he lifted her onto the counter.

"Aurélien—"

"Say my name again," he interrupted, his lips brushing hers before trailing lower.

"Don’t push your luck," she shot back, though her voice wavered.

He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing he needed in that moment, was almost too much. And Remy knew that by the night’s end, he will have her screaming his name multiple times.

When he finally slid his hands under her thighs, pulling her closer with a possessive grip, all she could do was hold on tight and hope she didn’t regret this later.

Remy’s hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking it over his head with an impatient huff. "Why do you always wear so many damn layers?" she muttered, her fingers already working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Maybe I like making you work for it," he quipped, biting his bottom lip as she shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his abs and the curve of his erection straining against his boxers.

She didn’t dignify him with a response, instead pulling her own top over her head and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately dropped to her chest, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"You got a new tattoo?" he asked, his voice dropping a notch as his fingers brushed the delicate ink just below her collarbone—a minimalist design of a crescent moon intertwined with flowers.

"Noticed that, huh?" she said, her voice light, but her breath hitched as his lips replaced his fingers, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss over the tattoo.

"You always did like pretty things," he murmured, his tongue tracing the curve of the ink. "Guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

His hands slid down to her waist, gripping the waistband of her leggings. With one swift motion, he tugged them down, leaving her bare except for a pair of black lace panties. He let out a low hum of approval as his hands trailed along her thighs, his thumbs brushing the soft skin.

When he dropped to his knees, Remy’s breath caught. Aurélien’s eyes locked onto hers, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "I missed this," he said, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Missed the way you taste."

"Then stop talking and do something about it," she shot back, her voice more breathless than she’d like.

He chuckled, low and rough, before pulling her panties down with deliberate slowness. The cool air hit her skin just as his warm breath followed, and then his tongue was on her, licking a long, slow stripe up her center.

Remy’s hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling in the curls as he worked her with maddening precision. His tongue teased and explored, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her arching her back and moaning his name.

"Aurélien—oh, my god."

"Say it again," he murmured against her, his voice vibrating against her most sensitive spot.

She did, over and over, her voice trembling as he pushed her closer to the edge. But just as the tension coiled tight enough to snap, he pulled back, leaving her gasping in frustration.

"What the hell—"

"Where do you want me to fuck you?" he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding.

Her mind scrambled to keep up, her body still throbbing from the near-release. "The couch," she managed, her voice breathless.

He grinned, standing and pulling her with him. "Good choice."

Aurélien led her to the couch, his hands firm on her hips as he bent her over the armrest. His lips found her spine, trailing kisses down her back until he reached her ass. He spread her open with his hands, groaning softly.

"Fuck, Remy," he muttered, his voice tinged with reverence and hunger. He spat on her, the slick sound followed by the warmth of his tongue as he devoured her from behind.

Remy moaned, her fingers digging into the couch cushions as he worked her over, his grip on her hips bruising. "You’re such an asshole," she gasped, her words dissolving into a whimper as he sucked on her clit.

"And you’re still letting me eat your pussy," he shot back, his voice muffled.

She didn’t have a response, not when his tongue was doing sinful things that made her toes curl. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he pulled back again, his hands sliding down her thighs.

"You miss me, don’t you?" he asked, his tone mocking but with an edge of sincerity.

"No," she said, though the breathiness of her voice made it sound more like a lie.

"You do," he said, pressing the tip of his dick against her folds. He teased her entrance, tapping the head against her clit before sliding it through her slickness. "You missed this. Missed me. Admit it."

She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Fuck you."

"That’s the plan." He pushed into her slowly, filling her inch by inch until her head dropped forward, a soft curse spilling from her lips.

"Aurélien—"

"Yeah," he said, gripping her hips as he started to move. "Say my name, Remy. Let me hear how much you missed me."

Her response was a series of moans, her body meeting his thrusts as he set a punishing rhythm. His fingers dug into her skin, anchoring her in place as he drove into her, his dirty talk pouring out like a confession.

"Feel so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick. "So tight. So wet. Fuck, I’m not letting you go again. You hear me?"

She whimpered, her body arching into him. "You’re so—"

"Say it," he interrupted, slamming into her harder. "Say my name, Remy."

She cried out, her voice trembling as she obeyed, the sound of his name like a prayer on her lips.

His movements grew erratic, his breath hot against her shoulder as he leaned over her, his chest brushing her back. "Where do you want it?" he asked, his voice rough and urgent.

"Inside me," she answered without hesitation.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep, spilling into her with a final, shuddering moan.

Aurélien’s weight settled over her as they caught their breath, their bodies tangled together on her couch. The quiet hum of the city outside seeped through the windows, but neither of them moved, too lost in the afterglow to care about anything else.

Remy trailed her fingers lazily across his shoulder, tracing the faint scars and ridges she’d come to memorize. Her mind was a jumble of satisfaction and irritation—the two emotions he always managed to pull out of her in equal measure.

Aurélien shifted, his lips brushing against her temple as he murmured, "You’re quiet."

"That’s called peace," she said, her tone dry. "Something I had before you decided to drop in uninvited."

He chuckled softly, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip, possessive even now. "You didn’t seem too upset a few minutes ago."

She rolled her eyes, though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Momentary lapse in judgment."

"Is that what we’re calling it?" He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her, his smirk firmly in place.

Remy swatted at his chest, trying not to smile. "Don’t you have a plane to catch or something? A very long one back to Madrid, preferably."

"I’ll be in Atlanta for three more days," he said, his voice taking on that infuriatingly confident tone again.

"Lucky me."

" Very," he said, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. "Saint Bene. Eight tomorrow."

She sighed, tilting her head to glare at him. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

His grin widened, and he leaned down to kiss her once more, slow and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his dark eyes held hers, amusement and sincerity mingling there.

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

Remy groaned as he rolled off the couch and started gathering his clothes. She stayed sprawled where she was, her body still humming from his touch, even as her mind screamed at her to push him away.

When the door clicked shut behind him, she sat up and reached for her phone.

A text came through almost immediately: "Goodnight, ma belle. Sleep well."

Her fingers hesitated over the screen before typing back: "The audacity you have is astronomical. "

His response came just as quickly: "You love it though. Don’t forget to wear something nice."

Remy stared at the phone, letting her head fall back against the couch with a groan. She already knew she was going to dinner tomorrow. Already knew exactly what dress she’d wear.

"Fuck," she muttered into the empty apartment, finally admitting defeat.

That’s how it always was with them—a constant push and pull, a dance on the edge of something they both refused to name.