#nothing about the movie was subtle and at first i was like...but then i got used to it and had fun

[maddy-ferguson]

i took 7 people to see the substance yesterday they were like hm...

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

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[starkeysprincess]

friends with benefits

pairing: bsf!rafe x reader word count: 1.5k warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, unprotected sex, pull-out method (that needs it's own warning tbh), praise, 18+ minors dni a/n: req from nonnie, "please write some bsf!rafe smut, they are like childhood bsf but started becoming friends with benefits as they got older" +i had a vision so this is (kinda) a sequel to dry humping bsf!rafe

main m.list ⟡ taglist

You and Rafe have known each other since you were kids because your parents were friends. Your parents used to talk about how great it would be if they lived next door to each other. One day, an opportunity appeared when the neighbor next door to the Cameron's decided to sell their house. Of course, your parents were quick to jump and make an offer on the house and that's how you landed living next door to Rafe Cameron, your childhood best friend.

You guys constantly hung out, practically glued to the hip. The two of you would often go to parties together and occasionally go for rides on Rafe’s bike, and he was almost over at your house nearly every day. As frequently as the two of you hung out, there was one tradition both of you favored the most. That tradition involves swimming and ending the night with a movie marathon, which you are currently doing.

Merely just a little over a month ago, he helped give you your first orgasm, simply by sitting on his lap and dry-humping him like you were in heat. Ever since that day anytime you needed relief, Rafe was there to help, whether with his fingers or mouth.

You weren’t sure what to label what the two of you had going on, especially when you would attempt to return the favor by either giving him a handjob or sucking him off, to which, he’d turn you down, telling you that he doesn’t want anything in return.

Well, you guess you could label it as friends with benefits, except the only one benefitting from it would be you. At least, that’s what you thought, but the truth is, Rafe was benefitting a lot from it, he loved nothing more than pleasing you, making you feel good till you’re reduced to nothing but a whining mess. 

Both of you were sprawled out on your bed, a random movie playing as his arm was wrapped around your waist, your back flushed against his chest. Throughout the entire day, your pussy has been throbbing, aching for any sort of relief. This caused you to be squirming around, pressing your thighs together, all while huffing from being sexually frustrated. 

Rafe grew accustomed to your body language, specifically when you were horny. Unsurprisingly, he immediately picked up on how you were acting, but, you weren’t exactly subtle with the way you were grinding your ass against him. You can feel the tent in his pants poking against your ass as he lets out a low groan, “Jesus, are you that fuckin’ desperate that you can’t stop squirming around?”.

You mutter under your breath, causing him to reach around, squishing your cheeks as he turns your head to face him, “Either use that pretty mouth of yours or you can keep huffin’ and puffin’, princess”. 

You groan before letting out a small ‘yes’ in response, to which, he snorts, “Yes? Yes what?”. You push your bottom lip out, “Yes, I’m that desperate…I need to cum”. A small smirk appears on his face, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”.

You roll your eyes at his cockiness as he pushes you to lay on your back, hands moving up and down the sides of your waist. His hands move lower to pat your thigh, signaling for you to lift your hips and once you do, he’s tugging at your shorts, tossing them to the side. 

He parts your thighs, spreading them wide before moving to slot himself between them. “Shit, would you look at that? You’re fuckin’ soaked through your panties” he groans to himself, his eyes fixated on the mess that’s pooled in your panties. 

He’s planting kisses along your inner thighs, making his way towards your clothed cunt. Rafe’s fingers found their way to the waistband of your panties, hooking themselves under before sliding them off of you, revealing your glistening folds. “Can never get over how pretty your pussy is” he mutters to himself, leaning forward to lick a strip against your folds. He hooks both of his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer till his face is buried against your slick cunt. 

You can feel him grinning to himself when you let out a squeal as his tongue delves deep inside you. His grip tightens on your thighs, pinning them down, and his tongue eagerly moves in and out of you as you grind your cunt against his mouth. “S-shit, Rafe” you whine, hands tugging at the roots of his hair, earning a groan from him. His tongue moves to flick against your pulsing clit and you moan when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking lightly. 

He unwraps one arm from under your thigh, hand moving between your legs and his thick middle and ring finger prodding at your hole before sliding in, knuckles deep inside of you. His fingers pump in and out of you while his tongue swirls and flicks at your clit. The combination of his fingers and his tongue on you, have you crying out in pleasure, your back arching off the mattress.

You’re grinding against his mouth and fingers, desperately and selfishly needing more than what he’s giving you but it’s not enough. “Fuck, Rafe…please, I need you” you whine, making him pull his mouth off your clit, looking up at you, “You have me, princess”. 

“S’not enough” you whimper, “Need more…I need your cock inside of me. Please, daddy”. Rafe’s cock twitches in his shorts, his eyes darken the second you call him ‘daddy’ and he’s sliding his fingers out of you, sucking his arousal-coated fingers as he moves away from between your legs. He stands up, swiftly pulling his shorts and boxers down, kicking them somewhere before climbing back onto your bed. His lips attach to your neck, sucking bruises into your flesh while his palms push your thighs flat against the mattress, holding them down. 

He pulls away from your neck, admiring the marks starting to form. He wraps his hand around his shaft, teasingly sliding his cock up and down your folds, “Need me stuffed inside of you that bad? Beg for it. Beg for daddy’s cock, princess”. You writhe under him when he repeatedly taps the head of his cock on your clit, causing you to whine and plead. Tears are practically welling in your eyes from how much you need him, your pussy aching for him, and only him. 

“Don’t worry, princess, daddy’s gonna give you exactly what you’re needy for” he coos, you gasp when you feel him sliding his thick cock into you, stretching your cunt the more he sinks inside of you. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight” he grunts, slowly thrusting in and out of you, “Would’ve fucked you sooner if I knew your pussy feels like heaven”.

His large hand snakes up your body to wrap around your throat as he starts fucking you harder. Your hand moves to rest on his hand that’s wrapped around your throat, squeezing it to urge him to tighten his grip on your neck. He squeezes your neck firmly, groaning when your walls flutter around him, encouraging him to snap his hips into yours harder. “Oh fuck…just like that” you mewl and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours, “Doing so good f’me, princess”. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me” he moans into your mouth, “Takin’ me so well like I knew you would”. His free hand grabs at your thigh, hooking it around his waist, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper angle. He breaks the kiss to watch your face contort in pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut, to which he lightly taps your face, “Keep your eyes on me. Show daddy who’s makin’ you feel good, yeah?”.

You wrap your other leg around his waist, making him thrust into you deeper than before. “Y-yes daddy” you can’t help but whine, the tip of his cock repetitively hitting your sweet spot. He releases his hold on your neck, slipping his hand between the two of you, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing steady circles. Your hands wrap around him, nails scraping against his muscular back. You’re a whimpering mess, eyes glued to his and he can see the fucked-out expression on your face as you struggle to keep your eyes on him. 

His thumb circles your clit faster and he quickens his thrusts, his hips snapping against yours harshly as he feels you clamping down on him, signaling that you’re close. “Gonna cum f’me, princess?” he growls, “C’mon, let me know how good I’m fuckin’ you, cream all over daddy’s cock”. 

Your legs tremble as they tighten around his waist, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, crying out his name as you throw your head back against the plush pillows. Your orgasm triggers his own, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he’s pulling out and you’re quick to wrap your small hand around him, giving his length a few pumps. Grunts and moans leave his mouth as he comes, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach white. 

The two of you are a panting mess and he watches as you use your fingers to swipe and collect some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth. You hold eye contact with him, licking his cum off your fingers, humming at the taste of him. 

“Look so fuckin’ pretty covered in my cum” Rafe groans, “But your pussy would look better filled with it”. 

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @bunnycrush @drudyslut @xxbimbobunnyxx @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @ihe4rttwd @rylie-m @hallecarey1 @slumnit @strawberrydolly333 @chimindity @starkeyisthelastname @rafescurtainbangz @ijustwanttoreadlols @stoned-writer @redhead1180 @eddieslut69 @eternalbuckley @kisses4angel @hyperfixationgirl @emilysuperswag @heartsforvin @sturnioloshacker @flvredcas @rafeinterlude @starkeysheart @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @fae-of-prey @amandabbbbb @rafecameroninterlude @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @spid6y @zyafics @spacexdrago @honeybunniesoobin @juniebugg @espressomunson

[chosok-amo]

YOU ARE GOOD TO ME : RYOMEN SUKUNA

you came to your boyfriend’s apartment without him knowing you just got mistreated by your father, so he asked— no, he told you— you to live with him instead.

warning. non-sorcerer! sukuna, abusive parent, bruise, domestic violence (not by sukuna), slight angst, fluff, comfort.

you feel the burn all over your skin, the heat trapped under your jacket making every step feel heavier. each movement sends sharp stings through your body, but you keep going, your breaths shallow as you focus on reaching the familiar door ahead. the hallway feels longer than usual, each step echoing, your pace slowing as the pain worsens, but you press on, determined.

when you finally reach the door, you take a deep breath, gathering enough strength to gently knock, the sound soft against the quiet. moments later, the door creaks open, and you're met with the sight of ryomen sukuna, your boyfriend. his face, as usual, holds that natural, intimidating look, sharp and deadly with his tattoos lining his skin. the sight of him alone sends a wave of comfort through you, momentarily distracting you from the pain.

but even though his appearance would terrify anyone else, you know better. you see the subtle shift in his expression, the way his red eyes soften just the slightest bit, and the tension in his muscles loosens as soon as he sees you standing there.

“baby,” you greet him softly, managing a smile despite the burn gnawing at you. stepping forward, you move into his arms, the warmth of his body immediately easing some of the discomfort. his presence alone feels like a balm to your pain as you bury yourself into him, inhaling his familiar scent.

he doesn’t say anything at first, but his arms instinctively wrap around you, his hands surprisingly gentle despite his intimidating strength.

a wave of relief washed over sukuna as you fell into his arms, his usual stoic demeanor quickly faltering in your presence. his grip on you was tight, possessive, yet careful not to hurt you, fingers tracing slow, gentle circles on your back. his red eyes scanned your face, taking in the exhaustion that seemed to cling to you like a shadow.

“you look exhausted,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. though his words were blunt, there was a softness there, a hidden concern that only you ever got to see. “what happened?” his hands never stopped their slow, soothing movement against your back, his touch a perfect blend of tenderness and protection, a side of him he reserved solely for you.

you looked up at him, a small chuckle escaping your lips despite the pain still pulsing beneath your skin. “what do you mean?” you teased, your voice light and playful as you leaned back a little to meet his gaze. “nothing happened. i just missed my boyfriend.”

sukuna’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, you gently pulled away from his hold, offering him a sly smile. you walked deeper into his apartment, the scent of him and the space immediately calming you further. making your way over to the couch, you sank into its cushions, letting out a small sigh as the tension in your body slowly began to unravel.

your eyes flicked toward the tv, noticing the movie playing in front of you, but your mind was only half-focused on it. instead, your attention kept shifting back to sukuna, who was still standing where you left him, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. though you could sense the concern lingering behind his sharp gaze, you knew better than to dwell on it. you just wanted to be close to him, and that was enough to ease the weight pressing down on you.

sukuna’s eyes followed your every move, sharp and observant. he was well-acquainted with your playful banter, the sly smiles and light teases you often threw his way. but beneath your usual demeanor, he sensed something was off about you. your steps were slower, your breaths came short and labored, and your skin was paler than usual. it took all of his self-control to keep his concerns in check, to not immediately pry further.

he slowly made his way toward the couch, dropping down beside you with a quiet huff, his gaze never leaving your face. the silence between you hung heavy as you shifted slightly on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the wince that followed didn’t go unnoticed by sukuna. his crimson eyes remained fixed on you, studying your every movement, the slightest flicker of discomfort sharpening his gaze. the deep, protective instinct within him stirred, a primal urge to pull you close, to shield you from whatever was causing your pain. his jaw clenched for a moment, fingers twitching as if to reach for you, but he stopped himself.

he knew you too well. he knew you weren’t someone who liked being coddled, that you thrived on your own strength, and he respected that deeply. but still, the desire to take care of you gnawed at him, a constant pull he couldn’t ignore. so instead of acting on it, sukuna leaned back into the couch, his arms draped casually along the backrest, though his eyes never left you.

you glanced up and caught his sharp stare, his silent concern almost palpable. a small chuckle escaped your lips, breaking the tension. “stop,” you teased softly, shaking your head with a smile, knowing exactly what he was thinking without him needing to say a word.

without waiting for his response, you shifted closer, your body pressing against his as you snuggled into him. the warmth of his chest was immediate, comforting in a way only sukuna could be. resting your head on him, you let out a content sigh, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. his arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you in tighter, but it was gentle, protective in the way only he could manage.

you smiled to yourself, feeling the weight of the world slowly lift off your shoulders, soothed by the closeness you shared with him. “this is all i need,” you murmured softly, closing your eyes as you let yourself relax fully in his embrace.

sukuna tensed momentarily as you leaned into him, the warmth of your body against his felt like a drug. the protective instinct that always simmered beneath his hardened exterior flared up again, stronger than ever. but your words, so soft spoken yet full of conviction, made him swallow his urges.

he didn’t verbally respond, but his arm around you pulled you closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back. he let out a low hum, deep and soothing in his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that seemed to resonate through you. as you settled further into his embrace, he fought the urge to shield you from the world, to keep you close and never let you go. but he knew he had to give you space, to let you be the strong person he knew you were. so instead, he adjusted his position, pulling you snugly onto his lap, his other hand coming up to lightly rest on your waist.

he leaned his chin against the top of your head, his eyes scanning the room, seemingly nonchalant, but deep down, he was hyperaware of every sound, every movement coming from you.

you stay in that position for what feels like hours, both of you letting the silence fill the space between the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. the soft flicker of the tv bathes the room in a dim light, but neither of you pays it any mind. instead, you remain curled up against him, your head resting heavily on his broad shoulder, nestled deep under the curve of his arm. his tattooed arms encircle you, strong and sure, their warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

there’s something about being in his presence that makes you feel invincible, like nothing in the world could touch you as long as he’s near. his aura, though intimidating to anyone else, is a shield for you, wrapping you in a sense of protection that leaves no room for fear. no matter how chaotic or exhausting your life may be, here, within the sanctuary of his arms, you are safe. the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is a melody, soothing your frayed nerves, calming the pain that had followed you for so long.

every beat seems to echo in rhythm with your own, each one a silent promise—he will always be there, he will always protect you. you sink further into him, the warmth of his skin against yours making it impossible to let go, like you're tethered to him in a way words can't explain. you tighten your grip around his solid frame, your arms curling around his muscular body as if holding him closer could make this moment last forever.

his heartbeat is soft beneath your ear, like the most beautiful symphony, easing the storm inside you, soothing the ache in your bones. this man, who the world sees as cruel and monstrous, is your comfort in all the chaos. the paradox of it all makes you smile faintly, but your smile is more of a feeling—relief, peace, maybe even love—radiating from the inside out as you let out a slow breath, your body finally relaxing fully against him. his hand moves gently up and down your back, almost unconsciously, as if reassuring himself you’re still there with him.

without lifting your head, you speak softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, slightly muffled against the firmness of his chest. “can i stay the night?” you ask, your words carrying a vulnerability you only show him. “i don’t really want to go home... i miss you.”

your voice is so quiet, like a secret meant only for him, a soft plea slipping through the stillness of the room. you don’t need to look at him to know he heard you. you feel it in the way his arm tightens slightly around you, holding you closer as if to say you never have to ask. there’s no hesitation in the way he responds, though he says nothing aloud. the comfort of his embrace is his answer—yes, you can stay, and no, you don’t have to face anything alone.

and as you press your cheek against him, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, you feel a peace that only he can give.

sukuna’s heart skipped a beat at your softly spoken words, a sharp tug of emotion pulling at his chest. there was a vulnerability in your voice, a quiet plea that he heard so clearly through the silence of the room. you didn't have to say much else. he had heard the exhaustion, the longing laced within each syllable.

he said nothing, his fingers continuing their steady path across the expanse of your back. he didn’t need to. the way he pulled you closer, the way his arms tightened around you, spoke more than enough. his answer, though unspoken, was clear as day.

his head dipped, resting gently against yours, the tender brush of his cheek against your hair sending a soft shiver down your spine. each slow, steady breath he took grazed your skin, a quiet reminder of how close he was, how perfectly in sync the two of you felt in that moment. his body, solid and warm, was like a wall of muscle and heat, grounding you with its unyielding strength. more comforting than any cushion, he was your refuge, your unbreakable fortress.

when he finally spoke, his voice rumbled through his chest, deep and resonant, sinking into the very core of you. “stay,” he said, the word carrying a weight far beyond its simplicity. it wasn’t just a request; it was an invitation wrapped in protection, a command softened by the love and care threaded within. there was no question, no other possibility in his mind. in his world, you staying wasn’t just allowed—it was inevitable, the only reality.

a soft hum escaped your lips, almost unbidden, as you melted deeper into his embrace, pressing closer to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. each beat was like a quiet lullaby, soothing the tension from your body, as if his very presence could make the world outside disappear. you nestled closer still, seeking his warmth, his solidity, knowing that in his arms, everything else could fade away.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words delicate, barely audible, almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy surrounding you. but in that moment, they felt heavier, deeper than ever before. it wasn’t just a declaration of love—it was an offering of trust, a confession of the comfort and safety you found in him. the three simple words wrapped around the both of you, holding more meaning than ever.

you felt him respond not with words but in the subtle tightening of his arms around you, the faint shift in his muscles as if your confession had reached a part of him that needed no verbal reply. in that quiet exchange, there was no need for further words. his presence, the way he held you closer, the quiet mingling of your breaths, was answer enough. you were home, wrapped in the quiet strength of his love.

sukuna’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath momentarily hitching at the sound of your confession. those three words, spoken so softly, echoed through him like a powerful force, a reminder of the love that filled his world. you'd said it before, but this time, the meaning was different, deeper. it sank into the very core of his being, wrapping around him more firmly than ever before.

he pulled you closer if it was even possible, his hands gently running up your back, tracing soft patterns on your skin. “i love you too,” he finally murmured, the words coming out in a deep, gentle rumble. his voice was softer, quieter than usual, holding an edge of vulnerability that matched the fragility of the moment. he rarely uttered such sentiments, but with you, the words came easily, naturally. his heart was a fortress for most, but when it came to you, the walls crumbled, leaving behind only the raw truth of his feelings for you.

he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your scent as if committing it to memory, the smell of you a soothing balm in his senses. your presence in his arms was a comfort unlike any other, a feeling he treasured more than anything.

sukuna’s hands continued their steady path across your back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles, as if trying to ease every bit of tension in your body. even he could feel your exhaustion, the way your body seemed to sag against him, seeking rest and solace.

“you’re tired,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. it wasn’t a question, more of a statement, a gentle observation of the weariness he could feel radiating off you. he pulled you a fraction closer, one hand moving up to run through your hair in a slow, gentle motion.

you let out a heavy sigh, your breath mingling with the warmth of his chest. “just a little bit,” you whispered, though the fatigue in your voice betrayed you. the gentle motion of his hand through your hair sent a wave of comfort through your body, soothing the ache that had settled deep within. every touch from sukuna felt like an unspoken promise, as if he could take away all the weariness just by being there. you relaxed further into him, your body giving in to the comfort he offered, allowing the tension to melt away under his touch.

sukuna chuckled softly against your hair, the sound as deep and comforting as a gentle caress. “just a little bit,” he echoed your words, a hint of teasing in his voice. but there was understanding there too, a knowing that despite your nonchalance, you were more than just a ‘little bit’ tired.

he continued his comforting motions, his fingers idly tracing small, soothing patterns across your back, as if silently coaxing the tiredness from your body. “you’re terrible at lying, you know,” he said, the affection in his tone betraying his lighthearted chastisement.

you chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his chest, mirroring the warmth of his own laugh. slowly, you lifted your head, eyes meeting his intense gaze, the affection in his crimson eyes softening the usual sharpness they held. shifting slightly in his embrace, you reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing against the familiar lines of his tattoo.

“just a little bit,” you repeated, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips, though the exhaustion in your eyes betrayed your playful words. you lingered there for a moment, your touch gentle, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, a quiet reassurance in the simple connection between you.

sukuna met your gaze, a flicker of a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as your fingers found his cheek. the teasing banter between you never failed to amuse him, each exchange a silent dance only the two of you knew.

he raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock skepticism. “keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he said, the nickname rolling effortlessly off his tongue, a rare slip from his usual intimidating demeanor. he leaned into your touch, his gaze never leaving yours. the softness in his eyes betrayed the hardness he showed the world, a side only you got to see.

you chuckled softly, the sound light but carrying a warmth that filled the space between you. then, with a playful frown, you tilted your head and let out a mock sigh, pouting as you teased, “you’re so hard to pleased, you know that?” your tone was dripping with playful sarcasm, your lips forming a small pout as your fingers still rested gently on his cheek.

the pout deepened, your eyes narrowing slightly in exaggerated frustration, but the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth gave you away. you watched his reaction carefully, knowing how much he secretly enjoyed these moments of teasing, even if he pretended otherwise.

sukuna let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. you were a master at playing him, knowing exactly how to get a rise out of him and how to soften his edges. your pout was adorable, though he'd never admit it aloud.

he leaned in, mere inches from your face, his eyes narrowing in response to your faux frustration. “keep going like this and you won’t satisfy me for a long time,” he warned, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, carrying a hint of a threat.

sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily, watching as they formed your small pout. a flicker of desire flashed through his eyes, a silent admission of his own growing impatience. the tension between you was tangible, an invisible current that seemed to crackle with each silent exchange.

he raised one hand, his thumb gently tracing the edge of your bottom lip, the rough pad of his finger barely touching your skin yet sending a shiver down your spine. “keep making that face at me and see where it gets you,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, a promise as much as a warning.

your playful frown deepened at his words, and you looked up at him with wide eyes, your pout accentuating your playful tone as you replied, “so scary.” despite the lightness of your words, a thrill ran through you at his intensity, the way he seemed to revel in the tension that hung between you.

before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, the softness of the moment contrasting with the heat of the teasing banter. it was a fleeting connection, but it sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving a lingering smile on your lips as you pulled back, your heart racing at the daring gesture.

sukuna smiled softly, a warmth spreading through him as he felt your lips against his, even if just for a brief moment. a low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, the sound a quiet acknowledgment of the connection you shared. his thumb grazed your cheek, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter, and before you could fully comprehend the shift, he pulled you closer, sealing the space between you with a deeper kiss.

this time, his lips moved against yours with a gentle fervor, as if savoring the sweetness of the moment. the kiss was tender, a stark contrast to the teasing banter that had just filled the room, and you felt yourself melt into him, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in the softness of his touch. it was a kiss that spoke volumes—of affection, of longing, and of the unbreakable bond that tethered you to one another.

sukuna’s hands shifted slightly, one cupping the back of your head, holding you to him as he deepened the kiss further. each gentle caress of his lips was a promise, an unspoken declaration of love. he could feel your body relaxing against him, the tension of the day melting away as you gave in to the tenderness of the moment.

after what seemed like an eternity but was mere seconds, he slowly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to regulate his breathing. his touch was still gentle, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your cheek.

“don’t pout at me again,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting against your own as he spoke, “unless you want me to do something about it.”

there was a huskiness in his voice that betrayed his own growing desire for more, a hint of the possessive nature that simmered just beneath his stoic demeanor. his body trembled almost imperceptibly, a physical response to your closeness, to the way you affected him.

sukuna’s eyes flickered open, their usual intensity replaced with a softer, gentler look as he took in the sight of you so close to him, so visibly affected by his touch. he could see the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle with a mixture of surprise and affection.

he shifted slightly, his other arm moving around your waist, pulling you even closer as he leaned in, his lips gently tracing the line of your jawline, moving down to the soft skin of your neck. sukuna's breath was warm against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses, each one a declaration of his affection. his lips lingered on the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth gently grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

he pulled back slightly, admiring the mark he had just left. satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, a possessive look that said you were his, in every way that mattered. he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips sending a wave of comfort through you. he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. in that moment, the world outside faded into silence, and nothing else mattered but the intimacy shared between you.

you melted against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a soothing reminder of his presence. words felt unnecessary, too loud and clumsy to capture the depth of what you both felt. instead, you exchanged quiet moments, your actions speaking volumes as you reveled in the softness of his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. each breath you took together felt like a silent promise, a testament to the bond that connected your hearts in an unspoken understanding.

sukuna held you tight against him, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, a soft and soothing rhythm that seemed to seep into your very soul. he could feel the tension leaving your body, your muscles relaxing against him, your breathing growing slower, more steady.

he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to memorize the feel of your skin. “you’re tired,” he whispered, the statement a gentle reminder that you needed rest. there was no need for more words—the intimacy of the moment spoke louder than any words ever could.

you fell asleep on his couch, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing creating a soothing rhythm in the quiet room. sukuna, wanting to continue watching the game, decided to let you rest a little longer. he slipped away to his room to grab a soft blanket, planning to drape it over you without disturbing your peaceful slumber.

as he returned, a warmth spread through him at the sight of you curled up, lost in dreams. however, when he leaned down to drape the blanket over your body, he noticed the way your jacket had shifted. he gently tugged it off, careful not to wake you, but the sight of your bare arms beneath your baby tee made his heart drop.

his gaze fell upon a bruise near your shoulder, dark and angry against your skin. a frown tugged at his lips as he continued to inspect your arm, revealing more bruises scattered across your skin. horror crept into his red eyes, tightening in his chest at the realization of how hurt you were.

setting your jacket aside, he gently lifted your shirt, revealing your stomach that bore similar marks of pain—purple and red bruises that told a silent story of struggle. a surge of protectiveness washed over him, anger simmering beneath the surface as he struggled to comprehend how you had gotten hurt like this. in that moment, all thoughts of the game vanished, replaced by an overwhelming urge to shield you from harm and ensure that you were safe.

with a frown etched on his face, sukuna settled onto the coffee table beside the couch, his gaze fixed on your sleeping form. you looked peaceful, curled up like a little cat, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing in his heart.

he was aware of your abusive father and had heard fragments of your struggles, but seeing the bruises that marred your skin brought a new wave of rage and sadness crashing over him. the vivid impressions left on your body were a stark reminder of the pain you endured, igniting a fierce protectiveness within him. the realization of how deep the abuse ran made his blood boil, a tempest of anger simmering just beneath the surface.

rising from his seat, he gently shifted you onto your side, cradling you with care as he lifted your shirt. he hoped to find nothing but smooth skin, but instead, his heart sank at the sight of a large bruise on your back. understanding flooded in as he recalled the way you had winced at his gentle touches. the thought that someone could hurt you like this twisted in his gut, a knot of frustration and sorrow.

sukuna returned to his spot on the coffee table, his eyes drifting back to your face. you appeared so calm and innocent, a stark contrast to the pain hidden beneath the surface. he blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, his fingers instinctively brushing your hair away from your face. in that moment, he vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to protect you, to be the shield against the darkness that had touched your life. no one would ever lay a hand on you again.

the game faded into oblivion as sukuna carefully lifted your body into his arms, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. he cradled you against him, feeling the weight of your vulnerability as he carried you to his bedroom. each step was deliberate, as if he feared jostling you from your peaceful slumber.

once he reached the bed, he gently laid you down, ensuring you were comfortable before settling beside you. he pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you in warmth and security. the soft fabric cocooned you, shielding you from the world outside as he tucked you in close, his presence a silent promise of safety.

with you nestled against him, sukuna let out a soft sigh, his fingers gently brushing over your hair. the tranquility of the moment enveloped him, and he found solace in just being there with you, a protective guardian in the quiet night. he would watch over you, ensuring that no harm would come your way, determined to create a space where you could feel safe and loved.

sukuna allowed the silence to settle around you, the only sound being the steady rhythm of your breath, in unison with his own. he held you close, his arms encircling you protectively, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

he found himself lost in thought, the image of your bruised body replaying in his mind incessantly. the knowledge of your abuse and the extent of your suffering cut through his heart like a knife, the pain of it nearly suffocating. he shifted slightly, pulling you deeper into his embrace, as if by doing so he could erase the shadows that plagued your life.

the room was hushed, the silence interrupted only by the whispered sound of your breathing. his eyes flicked down to you, studying your face, the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you slept. the sight of you, tucked against him, sparked a possessive feeling within him, a burning need to keep you safe and away from harm.

he felt the weight of his own promise, the vow he had made to himself to shield you from the suffering you had endured. sukuna pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment, as if sealing the commitment with a silent gesture. “you will be alright, i’ll make sure of it,” he whispered to your forehead before giving you another kiss.

sukuna’s words hung in the air, a silent vow spoken against the soft skin of your forehead. he continued to hold you, his arms wrapped protectively around you like a shield, his body radiating warmth and comfort.

his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—anger at those who had hurt you, sadness at the suffering you had endured, and above all, a fierce determination to protect you. his hold on you tightened slightly, as if to drive his point home more effectively. he placed another gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered once more, “i promise.”

it was the next morning when you found yourselves in sukuna’s living room, the soft light filtering through the windows casting a warm glow around you. the moment you woke up and realized your jacket was no longer draped over you, a rush of understanding washed over you—you knew he had seen the bruises.

the air was thick with unspoken words as you sat curled up on the couch, your knees tucked tightly to your chest. sukuna sat across from you on the coffee table, his presence both comforting and imposing. his large hand enveloped yours, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across your skin, grounding you in the moment.

“live with me,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. there was no hint of anger in his tone, no questions pressed upon you like weights. instead, there was a calm acceptance, an understanding that filled the space between you. he didn’t need you to explain, didn’t demand answers. he simply knew—knew that you would share when you were ready.

right now, all he wanted was to ensure you felt safe. his eyes were soft, filled with an earnestness that made your heart flutter. it was an offer laced with protection and care, a sanctuary away from everything that had hurt you. you felt the weight of his words, the promise behind them, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the flicker of hope ignite within you.

he added, “i’ll keep you safe, with me,” he murmured, his crimson irises locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

as you looked into those depths, you saw nothing but love and a fierce protectiveness that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. it was a promise, a vow that resonated deep within you. the weight of his words settled in your heart, easing the tension that had built up inside.

after a moment of stillness, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “okay.” it was a simple word, yet it carried so much—acceptance, trust, and a tentative hope for the future. in that moment, you knew you weren’t alone anymore. with sukuna by your side, you could finally begin to heal.

sukuna's heart felt like it might overflow as you uttered that simple word—"okay." it was a fragile, tentative agreement, but it meant the world to him. the weight of your trust, the acceptance in your voice, settled over him like a protective veil, giving him strength and purpose.

he tightened his grip on your hand, bringing it up to press it against his cheek. closing his eyes for a moment, he savored the feel of your touch, relishing in the knowledge that you had chosen to let him in, to let him take care of you.

sukuna opened his eyes again, his gaze never leaving yours. there was a vulnerability in his expression, a hint of raw emotion beneath the surface of his usual stoicism.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice gruff yet filled with a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show. he lifted your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. it was a silent gesture of gratitude, for trusting him, for allowing him to be your safe haven.

you pulled your hand gently from his and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. the warmth of his body was immediate, grounding you in the present moment. your cheek rested against him as you closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent.

“thank you,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with gratitude and emotion. the words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you felt—your appreciation for his unwavering presence, his strength, and the safe space he had become for you. in his arms, you finally felt like you could breathe.

sukuna’s heart ached at the sound of your whispered words. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap, holding you tight against him. he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, relishing the feeling of your warm body against his.

he held you like that for a moment, in silence, letting the gravity of the moment sink in. then, he pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “i’m going to take care of you now,” he said, his voice a low, firm promise.

your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, your eyes locking onto his. the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, but there was a softness there too—something rare, something that only you ever got to see. a small smile tugged at your lips when his fingers slid through your hair, carefully tucking a loose strand behind your ear. the gesture was tender, intimate, a silent promise in itself.

“why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could sense the concern in it. “i’ll make you breakfast. then we’ll head out and get a few things for you.”

the warmth of his touch and the reassurance in his words made you feel safe, truly safe, as if everything might finally be okay. you nodded, still smiling, your fingers gently tracing the back of his neck before you whispered, “okay.”

sukuna nodded in response, his eyes flickering over your form, his gaze tracing every contour, every bruise on your skin beneath the fabric of your clothes. there was a simmering anger in him, a seething possessiveness that flared up at the sight of your wounds, but he shoved it down, focusing on the present moment instead.

he gently caressed your hair one last time before releasing you from his lap, his hands resting on your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. “go on,” he murmured, the huskiness in his voice betraying a hint of his desire to keep you close.

sukuna watched as you stood from his lap, letting his hands linger on your hips for a few moments longer than necessary. he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from you, every instinct in him screaming to keep you near. but he knew you needed some space to process and freshen up, especially after the night you had. he released you, reluctantly letting his hands fall away from your body, as you turned and padded out of the room. a pang of loneliness hit him as soon as you were out of sight, the absence of your presence making his chest feel strangely hollow.

while you were in the shower, sukuna made his way to the bedroom, his steps purposeful but his mind spinning. he entered his walk-in closet and grabbed some clothes for you—one of his oversized shirts and a pair of sweatpants. his fingers paused on the shelf, eyes lingering on the empty space he had cleared out for you just hours ago. when he woke up in the middle of the night, restless and unable to sleep, he’d wandered around the apartment, preparing a place for you, mentally moving things, physically rearranging others. the thought of you being here permanently had taken root, growing stronger with each passing hour.

as he grabbed the clothes, he couldn’t help but think of how simple yet monumental it felt to make space for you, not just in his home but in his life. it wasn’t something he had ever done for anyone else. but for you, he was ready.

walking into the kitchen, sukuna set to work making breakfast, though his hands moved almost mechanically. his mind was somewhere else entirely. underneath the surface of his calm exterior, a storm raged, wild and violent. every time he thought of the bruises he’d seen on your body, his blood boiled. he wanted nothing more than to storm into your house and beat your father to a pulp, to make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d caused you. but he stopped himself. he knew, as much as he craved that vengeance, it wouldn’t help. it would only add to the chaos in your life, and the last thing he wanted was to cause you more stress.

he inhaled deeply, pushing the anger down for now. for your sake, he had to remain calm, had to be the steady presence you needed. with that thought, he flipped the eggs in the pan and continued making breakfast, his mind fixed on the promise he made to you. he’d take care of you now.

as sukuna finished cooking breakfast, he plated the food and placed it on the table, his thoughts still troubled. he glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, spotting you entering the kitchen, his over-sized shirt hanging loosely on your petite frame, making you look even more fragile.

his eyes fixated on a particularly large bruise on your collarbone, visible above the neckline of the shirt. the sight of it sent another surge of anger through him, but he forcefully tamped it down, schooling his features into a neutral expression.

you walked into the kitchen, sukuna’s oversized shirt hanging loosely on you, your damp hair still clinging to your neck. your smile was soft as your eyes landed on him, and despite everything, you managed to find comfort in his presence. stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his side, nuzzling into him as you breathed in the scent of breakfast.

“smells good, baby,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. you tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your smile warm despite the tiredness in your eyes.

sukuna’s gaze softened when you hugged him, his hand instinctively coming to rest on the small of your back, holding you there for a moment. he forced the storm of anger back, focusing only on the tenderness of the moment. “it’ll taste even better,” he replied, his voice gentle.

sukuna gently ran his hand over your back, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles on your skin. his touch was light, almost hesitant, as he fought against the urge to pull you tightly against him, to feel the tangible proof of your presence.

the sight of you, so small and vulnerable, wrapped up in his clothes, stirred something primal within him. he wanted nothing more than to shield you from the world, to make sure no one would ever hurt you again. he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “let’s eat.”

you both sat at the dining table, the smell of the warm breakfast filling the room. the plates were set, and the atmosphere was lighter, though the weight of everything that had happened still lingered in the background. sukuna leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed loosely as he looked at you, a small smirk on his lips.

“so, what’s the plan for today?” he asked casually, though his tone hinted at something more — his desire to make sure you felt safe and comfortable.

you glanced at him, thoughtfully poking at your food with your fork before smiling softly. “maybe we can start by getting a few of my things? i can’t keep borrowing your clothes forever,” you teased, although a part of you relished the comfort of being wrapped in something that belonged to him.

sukuna chuckled at your response, glad to see you could still crack a joke, even after everything. his gaze softened as he watched you poke at your food, thinking of a way to make the day as stress-free as possible.

he leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers under his chin thoughtfully. “that’s not a bad idea,” he said, a little grin forming on his lips. “but you look so good in my clothes, i might have trouble letting you wear anything else.”

you hummed, a small, amused smile forming on your lips as you placed a piece of egg into your mouth. after chewing, you raised an eyebrow and said, “i always look good, but... i also need my underwear and, you know, everything important.” your voice was light, playful, but there was a truth behind your words.

sukuna chuckled again, the sound low and rich, full of mirth. the tension in the room eased slightly as you engaged in the small banter.

he raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand. his gaze was half-lidded, a smirk playing on his lips. “and if i say no? what are you gonna do then?” he teased, his tone filled with mock seriousness.

you chuckled, meeting his half-lidded gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. “oh, i’ll just walk around the apartment naked,” you teased back, your tone light and mischievous. the words slipped out easily, a deliberate attempt to break the lingering tension between you both.

sukuna’s smirk widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement at your response. he leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms of the seat.

“oh really?” he drawled, drawing out the word as he tilted his head slightly. he let his eyes wander over your form, taking in the sight of you in his oversized clothes. “as much as the thought of that pleases me, i don’t think i’d get any work done, sweetheart.”

you chuckled softly as you leaned closer to sukuna, your movements slow and deliberate, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “that’s exactly why we need to get my things first,” you whispered, your lips barely brushing his skin as you spoke, your voice carrying a teasing tone.

pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkled with amusement as you added, “we can’t have you getting distracted all day, now can we?” your playful smile lingered as your hand briefly rested on his arm before you stood up, signaling your readiness to start the day.

before you could move far, sukuna shifted, his hand reaching out to pull you gently so that you stood between his legs. his presence was grounding, and as you placed your thumb lightly against his forehead, you leaned in to give him a soft kiss there. “you’ve been good to me,” you murmured, your voice full of affection, a quiet appreciation for the way he was looking out for you.

sukuna's heart skipped a beat at your words, the tenderness in your voice making his chest feel tight. he relished in the feeling of your touch against his cheek, the press of your lips against his forehead.

he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer between his legs. your small frame fit perfectly in the circle of his embrace, and he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, letting it soothe his restless mind.

“you deserve nothing less,” he murmured, his voice gruff with unspoken emotions. he leaned his forehead against your stomach, nuzzling gently into the fabric of his shirt that you were wearing

for a moment, you stood still between his legs, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his head resting against your stomach. your eyes softened as you looked down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair and along his back in slow, soothing strokes.

you leaned down slightly, planting a few tender kisses on the top of his head, each one filled with quiet affection. you could feel the tension in his body start to ease under your touch, the weight of the world he often carried seeming just a little lighter in this moment of intimacy.

sukuna let out a soft sigh as you ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in the feeling of your touch. every kiss you placed on his head was like a balm that eased the tension in his muscles, the ache in his heart.

he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his body molding itself around you. he inhaled deeply, your scent filling his lungs, grounding him, centering him. he whispered your name, his voice a low, ragged murmur against your stomach.

he pressed a kiss against your stomach, the contact firm and deliberate, almost as if he was trying to imprint himself onto your skin. his hands moved to your hips, his fingers gripping a little tighter, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every little feature, every small bruise that littered your skin, a silent reminder of the pain you’d endured. and yet, despite it all, you were still here, standing in front of him.

anger flared up in him again at the sight of those bruises, a snarl forming on his lips. he hated how fragile you looked, how vulnerable. the protective instinct in him flared up, making him want to storm into your father's house and beat him senseless. but he knew that wouldn't solve anything. all it would do is add to your stress, something he desperately wanted to avoid. so he simply held you tighter against him, his voice barely above a growl.

“this is the last time he lays a hand on you.”

you nodded silently, your fingers threading gently through his hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingertips. you could feel the tension radiating off him, his muscles coiled tight beneath your touch as if he were holding back a storm. but your voice was calm, steady, as you whispered, “i’m safe now... now that i’m with you.”

your words seemed to soften the edge of his anger, and you leaned into his hold, letting the warmth of his body envelop you. the intensity of his protectiveness made you feel secure, knowing that, with him, you no longer had to fear what lay outside his walls.

sukuna leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he savored the gentle pull of your fingers through his hair. your words, soft and steady, washed over him like a soothing balm, extinguishing the fire of his anger.

he rested his forehead against your stomach, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. he held you tighter, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the damp locks of your hair. “you always will be,” he replied firmly, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes tracing over your features, taking in the way they softened under his touch. he brought one hand up to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

the sight of those goddamned bruises made him want to tear something apart, but he held back, his anger replaced by a fiercely protective instinct. he ran his thumb over a particularly dark bruise, his touch light but filled with an aching tenderness. “promise me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“promise me,” he repeated, his gaze locking with yours. “promise me that no one will ever touch you like this again, that you’ll let me take care of you from now on.” he was demanding, commanding, his grip on your face firm but not painful. he needed to hear the words, to know that you were his now, that you would come to him when things got rough.

“promise me you won’t let him near you again,” he continued, his hand moving from your face to rest against your chest, his palm flat over your heart. “promise me you’ll never go back there.” the thought of you going back to that hellhole filled him with an icy dread, a clenching fear in his gut. he could not, would not, let anything happen to you again. even the thought made his blood run cold.

you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. his intensity was overwhelming, but it was laced with such fierce protectiveness that it made you feel safe. with a sad, soft smile, you reached up to place your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his palm against your heart.

“promise,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him relax ever so slightly. you could see the tension in his jaw ease as he exhaled, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“i won’t go back there,” you added quietly, your thumb brushing against his hand in a silent vow. “i’m here now, with you.” the truth of that statement grounded you both, a small sense of peace settling between the two of you as you held onto each other.

sukuna felt a flood of relief wash over him as your voice, soft and sincere, echoed your promise. his grip on your hand tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his hold almost possessive, as if to ensure you would keep your word.

he let out a shuddering breath, the adrenaline and the raw emotion of the moment finally catching up to him. he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice rough with feeling. “mine to protect, mine to keep safe. no one else’s.”

he ran his free hand down your back, his fingers tracing gentle circles over your spine. the gesture was meant to soothe, to ground him as much as it was to soothe you. he felt the need to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin under his fingers, a tangible proof that you were really there, safe in his embrace. “and i’m yours, sweetheart,” he added, his eyes opening to fix you with an intense gaze. “mine to care for, mine to love. no one else’s.”

he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against the bruise on your collarbone. the kiss was light, almost reverent, but there was a hint of possessiveness in the way he held you tight against him. he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice low and firm. “i’m staying with you today.” he left no room for argument in his tone, his decision final. “and from now on, you’re coming home to me every night.”

your smile was soft, but your eyes, despite the exhaustion weighing them down, sparkled with a happiness that couldn't be hidden. his words, his unwavering support, and protectiveness wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the ache inside your heart. you leaned in closer, your arms sliding around his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

nodding, you whispered, “i like that,” your voice full of quiet relief and contentment. resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of being in his arms wash over you. being with him, knowing he’d protect you, made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

sukuna’s arms wrapped around you almost instinctively, pulling you flush against him. one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting at the small of your back, his fingers splayed across your skin.

he savored the feel of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his embrace, as if you were made to be there. he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding with the motion, his nose buried in the warm, familiar scent of your hair. he stayed like that for a long moment, just holding you, relishing the simple pleasure of having you close, safe and his. he could feel the steady thump of your heartbeat against his chest, the rhythm of it slowly syncing with his own, a reassurance that you were here, alive, and most importantly, that you were his.

the knowledge sent a thrill through him, a mix of pride and affection, that you belonged to him now, that you trusted him to take care of you. it ignited a primal need within him, a compulsion to keep you as close as possible, to ensure that no one could ever hurt you again.

“you’re so goddamned precious it’s almost ridiculous,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. his fingers moved idly against your back, tracing small circles against your skin as he held you.

he couldn’t help the surge of possessiveness that coursed through him as he held you. the idea of someone, anyone, daring to lay a hand on you, to cause you pain and fear, made his blood boil. he swore to himself right then and there that he would do anything, anything at all, to keep you safe.

[yeri-luvr]

BFF

pair: bestfriend!ningning x fem!reader

wc: 800+

includes: oral, strap use, ass slapping, top ningning

watching movies, gossiping, eating snacks, online shopping, and napping. that’s what your hangouts with your best friend, ningning, usually consisted of.

so it was a surprise when you found yourself getting your pussy ate by the same girl you used to watch my little pony with.

“fuck, just like that” you cry out, feeling the subtle sucking of nings tongue on your clit leaving you in a daze.

ningning could coo at the way you looked as you fell victim to the ministrations of her tongue, already grinding your heat against her face at a fervent pace.

you’re unsure of how you wound up in this position, but your best friend left you with nothing to complain about as she ate you out as if her life depended on it.

you scratch at her hair as she leaves open mouthed kisses on your hot cunt, so passionately that it made you believe you two were something else for a second. she stops her movements, drawing out a groan from your throat.

ning wastes no time shuffling through her closet, coming out wearing a strap that you had no clue of her owning.

you felt your slick growing as she repositioned you onto your fours, pressing against your back to get a better view of your messy pussy.

ningning feels herself getting wetter at the mere sight of you. she brings her fingers up to spread your lips apart, gaping at the the strings of slick between them.

“I could barely get my tongue inside you,” she circles the tip of her strap around your entrance, “I wonder how i’m gonna get my cock to fit.”

sliding the faux cock into your hole, your breath hitches as you began to feel the stretch that ningning provided. you were left with your jaw hanging, unnable to get a moan out. on the other hand, ning groaned unashamedly at the sight of you wrapped around her. once coming to a halt, she pulled back out with a little struggle because of your tightness.

the pace your best friend had set was moderate while you craved for more. desperate and needy, you rock back and forth hoping ningning would get the hint.

she was pleased at the sight of your hips bouncing back against her pelvis. you found yourself clawing at the sheets as she met your thrusts half way, one hand holding your hip while the other managed to slither around your waist towards your clit.

“tightest pussy ever.” she mumbled, gawking at how hard it is to pull out of you, “m’gonna fuck you all night.”

you shamelessly grind against ningning, mumbling incoherent curses against the bedsheets. she retracts her hand from your slit to hold onto your other hip, increasing the rapid, forceful friction.

the burn from the girthy cock left you wailing out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, allowing ningning to take control and do as she pleases.

missing the way ningning played with you, your finger circles your clit before you’re met with a spank that sends you flying forward. you squeal at the sting of nings slap on your ass.

“who told you to touch yourself?” she tends to your need herself, leaving you crying into the pillow under you.

“let me do the work. i’ll take care of you, princess.”

you find it impossible to mutter any words out, instead focusing on the feeling of ningning dicking you down.

you feel her makeshift your hair into a ponytail while rubbing your almost-spent cunt, picking up the pace and making your back arch.

the arch allowed her tip to kiss your cervix repeatedly, you cried out in pleasure while all ningning could think about was why you guys haven’t done this earlier.

you felt her hips stutter as she let out small whimpers, her pace faltering for just 5 seconds. At first you didn’t clock it but then you realized,

ningning came at the sight of you alone?

with the way she picked herself up fairly quickly, you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying attention.

your grip on the bedsheets tightened as you got close to finishing, hearing ningning mutter something along the lines of, “been wanting this,” and “you’re so pretty like this”.

you were left breathless as you reached your high, ningning instinctively pulling you closer as she mumbled words of encouragement to you. all you focused on in that moment was the feeling of her dragged-out thrusts and the sound of your slick caused by your best friend.

the warmth of her lips pecking your back soothed you to a normal breath pace, fully coming down from the intensity of your climax. flipping your over and snuggling into your neck, ningning complained, “I can’t believe i finished before you did.”

you laugh at loud at this, already imagining all the teasing rights you’d have after this.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinktober Masterlist 2024

Welcome to Kinktober everyone! This is the list and descriptions of all the Halloween fics I have managed to write involving either Wanda, Nat and, in some chapters, even both of them :)

All chapters include 18+ smut and something relating to the spooky season so I hope you all enjoy.

Happy Halloween everyone! <3

 All of these fics contain 18+ smut (so MDNI) and all have specific warnings/tags at the start of each so please read these carefully before reading. Some of these one shots contain dark themes so please consider the warnings/tags specified. 

1) Madness -Admiring your girlfriend tied up, blindfolded and waiting eagerly for you to play with the new nipple clamps adorning her body, has only one thing filling your mind: how to drive her mad with your touch, how to engrave the feeling of your tantalising lips, teasing fingers and torturous tongue in her mind for weeks. (Dom Reader X Sub Wanda)

Madness G!P Reader Version

2) Pumpkin Carving: Carving a pumpkin with your girlfriend was supposed to be a fun and easy task, well, that was until you got distracted by the sight of her toned arms and her seductive hands, unable to stop your thoughts from remembering how her fingers felt deep inside you. (Dom Natasha X Sub Reader) 

3) Trick Or Treat: Knocking on your neighbours door, you were hoping to receive a ‘treat’ from the older woman before her husband and children came back from their trick or treating trip. (Milf Wanda X Reader) 

4) What’s Your Favourite Scary Movie?: Whilst on the phone to your girlfriend, the conversation starts off innocently with favourite horror films before escalating down a more sinful path. You tell her how you wish she could be here with you, unaware of the small camera she had hidden in your room, watching as she guides you slide your hands under your panties. (Dark Natasha X Reader) 

5) The Devil Made Me Do It: After an unusual dream and the darkhold corrupting her mind, Wanda can’t help but look over at your form, soundly asleep, and wanting to make that dream a reality. (Dark Wanda X Reader) 

6) I Promise I Won’t Bite: Ending up in the Maximoff-Romanoff Mansion, you can’t help but be nervous in the presence of both powerful women. Wanda assures you that you had nothing to fear, that she wouldn’t bite, but the same couldn’t be said for her wife, Natasha, who’s smirk showed off her subtle fangs, desire evident in her lustful gaze. (Vampire WandaNat X Reader) 

7) One Day A Year: A girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girl can say anything about it. Whilst at a party with your two girlfriends, dressed up in your sinful costumes, the three of you find yourself on the sofa with a blanket over you laps, the two women intending to take advantage of the privacy and how drunk everyone else was, too distracted to notice how your cheeks flushed with arousal. (WandaNat X Reader) 

I have not finished writing all of these so I’m not sure what the upload structure will be like. My plan is to post the first fic on Friday and hopefully write the rest of them so I have them all finished by Halloween! (If not I will still write them and just post them as soon as they’re written) 

Let me know which chapters you’re most looking forward to! I hope you all enjoy <3 

[finsplurtz]

nobody’s home — choso.kamo

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Choso Kamo

— contents : step-cest , touching w/o consent uh oh , Choso tries to tell yn to stop but gives in bc he loves the feeling , handjob , biting n hickeys , mention of virginity loss n Choso does cry abt it , does change his mind abt it nd ends up rlly liking it , praises n degrading lolll

warnings : step cest obv , maybe.. r4pe implications not sure wtv

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Choso’s mother had divorced his father and she found a boyfriend who already had a kid.

The first time they met was … interesting. He got home from hanging out with some friends, he greeted his mom and step-dad, went into the bathroom and quickly backed out closing the door.

He covered his face, he had walked in to some guy shirtless in the bathroom. He went to ask his mom and she told him that, yn, was his new younger brother.

When they saw each other after that he apologized.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to you know…” yn smirked checking the guy out while he wasn’t looking.

“It’s cool, we’re both guys. Nothing to be embarrassed about” He flashed a smile before leaving to his room.

Yn was younger than Choso by 3-4 years.

Choso definitely caught onto the subtle hints that yn was throwing his way. Yn would sometimes invite him to watch a movie or something, he’d get super cuddly and touchy.. like have his arm wrapped around his waist or have his hand slowly massage his thigh.

Sometimes when they’d be out yn would insist on buying Choso a drink, or even smoking together or something, but he always found a way to make it sound intimate.

Maybe Choso was going crazy.. maybe yn was just really trying to have a nice sibling bonding moment and Choso was taking it the wrong way..

Okay enough of turning yn’s offers down, he definitely just wants to be close brothers.

“Hey, ‘oso. Mom and dad wanted to ask you something” yn popped into Choso’s room and went over to sit on his bed and handed him the phone. Usually his parents called on yn’s phone, since sometimes Choso doesn’t answer cs he’s busy studying or sleeping.

“Hey hon, just wanted to let you know we won’t be home till very late! It’s our 1 year anniversary and we have a lot planned” Choso hummed while yn took whatever book Choso was reading and skimming thru it.

He sighed and put the book back. Gently pulled Choso down towards the bed and cuddled him. Choso was still listening to his mom talk and talk but he wasn’t paying attention. His heart was pounding in his chest.

yn had his leg over Choso’s waist and arm over his chest. Choso could feel yn’s warm breath on his neck, his lips were an inch away from Cho’s skin.

Finally his mom ended the call and Choso was frozen.

“…uh…here’s your phone..” He said.

“Just put it on the counter or something” yn said in a low voice right under Choso’s ear. “….what are u doing”

“…nobody’s home, oso..~” Choso could practically hear yn’s smirk.

“Have you ever touched a guy..?” his hand gently massaged over Choso’s chest.

“…n-no…yn I- I don’t think this is…” Choso pushed yn’s arm away and managed to sit up.

“Mm..awww cmon.. we’re alone, nobody can walk in on us..” yn looked at his half brother with low eyes.

“S..still it’s just..w-wrong—“ Choso flinched when he felt yn tightly wrap his arm around Choso’s waist to keep him from squirming and dug his hands into Choso’s pants.

“y-yn..?! S..stop I don’t…!” His breath hitched when yn began to stroke him. Choso’s nails were digging into yn’s arm trying to squirm away or something. yn rested his chin on his brother’s shoulder and continued to fap him.

“Ngh..! Mhhnn…~ s….stop..” Choso was panting and subconsciously grinding his hips into his brothers hand. He threw his head back exposing his neck, yn saw the opportunity and began to kiss and suck on Choso’s pale skin.

“Ahh~ f..fuck…~” Choso’s grip on yn’s arm loosened and he brought one hand up to cover his mouth.

“See…you love it, don’t you…~” yn whispered into the ravenette’s ear. Choso just whined, he didn’t really care anymore. Plus yn had a point, nobody would ever catch them doing this. It’s not like they were even related…

yn sped up his pace and stroked faster while sinking his sharp teeth into Choso’s neck.

“Ah- ah I’m gonna c..come—“ Choso gasped and grabbed onto yn’s hair tightly as he came and made a mess in his briefs. “Fuuuckk…s..so good~” He whimpered as his dick twitched in yn’s hand.

yn slid his arm off Choso’s waist and pulled his pants off along with his underwear. He easily lied him down on the bed and used the finger that had his cum on it to finger him.

“..nnnyooo…d..don’t….” Choso was too dizzy to put up a fight anymore. He just let out more moans and cries when yn found his prostate and massaged his fingers over it.

yn stroked himself, he loved the view. Choso’s pretty little hole being slowly opened by his fingers, just ready to take his cock..

yn pulls his fingers out and quickly pushed himself into Choso earning a gasp and whine from him.

“S-shit..! Y..you…” Choso felt tears welling up in his eyes, he wasn’t sure how to feel….

yn noticed and rolled his eyes. He leaned down to kiss Choso’s cheek.

“Don’t worry….your brother is gonna make you feel good..~” Choso blushed and screamed when said brother began to roughly thrust into him hitting him right in his g spot.

“UGHN-! F-FUCK TOO MUCH..!”Choso felt a tad bit overstimulated, but fuck did it feel good.

“Aww..look at you just taking my cock so well, hm?~ you love it…you love how well your little brother stuffs you, don’t you, prince..~” Choso moaned at yn’s dirty talk, he was so into this. He loved every second of this and he didn’t want it to ever stop.

“Right, Choso..?” He loved how his name sounded in yn’s mouth, he let out a slutty moan and smiled as best as he could.

“Mm..hm..~!” yn smirked and began to kiss Choso’s shoulder and back.

“Such a good little slut..” yn felt himself get close and stuttered in his thrusts.

Choso felt his second orgasm nearing, he gripped the sheets and stuck his tongue out, rolling his eyes back.

“You’re all mine…my stupid toy..just for me to fuck, m…mkay..~?” Yn said into Choso’s ears pushing him over the edge.

“Mhnn-!!” Choso bit his tongue as he came one more time making a mess of his sheets. A smile creeped on his face at the feeling of yn’s hot semen coat his warm mushy walls in white.

They were both catching their breaths and yn sat up and slick his hair back looking at the art he ..

“……I…I’m sorry, cho’…” He pulled out and turned Choso on his back who just looked at him. Choso had drool and tear stains on his face, his lips red from biting them.

“I’m…so sorry..” The regret sitting in the pit of yn’s stomach. It quickly left when Choso pulled him down by his neck into a warm embrace.

“..’m your stupid toy…” Choso whispered smiling to himself. He didn’t regret this.

Yn sighed and returned the hug.

“..sure”

a/n ; I’ve always hated anything like step cest or inc*st it’s yuck but idk Choso being so big brother n shi kinda possessed me into writing this sorry xx

[ellsarchive]

Ken Sato HC’s (extremely random) *.• (sfw)

Writing this instead of part two of starcrossed 😭

Calls you “doll.” It started off sarcastic, like when he was teasing you or something of the sort. It soon became an unironic part of his vocabulary, now a common name between you two.

Speaking of pet names, also calls you “baby.”

PDA guy, but lowkey. Like an arm around you or a hand on your lower back, subtle claims and displays to show you off.

(Someone else said this and it was too true not to repeat) He bites. Whether that means nibbling your skin playfully or sinking his teeth into you is up to your interpretation.

Sometimes he leans down to hear you better, to kiss you, etc. and his dog tags hang in your face.

Refers to you as “my girl” in interviews and when telling people about you

Takes a long time for him to feel like he can show emotion around you. It took countless reassurances and a lot of love, but strangely enough, he finds comfort in knowing you’ve seen that side of him. You saw it and still stayed.

The type to dance with you in the living room to disgustingly sappy music (even when your laughter is much louder than the song)

Listener.

Unless he has something important, you will never catch this man in something other than sweats or his baseball uniform.

Knows he’s attractive, but doesn’t try too hard to seem so. He knows certain things he does are attractive and he does them, but doesn’t try to make them attractive, you know?

The cocky act isn’t ENTIRELY a front. Of course it’s mostly a show for the fans, but he’s a sarcastic man at heart.

No minute goes by that he doesn’t have a snarky comment

Except for when he’s with you.

He’s nicer when he’s with you.

Low spice tolerance (America did its number on him)

Likes to watch projections of his old life with you, pointing out little details and meanings behind things that couldn’t be seen. He loves teaching you about who he was before you.

So clingy when he’s tired. If you try to get out of bed it feels like you have chains holding you in your place. His determination is almost terrifying. Also much less sarcastic, his most sincere words have been spoken when he’s half asleep.

Speaking of which, the first time he told you he loved you was when you were cuddled up, falling asleep. He let it slip without realizing, his eyes shutting the moment he said it. His last memory of that night is your faint voice saying “I love you” as his dreams took over.

Will DESTROY a carton of milk in the middle of the night if he’s thirsty (he usually only uses it for cereal)

Likes to binge TV shows with you when he gets the chance. What’s a better way to spend a rainy day than to be lazy and escape from this world with the person he loves most?

Had a dog growing up

Nothing is safe from the heinous amounts of soy sauce he puts on his food. One bite would kill a Victorian child

Was actually really nervous about being in a committed relationship. Luckily, you being his saviour, helped him every step of the way. He’s changed so many ways since meeting you, one of them being the absence of the walls he had built.

Puts a hand on the back of your neck when he hugs you

Car guy (as hinted by his collection of cars in the movie)

Sometimes falls asleep on your chest, body in between your legs, and wakes up having no idea where he is.

Wishes he had more pictures of you, but always forgets to take them.

Always wins his games when you come to them. Seeing you in the stands is the highlight of the game, not the win.

MEAN side eye. Could kill a man with ts

Is 100% sure that he’ll never love another the way he loves you. He’s certain.

Thinks of you when he sees corny romance movies

Was genuinely surprised when you first told him you loved him (when he was awake this time). When he realized how real it all was, he was confused. He didn’t know someone could see all the bad parts of him and still really, really love him.

Once he got over the doubt, he was proud.

Felt pathetic when he first realized how much he loved you. The way he couldn’t get you out of his head was unfamiliar, and your effect on him was so much more than anyone else has had. It frustrated him to no end.

Loves trying new food places with you

Sometimes jumps a little when he sees you out of the corner of his eye, someone else in his house so often still new to him.

Doesn’t cry easily

Cried while watching titanic with his mom when he was little

[moondirti]

anal on the beach w/ gaz. a spiritual continuation of that one cbf! dry humping blurb i wrote but can be read separately

kinda dubcon. anal (obviously). manipulation. semi-public sex (no one catches you). gn! reader

he texts you that he’s got an extra ticket to fiji. the message is brief, spontaneous like he tends to be. pack your bags. eta 1420. you planned on rotting home all weekend, already in your pyjamas and hair care, looking every bit a wreck as you feel. it isn’t exactly the opportune time for him to come by; though you know mentioning it won’t do anything to change the fact that he will.

frankly, the whole thing reeks of that kyle-specific class of manoeuvring you’ve come to know in recent. catching you off guard with something you can’t say no to, and using it to push you past what you’re comfortable with. you’re tempted to refuse. it’s too short a notice. pick someone else. but a week long beach trip sounds nice, actually. work has been killing you. your personal life’s a mess. every date you’ve managed to snag in the past month has ghosted you. and to top it all off, you miss your best friend – his odd quirks and all.

so your body’s way of protesting is to slip off the couch, refocusing on the effort it takes to haul your luggage out of storage rather than your several woes. by the time kyle comes by, you’re in a sweatsuit and sneakers, bag stuffed with all the swimsuits you’ve owned since high school; you doubt you’ll have time to wash one between swims.

and it’s nice. you sit next to one another on the plane, syncing your movies by counting down to three. yours is always a few seconds behind, but he waits for your reactions before delving into a spiel about how realistic it is to drive a knife into someone’s throat with just your teeth, à la dev patel. you listen, swinging off every word he says into your own conversations, and it goes that way until the old lady two rows back shushes you. you, specifically, seeing as kyle charmed her into deference when he helped her lift her bags in the overhead compartments. always so considerate.

still, you’re concerned about falling asleep next to him, lest you wake to find a hand kneading your inner thigh.

nothing weird happens, though. you touch down in fiji and check into a lagoon resort (we managed to find you that king room, mr. garrick – the receptionist adds with a smile, eclipsing the weary way you regard sharing one bed. but you’ve had your fair share of cramped family vacations, and are well-versed in the subtle art of pillow walls to keep his side and yours separate.) that first night, he gives you an hour to dress up for dinner reservations while he fetches snacks for the room. make it pretty, yeah? we’re meeting a few distant cousins f’mine. i told them we’re dating to keep the work questions off my back.

nothing weird happens. until—

you take a boat out to Fulaga after citing it as one of the least populous islands. with wisps of white sand, like baker’s flour beneath your feet, and limestone islets across electric blue waters, it’s hard to see why.

no matter to either of you. you lay your towel on flat patch of sand, smothering yourself in sunscreen to play a game of chicken and waves. a vain endeavour, of course. he’s always willing swim out further than you, diving under quivering waters to arch amongst sea turtles and ulavi.

eventually, you grow bored of watching him from the shore, ambling back to your set-up to make use of the oils you bought for an exorbitant price. they lacquer over your skin, the places you can reach, to reflect the light overhead. you recall a quote you read in uni as you slather – something about people broiling themselves as though they were nothing but cuts of meat – and falter for just a moment. it had seemed crude at the time, particularly in the context in which it read, but as you prep yourself for the sun, you can’t help but feel exposed. vulnerable. like predatory eyes are tuned in all around you, peeking from the foliage, the waves, and honed on your slippery flesh.

you tell yourself you’re being silly, and spread yourself back on your towel. the heat licks away at your worries, making good work of laving the salty stress off your neck. you measure time in how long it takes for the sand to flake off your feet, drying as the rest of you does.

when the soft stretch of your stomach starts to burn, you turn yourself over and bury your cheek into the fibres cradling you. sun-drunk, chafed, bruised a little from the choppy waters, you welcome sleep when it inches on your conscious.

“and what are you doing exactly?” kyle huffs, encroaching on your sanctuary. you can’t see him, though you can almost hear the water vaporising off his dark skin. sizzling. the heat sinks into your side once he flops down onto his own towel.

“sunbathing.” you mumble, reluctant to give more than a words response lest it shakes you out of languor.

“the water’s great. you’re missing out.”

“mm. later.”

“and what am i supposed to do?” he all but whines, tugging at the complicated strings that tie your bottoms up on your hips. it doesn’t feel as suggestive as it might be. all you can manage, in the wake of your scoured unease, is annoyance.

“read. dig. sleep.”

he doesn’t take to your advice, shuffling until his knee presses into your arm. “you missed a spot on your back.”

“get it, then.”

“where’s the lube?”

your head snaps up, eyes narrowed both to adjust to the brightness and in admonishment. “oil.”

“same difference.” his grin is wicked, white and impossible to upbraid. rolling your eyes, you settle back down, face turned the other way around to keep an eye on him.

“in my bag.”

he shuffles through your stuff until he comes up with the hot pink bottle, making no stop for confirmation before he squirts the contents over his hands. they feel every bit as big as they look when they press into your back, right below your nape. rough, barnacled with callouses, but softened a bit by the ointment so it doesn’t hurt when his thumbs run circles around your shoulder blades. you sound an appreciative moan.

“say, if you’re short on something to do, y’can always massage me.”

“yeah, yeah. doubt you’ll return the favour.”

“i would... later.”

he laughs. “whatever. isn’t what i want, anyway.”

“and what do you want?” you ask. not because you’re curious – but so long as entertaining him keeps his efforts on your sore muscles, you’ll keep at it.

“oh, y’know.” kyle hums. ambiguous. you don’t know, not really. not until one caress strays lower than it should, conforming to the rounded shape of your ass. your cheeks clench with the sudden touch. he takes it as confirmation that you must want the same thing, too. “these bottoms aren’t leaving much to the imagination, mate.”

“th-they’re old.”

“this pert thing is practically eating them. can’t see fabric anymore.” he squeezes the fat there, shaking it in a vice grip that doesn’t so much as allow you to sit up, to knock his assault off. “want me to look for it?”

“kyle–”

“kyle.” he mocks, snickering. your hesitation does nothing to dissuade him. instead, he rocks up to straddle your legs, hands moving away from your back to settle below the curve of your ass. you don’t know what’s hotter – the damp, sun-bleached sand cushioning you, or the way he spreads either cheek apart, groaning when your swim-suit slips to expose the tight rim under it. “fuck. you been hiding this from me?”

“i- i don’t… please don’t be w-weird about this.”

“dunno what you mean by that.” he says, then promptly proceeds to be weird about it as his knuckle grazes your hole. you’re stiff, printing an indelible mark on beach. “never had it touched before?”

“no. i’m not a freak.”

“ouch, darl.” but he’s already spurting a hefty amount of oil onto you, working it in with a thick thumb. effectively makes good on his stupid name for it; lubes you up, nice and slick, so the only pain that arises at his intrusion is the virgin stretch. “promise it feels good.”

and you hate to admit it, but it does. once you get over the foreign sensation of his finger pistoning where you’ve never been fucked before, it stirs a tumultuous heat in your belly. part of it, you think, isn’t so much the physical sensation as it is the taboo of it all. despite the beach being virtually empty, void of any life but hermit crabs and the two debauched humans at its centre, there’s a delicious thrill that curls with the risk of being caught. not only being conventionally raunchy, but having your ass gaped by your best friend. what a sight you must make, pinned to the ground, having your sense pared off you in slow, painstaking layers.

one finger becomes two, and two soon turns to three.

the sound is so lewd, borderline disgusting when set against the natural ambience. you squelch and suck around him, lube smacking between your nates. and you lament it in slow, drawn-out breaths. embarrassed, wailing, soughing with the briny wind. kyle’s determined to get you ready for something much bigger, it seems, because four digits cram into your hole and scissor apart.

“is that re- really necessary?” you pick your sand- dusted face off the towel to huff into the thick air.

you feel him jostle atop your legs. shrugging, likely, in that deferent way he does when he realises acquiescence will better serve his purpose.

“whatever you want, mate.” there’s the sound of wet fabric scratching against itself, his trunks shucked down to rest mid-thigh. “i was getting impatient, anyway.”

if the excitement in his tone isn’t enough of a forewarning, he soon makes you regret saying anything at all when he notches his cock against you. it’s fat even at the end, the head too hefty to fit between your spread cheeks. it slips as it searches for purchase, rubbing against the excess lube he pours for aid, before pushing in. not in one fell swoop, but with five short, strong thrusts to finally anchor into your asshole.

you squeal, grasping behind you, onto his wrists for stability. you feel capsized, heeled over, thrown off kilter. shells and sparkling horizons dot the backs of your eyelids, liquid pleasure coursing through your veins. nothing about it is romantic, momentous like firsts should be. rather, you liken it to soap scum. spume. salt crusted hair. natural conclusions to things you overlook.

“s’fuckin’ tight, soft. can’t breath when you squee-eeze me like th-that. loosen up… up, mate.”

“k-kyle. fuck. ah! i c-can’t, you’re so… yersobig.”

“tried, didn’t i? b’you wanted to complain. next time i’ll make you t-take it dry… teach you how to count your, your blessings.”

and that turn of phrase – next time – is what sticks as he thrusts into you. not the implication that it’ll be painful, or that he intends to punish you for whatever it is you did wrong – but that this isn’t the last incident of its kind.

you had excused his homecoming – that first time he rushed you with a hug and came in his pants – as incidental, weeks of pent up energy. you try to excuse this – this, taking your ass on a vacation he probably booked precisely for the two of you – even while it unfolds, searching for justification in the distance between here and home.

but you’re not stupid. what becomes increasingly clear, as kyle fixes your waist in place and cants your hips higher, balls slapping your greased thighs, tightening with his looming orgasm, is that this was never meant to be a one time thing.

(won’t be, if he has any say in it.)

you resolve to think about it later. later; the coil in your stomach ripping a blinding release.

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i��ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[swampjawn]

What happens when you let a film nerd make an anime?

Fuuga Yamashiro (山代風我) joined Science Saru in 2017 as an Assistant Production Manager during production of "Night Is Short, Walk on Girl." He was essentially Studio Co-founder Masaaki Yuasa's secretary, but he worked his way up to assistant director on "Keep Your Hands off Eizouken" and finally got to direct his own first full Anime series, Dandadan.

Having worked so closely with one of the greatest living auteur directors, you might think he would share that overpowering individual creative influence, but as he has pointed out in interviews himself, it's much the opposite.

Instead of relying on his own creative voice, which he doesn't seem confident about in interviews, he literally collects techniques from his favorite movies, breaking them down into storyboards and adding them to his arsenal to re-contextualize later. And as you may be able to tell from watching Dandadan, his biggest influences aren't anime and manga, but live action film -- something he seems to have studied obsessively.

And when you compare the anime to the original manga (which itself is already filled with references to old movies and TV) subtle adaptation choices make the deft application of techniques borrowed from other storytellers very clear. Every choice is made for a reason and furthers the story being told in some way; nothing is there for no reason. like the simple, controlled camera pans and tilts that make the serpoian spaceship feel cold and sterile, or the crazywackysilly, un-predictable wide-angle camera movements that intrude on that cold sterile world when turbo granny shows up.

In one interview during the production of "Keep Your Hands off Eizouken" Yamashiro pulls out his notebook where he had collected all these techniques and gives an example:

"There's a technique called 'Dolly Zoom', which is a technique that changes the perspective of the background while keeping the size of the subject." […] "In 'Cult of Chucky,' which I saw recently, there is a scene in which a long passageway is filmed in telephoto, while a wheelchair moves forward. The character is 'getting closer, but the viewer feels farther away'. This is the kind of thing I collect." […] "I'd like to combine these things in various ways and do it in animation." (I took some liberties with this, the translation was pretty rough)

And sure enough, that exact same type of dolly zoom rears its head in Dandadan as Okarun sprints away from Turbo Granny and the mouth of the tunnel stretches impossibly into the distance.

It may seem counterintuitive to ascribe too much importance to the creative vision of one person who specifically talks about his own lack of strong creative vision, (and to be clear, he's far from the only person playing a major role) but I think it's precisely that encyclopedic knowledge of film techniques and that pragmatic, meticulous attitude that may have acted as a stabilizing force for Yuasa, and that also provides some needed structure to a ball of pure energy like Dandadan, while still preserving its essence and the eclectic influences that it wears on its sleeve.

Also, mad respect for using the seventh installment of the Child's Play franchise as your example of a dolly zoom instead of, like, Vertigo, Jaws, or Goodfellas.

This is just a sliver of what I talk about in this full video! A minuscule piece of the pie! Some tiny little crumbs for the peasants! So if you consider yourself worthy, go watch the whole video. I think it's good.

Uhh also reblog! I spent way too long on that intro animation, so I need it. Bad.

[strlvvr]

my best friend’s brother (is the one for me) - part two

part two!! i’m so excited for this series guys

word count: 945 words

read part one here !

⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ୭ৎ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

all i’ve been able to think about is the interaction between me and matt. the way he whispered in my ear, the hand on my back, the way he played with my hair, how he got up to “go to the bathroom”. i knew exactly why he had to get up. it was kinda hard to ignore honestly.

“i’m going to bed, you coming?” nick asked me as he was getting up and putting his blanket away.

“no, i’m not too tired yet,” i moved over on the couch a bit to grab my drink, trying to ignore matt’s stare.

“well i’m gonna go to my room for the night.” chris said, also putting away his blanket and grabbing his drink, heading down the stairs to his room.

me and matt stayed quiet for a couple more minutes, just watching whatever was on after the crow. 

“just us now…” matt said quietly, grabbing the remote to put something else on. he decided on inception, another one of my favorite movies, which he knew.

“2010 was leo’s best year for movies,” i moved to face matt to debate with him over this.

“oh yeah? and why’s that?” matt asked with a smile. this is a topic we discuss often.

“well he had inception AND shutter island come out that year. arguably two of his best movies.” he just watched as i ranted about leo dicaprio and just movies in general. chiming in with yeahs and acknowledgments, but letting me talk. i swear for a second, i almost saw a look of love in his eyes. 

i quickly dismissed the thought and let myself get lost in the movie after my rant. i moved over to back over to matt, missing the comfort of being in his arms. he gladly pulled me into him and we sat like that for most of the movie, only moving to grab more snacks or our drinks.  

as the movie started ending, i felt matt’s breathing get slower, subtle snores leaving his mouth. i looked around and saw the mess left by nick and chris and sighed, knowing we had to clean it up. i started to get up to get a start on the cleaning, but matt, half asleep, pulled me back down, mumbling something i didn’t quite hear. 

“mmm stay here.” he grumbled, tightening his grip on my waist.

“matt, we have to clean up the garbage..” i whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear me and let go. unfortunately he did and loosened his grip, letting me get up. he slowly got up, grabbing the candy wrappers around him and followed me towards the kitchen.

“nick’s probably asleep already.” he pointed out, grabbing more garbage from the table. 

“yeah..” i put away our blankets and fixed up the couch.

“you can always come sleep with me.” he said quietly, watching me walk around the living room to find the remote. “it’s over there,” he pointed to where we had just been sitting. 

i chuckled, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off. 

“i think i might take you up on the offer,” i said, searching for any sign of regret on his face, finding none.

he put the last piece of garbage away and started walking to his room, stopping and looking back to see if i was following him. once i grabbed our phones, i headed toward him and his room.

no matter how many times i’ve slept in here, it always feels awkward at first. he always points out how i sleep better in his bed, and i always blame it on how comfy his bed is, even though it has nothing to do with his bed but everything to do with him. 

he walked over to the bed, pulling back the blankets and getting in. i stayed put by the door, just watching him awkwardly.

“are you just gonna stand there all night?” he questioned me, pulling the blanket off the other side of the bed for me.

“i was thinking about it,” i walked over to my side and got in, immediately being met with the softness of his blanket and the smell of his cologne. i grabbed his remote to put on some random show. we debated on a couple before deciding on family guy. staying on our respected sides while intently watching the show we’ve both seen hundreds of times, not daring to move closer to each other. as if we weren’t just cuddling on the couch and falling asleep together out there. 

it was different in his bed though. almost like it was too intimate to cuddle in a bed. we wouldn’t dare take that step in our friendship, even if we would wake up like that anyway. the more tired i got, the less i cared. i moved closer to him, feeling him do the same. he put his arm out, signaling for me to lay on him. none of us said anything, we stayed watching the tv. there was an understanding between us that it was a comfortable silence.

‘this is normal, there’s nothing deeper to this. just two friends cuddling and watching tv.’ i thought, feeling him play with my hair and rub the leg i snuck onto him. i was trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach with every move of his thumb on my thigh and pushing away all the thoughts that snuck into my mind. 

slowly i started to fall asleep in matt’s arms. right before i fell asleep, i felt him reach for the remote to turn off his tv.

“goodnight baby.” he whispered, before kissing the top of my head and falling asleep himself.

tag list:

@beersangel @whoseyouare @wh0schl0 @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt @h3arts4harry

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 1

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The first time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — on set, with lots of paint involved.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

Tag List: let me know if you want to join! :)​

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of what I hope will be a six-part series, but it can be read as a stand-alone too. I am so obsessed with Colt right now that I can't even see straight, so just take this and do whatever you want with it!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The first time Colt Seavers almost kisses you, you’re not sure it actually happened.

You’ve been on set for about two months now, and your job as set decorator for the biggest action thriller of the decade has ended up being way more challenging than you expected. Every day, it’s a new demand from the director — more realistic graffiti, more subtle light fixtures, more beat-up furniture. It’s going to look amazing, but you’re exhausted just thinking about another day of smearing grime on the set walls by hand.

The one bright spot of every day is Colt Seavers. He’s the best stuntman in Hollywood, so naturally he’s been recruited to perform stunts for almost every scene in the movie. Watching him get thrown against walls, riddled with bullets, and dropped from dizzying heights is heart-pounding for you, but nothing gets your heart pounding as hard as when he leans a little too close to you, so close you can see the dusty brown of his eyelashes against his soot-stained skin.

“Nice sign,” Colt quips, dropping onto the picnic table seat next to you. You’re hand-painting a bright-red Do Not Disturb sign for the next scene, and you barely manage to keep from smearing the paint when you whirl to face him. “Is it for your trailer door?”

You give him a mock glare, laughter slipping through the edges. “Very funny. It just so happens that you’ll be kicking this sign in half in tomorrow’s scene, so show a little respect.”

Colt’s eyes sparkle at your words, all his attention focused on you. He leans forward on one elbow, the other reaching up to ruffle the dust out of his hair. “Wow, a handmade prop just for me to kick in half?” He grins, inclining his head in a mock bow. “I’m honored.”

You can’t hide your return grin, or the blush rising under your skin at his close proximity. Colt always has this effect on you — never pushing the limits to make you uncomfortable, just taking up space with you in a way that steals your breath.

“What’s this?” you ask, using your free hand to tug on the shoulder of his fireproof vest. One side is seriously singed, close enough to his skin to set you to worrying.

Colt shrugs, flashing you a crooked smile that makes his left eye crinkle. “Little pyrotechnics mishap,” he informs you casually, brushing imaginary dust off his arm and onto you. You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Ray got a little overexcited with the stun grenades.”

“What?” You can’t keep the concern from slipping into your voice, even though you try to disguise it behind a joking tone. “You’re working with real stun grenades now?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “It’s only a stunt if it’s real, you know?”

You narrow your eyes, cocking your head to one side. “I think that’s the opposite of how it works, actually.”

Colt just laughs at that, the golden rays of the setting sun turning his tanned skin golden. His smile is warm and directed entirely at you, heating up the blush in your cheeks again. You turn your eyes back to your painting to keep from completely giving yourself away.

These past few months have been both paradise and torture for you. You thought you could hide your crush easily enough — it’s not like you haven’t done that before. But with Colt, it’s different. He sees through your stoic facades and teases out your laughter, searches for ways to make you smile even on your bad days. Whether it’s pulling a goofy face at you from his rig or remembering that you like sour cream in your soup, Colt has found some new way to surprise you every day that you’ve known him.

The thing is, you’re not sure if he’s actually interested in you or just being flirtatious. Misinterpreting the signals would be awkward and painful for you at this point, so you’ve decided that he’s just going to have to make the first move. You’re too old to play middle-school games with him.

Even if he does give you middle-school butterflies all over again.

You don’t realize that you’ve been lost in your thoughts until you notice that Colt has imperceptibly moved closer to your side, peering over your shoulder as you put the finishing touches on the purposely-sloppy sign.

“So I kick the sign in half tomorrow,” he says softly, his husky voice in your ear sending goosebumps over your skin. “What happens if we have to do another take?”

You risk a glance over your shoulder at him, letting a coy smile slip. “Do you really think this is the only one I’ve done?”

Colt just lifts his eyebrows at you and smiles, returning his eyes to the sign in your hands. Colt has a way of burning you up just with his gaze, and you can’t help breathing an inner sigh of relief every time he focuses his attention elsewhere. Concentrating on anything when he’s looking at you is impossible.

“You know, I could definitely give you some pointers on set design sometime,” he mutters, as if he’s genuinely musing on the thought. You know he’s warming up for a joke, so you let him continue, hiding your smile while he watches over your shoulder. “I have tons of experience in your department.”

“Oh, really?” You grab your black paint and begin the focused task of sprinkling the sign with the darker color for a realistic touch. Realism is the key to making memorable set designs, and you’ve mastered the technique.

“Mm-hmm.” You feel the murmur reverberate in his throat when he leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder while you lightly dab your paintbrush in your paint bottle. Your heart skips at least three beats when you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck, his eyes still locked on the sign as if he’s studying it. Does he really not know what he’s doing to you, or is he doing it on purpose?

You try to keep your hands steady while you feel his chest rise and fall against your shoulder. Struggling to hide the tremor in your voice, you tease, “What could I improve about this piece, then? I can always use an expert opinion.”

He tilts his head to the side, his chin still resting on your shoulder. You can feel the bristly stubble on his cheeks now. It’s an oddly comforting sensation, one that forces every bit of your self-control to the brink in order to keep yourself from moving your face to the side and nuzzling your cheek against his. You feel his face move slightly as his mouth turns up into a smile.

“If you really want some advice…” he begins, lifting one hand up to trace the edge of your sign.

“Careful,” you warn him, “that’s wet paint.”

Colt doesn’t even get close to smudging your paint, but that doesn’t stop you from lifting your free hand to rest on his wrist, holding it in place while you set your paint bottle down. Colt stills at your touch, and your heart accelerates again at the gentle way his fingertips rest on the edge of your sign.

He lets the moment hang in the air between you for a moment, then comments, “I was just going to suggest a nice artist’s signature. See this big gap right here between Not and Disturb? Your name should go there in big red letters.” You’re already swatting his hand away playfully as his serious tone devolves into snickers. “Just like Bob Ross does on TV.”

“You are so ridiculous,” you laugh, glad to feel the tension slipping out of the atmosphere. Colt lifts his chin off your shoulder now, his hair brushing your earlobe as he does.

“No, it would look perfect,” he insists, his eyes sparkling as his smirk widens. “And then I can aim right for your name when I kick it in half tomorrow.”

He laughs out loud when you slam the sign down on the picnic table surface in mock irritation, your grin making your amusement at his joke obvious. The slam sends a few drops of the black paint from your brush flying up, spattering your jawline.

You reach for a dry rag nearby, still grinning as you prepare to respond, but Colt stops you with a hand on your arm. “Allow me,” he says seriously, placing your hand back into your lap and raising his other hand to the side of your face. You freeze in place, unprepared for the wave of emotion that washes over you when Colt touches the side of your jaw softly.

His eyes are still sparkling with humor, and you know he’s about to do something to make you laugh, but you can’t help the feeling that sweeps through your heart when you’re face to face with him, one of his hands holding yours on your lap and the other just beginning to cradle your face. It feels so gentle, so intimate, so right, and your heart aches as you realize that there is no going back from the feelings you’re developing for Colt Seavers.

He hesitates for a split second, his hand hoving on your jaw for practically no time at all, but it feels like a lifetime to you. You watch his dark blue eyes as they dart down to look at your lips, flitting back up just as quickly to latch onto your eyes with a stare that could melt diamonds.

Then the corner of his mouth turns up again into his usual smirk, and he strokes his thumb across your jaw to smear the black paint up the side of your face.

“Now,” he offers, “don’t you think you look more realistic?”

He dissolves into laughter as you reach up and feel the streaks of black now smudged across your face. You immediately reach past him to dip your fingers in your bottle of red paint, giving him a mischievous grin as you slather three fingers’ worth of paint across his nose and cheeks. The combination of his semi-shocked expression and the ridiculousness of his painted face pushes you over the edge into another fit of laughter.

“You’re the one who will be on camera,” you retort, smiling wider than you can remember doing in a long time. “Shouldn’t you be the one who’s realistic?”

“Touché,” he acknowledges playfully, rubbing his face and only succeeded in smearing the red paint further across his face. “Though I doubt Tom Ryder is going to accept any glimpses of my face on camera, so I won’t even have to wash this off.”

You impulsively reach up and drag your fingertip through the splotch of paint on his cheek, resisting the urge to draw a heart and settling on a simple smiley face instead. His own smile resurfaces at that, eyes twinkling as they stay locked on yours.

“If you keep it until tomorrow, you’ll match my sign,” you muse, trying to lighten the atmosphere, which has suddenly grown a bit more intense now that Colt’s gaze is focused on you again.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t play it off, doesn’t do anything that you expect from him. His breathing seems to slow down, while yours feels like it takes off in a flurry of movement. Colt doesn’t make a move to touch you, but you can feel the distance between the two of you closing infinitesimally.

You’ve never noticed the flecks of silver-gray in his eyes, or the almost-invisible smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, or the ragged cut of his hair right beside his ears. Even the brilliant red streak only serves to bring out the golden tones of his skin, the swirls of blonde in his hair. Every detail of his face seems vivid, as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

His eyes seem to drink you in, too, traveling over every inch of your face before stopping on your lips again. This time, though, he doesn’t flick his eyes back up. Words escape you, as do any coherent thoughts. This is it. He’s actually going to kiss me. This is real.

“Seavers, on set, ASAP.”

The squawk of his walkie-talkie shatters the intense moment, and both of you release a breath that felt like it had been held for an hour. Colt swallows, smoothes his hand over his beard, turns to slip the walkie back into his pocket. You turn back to your painted sign quickly, trying to regain some composure.

Uncharacteristically, Colt doesn’t speak as he stands and turns to walk back to the filming set. He does, however, glance back at you the moment you lift your eyes to watch him walk away. Your heart is still hammering, recovering from his closeness to you.

With a wordless smile, he reaches up, swipes a bit of red paint off his face, and presses it onto the tip of your nose in the shape of his fingerprint. Then he walks away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Part 2

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 12. the trial pt.1

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Madeline preps you for the first day of the trial and shares a surprise witness being called to Patrick's defense, and Patrick requests to speak to you unexpectedly.

Chapter Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), phone sex, m and f masturbation, dirty talk, mother issues (could be perceived as parental emotional abuse, and probably is), possessive!joel, recounting of previous DV and SA

WC: 7.2K

A/N: If anything in this chapter jumps out as you like 'I don't think that's how the law works', just move past it. I had Google and a dream.

Series Masterlist

The flickering florescent lights from the grocery store were starting to give you a headache as you slowly made your way up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to grab a bag of chips or some mac and cheese. It was late. The store was quiet. You were supposed to be buying things to keep in your hotel room when you got to Austin, but you could hardly focus. You had the weekend to pack, buy supplies, and check into your room before meeting with Madeline on Monday. She was planning on using most of the day to prepare you for the trial, which was scheduled to start first thing Tuesday morning, and your nerves were a mess. And to make matters worse, Joel wouldn't be able to get to Austin until the morning of the trial.

The one silver lining was your divorce. Madeline felt confident after speaking to his lawyer that Patrick would be signing the papers this week. The cynical part of you wondered if there was a catch because Patrick was never one to take things lying down, but you tried to push it out of your mind. Instead, you focused on the variety of microwavable popcorn in front of you. Butter, lightly salted, movie theater... would you even notice much of a difference? You stepped forward to grab the first box you saw when another person unexpectedly walked right into you. You had been so lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even hear someone else coming down the aisle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you began. When you looked up to meet their eyes, the polite smile you had forced across your face immediately fell.

"Nikki, hi," you said, taking a small step back towards your cart. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention."

She tossed you a thin smile and not so subtly eyed you up and down.

"Haven't seen you in a while. Read anything good recently?" she asked icily, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Not really. I haven't had much time," you told her, averting your gaze down the empty aisle.

"Oh, that's right. I heard you're getting a divorce," she said with a little pout, and you nodded as the heat began to creep up your chest. "Gotta make sure all those papers are signed before you go jumping into someone else's bed, right?"

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, lips parting in surprise. You thought she would have been a little more subtle than that.

"I hope you at least made sure he was worth it before leaving your husband for him, because woman to woman, I gotta warn you... it's nothing to write home about," she told you with a wink. You frowned and took another step back.

"I'm not leaving my husband because of Joel-"

"Oh, no, of course not!" she said cheerily.

"N-no, really, nothing's going on-"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she whispered, giving you one more fake smile before turning on her heel and waltzing down the aisle, leaving you in shock.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered to yourself as you absentmindedly rubbed your eyes. Angrily, you reached out and snatched the box of popcorn before turning your cart in the opposite direction.

You hated the idea of someone in this small town having it out for you. She had been swaying the entire female population to turn on you just because she went on a couple dates with Joel and she figured out he had feelings for you, which was hardly your fault. But you thanked your lucky stars she didn't seem to know just how close you and Joel really were, because if she did, there was no doubt in your mind she would have spread that news like wildfire.

Impulsivity won and you swung your cart down the candy aisle, throwing far too many items into your basket.

To hell with Nikki. She had no idea what you were going through and you didn't have time for her high-school bullshit, so you forced yourself to move past it. Besides, you had much more important things to worry about. Like if you should buy Reese's or Snickers.

"I hate all my clothes."

"C'mon, they can't be that bad," Joel's voice filtered through your phone. You tapped the speakerphone button and dropped it onto your bed in order to free up both your hands, then held up two ugly blouses against your chest while you looked in the mirror.

"They really are," you told him, scrunching up your nose. "But Madeline told me if I wore stuff like this, it would look more sympathetic to a jury. Like I'm some poor, modest housewife in need of saving," you said with a roll of your eyes.

"Well, if Maddy told you to wear somethin' specific, you should listen to her. She knows what she's doin'. I've known her a long time, this isn't her first rodeo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumbled, picking up a couple of skirts that, in your opinion, were far too long and didn't make you feel very confident.

"You look beautiful in anything," he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.

"Thanks, but you're biased," you teased, and you heard a soft chuckle float through the speaker.

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. There was a small pause as you continued to sift through your clothes, then he asked, "are you tryin' anythin' on right now?"

"No, once at the store was plenty," you huffed, then began folding the skirts up to place them in the bottom of your suitcase.

There was another pause before he spoke again.

"Then what are you wearin'?"

Your hands stilled and you sucked in a breath when you finally realized what he had been hinting at the past few minutes. Glancing down, you grimaced at your favorite pair of stained sweatpants and a tank top that had fraying straps, but you refused to throw it away because it made you feel skinny.

"A tank top," you finally answered, leaving out the part about your ratty old sweatpants.

"Mm, the white one?"

"Yes," you replied, your pulse already thrumming steadily in your throat at the line of questioning.

"Wish I was there with you," he said, his voice low just in case Sarah could hear from her bedroom. "I can see right through that top, drives me fuckin' crazy."

Glancing in the mirror, you realized he was right. You could see the outline of your nipples clear as day in the right lighting.

"Joel, is this a good idea?" you asked, but found yourself flopping down on your bed anyway next to your phone, your fingers dancing at your waistband.

"You're stressed, right?" he asked, his voice a little breathless now and you knew he must have been stroking himself. You've done this dance too many times.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Lemme help you relax, then."

You chewed on your lower lip as you stared up at your ceiling. You knew doing this with him complicated things and you were supposed to be able to take the stand in a few days and honestly say you weren't in a relationship with Joel, but the lines were too blurred and at this point, you had no idea how you would answer that question.

Then again, what difference would one more time make?

"Okay."

"Good girl," he murmured, and you felt yourself flutter at the praise. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm laying in bed," you told him, closing your eyes so you could focus just on his voice.

"And are you touchin' yourself?"

"No," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I want to." You heard him utter a soft groan.

"Go ahead. Just one finger and I want you to tell me how wet you are."

Slipping your hand under your waistband, you did as you were told, choosing the tip of your middle finger to slide through your folds and prod gently at your entrance.

"So wet," you murmured, then teased yourself again, collecting the arousal pooling there. "All wet because of you, Joel," you added breathily.

"Fuck, I wish I was there," he whispered again, and you slowly pushed your middle finger inside with a moan.

"W-what would you do?" you stammered as you felt the tension begin to build, a warm heat sparking low in your belly.

"I'd taste you first," he said lowly. "Only got to do it once, been dreamin' of doin' it again. You taste so fuckin' good, d'ya know that?" His accent deepened the more aroused he became, and it made your heart skip a beat.

"You're really good at it," you mumbled into the phone, your finger curling inside you, that one spot just out of reach.

"Tell me how much you liked it," he rasped, and a little groan slipped past your lips, your finger still pumping in and out.

"Loved it," you moaned, and you heard his heavy breathing now as he listened to you intently. "F-felt so good. God, that tongue... my thighs burned the next day from your beard. Felt it all night at work... thought about you s-so much. Fuck, Joel, I need more," you whined, your back arching pathetically.

"Add another finger and play with your clit, baby," he whispered, and you thought you could hear him fucking his fist on the other end, but his heavy pants drowned out the noise. You did as he said, gasping in relief at the extra stimulation while your legs began to shake.

"Joel-" you whimpered, but he cut you off.

"When this is all over, I'm gonna wake you up every mornin' with my mouth between your legs," he said with a grunt. "Would'ya like that? Hm? You want my tongue inside that tight little pussy? Want me to suck on your clit til you can't remember your name?"

"Oh, fuck, Joel, I-I think I'm gonna come," you cried out softly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your finger rubbed fast little circles over your clit, your hips rocking against the heel of your hand as you chased your release.

"Go ahead, lemme hear you. Say my name, baby," he panted, his voice cracking, and you knew he was close. "Tell me - shit - tell me I'm the only man who's ever made you come."

And you did just that.

You fell over the edge, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over as you soaked your own hand, and once you got your bearings, you moaned about how good he made you feel, how no one else could ever compare, how you couldn't wait until he was in your bed again because your own fingers no longer satisfied you now that you've had him. You kept talking until you heard a sharp intake of breath and a low, muffled groan on the other end of the line, leaving each of you quietly panting for air.

"Feel better?" he asked after a few minutes, and even though he couldn't see you, you smirked.

"Yes," you whispered. You could hear him shifting around in his bed, his sheets bunching up and the springs on his mattress squeaked. "I miss you," you added sadly, thinking about the one night you got to sleep in his bed. How comfortable you felt. How at ease it made you feel, and he wasn't even in the bed with you. Just being around him was all it took.

"Me, too. We're so close, baby. Just a few more days. A week, tops."

His words instilled a newfound vigor in you. The fear and anxiety you felt about the trial temporarily disappeared and instead, you felt powerful. In charge. Confident. And eager to take your life back.

Monday

"Have you heard from any of the other women?" you asked Madeline hopefully, and she gave you a quick shake of her head.

"Not yet. I'm sorry," she replied, knowing you were all crossing your fingers that some of the women Joel talked to in Philadelphia would change their minds and come forward, but as hard as he tried to convince them, they were all too scared to say something, putting you back at square one. He had high hopes for one girl in particular, Nina, but so far she had refused to answer his or Madeline's calls and time was running out. "Don't worry, hun. We still have all the evidence on our side. We have the medical records, I can prove years of abuse with that and testimony from the people you put us in contact with. I am confident we will win, regardless of the other victims," she told you, looking you dead in the eye, and you believed her.

"Okay," you replied, taking a deep breath and nodding your head. "And again, I'm sorry I couldn't get anywhere with my mom. Do you think we'll still do okay without her?"

Madeline sat back in her chair and slid her glasses off, holding them gently in her hands while giving you a look across her desk that made your stomach twist.

She had bad news.

"We would do just fine without her, but I found out this morning that she was subpoenaed by the defense."

You stared at her, not quite understanding what you were hearing.

"What does that mean?" you finally asked, and although you had an idea, you needed her to say it.

"She agreed to speak on Patrick's behalf."

Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, refusing to allow your mother to cause you any more pain. Before you could say anything, Madeline spoke up again.

"Don't let it upset you. They might think they're making a power move, but I'll destroy her on the stand, mark my words. It will only help our case and paint the picture of a lifetime of abuse," she told you, putting her glasses back on before looking back down at the file in front of her. You hadn't ever considered your relationship with your mother as abusive before. You just assumed most girls had problems with their mothers growing up. But if she was willing to help your husband over her own daughter, essentially supporting everything Patrick has done to you, then 'abusive' was really the only word you could use at that point to describe your relationship.

"Okay, what else," you asked hurriedly, looking down at your hands folded on your lap.

"Well since we are already on the shitty news portion of the day, I do have one more thing I need to mention, and before I tell you, just know you can do absolutely whatever you want, okay? Do not feel pressured to go through with it-"

"Just say it," you told her, and she took a brief pause before continuing.

"Patrick asked to speak to you before the trial. He's holding the divorce papers as a hostage. Says he will sign them if you speak to him."

Your eyes shot up to meet hers in shock.

That was not something you were expecting to hear.

"W-why would he want to talk to me?" you stammered, and you could feel your heart beginning to pound louder in your chest, the fear and anxiety quickly taking hold yet again, just like it always did when it came to Patrick.

"My guess? He probably wants to convince you to drop the charges in exchange for a divorce. And that is something we are not going to do, understand me?" Madeline said, narrowing her eyes at you. "If my hunch is correct, he's scared. He knows he's going to lose and he is desperate. We do not need him to play nice here. I can get a judge to grant an annulment if he won't sign, it will just prolong everything a little more, but the end result will be the same."

The idea of your divorce taking even longer made your blood boil. You wanted to be with Joel. You wanted this to be over. It was only supposed to be a few more days... a week, tops.

Madeline could tell you were spiraling because she put her pen down and stood up from her chair.

"You don't have to talk to him. You are under no obligation to hear him out. We can just go through with everything the way we planned-"

"I'll talk to him," you said quietly.

"I have to give you my honest opinion here. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm not going to drop the charges, but... I don't know. Maybe I can convince him this is over. And if not, I'll just get up and leave," you told her firmly, and she examined you carefully before sighing.

"Alright. I'll contact his attorney and set something up in the morning. If you change your mind, you let me know. Night or day, five minutes before you walk into that room, it doesn't matter, okay? You don't have to do this."

"I know," you said, "I want to."

Madeline spent the rest of the day briefing you on what to expect for the trial. After opening statements, Madeline would argue your case with the evidence she collected and the witnesses she subpoenaed, then Patrick's lawyer would have the opportunity to cross examine and afterwards, it would be their turn to defend Patrick with their own witnesses before closing statements and deliberation. Madeline guessed the whole thing would take two or three days at the most, and that gave you some relief. No matter what happened, this would be over by the end of the week.

"I'll call you to the stand last," Madeline said. "It's best if your testimony is freshest for the jury, especially right before the defense states their case."

"Okay. And what do I do when I'm up there? Should I look at the jury or the judge, or just you?"

"Look wherever you feel comfortable, but don't offer any extra information outside of the question being asked. We'll rehearse the questions I'm going to ask before you leave today, and when it comes time for the defense to cross examine, give as little information as possible. Yes or no answers. And they'll try to get you upset - don't let them. That's important, okay?"

"Yes," you said with a nod. "I understand."

After you ran through the questions, Madeline sent you back to your hotel room with the list for you to review and practice on your own, but your head was pounding by the end of the day. Your eyes burned and your mind was racing and all you wanted to do was sleep, but your body wouldn't let you. You ended up pacing around your room and trying not to let your anxiety about seeing Patrick in the morning torment you. You had just found a mindless cooking competition show to put on to help distract you when your phone pinged next to you on the nightstand.

Joel: All ready for tomorrow?

You: I think so, but I'm nervous. Can't sleep.

Pausing for a moment, you added another text.

You: I'm meeting with Patrick in the morning before it starts.

It took less than two minutes for your phone to ring.

"What d'you mean? Why're you meetin' with him?" Joel's voice asked aggressively the moment you answered the call.

"He's holding out signing the papers until he speaks to me," you explained. "He says he'll sign them if I talk to him. I figured there's no harm, he can't hurt me-"

"No harm?!" Joel exclaimed, and you quickly stopped talking. "All he does is harm! The fuck are you thinkin'?" he asked, sounding less angry and more upset now.

"Madeline said it'll take longer to get a divorce if he refuses to sign. I just want this over with, Joel!" you said, your voice beginning to break. "I don't want to wait a few more weeks or months. I'm fucking done! And if listening to whatever he has to say for twenty minutes gets him to sign the goddamn papers, then I'll do it! Because I can't do this anymore!" you sobbed into the phone, the tears you fought to hold back all day finally coming to the surface.

"Okay, okay, calm down," he said soothingly, and you took a few shaky breaths in. He waited until your breathing steadied before speaking again. "What time are you supposed to see him?"

"8:30," you said, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

"Alright, I'll be there," he said. "Just in case. I wanna be there."

"You can't come in the room with me, Joel."

"You can't go in alone," he argued.

"Madeline said the conference room they booked has a door with a window. You can both watch from the hall."

He grumbled to himself on the other end and you waited, chewing on your lower lip nervously, for him to say something.

"One wrong move and I'm puttin' his head through the fuckin' wall," he muttered.

"That wouldn't exactly help your lawsuit," you reminded him.

"You let me worry 'bout that," he said, and you yawned. He must have heard you because his voice softened. "You gotta get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"I know," you replied, and although you felt like you wouldn't get much restful sleep, your eyelids were still getting heavy.

"I'll be there bright and early, alright? And I'm stayin' til it's over."

"What about Sarah?" you asked sleepily.

"She's stayin' at a friend's house. Couldn't be more excited about it. Practically kickin' me out," he said with a chuckle.

You laughed as you stared blankly at the TV, watching some poor girl cry when her crème brûlée burnt. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel bit his tongue on the other end of the call, holding back the words he really wanted to say but knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he said "good night, baby. See you in the mornin'."

Tuesday

As expected, you tossed and turned all night. It was clear as day when you caught your reflection in the mirror and winced at what you saw. The bags under your bloodshot eyes wouldn't be tamed by the concealer Maria bought you so long ago, but you tried your best, anyway. After picking out the least ugly shirt and skirt combination, you made sure your hair looked decent before taking a deep breath and stepping out the door of your hotel room.

The first step towards your freedom.

You were proud of yourself. You had actually managed to not let the nerves get to you until you entered the courthouse and saw Madeline tapping away on her phone, wearing a dark blue pantsuit and hair pulled back in a simple bun, with a black leather suitcase hung over her shoulder. She looked up when she heard you approach, giving your outfit a nod of approval before enveloping you in a quick hug.

"You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said, giving her a nervous smile. Your hands were beginning to shake as she walked you down a secluded hallway towards the conference room she had booked for your conversation with Patrick. You could feel your chest tighten with every step you took, but when you turned the corner and saw Joel leaning up against the wall in a brown suit with another man you didn't recognize but assumed was Patrick's lawyer, you instantly felt relief. When his eyes locked with yours and he gave you a small smile, you felt even calmer.

You could do this.

"Last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?" Madeline said next to you. Glancing through the window in the door, you saw Patrick sitting at the table in a rumpled jumpsuit, his handcuffed arms resting on the table as he stared down as his fingernails. You nodded and looked at Patrick's lawyer.

"Does he have the divorce papers, or do you?"

The lawyer gave you a polite smile before replying "I do, miss."

You nodded before taking a deep breath, and glancing at Joel one more time to remind yourself why you were doing this, you twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.

Patrick lifted his head up when you walked in and gave you half a smile, but you just shut the door behind you and walked to the other end of the table, as far away from him as you possibly could get, and sat down.

He stared down the table at you, giving you his most charming persona, the side he always brought out when he knew he had gone too far and wanted to make amends. You folded your hands calmly on the table and tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to speak. Minutes ticked by, inching closer and closer to your trial time as you waited, refusing to be the one who bent first.

"New clothes?" he finally asked, and you quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, looks like you got some new clothes, too."

You patted yourself on the back for the jab, but you didn't show a hint of the smugness you were feeling when you saw a quick scowl flit across his face.

"Alright," he said, leaning back in his hair and lifting his hands up in mock defeat. "You win."

"What did I win?" you said with a frown.

"This," he said, motioning between the two of you. "You want outta this so badly, fine. I'll sign the papers. I'll leave you alone."

"Great," you said, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

"You gotta drop these charges, though, baby. This shit could get me killed, you know that?"

"Don't call me baby."

He sat forward suddenly, making you flinch. "What the hell do you want me to call you, then?"

You took a steadying breath and glanced at the door, catching Joel's eye before looking back at Patrick.

"I'm not dropping the charges."

He shrugged and dropped his hands loudly on the table. "Then I ain't signing the papers."

You looked at Joel again. His lips were pressed in a thin line as he watched the two of you and you wondered if he could hear anything through the door.

"What about the charges against Joel? Would you let it go and sign if I dropped the charges?" you asked quietly, and that caught Patrick's interest. He smirked and folded his hands on the table.

"Oh, no. Can't do that. I got your boyfriend right where I want him. Got a rockstar witness that'll help me take him for all he's got. Hope that kid of his is smart, she's gonna need to get a scholarship for college. Daddy ain't gonna have two dimes to rub together when I'm done with him."

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared as you stared at Patrick across the table, doing your best to rein in your anger and not say something stupid.

"You don't have shit against him," you spat, and true to form, he couldn't help himself. He just had to show his hand.

"Bullshit. Got that girl he was on a date with that night at the bar willing to testify he had it out for me, that he was obsessed with you and would do anything to get rid of me," he sneered, looking quite pleased with himself.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You knew Nikki was pissed, but this was going too far.

"Then it doesn't sound like we have anything else to talk about," you said, standing up. You made your way to the door, passing by his chair, when he spoke once again.

"You're not gonna win, you know. They don't put cops in jail. Juries feel too guilty, knowing how dangerous it is."

You looked down at him, finally seeing him for who he really was: a pathetic, desperate, sad excuse for a man. No matter how long it took for Madeline to finalize your divorce, you would do it the right way. You've suffered for years, a few more months wouldn't kill you.

And then you would be free.

"Hope you're willing to bet your life on that," you said before turning on your heel and swinging open the door.

Joel was at your side in an instant, following you and Madeline down the corridor towards the courtroom.

"Do I even want to ask?" Madeline said over her shoulder.

"You were right. He wanted me to drop the charges in exchange for signing the papers," you told her, then glanced up at Joel by your side. "I said no. We're doing this the right way."

"Good," they both said at the same time. Your hand itched to reach out and hold his, but you knew you couldn't, so you settled for gently brushing your knuckles against the back of his hand and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

When you entered the courtroom, which was much smaller than you expected, your eyes immediately drifted around to the scattered few people seated in the spectator chairs. You had completely forgotten about your mother, and seeing her sitting there, on the other side of the room as your cousin, with her hair pulled back tightly and wearing a navy blue dress you hadn't seen before, sent you into shock. Fortunately, she stared straight ahead, avoiding your penetrating gaze, so you looked away and made eye contact with your cousin, who gave you a tight smile and a thumbs up.

Then you heard Joel suck in air next to you and you glanced up at him, following his gaze to Michelle, who was seated a few rows behind the plaintiff's table.

"What's she doing here?" you tried to mutter under your breath.

"Don't know," he replied quietly, turning his focus away from her.

Madeline swung open the doors for you to step through and take a seat behind the desk, where she joined you and began to open up her briefcase and spread out all her files on the table. Joel slid into the row of chairs right behind you, and if you took a deep breath, you could smell him. Gone was the putrid cologne, the only thing he ever had in common with Patrick besides his profession. All that you could smell was him. His natural, masculine scent mixed with a subtle hint of his deodorant and some hair product. A smell you had grown to love and crave.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you noticed you had less than five minutes before the trial began. More people began to stream in. Witnesses on both sides, some you recognized and some you didn't. A few cops that you knew were close with Patrick on the force sat together in full regalia, no doubt trying to win favor with the jury with their choice in clothes, just like you.

You had a chance to look at Joel just one more time, one fleeting smile and wink from him before the doors swung open. Patrick and his lawyer marched up to their table, both of them avoiding looking in your direction as they got settled in just in time for the bailiff to announce for the room to rise, and moments later the judge and jury walked in.

You were holding up better than you expected. All of these months of preparation finally paid off. You were more confident after each witness Madeline brought up to the stand. She started with a couple old co-workers of yours, who didn't have much to say other than they had asked you a few times about your bruises and you had made up excuses, but they always suspected something else was going on. Patrick's lawyer stood up and objected when they hinted at your husband being the cause, and the judge agreed. Madeline backed off her line of questioning and once she was satisfied, announced no further questions before sitting down. Patrick's lawyer - Beckett Kennedy, you learned - chose not to question them further.

Next was your cousin, Mary, who testified she knew Patrick was hurting you, but as Beckett would clarify for the jury later under cross examination, had no proof other than your word. She explained how you continually went to her for help, that she helped you get on birth control without Patrick's knowledge, and how you confided in her the night before you fled to Texas.

The next witness in your defense was Carol, the doctor Joel had brought you to after Patrick's most recent assault.

That was when things got rocky.

There were blown up images of your injuries being projected in front of the entire room, including some that blurred out your privates, but you still found to be absolutely humiliating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying not to show too much emotion as Carol explained in great detail all of the injuries you had sustained not only that day, but historically as well. Madeline called into evidence your old medical reports from the hospitals back in Philadelphia, and Carol gave her expert opinion on each one, explaining in layman's terms what each and every note meant so that the jury could understand.

Every single cut, bruise, laceration, and broken bone was discussed as you stared down at your hands in your lap, your cheeks burning. You heard Joel shift behind you in his seat and you tried to take a deep breath, tried to catch his scent to calm you, but you were too far away or maybe it wasn't strong enough and the urge to turn around and bury your face in his neck for comfort was overwhelming.

Finally, Madeline finished up with Carol, thanking her for her time before sitting down next to you. She gave you a wink, trying to reassure you everything was going smoothly, and you gave her a small smile in return.

Beckett then got up to cross examine Carol. He tried to poke holes in her medical expertise, tried to question her knowledge about sexual assault and if she could truly be considered an expert in that particular field of study when she was just a general practitioner but Carol sat tall and told the court she was an OBGYN for ten years and that she very much had a vast amount of knowledge in the area of female anatomy.

After Beckett insultingly tried to suggest pap smears and the occasional birth could hardly make Carol an expert in trauma, she was excused.

"We have time for one more witness, Maddy," Judge Dean, an older man with bright blue eyes and absolutely no hair on his head, announced before she stood up and took a deep breath.

"The prosecution calls Sheriff Joel Miller to the stand."

After Joel raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he sat down and adjusted his blazer, then glanced at Madeline expectantly. She gave him a warm smile and started slow. She thanked him for traveling all the way to Austin to give his testimony, asked him to verify how long he had been town sheriff, and asked him to give an approximate idea of how many incidents he had encountered in his tenure for domestic or sexual abuse.

"So it sounds like you're no stranger to this type of crime."

"Unfortunately, no," he replied.

"The plaintiff didn't call the police when she was assaulted, is that correct?" she asked.

"That's correct."

"Can you explain how you came to find out she was hurt?"

Joel took a deep breath and glanced quickly at you before looking back at Madeline. "She works as a waitress at the diner in town. See her almost every day for lunch. One day she called in sick, I had a hunch somethin' was wrong and her apartment's on the way back to work, so I stopped to do a wellness check on her."

"What caused you to have a hunch, sheriff?"

"The day before, I saw the plaintiff and defendant at a coffee shop. I witnessed the defendant put his hands on the plaintiff in an aggressive manner and it raised some red flags," he explained calmly.

"And when you went to her apartment to do a wellness check, what did you see?" Madeline asked, looking up from her legal pad with her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. You dropped your gaze to your lap. You could remember that day vividly. The shame and embarrassment and the pain all came rushing back, and you tried to blink the tears away as you focused on Joel's answer.

"It was clear the plaintiff had been attacked," he began, and only because you knew him so well, you could hear the slight strain in his voice. "She had a gash on her forehead, a split lip, a bruise on her cheek and scratches all down her neck."

Madeline hummed as she picked up the remote for the projector and flipped through the images that Carol had gone over. She stopped on a picture of your face with wounds that matched Joel's description and you noticed out of the corner of your eye a few jurors shake their heads sadly.

"Are these images the injuries you're describing, sheriff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"After you performed the wellness check, what happened?" Madeline asked, setting down the remote but leaving the picture of your beat up face on the monitor. You knew she was doing it to garner sympathy and help paint the picture Joel was describing, but it made your stomach turn.

"I encouraged the plaintiff to seek medical treatment and press charges."

"And that is when the plaintiff visited Dr. Carol Parker, correct?"

"That's correct."

"I noticed at the same time, the defendant was in holding, is that true?" Madeline asked, and Joel nodded.

"Yes."

"Why was he arrested, sheriff?"

"He was drunk and disorderly in public the night before, so I took him in to sleep it off."

"Were those the only charges against him?" she asked.

"No. He also punched me when I was attempting to make the arrest, so he was also charged with assaulting a police officer."

"And when the plaintiff came to the station to give her statement, that was when the additional charges were filed, correct?" Madeline asked, picking up the remote to switch to a slide of the long list of charges against Patrick.

"Correct."

"I also see here a restraining order was filed to protect the plaintiff."

"Correct."

"And did the defendant obey the restraining order?"

"No, he did not," Joel said, straightening up in his seat. "He showed up at the plaintiff's place of employment and tried to intimidate her. Threatened her." You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering that night when Tommy and Thor stood up for you. How scared you were, how hopeless you felt and then Joel arrived, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"And the police were called then?"

"Yes. Maria Miller, one of the owners of the diner, called down to the station and spoke with my deputy, who then called me on his way down to the diner and I met up with him there."

"To arrest the defendant for violating the restraining order?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And did you?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk and crossing her ankles in front of her.

"Not that evening, no. He couldn't be found," Joel said. You stiffened in your seat, bracing for what was coming next.

"Can you tell me what happened after you arrived at the diner?"

Joel swallowed and glanced briefly in your direction again before answering. "I took the plaintiff back to her apartment so she could get some things and stay elsewhere for the night. We were worried the defendant would try to harm her and thought it best she stay away from her residence until he was apprehended," he said, pausing for a moment. "But when we got there, it was clear the defendant had already broken in-"

"Objection," Beckett announced suddenly.

"Sustained."

"Allow me to rephrase," Madeline said, pushing off her desk. "What did you witness when you arrived back at the plaintiff's apartment?"

"It appeared the place had been broken into," Joel began. "Her belongings were destroyed. There were holes in the drywall, dish-ware broken, graffiti on the walls, and what smelled like urine in her bed."

Madeline used her remote to flip to images of your apartment from that night, and when the one of your bathroom came onto the screen, you heard a low murmur from the people behind you.

"According to my notes, you sent out a pair of officers to process the scene the next morning, along with a forensic analyst, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would like to draw your attention to exhibit 6C, the forensics report," Madeline said, clicking the remote to another slide where a document appeared with the label Exhibit 6C at the bottom. "What can you tell me about this report, sheriff?"

"Objection. The witness can hardly be considered a forensics expert, your honor," Beckett said, standing up.

"I believe he's proven he has many years of experience and can answer basic questions," Madeline argued. "I will wait until tomorrow to question the forensics analyst in more detail, but I believe the sheriff has the ability to answer one simple question today."

The judge looked back and forth between Madeline and Beckett as he considered his answer.

"Be careful, counselor," he warned Madeline, then turned to Joel. "Go ahead."

"The DNA taken from the mattress matched the sample we took from the defendant at the station, so we brought additional charges against him for breaking and entering once he was arrested."

"And when did you finally arrest him, sheriff?"

"The following day."

"Can you please describe for the court how and where you found the defendant?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk again. You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap as you listened.

"We found him in a crack house with some locals and a couple prostitutes."

"Did he resist arrest?"

"No, this time he was too high and passed out-"

"Objection!" Beckett yelled. "Speculation, your honor."

"Sustained," the judge said, frowning at Joel, but Joel just kept his gaze trained on Madeline.

"No further questions, your honor," Madeline said, turning on her heel to sit back down next to you.

"Your witness," the judge said with a nod in Beckett's direction, and a smug smile spread across his face before he stood up. He paced in front of the bench for a few moments, trying to build up the anticipation, and it was working. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you watched him walk slowly back and forth, but Joel appeared to be perfectly calm as he waited for his first question.

When he stopped pacing and you saw the look on Beckett's face, you knew exactly what was coming. It was the moment he had been waiting for. The bombshell. Their only chance at swaying the jury in their favor thus far, and he was ready to strike.

"Sheriff, have you ever had sex with the plaintiff?"

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[flemingsfreckles]

Perfect To Me (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Jessie notices you acting differently, when she learns why, she’s determined to help.

Warnings: body image issues, self deprecation, self consciousness, some self hatred, SMUT (18+), somewhat controlling Jessie, mirror sex, edging, fingering (r receiving), mentions of strap on sex,

WC: 3.0k

Today had just been one of those days, you woke up and felt wrong. It started when you went into the bathroom, seeing two large pimples bright red on your face. Then when you changed you couldn’t help but notice every little detail wrong with your body, stretch marks, scars, blemishes, all of it, you hated it. You tried to get dressed, everything feeling too tight on your body caused you to spiral even further.

Jessie was quick to notice you were off, that morning opting to wear a sweatshirt and pants despite the warm weather. She then noticed at training the way you hurried off to the bathroom to change, unlike normal. She noticed you were frustrated at practice, having a rough day overall it seemed. On the way home you didn’t say anything, silently watching out the window, thinking about everything that went wrong.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” She questions you as she throws the car in park in the driveway.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” You dismiss her concerns for you.

Her hand comes over the console and finds its way to your thigh. “Babe, talk to me. You’ve been quiet all day, I’m worried about you.”

You loved Jessie, she had been a perfect girlfriend for the past year, but she was insistent. She always wanted to talk things through, it got on your nerves, sometimes you had to sit in self loathing first. “I feel like shit about myself Jessie! I’m bloated, nothing fits, everything is too tight, everything seems wrong, everyone else is running around with their toned stomachs and perfect legs, I have stretch marks, I have acne, I hate myself.”

“Hey!” Jessie snaps. “You’re not allowed to speak about my girlfriend like that!”

“I can talk about her however the fuck I want to, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.” You taunt Jessie as you unbuckled and closed the door hard behind you.

Jessie follows you in the house. She lets you be for the next few hours, keeping her distance knowing you just needed some time alone to work through your feelings. And you worked through those feelings, as best you could, still not loving your body, still annoyed at the way everything fit, but better than you were this morning.

Your uncomfortable feelings with your body fade slightly as the day goes on, you start to forget what a terrible start to your morning you had. You knew you were overreacting, feeling just overwhelmed with the day, you took it out on yourself, you always did. What you didn’t know was Jessie hadn’t forgotten the way you had moved away from the mirror at home, the way she saw you staring for too long at your thighs and stomach, the way you closed yourself in the bathroom at home and at work to change. She was determined to make you feel better, even if you had already done it for yourself.

Which is how she ended up feeling you up as the two of you attempted to watch a movie. The movie is quickly forgotten as she pulls you up onto her lap to straddle her. Her hands on your waist, pulling you into her, encouraging your grinding motion. Your hands run through her curls as your lips slide against each other.

She reaches for your shirt, you nod hard against her, letting her know it was okay to pull it up and over your head. Your self conscious feeling comes back slightly as Jessie’s eyes make their way across your body. She then slides her finger tips into the waistband of your pants.

“Can I?”

“Just touch me already Jess, don’t take them off.” You think you’re being subtle, just hoping she’ll think you’re desperate enough for her touch that she shouldn’t bother taking off your pants. It’s less that you’re desperate and more you didnt feel like being completely naked.

“Okay babe.” Her hand slides past your waistband and pushes aside your panties. “Fuck.” She whispers as she feels the arousal between your lips.

“Please Jess.” Maybe you actually were desperate for her touch. She brings her fingers up to your clit, beginning to play with it exactly how she knew to. Jessie would usually tease a bit, giving you soft touches, moving away for a moment, slowing down, but today she was doing all the right things. It was as if she was trying to get you off as quickly as possible. You ground down onto her fingers, increasing the friction and pleasure.

“Fuck Jessie.”

“You feel so good on my fingers baby.” She groans into you and your grip on her hair tightens.

“Babe I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

She smirks up at you. “I know.”

“Oh fuck.” You drop your head to her shoulder, letting out a string of moaned profanities from the pleasure of being right on the edge of release. And then you're quickly cursing Jessie as she takes away her fingers, removing them completely from your waistband.

“What the hell?” your head snaps up to look at her.

“Get up.” She taps your thighs and you move off of her reluctantly wishing she would finish what she just started. You were also still pissed that she took away your orgasm.

“Take the rest off and join me in the bedroom.” She looks at you, her eyes are soft, pupils are big. She turns and disappears into your bedroom. You assumed she was putting down the waterproof blanket, her strap, and maybe a few other toys.

Wanting to get your orgasm, you quickly remove your clothing, too focused on getting off that you don’t care as much about being naked. You leave your pants, underwear, and bra on the couch with your discarded shirt. You make your way to Jessie, walking into the bedroom.

Jessie is sitting on the bed against the headboard, she was now just in her sports bra and boxers, legs spread out on the bed. You notice there isn’t a blanket on the bed, she didn’t have out any of the toys you shared. You then noticed the large mirror usually in the corner of your bedroom had been moved to the end of the bed.

“Sit.” She patted the spot between her legs, you obeyed, crawling onto the bed and kneeling between her thighs. You start to move to straddle her, just as you had been on the couch, when she stops you.

“Nope, turn around, back to me.” You turn yourself, you bare back pressing against Jessie’s covered chest. You now realize the placement of the mirror, so you could see the two of you from where you sat together on the bed, Jessie’s head resting just above your shoulder.

“Good girl.” As you get settled where she wanted you Jessie praises you. She uses her arms to uncross your own, removing them from where they hid your chest, pulling them down and placing your hands on her thighs. She then uses her own legs to hook around yours spreading your legs, leaving you completely exposed in front of the mirror. “Now before I help you finish what I started out there, we’re doing this.” She gestures to the mirror.

“Look at yourself.” You don’t follow that instruction. Keeping your eyes glued to the bed sheets, not wanting to see your naked body in the mirror. Jessie gives you a second to look up, when you don’t her hand is hard on your chin, forcing your face up. You close your eyes, “I said, look at yourself.” Her grasp is hard on your face, a grasp that is demanding and slightly harsh.

You do as she says, opening your eyes, only your eyes find her eyes in the mirror, still avoiding looking at your body.

“Babe, don’t make this harder than it should be.” Her whisper is gentle in your ear, a contrast to her harsh grip and tone from before. “Look at my hands if that’s easier.” She adds before she removes her grip from your chin placing her hands on your shoulders.

“See these babe?” She squeezes your shoulders, “I love your strong shoulders and arms, I love how they hold me tight, how they hold me when we dance in the kitchen, I love how they toss me on the bed before you have your way with me. I appreciate your arms everyday.” Her hands rub from your shoulders down to your hands and back up, you watch, keeping your eyes on her hands. Her lips place kisses on each shoulder. “Tell me one thing you love about your arms and shoulders, pretty girl.”

“Um,” your eyes fall for a minute, Jessie’s hand finds your chin, gently pushing it to remind you to look up. “I love that they get to hug you, after a goal when you come and jump into my arms, they get to hold you up.”

“Good job baby.” She turned her head down to you, gently guiding you to kiss her. “Keep being a good girl and you’ll get a reward.”

Her hands then slide down, finding your chest. “Mhhh” she hums as she grasps each of your tits firmly in her hand. Her actions have you letting out a small moan. “I mean I think it’s obvious why I love these, but I love how you react when I touch them, when I drag my tongue over here.” She lets her fingers drag across your nipples making you arch into her touch slightly. “I love how you let me fall asleep with my head on them, they really make the best pillows.” Her hands remain on your chest, she is playing with your nipples and the surrounding skin. “Your turn.” She tells you.

You’re stuck, your shoulders and arms were easy, you didn’t fully despise them, your chest, and frankly the rest of your body was going to be harder.

“I dunno.” You look down. Your hands moved down to start to pick at the skin on your thighs.

“Hey,” Jessie pulls your hands away from where they were picking. “I’ll keep going then. I love the way they look in your sports bra, I love the pretty little noises you make when I play with them, I love how you let me mark them with my mouth, I love-“

“Okay stop.” You gently chew your lip, looking at Jessie through the mirror, her gaze is strong on you. “I like how they look in that yellow top that you like so much.”

“That’s perfect baby.” She gives you a nod and kisses the side of your head.

Her hands trail down. Settling on your waist and stomach. You took a deep breath, eyes still looking at Jessie’s face.

“Look at my hands.” She tells you. You drop your eyes lower, looking at where her hands were spread on your own stomach.

“I love your stomach, your waist. I love being able to hold you tight around the waist, I love how your hips look when you tuck in your jersey,”

“I have stretch marks.” You interrupt her, you don’t mean to but the words just come out. You tense, expecting to get scolded by Jessie. Only she doesn’t scold you, she just calmly starts speaking again.

“Yeah baby, you do.” Her fingers gently drag over the lines you were so insecure about. “But guess what, so does everyone, you’re strong because of those marks, you grew, you’re an athlete, you push this body to the limit everyday. You’re making it stronger, faster, and sometimes that means your muscles grow faster than your skin can keep up, so you get these beautiful marks.”

Her hands slide down to the inside of your thighs where more stretch marks sat. They rest, sitting just above where you still desperately needed her touch.

“Look at these legs baby. So strong, they’re able to carry you running around for hours. You’re able to squat, jump, and run, because of these legs.” Her hand is now on the outside of your thigh. “These legs help carry me to bed when I fall asleep on the couch. These legs piggybacked Sam around for 45 minutes so she could say hi to fans after playing a whole 90’ minutes because she didn’t want to deal with her crutches, these legs score game winning goals.”

Her hands squeeze tight, reassuring but also nearing painful. “Now since we are talking about your strong, muscular, beautiful legs, you owe me something you love about your stomach and your legs.”

“I like that my legs let me play soccer and that they’ve let me travel all over and see incredible things.” You stop and stare at your stomach, looking for something good to say about it. “Um. I like my core because it makes me a better athlete, and it’s useful for other activities.” You give Jessie a knowing look through the mirror. It took you and Jessie only a couple times to learn how much core strength is required to be on the giving end of the strap on you shared.

“That’s perfect, you’ve been such a good girl.” Jessie’s voice suddenly deeper. “You did so well baby. Do you want your reward?”

You nod against her, still making eye contact through the mirror.

“What do you want, baby?” She brings her hands down on your thighs so that her index fingers are sitting in the crease between your thigh and pussy.

“Your fingers. Please.” You were ready for her to fuck you, having edged you just to make you sit for what felt like an hour, staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Of course my love.” She gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Anything for my perfect girl.”

Her hands move, her left moving a finger to your entrance, slowly running in up and down to collect some wetness before she gently pushes it inside of you. It’s only one finger but it feels good with how turned on you are from being edged.

“Add another please Jessie.” You manage to get out.

“Anything for you.” She pushed into you with two fingers thrusting them both gently, curling once they’re deep inside of you. Her right hand now settles with just her middle finger on your clit. Unlike before she starts slow, gently tracing around the bud.

Her mouth starts making its way down your neck, leaving hot, open mouth kisses along the side, it makes you sigh, you loved the feeling of her lips on your neck, it was always so sensitive, the way she would suck hard enough to feel it but soft enough not to leave a mark. The way Jessie would drag her teeth over your skin, biting you softly knowing you liked the pain. Her mouth on your neck was heaven.

With her mouth pleasuring your neck and her hands between your thighs, it wasn’t long until your legs were shaking and you were moaning Jessie’s name. Feeling yourself reach the edge again you throw your head back, shutting your eyes.

“Eyes open, watch yourself baby, watch yourself feel good.” Jessie’s shoulder nudges your head up. You listen, but instead of watching yourself you make intense eye contact with Jessie.

She removed her hand from your clit and stalls her fingers inside of you just as your legs start to try and close on her hands. You let out a high pitched whine.

“Do you love your body?” She stares at you through the mirror.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I love my body.”

“Look at yourself when you say it.” Her hand, previously pleasuring your clit, comes up to hold your chin again. You can smell your arousal on her finger tips. Your eyes leave hers and find yourself staring back at you. “Now, tell me you love yourself again.”

“I love my body.” Her hand drops from your chin.

“Again.”

“I love my body.” Her finger finds its way back to your clit, just touching it, not moving.

“Good girl, again.”

“I love my body.” She starts circling with her fingers, pleasure immediately flowing through you again.

“Again baby.”

“I love my body.” Now she’s gently thrusting her fingers again, no where near the force or speed that she had before but it was better then them sitting still inside of you.

“Good girl, one more and I’ll let you cum.”

“I love my body.”

“That’s my girl, you can cum, I promise I won’t tease you this time.” With her promise her fingers inside of you return their vigor from before, immediately feeling yourself clenching tightly around them. Her finger in your clit increases its pressure and you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror. You’re able to watch your orgasm start before the pleasure becomes too much and you have to shut your eyes and throw your head back.

Jessie praises you as she works you through your orgasm. Her words spur you on further, her lips hot against your ear. “That’s it pretty girl, so good, I love making you feel good. You look so pretty cumming around my fingers.”

As you come down from your orgasm you blink your eyes open, finding Jessie’s eyes in the mirror.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“What do you want? A bath? To cuddle? A nap?” Jessie was always attentive with aftercare even if you had vanilla sex, she always checked in, seeing what you needed and you’d return the favor.

“A bath would be nice.” Jessie nods and slides her legs off of yours, finally allowing you to close your legs. She moves off the bed, holding out a hand to you. You get off the bed with her assistance and walk into the bathroom together. Jessie starts running the bath, putting in your favorite lavender soap. She moved to get out a towel for you. When you notice she only grabs one towel you frown at her.

“What's wrong?”

“Can you join me?” You point to the bath, a pout on your face.

“Of course.” Jessie reaches back into the cabinet for another towel. She comes over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, holding you tight. “I love you, you’re perfect.” She whispers.

[meazalykov]

sickness

kika nazareth x reader

summary: embarrassing yourself in front of your lover is not how you pictured your first night-in

warnings: food poisoning, vomit!!, possible emetophobia trigger, comfort

you’re in your apartment, setting up for movie night. 

the living room is cozy, and the soft glow of string lights hung across the walls creates a warm, intimate space. the midcentury modern style of your place makes everything feel neat for tonight. 

kika is coming over soon, and it’s only been two weeks since you both became official. you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves every time you think about her. 

the both of you have been playing together at barcelona for a while now, but this new chapter between the two of you still feels so fresh.

you’ve just finished arranging the sushi you ordered—a spread of different rolls and sashimi, all kika’s favorites—on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

you’re not the biggest fan of sushi, but you got yourself some california rolls, figuring it was the safest choice. you’re not too worried about it. tonight is about making kika happy, and you’re more than okay with that.

just as you lay the blankets on the couch, there’s a knock at the door. your heart skips a beat. it’s her.

you open the door to see kika standing there in her pajamas, a filled tote bag, a pair of loose sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt, hair slightly tousled as if she’s just rolled out of bed. 

she’s got a shy but warm smile on her face as she holds up a bottle of wine.

“thought this might be nice with the sushi,” she says, stepping inside. the moment she’s through the door, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug that instantly makes you feel like you’re home.

you laugh softly, squeezing her back. “you read my mind.”

kika pulls away just enough to look at you, her eyes twinkling. “i missed this. missed you.”

you smile, your heart swelling. “i missed you too. it's nice to finally get some time alone. between training and games, it’s like we never have a moment by ourselves.”

“well, we do now,” she says, her voice soft but filled with affection. she glances over at the coffee table and her eyes light up when she sees the sushi. 

“oh my– y/n…this is a lot don’t you think?”

you nod, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “it is, but i know it’s your favorite.”

kika’s smile falters slightly as she looks back at you. “but you don’t really like sushi, do you? i don’t want you to feel like you have to eat it just for me.”

you shrug, trying to brush it off. “it’s fine, really. i got california rolls. i can handle those.”

she hesitates, her brows furrowing with concern, but eventually she lets it go, her smile returning. “okay, if you’re sure.”

you both settle on the couch, the sushi laid out in front of you, and kika picks the movie. it’s halloween season, so you go for something on-theme but not too scary—something you can both enjoy without losing sleep later. 

as the movie starts, you curl up into kika’s side, her arm around your shoulders, and everything feels perfect. the ambient lighting sets the mood, and you’re grateful that there’s no training tomorrow. it means you can fully enjoy this time with her, no interruptions, no alarms to wake up early.

you both dig into the sushi, kika happily eating her favorites while you cautiously nibble on your california rolls. 

for a while, everything feels great. you’re laughing together, making playful comments about the movie, and you can’t help but feel how easy it all is with her. how natural.

but then, as the movie goes on, you start to feel…off.

you’re nestled into kika’s side, the movie playing softly in the background. her arm is draped around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing small patterns on your arm. the ambiance in the room feels perfect—the dim lighting, the cozy couch, the quiet intimacy of just being together. everything feels right.

but then, a subtle discomfort blooms in your stomach. it’s nothing major at first, just a slight unease, like maybe you ate too fast or didn’t drink enough water. 

you shift in your seat, trying to adjust, hoping the feeling will pass. kika’s fingers keep moving on your arm, her body warm and relaxed next to yours, and you try to focus on that, on the ease of being with her.

still, the discomfort doesn’t go away.

instead, it grows. your stomach feels heavier, the sushi you ate sitting like a rock. you swallow hard, hoping it’s just a passing sensation, but each passing second makes the nausea more real, more pressing. your heart starts to race, the panic creeping in faster than you can control it.

you’re not just uncomfortable now—you’re scared.

it’s sudden, like a switch flipping inside of you. the fear of being sick, of throwing up right here, in front of kika, crashes over you. you can feel your chest tighten, your breath quicken. the last thing you want to do is throw up. 

the memories from when you were a kid flash in your mind—how helpless you felt, how terrified you were every time it happened. that fear has never left you, and now it’s rising like a tidal wave.

your muscles tense involuntarily, and you can feel your body starting to revolt. the room feels too warm, your skin prickling with anxiety, and all you can think about is the inevitable. 

your throat tightens, a warning. it’s coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

you glance at kika out of the corner of your eye. she’s so calm, so content, her attention still on the movie. she’s enjoying this—enjoying being with you—and the last thing you want to do is ruin that. you don’t want to alarm her, don’t want to spoil the rare moment of peace you have together. 

the nausea is growing unbearable, and you know you can’t stay here. not like this.

you shift again, trying to find a position that might ease the discomfort, but it only makes things worse. your stomach lurches violently, and a cold sweat breaks out across your skin. the fear hits you hard, your mind racing with thoughts of what’s about to happen. 

the thought of throwing up makes your heart pound in your chest, your body trembling with dread.

"shit," you whisper under your breath, a faint, desperate sound that kika doesn’t hear.

you can feel the bile rising, and suddenly, you know you can’t hold it back any longer. you shoot up from the couch, your hand instinctively covering your mouth as if that will somehow stop what’s coming.

“y/n?” kika’s voice is full of concern, but you don’t have time to explain. you’re already halfway down the hall, panic driving your feet as you run toward your bedroom and into the bathroom.

the entire time, your mind is spinning, fear gripping you like a vice. what if this ruins everything? what if kika is grossed out by this, by you? what if she doesn’t want to be with someone who gets like this?

however, the nausea is too overwhelming, drowning out all other thoughts. your only focus now is making it to the bathroom before it’s too late. you stumble through the doorway, collapsing to your knees in front of the toilet just as your body gives in.

you retch, your body convulsing as the sushi comes back up, and with it, all the panic you’ve been trying to suppress. tears blur your vision, and the fear of being sick, of throwing up, grips you so tightly it feels like you’re suffocating. 

the taste, the sound, the feeling of your stomach turning inside out—it’s everything you dreaded, and it’s happening now.

throwback to when you were a kid, how you’d cry for hours every time you got sick. the fear, the helplessness—it’s all flooding back now, and you’re doing your best to keep it together but your body has other plans.

your breath hitches, and panic sets in as you realize this isn’t something you can just ride out. the nausea is overwhelming now.

“y/n, are you okay?” kika’s panicked voice cuts as she reaches you in the bathroom. 

you gag, your body trembling as you cry– tears streaming down your face as you clutch the toilet bowl, feeling like your entire body is betraying you. 

your chest heaves, your throat burns, and the panic sets in deeper, choking you with fear.

kika is right behind you in an instant. she kneels down next to you, gently pulling your hair back and out of your face. her soft hand rubs soothing circles on your back, and even though you’re in the middle of a full-blown panic, you can hear her soft voice.

“shh, it’s okay, i’ve got you. just breathe, y/n. it’s going to be okay.”

you shake your head, your body still convulsing as more of the sushi comes up. it feels like your entire body is revolting, and the more you throw up, the more you panic. 

you hate this. you hate feeling like this. it’s all too much, and you’re scared, so scared.

“i’m so sorry,” you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with fear and exhaustion. “i didn’t want this to happen, i should’ve—”

“y/n, don’t,” kika interrupts gently, her voice firm but kind. 

“you don’t need to apologize. i’m here, okay? i’m not going anywhere.”

you continue to cry, your body spent and weak as you finish throwing up. all you can do is collapse onto the cool tile of the bathroom floor, your head resting on the soft bathroom mat. 

kika stays with you the entire time, never leaving your side. she’s calm, collected, even though you feel like a complete mess.

after a moment, she stands up. “i’ll be right back,” she says softly, and before you can protest, she’s out the door.

you’re left alone for a few moments, the silence of the bathroom settling around you. your body is trembling, your head spinning with the aftershocks of panic, and all you can think about is how humiliating this must be. 

kika had to see all of that. you just threw up in front of her, cried like a child, and now you’re lying on the bathroom floor because you don’t even have the energy to move.

what if this is too much for her? what if she’s grossed out? it’s so early in your relationship, and already she’s seeing you at your worst. is this going to be the thing that pushes her away? you start to spiral again, your mind racing with insecurities. 

before you can dwell too much on it, kika returns. she has a small pile of things in her arms—a bottle of water, some medicine, a warm rag, and a banana. she kneels back down beside you, her eyes filled with nothing but concern.

“here,” she says gently, placing the rag on your forehead and offering you the water. 

“small sips, okay? you need to rehydrate.”

you take the water gratefully, your hands still shaky as you bring it to your lips. kika watches you closely, her expression soft and caring.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble again, your voice hoarse from the vomiting and crying. 

“i didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

kika shakes her head firmly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“you didn’t ruin anything, y/n. don’t even think that.”

you take another sip of water, your eyes avoiding hers. “but i should’ve known. i shouldn’t have eaten the sushi. i just wanted to—”

“y/n,” she cuts you off again, her voice gentle but insistent. “it’s not your fault. we can always get something else next time, okay? it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you’re feeling better.”

you glance up at her as your head lays on her thigh, your eyes wide with worry. 

“are you grossed out?”

kika pauses for a moment, then gives you a small, reassuring smile. “no, i’m not grossed out. honestly, i was more scared than anything.”

you blink, surprised. “scared?”

she nods, her hand resting on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “yeah. i hate seeing you like that. i just wanted to help.”

you feel a wave of relief wash over you, though the embarrassment still lingers. 

kika smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. you didn’t respond to her due to your lack of energy, but its like she knows what you’re thinking. 

“y/n, it doesn’t matter if we’ve been together for two weeks or two years. if you’re not feeling well, i’m going to take care of you. that’s what this is, right? being there for each other. you’d do the same for me.”

you nod slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. she’s right. you would do the same for her without hesitation.

kika adjusts herself so that you can lay your head on her thigh more comfortably. she strokes your hair softly, her fingers running through the strands in a soothing rhythm. 

“just relax, okay? you’re going to be fine.”

you close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of her touch, the gentle way she’s taking care of you. it helps calm the lingering panic, helps you feel grounded again. 

you don’t have the energy to move to the bed, and honestly, you’re too comfortable here, with kika by your side.

she hands you the banana, breaking off small pieces and encouraging you to eat. “just a little bit,” she says, her tone light and encouraging. “it’ll help settle your stomach.”

you take a few bites, slowly, and she makes sure you take your medicine too, watching over you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “i’m sorry this happened.”

kika shakes her head again, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “stop apologizing, y/n. i’m glad i’m here with you, okay? we’ll have plenty of other movie nights. i just want you to feel better.”

you nod, feeling a bit more at ease now, though the embarrassment still lingers at the edges of your mind.

the night didn’t go how you planned, but somehow, it feels like it brought you both closer. there’s a kind of intimacy in this moment, in the vulnerability, and you can feel how much she cares about you.

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