#on your hands and knees do you feel in charge?

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 2

previous chapter

no warnings - slow burn, joel is a major tease and flirt

The kitchen was warm, the smell of melted chocolate lingering in the air as you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, glancing down at the recipe in front of you. It was one you’d made a hundred times before—a rich, decadent chocolate cake that had won over countless friends back in Chicago. Even your ex had loved it.

You grimaced at the memory, shaking it off with a shudder before dipping a finger into the bowl for a taste. The sweet, velvety flavor spread across your tongue, momentarily satisfying.

Uncle Ray had mentioned earlier that he’d invited Sarah and Joel over to watch the game. Your heart gave a nervous thud at the thought of Joel being in your house. He had this way of commanding a room with his quiet confidence, and you weren’t sure you were ready to be in such close proximity to him for an entire evening.

Ray had promised to take care of dinner, leaving you in charge of dessert. A fair trade, you supposed, since cooking wasn’t exactly his forte. You focused on the cake, pouring the batter into the pan, when the doorbell rang.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked to the door, smoothing your hair nervously before opening it.

There he was—Joel. His hair was damp and slicked back, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His patchy beard was trimmed just enough to keep that rugged edge, and his brown eyes held a quiet warmth, deep and rich like coffee.

The scent of him hit you next—clean and woodsy, mixed with a faint trace of something spiced that made your knees feel a little weaker.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar, that unmistakable Southern drawl curling around the word and sending a shiver straight through you.

"Hi, Joel," you managed, your voice softer than you intended as you stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

He stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the hardwood floor, the sound grounding you as you tried not to stare too long.

His eyes roamed the hallway, pausing on a framed photo perched on the console table. Reaching out, he picked it up with a curious smile.

"Who's this cutie?" he asked, holding the picture up slightly.

You moved closer, your shoulder nearly brushing his as you glanced at the image. It was an old photo of you as a kid, sandwiched between your dad and Ray.

The memory bubbled up faintly—how you’d been wearing an oversized life jacket, grinning despite being terrified of the fish your dad had caught.

"Oh," you said, a small laugh escaping as you brushed your hair back nervously. "That’s me. My dad and Uncle Ray took me fishing that day. I remember being scared out of my mind when Dad reeled in this huge fish—it was flopping around everywhere."

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back at the photo, his thumb brushing over the glass as if committing it to memory.

"Damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. Then he glanced at you, his smile softening into something deeper, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. "Still are," he added, his eyes holding yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Your cheeks burned, the compliment settling into your chest like a warm glow. "Thanks," you said, barely above a whisper, unsure of what else to say under the weight of his gaze.

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You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand being alone with Joel.

His presence was magnetic, and every look, every word he said, felt charged—but was it? Was he flirting, or was this just how he was with everyone?

Maybe it was just some Texas charm you weren’t used to. You needed to steady yourself, needed to change the subject.

"So, uh," you said, forcing a casual tone as you cleared your throat. "Where’s Sarah?"

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk, like he knew exactly what you were doing, but he let you have the out. "She’s runnin’ late," he said, placing the photo back down on the table with care. "Still finishing up work, but she’ll be here soon."

You nodded, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation hit you—you were alone with Joel. The thought made your pulse quicken, a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. "Uh, well," you said, gesturing toward the living room. "Ray’s out grabbing dinner. You can, um, make yourself comfortable until he gets back."

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. It made your breath hitch, the intensity in his eyes somehow grounding and overwhelming all at once. Then he gave you that crooked smile, the one that made your stomach flip.

"Alright," he said simply, moving toward the couch with an easy confidence that only made the room feel smaller. You watched him settle in, his broad shoulders stretching out as he leaned back, completely at ease while you stood there, feeling anything but.

Joel sat down with a sigh, his broad shoulders sinking into the couch as he leaned back and ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion pulling your attention to the way his shirt clung to him just right.

"It’s damn hot today," he said, his voice low and rough, like the heat had taken the edge off his usual drawl. His legs were spread comfortably, his presence filling the space with an effortless ease that only made you feel more out of place.

"You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to it."

You hovered near the doorway, arms folding across your chest as you tried to decide whether to sit or stay standing. The indecision made you feel awkward, and you cursed yourself for being so flustered around him.

"It’s even worse upstairs," you finally said, forcing a light tone. "The fan in my room stopped working a few days ago—it’s like a sauna in there."

Joel straightened a little, his brows knitting together in concern. "Really? You poor thing." His gaze softened as he looked at you, and the way he said it made something twist low in your stomach. "I could take a look at it for you, if you want."

The offer caught you off guard, your mind scrambling as you processed his words.

Oh, right—Ray had mentioned Joel was in construction. Maybe he knew how to fix a fan.

It made sense—the truck, the boots, the rough calloused hands that had clearly seen their share of hard work. The thought made your throat tighten.

Your mind stumbled at the thought of Joel in your room, his presence alone enough to make your pulse race. "Oh, you don’t have to—" you started, your voice higher than usual, betraying your nerves.

Joel stood, cutting you off with that low, smooth drawl. "Don’t want you spendin’ all night awake, hot and bothered," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The insinuation in his words wasn’t lost on you, and it hit you like a jolt of electricity, your breath catching in your chest. "Not when I could help ya out," he added casually, his tone as warm and rich as molasses.

You felt the heat bloom across your cheeks, spreading down your neck as you stammered, "Uh, sure. It’s upstairs."

You turned, leading him toward the staircase, but the sound of his boots following close behind only made your heart hammer harder. You tried to focus on anything but him—your hand brushing against the banister, the quiet creak of the steps beneath your weight—but you could feel him, warm and solid at your back, his quiet presence filling the space.

Joel’s eyes, however, weren’t on the stairs or the hallway ahead. His gaze drifted lower, lingering on the way your hips swayed naturally with each step, the curve of your ass accentuated by the snug fit of your jeans. He swallowed hard, biting back a low curse.

Lord help me, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair to distract himself.

You reached the top and glanced back over your shoulder, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that made the air feel heavier between you. "Here we are," you said softly, pushing open the door to your room and stepping aside to let him in.

Joel brushed past you as he stepped into your room, his presence warm and grounding, sending a faint shiver down your spine. His gaze wandered, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail—the photos of friends and family pinned lovingly to a corkboard, the necklaces and rings strewn across your dresser in a charming, haphazard way.

You were sweet, Joel thought, and that sweetness radiated from the room itself, from the cozy blankets draped over your bed to the faint, familiar scent that was uniquely you.

But then, his eyes caught on the bed—more specifically, on the pile of clothes you’d tossed there earlier. A flimsy thong rested on top of the heap, the delicate lace catching the soft light from the window.

Joel’s throat went dry, and he dragged a hand over his jaw, his mind racing with thoughts he had no right entertaining. He forced himself to look away, jaw tightening as he focused on the fan across the room, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

"Shit," you murmured, suddenly noticing his brief hesitation. Your cheeks flared with heat as you rushed to the bed, scooping up the pile and clutching it against your chest. "Sorry for the mess," you said, your voice tight with embarrassment.

Joel shook his head quickly, schooling his features into something easy and reassuring. "No problem," he said, his voice steady but a little rough around the edges. He let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease your nerves. "You should see Sarah’s room sometimes. I swear that girl keeps it a mess just to piss me off."

You forced a laugh, still mortified, as you hurried to stuff the clothes into your closet. Joel kept his gaze fixed on the fan now, determined to act normal, but his mind was spinning. The image of the lace had seared itself into his thoughts, and he had to fight to push it away, to remind himself to focus.

Clearing his throat, Joel gestured toward the fan. "Alright," he said, rolling his sleeves up further, exposing his strong forearms. "Let’s see if we can get this thing workin’ for ya." His voice was calm, even gentle, but his thoughts were anything but.

Joel crouched by the fan, examining it with a thoughtful furrow in his brow. His calloused fingers brushed over the edges as he fiddled with a few screws, testing the rotation. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans and glancing over at you.

"Looks like it’s somethin’ electrical," he said, his voice calm but reassuring. "I got a buddy who’s an electrician. I’ll have him come by and take care of it for ya—free of charge."

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness behind his words, but it was hard to focus with the way the sweat on his brow glistened in the afternoon light, his shirt clinging just a little to his chest and back. "Oh," you managed, nodding dumbly. "That’d be great. Thanks, Joel."

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before the sound of the front door opening downstairs broke the spell.

"Hey!" Ray called, his voice booming through the house. "You up there?"

You cleared your throat, straightening slightly. "We should head down," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

"Yeah," Joel said, his tone low as he turned back to you. His gaze lingered for just a moment, his eyes flicking to your bed before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was filing the scene away for later, a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken.

As you led the way downstairs, Joel followed closely, his presence a warm and steady weight just behind you. The quiet tension from upstairs hadn’t dissipated—it still hummed faintly between you, palpable in the air. Every step down felt slower, more deliberate, like the atmosphere itself was thick with the unsaid, pressing you closer to something neither of you was ready to name.

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The game was in full swing—football, of course, a local rivalry that had Joel and Ray glued to the screen. Every so often, one of them would groan or cheer, depending on how their team fared, their voices loud enough to rattle the windows.

You and Sarah exchanged amused looks from your spot on the couch, shaking your heads as the two grown men acted like teenagers.

"Do they always get this intense?" you whispered to Sarah, biting back a laugh.

"Every. Single. Time," she replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "It’s like watching kids at a theme park—if theme parks had beer and yelling."

You giggled, leaning back against the couch as Sarah launched into stories about her dad and Ray’s past football antics, complete with dramatized impressions. But even as you laughed with her, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel’s gaze on you.

Every so often, when the others were too distracted by the game, you caught him sneaking glances your way—subtle, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He’d quickly turn back to the TV each time, but the ghost of his gaze lingered, making it impossible to ignore.

When the game finally ended, Ray threw up his hands in frustration. "Ridiculous," he grumbled, leaning back on the couch. "They should’ve benched that quarterback weeks ago."

Joel nodded in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If they’d just gone for the run in the third, it could’ve turned things around."

"Right?!" Ray added, shaking his head. "Some people just don’t know how to coach."

"Oh, darling," Ray started, his tone fond as he suddenly perked up, pointing a finger in your direction. "You made a cake or somethin’, hey? Just remembered. Don’t tell me you’re hiding it from us!"

You blinked, suddenly remembering the cake you’d carefully baked and iced that morning. "Oh, right! It’s in the fridge," you said, standing up.

"You guys wanna try it?" Ray asked, grinning. "She’s a hell of a baker."

"Um, yes," Sarah replied enthusiastically, already sitting up straighter.

Joel leaned back, his eyes still on you. "Would love to," he said, but the way he said it, low and tender, made your breath hitch. His gaze didn’t leave yours, and the warmth in it sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You nodded quickly, escaping to the kitchen to grab the cake. Balancing it on a stand with a few plates and forks, you returned to the living room, feeling all too aware of Joel’s eyes following you. Placing the cake on the coffee table, you carefully cut everyone a piece, the rich chocolate scent filling the room.

"Hope it’s alright," you said nervously, watching as everyone took a bite.

Sarah’s eyes widened dramatically as she chewed, muffling an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, this is the best cake I’ve ever had!" through a mouthful of chocolate.

Ray nodded in approval, already going in for another bite. "You’ve outdone yourself, kid. This is damn good."

Your eyes flicked to Joel, waiting anxiously for his reaction. He had already finished his piece, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up, sucking the remnants of chocolate off two fingers in a deliberate motion that felt… intimate.

"Well done, angel," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That was amazing."

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively and you felt your panties growing wet under the watch of his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing, the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a telltale sign of his awareness.

That bastard.

"Th-thanks," you managed, tearing your gaze away and focusing on cutting yourself a piece of cake to distract from the wildfire spreading through you.

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As the evening wound down, you walked with Ray to see Sarah and Joel to the door. The air outside was cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as Sarah looped her arm through her dad’s, yawning dramatically.

"Thanks for having us," she said brightly, giving Ray a quick hug. "Dinner was great—and the cake was unreal."

Ray chuckled, patting her back. "Always good to have you two over. Don’t be strangers, now."

Joel lingered a step behind, his eyes on you as you stood quietly to the side. "You’re welcome anytime," Ray said, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. Joel nodded, murmuring his thanks, but his gaze flicked back to you almost immediately, softer now in the dim porch light.

Sarah yawned again, tugging her dad toward the footpath. "C’mon, old man, I’m beat. Let’s go."

"Alright, alright," Joel said, chuckling. But before he followed her, he turned back, his hand brushing lightly against yours in a way so subtle it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingers lingered for the briefest moment, his touch warm and deliberate.

Joel took one step closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Save me another piece of that cake next time," he said, his eyes holding yours. "I’m already thinkin’ about it."

The way he said it made your breath hitch, the words laced with something unspoken. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he turned and headed to his house, leaving you standing on the porch with your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Ray didn’t notice anything, but you did—and so did Joel.

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You and Sarah were halfway through The Longest Ride, laughter bubbling up as you playfully tossed popcorn at each other during one of the slower scenes. She had texted you a few days after the game, asking if you wanted to hang out, and you’d eagerly agreed.

The warm, golden glow of the living room lamps mixed with the soft flicker of the TV, wrapping the room in a cocoon of cozy chaos that muffled the storm’s furious howls outside. The rain lashed against the windows, but you hardly noticed, caught up in the moment. You were so absorbed in the film, neither of you heard the door creak open or the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the floor.

"Fucking hell," a deep voice growled from the hallway as the door slammed shut, caught by the gusting wind.

Both of you turned instinctively, startled, to find Joel standing in the entryway, drenched from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stray raindrops tracing along the sharp line of his jaw.

Water trickled in rivulets down his neck, soaking into a shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in a way that made your breath catch. His boots, caked with mud, squelched audibly as he yanked them off with a sharp, frustrated tug.

"Dad, are you okay?" Sarah asked, sitting up straighter. "I thought you were going to Uncle Tommy’s."

"I was," Joel grumbled, shaking out his jacket and tossing it over a nearby chair. "Got halfway there and had to turn back. It’s like a goddamn monsoon out there."

Joel hadn’t even glanced toward the living room, too preoccupied with muttering under his breath about the weather and hastily mopping up the puddle beneath him with a towel. His broad shoulders tensed as he wrung out the fabric, each motion deliberate and rough.

But when he finally looked up, his movements stilled. His expression shifted, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. His gaze softened as it landed on you, curled up on the couch beside Sarah, a blanket tucked over your lap.

"Hey, darlin’," he said, his voice low and smoother now, the rough edge from moments ago replaced with something calmer. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back from his face as droplets fell to the floor. "Didn’t know you were comin’ over," he added.

You managed a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, we’re just watching a movie."

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer before he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked briefly to the blanket draped over your legs—the same couch he’d no doubt spent countless nights on.

Something about the thought made your stomach flutter.

Sarah broke the moment, turning to you with a wide grin. "You should just stay over tonight. Ray wouldn’t mind, right?"

You blinked, startled by the sudden suggestion. "Well, I don’t think so, but—"

"Yeah, stay," Joel said before you could finish, his tone leaving little room for argument. "Don’t want you headin’ out in this storm."

You thought again about how your house was literally right next door. But the way Joel said it, his voice firm but edged with quiet concern, left you nodding before you could think better of it.

"You girls eaten?" Joel asked, heading toward the kitchen. The fridge door swung open, giving you a view of his back. His soaked shirt clung to him, highlighting the broad line of his shoulders and the muscles shifting beneath the fabric.

You caught yourself staring, heat rising to your cheeks as you quickly redirected your gaze to Sarah, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

"Yeah, pizza," Sarah said through a mouthful of popcorn, her attention already back on the TV.

Joel glanced back over his shoulder, his damp hair falling into his eyes as he gave you a brief nod. "Good," he said, his voice rumbling softly. "Storm’s supposed to last a while. Y’all need anything, just let me know."

You managed a quiet "thanks" as he closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his wet hair. The domesticity of it all—the three of you here, Joel casually moving around his kitchen—felt oddly intimate.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed the way your eyes kept flicking toward him, if he felt the same quiet pull that had been buzzing between you since the moment you’d met.

As Joel left the kitchen, heading upstairs toward what you assumed was his room to dry off, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

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The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the windows with a steady rhythm that made the night feel darker, heavier. You lay in Sarah’s bed, her soft snores filling the room, a gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the storm.

You’d texted Uncle Ray during the movie to let him know you were staying over, and his quick response—No worries, kid. I’ll see you in the morning—had put you at ease, but sleep still evaded you.

You turned onto your side again, then your back, cringing at how much noise you were making on the mattress. The last thing you wanted was to wake Sarah, but restlessness clawed at you. The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on her bedside table mocked you: 12:43 a.m.

With a soft sigh, you pushed the blanket aside and stood, the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet clinging to your skin in the stifling warmth of the room. The storm outside raged on, yet the living room felt almost oppressively hot, the flicker of the TV adding to the heavy air.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way down the hall, the muffled sound of the storm your only company. You hesitated for a moment when you passed a door—the one you assumed was Joel’s.

It was shut, the faint light spilling out from beneath it casting a soft glow on the hardwood floor. You stared at it for a beat longer than necessary, your breath catching at the thought of him just on the other side.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and continued down the stairs, the old wood creaking softly beneath your steps. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single light above the stove, and you found yourself drawn to the soft hum of the refrigerator. Opening it, you grabbed the carton of milk and poured yourself a glass, the cold liquid a small comfort against the heaviness of the storm.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped slowly, letting the chill settle in your chest as you stared out at the rain streaking the darkened windows. The quiet of the house wrapped around you, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the stillness, the way the chaos outside felt so far away.

You turned to put the milk back in the fridge when a shadow moved in the corner of your vision, a figure emerging into the dimly lit kitchen. You squealed, nearly dropping the carton, your heart lurching into your throat.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your chest.

Joel lingered in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway. His hair was still slightly damp from the earlier rain, tousled in a way that made your heart flutter. He’d changed into a plain t-shirt and sweatpants that clung to him in a way that felt almost unfair, the casual simplicity doing little to downplay his presence.

"You scared me, Joel!"

He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his gaze warm and just a little apologetic.

"Sorry ’bout that," he said, his voice rough from the late hour. "Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. Thought i heard someone down here, you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you," you said, still a little breathless. "I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe some milk would help." You gestured toward the glass on the counter, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. There was a sweetness in the way he said it, unhurried and deliberate. As you leaned against the counter, sipping your milk, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen casting an almost imperceptible veil over his gaze, but you didn’t miss it—the deliberate way he looked at you, slow and assessing.

Your pulse quickened as you suddenly became aware of yourself—the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet you were wearing, the way the hem of the shorts brushed against your thighs, and how the fabric of the singlet clung just a little too snugly in the humid air. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel exposed under the quiet intensity of his eyes.

You shifted awkwardly, the cool countertop pressing against your palms as goosebumps prickled along your arms. "Couldn’t sleep either?" you asked, breaking the tense quiet. Your eyes followed Joel as he poured himself a glass of water, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

"Nah," he replied, his voice low, almost distant as he leaned against the counter opposite you, crossing his arms. "Storm’s loud as hell. Plus… hard to turn your brain off sometimes, y’know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you. "Yeah. I know." And you did—too well, in fact. Your curiosity flickered: what kept him up tonight? What thoughts chased him through the storm?

Joel broke the stillness first, his voice softer now, almost careful. "Glad you stayed over tonight. Safer that way," he said with a small nod, as though reassuring himself as much as you.

There was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper—that made your chest feel impossibly tight.

"Thanks for having me," you murmured, your voice quieter than you’d intended, unsure why the words felt so necessary to say.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Anytime," he replied, the simplicity of his tone somehow making it feel more sincere.

His gaze flicked toward the empty glass in your hand, and he nodded toward it. "You think that did the trick?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "Nope. Not even close."

Joel’s smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. But then he glanced toward the dimly lit living room, the faint glow of the TV still visible from where you stood.

"Wanna watch a bit of TV?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "See if that helps?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet laced with something else—that made your stomach flip.

"Sure," you said softly, setting your glass in the sink before following him into the living room.

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Joel grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, the faint creak of the cushions breaking the quiet. He stretched out, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other resting on his thigh.

When he motioned for you to sit, you hesitated only for a moment before sinking down beside him, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep it comfortable—or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence impossible to ignore. His arm rested along the back of the couch, strong and relaxed, the effortless way he stretched out only drawing more attention to the empty space at his side. The thought crept in unbidden—how easy it would be to slip into that spot, to feel the solid warmth of him against you.

Your gaze drifted downward, almost of its own accord, settling on his thighs. They were spread apart in that effortless way he always seemed to sit, relaxed and confident, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched over them.

You swallowed hard, the sheer size of him suddenly overwhelming, the way his presence filled the space making you acutely aware of how small you felt by comparison. The thought sent a rush of heat to your face, your cheeks burning as your mind betrayed you with images you quickly tried to push away.

You shifted slightly, pressing your palms into your lap as if to ground yourself, but it didn’t help—his casual ease, the way he seemed completely unaware of the effect he had, only made it worse. Your heart thudded unevenly, and you forced your gaze back to the screen, praying he hadn’t noticed your flustered state.

He flipped through the channels before settling on an old movie. The name escaped you, but the grainy black-and-white film felt fitting for the quiet hum of the storm outside.

Joel started explaining something about the movie—how it was one of his favorites growing up, or maybe something about the actor. You nodded along, murmuring the occasional "oh" or "yeah," though your attention was split between his voice and the way his presence seemed to fill the space beside you.

Somehow, over the course of the movie, the space between you and Joel had disappeared. Your knees brushed at first—a light, fleeting touch that neither of you acknowledged. But as the minutes ticked by, your thighs pressed together, the warmth of him seeping into your skin in a way that made it impossible to focus on the screen.

You tried, though—eyes fixed on the TV, even as your heart raced. When you let out a small yawn, Joel’s attention shifted to you. He smirked, tapping your thigh lightly, his touch lingering just a second too long.

"Careful there, sweetheart," he teased, his voice low and warm. "You’re gonna miss the best part."

You blinked your eyes open wider, determined to shake off the haze of sleep. "I’m watching," you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

His knee pressed against yours a little more firmly, the gesture subtle but deliberate. The proximity, the teasing, the quiet intimacy of it all—it was enough to make you forget the movie entirely.

Eventually, the warmth of his voice, low and steady, became a gentle lullaby, weaving its way through the room. The steady patter of rain against the windows only added to the softness of the moment, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the deep timbre of Joel’s voice.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, despite your best efforts to fight it. You blinked hard, forcing yourself to stay present, but it was no use.

Joel didn’t even notice at first when your responses faded, replaced by the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing. It wasn’t until he felt the faint pressure of your head against his side that he froze.

His arm, which had been draped lazily along the back of the couch, went rigid, his fingers curling instinctively as his gaze dropped to you. There you were, nestled against him, your head resting lightly on his side, your face softened in sleep. The sight pulled something taut in him, a mix of tenderness and hesitation that he didn’t quite know how to navigate.

Joel swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he grappled with what to do. The warmth of you against him was inescapable, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the slow cadence of your breathing. It made him acutely aware of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

He flicked his eyes back to the TV, but the movie had long since blurred into the background. His thoughts were consumed by the quiet intimacy of the moment, by the way you’d drifted so trustingly against him, unguarded and close in a way that made his chest ache.

Slowly, carefully, he let his arm relax, resting it just behind you, close enough to shield but not too close to wake you, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

What the hell are you doin’, Joel? he thought, his heartbeat louder than it should’ve been. He could’ve moved you, gently eased you back into your spot—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he let himself sit there, unmoving, his body tense with the awareness of you. He told himself it was nothing—that it didn’t mean anything—but the way his gaze lingered on the curve of your face, the way his breath hitched when you shifted slightly against him, betrayed him.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, golden and warm, casting a serene glow over the room. The storm from the night before felt like a distant memory now, the quiet chirping of birds outside replacing the relentless drum of rain. Joel stirred, his body reluctant to wake, comforted by a rare warmth that made him hesitate to open his eyes.

For a moment, he stayed still, his mind caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.

Something felt… different.

His arm was draped across something soft, and the faintest scent of something sweet—was it your shampoo?—lingered in the air. His brow furrowed slightly, his body stiffening as he became aware of the gentle weight pressed against him.

When Joel finally opened his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light, the realization hit him.

There you were, curled into him, your head tucked against his chest, one arm draped across his stomach like it belonged there. His arm, despite his best efforts to keep his distance the night before, had somehow found its way around your back, holding you close. Your legs were tangled with his, the blanket half draped over the both of you.

Joel froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as he tried to process the situation. How the hell had this happened?

Christ, he thought, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at you. The sight of you like this—so unguarded, so peaceful—did something to him he couldn’t quite name, something that gnawed at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.

His chest tightened with a mix of emotions he wasn’t ready to face, a part of him feeling uncomfortably exposed in the stillness of the moment.

Guilt crept in, sharp and biting. What the hell are you doing, Joel? he thought bitterly. Here he was, a man two decades older than you, sitting frozen while you rested so trustingly against him. He felt like a damn pervert.

This wasn’t just friendly. He knew that. And it wasn’t about the warmth of your body against his or the way your head fit so perfectly in the curve of his side. It was something deeper, more dangerous, something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Joel’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer than it should have, his throat tightening as he took in the way the morning light danced across your features. He swallowed hard, his hand twitching as if to pull away, but instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your back, a touch so soft it barely registered.

The sound of birds chirping outside pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally forced himself to shift. The movement was small, careful, but enough to jostle you slightly.

Your brows furrowed, and for a moment, Joel thought he’d woken you. But then you murmured something unintelligible, snuggling closer into him, your hand tightening its hold on his shirt.

Joel let out a quiet breath, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling. He was in trouble—he knew that much. Whatever mental line he thought he’d drawn had been obliterated in the span of a single night.

But as the morning light filled the room and your soft breaths continued to lull him, Joel couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet. Not when the weight of you against him felt like the one thing he didn’t want to let go of.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You woke on the couch alone, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains and warming the room. Rubbing your face, you reached for your phone on the coffee table and checked the time—8:30 a.m.

You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. Stretching your legs out, you glanced around.

Joel was nowhere to be seen, and you figured he must’ve gone upstairs sometime during the night. Hell, you thought, I must’ve been a heavier sleeper than I realized.

Footsteps thudded softly on the stairs, and Sarah appeared, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She yawned as she shuffled into the living room. "Where’d you go last night?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Couldn’t sleep," you replied with a shrug, stretching your arms above your head. "Ended up watching some TV for a bit."

She nodded, yawning again as she glanced out the window. "Oh, look at that—storm’s gone, and it’s gorgeous out. Feels like it never even happened."

Her gaze shifted toward the stairs. "Where’s Dad? He’s usually run a marathon or something by now. "

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Haven't see him this morning. Maybe he decided to sleep in."

Sarah snorted, making her way toward the kitchen. "Yeah, right. That man doesn’t know how to sleep in. I bet he’s already up and out doing something."

She walked over to you, balancing a bagel in her mouth while rifling through a cabinet with one hand. "I’m gonna head upstairs to shower," Sarah said, her words muffled around the bite she’d taken. With her free hand, she pulled out a neatly folded set of towels and handed them to you. "Here—so you can use the downstairs one."

"Sounds good," you replied, taking the towels from her with a small smile. She flashed you a quick grin before heading upstairs, the sound of her footsteps disappearing as she retreated to her room.

You lingered for a moment, glancing at the towels in your hands, before stepping into the bathroom. The soft click of the door shutting behind you felt strangely loud, the space quiet except for the faint hum of the water pipes as you turned on the shower.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The hot water cascaded over your body, soothing the restless ache left from the night before. The heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Steam curled around you, fogging up the glass as you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the water drown out everything else. For a moment, it was just you, the warmth, and the faint sound of droplets hitting the tiles.

But your thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. They wandered back to last night, to Joel, to the way you’d both sat on the couch, your legs pressed against each other in a way that felt so natural, so easy.

The memory of his warmth beside you, the slight weight of his presence, made your chest tighten. You wondered when he’d gone upstairs, and a pang of regret settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished you hadn’t fallen asleep, that you’d stayed awake just a little longer—stolen a few more moments with him.

Those moments with Joel always felt fleeting, precious, as though the world conspired to keep them rare. The thought lingered in your mind until a faint sound jolted you back to reality—the distant buzz of your phone ringing.

"Shit," you muttered, realizing you’d left it on the kitchen counter. The water continued to run over you as you hesitated, your hands hovering mid-air, water dripping from your fingertips as you debated.

Leave it? The logical side of you argued it’d probably stop ringing by the time you turned off the shower, got out, and threw something on. But then again… what if it’s important?

You groaned softly, torn. The steam curled around you, the bathroom growing warmer as your mind raced. Finally, you turned off the water with a decisive twist, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself hurriedly. Better safe than sorry, you reasoned, stepping out of the shower and heading toward the kitchen, water trailing in your wake.

If Joel’s still asleep and Sarah’s upstairs, it’s fine, you told yourself as you cracked the door open, peeking out.

You stepped into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tiles, and immediately froze.

Joel stood at the stove, his broad frame dominating the small space, one hand gripping a spatula as he expertly flipped something golden and round in the pan. Pancakes. The rich scent of butter and batter filled the air, making your stomach tighten despite the whirlwind of emotions lingering from the night before.

His t-shirt stretched snugly across his shoulders, every shift of his muscles evident beneath the soft fabric. The hem lifted just slightly as he moved, revealing the faintest glimpse of tan skin and the subtle indent of his back dimples. It was such a small, fleeting detail, but it struck you like a lightning bolt, your breath catching as you took in the sight.

Your stomach dropped. Fuck. The phone had already stopped ringing, making your rush utterly pointless. You froze in place, gripping the towel tighter around yourself as your heart hammered in your chest. Just turn around, you told yourself, get back to the bathroom before—

But before you could move, Joel turned.

“Good mornin’—” he started, his voice low and easy, before his words died on his lips as his eyes landed on you.

His eyebrows shot up, his expression faltering for a split second. His gaze dropped, flicking over your body in a way that wasn’t intentional, but you caught it anyway. The towel was just a little too short, revealing more than you would’ve liked, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, the roughness of the word sent a shiver through you anyway. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the spatula like he was trying to steady himself.

You tightened your hold on the towel, your cheeks burning as you felt his eyes dart back to your face.

Say something, you thought desperately, your voice coming out uneven and breathless.

"I—I thought you were asleep," you stammered, shifting on your feet. "My phone was ringing, and I thought I’d just…" You gestured vaguely toward the counter, the words falling flat under the weight of the moment.

Joel turned back slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he was trying not to startle you—or himself. His gaze stayed polite now, carefully fixed on your face, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something dark and unspoken that made the air between you feel heavier, charged.

“Oh, no worries,” he said finally, clearing his throat and reaching to rub the nape of his neck. His fingers lingered there, the movement almost nervous—a rare sight for someone usually so steady. His voice was lower than usual, gravelly, like it took effort to keep it even. "Hope you slept alright last night."

"Yeah," you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I did. Thanks."

The silence stretched for a beat too long, the tension thrumming between you like a current you couldn’t escape.

You stepped forward, snatching your phone off the counter as quickly as you could, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ll just… grab this and get out of your way," you murmured, your voice thick with embarrassment.

Joel didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his eyes on your back as you turned to leave. "Alright," he said softly, almost too softly, his voice carrying something you couldn’t quite place.

You bolted back toward the bathroom, your heart pounding as you shut the door behind you. The steam from your shower still clung to the air, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest.

Pressing your phone to your chest, you let out a shaky breath, your mind replaying every detail of the encounter. The way his eyes had lingered, the rough edge to his voice, the tension that had filled the room like a tangible thing. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was nothing—but the way your pulse refused to settle betrayed you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel stood in the kitchen, one palm pressed flat against the counter, the other rubbing at his eyes as he let out a slow, measured breath. The room was quiet now, save for the faint sizzle of the pancake batter still cooking in the pan, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

You’re gonna be the death of me, he thought, his jaw tightening as he leaned into the counter.

Joel could still see you, the image burned into his mind no matter how much he tried to focus on the task at hand. Fresh from the shower, the towel clinging to your damp skin, outlining every curve in a way that left very little to the imagination.

The dip of your breast where the fabric didn’t quite meet your skin, the faint sheen of water droplets catching the light as they slid from your shoulders down to your thighs—it was impossible to look away, even as he forced himself to.

And then there was the way you’d stammered, your voice breathless and soft, tinged with embarrassment. It made his cock throb - a mix of guilt and desire that he couldn’t quite shake.

He shouldn’t have looked as long as he had, shouldn’t still be thinking about the way your hair dripped onto your shoulders or how your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze. But damn, it was all he could think about.

Joel had always prided himself on his self-control, on his ability to keep things steady and measured, but you were shaking the foundation he’d built so carefully.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, his jaw tight with frustration. He should’ve known better—should’ve stopped his thoughts from spiraling the moment they started.

But here he was, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he strode upstairs to his room, his hand already working at the button of his jeans before the door even clicked shut.

The strain in his pants was unbearable, every ounce of tension caused by you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Tag List:

@pedritospunk @ickearmn @nrreads @76bookworm76 @pastelpinkflowerlife @shantellorraine @spooky-sculder @merm4id5lut @brittmb115 @rosebuds-and-moonlight @joelscowgirl @spacemamax @locked-ness @bensonispunk @pal3rmo @mystickittytaco

[rose24207]

Please give us an angsty best friends to lovers with lando maybe reader can be someone’s little sister

Brothers best friend

Summary: Lando and Carlos younger sister secretly fall in love, risking their relationship with Carlos when the truth comes out.

Genre: Angst, fluff

TW: betrayal (?)

A/N: thank you for your request! You guys are masterminds when it comes to them! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

You’d grown up watching Lando race, your family so deeply intertwined with Formula 1 that the paddock felt more like home than anywhere else. Lando was Carlos’s teammate, his best friend, and—somewhere along the way—your closest friend, too.

Lando was always around, whether it was at the Sainz family villa in Madrid or on the track, laughing with Carlos. He treated you like you were part of the gang—never dismissive, never overprotective like Carlos could be.

But somewhere along the way, things shifted. A touch lingered too long, a look held more weight, and your friendship became something you weren’t sure you could define.

It was unspoken. Forbidden. And it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

The first time you realized your feelings for Lando were more than friendly was at a barbecue at the Sainz villa.

The Spanish summer heat lingered in the air, the patio alive with laughter and the sizzle of meat on the grill. Carlos was busy playing host, pouring drinks and chatting with family and friends. You sat off to the side, watching as Lando leaned against the pool railing, a drink in hand and his usual mischievous grin lighting up his face.

He caught your eye across the yard, and his grin softened. Before you could look away, he was walking over, his strides confident and easy.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?” he teased, nudging your knee with his.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just watching everyone.”

Lando plopped down beside you, so close that your knees brushed. “It’s more fun if you join in, you know.”

You smiled, but your heart was racing. His presence felt overwhelming in a way it hadn’t before. “Maybe I just like watching you embarrass yourself.”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Admit it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t around to entertain you.”

Your stomach fluttered at his teasing tone, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you haven’t told me to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you didn’t want him to leave. Ever.

The problem with unspoken feelings was that they always found ways to creep in, no matter how much you tried to ignore them.

It was late one evening in Monaco, after a long day at the track. Carlos was out with friends, leaving you and Lando alone in the living room of the apartment they shared during race weekends.

You were scrolling through your phone, curled up on the couch, when Lando sat down beside you.

“You looked good today,” he said casually.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“At the track,” he clarified, his eyes fixed on you. “I saw you in the garage. You looked… happy.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “It’s nice seeing you smile like that. Makes my day better.”

The words were simple, but the way he said them made your heart ache. You looked away, biting your lip.

“You’re too nice to me,” you murmured.

“Not possible,” he replied softly.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something neither of you was ready to acknowledge.

It happened in Silverstone, the weekend of the British Grand Prix.

You’d stayed late in the paddock, hanging around the McLaren garage under the pretense of “supporting Carlos.” But in reality, you were waiting for Lando.

When he finally emerged, still in his race suit, his face lit up at the sight of you. “What are you still doing here?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Thought I’d say hi before heading out.”

“Lucky me,” he said, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

You walked with him toward the team motorhome, the quiet of the paddock wrapping around you like a blanket. It was only when you reached a secluded corner that he stopped, turning to face you.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice unusually soft.

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“Do you ever think about us? About… what this is?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to say it, to break the fragile balance you’d been clinging to.

“Lando…”

He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “I know I shouldn’t. You’re Carlos’s sister. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hung in the air, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “I think about you, too.”

The kiss that followed was soft, hesitant, like neither of you could believe it was happening. But when his hands cupped your face, and you leaned into him, it felt like everything finally made sense.

You and Lando knew the risks. Carlos was fiercely protective, and the idea of you dating his best friend was bound to set him off. But you couldn’t stay away from each other, no matter how hard you tried.

It all came to a head one evening when Carlos walked into the McLaren motorhome and found you sitting too close to Lando, his hand resting on your knee.

The look on Carlos’s face was enough to make your stomach drop.

“¿Qué mierda es esto?” he demanded, his voice loud enough to make everyone in the room turn.

“Carlos—” you started, but he cut you off, his glare fixed on Lando.

“You’re my sister,” he said, his tone a mix of betrayal and anger. “And you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Carlos, let me explain—” Lando began, standing up.

“You don’t need to explain anything,” Carlos snapped. “I trusted you, Lando.”

The tension was unbearable, the weight of Carlos’s anger making it hard to breathe.

“Stop it!” you finally shouted. “This isn’t just about you, Carlos. It’s about me and Lando. And I love him.”

Your words silenced the room. Carlos stared at you, his expression softening slightly before hardening again.

“Do you have any idea what you’re risking?” he said quietly. “What happens if this goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” Lando said firmly, stepping closer to you. “I’d never hurt her, Carlos.”

Carlos looked between the two of you, his jaw clenched. “You’d better not.”

It took time for Carlos to come around. He didn’t like the idea of you dating Lando, but he loved you too much to stand in the way of your happiness.

“I’ll never get used to this,” he admitted one day, watching as Lando held your hand across the table. “But if you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

“I am,” you said, squeezing Lando’s hand.

And for the first time, you felt like you could finally breathe.

Thank you for reading!

[spicythistlesatdawn]

If dark stories aren't your taste please skip this one

Pairings: poly!141 x oc (Thistle)

CW: torture, ptsd, inaccurate medical and military stuff. dead dove do not eat. Angst. I am literally planning to hurt your feelings with this one. There will be some comfort because I'll be hurting my own feelings to write this as well

This fic has to do with how Thistle met 141 and why she's with them.

"Ach, cannea believe it's been six feckin years cartin yer ass aboot with us," Soap was slurring slightly, the third pint he'd been nursing was loosely gripped as he looked at Thistle. The dark-haired woman frowned and mulled that over. Six fuckin years. That was a long time to know people. It'd been five years of living with them, and four that the five of them had agreed to a tentative relationship. Today, they were celebrating her "birthday".

"Six years to the day," she said softly, watching how Simon settled into the booth and crowded Johnny closer to the middle. Keep the little shit from sprinting off as he tended to the deeper into his beer he got. Gaz was on her right, leaning his head on her shoulder as he simply mellowed out with the buzz in his veins and humming to whatever little tune played in his mind. Currently Hot to Go was the favorite of the hour.

"Does bein a year older feel much better this time 'round?" Simon asked as he hooked his arm around Johnny, the younger man mumbling something a tad incoherent. There was something to be said for this night, with each passing year the memories faded just a little more.

The room she was locked in was cold, dark. The only sound she could hear was an insistent drip of water meant to drive her out of her own head. There had been screaming earlier. Her throat was raw, so maybe it had been her screaming. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember much currently. Shifting from the spot she had taken on her knees, a strangled noise left her. She must have been in this position for a while. Her knees had locked, and the slices up her right thigh had crusted over. Her entire left thigh felt like flames were eating at it, deep divots having been taken out of the flesh. She knew better than to make a noise, and noises made them mad.

"-le. Thistle." Her head snapped up, mind pulling from the trenches as she blinked rapidly. Price was staring at her now, concern etching even more wrinkles into that handsome face. "You with it, lovie?"

"Aye... yeah. I'm here, Cap..." she was not with it. Too much alcohol, it was wearing her mind down. Nagging at dormant memories. "The youngins look like they need carried home." She said even if she was barely older than Soap and Gaz by three years. The thirty year old numpties were by classification: lightweights. Soap more than Gaz.

Gaz was currently playing with her free hand, admiring the scars over her knuckles and on her fingertips as he flipped it over. To and fro. She turned her head and nuzzled her nose into the twists she had pain stakingly helped him manage over the last two months. "M'not in need of carryin' lovie..." he murmured tiredly. Giving a blissful sigh when Price pressed into his other side. Thistle was effectively caged in by her four burly men and felt an odd peace settle in her shoulders.

They'd managed to get everyone home, Kyle and Soap had been placed in a shared room with the ensuite bathroom in case the poor fuckers puked. Simon and John took the other shared bedroom down the hallway, and Thistle was curled up on the couch. She wasn't ready to crawl into bed, and while it irritated Price, Si seemed to understand. This day wasn't exactly easy. On this very day, they'd found her, lost, broken, couldn't even remember her own name.

It was raining the men who'd been in charge of "cleaning" her were being loud. Sneering something at her. Something she couldn't understand because she didn't know what language they spoke in. When they manhandled her to clean her, she didn't fight, said nothing, she was a limp doll. The limp doll was still kicked around. Spat on. Demeaned and degraded. It had been like this for so long. She didn't even have the strength anymore to scratch a line into the wall. She couldn't even remember why in the world she was scratching into the wall. What the lines meant. The only thought in her pretty battered little head was her favorite weed. The one that stung and bit and left pain in ones fingers for days. A simple little Thistle.

Head empty. It's quiet. There used to be more screaming, but she couldn't say when that had been. How many voices there might have been. Someone had been screaming a name, "Kassandra!!". That was dangerous. Names are weapons and knowledge that let's someone dig deeper. Sink their twisted claws into your skull. Rip it open and sip at your own personal being. It felt like someone was ripping into skin. The stench of blood was clogging her nose. Head empty. No thoughts.

She jerked hard in someone's arms when she was scooped up. Her fist flew before her brain could register the arms that held her. Gaz let out a yelp and dropped Thistle when she blinked her eyes open she saw the poor man cupping his nose. She could smell blood and had to smack a hand over her mouth. Turning away from the poor man as he backed away. Whining about his nose. "Mah nose... jesuhs fuck.."

"Christ, Thistle, what did ye do to poor Kyle?" Thistle wasn't able to respond, vaulting herself over the couch because her stomach would not fucking stop rolling. She was heaving now because she'd seen the crimson on Gaz's dark skin. Had caught another whiff of that vile copper. She didn't make it to a bathroom. Hands and knees wretching on the floor as Soap called for Price.

Distantly, Thistle was aware of more feet. Heavier steps. Someone calling her. Hands and knees, heaving until her stomach was emptied. Head throbbing.

Price was there in an instant, scooping up Thistle. Speaking lowly to Soap to get Kyle to the guest bathroom to clean up. He was aware of the way that Thistle went limp when he scooped her up. Clutching her that much closer as he took her to the master bedroom. Simon had put himself on clean-up duty in the end. Getting the rags and the scented cleaning supplies. Anything but bleach, knowing the lingering burn of it would make matters worse once Price managed to bring Thistle back to them.

"I didn't mean to startle her so bad.. I just wanted to bring her to bed with Tav and I," Simon listened quietly as Gaz explained softly. Johnny was currently in the process of starting laundry for Gaz. Making sure all signs of blood had been scrubbed away. She'd gotten Gaz pretty good with her flailing arm. He was touching his sore nose gingerly and looking it over with a down turn of his full lips.

"You know she'll be pleadin f'r forgiveness the moment she sees ya. Won't let you take none o' the blame," Simon soothed gently. They'd all startled her at one point or another. Hell, he'd scared the daylights out of her so badly once he was sporting a stab wound in his thigh. Gaz looked right wrankled about it, though. To some extent, the man was reasonably upset that he'd been whacked hard enough that now his nose looked slightly puffy, and his eye lids looked like he'd taken the brunt of a fist. But he was also beating himself up for scaring their Thistle so badly. None of them could actually predict when Thistle would come out of it. Price had gotten her bathed, dressed, and into the master bed. She'd yet to respond to the soft plea of their captain.

It's cold again. Her toes are sinking into snow, and she's running. Someone made a mistake. Someone left the door open. She'd been so motionless for so long. Nothing but a pile of mutilated flesh and blood. Reeking of infection and so still. The copper tang of blood clogged her nose. Not even fresh snow could clean it. Not even water when she fell through the river. Body shaking and mind reeling. Where was she. Who was she. Was this real? It must be. Red was staining the snow where she lay. Spreading its cruel tendrils and using her life force to soak into the soil. If she died here, she hoped thistles would bloom. She prayed that thistles would bloom in the hearts of those who wasted her blood. Wasted the blood of faces she no longer had a name to.

"Cap! Steamin' Jesus... Cap we goot a boady!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Feck it. This is part 1 my guys.

:) swearsies there'll be more.

[maddiethedogstories]

New You Gym - 16

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

As Kylee opened her eyes, she was confused. Was she still dreaming? She was staring through the bars of a giant crib, like the one Daddy, no, Michael, Michael had locked her in in her dream. But, the room was different. Instead of being in her guest-room-turned-giant-nursery, she was looking out at a daycare.

Kylee took her thumb out of her mouth and pushed herself up, feeling dried drool running down her hand and from the corner of her mouth. She sat on her diapered butt and immediately regretted the decision. Her ass felt painfully itchy, not like she had been spanked, but more like she hadn't wiped thoroughly and her skin had became irritated. Emily shuffled onto her knees to avoid the irritation, grabbing the bars of the crib to examine her surroundings.

As Kylee came out of her brain fog, the door to the daycare slammed open again. Just like last time, Kylee jumped. To her shock, she suddenly could feel her diaper warming underneath her again. Did I just wet myself again? Kylee thought as she saw an incredibly tall, beautiful woman walk through the door of the daycare.

Suddenly, everything came back to Kylee as she watched Julie enter the room. The haze cleared from her brain at the same time that the smell of her drying shit hit her nose. At the same time, Julie began walking towards Kylee with a predatory grin.

"Oh, my naughty little girl is up! Play time with Mr. Bear really wore you out. You've been asleep for hours!" Julie said as she approached the crib. Kylee felt her whole body turn red at her memory of cumming in a poopy diaper while humping a stuffed bear.

"Oh, is baby embarrassed? That's okay, you were just being a good girl and doing precisely what Nanny asked, remember?" Julie said as she approached the bars of the crib. When Julie reached the crib, she scrunched her nose up. "Oh, baby, you sure are stinky though! Did you poop yourself again in your sleep? Let's get you into a fresh diapie."

Julie then unlatched the side of the enormous crib, lowered it, and lifted Kylee out with the Amazonian strength that Kylee had begun to recognize as normal for Julie.

As she was lifted from the crib, Kylee wrapped her arms and legs around Julie like a toddler, allowing herself to be carried by the much larger and stronger woman. As she felt Julie's hand press against her messy diaper to provide support, Kylee recognized that Julie was right: her diaper smelled atrocious and the itchy discomfort she was feeling was likely diaper rash. Kylee decided that she was not going to fight getting cleaned up.

Julie carried Kylee over to the changing table and laid her down. She undid the tapes of the smaller woman's diaper, revealing the dried mess caking the entirety of Kylee's buttock and groin. Kylee looked down momentarily and almost puked.

"What a mess! Let's get you wiped up," Julie said as she methodically began changing Kylee into a clean diaper.

"Oh my, look at your angry, red, little behind!" Julie said as she wiped Kylee clean. "Looks like Little Miss Stinky Bottom has a diaper rash! I guess it serves you right. Maybe it'll remind you to be properly padded when you come here next time!"

"I… I'm so sorry. Have I done enough? Are you going to tell Michael about what… um… happened?" Kylee stuttered out nervously.

"Yes, sweetie, I think you've proven yourself and learned your lesson. But, you are going to have some new ground rules going forward. Nanny wants a new charge to look after, and I think you've proven you need someone to take care of you over your last two visits here. Don't you agree?" Julie responded to Kylee.

Kylee looked away from Julie in shame as she answered Julie's question. "Yes, Nanny."

"But, we'll get to the new rules later. For now, let Nanny help you feel a little more comfortable." Julie started to spread diaper rash cream all over Kylee's irritated groin and ass. Kylee moaned with a new type of pleasure: the pleasure that comes from feeling relief from chronic discomfort. "Oh, that feels good baby girl? I'll send you home with some of this. Just make sure to put your rash cream on every few hours. Maybe your Daddy, sorry, I mean husband, will help you."

Kylee just groaned in response as she realized she was going to have to explain the diaper rash to Michael. She had no clue how she was going to do that.

Julie noticed the concern plastered on her charge's face. "Oh, sweetheart, don't worry about how you're going to tell your husband. I've already got that covered," Julie said reassuringly, "but that ties into all of Nanny's new rules for you."

Kylee swallowed nervously as Julie taped up the new, dry diaper.

"Before we get to those, though, you must be thirsty. Let's get you in the highchair, settled in with a bottle. Then we can discuss the first day of your new life!" Julie said cheerily.

Once again, Kylee put up no resistance as Julie picked her up and carried her across the room. This time, Julie sat Kylee in the giant highchair that Kylee had seen earlier, then slid the tray in place, effectively locking the diapered woman into the chair. Julie then went to another part of the room where a sink, small refrigerator, and cabinet were located. Kylee watched nervously as Julie pulled out a gigantic baby bottle and filled it with what appeared to be milk from the fridge.

While Kylee waited for Julie to make the bottle, Kylee wiggled in her seat a bit. Kylee never thought she would feel this way, but she appreciated the presence of the diaper she was wearing. The soft, dry and clean padding was a drastic improvement from the incredibly full diaper she had just changed out of. The combination of the feeling of a clean diaper and the relief from the rash cream felt wonderful.

Julie walked back over to Kylee handing her the bottle. "Drink some of Nanny's special milk while we talk about your new rules."

Kylee took the bottle as directed and started sucking. She was a bit surprised at the taste. She was expecting the white liquid to taste like cow's milk, but when it hit her tongue, it tasted sweet and almost fruity. The consistency was ever so slightly different from cow's milk too. Although it was different, it was not unpleasant. Kylee paused momentarily, worried about the strange texture and flavor, but quickly resumed suckling. Kylee was afraid of Julie, and did not want the giant woman questioning her obedience again.

"Good girl," Julie said, watching Kylee drink from the bottle without question, "Now for your new rules."

"First, you will always refer to me as Nanny. Because you have proven yourself no better than an unreliable little girl who can't keep her pants dry, you clearly need more adult supervision. I will provide that supervision. I will be, for all intents and purposes, your Nanny."

"Second, this is a gym. You became a member here to get some personal training. I want to make sure you get that training. The problem is, the training you need isn't exercise. What you need is clearly potty training. As your Nanny, I am going to be your personal potty trainer. That means I am going to set the rules around when and how you do your little wee-wees and poo-poos, understood?"

Kylee nodded her head from behind the bottle, blushing thinking of being re-potty trained in her late 20s.

"Third, we the idea that you need personal training in mind, I need to put you on a regular training regimen. That means I will need to see you more often. You will report to this daycare in this gym every day for an hour a day at least until I say otherwise."

"Fourth, when you come to the gym, you will wear proper attire, unlike today. I believe we proved today that you cannot be trusted here unpadded. Further, at this point, I don't even think I can trust you in something as mature as a pull-up. When you show up, you WILL be wearing a diaper, understood? I will send you home with a pack. I expect it to be used."

Kylee just nodded her head in agreement again.

"Now, my final rule for you has to do with your potty training and how you are going to explain your diaper rash to your husband."

Kylee felt a pit growing in her stomach. She knew she wasn't going to like where this was going.

"Your husband stopped by while you were sleeping to take you home. I had to tell him about your first little accident today. He knows you are struggling to keep your pretty little panties dry."

Kylee blushed deeply. She pulled the bottle out of her mouth. "Did you tell him about the… the…" Kylee couldn't say the word.

"Your little poopy problem? No. He doesn't know how naughty his wife is… yet," Julie said. "But, him knowing about your little pee-pee problems does set the stage for what I need you to do to become properly potty trained."

"You have proven that your potty training the first time around was inadequate. To do this right, we need to start from scratch. That means you need to be in diapers full time at home as well as here at the gym."

"What?! No! Michael would know something was wrong if I suddenly started wearing diapers out of no where!" Kylee cried out worriedly.

"I know, I know baby! Shush, shush! Nanny isn't a monster. We are going to transition you back to diapers slowly. YOU are going to convince your husband you NEED to wear diapers," Julie said, taking control of the conversation again.

"Well, first, I am obviously going to send you home in a diaper. Michael already took your wet pants and panties and will understand your need to be diapered on the way home."

"Second, when Michael sees your diaper rash, you are going to tell him at least a half truth. You were stressed from wetting your panties again. I let you wear a diaper and take a nap in the daycare. You fell asleep in the diaper, wet it in your sleep, didn't change it in time, and got a diaper rash."

"But, but… that's so embarrassing Jul… I mean Nanny," Kylee said.

"More embarrassing than the truth?" Julie asked rhetorically, giving the other woman a knowing look. Kylee remained silent, looking down at the tray of her highchair and the half finished bottle of mystery liquid.

"That's what I thought," Julie continued. "Now, this is where the next step of your potty training comes in. To start to remove your potty training and convince your hubby you need diapers, we need to start small. Small, here, meaning until I move you to the next phase, I am ordering you to wet the bed every night."

"Wha… What?" Kylee asked incredulously.

"You heard me baby. From now on, you are a bedwetter. You are not allowed to use the potty from the time you lay your head down in bed until your alarm goes off in the morning," Julie demanded. "You don't have to wear pullups or diapers, for now, if you don't want to, but I expect a picture every morning of either wet sheets or wet padding."

Kylee shuddered thinking of purposefully pissing herself every night while laying in bed with Michael. It definitely would only take him a few days before he got fed up and forced her into wearing nighttime protection himself. Kylee was horrified at how well thought out Julie's plan was.

"But, but, but, that's not fair!" Kylee whined, "I'm not a bedwetter!"

"Not fair? Would you rather call of our deal? I have Michael's number. I can send him that video and this'll all be over," Julie offered, pulling out her phone.

"No, no. Stop! I'll… I'll do it. I'll be a bedwetter for you… Nanny," Kylee said, knowing she had been thoroughly defeated.

"Good girl," Nanny said, putting away her phone. "Now that that is all settled, why don't you finish that bottle of special Nanny juice, and I'll call Emily up to drive you home."

Kylee had the bottle halfway to her lips when she froze. "Emily?" She stammered.

[fleurvi]

Strap Worship | Mikasa Ackerman

genre: smut (mdni)

pairing: mikasa ackerman x fem!reader

cw: sub!mikasa, strap-on sex, strap-sucking, deepthroating, reader refers to the strap as their cock once.

wc: 700+

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There's something addictive about having a woman as powerful as Mikasa Ackerman on her knees in front of you. At first, she let you take charge in the bedroom because you were more experienced, but over time, she learned that she likes giving up control to you. She has to be precise to a worrying degree everywhere else in her life, and it's freeing to relax a little bit and let someone else take care of her. Sometimes, Mikasa wants to please you; you always take care of her, and she wants to help you now.

She knees in front of you, completely naked, helping fasten your strap-on harness. When she's done she places open-mouthed kisses on your hip until you thread your fingers through her short hair and tug her away.

“You wanna help me out, pretty girl? You wanna do something for me?” you ask, holding her head in place near the tip of your strap, which you tap against her lips when she mutters out a ‘yes.’ The verbal response makes you smile; she was too shy to do anything other than nod the first time you had sex, and you had to prompt the words out of her. “How about you get this cock nice and slick so I can fuck you?”

You lose your grip but don't pull your fingers free as she leans forward and wraps her lips around the tip. Some people may be confused as to why you would ask her to do something when you can't physically feel it. The answer is simply that it looks fucking hot. The obvious power dynamic at play sends chills down your spine, and the visual of Mikasa wrapping her pretty pink lips around your strap is enough to have you moaning out loud. Mikasa isn't faring much better, whimpering around your cock as she takes it further and further into her mouth.

“Yeah, just like that, you look so fucking good down on your knees for me,” you say, encouraging her as she begins to bob her head. She's enthusiastic as she sucks, drool pools at the corners of her mouth. She makes it sloppy for you, a perfect picture to get you off to. If she stayed down there for long enough, you may be able to cum just from watching her. The noises she makes are sinful, gagging slightly as the tip hits the back of her throat. She braces one hand on your thigh and reaches the other up to interlock it with your hand that isn't still in her hair. She takes the strap all the way to the base, keeping eye contact with you. “Atta girl,” you praise, holding her in place until she pushes off of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as Mikasa tilts her head up, and you get a good look at her. Her eyes look desperate and hazy, and her mouth hangs open, panting for air. There's a line of saliva connecting her lips to the toy, joined by drool settling over her bottom lip. Her hair is messed up, clenched tightly in your fist. She looks completely ruined, and you haven't even touched her pussy yet.

“Fuck my face,” she begs, voice hoarse. “Please, I need it.”

You listen, holding her head in place as you slip your cock back between her lips. You start your thrusts gently, careful not to hurt her, but she grabs hold of your thigh and whines for you to go faster. You keep at your current pace, making a gradual increase in roughness. The filthy gagging noises and moans that force their way past the toy when you rock your hips into her waiting mouth are like fuel to you, driving your cock to the back of her throat.

The strap is soaked, and her pretty pussy is dripping for you. You pull your strap-on out of her mouth, grinning at the way her mouth stays open. You lean down, looking her in the eyes as you spit into her open mouth. She swallows like a good girl as she awaits her next instructions.

“Get on the bed, hands and knees. I'm gonna fuck this pussy so good”

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thanks for reading!!

timeskip mikasa with her short hair is soooo fine like I picture her as a mask in my head bc I think she'd dress masc too and oooooh masc mikasa is so hot 🤤💦

[aintgonnatakethis]

Violence! 2, 3, 9, 23! 🗡🗡

Em, hi! 👋 Thanks for the ask! @eddiestattoos

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Any of y'all remember the horrific mess that was the ending of Our Flag Means Death season 2? 'Izzy was better off dead because with only one leg his life wasn't worth living'. The sheer audacious level of ableism really knocked me flat! 😐

9. worst part of canon

So SGU season 2 episode 12 Twin Destinies… Overriding the safety protocols in order to dial within a star is possibly the STUPIDEST plan anyone in Stargate has ever had (and there have been some real doozies!) Destiny functions as a battery, which means she cannot deal with power input and output simultaneously. By forcing the issue, they are trying to use her as a capacitor, which she is simply not built for. It was always going to end in tears! Example: turn on your electric toothbrush, place it on its charging station. It will automatically turn itself off because it's a battery and trying to be a capacitor would result in its innards shorting out. Poor Destiny!

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

I never really thought about Sheppard/Woolsey before seeing someone I follow recommend this fic. Went into it expecting to get bored or squicked pretty quickly, but boy howdy! 😳

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Hmm this is a tough one, as the different versions of the characters I have swimming around in my skull are quite varied… Let's pick Rush, as many versions of him retain the desire to not bottom across quite a few of my series (kink-turned-not-kink and Vamp AU). This is because when he was a teenager, his drink was spiked and he was sexually assaulted. I think it's impossible to say he'd never bottom again, but he would have to trust the other person to an extreme degree.

I actually have the start of a fic written for the kink series quite far along in his relationship with Telford where he asks for it. My goal for it is to be full service top Telford (who prefers bottoming but will also jump on the chance to Provide™) Have a snippet!

"What?" Telford teases. "You're worried I'll say no?" Rush's laughter is quiet and full of anxiety. "No. I don't foresee any possibilities of circumstance where you say no." Telford's getting bored, resisting the urge to shift on the bed. "So why the hell are your panties in a bunch?" Rush stares at him, a really deep searching look that Telford immediately feels uncomfortable at being the focus of. "I've thought about it at great length," Rush finally says, barely able to force the words out. "And I've decided that it might be an enjoyable exercise for you to fuck me." What a romantic way to put it, Telford thinks, regarding Rush neutrally. "Is this a trick question?" Rush doesn't seem to process the words for several seconds, before his jaw tightens and he delivers a clipped, "...What." "Trick question. Where no matter what answer I give you're going to get pissed off. Everett's told me all about them."

choose violence ask game

[groovysins]

I think it's time .

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[affableramen]

no nut november day 1. how to make them come for the really horny darlings who read my smol insignificant blog :)

crack, smut, established relationships mature themes, minors dni

Wriothesley:

he loves when you choke him really well. he goes crazy once your hands start squeezing his neck

grabbing or scratching his butt. Wriothesley loves when you touch his rounded ass, and if you do he will definitely lose it

Tartaglia:

when you moan loudly, tartaglia loses his mind. he loves when you vocalise your sensations and satisfaction

praising him. tartaglia is not very experienced in bed activities, so he’d be really grateful if you kept praising him while having sex cause it makes him feel encouraged to proceed.

Neuvillette:

being on your knees for him (he does not expect that from anyone because he is such a humble individual, and it turns him on almost instantly)

when you take charge and offer him to have sex by your initiative. do not get me wrong, neuvillette is anything but submissive man, however even he gets tired of being constantly the controlling one. he wants you to be bold and shameless too

Pantalone:

when you play with, pull or grip his hair, it makes pantalone go insane. he is very sensitive to your touch in general, and he especially loves it when you try to tease him by playing with his wavy locks. he will be turned on immensely

when you touch his nipples (his erogenous zone. rub them nice and well, he will cum hard, mumbling “have mercy on me” to you)

Ayato:

dirty talking to him (praising his cock mostly) he loves his sex a bit dirty and overstimulating

when you slightly dominate him. this man is fed and sick of people constantly servicing him and seeing his s/o showing responsibility and taking a bold action like riding him will make him nut wildly

Capitano:

squeezing him inside. his manhood is thick, and the tip is fat enough to make him feel things when you suddenly tense up. capitano will give in to his passion, you will hear loud impatient grunting escaping his mouth that you never knew you needed

when you call him by his real name. in most circumstances capitano hates it when someone mentions his true old name, but when you do it during intimate moments he simply goes nuts for you. the way his name falls from your lips when he thrusts into you fast and hard enough just gets him going

Alhaitham:

he adores when you scratch his back. you always fear hurting him, but alhaitham wears your marks proudly and insists on you to not hold your passion in. he needs more of those blooming red marks of lust on his body

when you assist his thrusts by forcing your hips closer to him. he enjoys when you participate in love making equally to him, and will definitely cum unexpectedly generously if you continue

Dottore:

when you play by his rules. dottore is a very old and assertive man who’s used to things happen his way. at first he will kindly ask you to follow his lead but later on he will be incredibly blunt and dominant with you

when you use his vibrator on himself. not to mention him liking impressing you with new toys, when you grab one and press it against his skin, he will squirt his release earlier and thicker than expected

Dainsleif:

when you moan or whisper sweet nothings into his ear. this makes him particularly horny, especially given how much your voice turns him on in a private setting

when you try to unnoticeably run your hands over his hips. there is something about your claws grazing over his strong legs that makes him go completely frenzied for you

Baizhu:

when you bite his ears and neck. baizhu has those very sensitive and he will come almost instantly if you tease the delicious earlobes and neck of his.

when you wear sexy outfits. he likes to take you when you’re wearing those naughty, revealing but incredibly gorgeous outfits. he practically loses control of his arousal and can come even prematurely simply because he is staring at your beautiful body

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ “have you ever tried this one?” in which kook!sweetheart!reader convinces rafe to take her to go see one of her favorite artists, and as a ‘thank you’ she and rafe have to do whatever position sabrina demo’s for her song “juno..”

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink (?)

a/n: so sad because i didn’t get to see sabrina on tour, and she has had me in the meanest chokehold lately :( click this link to see what position i’m referring to <3

when the dates dropped for sabrina’s ‘short n’ sweet’ tour, rafe wasted no time in buying you two tickets. of course, you didn’t know this and begged him for weeks until he finally told you yes, your flight and hotel room already booked for a nice little weekend getaway. rafe helped you make your concert outfit, both of you spending hours on the whole ensemble. the end result was absolutely stunning and rafe couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

he posted one on the night of the concert, captioning it ‘my little popstar princess <3’ and you two were off to the stadium. while you knew wearing sparkly white platform boots wouldn’t be the best choice to walk in, you stuck it through, and as soon as the lights dimmed and the music started, any kind of discomfort you felt had melted away as you were far too distracted singing along to every song that boomed through the venue.

babydoll lingerie top with pink fluffy trim, dedazzled stockings, glittery makeup, your hair freshly done, rafe swore you never looked prettier. even though he was against wearing anything that sparkled, he decided to wear a plain pink t-shirt to match with you in his own little way. he kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you two sung, having learned the lyrics to every song since you insisted on being in charge of the aux cord whenever you two were in his truck.

eventually, you two were swaying softly, rafe’s chin resting in the curve of your neck as you stroked the skin of his arm. “thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him, connecting your lips as the intro to ‘juno’ started playing. rafe hummed, leaning down so you could hear him. “you know i had to bring you, baby.. what do you say you thank me another way when we get back to our room?” your cheeks heated as you laughed softly.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you pecked his cheek, “how about we do the position she does for the song?” rafe smiled, both of you fixing your attention on the stage. you waited with anticipation, your heart beating in your ears when she bent over and touched her toes. rafe cheered, making you laugh as he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. luckily for him, there was only a few more songs left before the show ended and the two of you rushed out of there.

it wasn’t long after you two walked through the door that rafe had your boots thrown in a forgotten corner, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he took you roughly from behind. you struggled to keep your hands placed on your perfectly pedicured toes, your knees threatening to give out from under you while rafe thrusted into you at an unforgiving pace. “holy fuck, you’re taking it so fuckin’ good, gorgeous, ‘might just let you get off your tippy toes and put you on your back instead.”

you cried out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as his pelvis smacked against the back of your ass. “can’t, rafe!” you shrieked, nearly doubling over before your boyfriend reached down and grabbed your arms, holding you by your wrists as you hung helplessly from his grip. he was fucking you stupid, and your lack of thoughts was proof of it. you couldn’t think, the feeling of rafe’s cock stroking that soft gummy spot inside of you made you whimper pathetically.

finally, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your knees meeting the carpeted floor. rafe picked you up, cursing under his breath as he encouraged you to get back in position. “promise i’ll have you in bed soon, pretty, you could hold out for me, yeah?” you shuddered, looking at him from behind your shoulder with that fucked-out gaze he loved so much. you had tears in your eyes, your body glitter still sparkling under the soft lighting.

giving him a little nod, you reached down once again, holding onto your ankles for dear life as rafe circled an arm under your hips, holding you up as his fingers started working on your clit. “oh!” you were in hysterics, your blood rushing to your head as he landed a harsh smack to your backside. “come on, baby, ‘wanna feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you moaned at his words, your orgasm just in arm’s reach as rafe’s thrusts grew uncalculated. “rafe?” you could barely speak, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“talk to me.” he groaned, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “make me juno?” you giggled for a split second, the insinuation only turning rafe on even more. “fuck, yeah? ‘want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” you let out a distorted “mhmm!’, the two of you gasping when your highs took you both to cloud nine. rafe pulled you back up, your chest rising and falling while your legs shook with your orgasm. pressing wet kisses to your neck, rafe did exactly as he said, his hips stuttering as hot, thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls.

you two stayed like this, pressed against one another until your breathing slowed, the aftershocks subsiding before rafe laid you both down in bed. “we should have a ‘short n’ sweet’ themed baby shower.. we could serve espressos.” rafe laughed, draping an arm over your tummy. “we’ll see.” he hummed. your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed him in, his cologne still heavy on his skin. “you know what we should try when we get back home?” rafe traced shapes into your side, mumbling a ‘what’s that?’

“pink fuzzy handcuffs.”

[riboism]

tear you apart

》 mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader

》 wc: 3.3k

》 plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desire—and a conflict that could jeopardize everything.

》 content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut

🎧 tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin

It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performance—yet your heart raced wildly in your chest.

Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season. 

Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldn’t deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerful—seen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you. 

"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.

"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And now—well, I hear he’s eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."

There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his father’s sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family business—a role he’d taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment. 

It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful. 

Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasn’t his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldn’t look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadn’t known could exist. 

The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented. 

From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distraction—anything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.

His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay grounded—but he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell you’d cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.

Seonghwa knew he couldn’t keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast. 

—

It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.

You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.

The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.

Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.

Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fear—a quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldn’t ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you. 

“I’m sorry, c-can I help you with something?”

He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little details—your stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, “Park Seonghwa. I’m from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.” Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.” 

"Y/N...Congratulations on being this season’s Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "You’ve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."

You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.

He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.

Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.

"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "We’ve been discussing a potential business venture together."

The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadn’t seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwa’s reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his family’s business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoong’s reluctance began to waver.

That first night, they’d arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” He said, towering over you, “I could actually use your help in something.” 

There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?

“And what might that be?” You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologne— spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. You’d seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldn’t look away. 

"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again. 

"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.

"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You’re making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted… it causes complications."

He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.

"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little… issue of mine."

Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter. 

"And how exactly would I… help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."

—

You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles. 

The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves. 

“Such a fat little pussy,” he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. “Didn’t think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.” 

You couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.

“Let’s see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?” He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.

“Please,” You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin. 

“Please what dear? You want more?” Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter. 

You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like he’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines he’d ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will. 

His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest. 

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished here,” He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, “There’s still a lot of things I need you to do.”

—

You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis. 

You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds. 

“You taste just as sweet as you look,” He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily. 

Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.

Seonghwa told himself he’d finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried he’d never be able to stay away. 

Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt. 

Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

“Fuck!” You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that he’d finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.

You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didn’t want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.

“Look at how good you fucking take me,” He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. “ ‘Take me just like a good girl.” 

Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!”

You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.

Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldn’t help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity. 

When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.

He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.

Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didn’t know what this meant for his current predicament—how this would complicate everything—but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon. He’s marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.

[mostly-imagines]

Still Wanna Play?

jason todd x afab!reader

aka jason puts you back in your place

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), soft!dom jason, (attempted) soft!dom reader

When Jason returned from patrol last night you were in a mood. The second he walked in your bedroom you’d given him those eyes, those sweet, wide eyes. The ones that let him know you want him to do whatever he wants to you, as long as he does something.

He’d settled on pinning your wrists to your stomach and holding them there as he ate you out, only breaking away to tease you about how desperate you were for him to take care of you.

And you were, to be fair.

But now, as you lay in bed next to him hours later, your mind starts to drift into what-if territory. But not your usual, worst-case scenarios. Something new. Something…interesting.

What if he was that desperate for you to take care of him? Would he even let you push him that far?

You’d never really tried to reverse your roles—you’ve been on top plenty, but always with his hands around you, controlling your pace or his words of direction.

But you really wanted to know.

You turn your body to fully face him, making quick work of removing his book from his hands and setting it open on the bedside table.

Your proximity returns quickly, nustling up against his side, placing scattered kisses along his bicep.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?”

“Nothin’, Jay. Just wanna be close to you.”

He hums, skeptical. You’re not usually so forward with initiating, especially after you’ve already had your fun that night.

You shift up onto your knees, climbing across him to sit on his lap.

He grabs your waist and you break away from your stream of kisses. You place your hands on his wrists, though barely able to wrap them halfway around, moving his hands off of you.

He looks at you funny, unsure of what exactly you’re going for here. You guide his hands down to the bed, pressing down on them lightly before returning your touch to the sides of his face.

You lean further into the kiss, forcing him to lay back on the bed.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and moves a hand up to find your body again. You move it back down by his side again, not halting your kiss this time.

He pulls back from the kiss and looks up at you, studying you.

“What are you playing at?”

You smile, shaking your head lightly, “Just wanna play.”

You start to roll your hips on him, making him groan. He starts to shift under you again and you nip a light bite on his neck that makes him still.

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue, “You wanna be in charge? Is that it?”

You pull back to meet his eyes and nod, your lack of vocalization not helping your mission. Still though, he’s not making any moves to take over.

“Think you can do it? It’s a big job, baby.”

You nod your head quickly. “I can, Jay.” You assert. “I will.”

He tilts his head at you, smiling. “Alright then, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

This feels like a trap. Maybe it is, but you’ll be damned if you’re not going to jump at the opportunity.

In any case, you lay your body fully on top of his and trail kisses across his collar, starting to leave bruises in your wake.

You take his wrists in your hands once again, this time moving them up to pin them beside his head. Now you know he’s just letting you play your game, if not just to see where it goes. Frankly, you’re surprised he’s let you go this far.

It’s a bit silly though, you have to imagine. You, holding down this massive man by his wrists, as if anything you did could do anything to stop him from moving if he wanted to.

You continue to nip at his neck, making sure to pay extra attention where you know he’s sensitive.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something that sounds close to a warning.

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t gotta be so tough all the time.”

The look he gives you lets you know he’s biting his tongue, giving you your chance to play man-in-charge. And you are just playing, really. You don’t know it yet, but he sure as hell does.

“I know it’s hard, but you can let me take care of you for a change, can’t you?”

You start to grind down on him, earning you a low exhale from him. But you want more.

You relax your grip on his wrists and rub soothing circles on his palm, nuzzling your face further into his neck.

It’s enough to make him relax under you, which for him, is a clear sign in him placing his trust in you here. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.

“That’s my boy.” You whisper, kissing his forehead. It’s half condescending, half true to what you know he likes. He loves it when you call him yours, it makes him shut right up and go all heart eyes on you.

You’re basically making out with the sweet spot under his jaw as you move your hips back and forth over his growing hard-on.

With the way his wrists keep flinching under your hand, you can tell that he’s having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Usually when you ride him, he’s all over you, hands caressing your body everywhere he can reach.

If you weren’t testing the limits so much here, you’d reward him for listening to you so well, but you’re not about to bide your time under these circumstances.

You lift up your hips and pull down on his boxers, freeing his length. You don’t do anything yet though, simply ghosting your lips across his cheek.

“Baby…” he groans, but this one’s less of a warning, closer to a plea. Okay, we’re making progress.

You sink down onto him slowly, adjusting to his size proving to be no easy feat from this angle.

He closes his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek as you lower yourself, inch by inch.

Admittedly, this is a lot easier when he’s kissing you and touching you and exactly where you need him, whispering in your ear how good you’re doing for him, what a good girl you’re—no. No. You can do this on your own. You can do this for both of you.

He finally bottoms out and you’re able to begin moving your hips up and down, up and down.

And you try. You really do try, but he’s just so big and even when he’s helping you (which he pointedly is not), riding him is a difficult task.

On a good day it’ll take you out of commission for walking for at least the next few days. Now, you’re not even five minutes in and you can already tell it’s going to be at least a week. Maybe you should’ve waited to do this on a night when he hadn’t already made you come three times with his tongue.

You put your weight into holding his wrists down, hoping it’ll help you gain some traction. It doesn’t do much.

It’s a big job, he said. At the time, you may have been a little idealistic about how this was going to play out. Though, were you even the one who decided to ride him, or did he put you on top? You struggle to pull back the memory now, your body giving the choice of movement or thinking—you can’t have both. Movement it is.

It’s not long before your thighs start to burn and you have to battle just to hold yourself upright. The movement you are able to make just isn’t enough. You can’t go fast enough or take as much of him as you want on each bounce. Though at this point, ‘bounce’ is generous.

Jason’s smile just grows the whole time he watches you struggle, eyes roaming shamelessly up and down your body.

“Aw, poor thing. Can’t do it?” He asks, hand coming up to stroke small circles on your hip with his thumb. This time you don’t stop him—you can’t.

“Jay…” You whine, not ready to endure his teasing. Too bad.

“What, hm? What d’you want? You’re the one in charge sweetheart, do it yourself.”

How the hell did he manage to flip this around? Actually, if you were thinking more clearly right now you’d realize that you never really managed to reverse your original roles at all.

You move your hands to lay flat on top of his chest, a position that isn’t doing you any more favors than the last one.

You throw your head back in frustration, movements halting.

“Not so easy, huh?”

You pout down at him, brows furrowed. He smiles wider and sits up all the way, giving you a sweet kiss. Okay good, he’s going to be nice about this. You hope.

His hand comes up to comb the hair out of your face, forehead resting against yours.

“Tell me what I want to hear.” He whispers.

Oh. You don’t want to. Not after all that game you talked.

You shut your eyes. “Mm…”

“Can’t hear you, baby. Speak up.” He pinches your waist for emphasis.

What are the odds he ever lets you live this down if you give in? What are the odds of him letting you finish if you don’t say it?

Cost. Benefit. Cost. Benefit. Cost…benefit…

Fine.

“You’re in charge.” You mumble defeated, but still making sure to be clear enough that he won’t make you repeat it. Though that’s never a guarantee.

“Oh yeah?”

You open your eyes and meet his teasing gaze through a lowered brow, willing him to go easy on you.

“That’s alright, baby. I can take things over for you.” He says sweetly, kissing the side of your head before pulling out of you.

You gawk at the sudden emptiness in you and move to complain before he flips you on your back, head hitting the pillow with a light thud.

He takes hold of your wrists this time, raising them above your head, pinning them together with one hand.

He uses his other hand to caress up your side, up to the underside of your breast, brushing his thumb back and forth.

“Thought you were my good girl, hm? What happened?”

You stare up at him, not quite able to formulate an answer and not quite sure if he wants an answer.

“Don’t wanna be my good girl anymore? That it?” He asks, brow furrowed with a light pout on his lips.

You shake your head fervently, you do, you really do. You are.

“No, I just—”

“Just wanted to play? Yeah, I remember.”

He lets his hand drift back down your side, dipping past your waist. His knuckles ghost over your clit, not kind enough to grant you any pressure. The teasing brush makes you whine and squirm.

“How ‘bout now, baby? You still wanna play games?”

His hand brushes past again, slower.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m done. I’m done. Please, Jay…”

“Please, Jay…” he mimics, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

He positions himself at your core, sliding back into you tantalizingly slowly. With you as wet as you are, you know he’s not doing it to help you adjust so much as to torture you.

Once he sinks all the way in, he lets out a small groan and squeezes his eyes shut. He begins to move, the return of the sensation feeling like a saving grace.

He starts to pick up his pace, entering a rhythm that you couldn’t have dreamed of achieving when you were on top.

As he continues on, it doesn’t take him long to find that spot, meeting it with accuracy on every stroke.

You let out a broken moan, his hand once again grazing your clit back and forth in reward.

“That it? Right there, baby?” He knows damn well he’s hitting the right spot, he could draw a fucking map at this point.

“Y—yes, Jay. Please, please. Just let me—”

“I know I don’t hear you trying to give orders.” He says, hand snapping away from where you need it.

“No, I—I’m just…please.” You sound honest to God desperate and it’s enough to push his already light resolve to its end.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

His fingers finally touch your clit with intention and that alone is enough to leave you gasping.

He draws circles over your clit just exceptionally, making your breathing speed up and your legs shake in anticipation.

You look up at him, eyes pleading. “Please?” You whisper, breathless.

He squeezes your wrists, gaze still focused on where your bodies meet. “Yeah, baby. Yeah. Go ahead.”

And it sure is a good thing he said it when he did because you were over the edge like that.

His eyes snap back up to your face the second you start to tighten around him. “There she is.” He mumbles, eyes scanning your features carefully. “That’s my girl.”

His head drops into your neck, releasing your wrists above your head in favor of holding your hand. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, grip tightening as he comes right after you.

Your free hand comes down to caress the back of his head as he finishes, short hair fluttering between your fingers.

You lay beneath him, chests heaving, bodies both lax.

“Was—was I…” you trail off, still thoroughly out of breath.

He kisses your neck once and nuzzles his face in further. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were such a good girl for me. So good.”

You close your eyes and smile, because fuck does that feel good.

[starryjake]

revenge | s.j

in which you get your revenge on jake after the time he overstimulated you with a vibrator.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: sub jake, use of sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, drooling and crying kinda, cumming multiple times, kinda bondage (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was so pretty. absolutely exhausted jake who just wanted to cuddle with you and go to sleep was too, too pretty.

you just had to have your fun with him.

besides, he should’ve seen it coming. he’d done the same thing to you last week.

you were tired from a long day of work and classes and jake thought it was the perfect time to absolutely torture you with a vibrator. he made you cum so many times, you’d lost count, but you were so oversensitive that it hurt.

that night, you couldn’t wait to get your revenge.

and then it was time: when jake was so sleepy and dazed, bound to go along with what you say until he would realize what was happening.

“baby,” he said softly as you started nipping his jawline, clearly trying to get his attention. “i’m too sleepy.”

“i know,” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his neck, “but i wanna have some fun.”

jake looked down at you, his sweet, sweet girl. he never wanted to deny you of the things you wanted, even when he was as tired as he was.

“i just don’t know if i can do anything, sweetheart,” he said. “you can hump me or ride my thigh if you want. just don’t be mad if i fall asleep.”

“no, jake,” you whined, trailing your hand down his bare torso. “you need to have some fun with me too.”

you grabbed his cheek and attached your lips to his before he could even realize you were doing it. he instantly melted into the kiss, sighing against your lips and bringing his hands up to your hair.

“so needy,” he mumbled against your mouth.

he couldn’t see it since his eyes were closed, but you rolled your eyes. you were needy, sure. needy to see him get what was coming for him.

testing, you dragged your hand down to cup his bulge, feeling if he was hard yet. you weren’t surprised to find that he was. it never took him very long, even when he insisted he was too tired.

you stroked your hand up and down his clothed erection for a minute, getting him worked up enough that he would actually want to cum and take back what he said about being too tired.

you knew he was at that point when you pulled away from him entirely and he pouted at you, his facial expression asking why you stopped.

saying nothing, you reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the fully charged bullet vibrator he’d used on you last week. jake’s face remained expressionless, not catching on to what was going on. he really was tired.

you set it on the bed and went back over to jake, pulling his pants down to his knees. he’d forgone underwear since he was just going to sleep, his cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. he was fully hard, his tip a light pink color and drooling a bit of pre cum.

for a moment there, distracted by the sight of his dick, you forgot all about your plan for the vibrator. you wrapped your hand around his shaft and started slowly jerking him off, watching his face contort with pleasure.

it was only when you felt him twitch in your grip that you remembered your mission.

you let go of him, much to his displeasure, picking the vibrator back up. he watched you turn it on, the humming sound of it suddenly filling your shared bedroom.

“what are you doing?” he whined, lolling his head to the side. “just make me cum and let me go to sleep.”

you scoffed. he was such a brat, it only made you want to use it on him even more.

“i will make you cum,” you assured. “just close your eyes.”

“i’ll fall asleep if i close ‘em,” he said.

“you won’t,” you assured him.

he sighed and closed his eyes, immediately becoming more relaxed. his shoulders slumped and his facial features softened.

you didn’t waste any time and brought the little pink vibrator right to the tip of his leaking cock.

jake jolted in shock, his eyes flying open.

“what the hell?” he almost yelled. “what are you doing?”

“having fun,” you answered.

he reached out to grab your wrist but you stopped him with a menacing glare.

“try to stop me and i’ll tie your hands up,” you warned.

“y/n, please,” jake huffed, staring down at you running the vibrator around his tip. “you’re not using your vibrator on me.”

“you did it to me first,” you reminded him. “you used it on me until i was shaking and begging you to stop. and i’ve been thinking about getting back at you everyday since.”

“i’m sorry!” jake cried out, tossing his head back in either frustration or pleasure, or both.

he couldn’t deny that it felt good. for such a small vibrator, the pressure was there. he could feel it intensely pulsating against his tip, pushing out more and more beads of clear precum. you’d only just begun and he was already so messy.

“i’m sure,” you mumbled, gathering some of the precum with your other hand.

jake bit his lip, feeling a warmth spread in his stomach and he knew he was already close. it hadn’t been very long but his sensations were heightened from his exhaustion.

“i’m close,” he told you.

you didn’t stop or slow down. in fact, you ran the vibrator down from his tip to his shaft and back up, his balls tightening from the unfamiliar sensation. his back arched in a way that was so pretty, your eyes widening from how affected he was by the vibrator.

“go ahead,” you said. “go ahead and cum for me.”

with that, his jaw fell slack and he groaned loudly as ropes of cum spurted out from his tip, which was a slightly darker pink than it’d been when you started.

“mmm, fuck,” he moaned, head tossed back and hips thrusting up slightly to ride out his high. “oh, yeah.”

a sheen of sweat covered his chest and his rosy cheeks. his chest rose and fell rapidly with little gasps of air. he came for longer than you imagined he would considering you’d only just started, but you assumed it was because he’d never had a vibrator used on him before.

you turned the vibrator off for a moment, taking in the state of jake before you. a puddle of his cloudy cum coated his stomach and his eyes were shut. his chest rose and fell less rapidly, telling you that he was finally calming down.

“jake?” you said after a minute.

he hummed, his eyes still closed. it was clear he was right on the brink of falling asleep.

to keep him from doing so, you turned the vibrator back on and held it against the underside of his cock below his tip, his most sensitive spot.

he jolted, eyes flying open like they had before.

“oh, fuck,” he moaned, grabbing your wrist to try and stop you again. “please. i can’t.”

“you can,” you assured him, holding the vibrator and his cock all in your one hand.

“please,” he cried. “it’s too much. i’m too sensitive, y/n.”

“you’re okay,” you responded, thinking about how sensitive you were when he did the same thing to you.

“oh my god,” he nearly sobbed. “‘m cumming.”

it was so, so quick. only a minute in and he was already shooting out more ropes of cum, landing on top of the puddle that was already there, creating an even bigger mess of himself.

he whimpered, entirely shoving your hand off of him to give himself a break.

“what’d i say?” you asked, demeanor darkening.

“you’re not tying me up,” he declared, like he was in charge.

“wanna bet?”

jake’s big brown eyes widened, watching as you reached into the drawer again to pull out the silk rope. you certainly weren’t afraid to use it on him, especially if he was going to be pushing your hands off.

“don’t,” he begged. “please.”

“then stop trying to push me off,” you said sternly.

“but it’s too much,” he whined.

he was already keeping a close eye on your hand gripping the vibrator, weary for when were going to bring it back to his cock again. it almost made you want to laugh.

“you can do it,” you said. “you can be good for me, yeah?”

he bit his lower lip, hanging his head.

you brought the vibrator back to his cock, turning it onto the next highest setting from before. his poor cock jake gasped, instinctively grabbing onto your wrist again despite what you’d just told him.

“jake,” you sighed, growing frustrated.

“i’m sorry!” he said, immediately retreating his hand.

you set the vibrator aside and grabbed the silk rope. you grabbed his hands and pushed them together, tying the rope around them tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.

jake had a little pout on his face like a child who’d just gotten scolded after getting in trouble. it filled your body with warmth, how cute he was.

“i just wanna make you feel good,” you reasoned, pressing the vibrator onto his slit.

he hissed, pushing his hips up. his abs clenched, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face from the intensity of the vibrator and from already cumming twice.

“i know, baby,” he said while exhaling shakily. “it’s just…a lot.”

“but i know you can do it,” you cooed, dragging the vibrator down a vein on his dick.

he clenched his jaw, the mixture of pain and pleasure so overwhelming that it was clouding his mind, slowly turning him dumb.

“i can’t,” he mumbled pathetically. “it feels so fucking good though.”

“i know, honey,” you cooed softly.

you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him prettier. his eyes were glazed over, his cheeks and ears a bright pink, and completely covered in his own cum. you wanted to ruin him, make a mess out of your tired boyfriend.

he tried to squeeze the bedsheets, but he was so weak. he couldn’t express his pleasure other than desperate moans.

he didn’t even warn you the next time he came. it just started coming out out his red, used tip, drooling out slowly in comparison to the sharp ropes that were spurting out before.

you were were pretty sure you saw a tear a slip down his face and were certain that he was drooling. he moaned shamelessly, so out of it that he felt like he was dreaming. he’d never felt so fucked out in his life.

you kept the vibrator pressed against him while he came and didn’t remove it this time to let him calm down.

“oh my god,” he slurred. “baby, pl—oh fuck. i’m cumming again.”

less than 30 seconds than cumming before and he was already cumming again, which you didn’t even know was possible.

his load was smaller, but his reaction was bigger. he threw his head back, exposing his pretty neck. his entire body tensed and the prettiest, most desperate moans and whimpers came tumbling out past his lips, swollen from biting and drooling.

“fuck, i can’t stop,” he moaned.

you watched him, feeling the wetness pool in your panties from how beautiful of a sight it was.

the veins in his body throbbed, his muscles clenched, and he just a beautiful mess. his cock was drenched in his own cum, the vibrator slipping against him.

you caressed his leg, removing the vibrator from his spent cock. he let out a groan of relief from you finally pulling it away, of giving him a moment to breathe.

his eyes were closed, his entire body limp. you lifted his hands in order to untie the silk rope, setting his hands free.

you sat up on your knees, caressing his face until he opened his eyes again, looking up at you.

“you okay?” you asked, your thumb brushing his cheek.

“mhm,” he mumbled, even more tired than he was before. “that was fucking…insane.”

“was it too much?” you wondered, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to start cleaning him up.

“yeah,” he said, “in the best way possible.”

you chuckled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.

“go to sleep, okay?” you said.

“but can we cuddle?” he asked sweetly.

“yes, we can cuddle,” you responded.

“and can i be little spoon?” he asked.

“yes, jake.”

-

screaming. shoutout to the anon who requested this, i loved the idea so much! sub jake just….don’t get me started actually!

[playfully-sadistic]

Time to break down some common sub phrases and what they're really wanting to tell you, baby doms! And don't worry, they'll absolutely deny this, but trust me... Their blushes are quite the confirmation.

"You have nice hands" meaning "I want your fingers in my mouth, in my hole(s), around my throat, bruising my waist, thighs, ass and chest, holding my hands together on my back or above my hand, and also used to slap me across my face :)"

"I like your voice" meaning "Please call me disgusting, degrading things while I'm on my knees for you, and also praise me and call me cute, endearing things, or threaten me or tell me what you wanna do to me, just fuck, please, don't stop talking."

"Make me" meaning "Please show me that you can handle me when I'm challenging your dominance, show me that you can shut me up when I'm being provocative and difficult and bratty, please, show me that you know how to make me feel owned and submissive, even when I act like I'm in charge. Show me you're in charge, remind me, remind me your worth my submission."

"You don't own me" meaning "Fuck, I'm begging you to show me that you own me, I need to be reminded, treat me like your property, yours yours yours yours."

*incoherent whiny noises* meaning that you're doing everything perfectly, keep it up, hehe, and don't ever think of stopping before they're a fully melted, whimpering mess.

"It hurts" meaning "This is turning me on so much, please, don't stop, please, keep hurting me."

"It's too much, please stop, this is so embarrassing" meaning "I love when you embarrass me, it makes me so horny, I love being made to feel needy and perverted by you, don't stop."

"Stop praising me like I'm a pet" meaning "Please praise me like I'm a pet - put me in ears and a tail, and a collar and a leash while you're at it."

"Gross, are you really into that?" meaning "That's so hot, fuck, I'm into it too."

[thewickedjazzy]

Special Level: "DPーONE HOLE" for Kinktober.

♡PHASE 2: gojo & dazai x afab! reader. *nsfw audio⬇⬇*

Synopsis: sandwiched between dazai and gojo, you didn't see it coming when they proposed to share a single hole.

Warnings: ņsfw, mdni, smųt with plot, double penetration, size kink, mild degrading kink, voyeurism, reader has a female anatomy, orgasm control, oral sex, rough sex, praise kink, mild psychological manipulation, masturbation, ovulation, pet names used: angel, sweetheart...etc.

Word count & a/n: 3.9k, okay this took me 3 days to write no joke- a special thank you and a kiss to my sweet bbg rem @remlionheart for helping me out to finalise this part, i don't know what i would've done without her xx.

READ: PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x afab! reader.

“no way... it’s not gonna fit!” you exclaim, wide-eyed as you take in the two men standing before you, both packing unbelievably huge cocks.

“oh, we’ll make it fit,” the brunet purrs with a sick smirk curling into his lips. are they serious? you nearly passed out last time when it was with geto and chuuya—and that wasn’t even in the same hole.

you shift slightly, feeling a twinge of nervous excitement as they exchange a deranged knowing look. no way they're actually about to try this—double penetration in one hole?

you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this situation. uh, well, you need to rewind a few hours…

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅��� ─────

“you’re going to miss the after-party if you don’t hurry up!” suguru’s voice comes from the other side of the opulent hotel suite door. he stands there sighing and rolling his eyes as he adjusts his tailored dark grey suit that complements your dress perfectly.

“i know!” you bite back, desperately fumbling with the zipper on your dress. the more you pulled, the more it seemed determined to stick in place. well, you didn't expect less from a sleek, form-fitting black dress that falls to just above the knee with a deep v-neck and a backless design.

you huff in frustration feeling your face heat up. why was it always so much more complicated when it was your turn to shine? you could practically hear the chatter of geto and chuuya outside, and yet here you were, trapped in a battle with a stubborn zipper for the second time

the door cracks open, and geto pokes his head in with a pitiful smirk already forming. behind him stands chuuya, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. given that he’s a good head shorter, he practically has to lean up to get a look around geto's shoulder.

“need help?” geto asks, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. classic.

“oh, totally fine! just a… minor uh..malfunction,” you lie, completely ignoring the way your hands are still locked in a losing tug-of-war with the dress. they don't need to know how close you were to waving a white flag.

geto tilts his head, obviously not convinced, but before he can offer again, a crewmember flags them down from the hallway, urgently needing both of them. geto sighs looking a bit hesitant as they’re called away, and you can hear chuuya muttering something about “never a damn break.”

“okay, but shout if you need someone to rescue you,” geto calls chucking over his shoulder as they head off.

you nod, giving an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up while praying the dress will cooperate. once they’re gone, you turn back to the mirror, wrestling with the zipper once more and muttering in frustration. just as you’re about to give up, a pair of warm hands appear on your back, gently tugging the zipper up with ease.

“thank god you’re here,” you sigh in relief, not even bothering to check who’s behind you, assuming it’s someone from wardrobe.

“i was just about to say the same thing,” comes a voice, too close, and way too amused.

you freeze...oh no, that voice!

“g-gojo!” you falter, finally twisting around to see his saccharine shitty grin.

“i... um... thanks? but i didn’t know i was getting a personal stylist??” you reply, pink hue colouring your already flustered face.

“well, I do charge by the hour.” he says, raising an eyebrow with that all-too-smug grin.

is he serious right now?

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “yeah? i’ll make sure you work for every cent.”

“here you go! all zipped up and ready to go.” he pats your shoulders gently.

as you check yourself in the mirror, you hear gojo muttering under his breath, “now, where the hell is my bag of bandages?”

needless to say that the suicidal freak is trying to negotiate his way onto the rooftop by slipping a hotel staff member a crisp 100 yen bill. “just let me through, and I won’t mention how you’re the staff's designated crack dealer, alright?”

with that, he strides confidently down the corridor, only to collide with chuuya, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed chatting with geto with a sceptical expression on his face.

“who the hell let you back here?” the redhead barks, glaring at dazai not bothering to hide his frustration.

“uh who the hell let you wear that outfit?” the brunet retorts, taking in chuuya's ensemble, a sharp tuxedo that is a true work of art, complete with a black satin lapel that gleams in the light. beneath it lies a deep crimson shirt, and of course, no look is complete without his stylish new fedora, adding the perfect finishing touches. “did you lose a bet? now, shut up, i’m looking for someone.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

once you’re finally ready, you and the four hotties head up to the hotel rooftop for the after-party. the view of the city skyline is breathtaking, with all the lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. needless to say that the vibe up there is so lively, you can practically feel the energy bustling around you. everyone's laughing, chatting, and the clinking of glasses fills your ears with the upbeat music that makes you want to dance.

you spot some of the cast, all dressed to the nines, mingling and celebrating the movie premiere like it was the best night of their lives. it’s hard not to feel a little caught up in the excitement yourself.

as the night goes on, you’re hanging back in a quieter corner of the rooftop, drink in hand, watching gojo and dazai do their usual routine, with the white-haired freak launching into his jujutsu tales about being the “strongest sorcerer in history” to anyone who’ll lend an ear. he’s practically flexing at this point, not that anyone asked about his sorcery skills—but that doesn’t seem to stop him.

as for dazai, well, he's in his own world of smooth-talking, tossing just the right lines to make every woman he chats with laugh like he's the funniest guy in the room, nodding along to gojo’s wild stories as if he’s actually been there, backing him up with just enough charm and sly touches on the arm or shoulder to keep his female audience wrapped around his finger.

it goes without saying, that geto and chuuya are just standing there, looking like they’re about five seconds from yanking them by the collars and dragging them away.

“keep them in check,” you hear the redhead mutter to suguru, who rolls his eyes in agreement.

“hey, do you wanna get a drink?” the brunet suddenly suggests, sidling up to you with a playful glint in his eyes, and as usual, gojo is right beside him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.

“oh, i-i don’t think i should,” you hadn’t planned to drink tonight, especially since you were ovulating and wanted to stay clear-headed. but the glimmer of pleading in their eyes makes it hard to resist.

“oh, c’monnn! just one drink?” gojo pleads, leaning closer and brushing his fingertips on yours. “it’ll be fun.”

with a sigh, you relent, knowing they won’t let it go easily. “finnne, just one.”

oh, agreeing to this was a crucial mistake—not because you're getting drunk, but because you're literally a giggling mess, flirting right back with them more than usual. with the increase in estrogen, making your skin feel more sensitive, and you can’t help but notice how the fabric hugs your curves perfectly, leaving you feeling uncharacteristically sexy. every playful touch and cheeky comment from the two men sends your heart racing, as if it’s the first time anyone has ever admired you like this.

you finish your glass, you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, the effects of the alcohol hitting you faster than you expected. the two men's playful banter becomes way more extreme, you find their hands roaming your body in tandem, too shamelessly.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the brunet brat chuckles lowly snapping you out of your thoughts as he leans in closer until his long slender fingers slide between your slick folds, parting them as he plunges two digits deep into your sweet soaked hole. “oh, see? pretty sure it will fit,” he coos, spreading his fingers inside you just enough to draw another desperate moan from your throat. “you’re already making it easier with how wet you are.”

your back arches againts your will as your head lolls back, mouth falling open in delight. and you can clearly hear your pulse racing in your chest as he keeps his fingers inside you, curling and spreading them while keeping his gaze fixed on your pouty face.

“just relax, yeah?” dazai whispers, pressing his palm against your chest to guide you back onto the soft, white blanket, relaxing your tensed body.

to the side, gojo leans back into the leather couch across the room, his own gaze heavy-lidded with arousal as he strokes his cock in long, slow, lewd motions, eyes completely locked on the way you writhe beneath dazai's touch. the six eyes man whore is absolutely shameless, letting every inch of his thick length slide through his hand as he watches you with a smug grin spreading across his face. “fuck yeah, look at you,” his voice drops an octave.“already fucked out, and we haven’t even fucked you yet.”

your gaze flickers to gojo, watching as he tightens his grip around his deliciously lengthy cock, hand moving in slow, teasing strokes, you bite back a whimper and tugging at the brunet's sleeve as some sort of a plea. as soon as the sorcerer catches your stare, he chuckles darkly picking up the pace and rubbing his seed-soaked tip with his thumb, little blue-tinted veins running up and down his cock, a shade dangerously close to his own hungry eyes.

you should be ashamed of how much your mouth starts to water, saliva pooling and connecting the roof of your mouth to the pad of your tongue.

“getting all wet just from my fingers?… how are you gonna handle both of us?” his fingers continue their sedulous rhythm as he stretches you open, a rushing river of slickness pooling with every teasing thrust of his digits. he pulls his fingers out only to plunge them back in again, spreading them inside you, relishing in the way your walls flutter and clench around him. “It’s like you were made for us”

“dazai,” gojo calls, from across the room, “go faster, yeah? look at how desperate they are.”

without hesitation, the brunet speeds up, curling his fingers deep inside your gummy walls, soft thumb rubbing your abused clit firmly, sending shockwaves of dopamine across your brain. you can feel it build rapidly, hips rocking salaciously against his fingers, feeling the sex loaded air pressing down on your chest, as he works you closer and closer to your release. but just as you’re about to tip over, the brat pulls his fingers out, leaving you trembling and on the brink. you mentally curse him, more tears filling your eyes as you look up at him, lips wet and pouty, parted in a desperate, wordless plea.

“oh? you want us to make you come?” gojo chuckles, voice almost mocking you pathetically as he stands up and strides over to loom over you with that infuriatingly smug grin. “then kiss me,” he leans down, face so close that you can feel his minty breath ghosting over your lips.

you know better than to listen to him, but desperation consumes you as you silently mourn the loss of your neglected release, you shift, reaching up to capture his lips, loud heartbeats drowning out your hearing. but just as you’re about to press your mouth to his, you hit an invisible barrier, his infinity keeping you just millimetres from him. he chuckles darkly, watching the frustration build up in your eyes as you let out an exasperated whimper, practically aching to close the gap.

“that’s not fair!” you cry in desperation as you press harder against the invisible barrier, lips hovering so close but unable to reach him.

gojo’s sick smirk only widens. “life’s not fair, sweetheart,” he drawls sultrily, “but maybe if you let us both fuck you…” he lets the sentence hang out in the sex charged air between you both, his glances over at dazai with an amused grin.

“oh, c’mon, angel. that look in your eyes is begging for more. you know you want us to fill you until you can’t take it anymore.” the burnet's hand tilt your chin slightly so that you're facing him, his other hand still on your thighs, fingers idly trace patterns on your sensitive skin, keeping you needy like a bitch in heat.

“please,” you whisper as you try to push again though his invisible barrier but to avail, fuck it! you need to taste him to feel his sweet lips on yours, “please, i need it—i need both of you.” your voice cracking, dignity slipping as you look from one to the other, unable to resist any more teasing.

the white-haired freak hums in satisfaction, and as soon as his infinity is turned off, you find both your lips pressed together, tasting your shared breath, and oh god the taste of him makes you melt drawing out sounds from you that you didn’t know you could make. his tongue sweeps against yours, coaxing you into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that leaves you dizzy.

just as you’re sinking into him, lost in his sweet taste, dazai's firm hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a look that leaves no room for patience. his mouth is on you before you can take a breath, teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging, then his tongue slides in, leaving a slick trail of spit that mixes with gojo’s. a needy groan rumbling from his throat as you part your legs even wider, inviting him to slip between your inner thighs.

dazai’s hands settle firmly on your waist, fingers digging in as he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you until you’re straddling him, pillowy thighs spread around his hips. he shifts, positioning himself so his achy tip is bumping your clit, until he reaches right between your inner folds, running the meat of his shaft along the length of your soaked pussy. you lean in to tast the faint salt of his skin, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. a shuddered breath escapes him as the soft warmth of your heated cunt welcomes his length, angry tip nudges into you, slipping past that tender threshold.

“oh fuck baby mngh..suck me in like that, fuck yeahh,” he growls as you sink down to drive his delicious cock into the deepest parts of your sex, inch by fucking inch, your cunt already fully lubed up with all your sweet juices. the world around you fades, leaving only the exquisite sensation of being filled by dazai’s meaty cock.

and just when you think that you're already too full of dazai, you feel gojo's strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, slowly pushing deep within you, his girth sliding alongside the brunet's and into your ruined hole, filling you to the brim in a luscious stretch.

“oh—fuhhh-ck ’toruuu, it’s too much—too much!” you gasp, voice breaking as your body struggles for a few seconds to take them both, a sweet ache blossoming within you as they thrust deeper, cunt instinctively clenching around both their cocks, as if trying to pull them in, to take them impossibly deeper.

“fuckk! you feel incredible. mmngh yeahh just a little more, sweetheart… you can take it.” the sorcerer groans against the shell of your ears while palming both of your breasts from behind, you never imagined taking one of them, leave alone both of them together, every inch of your now-stretched cunt is filled to the brink, and yet craving more, even as it borders on unbearable.

“shh, you’re doing so well,” dazai’s voice came through softly, lips brushing delicate kisses along your collarbone. “just breathe, angel… i’ve got you.” his words are meant to soothe you, but you’re too spent in that moment—utterly lost, trembling as their cocks drives you to the edge of your own universe.

obscene noises mingling together as gojo fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head back and exposing your throat for his hungry lips. his other hand presses firmly on your back, pushing you down until your belly meets the solid warmth of dazai beneath you. the brunet's arms circle your waist, holding you steady, each of them guiding your trembling body into a perfect arch, pushing you to take them fully. so that they can bottom out inside you.

“fuck shit- shit shit feels so good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you feel around him.

“see? you're taking us so well haahh you should cut out the nonsense next time mghh” saturo lets out a throaty hybrid noise, a lewd mix between an amused laugh and a deep moan.

incoherent curses slipping past your wet lips as saturo prods and pinches the sensitive skin around your nipples. it's too much, the pleasure is too much, the pain is too much, the lewd squelch of your sexes as they slip in and out of you, feeling your orgasm build up again.

“mmuph yes please fuuuck don't stop ’m clos-e” your pleading whimpers betray you, just like your body does filled with hormonal lust pooling right into your core.

“fuck oh fu-ck keep squeezing me like that- ah” “hngh yes angel cum all over our cocks”

their voices blur together, indistinguishable as they both sound the same, each word flows into the next. and all you hear is the wet plap plap plap of their balls slapping against your sensitive skin.

you bounce back on their hardened lengths, finally riding out your sweet release. both men moan in unison at the sight of your lewd expression—eyes rolling back, tongue slipping from your mouth as drool and tears streak down your mascara-smudged cheeks, oh, such a beautiful sight to see, body flushed and trembling with sweat trickling down the valley of your breasts.

they’ve ruined you quite literally and turned you into thisーa wrecked mess, quivering each time their thick lengths press against every sensitive spot. with broken cries spilling from your bruised lips, they angle their hips just right, hitting your g-spot over and over.

as their hands glide down to press against the bulge in your lower belly, a wave of intense pleasure unfurls through you, stealing your breath and lighting up every nerve in a blinding crescendo. your vision blurs, flashes of light dancing behind your eyelids as if a galaxy has burst open within you, stars scattering and colliding in the depth of your being.

your juices gush against gojo's firm thighs and dazai's abdomen, soaking them in a glistening sheen under the low hotel lighting. both of them follow suit feeling how your walls flutter and tighten around them so perfectly, two loads of thick, hot cum paint your insides pearly white—the milky liquid reaching deep to your womb, though some of it inevitably leaks out, trickling down from your velvet walls.

once they pull out, they gently place you on the feathery pillows, but not before glancing one last time at your absolutely wrecked and dripping pussy, dripping with their mixed essence. they settle beside you, both of them relaxing into the plush bedding, they take deep breathes trying to calm down from their own high as they cast affectionate glances your way, ensuring you're comfortable and cared for after such an intense release.

“hey, are you okay, baby?” gojo is the first to ask, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, “did we go too far?”

then dazai leans closer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “you did well, angel, but we want to make sure you’re feeling good. do you need some water or anything?”

“just... hold me for a bit.”

you never would have guessed they could be this gentle, let alone attentive. you’d always imagined this would be wild and chaotic, maybe even a bit reckless, but here they were, treating you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“of course, angel,” dazai replies softly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to his heaving chest. “we’ve got you.”

gojo follows, chuckling softly as his fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin. “if you need anything else, baby, just say it. we’re here to take care of you.”

you close your eyes, nestled between them, you never thought that you'd feel this safe and cared for as they whisper sweet nothings, ensuring you know just how much you’re adored.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelove @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock @vernasce-blogs @v1rtualdr3am5 @akyria-shyn @dazaistn @meowpmzai @ilikematcha

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Loving your JJK men so I'm here to request fics if possible. I'm feeling Nanami, Geto and Megumi mainly, Sukuna for the shits and anyone else you're in the mood for. It doesn't have to be super long either, just sweet supportive men.

You're either on your way to a thing with friends/family or already at an event when your period either starts or takes a turn for the worse (painful enough cramps to cause nausea) and you're asking them to turn back/leave even though you know you agreed to attend.

Period Problems!

Tags: fluff, cursing, period comfort, established relationships, wee bit of crack

An: Thank you! I appreciate the req <3

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Megumi, Sukuna

SATORU

You kinda let Satoru do all the talking during reunions at Jujutsu Tech. It’s not that you don’t like your former classmates; you do. You just find so much socialization to be kinda exhausting.

Satoru was the opposite however. He’s a natural born extrovert that can talk to other people so casually for hours on end. Socialization doesn’t tire him out at all, so he’s quick to take over conversations for you when he can sense that your social battery is low.

He’s subtle with it: placing his arm slightly in front of you as he steps up, casually inserting himself into the conversation. It feels fluid and not forced at all.

That’s how you two were right now. You were tucked behind his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder. You had been cramping all day long, so you already wasn’t in too good of a mood. The socialization was really the cherry on top.

A torturous wave of cramps hit, nearly making your knees buckle from under you. Your hand tightened around Satoru’s bicep, and you tried to breathe your way through it, not wanting to take him away from all his friends.

Satoru turned his head towards you, and he could immediately notice how pale you looked. “Hey, it was good seeing you though. Take care of the wife and kids.” Your husband smiled at whoever he was talking to before guiding you away from everyone else.

“What’s the matter, sweets? You alright?” He asks softly as he’s extended his infinity out to you so no one can touch you or even get close to you.

“Cramping… hurts..” was all you could manage to get out.

“Let’s get you home, sweets. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good?” His large palm rubs at the small of your back as he opens the door for you, allowing you to step out.

“Didn’t wanna ruin your event.” You murmur quietly as tears brim in your eyes. You didn’t want to be seen as an inconvenience to him.

“Hey, heyy… c’mere, sweet girl.” Satoru wraps you up in a tight embrace, petting your hair as you cried into his dress shirt. “My poor baby. What kind of husband would I be if I made my wife who’s in a lot of pain get up and go to something as uncomfortable as a reunion? I don’t even really care about those people anyway. You’re my priority.” He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” You murmur quietly, and he steps back away from you.

“Right, let’s get you home. I’ll make some chocolate covered strawberries, and we can watch that reality tv show you really like.” Satoru suggests as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car.

SUGURU

Who said cults couldn’t have bake sales? It brings a sense of community and camaraderie amongst the members. Geto thought you were a literal genius when you came up with the idea.

You had been in charge of planning and organizing the entire bake sale, and today was finally the day. It’s early in the morning, and Geto’s helping the girls in the kitchen bake blueberry muffins so they have enough time to cool before the sale.

You stirred out of your own slumber upon hearing the girls giggling. “Hey now, you two, don’t you wake your mama up. She’s sleeping.” Your husband warns the twins, and they both try to shush each other. The giggling pursues anyway, but you don’t mind. You wouldn’t rather be woken up any other way.

As you slowly eased yourself out of bed, your stomach immediately cramped up, sending shockwaves of pain down your thighs and back at the same time.

Was it really that time of the month already?

Your stained bedsheets said yes. You must’ve started in your sleep. Great.

Upon hearing you rustling around in the bedroom, Suguru walks in, not expecting to find you haphazardly pulling the sheets off yours and his bed.

“I just washed the sheets a couple weeks ago.” Geto said with a curious smile on his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, wondering what you were doing.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Your voice is quiet and full of shame that immediately has Suguru is full-on “fix mode”.

“Hey- what happened, baby?” He asks as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, so the girls can’t come and be nosey.

You sniffle softly and turn to show Geto your poor pajama pants that were now soaked in blood, and he immediately understands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling. How are you feeling?” He tenderly asks as he comes and takes the sheets out of your hand. He begins to pull them off for you.

“‘m hurting really bad..” You answer him in a quiet murmur.

“Go take a bath, darling. I got everything else. Don’t worry about it.” He presses a small kiss to the top of your head. “Throw your panties and pants in the hamper. I’ll try to get the stains out.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be grossed out.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m a grown man. I can handle anything your body does.” He assures you as he carries the sheets over towards the laundry room.

You soak in the warm bath for quite a while, but the cramps still persist. You anxiously check the time on your phone like a hundred times. The bake sale should be starting soon, so you need to get up and start getting ready.

A knock at the door disturbs your track of thought. “It’s me, darling. Can I come in?” Suguru’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, come in.” You answer back to him, and Suguru carries in a cup of tea before he shuts the door.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, princess.” He sits down on the floor next to the tub, and he carefully hands you the cup of tea.

“Thank you- I’m just trying to muster up enough strength to get up, so we can make it to the bake sale.” You say as you shift in the bath. The warm water and bubbles lap at your skin.

“Mmm, no need. Just focus on relaxing for right now, and we’ll see about making an appearance later on.”

“What do you mean? What about the girls? They’ll be devastated.”

“I had Manami take them to the sale. They’ll be fine.” He informs you as he pets your hair.

“Are you sure things will be alright? What if…”

“Ah, none of that. Things will be fine. You did a perfect job while planning everything. Our members are not incompetent people. They can handle a small bake sale, my love. I want you to just relax for today. Like I said, we might make a small appearance if you feel up to it later.”

“Sugu, I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

NANAMI

“Mmm, no can do. Sorry, it’ll have to be another day.” Nanami speaks into his phone as he’s looking at his calendar.

Ino has been begging to meet his wife for far too long now, so Nanami finally offered for Ino to come to yours and his house for dinner one evening. Planning it has been tough due to the vigorous schedules.

“Maybe it will just have to be next month.” Nanami shrugs his shoulders. He’s really not too bothered by not letting Ino meet you as he really tries not to involve you in his work life.

“Hm? Nanamin, what’s wrong with the 18th? We don’t have anything scheduled that day?” You ask curiously while tilting your head.

Your husband makes a face at you before he quickly taps the mute button on his phone. “Darling, according to your cycle, you’ll probably start your menstrual period that day. I highly doubt you’ll want any visitors over.”

Ah yes, you must’ve forgotten that you married a man who is literally obsessed with you and your happiness.

“That’s if my period comes on the day it’s suppose to. It could be late or early. You never know. Just invite him over. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You assure him, waving away his concerned gaze.

Yeah, that was a fuckin mistake.

You had worked for the better half of the day preparing Katsudon for everyone to enjoy when Ino and Nanami get off work. You had to take frequent breaks: sitting down or lying down to try to weather yourself through your cramps.

Nanami was right — your period started earlier that morning, and you absolutely did not want company over today. You kept trying to persevere — not wanting to admit that Nanami might know your body better than you do. Also, you weren’t a fan of cancelling plans last minute.

Though, when the kitchen started to feel like it was over a hundred degrees in there, and the room started to spin, you knew you had to call and say something to your husband.

“Hey darling, we’re almost there. Sorry we’re running behind. I had to teach Ino how to tie a tie.” Your husband speaks over the phone, and your heart instantly sinks into your stomach. This poor boy is wearing a tie to come and meet you, but you’re fixing to cancel.

“Nanamin…” You mumble sheepishly over the phone. You feel terrible for having to cancel, but there’s just no way you can power through it.

“Are you alright, darling..?” He asks cautiously. His ability to instantly tell when something was wrong with you was still astonishing to this day.

“You were right… I don’t feel good.”

“Oh darling.. I was right? You started this morning, didn’t you?”

“… yeah.” You reluctantly admit with a small pout. It’s bad enough that you’re cramping terribly right now. Now, you have to admit just how right your husband was.

“Good thing Ino’s not with me, and I never arranged for him to come by tonight.” He says with a small huff of amusement. “I’m getting you one of those cheesecakes you really like. Then, I’ll be home.”

Oh, to be married to the king of domestic love.

“Ken, I love you. Hurry home please.” Your heart is immediately melting in your chest. Marrying him was the best decision of your life.

“I love you more, darling.”

CHOSO

There’s nothing worse than being overcrowded while on your period, and currently, that’s what was exactly happening.

Sitting between Choso and Yuji on a too small couch while Yuji lore dumped about Human Earthworm 1 and 2 was literally a nightmare, but it was even worse since your stomach was cramping up so badly to where you couldn’t even hear the words spilling from Yuji’s mouth.

Immediately, you regret agreeing to hanging out with Yuji today, but you hated seeing your cute boyfriend’s face turn to disappointment when you tell him no.

You assured him that he could hang out with Yuji without you — you didn’t mind sharing him with his little brother at all, but Choso would always say that it’s more fun with you involved.

Thus, you’re squished between the oversized males on the couch, watching the third Human Earthworm movie for like the 5th time while Itadori points out every little easter egg.

Your stomach is cramping so badly — making you feel like you’re either about to throw up or pass out or the secret option of doing both. Your cramps are literally reverberating through your thighs.

You didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, but your heart was starting to pound in your chest. You lean your head back, trying to stop the room from spinning in your head.

“Baby?” Choso’s voice echoes in your ear. Yuji pauses the movie, and they both look at you with a concerned look. Your boyfriend could immediately tell that something was wrong with you.

“Yuu, go get her some water.” Choso instructs, and he sits up on the couch. His hands start to fan over your face, wafting air towards you to help out. “Baby, can you hear me?”

Yuji quickly scrambles from the couch, and he jogs to the kitchen to get you a cold glass of water. Choso and Yuji do not look any alike, but they both have the same caring heart.

“Cho, I feel like ‘m gonna throw up.” Your voice is barely a strained whisper.

“Okay baby, hold on. Hold on for me, pretty girl.” Choso brushes your hair back from your face, and he then quickly sprints towards the bathroom to get the trashcan for you.

Choso returns quickly, and he places the trashcan in your lap. “Here you go, baby.” He whispers softly, and he places his hand gently on your shoulder for moral support. He’s not too great at these things, but he wants you to know that he’s here for you.

“What’s the matter? Are you sick or..?” He asks you, still trying to get to the root of what’s got you so ill all of a sudden.

“Cramping..” You murmur quietly, and Choso instantly feels like a fool. You told him you started your period this morning, but he completely forgot.

“I’m so sorry, baby… Do you still feel like you’re going to throw up?” He asks as his eyes never leave your face. Your head is still tilted back, and your eyes are closed.

“No.. I think it passed for now.” You reply quietly, taking the small moment of reprieve that your ovaries decided to give you.

“C’mere, princess.” Choso mumbles lowly, and he scoops you into his arms bridal style before standing up. “Let’s get you into bed, yeah? I’ll get you some pain medicine and your heating pad.”

“Mmm.. love you, Cho.” Your voice is muffled against his shoulder.

“Hey Yuu, don’t worry about that water, kay? I’m gonna get her to bed. We’ll finish the movie maybe sometime next week.” Choso calls out to his brother that is miraculously still in the kitchen.

Yuji was cowering in the kitchen with his ears covered because he heard you say you were going to throw up, and his emetophobia started acting up.

“Great! See you later!” He shouts as he sprints out the house, getting as far away from there as possible.

MEGUMI

Visiting Gojo in his vacation home was something you’ve been looking forward to for months now. Gojo owned a vacation home up towards the snowy peaks, and he invited you and Megumi to come up there and stay for a week during the winter.

You had planned so many fun activities to do with Megumi like snowboarding, skiing, or building a snowman.

Not to mention the thought of cozying up to your boyfriend in front of a fireplace sounded like exactly what you two needed after these past few stressful weeks.

The only kicker was the morning you two were set to leave, you started your period.

Trying not to panic, you packed a whole box of tampons and pads, and you packed like 15 extra pairs of underwear… just in case.

It would be fine, right? Maybe you and him could just spend more time cozied up rather than being out in the snow. Besides, Megumi didn’t really care what you two did. He was happy with whatever you picked out. As long as you two were together, he’d be fine with whatever activity.

You just had to make it through an eight hour car ride…

By hour two, your entire body is screaming at you. Your lower tummy feels like it’s on fire, and the pain is shooting through your back. No matter how many times you shift, you’re not comfortable.

It’s hot in the car, but then, it’s too cold. You’re so damn uncomfortable that you’re nearly in tears.

After your nth time shifting in your seat, Megumi finally speaks up. “Are you already that antsy? We’ve barely started..”

“No, I…” You wince before slightly doubling over in the passenger side seat. “I’m just cramping a lot.”

“Shit, really? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks as he glances over at you with a look of concern. He’s well aware of how severe your periods can get sometimes. He’s taken care of you enough times to see exactly how much pain you’re in.

“I thought I could power through.” You sniffle, instantly feeling guilty for putting a damper on the trip.

“Hey, hey..” Megumi reaches over and runs his fingers through your hair. He keeps his other hand on the steering wheel — trying his best to drive safely and comfort you at the same time. “It’s alright. You’re really hurtin’, huh?”

“Mhm…” You quietly hum in agreement, and you lean your head on Megumi’s hand.

Without saying another word, Megumi takes the next exit, and he drives for a minute, ignoring your questions. He then pulls into a fancy looking hotel before putting the car in park.

“Stay in here for just a second, yeah? I’ll be right back.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving the car and walking into the hotel lobby.

A few minutes pass before he returns to the car. By the time he’s back, you can already feel a migraine starting to kick in.

“Can you walk, gorgeous?” He asks tenderly as he unbuckles your seatbelt for you,

“Yeah — I can walk..” You reply in a pained voice.

“Alright. Let’s go in here. I got us a room.” He offers his hand, and he helps guide you out of the car before he grabs both of the suitcases.

“What..? What about Gojo?”

“He can wait. Your health is more important. It’s not like his vacation home will disappear over night. We’ll see how you feel about driving some more tomorrow. If not, we’ll turn back around and head home.”

“Are you sure..? I don’t wanna ruin the trip.” You sniffle before rubbing your face. Your stomach starts to cramp up again, nearly making your knees buckle. Megumi’s hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you into the hotel lobby.

“I already told you, gorgeous. I don’t care what we do. I just want to be with you.”

SUKUNA

Sukuna could smell the exact minute your period started. Blame it on him being a curse.

He avoids you like the plague when he knows you’re bleeding because he truly believes that he will only make your pain worse. He knows he’s not the nicest, so he just tries to stay out of your way.

It’s definitely not because he’s terribly afraid of women who can bleed for seven days straight and not die.

“Ryo?” Dammit. You caught him.

“Yes, woman?” He reluctantly turns to look at you. You were wearing an elegant dress that he usually loved to peel off you before completely ravaging you.

“Are we… not doing tithe today..?” You ask with a small frown. You had gotten dressed up for the purpose of addressing yours and Sukuna’s subjects.

“No… I’ll hold tithe next week.” He nods his head. Truthfully, he had concerned himself so much with avoiding you that he had forgotten all about tithe.

“But… you always do it on the first of the month..” You’re nearly in tears. Why was he avoiding you? Did he not want to be seen with you? Was he embarrassed of you now? So many insecure thoughts and high-running emotions.

Sukuna’s literally sweating. What the fuck did he say to make you upset? “Why do you cry, woman? Don’t cry. I didn’t realize tithe was that important to you. We’ll have tithe right now.”

“You don’t love me!” Fat tears are running down your cheeks. Your hormones making you feel like the worst person on planet earth right now.

“Who the fuck said that!?” Now Sukuna’s shouting too. This is a mess. He just wants you to not bleed and to not be sad.

A moment of silence between the two of you allows him to reflect for a moment. He looks at you as you’re just looking up at him with big teary eyes, and he quietly sighs before pulling you into a hug.

“Let’s go do this tithe, and then, you can explain to me what I’ve done to make you feel so down.”

Your mood changed just as fast. Maybe he did really love you! You sat on his lap at he was sitting on his throne. Curse after curse would come up and give whatever they could spare to the king as tithe.

You were sweet to each and every one, making sure to compliment each unique ‘gift’ that was bestowed upon you two. Truthfully, the curses loved having you as a queen, but even they were avoiding you today. They could smell your menstrual period as much as Sukuna could.

If you weren’t so focused on your cramps, you’d be a bummed out because now your subjects didn’t even seem to like you as much.

The king’s second pair of eyes darted towards you as soon as he could hear your breath shifting, but you still wore a smile. He decided not to question it.

But when you started to grip onto the throne and his arm tightly, your face was pale, and you could barely manage to speak, he immediately ordered everyone out.

“Alright, that’s enough. Get the fuck out.” He barked, and curses went scrambling everywhere. Hell, even Uraume took that as a direct order.

“What ails you, human?” He asks as his full attention is on you now. You’re practically a mess in his lap from the pain — feeling like you might throw up or pass out from how bad it hurts.

“Cramps.” You answer Sukuna lowly, and you try your best to breathe through them.

“How do I make them go away?” He asks, spoken like a true man… always wanting to fix everything.

“Sometimes a heating pad helps…” You wince as you can feel nausea bubbling up from how much pain you’re in.

“You said heat?” Sukuna asks as flames coat his hand.

“Not that much heat-!” You whine and shift in his lap before the flames dissipate.

“Make up your mind, woman.” He grumbles before he rests his palm on your lower tummy. His hand was still very warm from the flames, and you instantly ease in his lap.

His eyes stay fixated on you while you rest on his lap quietly, and he ever so carefully starts to rub your stomach. He finds your behavior very much cat-like. Too bad he really didn’t like cats — too unpredictable.

“How do I keep this from coming back?” He questions more to himself than to you.

“Pregnancy.” You murmur to him, half-asleep due to the immense amount of relief you felt.

“Great. I shall get you pregnant then.”

“What.”