#so please can we try and get along

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[red-moon-at-night]

let Helen be a flawed, complicated character who's allowed to have traits that might make her unlikeable (challenge level: impossible)

[clowningcrows]

lol i pregamed a tiny bit for agatha but now after finishing im just taking shots for coping reasons

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

guys i need to be dancing at a house party tipsy with someone im attracted to so bad btw. ive never been to a house party in real life (though id quite like to at least once) but i really have been desperately needing that specific (probably awful for me) sensory and social environment so bad lately

[yamikawaii]

whats fun is looking at the thread youre hanging on by and seeing where it's about to snap. whats even more fun is deliberately cutting through that thread because you know it'll just snap anyways so why bother clinging to it as if youll make it somehow

[eclecticopposition]

reread aurora comic again and it is nuts that octave and falst are just the same person. octave is just like if instead of finding a friend group falst met one nice boygirl who is like if a boy is a girl who is a boy in a dress and decided that actually this person is the ONLY good person, who they will fight and die for, and who they are completely borrowing a moral compass from, and to that end they will abandon the good person to endlessly undergo the trials and overthrow the government about it. because that's what the good person would want them to do. that's what makes them so good and worthy of their loyalty. they're doing this revolution for THEM. (that is not what the good person wants them to do. because the good person talks a big paragon game and does care about everyone but on a very real level is deeply selfish and just wants people to stay with them. but they will never admit this to octave or to anyone else. and they're completely mutually obsessed with each other even though they haven't seen each other since high school.)

and for those of you who know octave but not falst, falst is like if octave was a tough catboy who lived in the woods with no friends and then GOT friends and then was like I'm going to break the exact same number of bones that I usually break about it. and also has a WILD inferiority complex. like holy shit. "it's whatever I heal fast" kind of a guy. will you dumb assholes be tactical about this and let me get blown up for you?? no joke this guy thinks he is expendable in the way that octave thinks is laudable

[platinum-horizons]

4

edit: 4 was NOT supposed to be there i dont know how it happened

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[vaspider]

Listen to me. Listen very carefully:

They are trying to wear you out.

They are trying to wear you out, and they own most major social media now, along with many major media outlets. The disinformation machine is cranking along. You are going to have to slow the fuck down and read things before you help them wear out other people, too.

So you just saw a post about a real scary bill, hunh? Republicans want to make it a capital offense to pet dogs and repeal The Sky Is Blue Act of 1793, declaring the new official color of the sky to be squant? Damn, that sounds scary.

Let's go look up this fictitious "Make The Sky Squant Again Act" on GovTracker* & on the official legislative tracker on congress.gov!

Well, let's see... GovTracker estimates it has a 1% chance of even getting out of committee and a 0% chance of being enacted, while congress.gov says this bill has 2 cosponsors who have been in the House and combined total of less than a month. The bill doesn't have any actual text, and it was referred to 5 different committees.

That fictitious bill and a hundred others like it are quite literally not worth your time, and more than that, continuing to wring your hands about it and tell other people about the scary scary squant sky bill only does their work for them. It scares people, it makes them spend time and energy on it, and it wears them out. It is a legislative Gish Gallop, meant to throw so many things at people that we can't keep up.

Even calling or messaging your Rep in this case means their staffer has to waste time responding to you and letting you know that Representative Buttzonheads definitely won't support making petting dogs a capital offense, a thing that will never, ever happen regardless.

Staying engaged in this environment is going to require protecting your heart and protecting your energy, yes, but also protecting the energy of others. This is why WWII propaganda posters also included ones taking people to task for spreading panicky rumors and undermining morale.

Do you know why most observant Jews don't eat chicken and dairy together, even though the ban is on red meat and dairy together bc you're not supposed to cook the calf in the milk of its mother?** It's not because we think that chicken might secretly lactate or Just Because. It's because the rabbis decided that if I'm sitting out in public and eating turkey and cheese together, someone might glance at the turkey and mistake it for red meat and think, "oh, well, I know that Spider is a good Jew, there must have been a change, or maybe I can just justify it to myself that if Spider does it, it must be permissible to bend the rules just that much." And I would then be accidentally leading my fellow Jew astray. We are responsible for being even more careful for the sake of others than we are for ourselves.

It's the same principle here. We need to really be careful about the information we are spreading and check things past reading a news site. Is it true? Is it relevant? Is it meaningful? Is the news site one I recognize? Can I find meaningful independent corroboration on another site, which is to say, if I find an article about it on a second site, is it just quoting or rephrasing this site?

Yeah, that is a lot. But that's how we keep them from using us to lead our fellows astray.

*GovTracker is an independent site. They explain their methodology in their About section.

**I cannot say enough how I am not at this time interested in going on a Jewish Side Quest About Dietary Laws on this post. Usually, I love it, but hold off this time, please, y'all. Let's stay on target this once.

[acourtofquestions]

No. No, it couldn't have been a dream The escape, Rowan, the ship to Terrasen—

A dream. An illusion. Her escape from him, from Maeve, had been another illusion.

Had she said it? Had she said where the Keys were hidden?

Then a cool, cultured voice purred, "All that training, and this is what becomes of you?" Not real. Arobynn, standing on the other side of the altar, was not real.

"Even Sam held out better than this."

Fenrys snarled.

You could get out of these chains, if you really wanted," Arobynn said, frowning with distaste. "If you really tried."

No, she couldn't, and everything had been a dream, a lie.

"You let yourself remain captive. Because the moment you are free..." Arobynn chuckled. "Then you must offer yourself up, a lamb to slaughter."

Only hearing the King of the Assassins, unseen and unnoted beside her.

"Deep down, you're hoping you'll be here long enough that the young King of Adarlan will pay the price. Deep down, you know you're hiding here, waiting for him to clear the path." Arobynn leaned against the side of the altar, cleaning his nails with a dagger. "Deep down, you know it's not really fair, that those gods picked you. That Elena picked you instead of him. She bought you time to live, yes, but you were still chosen to pay the price. Her price And the gods'?"

Arobynn ran a long-fingered hand down the side of her face. "Do you see what I tried to spare you from all these years? What you might have avoided had you remained Celaena, remained with me?" He smiled. "Do you see, Aelin?"

She could not answer. Had no voice. Cairn hit bone, and—

Aelin lunged upward, hands grasping for her thigh. No chains weighed her. No mask smothered her. No dagger had been twisted into her body. Breathing hard, the scent of musty sheets clinging to her nose, the sounds of her screaming replaced by the drowsy chirping of birds, Aelin scrubbed at her face.

The prince who'd fallen asleep beside her was already running a hand down her back in silent, soothing strokes.

A dream. Just a dream.

She twisted, setting her feet to the threadbare carpet on the uneven wood floor.

"Dawn isn't for another hour," Rowan said.

Yet Aelin reached for her shirt. "I'll get warmed up, then." Maybe run, as she had not been able to do in weeks and weeks.

Rowan sat up, missing nothing. "Training can wait, Aelin." They'd been doing it for weeks now, as thorough and grueling as it had been at Mistward.

She shoved her legs into her pants, then buckled on her sword belt.

"No, it can't."

A gathering storm to the north had forced their ship to find harbor last night—and after weeks at sea, none of them had hesitated to spend a few hours on land. To learn what in hell had happened while they'd been gone.

The answer: war.

Everywhere, war raged. But where the fighting occurred, the aging innkeeper didn't know. Boats didn't stop at the port anymore— and the great warships just sailed past. Whether they were enemy or friendly, he also didn't know.

Aelin scowled. "What." It wasn't so much of a question as demand.

His gaze was unfaltering. As it had been when she'd returned from her run through the misty fields beyond the inn and found him leaning against the apple tree. "That's enough for today."

"We've hardly started." She lifted her blade.

Rowan kept his own lowered. "You barely slept last night."

Aelin tensed. "Bad dreams." An understatement. She lifted her chin and threw him a grin. "Perhaps I'm starting to wear you down a bit."

His canines gleamed. "You need to eat."

"I need to train."

She couldn't stop it-that need to do something. To be in motion.

No matter how many times she swung her blade, she could feel them. The shackles. And whenever she paused to rest, she could feel it, too—her magic. Waiting.

Indeed, it seemed to open an eye and yawn.

She clenched her jaw, and attacked again Rowan met each blow, and she knew her maneuvers were descending into sloppiness.

Knew he let her continue rather than seizing the many openings to end it.

She couldn't stop. War raged around them People were dying. And she had been locked in that damned box, had been taken apart again and again, unable to do anything.

Rowan struck, so fast she couldn't track it. But it was the foot he slid before her own that doomed her, sending her careening into the dirt.

"I win," he panted. "Let's eat."

Aelin glared up at him. "Another round."

Rowan just sheathed his sword. "After breakfast."

She growled. He growled right back.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "You'll lose all that muscle if you don't feed your body. So eat. And if you still want to train afterward, I'll train with you." He offered her a tattooed hand.

But Aelin said, "People are dying. In Terrasen. In-everywhere. People are dying, Rowan."

"Your eating breakfast isn't going to change that." Her lips curled in a snarl, but he cut her off. "I know people are dying. We are going to help them. But you need to have some strength left, or you won't be able to."

Truth. Her mate spoke truth. And yet she could see them, hear them. Those dying, frightened people. Whose screams so often sounded like her own.

Rowan wriggled his fingers in silent reminder. Shall we?

Aelin scowled and took his hand, letting him haul her to her feet. So pushy.

Rowan slid an arm around her shoulders. That's the most polite thing you've ever said about me.

Elide's eyes widened. Widened further as he opened his mouth, and took a bite. His swallow was audible. His cringe barely contained. Elide reined in her smile at the pure misery that entered the Lion's tawny stare. Aelin and Rowan had been finishing up a similar battle when she'd entered the taproom minutes ago, the queen wishing her luck before striding back into the courtyard.

Elide hadn't seen her sit still for longer than it took to eat a meal. Or during the hours when she'd instructed them in Wyrdmarks, after Rowan had requested she teach them.

It had gotten her out of the chains, the prince had explained. And if the ilken were resistant to their magic, then learning the ancient marks would come in handy with all they faced ahead. The battles both physical and magic.

Gavriel met her stare, and Elide again restrained her laugh.

She felt, rather than saw, Lorcan enter. The innkeeper instantly found somewhere else to be. The man hadn't been surprised to see five Fae enter his inn last night, so his vanishing whenever Lorcan appeared was certainly due to the glower the male had perfected.

Indeed, Lorcan took one look at Elide and Gavriel and left the dining room.

They'd barely spoken these weeks. Elide hadn't known what to even say. A member of this court. Her court. Forever.

He and Aelin certainly hadn't warmed toward each other. No, only Rowan and Gavriel really spoke to him. Fenrys, despite his promise to Aelin not to fight with Lorcan, ignored him most of the time. And Elide ... She'd made herself scarce often enough that Lorcan hadn't bothered to approach her.

Good. It was good. Even if she sometimes found herself opening her mouth to speak to him. Watching him as he listened to Aelin's lessons on the Wyrdmarks. Or while he trained with the queen, the rare moments when the two of them weren't at each other's throats.

Aelin had been returned to them. Was recovering as best she could.

Elide didn't taste her next bite of porridge. Gavriel, thankfully, said nothing. And Anneith didn't speak, either. Not a whisper of guidance. It was better that way. To listen to herself. Better that Lorcan kept his distance, too.

Whether the others knew what propelled her, they hadn't said a word. Aelin sheathed Goldryn and loosed a long breath. Deep down, her power grumbled. She flexed her fingers. Maeve's cold, pale face flashed before her eyes. Her magic went silent.

Fenrys sat in wolf form at the edge of the nearest field, staring out across the expanse.

Precisely where he'd been before dawn.

She let him hear her steps, his ears twitching. He shifted as she approached, and leaned against the half-rotted fence surrounding the field.

"Who'd you piss off to get the graveyard shift?" Aelin asked, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Fenrys snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Would you believe I volunteered for it?" She arched a brow. He shrugged, watching the field again, the mists still clinging to its farthest reaches. "I don't sleep well these days." He cut her a sidelong glance. "I don't suppose I'm the only one."

She picked at the blister on her right hand, hissing. "We could start a secret society-for people who don't sleep well."

"As long as Lorcan isn't invited, I'm in."

Aelin huffed a laugh. "Let it go."

His face turned stony. "I said I would."

"You clearly haven't."

"I'll let it go when you stop running yourself ragged at dawn."

"I'm not running myself ragged. Rowan is overseeing it."

"Rowan is the only reason you're not limping everywhere."

Truth. Aelin curled her aching hands into fists and slid them into her pockets. Fenrys said nothing didn't ask why she didn't warm her fingers. Or the air around them. He just turned to her and blinked three times. Are you all right?

A gull's cry pierced the gray world, and Aelin blinked back twice. No. It was as much as she'd admit. She blinked again, thrice now. Are you all right?

Two blinks from him, too. No,

They were not alright.

They might never be. If the others knew, if they saw past the swagger and temper, they didn't let on.

None of them commented that Fenrys hadn't once used his magic to leap between places. Not that there was anywhere to go in the middle of the sea. But even when they sparred, he didn't wield it. Perhaps it had died with Connall. Perhaps it had been a gift they had both shared, and touching it was unbearable.

She didn't dare peer inward, to the churning sea inside her. Couldn't.

Aelin and Fenrys stood by the field as the sun arced higher, burning off the mists.

Aelin shook her head. Another dream, or hallucination. "If she's on our heels with this army, I'm just ... trying to understand it. Her, I mean."

"You plan to kill her." The gruel in her stomach turned over, but Aelin shrugged. Even as she tasted ash on her tongue.

"Would you prefer to do it?"

"I'm not sure I'd survive it," he said through his teeth. "And you have more of a reason to claim it than I do."

"I'd say we have an equal claim."

His dark eyes roved over her face. "Connall was a better male than—than how you saw him that time. Than what he was in the end."

She gripped his hand and squeezed. "I know."

The last of the mists vanished. Fenrys asked quietly, "Do you want me to tell you about it?" He didn't mean his brother.

She shook her head. "I know enough." She surveyed her cold, blistered hands. "I know enough," she repeated.

[doodlemancy]

Hey, so, Patreon is lying to you about Apple forcing their hand.

Patreon is getting rid of 1st-of-the-month/per-creation billing, claiming a new decision by Apple has forced their hand. This will hurt a lot of creatives, and their excuse is bullshit. Allow me to explain.

In 2018, Patreon tried to impose a new ill-considered fee structure on everyone that would have cost creators a lot of smaller pledges. They ended up apologizing for this profusely; they have now deleted this apology from their website and unfortunately I was unable to find it on the Internet Archive. This was shameful, but to their credit they backed off quickly when things got ugly.

Back in 2021, Patreon discussed plans to force all creators into a rolling bill structure and get rid of first-of-the-month/pay-up-front billing. The community once again very decisively shouted them down, and they had to walk it back again. This whole fiasco damaged the already shaky trust between Patreon creators and staff.

This week, Patreon announced that, along with extra fees, Apple's policies were supposedly forcing them to move everyone over to the rolling fee structure that they first tried to get us to agree to in 2021. Patreon will tell you they are not happy about this. As a person who spent a long time watching Patreon make terrible decisions, I can tell you-- they are probably very happy about this, because it's exactly the smokescreen they needed to do what they've been trying to do for years, which is pull ALL Patreon creators away from 1st-of-the-month and per-creation billing.

The spin in the news I've seen so far is "Apple bullies Patreon, boo hoo hoo poor Patreon". This is very obviously not what's happening. Mind you: Apple does suck, and they are doing something bad here. Fuck apple. But Patreon and Apple are BOTH the asshole in this situation; Everyone Sucks Here. Patreon has options: they can make the iOS app a reader app and do billing through the browser to avoid the restrictions and the extra fees (Netflix and Amazon, notably, both do this), or they can allow creators to opt-out of iOS billing if they want to use billing models that don't work with it.

It seems most likely to me that the Apple situation is a real fire that Patreon has chosen to use as a convenient smokescreen to do what they've been wanting to do since at least 2021, and maybe since 2018.

What do we do?:

They have a feedback form specifically about this.

They also have a creator discord.

And they have lots of social media pages where they probably really, really hope that this doesn't blow up again, because they never learn. The incidents I've described here aren't the only two other times Patreon has pissed off their creators. They know if they don't contain the noise it'll be harder to get away with it, so make some noise. They've done a lot of work to spin this cleverly so you'll have sympathy for them and they won't get the kind of backlash they know they deserve.

Please don't misuse these links and make threats or spam or something. All you have to do is give well-reasoned feedback. Patreon hates feedback. Make sure they get a nice heaping helping of their least favorite vegetable.

[phagodyke]

venting sorry... don't want to just delete it bc it helps to get it out just ignore this post pls 👍

haven't slept much at all and feeling so sick andstressed and in pain bc my period is due and so tired its making me dizzy but i cant sleep more or ill just feel more sick and I want a hug and to cry so hard into someones shoulder but no one cares or will even come near me it makes me feel diseased they think things about me that aren't true bc I struggle so much to communicate and thry all make assumptions insteqd and no one wants to give me space to talk to them about it so I cant undo that now and its all my fault and I'm so. exhausted :-(

[tonycries]

I-T G-I-R-L!

Synopsis. Making big, powerful boys break beg and follow your every whim? Easy!

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, NÉEDY boys, making them whine, bondagé, creampíes, GOJO’S POWERS, chokíng Geto, use of “good boy”, cúmplay, spítting, making them CRY, MAJOR overstím, bégging (THEM), pússy-slappíng, oraI (fem receiving), face-ríding, matíng presses, dry húmping, overspill, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (whew)

A/N. Woke up n’ decided I wanna bully them so here we are. Have a lovely day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - MR. AND MRS.

“P-please.”

“What was that?”

“Fuck you-”

It was low - begging - and for the first time, you have that syrupy sweet privilege of hearing Toji’s husky baritone break with such a whiny crack at the end. 

Smugly, you swipe an index right across where your puffy pussy was straddling his poor, overworked cock. Collecting the saturated mess along his furious length - still so swollen with the sheer volume he’d been gushing out tonight. All the way up, up, up to that messy puddle of seed glistening all over his flinching abs. “Then…I guess m’not letting you cum inside, Toji. Again.”

“No! No no no- oh.” Toji’s burst of pained moans are cut off when you shove your fingers between his bruised lips. Dewy, green eyes rolling to the back of his head with each suck and slurp at their milky white sheen. “Fuck- you little-” And despite how furious he sounds, you could feel the very tip of his fat head thicken, twitching a jagged pattern along your cervix. With a low growl, Toji narrows his gaze, biting down on your now-clean digits with his sharp canines, “I said- please, my girl.”

Just that simple plea has your boyfriend’s jaw clenching, teeth gritted so viciously at the way you’ve been oh-so-coyly denying him the one thing he’s wanted for what feels like hours now. 

“Louder.” your lips curl into a devilish grin, back arching in that perfect bow Toji loved so much. Only deepening the lingering rolls of your hips down his needy tip. “Didn’t hear ya.”

“F-fuck.” Toji’s throwing his head back, thick fingers coming down to splay out across your bent thighs. “Can you- please-” You could feel every minute flex of his muscled thighs when he efforts to buck your sloppy hips deeper - faster - down his fat cock. Only to be halted by ten mean fingernails of yours pinning him down by his curving pecs, “-please. Wan’ cum inside- let me cum inside goddammit, woman.”

Of course, you decide to tease him by slowing down your pace even more. Letting your sloppy pussy just stroll down every greedy inch of his dick. Trying to hold back your content giggle, “I dunno…”

And Toji thinks he could yell out in frustration, he thinks he could sob, “Fuck- I said please. Pretty please? What more do you fucking want?”

He sounded so devastated. And you swear you could spy wet, bulbous tears at the corners of his long lashes, the familiar scar along his lips wobbling with such precious need. 

“Hmm–” you’re letting out such a sultry drag of your voice, taking so much of your sweet sweet time that Toji thinks he’s about to lose his mind. About to just flip your bratty self over and shove his thoroughly teased cock into you until you forget about that looming threat of not letting him paint your insides white. Fuck, the things he does for you-

“Call me your wife.”

Shit - Toji’s darkened eyes widen at your little request, jaw hanging open in disbelief and-

“That’s it?” he laughs - laughs. Rumbling out of his broad chest in a hoarse rasp, and those two strong arms of his tug down your limp body to kiss teasingly at your jutted-out lips. Slipping his hot tongue between the seams, “S’all because my hah- baby wanted to be my- my pretty lil’ wife. Well-” Any and every retort is fucked out of your mind when Toji’s spearheading into your mushy g-spot with a harsh rut of his hips. “-what my wife wants, my wife gets.”

The bed is creaking with every riotous slam, smearing the velvety pool of cum even farther between your bodies. Sticking to you like a sloppy second skin, strings of lewd juices form and snap when his massive cock stretches your gummy walls until they gape. 

“Shit- shit shit shit, if I knew that was all you wanted-” you’re feeling the languid drag of Toji’s happy trail scratch your throbbing clit. “Please- I would’ve been fucking my wife for s-so long now. Silly girl, s’all I’ve ever wanted- would’ve begged, gotten on my knees-”

“Hngh! Fuck-” you’re squealing when you feel him drip with even more saturated precum to coat your snug channel. One calloused palm of his coming between the two of your slick bodies to smear across the mess from his sweet highs, deftly angling them so that the rounded tips of his fingers are stuffing your leaky pussy with sloppy globs of his seed every time you’re slamming down. 

“Now now–”  It’s all you can do to gulp in heaving breaths to make your tone sound warning, but even that sounds too breathless - and both of you know it. Babbling away, “-don’t get so cocky- might just- hah, change my mind, husband.”

And fuck. Oh fuck. 

Your poor cunt just throbs when in a split-second, Toji’s mouth slacks even further, wrenching out a guttural groan. 

And then your gushing walls are milking out every ribbon of velvety cum that splurges into your tight pussy. It’s so much - too much, painting your insides all white with his seed. Toji’s gasping at the feeling of it sloshing around your elastic walls in slow, clingy swivels coating the both of you. 

His breath hitches when he spies down at the obscenely white mess below, globs of his cum slobbering messily down your inner thigh. Fuck, he’s never - never - came before you. This was-

“This better be a proposal, y’know.” you hum in amusement. “Or it would be interesting that you came early just becaus-”

“The fuck else would it be?” Toji’s gruffing out, two warm hands gliding to grip onto the globes of your ass. Still irritated. Still embarrassed. 

Ignoring your titter, he rams your teasing hips down with a sharp smack! like he was branding all five fingers onto your skin. Plugging your ravaged entrance shut with his weepy dick to stop even more of that thick, gushing cum from trickling out. You mewl when you feel his swelteringly wet tip quirk at the very bottom of your spongy cervix in interest, “Now be quiet and let me fuck you properly as my wife.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Hands-on intervention…

“You really are trying to get us fired, huh, my love?” he’s murmuring gently, “What do you think you’re doing this late, hm?”

Now, Nanami knew he shouldn’t have taken on those extra documents, he knew he should’ve been back home by now. Wrapped up in you and your cute gossip about what happened in your department today.

But here he was, sitting at his empty office. With you - stubborn as you are - straddling him like such a slut on top of his heavily manspread, muscular thighs, his favorite late-night snack. His coworker. His wife. 

“I should hah- ask you the same thing, Ken.” you’re grinning, the sinfully tight satin of your skirt hiking up with each slow, teasing roll of your drooly cunt against his clothed erection. It’s so messy. Your syrupy saturated slick mixing in with Nanami’s steadily beading precum. “Didn’t we both agree to no more late nights?”

He’s heaving out a shaky sigh, running a warm hand up and down your arched spine, “I know, I know. I apologize.”

That frantically achy little pulse of your slick-glossed cunt on top of him told him that he wasn’t forgiven just yet. And Nanami gulps - loosening that yellow, speckled tie of his with the tight bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Rich tone shaky - shuddering, even, “How- how do you want me to make it up to you, darling?”

You’re batting your lashes at his expansive mahogany desk. “Well…”

Of course he should’ve seen where this was going - with your high-heel-clad feet swiveling high in the air, digging into his broad shoulders. Stitches in your poor skirt popping and tearing with each bullying thrust your husband’s planting on your ravaged in this tight mating press. 

“K-Ken—” you’re letting out such a sickly sweet moan when his fat, weepy tip collides with the very bullseye of your sensitive g-spot. Your fingers work deftly to reach into your skirt pocket - pulling out that familiar tiny hot-pink bullet vibrator.

“Walkin’ around with that during work?” Nanami gasps, barely tearing his eyes away from that heavenly sight of your swollen pussy entrance wrapped around his girthy shaft. “Such a dirty girl you-” 

“Oh s’not for me.” 

And fuck, Nanami can only watch - can only gape his clenched jaw open when your devious fingers dip the feverishly shaky vibrator down, down, down to kiss so delicately at his thick hilt. 

“Oh!” His towering body wracks with a shiver, full, heavy balls clenching so tightly. Hammering his rawly aching cock so thoroughly into you, hips pistoning forwards with the carnal need for more more more- “Wait- Fuck! M-my love?”

“Yes–?” you’re humming, low and sultry and oh Nanami already knows he’s gone. He can only pray he leaves with his sanity intact. 

Splaying out two large hands on the sides of your head, the documents on top rustle in sync with those saturatedly hypnotic squelches echoing from your ravishing cunt. “Is this- s’this oh, fuck- please.” Nanami screws his eyes shut when you’re holding down the device even harder onto his glistening shaft. “S’this- is it- because I broke our hah- promise?”

“Maybe.” you’re breathing out into his panting mouth. So enveloped by his weighty figure that it was almost difficult to work your little magic. “Maybe I just got tired of waitin’ around for you to finish overtime, Ken.”

“Please!”

Over and over. That tiny spark is enough to have him barrelling back into your dripping wetness with reckless abandon. 

He’s so utterly ruined - glasses sliding down his high nose-bridge, thighs quivering with sensitive need. And you could just feel every fresh wave of heated precum painting your cunt in a glossy new coat. “Fuck- tell me please. Please, darling, m’begging.”

“Promise me no more overtime.” You’re grinning, fingers still steady tracing his most sensitive spots. 

“P-promise…”

“N’ to always hurry home to me?”

“I promise! I promise- promise to always come home- to you- always. Please-” he’s startling you with a soft pad of his thumb rolling over your neglected clit. Such a low, broken keen leaving him at when you start drawing harsh, methodical circles on the sensitive spots along his length. “N-no more overtime. Please please please- feels too good- what do I do- what-”

Ah, success looked so pretty.

Nanami’s eyes were already so watery, stern lips trembling with little apologies about “never workin’ overtime again.” So uncharacteristically disheveled in a way that makes your mouth water.

“Shit-” you hiss when that pointed nub of the vibrator accidentally hits your widely stretched-out pussy. The velvety cling of your walls making him hiss furiously. Disrupting, fat tip nudging all those crevices along your snug channel. “Hah- don’t think I’d let you off so-”

Before you can react, he’s hiking a long leg up on the desk to angle his crashes with scary accuracy. Just colliding against your bulbous g-spot with no hesitation. Pushing, with the very edge of his weepy tip - far, so far that you could scream.

Over and over and over- So elastically stretching out your snug hole to your limits to take him in all his long, throbbing entirety. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck I know, I know.” He’s alternating between long, rough strokes to shove you further and further up the cool desk, and shallow lingering grinds to mold your pretty walls to the exact form of his swollen shaft. “I’ll do anything- anything, please just- cum.”

It only takes a few more calculated pistons of his hips, and a touchy, teasing smack! onto your weepy cunt before you’re crashing headfirst into your orgasm. Cumming all around his wildly twitching shaft, your velvety walls just mending all around the shape of his pretty cock. Your toes curl, back arching into such a bowing bend. And in the split-second your grip weakens, Nanami’s seizing that hot pink devil in your hand.

“F-fuck wait-” you squeal at at familiar bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt echoing across the filled-out walls of your cunt. Squeezing inside the tight fit where Nanami’s fat shaft was nestling, tremoring so deliciously against each and every one of your sweet spots. Stuffing you full. “What-”

“Don’t forget - you’re working overtime, too, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - No need for air

“F-fuuuck, gorgeous.” Geto’s melodic moan makes your cunt throb, a fresh gush of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down to where he was slapping your puffed-up clit with his fat head. The angry divot of his tip smacking up once, twice onto the too-sensitive nub. 

“So fuckin’ wet f’me-” he whispers from behind, gliding a thumb across the glossy sheen trickling down from the corners of your slit. The sight of his glistening fingers makes him bare you with such a crazed, feral grin, feeding you inch by fucking in languid, bullying rams. “-almost makes me forget the hand around my throat.”

At this, your nails are digging in even deeper around the pale, long column of his throat. Leaving neat, red indents that stand out. And you swear you could spy his leering grin grow even wider at that sinful sting. 

“What about it, Sugu?” you’re grinning over your shoulder. Gasping for air at how relentlessly he was trying to squeeze his fat shaft through that tight, glossy ring of muscle. 

Each drag of his throbbing shaft has your fingers tightening more around his throat. Making Geto feel so woozy and lightheaded with each little grind into the glistening channel past your puffy folds. “Heh, really like fuck- it rough like this, huh?” A low groan drags at the back of his throat when you start pushing your limp hips back in a jerky little cadence to try and meet his. “Shit- shit shit shit s’too good. You’re suckin’ me up so tight s’almost hard to fuck into ya. Almost makes me wanna-”

“Cum inside?” 

This earns you a punishing smack! on your bulging cunt, cool metallic rings of his burning into your skin. So sopping wet and struggling to expand your gummy walls around his expanding girth. Drawing out a dark chuckle from the depths of his chest, “Real funny, gorgeous. You and I both hah- know s’jus’ your hngh! cockdrunk mind talking.”

“Nooo—” you’re tugging him in a desperate, vice-like grip to crash your lips against his. Whining against his lips, “S’not. Really really want you to cum inside, Sugu. F’me - please? Like a good boy?” 

It was a little slip of your tongue - really - and you didn’t expect anything more than another teasing slap to your cunt, maybe even a joke at your expense.

But what you didn’t expect was for the sloppy cadence of Geto’s hips to falter just a bit. You’re turning your head just in time to catch that glassy, far-away look in his eyes, jaw slacking open to let out a shocked gasp. You hear a sharp pop! from his toned hips before they’re surging forwards to barrel your poor cunt with every weighty inch of his girth. 

Over- and over and over- One large hand of his is catching around yours to squeeze - warningly. Letting out a strangled, “G-gorgeous…”

Oh? 

Brows quirking, you’re batting your lashes so syrupy slow, “Are you gonna be my good boy, Sugu? Make me a momma?”

Another lewd push and pull, having you bouncing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones with such loud smacks! of skin-on-skin. Ringing into the humid, heady air and wracking his body with almost-painful shivers. 

“F-fuck–” He’s struggling to find the words - to even think with his melty mess of a mind. Such a delicate blush burns at Geto’s scowling cheeks when you’re facing him with a surprised grin - one he hides by latching his lips onto the crook of your neck, hiding away the smile threatening at his plump lips. “God- you’re gonna be the death of me. Don’t you fuckin-”

Your firm grip grows even firmer, resolving to him choking in large, breathy exhales. “Good boy.” Craning your arm around deftly to cup his pretty cheek. “You’re gonna do what I say, right?”

Shit, he was a goner.

It has the same effect, and once again, your big bad boyfriend is reduced back into a whiny mess. He’s planting two strong legs on the drenched silken sheets to fully fuck his bullying cock all the way into the back of your plushy pussy. 

Usually sharp tongue so heavy and slurring. Babbling out little pleas into the rhymically jiggling valley of your breasts - “Ohhh yes- yes yes yes please let me- wanna- m’your good boy, right? Let me cum inside, hngh shit! Wan’ you to take it- ah- a-all, make you a momma.” 

He lets out wet, feverish pants when you drag him close enough to moan that dangerous little word into his mouth. “Please? Please let me?” Geto nuzzles his cheek into your soft palm, heady movements so slow. Syrupy - like he was moving through molasses. And it’s like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing when he’s popping one of your fingers into his mouth. Delicate pink lips looking so pretty - depraved - wrapped around your ring finger. “Wanna knock you up- hah marry you.” His eyes roll to the back of his head, “Put a ring on this finger- n’ a baby in ya pretty pussy.”

Meeting that increasingly ruthless cadence by fucking back to memorize each thumping ridge, each prominent vein along his girthy shaft. Twitching. Angry. He’s nodding - nodding so feverishly - tears crinkling glisteningly at the corners of his lids. “Please- please call me that again. Let me make you a momma, please.”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence, because it only takes a few more solid, thorough swallows of his rummaging cock before he’s speechless. So fucking pussydrunk he can’t piece together anything but your name followed by a slurred-out string of profanities. Close. Too close. 

Staring into Geto’s heavy, half-lidded gaze, you whisper such a saccharine sweet, “Then, cum inside f’me like a good boy, Sugu.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Crybaby.”

It’s by the second orgasm that Choso feels a bit jittery, thighs quivering uncontrollably, chest heaving up and down in pained, ragged little gasps. 

It’s by the fourth that Choso feels nervous, he trusts you - of course, he does, you’re his sweet girl after all - and yet he can’t help that churning heat in his pulse. Heavy balls squeezing weakly with each glide of your soft palm down his red, achingly stimulated length. 

It’s only by the fifth that Choso is sobbing, big fat tears trailing down to his glossy lips. Such a rosy red and bitten in worry, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Oh, it takes everything in Choso to not cling on desperately to your feverish hand right now - dwarfed by his sheer girth, so glossy with a thick sheen of precum - yet still dragging up and down relentlessly. Treating him like some toy. 

“Baby–” your beloved boyfriend’s wet gasp catches in his throat when you swivel a curious thumb underneath his sensitive slit. Letting a fresh gush of his saturated precum glisten down to your wrist. “Baby baby baby- please. P-please, I don’t think I can- ngh- give y’anymore.”

“I think you can.” your leveled hum cuts through his frantic pleas. “Don’t you think? After all, you were so happy getting off to my panties like this, weren’t you? Ruining them?”

It’s like the very memory of his shameful act has Choso fucking his jerky hips up into your soft touch, arching his muscled back into a beautiful curve on your soaked bedsheets. Oh, how embarrassed he felt - how shameful, being caught in the very act by you, fingers deep in your panty drawer. 

Despite his very obvious need, he’s shaking his barely-lucid head. Damp, dark tresses sticking to his sweat-glossed forehead, curtaining those glassy eyes. Slurring out, “Fuck! Please m’sorry m’sorry I don’t think- can’t-”

So deceivingly innocently, you’re batting your lashes in a way that has his massive girth jolting ferally in your hand, “But that’s all I really want, Cho~?”

“...”

Leaning down, Choso could feel your mean smirk against his hotly flushed skin. Dragging up his salty trail of tears, kissing so gently meanwhile your next words made him think he’d pass out. Sultry, and whispered right against the shell of his ear, “Then we better make this last one count, right?”

“Ah!” he’s yelping, large hands scrambling for the sheets - the headboard - you when you seat yourself so prettily on his splayed-out lap. Greedy cunt feeding into every long, solid inch of his achy cock in an easy glide. It felt so good - it hurt so good. Fuck, he thinks he’s gonna-  “-die.” Choso rasps, jittery hands coming to rest at your waist. “Think m’gonna die- gonna- fuck fuck fuck-”

You didn’t even have to think of moving, yet - because all it takes is for Choso’s gushy tip to be swallowed up by your snug channel - the slightest taste of heaven, the slightest squeeze - before you’re being slammed down onto the plush mattress.

Breath puffing out of your lungs, gasping at the sheer stretch when your dangling legs are being thrown over Choso’s broad shoulders. Wrapping tight into a vice-like grip when he folds you in half, down, down, down into the meanest mating press you didn’t think either of you capable of.

But rationality was the last thing on Choso’s mind, right now. 

“Baby—” he’s hissing, fully sheathed inside your dripping cunt to that thick hilt of his. He gulps at the stars bursting behind his lids with each slow, lingering grind. Nuzzling into your touch, “Baby, can’t b-believe you’ve ahh- brought me to this state. M’sorry hah- please forgive me.”

And you almost feel bad - that is, until Choso’s swiping his fat tip against your spongy cervix. Still feeling every single pads of your fingers burning down his raw shaft every time your puffy cunt milks him tight. He’s jutting in jerky, unmethodical little humps - feeling less human than just sheer need. 

“W-well-” you’re gasping, when he gives such a ruthless smash into your bruisingly bulging g-spot. Bonelessly, you wrap your arms around his pale neck, tugging him in so close. A full-body shudder wracks through his entire body when you crane your glossy lips up to bite down on his ear lobe, “-how about you cum f’me again to make up for those three limited edition panties you stole.”

His jaw falls even more slack at your little sentence, a shiny trail of drool dripping from the corners of his ravaged lips. 

“Baby, please.” he’s hissing, moving pistoning even sloppier into you as if on autopilot. A cracking ah! ah! ah! leaves Choso’s mouth at every bullying crash against your g-spot, every dizzying thrust. “Anything else. Please please-”

Through his blurry vision, the blood roaring in his ears, Choso could make out your soft suckling kiss against his slack lips. “Cum f’me, Cho.”

Maybe it’s that honeyed little nickname, maybe the way the curve of your thumb glides away his mess of syrupy saliva. Or maybe it was the way your velvety walls come to form around him so tight - squeezing almost meanly. Once. Twice. 

Choso doesn’t know - nor does he fucking care right now.

“F-fuck I can’t believe-” his eyes snap so comically wide open, letting out such a long, drawn-out drawl of your name. Hips stuttering to smack forwards, “-m’cumming- shit, it hurts- it feels so good. M’cumming m’cumming-”

Choso cums - in ghosting, wispy streams of almost-translucent fluid. Withering out into nothing, until his poor, overworked cock is spurting out just blank heavals. Cumming dry, the only signs of him fucking you through his high being that shaking in his thighs, that frantic twitching of his shaft - flinching to nudge into each dripping sweet spot inside you. 

And his broken, pleading cries, “Fuck- m’buying you the hah- wh-whole store. Fuck- please, baby just-” Nudging his sobbing cock even deeper to brand at your cervix, “-just one more.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TASTE

“You little-”

“What?” you’re leering down at the great Ryomen Sukuna. Pink locks splayed out across the decadent silk sheets, pretty face framed so perfectly by your thighs. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Not quite.” his long, rosy tongue licks a strip up your exposed skin. All the way up from about midway at your inner thigh to just the edges of your drippingly wet panties. Syrupy sweet, and see-through with all your juices. “You really think this is gonna make me say sorry for uh-”

You have to stifle a low laugh when Sukuna cuts himself off with a ragged hitch of his breath. Sharp, cursed eyes widening - just a fraction - honing in to let his greedy tongue loll out. It takes him only a split-second to catch that droopy ooze of your slick, beading through your sopping slit and right onto the middle of his tastebuds. 

“Mmm-” he’s licking that lewd little gloss all over his lips without even a shred of abashedness. “Where- uh where were we, brat?”

Without warning, you’re lacing your fingers through his surprisingly soft strands. Pulling - hard enough to make him groan - until the tip of Sukuna’s nose was just kissing at the lacy mound of your cunt. 

“I believe…” you’re smirking at the way that’s all it takes for him to slide the thick seam of his tongue between the thin fabric of your panties. Red - to match his eyes. Not wasting even a second when he lets your honeyed sweet cunt drool all the way down to the back of his throat. “Not gonnna make him say sorry” your ass. “-you were in the middle of apologizing for forgetting our little dinner date.”

You don’t think he hears you - you don’t even think he breathes. Because with one, final shuddering breath puffed out onto your quivering pussy, Sukuna is meshing his lips with yours in such a messy kiss. Fast, thirsty. Clashing against your swollen folds, slurping past your flimsy excuse of panties to latch around your throbbing clit. He’s hollowing out his cheeks to give them harsh, methodical little sucks. 

“Shit- mmpf- fuck I always forget how sweet you are.” he’s rasping, two large hands coming up to spread the globes of your ass. Pushing you up, up, up to slobber all your saturated slick down the lower half of his face - his cheekbones. “C’mon now, ride my nose- hah, use me with this cute cunt like you always do.”

Fuck, was it tempting. And it takes everything in you to tug away his salivating mouth with a loud squelch! And if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that the infamous king of curses let out a whine - a whine - watching those delicate strings of spit and slick snap away when you hoist yourself off his greedy mouth.  

“What the fuck, woman?”

“I told you, Kuna.” you whine out, as scoldingly as you can. Wrangling against those big beefy arms trying to desperately pull you back down, “You hafta apologize.”

You’re teetering precariously when Sukuna’s entire chest rumbles with a groan, eyes rolling so sassily. “What did you want me to do?” he clicks his tongue. Baring you with such dangerous fangs that glisten with your juices in the dim light. “Had to kill off some scum curses, s’not my fault. M’not apologizing for- shit-”

Any and every retort is knocked out of his mean mouth at that heavenly sight of you running your trembly fingers between your puffed-up pussy lips. Pushing past your panties to run them up and down where your dripping wet cunt needed you most. 

“Oh?” you’re quirking a brow at how transfixed he was. Following that shuddering gulp when you roll your neglected clit between two fingers. “Cat got your tongue now?”

His jaw slacks open when you’re teasing your winking hole, glossed-up and already so pliant with where Sukuna had just dipped the edge of his soft tongue inside. His mouth waters at the memory, “I–”

“Or is it that you just don’t hah-” you’re arching your back even more to give him the perfect view. Fingers getting a bit more frenzied, circling around the very edge of that ring of muscle the way you knew he loved to do. “-want this-” Whining out, “-Kuna–?”

That was it.

“Fuck, sit-” Sukuna’s gritting out through clenched teeth. And when you’re only stagnating and hovering tempestuously in front of him, he wraps all four large arms around the small of your waist. “-fucking sit, woman.” 

You’re squealing at the force of his inhuman strength, dragging you down unceremoniously onto his awaiting mouth. With this, he’s spitting on your cunt. Once. Twice. Three whole times to add to the glistening gloss that collected down your folds. 

“M’sorry, see?” he goads pridefully. Oh, if anyone heard the cruel king of curses apologizing like this, they’d faint. Giving the fat of your ass a branding smack! Hard enough that he could feel all five bumps of his sweltering fingers on your skin. “Fuckin’ little- oh- spoiled little-” But Sukuna can’t even finish his sentence - can’t even think about it with his mind so saturated. Hot tongue mashing in to swerve and drag across those sweet spots hidden at your plushy walls. “Said m’sorry, s’this good enough for you?”

Your pussy such a sopping wet mess that Sukuna can’t help but kiss again. And again. And again and again and- “See m’sorry. M’so, so sorry- fuck just never take this pretty pussy away from me, little brat.” 

And now you’re sure he lets out a whimper - raspy, and a few octaves higher than his usual baritone. So deep now that he was just cinching your pulsing clit across his sharp nose. Murmuring, “Stop laughing- can feel ya shaking- before I cancel our dinner reservation for tomorrow. M’renting out the whole fuckin’ restaurant, so ya better give me my fill.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Bed chem.

“It won’t-” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the great Gojo Satoru was pleading right now. Praying. Voice shot, pretty pink lips wobbly, pale hand raw and red from tugging on those fluffy handcuffs. He’s pouting, “Won’t work.”

He was so picture-perfect, restrained tight to the headboard with those customized handcuffs you’d ordered. Blinking his weepy, blue eyes droopily, slurring words that were all bark and no bite. 

You’re rolling your eyes, giving his spit-glossed lips a lingering little peck, “Didn’t think you were such a pussy, Toru?”

“F-fuck who are you calling a-” It makes your cunt absolutely drip with a fresh wave of honeyed juices when you give his sensitively overworked shaft another thorough glide of your drooling walls. Meshing your pussy lips with the very hilt of his angry, red cock. “Please- fuck when you’re riding me like that, sweetheart.” he’s yanking frantically on those restraints as if to hold onto your feverishly gliding body. “Think- hngh! Think I really will explode-”

“Oh?” you’re cutting through his babbles, eyes flitting over his powerful arms, those glassy eyes that just seemed to glow in the dim bedroom lighting. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things, so you do think that- ah- your powers are linked to you-”

Your thoughts are spiraling into a gooey mess when Gojo’s uncontrollably strengthened thighs leverage themselves on the silken mattress to just rut up into your squelching pussy. 

“Jus’ wanna see, Toru.” you’re huffing, reaching a hand behind your ruthless hips to palm at his painfully squeezing balls. Rolling the soft pad of your thumb over the curve of their straining texture - just the way he liked it, “Wan’ you to cum f’me. Just wanna see.”

“Using all your dirty tricks-” he’s spitting, mouth sagging open to let you plant a few somewhat apologetic kisses down Gojo’s face. “I can’t-” Another harsh buck of his hips, and with such a loudly pornographic mewl he’s bullying his overwhelmed cock up, up, up to swerve into your neverendingly sloppy staccato - right into your sweet spots. “Fine- fucking fine- hah- use me. Use me for whatever- just, please. Fuck I just wanna cum- please—”

You’re very quickly realizing that those handcuffs can do nothing to restrain Gojo Satoru. In fact, the only reason they’re still on him unscathed was purely out of indulging in your cute little play. 

Gifting you with such a sexily cocksure grin he tries to mask away his furious flush, his trembling voice with, “N-no, m’not a- hngh! M’not some grade 4 sorcerer. I’m the fuuuck- strongest, why would my powers go out of control when I cum- fuck-

Gojo’s blabbering mouth is cut off with each gripping slide down his achy cock. Molding your plushy walls to each of his eager twitches, so fucking massive that you had to balance your hands on your boyfriend’s broad deltoids to even have him reach each hidden deep spot inside you. 

It makes him throw his head back, it makes him cry out, it makes him whine. 

And it only takes a few more churning strokes of Gojo’s hips, a few more critical mashes into the spongy bullseye of your g-spot before you’re cumming. So hard that you don’t even realize it at first. 

Gojo does, though - of course, he does - fighting back against the velvety cling of your cunt to fuck you into the desk so deeply. So purposefully that he can almost feel every indented bruise of his fat tip hitting against your slick cervix, your bouncy g-spot. Wave after wave having you milking the fucking soul out of him and-

“Fuck m’gonna-” he’s whining, hips stuttering upwards like they’re pained to pull back from your heavenly pussy. If even just to thrust his greedy length all the way back in. Gojo’s breaths come out in ragged pants, chest heaving up and down. Somehow, the hairs on your body raise, and you can feel that familiar tension of pressurized atoms. “Can’t hah- last much longer. Fuck- please. M’close- gonna cum gonna-”

That sobbing little divot at the end of his angry, thick head just bursts with thick, long ribbons upon ribbons of sloshing white cum. Gliding across every inch of your tight pussy, coating all your insides in a creamy color that was so Gojo. 

It’s so much - dripping down the corners of your bulging slit in oozing little dredges, making such a mess of your rapidly overfilling cunt. Almost too much - it felt like you could explode. 

You’re almost missing that familiar little flash of blue lightning at the corner of Gojo’s pussydrunk eyes. Glowing and almost falling shut with just how fucking good it felt to have your milky cunt sloshing full of his seed. The thought- the thought makes him-

You’re gasping when the lamp by your sloppy bed starts flickering so dangerously, once. Twice. Before bursting into tiny shards that flick at the both of you - only to be stopped, falling to the surrounding blankets just a few centimeters short like they were hit by an invisible wall.

“T-Toru–” the sound of your voice makes something in Gojo’s heating body raise its dark, feral head. And he only wrenches out of those pathetic handcuffs to wrap two big, strong arms around your waist. Face burying into your skin, fucking up into you over and over and-

CREAK! 

The bed groans at his rough cadence, so loud even over the dragging wooden noises of some of the furniture nearby inching forward like they were briefly tugged by some magnetizing force - Gojo. 

Bingo.

And it’s like something snaps because you’re jolted with a sharp spark of electricity. White-hot pleasure blissing down your entire limp body, and suddenly your high feels like it’s being repeated over and over and-

“Hey- hey, sweetheart?” Gojo’s voice sounds so far away. Lazily, your heavy lids blink back your vision - when did it even become hazy? “...y’know how every science experiment has about five trials?”

“...”

A/N. I don’t want to write a longer version of Gojo’s but the demons in me want to write a longer version of Gojo’s…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cumironi]

A BRAT IS ALL I WANT ！

TOJI FUSHIGURO has a breeding kink, and you’ll be damned if you give into it! but in reality, he just wants to start a family with you.

warning. husband! toji fushiguro, breeding kink, ōral ( m! receiving ), fingering, nipple-playing, dirty talk, pet names, name-calling.

wc. 4,5k | in this megumi wasn't born yet.

sure, you loved being toji fushiguro's wife. however, he sure knows how to get your nerves screaming. your birth control switched out for ibuprofen, holes in condoms, fucking you raw in your sleep even!

“c’mon baby.. i want a brat…”

toji drawls, so sexy and arrogant. you absolutely fume, straddling his lap as he gives you that big, scarred, smile. he has a breeding kink, and you’ll be damned if you give into it!

“let me fuck you raw again, baby…”

you glare at him defiantly, hands on your hips as you straddle his lap. “absolutely not, toji! we've been over this. i'm not ready for a kid right now.”

he just grins up at you cockily, large hands gripping your waist. “aw c'mon babe, don't be like that. you know you love feeling my cum flood your tight little pussy.” is thumbs rub circles on your lower belly. “and i know you'll look so damn hot all round and glowing with my baby growing inside you."

you scowl and try to wriggle off his lap but he holds you firmly in place, erection pressing insistently against your ass. “unhand me, you brute!” you demand haughtily, “i won't be bred against my will!”

his eyes gleam with mischief and lust, hands tightening around your waist as he chuckles deeply. “oh, but darling... i think you're enjoying this way more than you let on,” he teases, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

his fingers trail down towards your thighs, deftly slipping under the hem of your skirt to tease along your inner thigh. “besides, who said anything about doing it against your will? i just wanna see those pretty tits swell up with milk and feel our son kicking inside ya...”

with a swift movement, he flips you onto your back on the couch before you can react, pinning you beneath his heavy frame. his breath is warm against your neck as he whispers huskily, “now why don't we make ourselves comfortable while we discuss this further?”

“you're such an infuriating man!” you huff indignantly, squirming underneath him despite yourself. “fine then, if i have to do this, you better make it worth my while!”

your hands reach up to claw at his chest, nails digging into the hard muscle there as you push against him. the firmness of his body pressed against yours sends shivers through your spine. “show me what else you can do besides getting me pregnant...”

he smirks down at you, clearly pleased with your response. “is that so?” he murmurs seductively, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your lips.

his tongue slips past them in a dominant sweep that leaves no room for argument. one hand moves from your hip to cup one of your breasts over the fabric of your shirt, thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple through the material.

“you've got quite the mouth on you when you're angry,” he growls approvingly before pulling away slightly to admire his handiwork— the flush spreading across your cheeks and chest. “but don’t worry baby... i plan on showing you plenty tonight.”

your breath catches in your throat as he continues his assault on your senses. you arch up into his touch, nipples pebbling harder against the palm of his hand.

“arrogant bastard...” you gasp out between moans, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the heat pooling between your legs.

but it’s futile— every brush of his skin against yours sets fire to your veins and makes your heart race faster. the sight of him looming above you like this, so powerful yet so gentle at times... it drives you wild.

“just remember this next time you decide to play doctor without consent,” you manage to say through gritted teeth before biting down on your lip hard enough to taste blood. he chuckles darkly at your words, but doesn't stop what he's doing. instead, his other hand slides down from your waist to grip your thigh tightly.

“oh, i'll remember alright,” he promises huskily before leaning down to capture another kiss from you.

his free hand slips beneath your shirt to find bare skin, tracing up along your ribcage until he reaches your breast once more. this time though, there's no barrier between them— only soft flesh meeting rough fingertips.

“feel good?” he asks teasingly as he rolls your nipple between two fingers causing sparks to shoot straight down to your core. the sensation of his touch on your bare skin sends shockwaves through you. a low whimper escapes from deep within your throat as he teases your sensitive nipple.

“too good,” you admit breathlessly, tilting your head back against the cushioned couch back. your hips instinctively buck upwards seeking friction against nothing but air. the need for something— anything— to fill that empty ache gnawing at you becomes almost unbearable.

“just because i say yes doesn't mean you get to take advantage of me,” you pant out weakly, trying desperately to keep hold of whatever shred of control left over. but with each stroke of his fingers over your heated flesh, it feels less like a warning and more like an invitation into pleasureland.

a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words. “take advantage? me?” he questions mockingly, though there's a glint of amusement in his eyes.

slowly, deliberately, he starts to slide downwards— kissing and licking a path along your collarbone before dipping lower still until he reaches the swell of your breasts. “i think we both know who's really in charge here,” he rumbles against your skin, hot breath ghosting over one hardened peak, “and it ain't you.”

without warning, he takes the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard— tongue swirling around it torturously slow while his hand continues its ministrations on the other side.

a sharp cry tears itself from your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. his mouth on your breast feels incredible; too much so for comfort. your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him close against you. despite everything you’ve been saying, it’s clear that you’re losing ground fast.

“don't stop...” you breathe out heavily, unable to deny him anymore.

even though part of you knows this isn't fair— that he's manipulating things to get exactly what he wants— another part relishes in being taken care of like this. and god help you, but it feels amazing.

“oh, fuck! just please...”

he hums in approval against your breast, the vibration sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. “that's it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before moving to lavish attention on its twin. “just let go and enjoy it. you know you love when i take charge.”

his hands roam your body possessively, palming your curves and squeezing roughly enough to leave marks. when he finally pulls back to gaze down at you, his expression is pure sin— dark eyes blazing with hunger and dominance.

“now, where were we?” he muses, voice dripping with promise as he starts to unbutton his shirt— revealing chiseled abs and a scattering of scars. “why don't you show me just how grateful you are for my attention?” he suggests, fingers already working to undo his belt buckle.

the sight of him undressing, even partially, sends a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. your breath hitches in anticipation as he leans closer again. “like this?” you ask, reaching out to trace a finger down his chest, feeling the ridges of muscles ripple beneath your touch.

your hand dips lower, brushing against the bulge straining against his pants. a smirk curls your lips at the feel of him throbbing beneath your fingertips. “or maybe like this?” you whisper suggestively, giving his hardness a firm squeeze through the fabric. his bulge feels heavy on your palm.

he lets out a low groan at your touch, hips jerking forward involuntarily as you fondle him through his pants. “that's it, baby,” he encourages, his own hands coming up to cup your breasts again, kneading them roughly. “get me nice and hard for you.”

with a swift motion, he frees himself from his trousers, allowing his thick cock to spring forth. it stands proud and erect, the tip glistening with pre-cum. “now why don't you put that clever mouth of yours to good use?” he commands, stroking himself slowly as he watches you with hungry eyes.

“lick it clean first, then take me deep inside that sweet little throat of yours. show me how much you want to be bred by me, my love.” the sight of his impressive erection makes your mouth water. with shaky hands, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his shaft. he's warm and solid in your grasp— a tangible proof of his arousal. you can't resist leaning in to lap at the precum beading at the tip, savoring the salty-sweet flavor.

leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss onto the head of his cock before taking it into your mouth. the salty-sweet flavor explodes on your tongue as you start to suck gently. “mmm, tastes good,” you murmur appreciatively before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and sucking gently.

as you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper into your warm, wet mouth with each pass, you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation. his musky scent fills your nostrils, and the weight of him on your tongue is intoxicating.

you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, determined to please him. your hand comes up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm as you work his shaft with increasing enthusiasm.

you bob your head back and forth, taking as much of him as possible into your warm cavernous space. each stroke sends tremors rippling through your body making it difficult to concentrate on anything else besides pleasing him right now.

a low, guttural moan escapes his lips as you take him deeper, the sound vibrating through you as you suck. his fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements.

“fucking hell, just like that,” he growls, thrusting shallowly into your mouth as you work him over, “such a good little cocksucker, aren't you?”

he rocks his hips in time with your bobbing head, fucking your face with increasing urgency. the sight of your lips stretched tight around his girth, the way your cheeks hollow with each suck, is almost too much to bear. “you're going to make me cum so hard down your throat if you keep this up,” he warns, voice strained with pleasure. “ready to swallow every drop like a good girl?” his pace quickens, driving himself deeper with each thrust.

your nose presses against his pubic bone as he hits the back of your throat, the pressure building with each thrust. tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you don't dare pull away.

“mmph!” you gag slightly as he bottoms out, but quickly recover, relaxing your throat to take him even deeper. the vibrations of your muffled moans add to the sensations as you continue to suck and lick at his shaft.

your free hand slides up his abdomen to tease his nipples, pinching and rolling them between your fingers as you service him. the dual stimulation of your mouth and hands pushes you closer to the edge, your own arousal building rapidly.

you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, watching his face contort in pleasure as you work him over. his hips buck wildly, driven by instinct alone as you manage to take him impossibly deep. the sight of those full lips wrapped tightly around his cock, trembling from effort and pleasure— it's all too much.

“oh fuck, right there...” he grunts out, eyes locked onto yours, “that's it, swallow every inch.”

with a final powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in your throat. he holds there for a moment longer than necessary, letting you adjust before beginning to move again.

“gonna fill you up soon,” he whispers hoarsely, his control slipping as ecstasy floods through him. his strokes become erratic as he teeters on the brink of release.

“just... just a bit more, my l-love...”

the feeling of him pulsing against your tongue is exquisite, his impending climax evident in the way his cock throbs and twitches in your mouth. you double your efforts, sucking harder and faster as you sense his orgasm approaching.

your throat constricts around him rhythmically as you swallow, milking his shaft for all it's worth. drool escapes from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving breasts.

you can feel your own arousal building to a fever pitch, your core clenching around nothing as you imagine him filling you up with his seed. the thought alone nearly pushes you over the edge. but you hold off, determined to make him come first. you want to taste his essence, to feel him pulse and twitch in your mouth as he finds his release.

with a guttural groan, he slams home one last time, holding you in place as his cock erupts in your mouth. thick ropes of hot cum coat your tongue, flooding your senses with the intense flavor of his release.

“fuuuckkk!” he bellows, eyes rolling back in bliss as he rides out his orgasm. his grip on your hair tightens, not painful but insistent, keeping you still as he empties himself into your eager mouth. wave after wave of his seed pulses across your taste buds, each spurt a testament to his pleasure. finally, with a shuddering gasp, he stills, his cock softening slightly within the confines of your lips.

“swallow it all, baby,” he orders, voice husky with satisfaction, “every last drop belongs to you now.”

you eagerly swallow every last drop of his cum, savoring the taste as it coats your tongue and slips down your throat. his seed is potent and rich, leaving an unmistakable warmth spreading throughout your belly.

reluctantly releasing him from your mouth, you sit back on your heels, panting heavily. your lips are swollen and bruised from their vigorous use, a satisfied smile curving them despite the discomfort.

you reach up to wipe away some of the drool trickling down your chin, smearing it over your cleavage instead. looking up at him through half-lidded eyes filled with lust and satisfaction, “did i do okay?”

he looks down at you, chest heaving with each breath as he fights to regain his composure. a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and disheveled.

“you always did, baby,” he replies, voice rough with residual pleasure, “best damn blowjob i've ever had.” he reaches out to run a finger along your jawline, tracing the path of a single tear that has managed to escape. his touch is surprisingly gentle given the intensity of what just transpired.

“but we're not done yet,“ he adds with a predatory gleam in his eye, “it's my turn to breed you now.” without waiting for further response, he pulls you towards him until you're straddling his lap once more. his cock is already starting to stir again, eager for another round. you wrap your arms around him, smiling so beautifully just like how you are, his sweet, sweet little wife.

feeling your arms encircle him, toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. his hands roam over your body, taking delight in the softness of your skin beneath his calloused palms.

“i'm glad you're mine,” he murmurs into your ear, nipping gently at the lobe, “i plan on making you feel very well taken care of.” his hands slide lower, pulling your hips flush against his growing erection. the sensation makes him groan in anticipation.

“so let's get started, shall we?”

you giggle softly, leaning in to press your lips to his in a tender kiss. as you pull back, you whisper, “i love being yours, toji. show me how much.” emboldened by your words, you begin to grind against him, your slick heat coating his length through the fabric of your underwear. the friction sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you, stoking the flames of desire even higher.

he captures your lips again in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. when you break apart, panting, he grips your hips firmly and begins to rock you against him, the motion deliberate and slow.

“that's it, ride my cock,” he commands, voice thick with need, “let me feel that sweet pussy of yours rubbing against me.” his hands slide under your shirt, palming your breasts roughly as he continues to grind you against his hardness. the sensation is maddening, each pass sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“fuck, you're soaked,” he growls, breaking the kiss to trail biting kisses down your neck, “can't wait to bury myself inside you and fill you up.”

you moan loudly, the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your clit driving you wild. you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his grasp as he tweaks and rolls your sensitive nipples. you can hardly stand it anymore; the need to have him inside you is overwhelming. you start to move faster against him, desperate for more contact.

“oh god, toji,” you whimper, looking into his eyes, “please, i need you... need you to fuck me.”

hearing your plea, toji's restraint snaps. with a swift movement, he stands up, carrying you effortlessly in his arms. he strides towards the bed, laying you down upon it with surprising gentleness considering the urgency of his actions.

“you'll get exactly what you ask for,” he promises, yanking down your panties with a rough tug. his gaze falls upon your glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

positioning himself between your thighs, he lines up his throbbing member at your entrance. without another word, he plunges deep inside you, stretching and filling you completely. “fucking perfect,” he grunts out, beginning to set a punishing pace. each thrust drives him deeper, hitting spots within you that make stars burst behind your eyelids.

a loud cry tears itself from your throat as he fills you entirely, stretching your walls deliciously. the sensation is overwhelming, causing your entire body to shake.

“oh, t-toji, baby..” you plead desperately, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him even deeper if possible. every stroke hits just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scratching lightly over his skin as you cling to him for support. you can't help but buck up to meet each of his powerful thrusts, desperate to take everything he offers.

he growls in approval, loving the way you claw at him as he pounds into your willing body. the sound of your cries and the sight of your breasts bouncing with each forceful thrust only spur him on.

“look at me,” he demands, his voice thick with lust, “want to see those pretty eyes when i breed you.” his hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you to him while he drives into you mercilessly. the slap of flesh echoes around the room, punctuating the symphony of moans and groans.

as he watches your face contort with pleasure, toji leans down to capture a nipple between his teeth, nibbling harshly before soothing it with a flick of his tongue. you obey instantly, meeting his gaze with wide, lust-filled eyes. the combination of his commanding presence and the raw pleasure he's giving you leaves you breathless.

“oh fuck, toji...” your voice trails off into a series of broken whimpers as he teases your nipple. the dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his teeth grazing your sensitive bud send shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

your inner walls clench around him involuntarily, trying to milk him for all he's worth. but it's clear that you're far from finished; there's still so much more you want from this dominant man.

feeling your walls flutter around him, toji can't hold back a satisfied grunt. he releases your breast with a pop, watching as a bead of blood appears where he'd been sucking. “good girl,” he praises, slapping your thigh lightly for emphasis, “keep coming for me.”

with renewed vigor, he starts slamming into you harder than before. each thrust goes deeper than the last, aimed directly at that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your vision. the bed creaks under their combined weight as he picks up speed, driven by pure instinct and carnal desire.

the sharp sting of pain from his bite quickly gives way to intense pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. your body bows off the mattress with each brutal thrust, helpless to resist the onslaught of sensation.

“o-oh god, oh god!“ you whimpering, your voice hoarse from crying out in ecstasy. your mind blanks, consumed solely by the primal urge to be filled, claimed, bred. you lock your ankles behind his back, using every ounce of strength to pull him impossibly deeper. your hips rise to meet his, creating a frenzied rhythm that threatens to shatter you completely.

the feeling of you wrapping yourself around him, urging him on, pushes roji closer to the edge. he feels your body tensing beneath him, signaling that you’re nearing your climax. “that's it,” he encourages through gritted teeth, “come for me, show me how much you love being fucked by your husband.”

his thrusts become erratic as he chases his own release. the thought of filling you with his seed fuels his arousal further. “going to breed you so good,” he vows before capturing your lips once more in a bruising kiss. the intensity of his words coupled with the relentless pace of his thrusts sends you spiraling into oblivion. a scream rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“i'm cumming!“ you cry out, your body convulsing around his cock as waves of pleasure rip through you. your juices coat his shaft, slickening the path for him to find his own release. your inner muscles clench and unclench rhythmically, milking him for all he’s worth. you can barely form coherent thoughts; all that remains is raw, animalistic pleasure.

feeling your pussy spasm around him triggers toji's own climax. with a guttural roar, he buries himself to the hilt and unleashes a torrent of hot semen deep inside you. “take it all, my wife,” he growls, his hips jerking erratically as he pumps you full of his essence. the sensation of his cum flooding your womb sends shivers down his spine.”

as the final pulses of his orgasm subside, toji collapses onto you, his heavy chest heaving against your own. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, marking you with gentle bites and whispers of praise. panting heavily, you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. feeling toji's warm seed fill you to the brim brings a sense of satisfaction and completion.

“handsome,” you murmur contentedly, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. embracing the intimacy of the moment, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he recovers. your bodies remain joined, the evidence of his claim still dripping from your entwined forms.

toji hums in pleasure at your touch, nuzzling deeper into your embrace. he presses a soft kiss to your pulse point, savoring the taste of your skin.

“mmm, you're beautiful too, the most beautiful,” he murmurs, slowly rolling you to your sides. even in this position, he remains buried inside you, his softening cock still nestled in your warmth. gently, he begins to rock against you, stirring the mix of his cum and your juices within your shared depths. he action sends pleasant tingles through both of you, prolonging the intimate connection.

“this was perfect,” he says, his voice low and satisfied, “just what we both needed.”

your body responds eagerly to his movements, each subtle shift reigniting the embers of pleasure within you. you let out a blissful sigh, enjoying the lazy rhythm you've fallen into. “it was...more than perfect,” you agree, a smile curving your lips despite the exhaustion settling in. the tender affection mixed with the lingering heat of your lovemaking leaves you feeling cherished and utterly fulfilled.

as the minutes stretch on, you find yourself reluctant to break away from this sweet, languid closeness. it's moments like these that make you realize just how deeply you adore your husband— in every way imaginable.

toji gazes at you adoringly, taking in the blissful expression on your face. he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch feather-light and reverent.

“i love seeing you like this,” he confesses softly, “satisfied and happy in my arms.” he pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. “i think it's time we started planning our family, don't you? we could have a few more little ones running around, keeping us busy and on our toes.”

the suggestion is made with a playful glint in his eye, but there's an underlying seriousness to his words. toji wants to build a life filled with love, passion, and children— and he intends to start that process soon. at the mention of starting a family, your heart swells with joy. the idea of carrying another child conceived in such passionate, loving circumstances fills you with excitement.

“you know i've always wanted that,” you reply, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “a house full of laughter and love...and maybe some mischief too, maybe later,”

the prospect of growing their family together stirs something deep within you. not just physical attraction, but emotional commitment— a bond forged not only between lovers but also parents-to-be. “but for now,” you continue, tracing idle patterns on his chest, “let's just enjoy this moment. our private paradise.”

hearing your agreement, toji smirks, his eyes sparkling with delight. he captures your wandering hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“a private paradise sounds ideal,” he agrees, nipping gently at your fingertips, “but i suppose we should get moving eventually.” despite his words, there's no urgency in his tone. Instead, he seems content to simply stay here with you— lost in each other's company until reality comes knocking.

“but first,” he adds, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest, “i need to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied.”

a soft chuckle escapes your lips at his declaration. the idea of being thoroughly satisfied by your husband is quite appealing indeed. “oh, i think i am,” you purr, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate the residual ache left by their earlier activities, “but if you insist...“

you arch your back slightly, pressing even harder against him. the sensation of his semi-hard member still nestled inside you sends delightful sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. “just one more round?” you tease, batting your eyelashes playfully.

toji's smirk widens at your teasing words, his dark eyes gleaming with lustful intent. he rolls you onto your back, positioning himself above you with a predatory grace.

“one more round it is then,” he declares, beginning to move again, leaning closer to kiss your forehead. his renewed thrusts are slow and deliberate, designed to draw out every last drop of pleasure from both of you.

each stroke sends jolts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. the combination of his weight pressing down on you and the steady rhythm of his hips driving into yours creates an intoxicating blend of sensations.

“and when we're done,” he promises huskily, “we'll start planning our future...together.”

[partiallysame]

Ghost Gets No Bitches Part 2:

second part to THIS

Word count 1400

Content warning: suggestive, alcohol

When ghost finally texted you the message was something along the lines of: 

Hello. This is the man from (insert specific grocery store name followed by the exact address of said grocery store). 

You: Do I get to know your name or am I just supposed to call you Man From Grocery Store?

Ghost: Simon

Wow ok not a talker but we can work through that. Simon knew he should take you to a proper dinner but you made him so anxious he needed somewhere safe. Comfortable. Ah yes the closest bar to his base that he goes to almost daily. When you agreed to the date the panic really set in. He’s gonna be alone with you again (he ran to Price to ask for help on what to do. “You can’t wear the fucking mask” “but why?”)

The second Ghost got out of his car he noticed Soap had followed him to the bar (how could he not, Ghost had been sweating all day about meeting his lil lass again) “you walk in that bar and I’ll put a bullet in you, Mohawk”

“Aye come on. Jus wanna see a little more of the pretty bird that’s got ya all nervous”

 Soap knew he was bluffing about shooting him until Ghost pulled up his shirt enough to show his gun and the silencer attached to it. Yup ok he really would shoot him. Suddenly Soap is back in his car.

And then there you were, picture of perfection walking towards him. Big smile and small dress oh he was fucked. He opened the door for you and you let out a “good boy” as you walked through, an audible gulp came from him. Making your way to the bar to order, you told the bartender your drink, turning to ask Simon what he wanted only to find him standing 4 feet from you, scared to get too close. “Come here.” A command. One giant step and he was by your side. You moved closer until your shoulder was touching him. Control your breathing Ghost. “What do you want big boy?” You looked up at him and he should be embarrassed that you just called him that in front of his favorite bartender but he is definitely not. He said the beer he wanted and you added “two please. He’s nervous” the bartender was trying not to laugh.

“Tab Open or closed?” The bartender asked to which you quickly said open and began sliding your card over. 

“No.” Simon’s voice was deep and gravely and his sudden outburst caught you off guard. He may let you walk all over him but there was no way he, a gentleman would let you pay. 

You turned to him, eyebrows raised, “did you just tell me no?” Voice laced with genuine surprise and his eyes got wide, fuck was he in trouble? He nodded too afraid of how to properly respond but he continued to hand his card over and return yours to you. 

“You only get to tell me that once and that was it.” You scolded him as the barkeep slid the drinks over to you. You grabbed his two beers, one in each hand to hand to your date. He nodded again in response but did not miss the way your eyes were glued to his giant hands when he easily held the two bottles in one hand. 

Making your way over to a booth to sit, someone bumped into you, slightly spilling your drink down your hand. The man kept walking until a large (big sexy) hand grabbed his shoulder. Terrified apologies stumbled from his lips at the sight of Simon. But your hand quickly found its way onto Simon’s chest. 

“It’s not a big deal. Right Simon?” He looked down at you just in time to see you put your fingers in your mouth sucking the spilled drink from them. Christ’s sake woman. Your hand on his chest could feel his racing heart beat. 

“Not a big deal mate.” He let go of (pushed) the man as he watched you finish the walk to the table you wanted. He followed but when he got to the table he just stood there so awkwardly. 

“Simon, sit down. This is a date you know.” He’s sat. You decided that if he wasn’t going to talk then you wouldn’t either. You just sat there watching this giant muscle man fidget in his seat, emotional support beer being held so tightly in front of him. Your eyes taking in all of his features, pretty blue eyes and chiseled facial features. After however many minutes of silence (Simon squirming) you decided it was time for billiards. This is a bar after all. 

“Let’s go play” your head nodding to the empty pool table. The sudden sound of your voice made him jump. For goodness sakes man chill. He downed his second beer as he stood beginning to relax slightly. The bar was starting to get crowded so you reached for his hand before making your way to the table, pulling him behind you. You’re touching him. Fuck your hands are so soft, small compared to his. How would they look holding his…  A small and disappointed “oh” came from your lips as you neared the table. A group of men had gotten to it first but with a quick clear of his throat and deadly stare from Simon they gently handed you the cue ball. You turned to face him and god you were so close to him. He thought you holding his hand was bad? Now your chest is touching his. 

“Ready to lose?” You questioned batting your lashes at him, watching his pupils dilate. 

“I was gonna ask you the same.” You bit your lip at his response, excited to finally get somewhere with this man. There was a stare down for a few moments before you turned to begin the game. 

Were you bad at pool? No. Were you good? Also no. But Simon? Never missed a shot. No no this won’t do. Quickly realizing that you are losing (you only got one turn) you changed the game. Now you’re just standing at the edge of the table, looking pretty, moving the balls around with your hands, demanding trick shots. 

“Orange here to here then this pocket.” Hands pointing around before being placed palms down on the table, cleavage exposed and Simon can’t breathe. He does it and you praise him with another “good boy.” Two more planned shots and now you’re curling your finger, beckoning him closer. 

“8 ball. Corner pocket.” Simon begins to bend to line up his shot when you move so you are sandwiched between him and the table. Breathe Simon breathe. “Go on handsome.” Fuck ok he can do this. His large body easily envelopes yours, slowly bending at the waist and you are pushed down slightly, his chest pressed against your back. Your ass pressed exactly where you want it. Simon’s arms wrap around you to place his hand under the stick to steady it. You wiggled your ass back against his crotch and you could hear him stifle a groan. You can tell he’s trying to focus on the task at hand, but let's make it more fun. You turn your head until your lips are brushing against his jaw, sliding their way up to his ear and the whine that escapes this man at the contact. His hands glued to where they were placed on the table, too scared to move them where he actually wanted them.

“If you make this, you’ll get a reward.” You pressed your body into him more, feeling what was starting to form in his pants and you could feel the vibrations in his chest from a suppressed growl. “But.” you paused for a moment and he thought he was going to break the pool stick from holding on so hard. “But if you miss, your friend from the parking lot is allowed to come play too next time. So whats it gonna be?” You removed your lips from his ear, signalling him to take the shot. A breathy and accidental “fuck me” came from him as he lined up his shot. There was no way he was going to miss this, but when you added “thats the plan” after his last comment he missed the ball all together, pool cue scratching the green fabric on the table. He stood quickly cursing every god there ever was as you spun in his arms now face to face. Your arms reached up to wrap themselves around his neck. “What was his name again?”

Part 2.5 Part 3

[charmedimsure]

Hello! Can I order a Dae Ho one-shot? about the reader who comes to the game pregnant and meets Dae Ho there and they have some kind of connection and he tells her that when they get out of there he would like to be with her and the baby.

thank you and happy new year <3

*slams bell* ORDER UP! (im sorry that was so cringey)

THE THREE OF US || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Trying to make it out of the games with both you and your baby's lives, you meet a man who is determined to help.

word count: 6.3k (i did not expect it to be this long thats what she said)

warnings: pregnancy, guns, death, blood, squid game stuff

A/N: i love jun-hee, but the reader replaces her in this fic. reader has no connection to myung-gi (333). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 2: After the Games

The second game is about to start, and time is running out for you to find a team. You've approached a few groups, but have been turned away by all of them. Turns out most groups don't want women on their team.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the man who had won these games before, along with the man who beat up those other players the day before. Figuring you might as well take a shot, you approach them.

Just as you get to them, a handsome man comes running over, pulling a player along behind him. "Sir! I got someone! He'll definitely risk his life to win."

The man he brought salutes the others. "Victory at all costs!"

The shorter man in the group, player 390, smiles and salutes back. "Hey, were you in the Marines?"

"Class 946, sir!"

Player 390 laughs. "Boy, with three ex-Marines, we'll be invincible." He turns to players 001 and 456. "What do you think? I like him."

Great, you think to yourself. Now they get to pick between an ex-Marine and a woman who can barely stand for more than 20 minutes at a time. Still though, this is a good team, and you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

"Excuse me," you say, getting the group's attention. "Please let me join your team."

Player 390 speaks up. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

Fuck it. Time to pull out the big guns.

"Please help me," you plead, leaning back a bit and putting your hand up to your swollen belly. "I'm pregnant."

All five men grow silent as they look down to your stomach.

<>

"Time for team selection is up."

You can feel the stares of your new team on you as the second game is announced. You just look forward, trying to listen to voice.

"The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each player will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini games. Number one, Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

Player 390 turns to his friend. "It's good that we got a woman." He turns to you. "You can play Gong-gi, right?"

You give him a sorry look as you shake your head.

His smile falters. "Don't girls play Gong-gi anymore?"

You look down at the sand. "I've played it, but I was never good at it."

You can see the disappointment on his face as he nods.

Player 388 takes a deep breath as he turns toward 390. "Actually, I can play Gong-gi."

390 gives him a confused look. "You? And ex-Marine?"

You give 390 a weird look. Is it really that hard to believe that a military man has played a kid's game before?

388 gets embarrassed. "I grew up with four older sisters. I used to play it with them from time to time."

You smile, thinking it's sweet that he used to play games with his sisters.

390 claps him on the back. "That's right. There's nothing a Marine can't do."

Player 456 leans forward to look at all of you. "Everyone else, what game are you confident playing?"

You take a deep breath. Jegi was the game you were best at growing up, but you don't think you'll be able to play it in your condition. You lean forward as well. "I can play Ddakji. At the subway station I flipped the guy's on my first try."

390 nods. "Okay. Miss 222, you can play Ddakji. I'll play Flying Stone. I was a pitcher for my baseball team. I'm good at throwing."

As 456 and 001 decide who will play Jegi and who will play Spinning Top, 388 turns to you.

"Did you really beat him on the first try? It took me at least eight."

You breathe out a laugh and give him a small smile. "Yeah. I probably could have paid off my debt if he had let us keep playing." Your smile falters as you rest your hand on your swollen stomach. "It would have been safer for the baby."

388 frowns sympathetically and scoots a bit towards you. "We will get out of here. And after that, we will go home. You and your baby will be safe."

Although you don't completely believe him, you still give him a smile and thank him for his kind words.

You feel movement in your stomach and let out a small yelp at the unexpected feeling, looking down towards your hand.

"Are you alright? What happened?" 388 asks, concern clear on his face.

With a smile, you lift your head to look at him and the others who have directed their attention to you. "I felt the baby kick."

Player 388 breaks out into a smile as he looks to your belly, seemingly fascinated by what is happening inside of you.

Player 001 lets out a loud laugh. "The baby wants to play Jegi."

You let out a chuckle as the men laugh. You made a good choice asking these players for help.

"All right guys, bring your hands together," 390 says, sticking his hand out in front of him. "All together now."

You need to scoot over a bit, but you put your hand on the pile on top of 388's, who gives you a shy smile.

"On three, we go, 'Victory at all costs.' One, two, three..."

"Victory at all costs!"

<>

The walls open and forklifts are brought in holding boxes with pink bows on top. You watch as the bodies of both teams are separated from each other and placed into each box. One team had made it past the fourth mini-game, while the other had only just finished the second. Both teams were executed.

The bodies are eventually cleared out, but the blood remains on the track. The second team lines up and you recognize the sweet old lady who had given you her egg this morning, as well as her son. Shit, you really hope they make it.

The gun fires and they're off. The first girl, player 095, looks so nervous I'm worried she won't be able to throw the Ddakji. Her first three attempts fail, and she looks as though she won't be able to continue. Player 120 whispers something to her and she nods. She picks up the Ddakji, turns in over in her hand, and smacks it to the floor. Success.

The group celebrates as they move on, and you make a mental note of that little trick for when it's your turn.

Next is player 007, the son. He throws the stone and misses. Instead of panicking like the past groups, they quickly grab the stone and move backwards to the line, saving lots of time. As 007 is preparing to throw the stone again, his mother whispers something to him. A look of anger washes over his face.

"That asshole ruined my fucking life!"

A perfect hit. The entire crowd cheers as they advance to the next mini-game. You smile to yourself. They can do this.

Next is the mother playing Gong-gi. She drops her first two tries. You're guessing it must be at least a few decades since she last played.

"Old hag! What are you doi-"

Player 120 puts her hand over player 044's mouth to shut her up.

You watch as 007 speaks to his mother. With a new look of determination in her eyes, she blasts through Gong-gi until she needs to make the final catch. You and player 388 sit on your heels to get a better look. Her son speaks to her again, and face turns to one of rage.

"Rotten bitch!"

All five pieces end up in her hand.

"She did it!" Player 390 says, getting to his feet, 388 following after him. You try to get up but fall back as you lose your balance. Player 388 notices and holds your arms to help you up, keeping a hand on your back to keep you steady as you stand to watch the next game.

044 fumbles the top as she's wrapping it, but quickly retrieves it and tries again. She fumbles a few more times before stopping. Her team freaks out as she stands there mumbling to herself.

A gasp rings out through the crowd as 120 slaps 044 twice, picking up the fallen top and pointing it threateningly at 044's eye.

"Oh shit," you say under your breath.

Player 044 wipes away the blood streaming from her nose and tries again the wrap the string around the top. She gets it on her first throw and the crowd screams in joy as they move to the next one. Everyone is standing now to watch, chanting along to each step.

Player 120 is handed the Jegi and requests that everyone turns around. Not wanting to mess them up, everyone turns without hesitation. The room is silent besides the sound of the Jegi hitting 120's shoes.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

It's done! They did it!

The rooms bursts into screams as the team crosses the finish line at the last second. You turn and hug 388 in pure joy as he jumps up and down. He quickly pulls away so he doesn't do anything to harm the baby, but keeps his arm around you as he celebrates with 390.

The teams keep going, with everyone celebrating the wins and wincing at the gunfire until it is finally your turn.

As you walk to the starting position, a hand gently grabs your wrist and you turn to see player 388. "Make sure to be careful. Take it easy and don't strain yourself."

You nod with a small smile and thank him, taking your spot in the outer ring of the small track. You take deep breaths as the harnesses are secured around your ankles.

"It's a little sad that we have no audience, isn't it?" 390 says, worry in his voice. He nudges 388. "Hey, are you scared?"

"No sir!" 388 yells, making you jump a bit as you were not expecting it. "It's quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching."

390 looks towards the other team. "Hey guys! We'll see you again at the finish line! Victory at all costs!"

The other team yells back their thanks and support before the pistol is fired and you're off.

When you approach the first mini-game, you take the blue tile and turn it over in your hand to match 095's. Throwing it hard at the floor, you yell in delight as the red tile flips over.

You move on to the next game, holding your stomach as you walk.

As 390 takes the stone, 388 yells out "Let's get this done the first time! I believe in you!"

"When I played baseball, my pitches might have been slow, but I had excellent ball control." You watch as the stones collide and yell out in victory as you move to the next one.

388 takes the Gong-gi pieces and you all crouch down.

390 faces him. "Dae-ho, stay calm. Even if you mess up..."

Player 388, or Dae-ho, puts his finger over his mouth to shush him before facing the board, rolling his wrist a few times and dropping the pieces. As quickly as he can, Dae-ho flawlessly gets through the game and catches all five pieces. You and your team members look at each other in awe of what you just watched. It seems that even Dae-ho can't believe he did it.

He lets out a scream as the guard confirms that he passed.

"That was amazing!" Player 390 yells. "Dae-ho, my boy!"

As you move to the fourth mini game, Player 390 looks down at you. "You're expecting, so be careful."

You nod but try to keep your pace, leaning on the small green table once you get to where you need to be.

As player 001 wraps the string around the top, Dae-ho bounces excitedly. "We might get through everything on the first attempt!"

Player 001 throws the top and it falls lazily to the floor as you all frown.

"It's okay, we have enough time," 456 says. "Let's go pick it up. Ready, go."

You all move forward together to grab the top. "No fun passing everything without a hitch," 390 says.

"That's right," 388 confirms. "You can't grow without failure, right?"

You guess he's right, but it would've been nice to pass everything easily. At least you still have three minutes left.

001 grabs the top and you move back to your spots. On his next throw you watch helplessly as the top flies behind your group. You would have laughed in any other situation.

Player 001 apologizes and you move back to grab the top, with 001 taking his sweet time to pick it up. To save time, he tries wrapping it as you walk forward again, but he breaks out of the arm link in frustration. This time he throws it as soon as it is wrapped. It doesn't spin, but at least it lands directly in front of him so you don't have to move again.

Player 456 picks up the top as 001 sighs in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He screams and you gasp when he starts slapping himself and calling himself an idiot.

456 takes his arms to stop him. "Try to remember the times when you had fun playing this."

001 nods and takes the top and string again. You take the time to look at the clock and feel a wave of worry wash over you when you see that you have less than a minute left. This time, 001 throws the top with his left hand and it spins perfectly on its axle.

You yell in joy as you quickly links arms again and move to the last game. Player 390 checks on you again as you move, and you just wave him off. The stress can't be good for the baby, but it's definitely not as bad as a bullet.

456 grabs the jegi and moves the pink soldier out of the way. He throws it up.

One hit. Two hits. Three hits. Four hits...

You watch in horror as the jegi flies in front of 456. Quickly, 001 kicks his foot out, making you all almost fall as the jegi lands on top of 456's left foot.

"Pass."

You all yell out victoriously and quickly move, crossing the finish line with a second to spare.

As you're all hugging each other, you flinch at the sounds of gunshots coming from the other side of the room. The other team didn't make it.

The main room is oddly quiet as you walk in. As happy as everyone was to see people pass while watching the games, they don't seem to be very happy about it now. Player 390 next to you waves at someone, and you look in the direction to see the woman and her son.

"That sweet old lady," he says with a smile. "I miss my mom."

You smile at the lady and bow your head to her as she gives you a big smile and two thumbs up.

As you sit down to rest and wait for the pink soldiers, 001 speaks up. "I'm sorry about earlier, everyone."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made the last kick," 456 says and you nod.

001 looks at you. "Player 222, are you feeling alright?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you all for letting me be on your team."

Dae-ho smiles shyly and nods.

"She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try, that was impressive," 390 says, making you smile at the praise. "She did great, even while carrying a baby. We were lucky she joined our team."

Dae-ho nods. "What about your Flying Stone play? You hit it with one shot! With an underhand pitch at that! Bam!" You let out a small laugh as he reenacts 390's throw. "You were like Kim Byung-hyun."

"And you?" 390 says. "Was Gong-gi the only game you ever played?" He quickly moves his hand around to imitate Dae-ho. "I could barely see your hand. It was like a martial arts movie."

Dae-ho laughs. "I'm the only son for two generations. My mom only let me play at home with my sisters."

"And yet they let their precious son join the Marines?" 390 questions.

Dae-ho hesitates. "My father's idea, he wanted me to be more of a man. He fought in the Vietnam War, you see."

"He sounds like a great man," 390 says and Dae-ho nods. "Was he a Marine, too?"

You can see the discomfort on Dae-ho's face and he quickly excuses himself from answering the question, instead standing up to face everyone. "Listen. Perhaps we should learn each other's names. I still don't know your names, gentlemen." He smiles a bit more when he looks to you. "Or your's, Miss. I'll start. I'm Kang Dae-ho. 'Dae' means 'big', 'ho' means 'tiger'."

"'Big tiger.' Cool name," 390 says. "My name is Park Jung-bae. 'Righteous' and 'twice'. My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous."

You go next, stating your name for the group. "I don't know what it means, though."

001 says your name, getting your attention. "When you get out of here, go see a doctor right away. You've been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out."

You nod. "Okay."

"I'm Oh Young-il," 001 says. He points out how it sounds like his number and the group laughs at the coincidence. Young-il turns to 456. "Oh, Gi-hun, what's your last name?"

"My name is Seong Gi-hun," Gi-hun says.

"'Seong' literally means 'last name'," Young-il laughs aloud by himself.

A loud buzz is heard and the guards enter the room. After revealing the results of the game and announcing the next vote, your team turns to each other.

You look down at the red X on your track suit, and look up to see the blue 'O' on Dae-ho's. He sees your gaze and frowns down at his patch.

"I'm telling you, we'll get out this time," he says to the team, though he is mainly looking at you. He looks down at his patch again and curses under his breath. "A Marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." He puts a hand on Jung-bae's shoulder. "Isn't that right, brother?"

"Yeah, you're right," Jung-bae says weakly. "Marines aren't invincible. We should get out." Despite saying this, the look on his face and the nervousness in his tone contradict his words.

"We have to end the games here," Gi-hun says. He turns to look at you. "I will help you guys when we get out. Please trust me and support this vote."

You smile and nod in thanks.

"Guys, all huddle up again," Dae-ho smiles as he sticks out his hand.

"Victory at all costs."

<>

You frown as the buzzer goes off one last time. There had been some... complications during the voting. This lead to the final vote being 116 for X and 139 for O. Standing next to Dae-ho, you don't miss the look of betrayal on his face as he looks over to Jung-bae with the blue patch on his chest.

Dae-ho lets out a loud sigh as you eat your bread. "Brother! Brother Jung-bae!"

You can see Jung-bae tense up from his spot behind the beds.

With a sigh, Dae-ho stands up and approaches the man. "Hey, just come back here."

"No, I'm good here," you hear Jung-bae answer. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on." Dae-ho grabs Jung-bae and drags him to face the group.

He stops and stares at you all before speaking. "I'm sorry. I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I'll be able to settle my debt."

"Jung-bae," Young-il addresses the man sadly. "You of all people shouldn't have done it. It's not twice as righteous." He sighs before continuing. "But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted."

Jung-bae jumps at this. "Right? It's not entirely my fault."

"Alright," Dae-ho steps up. "To be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn't enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game."

Jung-bae hugs the man. "You did?"

Dae-ho pushes him away. "I said I get it."

The shorter man turns back to the group. "Thank you for understanding. But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn't we? If we stick together one more time, I'm sure we'll be fine." He turns to you. "I'll make sure we survive the next game-"

"'The next game'?" Gi-hun cuts him off. "In the next game, we might have to kill each other."

There is silence before Young-il speaks up. "Gi-hun, that's a bit much. There's nothing we can do now, so let's try to stay positive. We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again." He picks up his milk and hands it to you. "Here, you can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game."

You shake your head. "No, that's okay."

"Take it. I don't drink plain milk."

You thank him as you take the milk.

Jung-bae takes the bread out of his pocket. "Have my bread, too. I don't deserve to eat."

You smile as you take it. You have been feeling hungry and one piece of bread would definitely not be enough for you, so you're grateful for the men around you.

"I'll take your milk then," Dae-ho says to Jung-bae.

Before you can stop yourself, a loud laugh escapes from your mouth. The others smile before laughing along as well. You look over to Dae-ho to see a blush covering his face as he smiles.

<>

"Pass it to me."

The guys hand each other mattresses as they move them to under the beds. You had been put in charge of collecting blankets and pillows so you wouldn't strain yourself.

"Is this really necessary?" Jung-bae asks. "I don't like sleeping under there."

"Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us," Gi-hun says as he pushes another mattress under a bed frame.

"What?" Dae-ho asks. "Who?"

"The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It's part of the game they designed."

"Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting here," Young-il says. "Even if that were true, people wouldn't do that."

Gi-hun turns to face him. "In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here. You have no idea how people can change in this place."

Young-il apologizes and you hand the blankets in your arms to Jung-bae.

"We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out," Gi-hun says. "I'll take the first, you should decide the order for the rest."

The order decided was that Jung-bae would take over after Gi-hun, then Dae-ho, then Young-il would be last. You tried to volunteer to keep watch but they immediately shot you down, saying you needed the rest more than them.

<>

After a trip to the bathroom with players 149 and 120, whose names you still did not know, you come back to find Dae-ho keeping watch. You try to quickly wipe the tear stains from your cheeks as you walk back to the makeshift shelter. You give a quick nod to Dae-ho before trying to move past him, but he calls out your name, making you stop and turn to look at him.

He looks up at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You put on a smile and nod. "Yes, I'm fine." As you try to walk away you feel his hand gently grab your wrist to stop you.

"No you're not," he says. You sigh, upset that you've been caught. He moves to the side to give you space and you sit next to him, figuring you're not gonna get out of this. "What happened? Was it the baby?"

You shake your head, feeling tears start to well up again. "It's everything." You put your head in your hands. "I never should have played Ddakji with that guy, I never should have called the number, I should have just stayed at home and prepared for the baby."

Dae-ho gently rubs your back as you cry into your sleeves. Even though you really only just met, he feels connected to you. Maybe it's just because you survived the second game together, but he cares for you and doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. He was stunned when you had walked up to the group before the game and asked to join, immediately regretting picking anyone besides the beautiful stranger that was standing in front of him.

"What about your husband?" Dae-ho asks. "Does he know that you're here?"

You shake your head. "I don't have a husband. I don't even have a boyfriend. It's just me and the baby." You turn to look at him and although he's too kind to ask you how you got knocked up, you can see the question all over his face. "My ex-boyfriend is the reason I got into so much debt. He made a lot of bad investments and when he ran out of his own money, he started using mine. When I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out and left. Didn't even say anything, his stuff was just all gone one day."

Dae-ho feels himself getting angry at this. If he found out a man had done this with one of his sisters, he would do something to him that would probably land him in prison. It takes two people to make a baby. Just because the mother is the one that carries it doesn't mean that the father isn't responsible for the child.

"He's a fucking coward," Dae-ho says, making you snort a small laugh. "And he's an idiot to leave you."

"It's for the best, though," you say. "He wasn't a good boyfriend, I knew that even while we were dating. But he was my first love, and we all do stupid things the first time we're in love." Dae-ho nods, watching as you bring your hand to rest on your stomach. "I only wish that my child would have a father in their life."

"They will have an amazing mother, though," he says, making you smile.

"I hope so," you rub your swollen belly. "Hey, Dae-ho, can I ask you something?"

Dae-ho nods, looking at you with intrigue.

"Earlier you told Jung-bae that you had thought about voting to stay. Why didn't you?" You ask.

The man takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I thought of you. You and your baby. When you told us that you're pregnant, it really hit me that I'm not the only person in here, that there are other lives at risk. If you died, it wouldn't just be the end of your life. Your baby doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that."

You can't help the smile that blooms on your face at his words, as well as the small blush. "Thank you for thinking of me. You're a very sweet person, Kang Dae-ho." You watch as he gives you a shy smile, a light dusting of pink on his face. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?"

He shakes his head. "No, just me." You give him an incredulous look and he chuckles. "Dating wasn't easy while in the Marines, and I guess I just never found anyone that interested me enough after."

You let out a small laugh. "Sounds like you have high standards."

He chuckles. "I'm just waiting to find the one. They say that when you know, you know."

"That's going to be one very lucky girl," you say, watching as the blush on his face deepens. "I hope you find her soon."

"I can't explain why, but I feel like I will." He smiles down at you with a look that makes your heart skip a beat. After a few moments he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've kept you up for so long, you should get some sleep. You'll likely need your energy for tomorrow's game."

You nod, standing up. "You're right, I've been up too long." You start to move towards your mattress, but stop. "It was nice talking to you, Dae-ho."

He smiles at you. "Goodnight."

You smile back. "Goodnight."

For the rest of his watch, Dae-ho sneaks peaks at your sleeping form, a warm feeling running through him when he thinks about your words.

<>

You awake to the feeling of someone shaking you. Groggily opening your eyes, you see Dae-ho leaning over you.

"The next game is starting soon, we need to get up," he says.

You hear the classical music that has played before every game and nod, allowing him to help you get out of bed. "Nothing to start the day off like a sadistic game and fearing for your life, huh?"

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle as you make your way to the doors. He walks behind you on the stairs to make sure you don't fall, and stands right by your side as the curtains are opened to reveal the game room.

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh, this game?" Jung-bae says. "We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging."

"I played it too," you say. "But we would hold hands instead."

Together you set up a strategy. If the number is five, you'll all go together. If it's more than five, you'll grab however many people we need. If it's smaller than five, you'll break off into groups. When your strategy is done, you put your hands in the center.

"Victory at all costs."

<>

"Let the game begin."

The platform jerks as it starts rotating, and you almost lose your balance, but Dae-ho is there to grab you and steady you on your feet.

"Ten."

Everyone starts looking around like mad as they try to find ten players.

Gi-hun looks to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies. You recognize her as one of the women who came to the bathroom with you last night.

"That makes us nine!" Jung-bae says.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have ten!"

"Room 44! Green door! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

You run as fast as you can towards the door as Young-il holds it open for everyone to get inside. You feel Dae-ho's hand on the small of your back the entire way to the room. Before you get the chance to even think, the clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

Screams and gunshots can be heard from behind the door, the sad fate of those who didn't make it in time.

Dae-ho turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?"

"A bit out of breath, but I'm okay," you say, and he nods. Taking the chance to look around the room, you see that the other five is the first group that passed the pentathlon the day before.

"You're alive thanks to me!" Player 044 yells out, making you jump. She looks over everyone before stopping on you and stepping closer, making you take a step back. Dae-ho holds you close to him as the woman looks down at your stomach. She then looks up at Dae-ho and gives him a knowing smirk before leaving to speak to Gi-hun.

You look up at Dae-ho, who is still holding you to his chest. He watches the woman walk away before look down at you, your faces so close that your noses are only a few inches apart.

Once the bodies are removed from the playing area, you're let out of the room and make your way back to the center platform. The next round is four people to a room, and Young-il goes off on his own to find three more as the rest of you run to a room with a purple door.

Once you're let out, Dae-ho and Jung-bae yell for Young-il before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see Young-il jogging up to your group.

"I knew you were going to be okay!" Jung-bae smiles as he pulls Young-il in for a hug. "I knew it. You're not just anybody."

"I was worried," Gi-hun says. "I'm glad you made it."

Young-il smiles. "I'm a likable guy, so I'm good at games like this." He turns to you. "Are you feeling alright?"

You nod with a smile. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm glad you're back."

Young-il gives you a smile, but his face turns serious. "Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is six, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

"Why not?" Dae-ho asks.

After a moment, Jung-bae laughs. "Oh, in her tummy?"

Dae-ho lets out a loud laugh. "Right, that makes six."

You smile as they joke around, looking down to your swollen belly.

The next round is three, so you, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae run to a room with an orange door. With every round, you can feel yourself growing more and more tired, and your feet are begging for relief from so much standing and moving.

Once you get out of the green room with Dae-ho and players 120, 095, 007, and 149 (you make a mental note to ask for their names once you're back in the main room), you feel exhausted. As you step onto the platform, Dae-ho grabs your arm to support you.

"Now, the final round will begin."

The platform begins to rotate and you lean on Dae-ho to keep yourself upright.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae leans forward to ask Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

"Are you alright?" Dae-ho asks you, concern on his face.

You shake your head. "I don't think I can run anymore."

The platform stops and the lighting dims.

"Two."

Before you can tell what's happening, you are lifted off the ground. You hold on tightly to Dae-ho as he sprints to the nearest door with you in his arms. Once inside, he places you on the ground and moves toward the door, pushing his weight against it to keep anyone else from getting in and pushing you out.

You keep your gaze on the man. He saved your life. He saved your baby's life. Without hesitation. Hell, he even voted to leave for you yesterday. This man who only came into your life a day ago has shown you more unwavering loyalty than anyone else has before.

Then the realization dawns on you: you don't want to do this without him. You don't want anything to happen to him. You want to protect him, just as he is protecting you. Not just in the games, but always.

The lock on the door clicks into place and screams are heard from the other side of the door. Once the screams finish, Dae-ho kneels beside you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, still in awe of the man in front of you. You examine his face and a surge of confidence rushes through you.

"Can I do something really stupid?"

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "What?"

You grab his zip-up and pull him to you, planting your lips against his. You feel him stiffen and worry that you've made a terrible mistake, but before you can pull away, you feel one of his hands slide into your hair as the other moves to cup your cheek.

For a perfect moment, you're not in this crazy place. There's no debt, there's no death, there's no fear. There's just you and Dae-ho.

You pull away first but Dae-ho chases your lips, giving you a peck before resting his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath.

"I promise you that I am going to get us out of here," he whispers to you. You feel his hand move down to your stomach. "The three of us. If you'll let me."

You gasp at his words, tears forming in your eyes as you nod. This time, you believe him. Dae-ho pulls you in for another kiss and you smile against his mouth, feeling him smile as well.

The sound of the door unlocking gains your attention and Dae-ho pulls away. Voices can be heard beyond the door.

Dae-ho stands up and holds out his hands for you to take, helping you to your feet. He wipes the stray tears from your cheeks and plants a kiss on your forehead before lacing your fingers together and leading you out of the room.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck

Lmk if you want to be added to the Dae-ho taglist!

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

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It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 

“So you’re in need of company?” 

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Cherry spritzer.” 

“Can I buy you another one?” 

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Just this.” 

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 

“Nowhere.” 

“So where have you been?” 

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 

“You okay?” a voice asks. 

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 

“I know, I’m  sorry.” 

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’ll leave soon.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 

“Just while I was waiting for you.” 

“What do you do?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Like, statistics?” 

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 

“And you’re good at it.” 

“I’m good at math, yeah.” 

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 

“Me too.” 

“And you’re okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 

For a pause, you just sit. 

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 

”Really?” 

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 

“We might have to stand very close.” 

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 

— 

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 

“You wanna share?” 

“Yes!” 

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 

“You know what shampoo I use?” 

“I deduced it.” 

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 

“You distract me, too.” 

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.” 

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 

“I like you too,” he laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Not just…” 

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 

“Should we go out, then?” 

“We do.” 

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 

“And if I don’t?” he asks. 

“Then we get married in Vegas.” 

“You could meet my mom.” 

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 

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