#so i think framing it like this is just a reminder of what the speaking/thinking about myself really is

[first-edition]

Apologize

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader smut

sum- Daryl yells at you making a big deal of you going outside the walls by yourself after just getting you back after everything and insults you, but he didn’t mean it and wants to prove it to you. cw- set in early season 5 in Alexandria, SMUT 18+ THEMES AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI, read at your own discretion, pin v, unprotected, biting, marking, confession, fluff angst, oral (f) reciving, clit play.

“Hey..” you turn around seeing Daryl leaning against the frame of your door. 

“hi..” you say. 

Earlier that day Daryl was real to you. You have gone out for a run and brought back three horses that had escaped. But that's not what bothered him, not you being cheered on, or praised…that you went alone without telling everyone and when you came back it was more than a relief for daryl. Almost losing you before then. 

“YOU DONT THINK BECUASE YOUR FUCK’N STUPID! DADDIES LITTLE GIRL GREW UP WITH EVERYTHING SHE COULD EVER WANT!” He yells at you to push him back from you he hobbles back. 

“I DID THIS! FOR YOU! FOR CAROL! EVERYONE! I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!” you yell back. He shoots an arrow at you, it zips past your head and sticks into the post of the house. You stop. Staring at him. 

“It ain't walkers i'm worried about! It's other people!” he huffs. 

“Maybe it's just you!” you spit back instead of pulling the arrow out your break it in half and throw the half to him before storming off back to your house. It's a bit awkward leaving him there in front of everyone but that's the price you pay. Later that day Carol went up to Daryl asking him why he yelled at you. 

“She's stupid.” he says to her as he throws on a new shirt

“No she's not.” Carol says sitting on the bedside. 

“She's very smart. She saved us before everything she saved you..” she trails off he sighs leaning against the dresser. 

“Yeah..” he looks down. 

“She got us those horses by herself..they are big horses. Alexandria is safe daryl..she's safe." Carol says. 

“Yeah not safe enough if I couldn't stop what happened to her..the governor, the prison..the hospital.” he says. 

“That wasn't your fault.” she says. 

Dayrl signs shaking his head no. knowing it wasn't but still blames himself. 

“I-i couldn't save beth..barley her.” he says carol stands to him walking up to him tilting her head to the side. 

“You like her..i know that you like her alot..” carol leads. 

“But you only feel like shit for something out of your control when you love them..” she ends up looking at daryl. He avoids her eye contact. 

“I didn't mean those things I said to her,” he replies. Carol nods to him. 

“I know.. But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You're gonna lose her if you don't.” she says. Before she can reach out and place a hand on her shoulder he rubs his bow and vest and walks out of the room then the house down the street about two houses over to you. He stops at the porch knowing he more than welcome in as carol also stays in the home with you. 

He sucks it up and walks up the porch and onto the home he walks up the stairs knowing you're most likely in your room. The door is closed but a small knock from his knuckles hitting the wood is all he needs as permission to open the door. 

“It's open.” your voice says expecting carol so your sweet demeanor sounds through. Dayrl opens the door, seeing you sitting by the window. He sighs leaning against the frame. You spot him, your demeanor changing as you look at him. He sets his cross bow down on the side. 

“Hey..” he speaks. 

“Hi..” you answer back. 

It's quiet for a few seconds before Daryl speaks.

“Sorry..for what i said to ya… callin you stupid, and all you aint stupid.” he says his eyes flicking away from you. You look away from him. He picks up his bow and walks into the room closing the door and letting the bow re-rest on the wall. 

“When i couldn't find you this morning…just..reminded me of everythin’ else you know…losing the prison, beth. And then i thought of back when the governor took you glenn and maggie, i-...” his voice breaks as he cuts himself off looking down his fingers twitching in anxiety. 

“I just..i can't do that you know..i lost merle i can't be losing you too.” he says you look up to him. 

“I named the horse after you..” you say he frowns in confusion. 

“What I used to call you, squirrel.” you say he chuckles nodding. You get up from your spot walking up to him. 

“I love you..y/n...i cant be losing something like that.” he says 

“Merle would always tell me not to get attached to things but i could never really help-” you cut him off wrapping your arms around him  pressing your lips to him. You've always known Daryl crushed on you, the way he does things for you, purposely looking for things you'd like. And you liked him too.

His arms wrap around you kissing you back deeply. You don't break it until you need to speak back to him. But you don't get to speak before his lips are firmly back on yours. You pull off his vest and his hands move under your shirt. The rough skin against your bare torso sends a shiver up your body.

He pulls you until his arms lifting you with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist holding onto him as he pulls off your shirt before laying you back onto the bed. He pulls off his shirt. You sit up connecting your lips again. Bringing him down to you. His weight against you is more arousing than anything. The way his hands feel up the sides of you wanting more contact. His kisses move down to your neck as he nips and sucks. 

Making sure to keep you marked, even going as far as pulling back to make sure there's marks. Something for people to ask about, something he can watch you blush about when carol comes home and asks. Something for people to know who you are. 

“Fuck.” he grunts out as the buldge in his pants tightens the fabric. Your hands reaches down to him palming him through his jeans. You gasp when he pulls your hand away from him pinning both above your head as he continues to devour your skin.

“D-daryl” you gasp out as he finishes the bruises on your cleavage. He looks down to you blushing, waiting, needing. He lets go of your hands and immediately your touch is back on him, the weight of any hurt falling off his shoulders as you pull him back into you. 

You peck his lips before going for his belt, undoing it. 

“Nah..nah.” he says you look up at him confused. 

“Let me take care of you huh. After everything..just..” he trails off as you look up into his eyes, your hands resting on either side of his face comforting. You look at him seeing his eyes are welling with tears. 

“Hey..” you say softley. He doesn't answer you, just presses his lips back to yours laying you back down against the plushness of the bed. He kisses down your stomach pulling your jeans from you. The pink undies you and carol found on a spare run one day cause his cock to twitch in his pants. 

He lets his hands and fingers run along your thighs and waist feeling you under him. He kisses your thighs and legs. He worships you all over before removing your panties and diving into you. More feral than a walker he holds your thighs against his head as his tongue drives into you lickign you up. Your hand finds his hair and you grip into it. A guttural moan escapes Daryl's throat sending the vibration through your core causing you to squirm from him. 

“Ah..f-fuck..dayrl!” you gasp out as your release comes closer and closer to you. His grip on your thighs doesn't let up as he pulls you closer to his face burying himself into you.

You entangle yourself into his hair as you reach your peak, lapping up what left of your shaky state daryl sits up his lips shining with your arousal. You pant as you watch him shift taking off his belt and lowering his pants his cock springs free. The gasping is cut short when he continues to kiss up your body, his touch running along your skin. 

You sign out his name wrapping your arms around him. 

“Say it again.” he mumbles. You giggle as he adjusts himself rubbing his tip up and down your slit. 

“D-daryl.” you huff out. 

“Fuck..again.” he speaks deeply as he rubs against you. 

“Dayrl.” you moan out as he begins to enter you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he puts into you. 

He moans in your neck as your legs wrap around him. His hand presses against your thigh keeping it up around his hip. 

“Fuck..i love you…i love you so fucking much.” he huffs out. 

“Yes. ah dayrl..fuck..i love you..ah god.” you moan gripping onto him as he ruts into you. He roughly thrusts up into you making you loudly moan out and bite down against him he grunts out continuing the pace making you both louder. You just hope Carol isn't downstairs. How embarrassing. 

You grip onto him like your life depends on his as he continues for you both. You pant against him as that familiar feeling builds up. He pulls back from you staying connected, he pulls your legs up and onto his shoulders fucking you deeper. He moans and grunts and all the sound he makes causes your pussy to clench around him in your release. He brings his hand down to your core wanting more from you somehow and begins to rub your clit, easily finding it and playing you like an instrument, the music, your voice as you call out for him. Only a few more thrusts have him sending himself over the edge. He drops your legs kindly, but fast and pulls out of you he puts into his fist cumming against your tits and stomach painting you. 

He takes a moment to recover before telling you to stay. He walks to the side where a towel rests from your earlier shower and cleans you off. Not what you’d expect. He cleans you carefully and with love. Not just one swipe and done. Kissing your skin as he does. 

“Here.” He says , helping you up, you stand before him only for your knees to give you. He catches you as you go limp. You both chuckle. 

“M Sorry” he chuckles as you press your lips against his in a kiss before speaking again. 

“It's okay.” you smile brightly. He moves the covers to the side before picking you up and setting you back into the bed. He turns to put his clothes back on. 

“no..no.” you say, taking a hold of his arm. 

“Stay.. please.” you say. He nods without hesitation and gets into the bed neck to you he pulls you close to him as you rest against him his heat radiating to you the warmth spreading through your body as you snuggle into him. Almost immediately you are fast asleep out. But Daryl watches you the slow rise and fall of your chest, your sleepy face perfectly rested. Soon finding sleep himself after a few hours of watching you. 

—---

Morning comes and you wake up alone but a shirt is over your body in courtesy. You sigh and get up pushing your hair back. You look around the room remembering the chaos of last night. You pull the covers off you and get up now, able to stand however a slight shake to your legs makes you smile. You notice the towel is also gone but not his bow. It still rests on the side wall. You frown. You walk out of your room and down the hall down the stairs. 

You smell cooking as you walk into the kitchen seeing Carol setting up breakfast. 

“Morning honey.” She smiles at you. 

“Hi..” you say awkwardly as she give you ‘the smile’ 

“Dayrl come by last night?” she asks glazing at your shirt. You look down seeing Daryl's black sweater that he was wearing last night. 

“Um..y-yeah. He apologized.” you reply she nods, setting down a plate of food. 

“I know.” She smiles at you and blush creeps up against your cheeks. 

“You didn't hear, did you…” you say, pulling at the sleeve. 

“No. but I sent him over.” She says you feel a hand on your lower back and lips on your cheek. 

“Hey.” Daryl speaks as he comes into your view. He wears what he normally does and he has his bow. His hair is damp so he must have been in the shower when you woke up. 

“H-hi.” you say bashfully. 

“Stay safe, yeah?” Carol says to him knowing he's late for the morning run.

“Yeah.” he says to her before turning to you leaning into you. 

“I love you.” he says with his blue eyes looking at you. The embarrassment leaves as you smile up to him and nod. 

“I love you.” you speak back he pecks your lips before heading out the door. 

“Maybe he should move in here.” she says. You scoff, shaking your head. 

“I think Glenn and Abraham will miss him..don't you.” you say jokingly. Carol laughs and sets down her plate. 

“Come on..tell me about it.” she giggles and takes a seat you sit across from her and of course her being your best friend begins to tell her everything. 

Later that day you found out Rick and Glenn were joking about Daryl having the bite mark bruise and scratches on his back until you dropped off more weapon supplies and they saw your bruises. 

“So..” Rick asks Daryl once you leave. 

“What..” he huffs reloading a mag. 

“You two have fun?” Glenn chuckles. Dayrl shakes his head. 

“Nah man i don't kiss and tell.” he says.

“Such a gentleman.” Rick jokes 

[mossyscavern]

A promise, kept forever

_____________________

“With all that’s been said and done, we’ll earn our rightful place!”

Megatron says to his solders, every word counts as he kept his vow as leader of the decepticons. He is built for this, just as the rest of the mechs who joins the decepticons.

“Our motto for cybertron is as such, especially for new soldiers like yourself, we will have our rights. With strength of our own, strategic smarts, the undying loyalty! Respect! Power-!”

“Engon!”

Megatron heard from behind, turns around in confusion and saw his yellow framed sparkling staring up at him, with big baby blues. The most precious thing in the warlord’s life.

“… and energon!” He repeats, with a proud smile.

He had prepared this whole speech for when he became first known, but he guessed he can improvise the speech a bit, just for his sparkling.

“These are the things we shall live for. To rise up for! So remember these phrases, we’ll fight for our peace and never grow in hunger ever again!” He shouts with a raised fist, the crowd of the future decepticon warriors going wild.

With that out of the way he descends down the stairs and returns to his pride and joy, lifting his baby up from the makeshift birth. “Hello my little warrior, why the sudden change in speech?” He asks, with a raised optic ridge.

Watching his sparkling pout, his servos pushing against the warframe’s chassis, giving megatron an idea what his baby wants while said baby whines.

“Ooooh… heh, all is fair in hunger and war.” He says, shifting his hold to cradle his heir, grabbing an energon cube from his sub space and holding it carefully for the baby bot to drink. “-- m e g a t r…--.”

He smiles down at his precious sparkling, his gaze softened as his baby yawned, placing the now empty cube away, he starts rocking the infant, lulling the tiny bot into recharge, walking back to his berthroom-.

“Lord megatron.”

The warlord hears, turning away from his sparkling to Skywarp, strange.. the seekers didn’t sign up in the ranks until-… megatron looks around.

Reality catching up to the war frame. He sighs deeply while seated on his throne. “Are you alright, sir?” The black n’ purple seeker asks in concern.

“I’m fine, Skywarp… any news with the insecticons?” He told his officer, feeling a helm ache form in his processor. “Negative, didn’t bother contacting us ever since our loss.” He told him, megatron gave a tired nod.

“We must prepare for another energon harvest, has Soundwave found another source?” Megatron asks. “Yes sir.” He says simply before speaking up again.

“It’s probably not the best time to ask but… how did you know about the energon shortage?” Megatron looks up, with a raised optic ridge towards the blue seeker. “Pardon?”

“Last thundercracker checked while reading one of your old memoirs… the words you described for peace was ‘strength of our own, strategic smarts, the undying loyalty! Respect! Power! And energon.. and it was before the shortage.”

Skywarp listed off, reminding megatron to give Thundercracker a praise for his memory bank. “So I ask again, lord megatron. How did you know?”

“I didn’t, energon wasn’t supposed to be in the speech in the first place. It was an improv that I did and it just… stuck as our motto ever since.”

He says truthfully, thinking back to when he had felt the proud saying that word, he smiled at the memory. ‘It was thanks to my sparkling that day.’ He thought to himself. “Huh… thank you sir, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Skywarp says, running off to who knows where, shouting. “Thundercracker! you and screamer owe me 20 rust sticks, I fragging called it glitches!!”

Megatron shook his helm at that, checked the time, got up from his throne and walked to his berth room… things were never the same since.

Once there he prays to primus that his sparkling is alright and thriving, not realising…

That his youngling is closer than he thought.

_____________________

Done. Woo! New record!!

This… took a bit. I wanted to get this out of the way, mostly because I wanna do more babybee au’s but I still wanna write the heck out of parental megatron… so I’m doing both, cause yes.

I’d very much would like to keep doing these, whether they’re for comedic purposes, tragic but healing value… fluff and angst-.

… this version is where bumblebee is the lost heir, so… lost heir au anyone?

[shalom-iamcominghome]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

if i said i picked up this issue for anything but drunk erik i fear i'd be lying

(Wolverine (2020) #3)

[todayisafridaynight]

lit cannot stress how much fuckability masato lost after becoming aoki like emo death is real and its so so tragic

[real-life-cloud]

:) 🧡

[cherienymphe]

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you. 

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason. 

“You always come to pray at least three times a week���”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you. 

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation. 

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements. 

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was—am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

“I want you just as eager to get on your knees for me…”

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[eulaties]

general thoughts about the 2025 小红书 boom

i feel like we're at a really interesting point in time right now, particularly in regards to the shift in american consciousness + changing world order, so i thought it would be fitting to document my thoughts about the xhs situation as a chinese american. however, please note this post is NOT speaking on behalf of any community, and i am only speaking to my own personal opinions.

the good

american propaganda is getting dismantled in real time. there's so much cross-cultural communication right now in relation to america's political issues, everyday life, and what china is really like

im already seeing people starting to learn the language, becoming interested in visiting china, etc. and i truly haven't seen this kind of mass interest in chinese culture in a long time

to be precise, the last time there was really "chinese soft power" in america was during the mid-to-late 2000s. notably this time period included the 2008 beijing olympics which was monumental for china on the global stage, as it showcased their prosperity, openness ("北京欢迎你"), and equal footing in the modern world. ive seen people compare the xhs phenomenon to this event and while both are drastically different, i do think this is an apt comparison (though obviously this xhs thing is on a muchhh smaller scale...)

so many new friendships and connections are being made!

the bad

to add on to what op said, theres definitely a difference between just generally understanding that as diaspora, most people around you will hold sinophobic views about china and chinese people VERSUS actually having empirical evidence that most normal people didn't see chinese people as human before. its jarring to say the least. like everyone is praising chinese people on xhs now, but just last week everyone was fearmongering about us?? really reminds you that in the eyes of the public, favor for any asian culture (and by extension, its people) is fleeting and will often change easily with the season

and yes, its definitely weird to see people talk about chinese people as if they've never seen a chinese person in america before. like obviously there's a HUGE difference between mainlanders and diaspora, but there's also international students that come to america to study so... ??

the memes are funny, and i like how the people on xhs are playing along with them, but something about the "chinese spy" memes rubs me the wrong way. tbh, most mainlanders actually have a positive view of westerners and america, and if they don't study abroad themselves or know anyone that went abroad, they will never truly understand what it's like to be discriminated against simply for being chinese (there's a difference between knowing and understanding ofc; not saying that they're ignorant & don't know anything lol). this is just the honest truth, just like how i'll never understand what it's like to live and grow up in mainland china since im diaspora. anyways, i kind of question if mainlanders are actually aware of the loaded context behind those words. while americans are using the "chinese spy" memes as jokes now in reference to why tiktok is getting banned, it doesn't change the fact that many other americans truly do believe that there is mass chinese surveilliance/planted chinese spies in america (i.e., see modern-day mccarthyism, like how chinese researchers are often stripped of their titles/reputations, interrogated, and then silently deported). like language and framing does matter, and it has actually affected chinese people in america, but now you guys are treating it like a joke?

anyways, even with all of the bad there's still overwhelming good that has come out of this, and i do feel like its better to be more positive than negative about these things in the long run! who knows where tomorrow will take us but at the very least i hope everyone actively continues pissing off the american government 💖 amen

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[chiscaralight]

locker room shenanigans!

includes: nsfw! semi public sex. continuation of college athlete!gojo. you don’t need to read it but makes more sense if you do. fem!reader, knee humping, use of ‘princess’ fingering, shower sex, p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, panty thief!gojo, don’t try this at home, they’re kinda cute aren’t they. can you tell i’m emotionally constipated

the air is warm as you make your way to the field. you're never here except for when your friends drag you to rallies and matches against your will. practice was over long ago, and you can see some of the regular team members walking off towards the campus. you're not even sure where you're supposed to go exactly, but you spot a familiar head of white hair sitting in the bleachers.

gojo greets you with a boyish smile as you walk over. you're a little nervous, seeing that the last time the two of you spoke, you were admitting how badly you wanted him. but you shake off the embarrassing memory as you close the distance between you.

he's as charming as ever when he greets you, voice silky smooth as he gets up. it's almost as if he didn't have you bent in almost every way possible a few days ago; he's speaking like he's known you for ages! to be honest, you're not paying too much attention to what he's saying. he's all huffy and sweaty from practice, and the way white strands are sprawled out and glued to his forehead is reminding you so much of how good he looked above you, icy blue eyes piercing into your soul as the two of you walk towards.. where are you walking to again?

"the locker rooms, duh."

"the male locker rooms? what do you need to do in there?"

"i need to take a shower. we need to take a shower."

when you finally reach the door, a little bit of dread settles in the pit of your stomach. was satoru gojo trying to tell you that you fucking stink? what the hell is he talking about? and should you even be there? there's probably a lot of naked men in there you're sure wouldn't be happy to see you. you're both just standing off to the side waiting for god-knows-what as you shift in your spot. you finally decide to ask why you're out here if the showers are in there. but before the words are out, you're being cut off by someone pushing the door open and sprinting out.

gojo explains that college athlete!choso is usually the last person in here, which means two things. one: he's going to run all the way to his girlfriend house now, and two: the locker room is completely empty.

the steam from the room throws you off a bit as he closes the door behind you. you're eyeing everything around you; setting your bag down on one of the benches as gojo pulls his shirt off. you try not to stare, but his frame is so mouth-watering that you can't even look away before he catches you staring. your cheeks flush and you decide one of the used towels on the ground is much more interesting than whatever he's doing. he thinks it's so cute just how shy you are. have you forgotten his dick was down your throat less than a week ago already?

of course, you haven't, but that doesn't change the fact that this is so awkward for you! clearly, he's enjoying this way more than you are, because he can't even hide that shit-eating grin that takes over his lips as he makes his way over to you. his hand is guiding your chin up to look at him warily, and your eyes are closing again as his lips find yours.

your body is practically melting against his when his fingers find your waist, and he hums into your mouth. you kiss so sweetly for someone with such a sharp tongue, but hell keep the snarky remarks for when you're too fucked out to retort. gojo is pulling away way too soon, and you pout as he avoids the way you chase his lips. he's softly pushing you towards one of the lockers, pressing your back against the cool metal; in heavy contrast to the heat dancing all over your body from the room and his touch. you gasp when he slides his knee between your legs and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth, wet tongue gliding against yours as you unconsciously grind onto him.

you're trapped between a rock and a hard place. the rock being his cock, because you can feel how hard he's getting from rubbing against you. that, coupled with the fact his knee is brushing your clothed cunt just right, and you're barely able to kiss back. your broken whimpers are making him twitch in his pants hard. he really did want to take his time, maybe tease you just a little, but everything about you is just so addicting. you whine as his warmth leaves your body, but you're quickly distracted by his fingers hooking the waistband of your pants. kicking them off, you're pulling his wrist to draw him closer again.

your breath hitches as his knuckles brush against the damp spot on your panties. they're soft, pale pink and he makes a mental note to pocket them when he gets them off you later. shifting them to the side, he makes quick work of circling around your sopping entrance, never fully dipping his finger past a few millimeters and it’s driving you insane.

“stop teasing, satoru.”

“oh, we’re on first-name basis now?” and he chortles at the way you lack a response. you can barely think of what to say before he’s flipping you over, and your face is now in close contact with.. not him. he’s too close for you to shift your head to see what he’s about to do, but he answers your mental question by plunging two fingers deep into your cunt fairly quickly.

you can’t catch the moan that rips from your throat as he starts to move, and you’re already a mess from his starting pace. gojo can feel you dripping down his palm and how desperately you’re trying to pull away, but his hand is locked between your body and the locker. not like he planned to stop anyway, but he’s a little offended seeing you struggle to get out of his grip. he’s sliding another finger in as his head dips down to your ear.

“if you stop movin’ around so much, it'll be much easier for the two of us.”

“i-it’s too much-“

“none of that. you took me so well last time, i'm sure you can do it again.”

he doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s curling his fingers hard. he’s basically knuckles deep in you, and your cunt is starting to flutter hard around his digits. you’re using your free hand to grip his wrist, unable to form words as your orgasm crashes down over you. you’re going eyes are pressed shut as the waves of pleasure roll over you, and you swear the man above you is grinding against your exposed ass.

it’s his fingers pulling out of your cunt that has your eyesight returning, and you’re locking gaze with him as he slides those three fingers deep into his mouth. his mouth travels down his palm to his mid-forearm, just where your release stopped before he managed to catch up. gojo releases his mouth from his skin with a satisfying pop, and he sighs in relief while he licks his lips.

“now, you need a shower.”

one of gojo's greatest traits is how easy he is to talk to. it’s why so many people have such a good impression of him from just one conversation, and why the two of you are bantering like he didn’t just finger the shit out of you and then eat your cum before your very eyes.

you’re desperately trying to get away from him in this too-small space. he’s convinced you’re insanely ticklish from the way you react when he touches you, and what better way to check other than when you’re completely naked? the only thing saving you now is the fact that the floor is dry, otherwise you would have bashed your head into the ground trying to get out of there.

satoru is insanely offended you’re trying to escape from his grasp again, so instead he’s pulling your body flush against his just under the shower. he stretches an arm back towards the valves and you’re pressing your face into his chest to stop the water from getting into your eyes. it’s getting much warmer faster than you thought, and you’re melting in his hold once more.

he’s nudging your head away from the stream, so he can press his lips to yours. your hand trails up to the back of his head, and your fingers softly scratch his undercut. you’re coyly darting your tongue out to brush against his lip, and he parts them for you to go on. gojo is trying his hardest not to smile as you concentrate on working your tongue against his. those large hands of his are palming the fat of your ass as he pushes his own tongue into your mouth and you whine. he pays no mind to it though, continuing his actions until he’s sure you’re getting stupidly restless under his hold.

“do you trust me?”

you shake your head no. frantically.

“too bad. you’re gonna need a lot of faith in me for this.”

and he was right, you do need a lot of faith in him. because your hands are tightly holding the slim metal pipe of the shower as he raises your hips up.

this is way too risky. you could get really injured; or die! you’re not too keen on having ‘death by failed shower sex’ or your headstone, and the thought alone is enough for you to tell him to put you down.

but once his mind is made up, it’s made up. he just shushes you and tells you to close your eyes, imagine the body of the shower is his sheets! you were gripping onto those pretty hard last time, weren’t you? it’s all in your mind. you should tell him to fuck off right then and there, but his cockhead is already bullying its way into your cunt with an ease that should be illegal.

you’re putting the damn shower to shame compared to how wet you are. gojo is hissing at the warmth enveloping his cock when he finally bottoms out. honestly, he could stay like this forever, just nestled in the heat of your dizzying cunt. but he knows your arms will give out soon enough; so fuck you as best as he can for the time you can keep your body up, like a little reward.

the flow of water hitting your lower back is nothing in comparison to the way he’s pounding into your cunt. he’s holding you low and angling up, and his fat tip is painfully poking that one spongy spot that has your vision spotting. you’re almost glad you’re facing away from him because you look like a fucking mess; open mouth and cross-eyed from the sheer pleasure of it all. your noises are reverberating against the walls and you would usually be ashamed, but there’s nothing on your mind other than holding yourself up and the fat cock that’s currently stretching you out.

satoru is more than impressed, you’re lasting much longer than he thought. he’s resting his forearm against your belly so he can release his other hand and stretch up to pinch at your nipples. you’re sobbing at this point, and he’s feigning concern, asking if you’re okay. the only thing you can respond with is a broken noise. he’s content with how much that brain of yours is focused on him, so he taps your side with two fingers before speaking.

“gonna put you down real quick, okay?”

and you’re so quick to cry out a no, begging him not to stop.”

“relax, princess. just wanna switch positions. your arms hurt, don’t they?”

you don’t register the strain in your arms until after your feet hit the ground. you groan, massaging the fat of your upper arms until you’re getting hit in the face with the shower stream. you’re quickly shifting away, wiping at your eyes like a little kid.

“fuck you.”

“i’m trying.” he snorts, as he places his hands behind your knees. you place your arms on his shoulders and jump, and he mutters a there you go under his breath. you’re slightly higher than he is, but your faces are still so close. he’s fucking stunning, hooded eyes trained on your tits that he’s eye level with as he pushes up into you for the nth time today. your eyes are fluttering shut as his lips close around your nipple, and his hips start to move.

it’s hot, he’s hot, the water is hot and your entire body is on fire with bliss as he pistons in and out of you. his mouth is alternating between each of your sensitive buds, and you’re sighing in contentment at the delicious pace he’s set. he’s still finding a way to push against that sensitive spot over and over, and your orgasm is starting to brew in the pits of your belly.

gojo isn’t too far off himself, but he’s holding out, drinking up every little noise and twitch that you give him. he’s obsessed, mind solely focused on you, you, and you. you’ve been on his mind far long before he got to you that night, he’s going to enjoy every moment he has. whether it be bothering you out in public or milking your cunt on his cock, just like he’s about to do.

your fingers find his hair and pull back sharply as you smash your lips against his. your orgasm is quickly bubbling up and you’re moaning hard into his mouth when it comes. you’re barely able to kiss back, vision going white and voice cracking as you cum for the second time. your whole body is shaking, and just the feeling of you creaming around his cock is sending him over the edge, cum pouring into you in thick spurts.

you both just stay there for a bit, panting and catching your breaths until he puts you down. you grimace as his release leaks down your thigh, and he tuts in disappointment. what a waste.

it’s a comfortable silent walk out of there, different from how much you had to argue for him to give you back your underwear. which you didn’t get back by the way, you can see the edge of the pair sticking out of his pocket as he slings had bag over his broad shoulder. one of his clean shirts is hung around your neck, catching the water that’s dripping from your hair to prevent it from soaking your clothes, although you’re not too worried since the sun has mostly set and the number of students here have dwindled significantly.

you’re spacing out as the two of you walk, sticking your finger in one of the belt loops of his pants. you’re still looking forward when satoru smiles down at you, sliding his arm around your waist.

and you said you hated him. what a joke.

[nottsangel]

im absolutely in love with dealer!theo and your writing style!!! could you pretty please write more for him? 🥹🥹

“there she is…” theo drawls in a low, husky voice, his imposing and intimidating face instantly lighting up at the sight of you. he takes one last quick drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground, casually putting it out with the heel of his shoe.

“my favourite customer. missed me already, sweetheart?” you feel your cheeks heat up at his flirty remark, a wide, flustered smile uncontrollably tugging at your glossy lips.

“mhm, always. can’t you tell, baby?” he chuckles in response, shaking his head slightly in surprised amusement as he momentarily glances at the ground, clearly taken aback. when his eyes move back up, you notice him quickly checking you out, eyes scanning your body and lingering on your tits for a moment before they finally land on your charming, captivating eyes that drive him wild each time.

“what can i do for you, ma’am?” he questions, his tall frame slowly inching closer to you as he unconsciously bites his busted lip, your eyes narrowing when you notice the healing but still visible wound.

“what happened?!” you blurt out, both curiosity and worry evident on your pretty face, filling him with a sudden, indescribable warmth.

“nothin’ you gotta worry your pretty head over.” he begins, trying to dismiss it, but you continue to stare at him with furrowed brows, clearly not accepting it as an answer. “just, uh, heard some guys on the street call you names behind your back when we met last time. can’t let anyone disrespect my customers like that, y’know? especially not my favourite one.”

you unconsciously tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowed as you study his expression, trying to determine whether he’s speaking the truth or if it’s another one of his flirty gestures— but as far as you can tell with your fair amount of human knowledge, he seems to be speaking the truth.

“well… i don’t need a man to take care of me.” you begin, teasingly smiling as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes, your thumb then carefully brushing over the painful-looking wound. “but uh, thank you. that’s very sweet, i appreciate it.” you say softly, before your voice turns more stern. “don’t get into fights because of me again though— i mean, who do i go to when you’re on ‘sick leave’?”

he lets out a deep laugh, eyes still glued to yours. “yes, ma’am… no more fights.” he responds, his hand giving a playful but lazy salute as he smiles warmly at you. his expression then gradually softens as his eyes shift to your lips, and it’s quiet for a moment, the pent-up tension only building, and for a split second, it feels like your lips are uncontrollably gravitating towards his like a magnet— but then he breaks the silence.

“so, uhm… what is it gonna be this time?”

“oh, uh, just the usual. you— you still got some?”

“for you? ‘course i do.” he reaches into the pockets of his jacket and takes out a tiny bag filled with fine, white powder that glistens in the light, playfully dangling it in front of you while you reach for your own pockets to grab some cash.

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, but instead of giving you a clear answer, he leans towards you and swiftly moves his arm around your body, slipping the small, clear bag into the back pocket of your jeans.

“nothin’. this one’s on me, pretty girl.” he whispers as he cheekily winks at you, his deep voice and warm hand on your ass making your heart race, before he slowly slips his hand out again. “but don’t think this is gonna happen each time, a’ight? next time you’re gonna have to just pay— with a kiss, at least.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[dksfml]

Love 119 [Part Three]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part two]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,” he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

[part one] [part two]

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[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[seongsgirl]

— your girl.

; no smut in this, but my blog is nsfw, so please, mdni.

— I dedicate this work to @starryjake <3 me and jake love you so much.

You laid flat on your bed, eyes fixated on the tiny glow in the dark stars that you insisted that Jake help you stick to your ceiling. They glew dimly in the dark, not getting enough sunlight during the day to make the glow to their full capacity; it didn’t help that you had the curtains drawn closed all day. 

The room was dark, not feeling like getting up to turn the light on and opting to sit in the dark, the only light coming from the sticky stars and the little sliver of light peeking through the crack in your doorframe that shone from the hallway. 

You sighed softly and turned to your side, eyes landing on the framed picture of you and Jake on your desk. He was slightly crouched and your chin rested on top of his head, both of you adorning the cheesiest smiles you have ever wore. Jake’s glasses were slightly crooked and his cheeks were tinted red, much like yours. 

The photo was taken during some event that was happening on campus a little under six months ago. It was one of the happiest moments of your life and you silently thank Jungwon daily for capturing that moment perfectly. 

Then again, any moment you spent with Jake was a happy one. He knew just what to say every time you needed reassurance, knew the perfect remedies for a broken heart when Heeseung left you with one. He knew things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself, he knew everything and more. 

Jake was essentially everything you have ever dreamed about, the person you always dreamed of being with. And you were with him, but not in the way you truly wanted. He was just your best friend and roommate, nothing more, nothing less.

And that made falling in love with him even harder to deal with.

You sighed again and rolled over to your back again, looking at the stars. They began to dim even more, losing their charge as the night progressed. It reminded you a lot of yourself and your current state. You were so bright, so full of energy and ready to show the world what you are capable of. But something shifted within the last few months, and your spark was dulling. Nothing quite felt the same anymore, and you didn’t know what was changing, but something was.

Maybe it was the unrequited love and stress of masking it for so long.

You took a deep breath before looking over at your desk again, searching for your desk clock. The digital clock read nine-thirty and you mentally prepared to see Jake any second now. It was a Saturday night, your usual night to spend with Jake in the living room, a movie on the television and snacks and drinks littering the coffee table as you both caught up with each other from the events that occurred over the week. But you really couldn’t be bothered to partake in the weekly ritual tonight. 

Almost like clockwork, you hear a faint knock on your door and a familiar voice saying your name. You didn’t respond.

There was another quiet knock before the door slowly creaked open. The hallway light shone brightly in your bedroom and burned your eyes, groaning as you clamped them shut. 

“Y/n?” Jake says slowly, as if he’s scared. You slowly open your eyes and look at the boy standing in your doorframe, his head tilted like a puppy. 

“Sorry, Jake.” you started, a puzzling look taking over the boy’s face. “I don’t think I’ll do movie night tonight.” you mumbled.

Jake took a couple cautious steps into your room. It wasn’t like you to skip movie night, in fact, you’ve never skipped one in the entire two and a half years that you two lived together. Jake licked his bottom lip before speaking. “Is everything…are you okay?”

You chuckled. “Not really.”

You could practically hear Jake’s heart shatter in his chest. There you were, his best friend in the entire universe, laying in a dark room while blankly staring at the ceiling and he had no idea you weren’t okay. 

You heard Jake take in a breath before shuffling through your room and sitting on the foot of your bed, your head close to his thigh. You looked over at him to see him already looking down at you. His hair was scruffy and he had his glasses on, really bringing together his nerdy boy image. His eyes were full of worry, yours full of nothing. 

And you both sat there, looking into each other’s eyes in silence for a moment before you turned your attention back to the now dim star stickers. 

“What do you do when you love someone, but they don’t love you back?” you said abruptly, breaking the silence.

Jake looked back over at you, eyes slightly wide. “Huh?”

A sad smile crept onto your lips. “You know what I’m talking about, Jake.” you turned back to him, “When you feel like you can’t love someone even more than you already do, but you know that those feelings aren’t reciprocated. How does someone get closure with something like that?”

Jake’s eyes turned glossy, and his lips scrunched to one side of his face. “I-I don’t know…” he said softly. “I wish I did, because I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Jake put a soft hand on yours that rested on your stomach. 

You sighed. “It hurts, knowing that he’s exactly who I always dreamed about but knowing that he’ll never love me the way I do with him.”

“Do I know him?” Jake asked.

Your lips fell into a straight line. “Yeah, you do.”

Jake hums, acknowledging your response. “Well, I hope he finally sees what’s in front of him and stops being stupid.”

You chuckle softly. “I hope your girl realizes that, too.” and silence falls upon you both again. 

Minutes feel like hours and years before you speak again. 

“Jake,” you mumbled, not letting your vision stray from the stars, but you see Jake shift to look at you in your peripheral. “That’s his name.”

You hear Jake’s breath catch in his throat and you feel your eyes glaze with tears, a single one slipping out and falling down your face. 

“Y/n…” Jake whispers, taking his thumb and wiping away the stray tear. “That’s her name.”

And suddenly the ever growing pit in your stomach doesn't feel as big.

You look over at Jake, and he’s still looking at you. You sit up and come face to face with him. Jake’s hands come up to your cheeks, holding your face gently, and you melt into his touch. 

“I’m sorry I never told you…” Jake whispers, your noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. “Me too,” you reply, your lips ghosting over his. 

“I’ve always wanted you to be my girl. From the day I met you, I knew I had to do whatever it took to get you.” his thumb brushed your cheek.

“Jake,” you press your lips to his softly and you feel him immediately melt into the kiss. You broke away and looked at him with a soft smile. 

“I’ve always been your girl.”

[smallestapplin]

Bro you got me down so bad for Optimus Prime. Can I request possessive Optimus smut? Cybetronian reader if you could, 10/10 love your writing and will be a die hard follower forever

Alright 💕 but you keep your end of the deal/lh

Warning : stomach bulge, size kink, praise, and a very needy Optimus.

Minors do not interact! 18+ only!

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Optimus is this best partner you could’ve ever asked for, ever the gentlebot, so tender and loving with you, how could you not trust him so? You didn’t question him when he called you over, wishing to speak with you privately, why would you?

He was livid, a rage emotion for the Prime to feel, but he couldn’t stop the anger twisting in his spark from ealier, he shouldn’t feel threatened by one of his own, but he can’t stop the feelings from bubbling to the surface.

You’re too kind to your teammates.

If he can’t tell them off, then he can take it out on your valve, drown you in his scent and mark you as his once more.

“Optimus..!”

Your sweet cry breaks him from his thoughts. You’re shaking on his berth, legs twitching on either side of his helm, your servos on top of his which hold your legs apart, clinging to him. You ex-vent sharply as he pulls away from your wet valve, leaving your puffy node alone.

“I’m sorry, my light, you are just too addicting.”

A whine tumbles from your dermas, feeling your lover kiss your inner thigh just so close to your valve. Optimus takes a deep breath, trembling at the heady smell of your need.

To have you beneath him, crying just for him, needing him, wanting him, desperate for him to frag you and fill you with his transfluid

“Frag…what’s gotten into you?” You laugh breathlessly, your fans on high trying to cool yourself down.

You aren’t complaining, not when Optimus moves further up your body, lavishing your frame with firm slow kisses as if to worship your body. He stops just at your neck cables, moving your legs up and over his shoulders, putting your needy valve on display for him.

Optics watching how your valve drools fluid, occasionally clenching around nothing, wanting to be filled. You gasp as Optimus puts his large spike over your valve, grinding his shaft against it and soaking it in your juices.

“Is it a crime to find my conjunx endura enticing? So pretty, and all I can think about is stuffing this valve of yours full, marking you as mine. To remind everyone here that you are mine to hold, mine to frag.”

Your optics widen at his lewd words, his voice low nearly a growl as he pulls his hips back, positioning his spike at your needy hole and easily pushing in. You grab his shoulders, tossing your helm back and intake dropping open.

Even still he’s just too much, your poor valve always stretched so much just trying to take him. His optics stay trained on your stomach, groaning as your metal begins to dent as his spike alone is too big for your body.

“S-S’deep!!”

“Look at how well you take me, just like you were made for me.” Optimus places a servo on your stomach, pressing down where his spike bulges under your mesh. You shriek, servos gripping his shoulders, blue and red paint scratching off under your grip, but he doesn’t care.

“Optimus…ohh…please, it’s too much.”

“Too much? My star, we haven’t even started.”

He kisses the top of your helm to give you some comfort. You choke on air, his hips clanking and smacking against yours pushing his spike further against your sweet spot, pelvis grinding against your node before he pulls back once more and thrust back in.

His thursts are heavy, fragging his spike as deep into you as he could manage, wanting to mold your valve into his shape so only he could please you, no one else can make you feel as good as he can, no one can have you.

He can’t lose you.

“Frag…you’re clenching so tight. Overloading for me already?”

You’re in tears, your body covered in coolant, as he speaks so sweetly to you, like he isn’t fragging you stupid and spike drunk. You’re so close, your climax lost from earlier building back up swiftly.

“O-Optimus!! Oh, oh primus I-I caan’t—!!”

Your overload does little to make him stop. You’re sobbing, near squealing out hiw name even as your voice box goes to static. He leans over you, practically folding you in half, rutting his spike into your needy hole.

“So good, I love you. P-please, just a little more-mm! Haa…overload for me again, milk my spike, let me mark you.”

You’re too far gone, helm heavy and all you can think about is his spike breaking your back strut.

The entire base will know who’s spark you belong to by the time he’s finished.