#so like how long did he just sit there just full face in a plate of spaghetti

[synthshenanigans]

Theres yet again so much to talk about this video but I wanna say

Theres water already surrounding the pool. Like he already dunked himself in it.

How many takes.

How many times did he throw himself into this fucking kiddie pool

[ronanlynchbf]

hell day today and i'm only two hours into my EIGHT HOUR SHIFT

[nezuscribe]

there’s been a couple nights where you and arranged!gojo have had to host little dinners at the estate to show face and let people know you two are still alive.

it’s before the big confession, when the two of you were becoming closer, so it was just pretend niceness hiding the tension for a couple hours.

you tried to talk to the people around the large dining room table, sitting near gojo as you listened in on the conversation, but it was better to just be a part of it rather than the center of the spotlight. gojo had become increasingly aware of the long looks people gave your way, the hushed talks behind the women’s hands. you didn’t notice, maybe you’d been jaded to it, but he did, and he was becoming more tense under their stares.

he noticed how you’d try to jump in and say something, but was instantly cut off by somebody else. gojo had told you before the dinner started that the two of you should hold hands, but you hadn’t let go of his, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of you either. he’d give you an encouraging squeeze, one which you gave him a little smile to, but still clammed up, sitting back in your seat.

"want me to tell them to shut up?" he whispered to you, dropping his head near your ear so that nobody else could hear.

"no it's okay," you say with a laugh, waving it off, "i was just going to ask what cashmere is," you say, in relation to a previous story one of the girls was telling about cashmere moth, and how her entire closet was chewed to bits because of the creatures.

"it's a type of fabric," he explains gently, his eyes searching yours, "very soft," he adds with a little smile and yours grows wider.

"i'd like to see it," you comment, leaning a little bit closer to him.

"i'll have your closets full of cashemere by the morning if you'd like," he says, but you know deep down it could be a promise if you simply said yes.

but you giggle, shaking your head.

"no," you're looking up at him in that way that makes his tongue feel heavy, "the moths, they must be huge," you murmur and he snorts, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter in retaliation.

to be honest, gojo hated these dinners. these people he grew up with were dull and annoying, their conversations full of lame gossip and cheap jokes, and he’d much prefer your lively stories with just you, but they were a necessary evil.

when the servants had cleared the meal away and had begun setting up for dessert, he could feel the stare of one of the girls, anya, and the way her eyes squinted when he caught her looking. he saw the way she sneakily tipped her head back, chin pointing to the opening near some of the stone columns, and excused herself a couple seconds later, looking over her shoulder at him before she disappeared.

gojo knew anya. he’d fooled around with her a couple of times long before the two of you got married, but he found her a bit shallow and dim, nothing he found interesting. he looked over at you to see if you had seen her, but you were looking at your plate, moving some grains of uneaten rice around with your fork.

curiosity got the better of him, wondering what it was she wanted, and so he stood up, his chair scraping behind him as you let go of his hand, you, along with everybody else, looking at him as he excused himself to the washroom.

he walked briskly past the table, leaving through one of the openings of the stone columns, looking around until he say anya at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

“what?” he bit out, hushed, looking behind him to make sure that nobody had followed him out.

anya smiled, her teeth glimmering as he neared her, standing a safe distance away as she pouted slightly.

gojo winced. he forgot how her smile up close was unnerving, the way it wasn’t as soft or full of emotion like yours. her eyes, a deep hazel, glimmered as she took a step closer, her fingers reaching for his collar.

“i missed you,” she whispered, lips glossy as she peered up at him, her lashes batting against her cheeks as he felt his mother dry up, feeling a sudden air of nausea overtake him as he swatted her hand away.

he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“is that all you wanted to tell me?” he hissed out, knowing how stupid he sounded seeing how he had followed her out, surely expecting this.

“what?” anya tilts her head, “thought you’d like to hear it.”

gojo rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

“i thought you had something important to say,” he shrugs, looking away, focusing on a crack, getting ready to leave until she laughs, shaking her head.

nobody said he was the brightest soldier in all the land. he’s not above some actually good gossip, but he had a feeling this ain’t about to be that.

“you’ve always loved gossip,” her eyes glimmer as she takes another tentative step closer, “is that why you married the center of it?”

his eyes narrow slightly, but she just sees him listening to her.

“come on,” anya snorts, her hand coming up to his face until she stops at his cold gaze, pulling her hand away, “we all know it’s not rank or looks that made you marry her.”

gojo feels his arms tighten, a vein bulging in his neck as he swallows thickly. he doesn’t say anything, wants to see how she continues, wants to see what everybody else thinks without saying it.

"i mean, your mother keeps saying it was reciprocal," she rolls her eyes, laughing mirthlessly, "but i know that's a lie. you look miserable whenever you're around her."

gojo feels his eyes twitch, his ring shining in the slivers of moonlight through the large, overarching windows.

"did you call me here to talk ill of my wife?" gojo bites out, but she can't sense his tone, giggling as she shoves him, his body not moving.

"drop the theatrics 'toru," he feels bile in his mouth at her sweetened words, "it's just me," she says, biting her lips as indiscreetly as she can, eyes raking over his toned body as she looks back up to his face, "but regardless, no, i had something else i wanted to tell you."

she sighs, her voice a little higher as if he wouldn't notice.

"i'm staying at the hostelry in the town near here for a couple of nights," she bats her eyes again, and suddenly gojo wonders if he had been insanely ill when he had slept with her those months ago because now he feels sick just looking at her, "if you wanted...i'm there for you."

he raises his white brow slightly.

"gods anya," he breaths deeply through his nose, his eyes darkened, "you have audacity if nothing else."

she smiles brightly, taking it as a compliment.

"i know," she winks, "i looked around the area, and nobody of import comes near there. i know you need it as bad as i do," her voice drops a little, eyes falling slightly to the ground, "people are talking. i know how lonely you must feel."

his nose wrinkles slightly in confusion.

"what are you talking about?"

anya looks at him briefly before looking away, shrugging.

"everybody knows you two don't share a room," she explains, "and how she's not even showing signs of pregnancy. is she frigid in bed? you know, some people are saying she's infertile."

gojo straightens up, a new look taking over his face that makes her voice die down.

"what? who's saying that? who's talking?" he presses, and she feels her mouth dry up, suddenly picking up on the fact that he doesn't seem to be at all interested in the deal she's trying to make.

he feels a sudden wave of mixed emotions washing over him.

are the maids taking? gods, that makes him feel even worse. it surely couldn't be yours, they care for you too much. but it must've been somebody who knows your situation, somebody who sees the way you live on different sides of the estate. gojo feels a sinking pit in his stomach. these rumors that are growing because of his own selfish actions, rumors at your own expense, ones you have no control over, by people you've been trying to befriend for ages.

he knows people look at you whenever you enter a room, hears their awfully concealed whispers. and despite the fact that you try to hide the hurt on your face, he sees the way you avade their glances, hide into yourself to act like it doesn't bother you.

are these whispers now because of him?

"i don't know," she mutters, annoyed, "everyone. you barely look at her. did your parents pay you to marry her? she must've been-"

"stop it." gojo warns, and she shuts her mouth, eyes shimmering with shock.

she looks like she's about to say something but stops, looking over his looming body at something.

"gojo? is that you?" another voice calls out, and he turns around, all the anger melting off of his face when he sees it's you, standing near the pillars as you try to find him.

you smile when you see him, still not seeing anya who's hidden behind him, and wave for him to come back.

"they're about to serve dessert," you say, trying to be as quiet as you can, "oh, are you with someone? sorry, i didn't mean to interrupt..." you trail off, your smile falling when anya shuffles around, making sure you see her behind him, your eyes widening.

gojo feels his world slipping beneath him as your shoulder drops, looking at him and then at anya, a somber look taking over your features. you look for another second, not knowing what to do. gojo feels like a fish, gaping silently at you, never looking back at anya, but you excuse yourself, going back to the dining hall without saying another word.

gojo stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, not sparing his energy to look at the girl peering up at his face.

"get out," he murmurs, his voice low with timber.

"w-what?" she stammers, brows furrowing in confusion.

"get out before i call the guards," he snaps, looking at her from the side of his eyes, "fucking now anya, leave."

she looks up at him, swallowing thickly, but gets the memo that he's being serious. she scammers away, sniffling dramatically as she disappears through another hallway.

he drops his head into his hands, massaging his temples.

his eyes fall to his ring, the one that seems to be growing cold on his finger.

he feels his heart burn in his chest, every step feeling like he had stones tied to his feet as he makes his way back to the hall, hearing the edited clammer of the people welcoming him back, but there was only one person he cared about.

and you weren't looking at him.

in fact, you didn't speak to him that entire night. nor that following week.

gojo has almost bled to death before and has had arrows pierce his back and exit through his chest, but he'd rather experience that ten times again than feel the agonizing silence of the woman he's starting to love.

(second part)

[augustinewrites]

your apartment fills with the mouthwatering scents of buckwheat and dashi as you begin to unpack the takeout that's just been delivered. but even with your stomach already growling, you pause, confused.

“kento?” you call to where he’s is leaning against the counter.

“yes, love?”

you count the boxes again, frowning. “why did you order three? is one for your other girlfriend?”

“of course not,” he replies, unfazed by your teasing accusation as he continues to scroll through his tablet. “she doesn't like soba.”

you throw a napkin in his direction when your see the small smirk curling on his lips, shutting off his tablet to look over at you.

you wait, watching him expectantly.

"it's…for yuuji.”

“ah,” you realize, unable to keep from smiling. “your protégé.”

“he’s more like my intern,” he corrects, taking two plates from the cabinet.

you grab a third, following him to the dining table to help him set up. “you fired your last intern because you didn’t like how he organized your files. yet this one is sukuna’s vessel, and you’re bringing him soba.”

nanami pulls out your chair, kissing the top of your head before settling in his own seat. "you don't approve."

"it's not about that. if you say he's not dangerous, of course i believe you.”

he looks at you for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say.

“i just…don’t want him to feel so alone,” he says softly. “you heard about what happened at the detention center. gojo’s trying to hide him from the higher-ups right now, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. he’s just a kid, and gojo’s has a lot going on. so i— i want to look out for him.”

he glances over at the takeout bag, where the third box is sitting. “i may not be able to protect him like gojo can, but i can at least make sure he’s eating.”

you know he’s been exhausted lately. you can see it in the lines on his face and the slight sag of his shoulders when he trudges home at the end of the day.

yet he still finds time to care for a student that’s not his own.

and oh, if that did not make your heart skip a beat, knowing you were loved by a man capable of such care. you can’t help but watch him, almost unable to wrap your head around how lucky you are.

“you’re staring, dear.”

you sigh loudly, rising from your seat to wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “i think my heart might burst if i find another reason to love you more than i already do.”

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your engagement ring.

“you love me plenty already. which is why you’ve already set a third plate out to invite yuuji to eat with us, correct?”

_____

“and then nanamin charged in and chopped it up just like this—”

nanami watches you watch yuuji swing a single chopstick menacingly as he recounts their last mission.

“he just charged in, hm?” you ask calmly. “yuuji, you’ll tell me if my fiancé is being reckless, won’t you?”

“yes ma’am!”

the blond sits up, clearing his throat. “surely that’s not necessary.”

“he’s so stubborn, isn’t he?” you ask the boy sitting across from you, even rolling your eyes.

“sure is! he’s pretty bossy too.”

nanami’s scoffs as if he’s annoyed, but secretly…secretly he couldn’t be more pleased.

he’s always wanted to be a lot of things in his life. a good sorcerer, a good employee. a good man.

but all of those things he thought he needed to be to live a full life are irrelevant.

because nothing is more fufilling than being needed and being loved.

[frostbitten-writer]

Bathtub nights

Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader

Tags: established relationship; no description of R; nakedness??? I don’t know how to name it, but no smut or suggestiveness; FLUFF

A/n: just a simple, cute one-shot that I thought about while daydreaming, so yeah, enjoy 🫶🏻

The rustling sound of leaves and the creaking of wood were the only things that could be heard in the slow night. The hideout was full and peaceful, the little ones kind of helping with the feeling of pure chaos. You were usually stuck with them during the day, but not that you were complaining, it’s just the fact that you saw Ekko even less. He was always so stiff and serious, never eating or caring for himself. The wrinkles and lines on his forehead were giving him a few more years than he had, making his young face look older. So that’s why you’re here, balancing the tray with his favourite dish in your hands while walking up the steps to his workshop, which, unfortunately for you, was at the top of the tree. 

The wooden door creaked open and you slipped your head into the room, only to see an even more slumped version of Ekko sitting at his desk. To the sound of your steps, he turned around, and you could see his stiff face softening ever so lightly from your presence. The workplace was untidy and yet cozy, just like Ekko. The whole atmosphere was just screaming him. The room was illuminated by a small, warm lamp that made Ekkos eyes seem even warmer, the little specks of gold shining so bright, you almost felt your body melt. 

Carefully setting the plate of food and bread down in the mess of his desk, you sat on his lap and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck while looking down at him with a tender smile.

“Hey..” He rasped out, voice groggy from several hours of silence, his callused and dirty from metal hands snaking up to your hips.

“Hi, tree boy, already studied everything about trees and their existence, or is there something more?” You joked, lips forming into a lazy grin, one hand coming up to one of his dreadlocks.

“Not yet, but I’m close to it..” He smiled, clearing his throat a bit before giggling quietly to you tickling him with his hair. 

He looked at your face with a certain softness that only he could give to you, the expression of love no one else got to see. If you stared a bit longer into his eyes, you could promise you saw his pupils forming into hearts. 

“What’s that that you brought..?” He mumbled, peeking at the plate with a mysterious meal.

“A bit of food, your favourite.. hazelnut soup~” You hooked his chin between your fingers, tugging his head back straight to face you, his big doe eyes looking at you with interest. 

“Really..? You’re so good to me.. how did I get with you..” He mumbled and rested his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes drooping closed. 

“Well, I have to feed you with something if you don’t eat yourself..” You teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, kneading the lumps and muscles.

He whined a bit at the sensation, head lolling to the side.

“I just- I didn’t have time to do so.. I feel like time’s running away from my grasp..” He whispered sincerely, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“It’s okay, you just need some rest.. how about we take a warm bubble bath?” You suggested, doing your best to persuade him.

“You just want a reason to get me out of clothes..” He mumbled, his voice still tired but playful.

“Maybe~” You giggled quietly, jumping out of his grasp and then taking hold of his wrist. “Let’s go, space boy!” 

He only chuckled, the steamy soup long forgotten while you two ran down the spiral steps. 

Many Firelights stopped in their tracks at the sound of something or someone running down the stairs like a madman, their surprised expression growing back to neutral as they saw you two giggling and laughing. They all knew the effect you had on Ekko, they saw it by the way he would smile. Not the smirk he’d do when a plan worked, but a genuine one, an ecstatic grin.

When you reached your shared apartment, you slipped into the room, going straight to the bathroom, hands still clasped together. 

The steam was rising smoothly from the tub, the mirror already fully fogged, making the room humid and warm. He was about to ask how you managed to get it full, if you had already thought about it before asking him at the workshop, but he quickly shut himself up to the smell of the new oil or soap you borrowed.

“I found a new lavender and vanilla oil at the topside, smells amazing, right~?” You purred out with a grin, his expression confused and yet happy.

“Of course you did, found it.” He rolled his eyes affectionately, tugging at the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.

 

-

 

You both were now settled down in the bathtub, foam and bubbles flying around in the mist. He held you against his bare chest, your back rubbing against his skin, his long legs enveloping you from both of your sides. His dreadlocks were wet, his muscles finally getting their rest.

“Now that's a way to end the day, right..?” He whispered and pressed some lazy pecks to your shoulder. You only hummed in response, shifting sideways to face him, your damp hand wiping his face paint off.

“You always do that..” He giggled quietly, closing his eyes affectionately to let you get to his nose and forehead.

“And you love it..” You watched the drops of white colour roll down his cheeks. The smile on your face grew intimate, the chaos temporarily fading away.

“I do..” He whispered back, kissing the inside of your palm before tackling you and pressing gentle and chaste pecks all over your face…

Support banner: @/cafekitsune

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you

♔ Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, mentions of disordered eating of the reader and past emotional abuse, Satoru doesn't really help how he should but his dumbass tries, heavy angst, jealousy, smacking, Duke Gojo is becoming pathetic, lots of begging, heartfelt chap, cunnilingus, fingering, toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic. OOC. ANGST. SO MUCH TENSION.

♔ Word count this chap: 9.7k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

(taglist open/Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Six- Dinner is just a Masquerade

Satoru sits right across from you, glaring as you sit there in your chair, sipping on black coffee from a delicate china, and not touching your plate. You do eat of course, but you refuse to do so in front of him, even after he’d said it was false, you were too nervous. You’d always been a peckish little eater, and your parents praised that, so many people praised your impeccable manners at the table.

Your arms rest just so on the edge of the table, your pinky sits up so high as you take a sip, you know just how many times to chew to seem as if you’re enjoying a dish. You know all the etiquette, and you know how to keep from gaining weight, or to quickly slim if you catch the slightest ounce, you know how to keep healthy enough without looking overly indulgent.

For once, you’d just enjoyed a damn dish, you figured you did not need to impress Duke Gojo, after all he said he’d never want you. But the comment had triggered something you don’t quite like. Aside from Nanami stuffing your mouth full of delicious cookies, you’ve not eaten too much, it’s almost like a control you feel you need, but you must admit, you’re starving right now.

You have fluffy scones, tea and biscuits, and you’re just sipping this coffee, hoping it eases your throat. Duke Gojo slams his hands on the table then, picking up a scone and striding to you, yanks you by your hair. You gasp at the sensation, smacking at his big, stupid hands as he bends low over you.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You bite out, grabbing at his strong wrists and pulling at them, digging your long nails in his skin.

“You’ll fucking eat something, goddamn brat. Open your mouth.” He bends low and you grit your teeth, brows low as you scowl right back at his pretty face, as he’s trying to shove a scone in your mouth.

“Excuse me- ah!” He’s shoved it now, shoving your mouth closed by your jaw, and you’re forced to chew the sweet thing. He leans close to you, thumb brushing against your lower lip, staring at you with swirling blue eyes, so intense you shut your own, chewing it slowly.

You swallow it down, only for him to open your mouth more gently, and it does something to your tummy you hate, this feeling, it’s not butterflies like Nanami, no it’s brutal moths flying violently, and you detest it. You detest that you take another bite of scone for him, finishing it, licking your lower lip and sucking in a breath, your eyes locked on him.

“I should have never said that.” He sits on the table, most casual for him as he’s typically as formal as can be, his thighs spread far too wide and making you remember seeing him. You blush furiously, sipping your coffee then carefully.

“I have forgiven you, Duke. I am not much of an eater anyway.”

“It’s what I said, and I know it’s why you’re wasting away.” He grabs your wrist, wrapping his hand around it gently, an odd sensation and it feels so intense from what you’re used to.

“I’m still a healthy size-”

“For now. Please fucking eat. I know I’m horrible, I know you hate me, I know you owe me no kindness…” You hear his usually cruel voice break, and you struggle to keep your breaths steady, as he caresses your jaw in a way he shouldn’t. “Just don’t let me be the cause of this.”

“Why do you care? You’re so bloody confusing.” You pop another one in your mouth though, and watch his exhale in relief, running a hand through his silky white hair, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I wanted you to hate me, not hurt yourself.” You blink, looking up again.

“Well, you succeeded in me hating you.” You finish chewing and dab your mouth with the handkerchief, an action Satoru’s insane eyes follow.

“I know I did. I will not make a comment again about this however, you have my word. I am… I am sorry.” You feel the sincerity, and though you still hate him, you decide to finally let this go. If this was as good as anything would get with the infuriating, cold Duke.

“Well, thank you, Duke Gojo.” You sip more coffee, as he hops off the table, and your heart thuds in your chest, throat feeling tight again.

“I actually like women with more meat on their bones. You see my mistresses, it was just… I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me.” His voice is strained as he sits back down next to you, nibbling on his own food now slowly, and you sigh, leaning back a bit in your seat, not your typical straight stature.

“I am confident in ways but I have always watched how I look. Making sure to look perfect. It’s what I am praised for, it’s my worth, how well I am wedded. To marry a Duke made my family proud of me, and that is all my worth is, appearance, posture, how I act, how I laugh… how I eat. All of it. A woman has nothing else truly.”

Duke Gojo sips his sweet tea with milk, contemplating you carefully. What were you doing, opening up to this man? Stupid.

“I assumed you were highly confident, that you would know you’re nothing close to a ‘pig’ in how you eat.”

Your hands run along the edge of your little ceramic cup, touching the handle and studying him, tilting your head. “So why say it, then? To make me hate you?”

“Yes.”

Huh.

“May I know why?”

“No.”

There it is, the confusion, the haughty look on his face you want to punch right off of him. He’s clearly done with whatever tiny vulnerability he’s shown, and likely done affording you any kindness. You sigh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “And I still disgust you?”

He clears his throat, pulling at his collar, stiffening in his seat. “Don’t I disgust you, Duchess?”

You bite your lower lip, nodding. “You have lay with four women since I’ve known you, covered in their rouge, their perfume, their lip stains. Indeed, I do not find that attractive. But as for your looks, of course you are handsome.” His eyes widen, full lips parting for a moment.

“I’m handsome to you?”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re extremely handsome outwardly, on the inside is quite another story, Duke. But you already know that.”

He sips his tea once more, just a hint of color on his cheeks. “Well you have not said so.”

“You want me to? You hate me.”

He looks away. “Yes, I do.”

You sigh then. “This conversation grows tiresome-”

“You’re attractive outwardly as well, very, very attractive. You disgust me because… of other reasons than your beauty.” His soft words are barely a whisper, especially at the end.

Now your cheeks flush, but you just sigh. “Oh, so you were not serious when you said-”

“No, I should not have said that either. Now you disgust me because you spread your legs wide for that man.” His fists clench, you stand then, shaking your head.

“What care you? Your cock in another woman every night.” Gojo stands now, stepping right in front of you.

“And was his cock in you, like a whore?” You smack him then, right across his face, and he scowls now, grabbing your wrist, bending low over you. “You’re the most insolent brat I’ve met.”

“And you’re the most stupid, cruel man I’ve ever met. I will not answer your stupid question. I ask not what you do.”

“Well you’re the innocent one here, or you were.”

“What do you care? My innocence isn’t yours to take. I’d never give it to you.” You whisper, and he grabs your waist then, pulling you flush against him, eyes darting to your lips.

“You act as if you do not want me, when I touch you, your body tells another story.” His voice is dangerously soft as he runs his fingers down your skin, where it’s bare on your shoulders, you shiver, your nipples tightening involuntarily. You can’t stand your stupid body.

“And you beg to touch me, don’t you Gojo?” His eyes narrow, long white lashes over his gaze now at your soft words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Just because you taste good doesn’t mean I… you know what? Fuck you, Duchess.”

“Fuck you, Duke. Are the formalities in order for our daily battle? Do you enjoy them so, Duke?” Your free hand slides down his abdomen, watching him suck in a breath, feeling his muscles tense. “Enjoy touching me? Enjoy tasting me? Do you hate that I let someone else?”

You watch his jaw clench, watch him gulp, as his grip on you tightens just so. “It’s disgusting that you do. You’re so desperate, so pathetic, to jump in someone’s arms so quickly. You know you are.” His voice is hoarse, however, strained, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

You laugh softly, giving him a mean smile. “So what does that make you, the man who jumps in any woman’s arms? So fucking desperate anyone will do?”

Satoru grabs your face then, squishing your cheeks as he leans even lower, and you hate your body’s reaction again, you hate everything about him. “What do you care who I lay with then, hmm? Jealous of them?”

“Ha, no… I wouldn’t touch you, lord knows where you’ve been? You wish.”

He snorts. “I do not wish.”

You raise a brow. “Mmm, indeed.”

“Eat one more, wife, since you wish to please your husband, don’t you? The perfect little fucking wife.” You scowl again, popping one more, noticing the pleased smile.

“Only because I am hungry.” You speak after you chew, and he exhales, letting your wrist go, caressing your cheek softly, you hate it, but find that your eyes are fluttering shut.

“Good. Prepare today, we have that dinner with our parents.”

“I’ll be the picture of fake wedded bliss.” You smile sweetly, and he shakes his head, why won’t he let your damn waist go!?

“You sure do know how to pretend. We don’t want them knowing the truth, that we hate each other, hmm?”

“Indeed, I can absolutely pretend. Watch.” You take his hand, batting your long lashes and smiling sweetly, leaning up and pecking a kiss on his cheek, watching the blush decorate the shameless man’s face. “Oh Mama, Papa, I’m ever so happy as Duke Gojo’s wife.”

“Bitch.” He huffs, and you pull back and curtsey.

“I know, perfect performance, hmm?”

“No, you’d be calling me Satoru by now. If I wanted to, I’d have you screaming out ‘Satoru’.” His husky whisper is against your lips as he brushes the backs of his knuckles down your collarbone. You fall into that infinite pool that are Gojo’s eyes, for just a moment, before righting yourself.

“I only scream ‘Satoru’ when he pees on the floor.” You coo, yanking back from him just a step, and earning his furious scowl.

“You’re such a bitch. Imagine if I were the type of husband to take what’s mine, to keep you locked up like some pretty bird in a cage. Ever been happy I don’t?”

“I’m very happy you don’t fuck me. It will be so fun to fuck him-”

Gojo grabs you by the throat then, squeezing just so, and you just laugh as he bends down low. “You’re such a stupid whore.”

“I’m learning from the best.” You whisper out, nails digging into his wrist, but something about how he squeezes, how his other hand slides up your rib cage, makes you…

Wet.

Something’s so wrong with you!?

He releases you, leaning down again, and you hold him at a distance, his blue stormy eyes dilated now. “I should occupy your mouth with other things.”

“I wouldn’t suck you, who knows where that cock has been-”

“You know what that is!?” He demands, tips of his ears red.

You clear your throat, looking down and stepping back, as Satoru is furious. “It’s none of your-”

“You sucked a man off like some-”

“Like how I saw a girl suck you. Mmhmm.” You say then, defiant, raising your eyes back to his, looking at him under your lashes. Gojo grabs you again, and you smack him again, in this stupid fucking dance you both do.

“Did you really?”

“You mad it wasn’t you?” He opens his mouth, those pink lush lips wide, as if he’s at a loss for words. “Maybe I’ll ask your women for tips, you know, for next time.”

He laughs harshly, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, exasperated clearly. “Ask my mistresses for tips on sucking cock?”

“Mmm, indeed. I’m not sure if I did the best as my first time. But you know, he enjoyed it clearly, he… well you know.” 

“You’re such an evil little bitch.” You just smile as he chokes you once more, you feel him holding back, you know he wants to crush your windpipe, but the soft pressure is thrilling. “So you’re just swallowing cum then?”

“Why not? Don’t they swallow, Gojo?” He says nothing, as he’s panting, as you’re whispering through the squeeze of your throat.

“You wouldn’t be able to talk if I fucked your mouth, that’s the difference, wouldn’t be able to swallow anything for days without remembering my cock fucking your little throat.” His words shoot straight to your cunt, and it’s like he knows, as he grips your skirts tightly into a fist.

“I’d never suck you.” You say then, earning a tighter squeeze before he releases you, furious now. “You won’t be any of my firsts, I don’t even count our kiss.” You cough then, rubbing your throat, and Gojo’s fury just grows, as does his despair, as his eyes look so… sad then.

You don’t care.

Gojo deserves this and worse.

You don’t care when he storms away without a fucking word, and you don’t care when he says nothing to you even in that carriage ride to your parents home, where Gojo’s Mama and step dad would be. You don’t care how his thighs are spread, one pressed against yours, how you feel the heat of him against your skin through those layers of satin.

What do you care if he’s upset?

The carriage ride to your parents' home is tense, the silence thick with tension, as Satoru Gojo sulks like a damn child. He keeps peeking at you, before glaring and staring back out the carriage window, fuming. You sit rigidly, your heart racing from the altercation in the dining room, you can still feel his hand on your throat, and you wish you hated it more.

The soft rocking of the carriage and the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets are the only sounds that fill the space in the tense quarters. You hate that his scent fill the air between you, a mix of sandalwood and something sweet, fuck does this stupid man need to smell so good!?

You focus on the passing scenery outside the window, you should take this as a good thing, Satoru Gojo finally shutting the fuck up. Right? How often have you gotten him to-

“Bet you were wet.”

What!?

You look to him incredulously, mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“When I choked that pretty throat of yours.” His ankle is crossed over his knee, he’s resting his chin on his hand, smirking now.

“I was certainly not, damned brute!”

“No, not a bit? You looked like you liked it. Wonder how freaky your baker really gets, could he handle you?”

“Stupid fucking man.” You shove at his arm now, maybe you should have enjoyed that silence. “You presume too much, your Grace.”

“Felt you twice, soaked.” His voice drips with sex, as drippy as he had your little pussy, but you'll not say it out loud. Fuck Duke Gojo.

“Wasn’t you who did it.”

“Lying little bitch.”

“Conceited dick!”

As the carriage draws to a halt in front of your parents' grand estate, you both are glaring at each other, and he’s too close, he’s too close. You want to punch him if not for being at your parents’, and them seeing your ‘husband’ with a giant bruise on his face. Your fingers itch badly to, but soon one of the attendants was opening the carriage door, and Satoru steps out.

He holds his hand out then, and you ignore it, choosing to step down instead, holding your skirts up, nearly tripping as your legs aren’t quite long enough with your flouncy skirts. Then Satoru’s hand catches you by your bare upper arm, and it sends a jolt through your body, a reminder of his earlier touch, and you immediately pull away, smoothing your skirts as if to wipe away the sensation.

“Wanted to land on your face, brat?” He demands through gritted teeth, earning your glare up at him.

“Face planting is preferable to your touch.” He scoffs, walking ahead of you, and you struggle to compose yourself, hating everything about this man.

Perfect.

Composed.

You can do this. You can’t let Satoru see his stupid effects on you anymore than he already has.

Once seated at the long, elegantly set dinner table, the weight of your parents' expectations press down on you. Satoru sits next to you, and instead of being perfect and composed, he seemed on the very edge, fury just radiating. You wonder at him, why was he mad you did the same thing he did? He’s confusing, he’s stupid, he’s bloody infuriating.

You wish you were instead baking with Mr. Nanami, not forcing smiles in this masquerade of an affair next to London’s biggest asshole. Let him ruin the sham of marriage you think, perhaps it will end it all sooner… Though you know in your heart your parents will not let this go, they would simply force you to stay, as would Gojo’s mother.

Gojo’s stepfather looks bored, he and Gojo do not even acknowledge each other, which you find somewhat curious as you pick at your food, the rich aromas of roast beef and steamed vegetables doing little to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You make yourself eat some, noticing Gojo’s relief next to you.

Why does he suddenly care?

The room is lit by several candles, along with a beautiful chandelier overhead, casting flickering shadows across the polished silverware and crystal glasses. Your parents manor was one of the most grand aside from royalty, which of course you were now, but the beauty is hard to rival. If your parents liked one thing, it was opulence, it was being the top of society.

It doesn’t feel much like a home truly. You did not have a bad childhood, no indeed you are very lucky, your parents let you ride horses, play outside, cook in the kitchens. The only pressures you faced were preparing to be a good wife, to be the most perfect, and even though you’ve ‘accomplished’ it, the weight of their gazes and their expectations drowns you still.

The sound of forks and knives clinking against porcelain plates fills the air, punctuated by the occasional forced laughter, along with perfunctory conversation, until they get to what they really wanted to talk about. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as your mother looks at you both.

“So, are we trying for an heir?” You sputter, and Gojo smirks then, looking down at you and raising a brow.

“We have been actively trying, haven’t we, my love.” You grit your teeth at his stupid words, sure he’s playing a game but you hate them.

“Indeed, we have been trying most… fervently, sweet Satoru.” He gulps audibly on the sweet wine he’s drinking, raising brows at the use of his name.

“I’m most pleased to hear this. We had our worries.” Your mother says, and Gojo’s mom smiles.

“I also had my worries. But I can see the sparks between you both.” You stifle a rude laugh, but Gojo snorts, earning a subtle stomp on his foot, and a glare from him, to which you just smile brightly, batting your lashes at him.

“Indeed, I see them as well. Young and in love.” Your dad says, winking at you both, and you literally can barely stop yourself from snorting, instead shoving food into your mouth, and you notice your parents shock, brows raised.

“Eat like that so often and you won’t keep that perfect little waist, darling.” Your mom’s words make your fork clatter then, and you clear your suddenly tight throat, feeling your eyes prick with tears.

“She barely eats, like a damned bird, she has an appetite from us riding horses earlier is all.” Satoru says then, and you look at him in shock, as he’s… is Satoru… defending you?

“Of course, she also must eat well to have a baby you know.” Satoru’s mom says softly, and your mother smiles a bit, nodding, as her crushing words hit an already fragile part of you.

“Indeed, but your husband married you a certain way, you know.” She quips then, and your chest heaves with labored breaths, as you sip on your drink, and you feel Satoru’s hand then, under the cover of the heavy damask tablecloth, on your thigh, not sexual either it’s…

Supportive?

“I assure you she could stand to eat more, she’s rather petite. I enjoy a woman who eats.” He says, and his touch is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver up your spine, as he speaks so bravely for you, on something he himself had said. He now looks to you, and you see it, pain in his eyes that's reflected from yours.

Understanding.

“You’re not the same size, are you, when you married?” Satoru’s mom quips to your mom, and she gasps, you and Satoru hold in your chuckles just barely.

“Well, I… I’m older and had a babe! We can’t all stay your size, Lady Gojo.”

“Leave her alone, she’s just hungry.” Your dad says, and you sigh a bit as your mother finally relents. You can’t eat another bite, as she picks you apart.

“You look pale. That’s not well. You should have more color.” She says now, and you can’t stand another moment, wanting to throw back your wine.

“She’s been in the bed chambers so much, Mama.” Satoru quips, and soon everyone laughs at his remark, and once again, he squeezes your thigh, giving you a small smile.

“Why are you being nice?” You whisper, leaning to his ear, as a loving couple would do, and you inhale his scent, you feel the heat of his palm over your skirts.

“Because your mom’s a bitch.” You giggle a bit, looking up and seeing a different side of him, his smirk… charming and not cruel. You try to remind yourself he’s horrible, and you will remember that later, but for a brief moment you’re content to enjoy him.

“They’ll definitely be making babies.” Satoru’s mom says, and she looks to Satoru curiously then. “Have you given up your rakish ways, Satoru?”

“What rakish ways, you wound me, Mother.” She rolls her pretty blue eyes, a shade darker than Duke Gojo’s, and you tentatively put a hand on his, making him squeeze your thigh, you watch him suck in a breath.

“He’s a reformed rake at present, aren’t you, Satoru?” The room is quiet, and he looks at you in surprise, nodding, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and his warm lips feel far, far too sweet on your skin.

“Indeed, reformed for you my love.” He murmurs, and you can’t take how charming he looks, acts, even when you know how he really is.

You hate that you wished for one moment this was real, that the man you’d had dreams of as a young girl, the Duke - he’d been so charming and funny you noticed from afar- was actually kind. That he wouldn’t be fucking another woman right next to you, right in front of you. That he would truly mean what he says, and not constantly confuse you.

Was there kindness in him, in Satoru Gojo, or just this moment, where you both have some strange agreement? Why won’t you lift your hand off of his, why are you brushing a thumb along his knuckles, and why won’t he release your leg? His hand slides higher, his thumb ghosting along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you bite back a gasp.

The conversation carries on, until Lady Gojo brings up Satoru’s father, and his grip gets brutal, his breathing labored. You clutch onto his hand, looking at him with concern stark in your gaze then. That vein bulges out of his jaw, and now he’s downing a whole glass of wine, holding the empty crystal for a servant to fill, beginning to chug that one down.

“I won’t speak of him, you know that Mother.” She sighs then, shaking her head, cutting a piece of roast beef and chewing it delicately.

“I do not know what ever happened.”

“You need not know. Do not bring him up, he’s dead, he’s gone.” At Satoru’s harsh and cruel words of his own father your mind races, what could he have done to earn such ire?

“Let’s speak of other things.” You chime in then, and he exhales, turning his hand up to entwine with yours, it’s as if you both were relying on each other to get through this sham of a dinner. Something about this was nicer than you cared to admit. “What of the opera this weekend? Are any of you going?”

“Indeed, we have a box seat. Are you two going?” Your father asks, as Lady Gojo is quiet, contemplative, and your mom is still rather huffy about the weight comments.

“We’re going, of course. You know I love the opera.” You say brightly, and soon the topics shift, and they’re on to speak of the races, of gossip, of different businesses and even political matters. The heat is off you and Satoru, so you let go of a hand you’ve held far too long.

Satoru’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it wraps around your back, rubbing little circles against it that feel so good. You laced incredibly tight due to your Mama and her perpetual comments, and you’re struggling just a bit to breathe, but he’s so comforting, his presence. It shouldn’t be.

It shouldn’t be.

It can’t be.

You hate him.

How dare he comfort you, defend you, how could you do the same, how could you act this way when hours ago he’d choked you, and you’d slapped him, and you’d both been so nasty? What was this, were you thinking more into it, was he just keeping up appearances?

Satoru leans close to you then, holding a piece of dessert on a silver fork, and you have flashbacks, of him and Catherine, so vivid you feel sick, you pull back then, wondering how you’d let it get so far, this facade. Just hours ago you had slapped him and he had choked you, and even you had been cruel, something you frequently were lately.

“I need some air, I’m afraid. Excuse me for just a moment.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes narrow a bit, his lips pursing just so.

You rush out into the gardens now, just like you had that night, taking several shaky breaths, trying to compose yourself, remind yourself of the cruel reality that Satoru is not kind, he is not interested. The truth that you have someone who cares, and every moment you enjoy with Satoru feels like some betrayal to him, in such an odd way.

You would be at best a plaything, and at worst, something for Satoru to mock, to have something over you. It was not as if the man for whatever reason feels some attraction that anything has changed. You are a damn fool, you realize it, as you walk past the beautiful marble statues of couples in love, naked aside from rippled sheets gracing their bodies.

You touch a particular one then, seeing the beauty of it, but also the pain, a statue with two women and one man. One is pulling at the man’s shoulders, while the other is in his arms, and you see the pain in the woman’s ivory face, the set of her brows, her hollow eyes, as the other woman smiles so coyly. There is the utmost detail as the man’s hand presses into her flesh.

You are that other woman, or you become that woman when you have just one feeling, just one care, just one moment. He is not sincere, he is not kind, just because he gave you one moment of reprieve, just because he apologized for one wrong doing amongst the countless… he is not worthy of forgiveness… he is not…

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?” You jerk and turn when you see him behind you in the dark night, where thousands of glittery stars watch you and judge you, will they laugh at how stupid you’ve become?

“It is my favorite piece in these gardens.” You say softly, clearing your throat and tilting your head back to look up at him, at his soft lips that tempt you with every breath, at his long white lashes casting shadows down his cheeks. You look down then, nervously gripping your sapphire gown. “I’ll be back momentarily, your Grace.”

“Your mother, she upset you.” His words surprise you, and you take a nervous breath, nodding. “I did not know… I see now, how jealous she is of you.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Mmm, young and beautiful, and she wishes she still was, not that she’s not a pretty lady, but certainly not…” He trails off then, tugging at his cravat, nervous by your shocked expression. “Not you.”

Your heart falters, tears pricking your eyes, and as they fall, Satoru brushes one away with a thumb, ripping apart a fragile psyche. “Why are you being kind? What games do you mean to play?”

He sighs, looking down now as well, broad shoulders slumping a bit. “I just realize that I triggered something already there, and I feel fucking horrible.”

“Then why do it? Why do any of it? What did I do to deserve-”

“I can’t tell you.” His voice is broken, his words so confusing you can’t stand it. “But we have something in common. Or, we did.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” You ask, raising a brow.

His jaw sets. ‘Shit parents who clearly hate us. Though, my shitty parent is since deceased. And yours lives and eats across from you. Was she always like this?”

You blink rapidly, nodding and brushing tendrils that have fallen from your half up do out of your face. “She’s always needed me perfect, picked me to fucking pieces, it’s like I couldn’t live up to it.”

He laughs, dark and without humor then. “I understand that feeling, to need to be perfect. I suppose I thought you were though.”

“I just come across that way. There’s so much wrong with me…”

“Like what?”

“A lot. As you know.”

“Hmm.” He sighs then, as you both stand together in the night, and you hate how much you ache to touch his chest, to feel his arms around you. And why!? Why?

“Well thank you for the kindness tonight, even if it was an act, it was a rather beautiful one.” You turn then, head dropping and shoulders stopping just a bit, as the gentle breeze of the night blows against your skin, making you shiver. Satoru’s big hands grip your shoulders then, and you stiffen, fighting how good it feels, fighting that feeling when he’s pressed against you.

Satoru leans down, breath tickling your ear. “It was not an act to defend you. That was not an act when you helped me either, changing that subject, was it?”

You shake your head then, breathing so heavy, wishing it would calm, as he’s so fucking close, you can feel him everywhere in the night, as if it’s all him. “You helped me, so of course I helped.”

“After all I’ve done, you owe me no kindness. No forgiveness. None.” His words are terse, as his grip tightens, and you bite your lower lip so brutally you tear the skin of it, tasting just a bit of blood. You fight every urge in your body.

“You’re not owed any. That is true. And we will go back to normal, as soon as we are at Gojo Manor-”

“Home. At home.”

“Your home.” You look up and glare, as he scowls. “You’ll have a mistress waiting in your bed, and you’ll cease to need to excite yourself with this stupid game, once a woman you desire is there.”

“You think…” His hands slip down to your waist, pressing you against him, and your head falls back against his chest before you can stop it, letting out a little whine that you despise. “I don’t desire you? Are you so stupid?”

“Fuck you, Gojo. Fuck you confusing me, fuck everything about you, including making me think… making me…”

“Think what, Princess?” His husky tone and that word make you so on edge you can’t stand it, as a big hand presses on your tummy over your corset.

“Don’t call me that, I’m a Duchess, and that’s temporary.”

“You’re a whole fucking Princess, everything about you. This body, this face, that annoyingly perfect posture, the way the entire room holds its breath-”

“Don’t do this. Don’t. You’re a liar.” You turn then, only for him to bend at the waist, cupping your face, shaking his head, the moonlight like a halo behind his head, behind his body, like he’s an angel, when he’s not. “Devil. You’re a devil.”

“And you’re a fucking angel.” You shake your head again, shoving at his chest, but his lips descend, and they feel so good they pulse through you, until you find yourself tip toeing, and he moans in your mouth. “Slutty angel.”

“Whore devil.” You whisper back, only for him to grip you roughly, hands obscene, grabbing your ass over your gown, picking you up with ease and pressing you against that statue, it digs in so hard but you come alive, as he’s kissing down your throat, your chest, biting and moaning so softly.

“Why must you do this to me? Haunt me so. I should hate you.” He says then, confusing the ever living shit out of you. “I should not want you.”

“Why not? Why do you… no… just, let me go. Don’t want this, don’t want you, I don’t!” You smack at his chest, and he grabs your wrists, shoving them behind your back, bringing your hips to him, and he’s hard and thick over your layers. You cry out, head falling back, and he devours you, bit by bit.

“I hate it. I hate you.” He kisses and kisses, as every confession of hate confuses you, as does your throbbing pussy. “I can’t stop it, I can’t stop these thoughts… of tasting you, of kissing you, bit by bit, of making you cum so much you’ll forget that man, he’ll be nothing.”

“Mnh, stop it. You can’t. You won’t. I won’t.” He’s sliding his hand up your bodice, gripping your breasts, shaking his head. “I can’t fall for this, for you, just leave me be!” He frowns then, brows knitting together, as he caresses your cheek far too softly.

His eyes devour you, full of… it’s fucking desire, isn’t it? A person can’t fake that look, but you must ignore it! You must… “Please… I need-”

You both fall apart as you hear your family now, and you just barely manage to escape with your mind intact. Partially.

You can’t fall for this, what even is this!?

It’s a silent carriage ride back, as you both stare out those dark carriage windows, pitch black nearly aside from soft lights hanging along, marking your path, and you can’t get his touch out of your mind, his kiss off your lips. You touch them then, sighing, and his eyes lock on you.

“What?” You say then, putting your fingers down, and he opens his mouth, then shuts it, opening it again. “Say it, Duke.”

“I was not pretending. I meant it.” You laugh then, shaking your head and facing him, as he faces you in the night, the carriage rocking roughly, shoving you into his damn arms, making him suck in a breath, as you push back.

“You’re such a liar, instead of just being cruel outwardly, you want to make me think you actually…”

“Actually what?”

“Want me! When you don’t!”

“I do! I do, fuck I do. Can you not fucking see!?” He demands then, and you shake your head quickly, breaths in quick pants, as his stupid fucking hands run down your shoulders. “I want you so badly I came and begged to taste you. Twice. What do you think that means?”

“That you’re stupid, confusing, a dick! Angry I don’t fall to my fucking knees for you. Conceited, narcissistic and ruthless! Cold and beautiful and hard, like some fucking diamond. You’re the diamond, you!” You shove at him, and he lets you, he lets you smack at him. “I hate you! I hate my life because of you!”

When you stop for just a moment it’s because you hear his labored breaths, and you look up to see tears in the night. You gulp, shaking your head, unbelieving them, gripping his suit so tight it hurts in your hands. He rests his forehead on yours, and you taste the sweet brandy on his breath, and fuck you hate it, when his head tilts, and when his lips brush yours like a ghost.

“You make me cry, you make me hate myself more, you make me… make me want to… you’ve pushed me so hard I-”

“I’m so fucking sorry. I am. I swear to god.”

“Then explain it!”

He chokes on his own cry, you feel your tears mingling together. “I can’t explain it to you, I can’t, but it was never your fault.”

“So I just accept that!? Fuck that. That’s bullshit.” You shove back, swiping your eyes and backing up, your back slamming against the rocking wooden carriage seat, thighs shaking. “It’s because I’m happy without you, you can’t stand it.”

“No, I can’t stand it, not when it’s me who should be making you cum.” You nearly growl in anger, glaring at him and smacking him, only for him to let you, to grip your wrist and kiss your palm. “Don’t fucking do that! I won’t stop seeing him. He is who deserves me, you do not!”

“I know I do not deserve you. I know.” He pins your wrists against the sides of you, and he’s now between your thighs, on his knees, and you’re panicking. “I know you’re too good for me. I know it, goddammit you shouldn’t even let me touch you, but you want it too, don’t you.”

“N-no! Never!” He exhales, slipping up your skirts, and you let him, fuck you spread your thighs for him. “What on Earth are you doing!?”

“I’m going to lick you. And you’re going to cum so hard you’ll forget anything, anything in that pretty head but me.” He whispers, you’re soaked clean through those pantalets he’s ripped off you then, and you gasp. 

“No, you won’t… you can’t… don’t want you…”

“No? Then explain this.” He’s slid a thick digit in your already dripping entrance, and you’re screaming out in the rocking carriage, earning his moan, his look of desire, as his eyes watch you in the night, watch your heaving breasts pressed high in your corset. “Soaking wet little cunt.”

“You can’t, you don’t want me, remember!? Fuck! I don’t want you… mmm… I don’t, no… ah! Fuck you!” He’s barely moving a finger and you nearly cum at that, as your fingers itch to shove his face where it’s so close, as he’s kissing and biting your thighs.

“Please.” He begs, looking up, eyes still glossy, and fuck he looks good, fuck you hate that you want it, that you want to so badly you can’t imagine anything else feeling that good. “Let me feel your cum on my face, dripping down my lips, let me drink all of you, Duchess. Please.”

 He’s desperate, he’s whiny, he’s between your thighs just begging, his own breaths labored, as he’s curling that finger up, and your head falls back, dripping down on him. “You can’t. It’s not… right. You’ll… fuck your whores… you’ll…”

“Just once, let me.” His desperation makes his voice break, as his breath tickles you. “Let me devour you, let me fucking feel you.” His words, his eyes, the finger sliding against your damp folds, it’s too much.

You hate yourself. 

“F-fine, once. I won’t like it, I know I won’t.” You say with a glare, earning a smirk, and a quirked white brow.

“We’ll see about that, Princess.”

He spreads your puffy, aching lips then, and moans when he watches wetness dripping out of your little hole, pooling out of your entrance, then he bends down, sliding his tongue up you, and it feels so good you can’t stop your moan, as those gorgeous eyes look up, and he’s tasting you, his tongue flicking your clit, making it twitch under it, your thighs tightening.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He whispers, lovingly almost, what a joke right, then he’s not just licking you, he’s grabbing you by the fat of your ass, pressing you against the carriage seat, and he’s devouring you.

“Ohmy- ah- what!? I- f-fuck!” You scream out, your hands clinging to his shoulders desperately as he’s sliding his tongue in and out of your soppy entrance, fucking you with it, drinking you all in. Your hips buck up, earning his groan, as he thrusts his tongue in and out, his nose bumping your clit, making you a mess, making you so wet it’s stupid.

You’re so close so quick, you can scarcely hold it in, and when he looks up at you, and takes your hand, putting it on his hair, you feel so fucking powerful then, so desired. You grip his soft hair, hips arching up for more, pulling at his strands, as he moans against you, diving back down, then you’re done for, you’re destroyed, your tummy is clenching with so much pressure you can’t hold in.

You scream out as you cum all over Duke Gojo’s pretty face, and he’s gripping your thighs bruisingly, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth now, humming, as you cum so hard it’s blinding. It washes all over your entire body now, thighs shivering violently on either side of his head as he pulls back, licking his lower lip, covered in your arousal.

“That’s it, you love it don’t you pretty girl?” His words kill your last resolve, if cumming hadn’t, and they confuse you, as your eyes are lidded, as he teases your sensitive entrance with prodding fingers, eyes locked on your face.

“P-pretty… pretty…”

“You’re so pretty like this. Fuck you are so, so pretty, falling apart for me.” He’s sliding two fingers in now, pumping in and out, and you’re on that edge again, as he huffs, leaning up, a breath away. “Lick your sweet cunt off me.”

“Fuck.” You cling to him then, against any good goddamn judgment, as he’s rocking fingers up and down in your tight entrance, and he’s kissing you desperately, so fucking hungry. Your teeth click as he steals your breath, as your tongues swirl so goddamn messy, saliva mixing with your arousal, and you’re both rough and brutal against each other.

He pulls back, biting his lip and sliding a free hand up to your breast, squishing it and making you cry out. “Cum again pretty. Like a good little slut.”

“S-slut… fuck you… fuck!” He’s dived back down now, as the carriage jostles you both, serving to only shove his face further between the apex of your thighs, and you can hear him groan as he licks you from bottom to top, fingering you and licking you, all while his snowy lashes cover his pretty eyes, his face tilted to the side to hit the underside of your clit in quick flicks.

You can't hold it together, everything falls apart again, and this time you're clinging to that white hair, rocking your hips up fucking shameless. He slurps up your wetness, so goddamn obscene in this little carriage as you scream out - “Gojo, c-cumming!”

He pulls back, face glistening, still pressing on that little spongy spot that has you panting, vision darkened as the carriage rocks you both. “Satoru, call me Satoru when you cum.”

“I can’t, I hate you… we hate each… f-fuck you…” He leans up, kissing your breasts, nipping and biting as his fingers work you, so deep it's insane how they hit, the pressure more and more intense as it builds.

“Please just one time. Say my name.” He whispers, vulnerable and begging again, as he's worshiping your cunt, your body. Your body heaves as you struggle to breathe, to think. “Please, Princess…”

“Princess, stop it, stop saying it fuck!” You’re crying salty tears as you’re about to cum again for this horrible man, who is looking at you hungrily.

“You are one, fuck you are, and I'm nothing. Please. Scream my name for me while I feel you gush this sweetness.” He begs again, eyes so dilated they're hard to look at, you're dripping down the carriage seat. You shouldn't be doing this, you shouldn't… you're awful, he's horrible… 

“You’re-”

“I know. I know. Please.” He says again, dipping back down, looking up at you now, and it ends you, that hot, wet tip of his tongue flicking where you're sensitive and you can’t stop your back from arching, your hands from pulling him closer. “Say my name, please. Please.”

His whispers are tickling that clit, as he now sinks two fingers so deep, deeper than you’ve had something in you, pressing so deep it’s almost painful, but you want it, you want more. You want all of him, you even want that pretty cock against all your better judgment, thinking of it just makes you squish lewdly, makes him lick his lower lip hungrily.

“Once?” He nods, free hand pressing your thigh up, flounces of skirts dangling as he still his motions, as he watches you eagerly.

“Then make me cum, and I’ll say it.” He moans at that, lashes fluttering as he dives back down fully, using two fingers as he mouths your clit, and you’re dripping all the way down, so much you’re slippery, and you can’t take it, you are so on edge, as he’s building this intensity in your core, as you listen to his hoarse moans muffled by your cunt.

Satoru has you there again, this time even more intense, your building climax, as you buck up your hips, grinding on his face, before stopping yourself, only for him to pull back for just a moment. “No, Princess, keep doing it. Fuck my face. All those frustrations, please fucking do it, get them out on me.”

You sputter, but then moan and pull him against you, grinding on his beautiful face in the night, as his tongue laps and laps, and your cunt spasms around his fingers now, pulsating as it hits you, as it rocks in waves, and you scream it, fuck you scream it… “Satoru! Satoru!”

He groans, fucking you with his long fingers as you cum so hard, harder than you could imagine possible, fucking reeling and weak, head smacking the seat as you pull his face so tightly, as he’s suffocating against you, but his mouth never stops. His fingers keep pressing up, forcing you into another, blue eyes looking up as he watches you so intently, fall apart.

“Satoru!” You scream again, and finally he relents, leaving you weak and boneless, and he’s kissing you again, as you cling so hungry, as you realize that carriage stopped. “Satoru…” He cups your face, eyes swirling, as you swipe some of your wetness off him.

“I want you around my cock so goddamn bad. So bad. Fuck I’d do anything to feel her.” He whispers, and you can’t stop it, you just kiss him again, and before you know it, you’re out of the carriage in his arms, and he’s quickly walking you in as you cling to him, as your mouths don’t leave each other, not even to breathe, tongues in desperate strokes.

He presses you against the wall of the drawing room, yanking down your bodice now, and you gasp, eyes rolling back as he kisses and bites, as your cunt grinds where he’s so hard, as you want more impossibly more. And from him!? But you can’t remember a goddamn thing he did when he looks at you like that, when he cups your face, pressing you further.

“I need you, fuck I need you.” He says then, and you can’t respond, as your mind swirls. “Are you innocent still? I don’t even care, I won’t judge you, I just need to know if we take this to my bed or I fuck you here.”

As he’s whispering, you blink back tears, sucking in a breath. “We shouldn’t do this, Satoru.”

His eyes get heady, glazed over as he grinds again. “Fuck, my name on your lips?”

“Satoru I… I am still-”

“Your grace, your mistress and Lady Elaine are both here for you.” Satoru’s butler says then, clearing his throat, and it’s like someone threw a bucket of water all over you. Satoru looks in horror as he watches you break, as you shove and shove until he lets you go.

“I am stupid, you’re right.” You whisper then, running, and he’s running after you, shoving past the butler, and you run almost into them, those ladies giggling and sipping wine in your home.

But it’s not your home.

“Please, it was before this. I’ll send them home!” He pleads as he catches you on the stairway, and the ladies are scowling at you, making you so goddamn angry, you shove at him, and he yanks at you. “I want you! I want you!”

“You never did. It’s a game! That's all I am to you.” You sob uncontrollably, hunching over as he clutches you, and you wriggle in his hold. “I hate you!”

“I swear, I didn’t… I didn’t know we’d…” He cups your face then, gulping, his lips tremulous. “I had no clue I’d ever get you like this. I don’t want it to end, not this… I want tonight to be about you, about you only. Please.”

“You knew they’d be here! Is this funny to you? Toying with my goddamn emotions, making me think you could… we could… Ugh!” You shove past him again, running to your room in your pretty silver heels, clicking up the steps, lifting your skirts, and you hear those women now, making your blood boil.

“Duke Gojo-”

“Fuck off.” He shouts back, chasing you, but you’re already in your room, and you’re trying to shut it. “They’ll go home, I swear. Please, let me… let me just touch you more, taste you more. You can do nothing to me if you don’t want to. Please.” He’s pleading now, as you’re trying to shut the door on him, and you can barely look at him, it hurts so bad.

“It’s a game.”

“It’s not!”

“It all is to you. You mean to break me in other manners.”

“No I do not!”

“Then tell me, why do you hate me!? Why!?” He blinks then, opening his mouth, then exhaling, hands reaching for your face, hands that feel too perfect on your skin, hands that made you forget. “You cannot open up to me, you cannot do anything but confuse me. You go down there with them, have your fun, what do I even care, I’m nothing to you!”

“I want you goddammit, you! They’re nothing compared to you.” He speaks through gritted teeth, and you want to believe it, but you steel yourself, as much as you can, shaking your head. “I swear it. I swear it, let me show you…”

“You’ve made enough of a fool of me. Imagine me thinking you could be my first? After…” He pauses, eyes wide, and you shake with your emotion. “I’m an idiot. You were right.”

“I am the idiot. Fuck I know it. Please, give me tonight, please.” He keeps cupping your face, as you hear his women laughing.

“They laugh at me. I’m a joke.”

“You’re-”

“I am. A laughingstock. But at least before I had my dignity, now you strip even that away! Go, I shall never be a fool again.”

He growls, grabbing at you tightly. “Goddamit, stop this, just let me try!”

“I can’t take it. I can’t.” You sob harder as you finally shut the door on his forlorn face, and he’s smacking the door with an angry fist, as you gently touch the door where his hand is, resting your head on it. “I wish it was real.” You whisper, against your will, and you feel another thud on the door.

“Please let me in, please.”

“It hurts too goddamn much. Play your games with someone else. I can’t take this. I can’t.” You feel yourself losing control, and finally you’re sliding down the door, curling into a ball and sobbing, and it takes a long, long time to calm down, to stop banging on the door.

“Please, I’m begging you, open this door. Even if we… even if I just look at you, please.” Your eyes are so full of tears they burn, at his emotional voice, but it’s got to be an act, it’s got to be!

You’re stupid.

You’re so stupid.

You hate yourself for this.

How could you!?

You almost…

“It was real.” He whispers finally, before you hear one more punch at your door, then hear his thuds as he leaves. And your mind wracks, with what will happen, what you’ve done.

What have you done?

And was he in their arms, as you held yourself and cried?

Or was he truly…

You hear nothing that night, but who knows, what if they’re in the dining hall, in the kitchens… you hear nothing as you climb into your bed, aside from a sob ripped from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You sit up in the bed, heart pounding, talking yourself out of this, out of this folly.

He’s cruel.

It’s a game.

You’ve wronged Nanami Kento now.

Someone who really cares.

For what!?

You touch the cold wall of your room, where his bed is on the other side, a bed you’ve never slept in, a bed you’d have let him fuck you in tonight. How could you, how could you, stupid, stupid, stupid. Those women were waiting, and who knows, what if he was fucking them now!? 

What do you care!?

You care.

Fuck you care.

You stomp out of the room an hour later, throat so tight, Satoru always takes your goddamn breath, he never gives you oxygen, just pain, just confusion. You tense as you walk past his room, and you expect it, his women, but Satoru is alone in the night, in his bed, bare back strong as he shivers against the cold, his window wide open.

You hate when you step in, when you shut the window with a quiet click, and you see him sleep for the first time. You hate when you pull up his thick blue blankets over his bare upper body, when he moans in his sleep, and turns his head, so the moonlight illuminates his face. You hate when you caress his cheek with a finger, and you hate when his lips part with a sigh.

You hate how you want to kiss his forehead, you hate how you can’t find the proper way to be mad at him enough. You sigh then, blowing out the candle barely flickering by his bed, brushing soft white hair back one more time, before padding out quietly, shutting the door behind you, resting your back on it.

You can’t be feeling this. He’ll only make a fool of you. So what if he maybe sent them home early? What’s it matter? You should know better. You go back to your room then, laying in your gigantic bed, all alone, empty, as tears fall on your pillow, as you wonder if you should have let him in, but how can you?

Your eyes shut, and you flit from dream to dream, in flitful images, as the heavy weight in your heart fills, as you remember all he’s done, all he’s said, and how easily you almost forgot it with his kisses. His tongue. His eyes. The way Satoru consumed your mind, until it was nothing but him.

Who is Satoru Gojo, was he this cruel man or was he perhaps something more? Why do you care so much?

You finally cry yourself to sleep, dreading what the reality of tomorrow brings, and hating especially that you had to tell someone you care about that you’re horrible. Nanami’s handsome face makes your heart sink, as you realize you’ll lose him, and you’ve lost yourself, all for that man, a man you don’t know, a man who drowns you just existing.

A man that makes it so hard to breathe.

Until the next one dear masochistic readers <3

Part Seven

[starkeyisthelastname]

i just know trailer park rafe looooves making out for hours and eating you out until you can’t remember your name anymore. Do you think he would have a sp*tting kink?

oh yes absolutely all of it. 😩 god this man is nasty

He didn’t know how you did it, but he sure wasn’t complaining. Those delicate little mittens working all day to clean up his filthy trailer that he knew was just going to become a wreck for you to have to pick up again. Or that you had made him a full plate of food with a beer that sat on the banged up coffee table just waiting for him. You still looked so goddamn pretty too, his precious doll that waited on him hand and foot because you wanted to make him happy and show him you could be the perfect little trailer wife he needed.

His plate was cleared, a few beer cans now littered across the table that his long legs rested on. The small living room was dark except for a dim bulb and the static of the old tv playing some shitty old movie. He’d light a cigarette, taking a long drag as he watched you cleaning up the kitchen. He could see right through that little white sundress, still looking like a virgin despite proudly stripping you away from that title.

He was a pleased man that night and he felt like worshipping your sugary self after all you had done. His deep voice would echo off the thin walls, pulling you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed the counter. “C’’mere babydoll, why don’t you give those lil hands a rest?” He said, patting his thigh as an order to come sit in his lap.

He leaned back against the tattered couch, stained wife beater on and with a pair of torn jeans hanging low on his hips. His cigarette hung between his lips, rough hands grabbing your hips to pull you down between his thighs. “You been workin’ hard all day, haven’t ya sweet cheeks?” He would rasp near your ear, smelly nicotine blowing over your frame. You nodded, leaning into his touch his dirty hands ran up and down your body.

It started off with a few pecks, his scruff tickling your baby smooth face as lips teased yours while he still finished his cigarette in between. You’d feel giddy inside, Rafe being the first man your sheltered self had ever kissed. The more whiny you became though, the more possessive he got. Squeezing your ass cheek in his massive palm as he had adjusted you in his lap.

You’d be a couple hours in, tits spilled out of your dress and him shirtless. Your poor little self didn’t know what to do, just letting his tongue shove its way into your mouth over and over until your full lips were swollen. “Mmm.. that’s my pretty baby.” His voice raspy from the long make out session, eyes peering over you like prey. He was longing for a taste of something else, the thought of his tongue on your cunt now invading his mind.

“You wanna know what I really wanna do now?” He asked, thumb slipping between your lips as your desperate little self couldn’t help but rub your bare sex along the crotch of his jeans. You shrugged your shoulders gently, eyes lazy while you sucked on his digit. “I wanna lick your pretty cunt until you can’t take it anymore baby.” He told you, smirk on his face but eyes dark. “Say it. Tell me you want me to lick your cunt.” His words firmer this time.

You didn’t curse, always had been raised to never use foul language despite living in a trailer park. You just couldn’t help but to obey your favorite person, your small voice speaking the unknown words. “I… I want you to l-lick my c-cunt.” You said, voice quiet as you felt a little ashamed. It was enough for Rafe though, nearly growling at the dirty language he teaching you to speak. He’d really test how obedient you were, spitting in your mouth like a whore and closing your jaw shut. “You are so far gone, ain’t ya babydoll? Lettin’ me dirty up your mouth and just fuckin’ takin’ it.”

He’d pick you up with ease, his tall body easily navigating you through the cramped trailer and down the tiny hall to his room. He’d throw you old scratchy mattress, stance still looking huge as he kneeled down. He’d push your dress up, head eagerly finding its way between your plush thighs as he began to eat the sweetest cunt he’d ever been in. You tasted like sugar, leaking all over his tongue and dirty stache as he slurped your folds up messily. He’d watch you try and keep your eyes on him, your soft hand gripping one of the flat pillows he had for support only for your body to fall back with pleasure. You were experiencing a grown man’s mouth on your cunt for the first time and Rafe certainly didn’t play when it came to eating pussy.

“I know babydoll.. feels good don’t it? Keep serving me like a good lil’ trailer park whore and I’ll eat your sweet cunt out as much as you want.” He drawled out between licks, nose buried against your clit to leave you shuddering.

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

How did Shockwave train his human to take his big spike? I just read your Brainstorm x Reader fic (hot as FUCK I loved it) and it got me thinking about how it must've been frustrating at first for Shockwave trying to have sex with his human at his full size. I imagine he mass displaces or changes his spike? I wanna frag shockwave so bad but I also don't know how long I'd survive as a human fleshlight 😭

Could you maybe write something for that? Like Shockwave and his human being sexually frustrated and him accidentally edging himself trying to be gentle with his human? Maybe thighfucking or just the tip. Get creative please! I love your work and the most recent Shockwave x reader got me thinking 🙏💗

I’m sitting here kicking my feet and twirling my hair. Ty for liking my writing!!! It means a lot <3

Anyway…..

Shockwave x Reader, gender neutral AFAB, racially ambiguous, wet dreams, dirty talk, just the tip, reader gets used as a toy, thigh fucking

“Hnn! Shockwave!” Your cute moans echoed throughout your shared habsuite. Such soft flesh dimpled under Shockwave’s servo as he gripped your body.

“You’re doing so well,” Shockwave could hardly contain the steam moving through his vents, his entire frame covered in coolant.

Your juices pooled around the base of his spike. He was so proud of you for finally being able to take him to the base. The head of his spike making a delicious bump in your abdomen as your body tries to mold itself around him. He hoped he could carve your walls into the shape of his spike.

He pulled you up off of his spike, your legs curled up to your hips as you presented your stretched hole to your lover. Shockwave’s servo gripped around your waist tighter in a possessive hold. You gasped feeling him pull himself out to the tip of his spike before lowering you back down to the base with a wet squelch.

“Perfect,” Shockwave whispered. “My perfect pet.”

Shockwave pulled you off him once again before plunging his spike deep in you. He twisted his hips to tease the inside of your cunt with how his spike twitched and moved within you.

RECHARGE CYCLE COMPLETE

Shockwave’s optic blinked online. His processor worked overtime replaying his dream; it was so life like. He could feel your sleeping form curled up next to his helm. The nest of pillows and blankets you had made supporting your sleeping body atop Shockwave’s shoulder plating. He moved his optic down to look at his chasis before gazing at you from the side of his vision.

He knew it was physically impossible for you to take his spike to the base unless he looked into modding his frame. He would consider it but he still wanted to see just how much your body could take. Humans were surprisingly durable and Shockwave wanted to test just how durable your body could be when assaulted with pleasure.

You were so cute, so innocent, sleeping up against your big metal lover. Shockwave could almost forget the countless nights he’d had you stretched out over his digits or stuffed with as many toys as he could fit in you. Seeing how peaceful you were, no one would be any the wiser to how Shockwave had had you screaming his name and squirting by his doing. Shockwave pictures your sleeping face covered in his transfluids. He’d work his spike over you until you woke up to a pink surprise dripping all over you. He knows you’d be a good pet and clean him up. Your soft tongue licking at his spike trying to gobble up as much of his overload as you could.

What have you done to him? The Decepticons’ most feared scientist reduced to a simple pleasure bot for you.

Shockwave absentmindedly rubbed his helm against your sleeping body. What was just a small movement to him was enough of a nudging to wake you up. You groaned while grabbing onto Shockwave’s helm.

“Good morning,” Shockwave greeted raising a servo to stroke at your hair. “Did you have a restful recharge?”

You moved your hands to grab at Shockwave’s servo giving his hand a hug as you peppered kisses along his digit. “Mhm,” you said while rubbing your face against his servo. “Did you?”

Shockwave thought back to his dream. How wonderful it would be to have you spread wide on his spike. So tight he could barely move outside of shallow thrusts.

“I did indeed,” Shockwave replied.

“Have any dreams?” There was a knowing tone to your voice that made Shockwave’s finials twitch.

“I did dream,” Shockwave said curtly.

“Good dreams?”

“Yes.”

You climbed out of your blanket and pillow nest so you could stand on Shockwave’s chasis with your hands on either side of his optic. “Do you want to share with the class?” You teased.

“I believe ‘the class’ already has an idea as to what my dream entailed,” Shockwave ran his servo up your back.

“All I know is that you were venting pretty hard and praising me,” you ran one of your hands along the ridge of Shockwave’s optic.

“My apologies if I disturbed your recharge cycle,” Shockwave let his servo wander to your lower back where his entire hand encompassed your rear and upper thighs as well.

“It was hard not to wake you up,” you murmured with your lips brushing along the ridge of his optic. “I couldn’t help but touch myself hearing you so worked up.”

Shockwave let one of his digits slip between your legs and press up against your heat. “I’m offended you didn’t wake me to join you,” Shockwave teased pressing his finger up against your clothed arousal. You moaned grinding down on his digit. “You work so hard,” you purred pressing kisses along his optic screen. “I wanted you to get a full recharge.”

You slipped your hand down to grab Shockwave’s digit as you humped it. “My big strong scientist always working so hard.”

Shockwave’s engine rumbled at your praise. “Do you wish to know what my dream entailed?” Shockwave relaxed his servo letting you set the pace for how you humped his finger. “Please, Shockwave,” you moaned out.

“I had your human valve spread wide enough to take my spike to my pelvis,” Shockwave explained. “I used you like a spike sleeve.”

Your whole body shivered at the idea. “Mmm, I’d like that,” you murmured feeling a wet stain starting to form inside your underwear. “I want to be stretched out over your cock.”

Shockwave released his modesty plate letting his erect spike spring into the air. “I’m sure you would,” Shockwave said while moving his servo to tug at your pajama pants. “But I’d prefer to not have you injured.”

You whined frantically tugging at your pajama bottoms and underwear only to discard them somewhere to your right. Shockwave couldn’t help his amusement at how needy you had become. Your pubic hair glistening with your slick arousal.

“Your frustration is mutual,” Shockwave held onto your body as he sat up. Your nest falling apart and falling to the berth below.

You looked over your shoulder trying not to drool at how Shockwave’s spike bounced with his movement. “I need you inside me,” you whined as your hand dipped between your folds. Your clit was stiff in arousal as you rubbed it.

“Don’t begin to think that I’m not as desperate to penetrate you,” Shockwave’s chasis rumbled as he spoke. “Your body is very tempting.”

You whined as you leaned back against Shockwave’s servo with your legs spread so he could see how your fingers moved through your slick cunt.

The musk of your pussy hit his olfactory sensors causing a flush of steam to release from his vents. “I would like to propose an idea that may be mutually beneficial.”

“This is exactly where you belong,” Shockwave’s voice sounded desperate as he pulled you along his spike. Your pussy flush against the metal as your legs dangled uselessly. He had his servo wrapped around your torso with your arms pinned to your sides. While you had already cum, your pussy twitching sensitively as Shockwave took what he wanted from you, Shockwave hadn’t.

Your hole fluttered emptily still not satisfied without Shockwave inside of you. “Please!” You begged throwing your head back. You stared up at the underside of Shockwave’s chasis with your eyes half lidded. “Please I can take it! Just fuck me!”

Shockwave growled at your pleading fighting an internal fight with his own desperation and logic. He wanted so desperately to shove his spike as deep as it could go inside of you. He wants to see just how much you can take before you break. Yet every time his logic wins.

Shockwave continues grinding your cunt along his spike leaving a slick trail of your arousal along the metal shaft. His biolights pulsed in agitation so desperate to cum yet not having enough stimulation. “We can attempt penetration today,” Shockwave concluded. He had been training your hole fairly well or so says the display of increasingly large dildos on his shelf he had made for you.

You almost cried out in relief as Shockwave pulled your slick core from his shaft. A string of wet arousal broke as he lifted you away from his spike.

Using his canon arm, he held you against his abdomen as his servo dipped between your legs. Shockwave dipped in two of his digits making you moan out his name. You beautifully took both of his fingers into your greedy hole with a squelch. Shockwave’s spike twitched at the noise. You ran your hands along his canon gripping onto whatever points you could find as he stretched your hole and fucked his fingers into you.

“I would like to set expectations,” Shockwave said while adding another digit into you. “You will not be able to take me to my base. However I will consider any form of penetration a win on our part.”

Shockwave spread his digits making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Your poor hole was stretched to its limit and yet seemed to still beg for more. He pulled his digits out of your hole slowly so you could feel every inch of his metal fingers. They exited your wet pussy with a slorping noise making you wince in embarrassment and Shockwave’s engine rumble in pleasure.

“You are exceptionally wet,” Shockwave showed you how your slick clung to his fingers like clear slime. “I believe this is as exciting for you as it is for me.” You grabbed Shockwave’s servo guiding his metal hand to your mouth so you could lick your arousal off his fingers. “Good, pet,” Shockwave tilted his optic so he could better see you over his chasis. Pride thrummed within his spark seeing you so well trained as to clean his servo without him asking. Your soft lips sucking along his digits as your tongue peeked out to lick up and around his fingers cleaning your slick off of him.

“Are you ready?” Shockwave dragged the back of his knuckle over your cheek tenderly. You could hardly contain yourself as you spread your legs as wide as they could go. “Please, Shockwave!” You begged holding your folds open with your fingers. “I just want you inside me!”

Shockwave groaned leaking transfluid down his painfully erect spike. He grabbed around your waist teasingly dragging your cunt along his shaft once more before turning you around in his servo so you were facing him. The tip of his spike pulsed against your cunt smearing pink transfluid around your folds. You eagerly reached down to rub at his spike in worship earning a thrust against your pussy.

“If we are unable to initiate penetration, do not feel you are inadequate my pet,” Shockwave assured you. You nodded holding your pussy open in excitement. The tip of his spike kissed at your pulsing hole. He pushed forward gently trying to stuff you full but only ended up gliding his cock through your sopping vulva. “Shockwave,” you whined arching your hips at a better angle. “Behave,” Shockwave tided as he attempted to push into you once more. The very end of his spike hooked onto your hole making you moan out in absolute bliss.

Shockwave’s optic remained trained on the barely an inch of his spike he managed to push into you. He pressed further watching how your face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your hole struggled around his girth spasming as your own juices bubbled around his cock.

“Well done,” Shockwave could hardly contain his own moan at the sight. Half of his tip was inside of your tight little hole. Your breathing was frantic as you squirmed in his hold. Your temperature was scorching causing your body to dampen with sweat. “It’s so good!” You moaned out humping the head of his spike. Shockwave’s vents fluttered in bliss as his optic glitched.

“Are you capable of taking more?” Shockwave’s venting was becoming heavy. You were finally here, stretched wide enough to take his spike without any mass displacement or mods. “Please! Please!” You begged your words stringing together in an alphabet soup of praise. “Do not push yourself past your limits,” Shockwave warned before pushing the rest of his cock’s head inside of you.

You felt something inside of you snap as you came from the sensation of being so stretched out alone. Shockwave groaned feeling your walls tighten around him like you were trying to push his massive cock out. He kept your body steady holding his tip firmly in place inside of you. “You are doing wonderfully, pet,” Shockwave moaned giving you an experimental thrust.

You screamed out his name feeling your limbs turn to gelatin from the stimulation. He gave another gentle buck of his hips wanting to hear more of your blissed out noises. Tears strewed down your face as you stared up at Shockwave in disbelief. You had never felt this full your entire life. You were sure he was going to break you and by god did that sound delightful. You hoped Shockwave broke you mind and body only for you to become a sloppy wet toy for him to fuck.

“You take spike exceedingly well,” Shockwave purred pulling you off of the tip of his cock before lowering you once again. You moaned stupidly your brain only able to process the feeling of having your hole so thoroughly stretched beyond its limits. “I am excited to share this information with Soundwave as well.” You became increasingly wetter at the mention of the other bot Shockwave enjoyed sharing you with. “He has requested updates on your training,” Shockwave said satisfied with your fucked out form. “I believe he would enjoy a turn once I am finished.”

You could only nod and drool as Shockwave used your hole as his own personal spike sleeve. Your juices leaking down his spike with a mixture of his transfluids. He could feel his valve clenching in delight at finally feeling that pit within his abdomen that told him he was close. “What is that phrase you use in your human pornography?” Shockwave groaned. “Cumdump?” He pushed forward forcing you to take more of his spike as he released deep within your core. You cried as a spray of squirt erupted from your pussy then dribbled into a pathetic stream. Shockwave kept the head of his spike buried inside of you as he released his overload into your welcoming body. Pink transfluid leaked around his spike dripping out of your fucked out hole and onto his lap.

You sobbed feeling his warm transfluid so deep within you. You rubbed over your abdomen where you felt your womb was. “Beautiful,” Shockwave praised slowly pulling his spike out of you. “You performed far past my expectations.” You shoved your fingers into your stretched hole trying to plug up your cunt to keep any transfluid from leaking out of you. “I see you know your place,” Shockwave lifted you up to his optic as he watched you finger fuck his overload back inside of yourself sloppily. “I will prepare you a bath and a heating pad for your groin. You did very well today, my pet.”

[pedroscowgirl]

Hi sweetheart🫶🏻🤍

I was wondering if you could do a Hugh Jackman x kind! fem reader, where he's having a tiring day and comes back home. You've cooked him a nice dinner and made pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls for desert🫶🏻He appreciates the settlement and wants to give something back, but it was his night.

I love your fics bbg <3

A warm fall night

Hugh jackman x fem!reader

Warnings: smut/fluff, minors dni!

P in v (wrap it up guys), creampie, oral m!receiving, couch sex , slight mention of alcohol (not too much), reader has hair lmk if I forgot something🙏🏼

masterlist

A/n: hi bb! Thank you sm for always supporting me! 🫶🏻 sorry it took so long, but I hope u like this💋

The door to your home creaked open softly, and you heard the familiar shuffle of shoes against the doormat as Hugh stepped inside. The late evening sun cast an orange glow through the windows, but the air carried the first crisp hints of autumn. You glanced up from the kitchen counter, already knowing by the way he moved that it had been a long day. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, putting down the dish towel and walking over to him. “You’re home.”

Hugh turned toward you, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, his deep voice gravelly with fatigue. He placed his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, letting out a heavy breath. He looked so worn down, and all you wanted was to make sure he left his troubles at the door tonight.

“You look tired honey” you observed softly, reaching up to smooth your hand across his arm in a comforting gesture.

“Long day. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes,” he admitted, leaning into your touch. “But it’s better now.” His eyes found yours, full of gratitude already.

“Well, I thought you might need something nice to come home to,” you said, guiding him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and relax. I made your favourite." He sat down and looked up at you,"you are my favourite"

Hugh looked at the food and raised a brow, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his tiredness. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a soft laugh. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I wanted to make sure you could unwind tonight.”

The table was set simply but beautifully, with candles flickering in the center and a hearty meal waiting for him. Grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and buttery mashed potatoes, comfort food at its finest. You placed a glass of red wine in front of him, watching as he took it all in. He looked touched, almost overwhelmed for a moment.

“This looks incredible,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, smiling as you sat down across from him. “Just enjoy it.”

As Hugh dug into the meal, you could see the tension start to leave his body. Each bite seemed to relax him a little more, and you felt a sense of satisfaction just watching him unwind. It was rare for him to take a moment for himself; he was always giving so much to everyone else, always on the go. Tonight, though, you were determined to make sure he felt appreciated.

After a while, you cleared the plates and returned to the kitchen, a playful grin on your face. “I hope you saved some room,” you called over your shoulder.

“For what?” Hugh asked, leaning back in his chair, his interest piqued.

You turned around, holding a tray of pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls, the golden-brown swirls drizzled with a light glaze, still warm from the oven. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, instantly making the room feel cozier.

His eyes widened as you set the tray down on the table. “You made these? You’ve been busy.”

“Just wanted to make sure dessert was special too,” you said, sliding one of the rolls onto a plate and handing it to him. “Pumpkin spice is perfect this time of year, don’t you think?”

Hugh chuckled, taking a bite and closing his eyes in pure enjoyment. “You’re spoiling me tonight,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “These are amazing.”

You sat down next to him, watching him enjoy the dessert, your heart swelling with affection. There was something so satisfying about knowing you’d given him a bit of comfort after such a hard day.

Hugh took your hand across the table, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your palm. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s all about you. You give so much of yourself to everyone, I just wanted to make sure you get a little something back.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with a deep sense of appreciation. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You could see it in his eyes, the weariness fading, replaced by something softer, more relaxed. He had needed this—a night to feel cared for, a night where he didn’t have to be “on” or worry about anyone else.

After dessert, you led him over to the couch, the soft glow of the candles still flickering in the background as you settled down beside him. He stretched out, pulling you into his arms, and you both melted into the cushions, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you.

“This,” Hugh said quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned into him, “is perfect. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just... be in a while.”

You nestled closer, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “You deserve it. No need to do anything tonight. Just relax.”

Hugh chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s supposed to be my night, but I can’t help it. I want to give something back.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, smiling. “You being here is more than enough.”

But he wasn’t having it. Gently, he shifted, pulling you on his lap and his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was low and sincere. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath yours. As you moved, you could feel him growing beneath you, the subtle shift in his breath giving him away. His hands instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you began to gently grind against him, your movements slow and deliberate.

A soft groan escaped his lips, his head falling back as he gave in to the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. The way he responded to you, completely immersed, sent a thrill through your body. You reveled in the control you held, the connection building between you.

But just as the heat began to build, you slowly pulled away, rising from his lap with a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. His eyes opened, clouded with desire as he watched your every move. Without breaking the gaze, you reached down, undoing the button of his pants, your fingers deft and patient.

You freed him gently, your touch light and careful, feeling the weight of the moment between you. You knelt before him, your lips finding his dick.

Each sound he made, each quiet groan or sharp intake of breath—spurred you on, filling the room with a charged energy. His hand flew to your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as he guided you with barely perceptible movements, letting you set the pace. Every motion was filled with deliberate care, a mixture of affection and desire growing stronger between you.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His breathing became heavier, ragged with anticipation, and you knew he was close. His hips bucked slightly, and the warmth of his body against you sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You could sense him nearing the edge, so you quickened your pace, eager to give him everything he wanted.

But then, just as his breathing hitched and his grip in your hair tightened, he suddenly stopped you. His hand slid from your hair to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your breath catching as you realized how close he was. A soft whine escaped your lips, the loss of contact leaving you yearning for more, but his gaze, dark and full of desire, held you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, thick with need. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver in anticipation. “I want you to ride me, babygirl.”

The way he said it, so calm yet commanding, sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, a flush of heat rising in your chest as your mind raced. Without a word, you nodded and took your pants off, a smile playing on your lips as you shifted your weight and moved to straddle him. His hands immediately found your waist, guiding you into position, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him beneath you igniting every nerve in your body. His low groan vibrated through the air, and you felt his grip tighten as you sank down fully, taking him in. For a moment, you stayed still, letting the intensity of the connection settle between you both. The room was filled with quiet breaths and the electric hum of anticipation, each of you lost in the feeling of the other.

His hands slid from your waist up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he urged you to move. You began to roll your hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that matched the deep, unspoken connection between you. His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing as he let out a soft, guttural moan. The way he reacted to your every movement, the way his body responded so naturally to yours, only encouraged you to go further.

As you moved, your hands found his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. The friction, the closeness—it all felt so perfect, like the two of you were made for this moment. His hands never left your body, guiding you, lifting you, as you moved together in sync. His breath was ragged now, his voice low and strained as he whispered your name, filling the space between groans of pleasure.

The pace quickened, and the tension between you built with every movement, each of you caught in a loop of need and desire. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, urging you on. Your bodies moved in perfect unison, your breath mingling with his, the closeness of it all making your heart race.

Your pace quickened even more as you felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you becoming almost desperate. His groans grew louder, and you knew he was close again—this time, you weren’t going to stop. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “I’ love you.”

With that, everything between you seemed to reach its peak. His body responded to yours in perfect rhythm, and together you chased your realease, both completely enveloped in the heat of each other. "I love you to sweetheart. So much.."he moaned as he came into you.

The rest of the night was spent in quiet bliss, the two of you wrapped in each other’s presence. Hugh’s exhaustion slowly faded as the night wore on, replaced by a calm contentment. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work or responsibilities, just you, and the warmth of the home you had created together.

As you both drifted off into sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that tonight had been exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter how hard the world was on him, there was always a place for him to rest, always a place where he was cherished. And that place was with you.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 02

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining

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It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,

"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"

What you did all day,

"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"

It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.

"I thought you were good at cooking"

"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.

He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"

"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"

"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,

He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"

"Let you what"

"Cook, I'll make dinner"

"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"

"They don't feed you at work?"

"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"

"Did your mum cook?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"

"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"

He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,

"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"

He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,

"So what are you making?"

"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"

"French toast?"

"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"

You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,

"Well, it smells great"

The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,

"You can't be serious"

"What'd I do?"

"That's like a cup of syrup"

"So?"

"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"

"What if they already have"

You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"

"You don't have to turn away you know"

You make a small huh? in response,

"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"

"I just assumed"

"I know, but you don't have to turn away"

"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”

“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”

“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.

He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.

You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,

“Sorry”

“Doesn’t hurt”

You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.

“That should do”

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.

"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"

"You trying to kick me out?"

"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"

"There isn't"

You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"

"Right"

There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.

"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.

He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.

You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,

"You scared me"

"You were having a nightmare"

"Yeah, they happen sometimes"

It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,

He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,

"Simon"

He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.

"Will you stay, it's just"

He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"

"Please"

"Of course"

You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.

You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.

You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.

"Do you have something in your pocket?"

He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,

"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.

"It's fine"

He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,

"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"

"Thank you"

You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.

You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.

You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Top left cabinet”

You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,

“Thanks”

He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yep, just making tea”

“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”

He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.

His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,

“Are you any good at fixing things?”

“Depends, what needs fixing”

“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”

“I could give them a look”

You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.

The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.

“I think you’re his new favourite”

Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.

“Strange”

“He’s not strange”

“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”

“Well get used to it”

He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.

“The shutters”

You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”

“I’ll get right on it then”

It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.

I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.

“Beer”

It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.

“Cheers, love one”

Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.

“Must be hot with the mask”

“Get used to it”

You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.

“How’s it looking”

“Great”

“So you’re almost done”

“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,

“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”

“Yeah, nearly there”

“Great, I’ll be inside”

The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.

“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”

“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”

He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,

“You alright?” You call

“Yeah, just sore”

“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”

You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.

“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”

He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,

“Sure, easier”

He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.

“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”

“Great”

“Might leave a scar”

“Adds to the collection”

You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.

“I’m fine”

“I know you are”

“It only hurts a little, when it happens”

“And someone did this to you”

“A few people”

“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,

“Nothing you need to worry about”

You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,

“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,

“Simon, would you- nevermind”

“What do you need?”

“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”

“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.

“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”

He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.

He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.

He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,

“Good morning kitty”

He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.

He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.

“Mornin”

You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,

“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.

“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”

His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”

“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”

“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”

You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.

“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.

“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,

“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”

“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”

“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”

“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”

He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.

He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.

Which is saying a lot.

Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.

Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.

The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.

Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding. 

Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.

And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.

The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about  how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.

That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance. 

He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time: 

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice. 

Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.

He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out.  It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.” 

“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”

Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.

“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him. 

No. “Kinda?”

Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…

Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.

He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.

“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”

Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.

“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”

Well shit.

Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”

“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.

But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.

“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”

Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again. 

They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.

“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”

[eumppattv]

OOPS, IV’E FALLEN IN LOVE | enha ft. hybe game caterers

enhypen falling in love with you during hybe game caterers

pairing ot7 x idol!reader genre ᩍ fluff, love at first sight warnings ꕁ none ➜ masterlist enha permanent taglist here! a/n: requests are open :)

heeseung ☆ ⊹ ๑

you stepped up, handing heeseung the microphone. you had expressed how you admired him as a vocalist, and that was enough for him to join you in the duet. the goal was for you to get a perfect score in the karaoke machine, and he was determined to make it happen. he was so focused on his part, until he heard your voice. it was like a siren, pulling him in until he couldn’t remember where he was standing. after you finished your line, he just started at you. the mc said something about heeseung forgetting his line, but he was too focused on you to hear. he just wanted to hear your voice again.

jay ☆ ⊹ ๑

jay was totally messing up. he had a song blasting in his ears, and was desperately trying to concentrate on your lips. you were saying something, but he couldn’t decipher it. then it happened; you smiled at him. let’s just say he forgot about the game right then and there. you were laughing because no matter how much you slowed down you speech, he still could not guess the word. but now your laughing had him flustered, the tips of his ears turning red. he didn’t care how long the game would take because of his confusion- he just wanted to see you smile at him again.

jake ☆ ⊹ ๑

jake had never met anyone as competitive as him. you were on the field for the soccer portion of the day. you ran up on the field, cheering your team on. then you were called as team captain to walk up to enhypen captain, jake. now face to face, you were asked about your strategy for the game. you replied that there was no strategy because you were just that good. that made jake laugh, and he gave a cocky reply back. throughout the game, there was some banter between you two, until finally your team came out victorious. you stuck your tongue out at jake, and he laughed. he did not stop talking about you to the boys when they returned to their table.

sunghoon ☆ ⊹ ๑

we all know the moment in the last game caterers, where sunghoon forgot eunchae’s name and had to look at her name tag. so this year, they decided to make a game specifically for him: name that idol. there were 5 idols in line, with you being at the end. your name tags were off, the goal being for sunghoon to go down the line and name each one of you. of course he went down the line, giving them different names or just simply giving up on even giving them names. then he got to you, and to everyone surprise- he knew your name. truth is he had been watching you throughout the day, and had learned your name easily. you were definitely special in his eyes.

sunoo ☆ ⊹ ๑

sunoo was tired, and incredibly hungry. as he ran the last lap, he felt a breeze pass by- followed by high pitch cheering. you had won, which meant you would be getting all the food for your team, including the mint chocolate ice cream. he quietly made his way back to the members, sitting down in his chair. his stomach growled, as he put his head down on the table. suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he sprung up in surprise. there you were, with a plate of food and a sweet smile. and there he was, heart full, eating his food while staring at you from across the field.

jungwon ☆ ⊹ ๑

they wanted to do a martial arts segment in this years game caterers. of course jungwon was a part of the event, but little did he know he would go up another martial artist turned idol; you. at first he was a little hesitant, talking to the host about how he didn’t want to hurt you. well, one thing to to another, and here he was. flipped onto the ground, you on top of him with the biggest smirk playing on your face. he was shocked to say the least, but seeing you beat him sparked his interest in you. by the end of the day, he was head over heels. he liked that you were strong, and he was looking forward to seeing you around.

ni-ki ☆ ⊹ ๑

it was the last round of random play dance. only two idols remained, both being the main dancers in their groups. you and ni-ki stepped up, your bodies moving to the familiar beat. suddenly, ni-ki froze up, forgetting the next move. he glanced over to you, hoping you hadn’t made the same mistake. instead he found you dancing your heart out, as if the song belonged to your group. anyone could see the hearts in his eyes. he hadn’t paid much attention to you or anyone during the day, but now he couldn’t look away from you. he had never seen anyone move so elegantly, and look so beautiful.

🝮 taglist open!

@avocarua @kpoprhia @haechansbbg @yeehawnana @lilly-bubblelops @aishigrey @gweoriz @soul-is-a-strange-kid @dior-girlie @gigification

[taesanrot]

[soothe] taesan x f!reader | 1.9k words established relationship, body worshipper!taesan, office worker!taesan, fluff and mostly smut note. this is kinda new territory for meeee thank u to anon who requested this <333 i had fun writing this and imagining taesan as a little office worker

as a manager at his company, taesan typically had his plate full no matter what day it was. for some reason though, today was exceptionally taxing on him.

fingers typing away mindlessly at an email to his higher up, taesan couldn't help but daydream about ditching in the middle of his shift and driving home with the windows down, letting the wind mess up his hair. he thought about how nice it would be to come home to you.

taesan checked the time; it was only 11:30 in the morning. your work hours were a bit more flexible since you worked from home, you were probably showering and getting yourself ready to log in.

screwing his eyes shut, he shuddered at the way his mind wandered to you under the hot water.

you always turned the water a little too hot before stepping in, letting out a little yelp before fixing the temperature. he imagined the suds running down your shoulders and down the curves and ridges of your body, the thought almost making him throw his head back against his chair.

fuck.

taesan usually tried not to think of you at work, especially you showering or changing. it always got him so worked up and made waiting for the end of his work day even more unbearable.

chewing the inside of his cheek, taesan grabbed his phone and sent you a quick text message, a cute little picture of him at his desk.

you opened it within a minute and sent a picture back. taesan held his breath as he clicked the notification open. smiling softly, he took in the sight of you.

you were perched in your desk chair with your legs crossed, sipping a cup of coffee you probably just brewed in your shared kitchen.

taesan wished you knew what you did to him. while the thought of you drove him crazy and kept him all pent up, it also calmed him down and soothed his nerves like no drug ever could.

locking his phone and looking back at his work, taesan groaned. it was going to be a long afternoon.

[...]

pushing your glasses up your nose, you typed away at your desktop computer, sitting criss crossed in your desk chair. the last rays of the evening sun shone through the window of your and taesan's shared apartment.

yawning, you leaned back and stretched out your arms and shoulders, groaning slightly. your coffee from this morning was now cold, you decided to take a break and reheat the rest of it.

grabbing the mug and walking over to the kitchen, you placed it in the microwave and leant against the counter. as the microwaved beeped and your drink was warmed up, you heard the front door unlock and creak as it was pushed open.

you smiled and pulled your drink out of the microwave, waiting for your boyfriend to walk around the corner.

you heard a loud sigh and the sound of shoes and a bag hitting the ground and before you knew it, taesan appeared in front of you.

hair messy and tie loosened, the boy sighed in relief at the sight of you, the one he was waiting to come home to. he strided across the kitchen and into your arms, exhaling louding as he melted into you.

"i missed you." you blushed at how raspy your boyfriend sounded, the exhaustion evident in his tired voice.

taesan pressed his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and tightening his grip on you even more. your hands came up to rub circles along his spine, encouraged by the sounds of satisfaction that echoed into your skin.

after a minute, you attempted to pull away from him, remembering your coffee sitting on the table. taesan trapped you in his grip, molding himself to your body as if he was trying to bury himself under your skin.

"no" you laughed at his stubborn voice, calmly cooing at him.

"taesan, my coffe-" you were shushed by your clingy boyfriend as he walked the two of you over to the living room couch, keeping his arms wrapped around you the whole time.

"i'll make you some fresh coffee later." and with that, he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, moving your legs so they rested on either side of his.

finally face to face with him again, you smiled at taesan's pouty lips. you brought a hand up to smooth down some of his messy hair, smiling at the way he practically melted into your touch.

his hand came up to intertwine with yours and he pulled it to his lips, placing a wet kiss on the back of your hands.

the loud smack made you giggle and taesan moved to your face, loudly pecking your cheeks and forehead and nose. he even kissed your eyelids, further egging on your laughter.

after he was satisfied with teasing you, taesan sighed and leaned further back against the couch, pulling you with him so your head rested in the crook of his neck.

you sighed in delight as you breathed in the scent of him. practically feeling the exhaustion radiate off of his body, your hands moved to undo his tie and take off his jacket.

taesan remained motionless, smiling at the way you doted on him so sweetly. no matter how hard or long any day at work was, he always felt at peace knowing he'd come back to you.

you who'd take care of him without a second question. you know he'd do the exact same for you, that if you asked him he'd rub out every knot in your body or clean every inch of the apartment for you.

left in his dress pants and shirt, you undid the top two buttons to relieve the pressure around his neck before going back to your previous position. taesan's arms snaked around your waist, hands loosely resting on your hips, and his eyes fluttered shut.

taesan shivered as he felt you breathe against the shell of his ear.

"do you want me to rub your back?" you asked tenderly. taesan pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head.

"mmm, just wanna lay here with you." you smiled and got up from his lap, pushing his shoulders lightly so he could move to lay down across the couch.

you grabbed a small throw blanket from the ottoman nearby. turning back to walk towards the couch, you laughed at taesan's pouty face, arms outstreched towards you.

"you're like a cat, sani" you giggled before joining him on the couch, draping the blanket over the two of you. taesan wrapped his arms around you. breathing in happily, you listened to the sound of his heart beating as his warmth encased you.

taesan's hand moved up and down your sides, trying to memorize every ridge of your body with his fingertips.

you inhaled slightly as his hand ghosted over your boob, opening your eyes to look at his.

"can i?" taesan asks softly, smiling when he watches you nod mindlessly.

taesan dragged a finger down the valley of your breasts, watching the way chest moves with your shallow breaths. his hand trailed further down the front of your body, twisting the hem of your shirt and waiting for you to move your arms so he can take it off. you moved your body up so he can pull the article off of you, now left in your bra and sweatpants. you laid down on top of him and while taesan loves the sight of your boobs squished against his chest, he needed to be on top of you.

your boyfriend flipped the two of you so he was now hovering over you. he bit his lip at the sight of you, looking up at him with your doe eyes. your tongue came out to lick your lips and taesan almost saw stars.

he brought a hand to massage the skin of your right breast, palming your nipple over the cup of your bra. you closed your eyes and tilted your head back as he lowered his head to kiss the skin between your breasts. taesan's mouth moved up your left boob, teeth grazing the skin as he sucked and licked to his desire.

his mouth was warm against you, making you arch your back and push your chest into him. he responded to his immediately, taking the opportunity to slip a hand under you and unhook your bra.

bra discarded on the floor, taesan cupped your right boob and massaged it slowly, tweaking your nipple slightly. he peppered kisses along your chest, stopping to take your nipple in his mouth. you moaned at the way his tongue swirled around the bud, his hot breath making you shake underneath him.

his hands traveled downward to squeeze your hips, holding you down as you squirmed underneath him. running a hand through his hair, you tugged it slightly before tapping his chin lightly. breathless, your boyfriend looked up at you curiously. he received an answer as you pulled him up to be face to face with you.

taesan could read you like a book, he knew you wanted to kiss him from the way your fingers traced his neck and jaw. bringing a hand to curl around your neck, he let his lips meet yours, melting against them softly. you were more than eager, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you.

as taesan sucked your bottom lip and stuck his tongue into your mouth, you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, tugging it slightly. you boyfriend chuckled above you, detached himself from your lips to pull his shirt off completely.

you sighed, finally being able to run your hands down his bare back. one hand moved into his hair to tug and massage his scalp as the other rubbed circles along his shoulders and spine. occasionally, you let your nails lightly scratch against his skin, just the way he liked it.

"that feels so good." taesan's voice rumbled into your skin as he rested his head on your chest, cheek pressed against the pulsing skin under which your heart was beating softly.

reaching back to pull the blanket back over the two of you, taesan snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around your torso and waist and basking under your attention. nothing soothed him the way you did, the feeling of your palms and fingers against his bare skin filling up the cracks of exhaustion and frustration within him.

your hands slowed their movements, and your boyfriend looked up from your chest to see you snuggled into the couch's armrest, eyes shut. the boy smiled at the sight of you, shifting upwards so he could lay his head on the armrest beside yours.

you stirred slightly, and taesan wrapped at arm around you to pull you into his chest. he felt his heart bloom as you sleepily hugged him closer to you.

the apartment was almost completely dark now, only lit up by the dull glow of your computer screen. pressing your head into the crook of his neck, taesan felt like the luckiest man ever, falling asleep to the slow sounds of your breathing.

[tlou-reid]

Cardigan ❤︎ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: spencer is finally home and all fem!reader wants is to be close with him (i picture this as season 9 reid but you do you)

♡ WARNINGS: smut, unprotected piv (be safe!) , ass slapping, fluffy smut, spencer being a cutie, showering together, not edited, 18+ minors dni

—♡

Spencer could’ve sworn you could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way up the apartment building’s stairs. He had called you a few hours ago and let you know that they were finally loading up the jet to go home. After an excruciating, exhausting, and downright horrendous case all Spencer wanted to do was go home to you.

You couldn’t help yourself from making your way to the kitchen after hanging up with Spencer. It wasn’t that you felt the need to cook for him; he was a grown man, he could do it himself if he wanted food. But it was an act of love. After being away for almost two weeks and nothing but fast food and vending machine snacks, you knew he’d appreciate a warm, home cooked meal.

You heard the keyhole in the door turn as you sat his plate on the dining room table. You made your way to the door to be able to greet him as soon as he came in. The grin that spread across your face as he opened the door quickly faded as you saw the deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked so, so tired. Your heart fell, knowing he must have had an awful two weeks.

“Spence,” you said lovingly, reaching for his shoulders. His body instantly relaxed as you rubbed the tension out of his body. He stood in the doorway as your hands slid from his shoulders down his chest. Your hands followed the buttons of his purple cardigan down, undoing them as you went. Neither of you said anything, just allowing your actions to convey how much you missed him, how much you loved him, and how much you hoped he was feeling okay.

When his cardigan was fully unbuttoned your hands traced back up to his shoulders, helping him take it off. You grabbed his hand, lightly tugging him inside and setting his cardigan on the arm of the couch, him shutting the door as you did so. Still silent, you led him to the table by his hand, pulling his chair out and allowing him to sit.

Your hand ran through his hair before you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. Spencer’s eyes fell shut as your lips pressed against his skin. “You okay?” You spoke softly. Spencer just nodded, reaching towards to wrap his hands around your waist. His dinner plate was forgotten, but he made a mental note to thank you for the gesture later, as he pulled you into his lap. “Rough week,” was all he said.

You nodded, letting him bury his head into your shoulder. You knew sometimes this is what Spencer needed. Despite not liking when people touched him, he craved yours. It was like you were his own personal sense of home, and everything was okay as long as he could feel your skin. No killers, no victims, no violence, no nightmares. Just you and your soft skin and gentle touch. That was all he needed.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that; just wrapped up with each other. His plate had definitely gone cold by the time his hands unwrapped from your waist. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as you got off his lap, “I’m just really hungry.” You giggled, offering to heat his plate up for him. He declined, assuring you that your cooking was more than enough, and he was just grateful to have something to eat already made. Both of your hearts were full of love as you sat while he ate, continually complimenting your cooking.

When Spencer was done, you quickly cleared his plate for him, just sitting it by the sink for one of you to worry about tomorrow. You, once again, grabbed his hand and gently guided him to your shared bedroom. Physically, he wasn’t fragile. Spencer was strong. He’d been through more than almost anyone else on the planet, and he took it in stride. He took whatever came at him and not only moved on from it, but grew from it. But you were still scared he would break. After all, a person could only take so much.

“Shower with me?” Spencer asked once you both reached the bedroom. He sat on the edge to untie his converses. “Of course,” you hummed already making your way to the connected bathroom. You were turning on the water when Spencer entered the room, wearing only his boxers. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced over every nook and cranny of his body. He was so beautiful. After a week, you were dying to be near him. To touch him. To have him touch you.

Spencer could feel the energy shift as he came in. He watched you as you undressed, stepping into the shower. He followed closely, letting his hand run over your chest as he stepped in. You guys stood facing each other, letting the warm water run over you. You held eye contact as you leaned to kiss him. You’d missed the feeling of his lips against yours.

He was the one who deepened the kiss. He could only control himself so much after being away for so long. He thought of you every night. Even when he couldn’t talk to you, you were on his mind.

His hands were on each side of your face as you made out in the shower. His tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. God, you really did miss him.

Just as quickly as he deepened your kiss, he broke it. “I’m really sweaty,” he chuckled reaching for a rag to soap up. You washed each other. You noticed his half-hard cock as you washed his legs. You couldn’t help but press a kiss on his happy trail. He smiled when you stood up to face him again, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Spencer wrapped a large, fluffy towel around your body when you stepped out. He smiled as he ran his hands along your shoulders. He couldn’t help but give you another kiss before leaving the bathroom.

“Come here,” Spencer beckoned, bringing you over to the bed. You held your towel tight to your body as he leaned into where you stood between his legs. He was sitting, trapping you between his open, man-spreading legs. He started pressing deep kisses into your neck and mumbling how much he missed you in-between them. Your grip on your towel loosened as he showered you with love.

He noticed this, reaching up to move your hand completely. He was sucking a mark into your neck as he pulled your towel down. His mouth moved down, as did his hands. As he spread kisses across your chest, Spencer pulled you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, he attached himself to your left nipple. He kept one hand around your waist and brought the other up to toy with your right one.

“Spence,” you groaned, pushing yourself closer to him. After him being gone for so long, it was so easy for him to turn you on. Spencer could feel the wetness that had pooled around your pussy from where you were on his lap.

“Yes, baby?” He questioned, knowing what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it. “I want you,” you whined, dragging your pussy along his hard cock. “I’m tired baby, I don’t know if I can give it to you.” You whined at his teasing words.

He wasn’t lying. He was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he would last once he was inside of you.

“That’s okay,” you mewled, dropping your head into his shoulder, “I can do it myself, if that’s okay.” Spencer smiled, and let out a soft moan at your sweet, but dirty words. “Of course that’s okay,” he said.

That was all you needed, reaching a hand down in between you two and lining him up with your entrance. His hands rested on your waist as you sat down on him. You both let out a matching groan as you fully took him. “I missed you so fucking much.” Spencer said, moving forward to kiss you.

Your movements started light, barely lifting yourself off of his cock. The drag of his length inside of you felt so good as you bounced on his dick. As your movements started to pick up, Spencer was groaning underneath you, loving the way your ass slapped against his thighs as you bounced on him. He couldn’t help himself as he reached down to give it a light slap, before gripping it hard.

You let out a loud moan as you felt him guide your movements from behind. You pressed kisses into his neck as he moved you. You wanted to leave marks on him, just like he did to you, but you couldn’t. He’d have to leave again and you didn’t want anyone else to see the filthy things you two did when you were alone.

Spencer’s words were broken and weak as he sputtered out, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last.” You nodded, agreeing with him but unable to find words as his cock lit a fire inside of you. Your movements were fast and heavy, becoming erratic as you were reaching your high.

When his hand that wasn’t on your ass reached down between your bodies, rubbing on your clit, you let out a moan. Your legs began to feel weak and he had to work harder to guide you as finished on his cock. Your pussy squeezing him just right led him to his own, cumming inside of you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you,” Spencer spoke softly, his throat slightly hoarse. You hummed in agreement, pulling yourself off of him. You tried not to make a mess as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you were done, Spencer was laying in his plaid sweatpants, propped up on pillows at the top of your bed. Your eyes couldn’t help but trace his long legs. He smiled at you, holding out the cardigan that you had pulled off of him when he came in.

“I figured you’d like to sleep in it.” You smiled and nodded, slipping it on and buttoning it up. As you both settled down and turned off the lights, all you could think about was how happy you were he was home and safe.

You slept together with your legs intertwined at the bottom of the bed. Spencer didn’t have any nightmares that night.

[austinswife]

DADA’S GIRL - Austin Butler

FROM SERIES — THE BUTLER FAMILY CHRONICLES

SYNOPSIS — Ever since Austin found out you were expecting a baby girl, he took it upon himself to handle the important task of dropping off and picking up Wren from school. Being the loving and protective dad he is, Austin never misses the opportunity to be there for his little girl. But today, as Austin preps for a special dinner, you pick Wren up from kindergarten instead. Things take a playful twist when some overly eager fans try to approach you, with a few even attempting to flirt with you. Wren, with her usual sass and fierce protectiveness over her mom and dad, handles the situation in her own way, causing a proud moment for Austin when you get home.

WARNING(S) — Family fluff, cute interactions, and a few playful, light-hearted moments, minor references to flirting, but all handled with innocence and humor from Wren’s perspective.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

Morning in the Butler household was always a gentle rush. Austin had woken up bright and early, like he always did, to make breakfast for you and Wren before she went to kindergarten. The smell of freshly made waffle filled the air, mingling with the sound of Wren’s little feet pattering against the hardwood floor as she rushed to her chair at the table.

You smiled, sitting down with your cup of coffee, watching as Austin brought over a plate of waffle with a little smiley face made out of syrup on Wren’s plate. He sat beside her, his eyes twinkling as he watched her dig in with excitement.

“You excited for your first day at school, sweetie?” he asked, brushing a blonde stray curl out of her face.

Wren nodded enthusiastically, her mouth full of waffle. “Mhm! I wanna play with the toys and see new friends!”

You and Austin exchanged a smile, your hearts both swelling with pride and a little bit of that bittersweet feeling that came with watching your little girl grow up so fast.

“She’s going to be just fine,” you reassured Austin, who had been extra protective ever since you’d found out you were pregnant with Wren. He’d insisted, from that very moment, that it would be his job to drop her off and pick her up from school. He couldn’t bear the thought of missing any of those milestones.

Austin chuckled, but there was a trace of emotion behind his voice. “I know, I know. I just can’t believe how quickly time’s flying.” He turned to Wren. “You ready for dada to drop you off at school?”

“Yesss mama!” she beamed, her syrupy hands in the air.

The morning drop-off had gone smoothly, like always. Austin waved goodbye to Wren as she confidently toddled into her classroom, her little backpack bouncing behind her. She gave him a big, gap-toothed grin over her shoulder before disappearing into her world of finger-painting and story-time.

With the day free, Austin decided to plan something special for dinner. He was feeling inspired, and since you’d been working extra hard on a film project lately, he wanted to surprise you with a home-cooked, fancy meal. So, as he spent the afternoon prepping ingredients in the kitchen, you took the chance to swing by the school to pick up Wren, giving Austin more time to focus on the surprise.

The afternoon sun was warm as you stood outside Wren’s kindergarten classroom, waiting with the other parents for school to end. The school bell rang, and before long, the classroom door opened, releasing a flood of giggling children, including your sweet little Wren, who ran straight to you with her arms wide open.

“Mamaaa!” she squealed, throwing herself into your arms.

You laughed and hugged her tight. “How was school, baby? Did you have fun?”

“Mhm! I made a picture for you and Dada!” she exclaimed proudly, pulling a crumpled drawing from her backpack. It was full of colorful scribbles that vaguely resembled a family portrait—you, Austin, and Wren holding hands in front of what appeared to be your house.

“Oh wow, this is beautiful,” you cooed, kissing her cheek. “I’m sure Dada’s going to love it very much, hon.”

As you were getting ready to leave, with Wren holding your hand, a group of young guys approached. At first, you didn’t think much of it—they seemed to recognize you from one of your recent roles, offering polite greetings. But soon, a few of them began to hover closer than necessary, clearly hoping for more than just a casual chat.

One of them reached out toward your arm with a cocky grin. “You’re even prettier in person,” he remarked, his tone a little too smooth for comfort.

Before you could react, Wren, with all the sass a two-year-old could muster, stomped her foot, glaring at the stranger. “Hey! Don’t touch what Dada’s!” she snapped, her voice full of toddler indignation.

The men blinked in surprise, taken aback by the fierce little girl standing protectively in front of you. You bit back a laugh, too charmed by your daughter’s loyalty to be annoyed.

You knelt down to Wren’s level, squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s go home, sweetheart. Dada’s waiting for us, and he’s making something yummy for dinner.”

Wren, still glaring at the guys, huffed. “Yeah! My Dada’s waiting!”

The men, realizing they were no match for a two-year-old’s determination, sheepishly backed off, offering quick goodbyes before disappearing down the street.

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked Wren up and carried her to the car. She wrapped her arms around your neck, leaning her head on your shoulder as you buckled her into her car seat.

“You’re so brave, Wren,” you said, still giggling to yourself as you started the car.

“I know,” she replied matter-of-factly, already distracted by her drawing. “Dada always says to protect you, Mama!”

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling at the thought of how protective Austin had always been of both you and Wren.

As you drove home, you asked Wren about her first day at kindergarten, and she happily chattered about the new toys she’d played with, the new friends she’d made, and how one of the boys in her class shared his snack with her.

“Did you have fun?” you asked as you turned onto your street.

“Yeah! But I missed Dada… and you!” she added quickly, her big eyes looking at you through the rearview mirror.

You couldn’t help but feel a little twinge in your heart at her words, but you smiled softly. “We missed you too, baby.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, you could already smell the delicious aroma of whatever Austin had been cooking up. Wren wiggled excitedly in her seat as you unbuckled her and led her inside.

The house was warm and inviting, and in the kitchen, Austin was busy setting the table, a proud grin on his face as he saw you both walk in. “There are my girls,” he said, his voice full of love as he scooped Wren up into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Dada!” Wren squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, bug,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How was your day at school?”

Before Wren could launch into her story, you touched Austin’s arm, trying to hide your grin. “Oh, before I forget… you might want to hear what your daughter said earlier.”

Austin’s brow quirked in curiosity. “Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

You stifled a laugh and explained, “When I picked her up, a few guys tried to come over and talk to me, and one of them even tried to touch my arm.”

Austin’s eyes immediately flickered with protectiveness, his hold on Wren tightening just a little. “They what?”

You held up a hand, still smiling. “Before I could say anything, Wren piped up and told them, ‘Don’t touch what Dada’s!’ in her sassiest little voice.”

Austin stared at you for a moment, processing the story, before a wide grin spread across his face. He threw his head back and laughed, full of pride. “That’s my girl!”

Wren beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Yeah! They were trying to touch Mama, but I told them no!”

Austin hugged her tightly, still grinning. “That’s right, bug. You protect Mama, always.”

After a few more proud comments, Austin set Wren down and told her to wash her hands for dinner. You watched her dash off to the bathroom, still smiling at how much she was like her dad.

Once Wren was seated at the table, you all dug into the delicious meal Austin had prepared—perfectly roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables, along with a small dessert of chocolate mousse for afterward. Wren, with her little hands clasped together, kicked her feet under the table as she munched on her food.

“So, bug,” Austin said, his voice soft and full of warmth. “Tell me about your first day at school. Did you have fun?”

Wren nodded excitedly, launching into her innocent, toddler version of the day’s events. “I made a picture for you and Mama, and I played with the blocks, and a boy gave me his snack ‘cause he said he liked my braids.”

Austin exchanged a glance with you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, he did, did he?”

Wren nodded earnestly. “Mhm! But I told him my Dada makes the best snacks.”

Austin chuckled, his chest swelling with pride again. “That’s right, baby. No one makes snacks like your Dada.”

As dinner wound down and the night drew on, you watched as Austin scooped Wren up and carried her upstairs for bed, the two of them whispering and giggling together like they always did.

It was moments like this, these quiet, everyday moments, that reminded you just how lucky you were. Austin wasn’t just an incredible actor; he was the most devoted husband and father you could have ever hoped for. And with Wren in his arms, safe and sound, you knew that everything in your world was exactly as it should be.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Ten — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Poor Rhys gets cockblocked. Cassian and Azriel come to blows. Realisations dawn on Az that he doesn’t know what to do with. Kaeda’s not very good with rejection. Reader receives some unexpected support.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Depictions of violence and injury.

The male’s hand has found pride of place in Rhysand’s lap.

Currently, it sits on his thigh, but the temptation to inch it closer — closer — to that sweet prize between his legs is a lusty, burgeoning one.

A shame, truly, that they’re currently fully clothed and in the middle of the busy mead hall.

Rhys chews and swallows a mouthful of his dinner, a smirk toying with his lips as he glances at his most recent sexual conquest.

There’s enough heat in that gaze to set the whole of Windhaven blazing.

Zakai is a very pretty male, indeed, with rich dark skin and thick, long eyelashes for days. His tempting appearance is most certainly exacerbating this current haze of lust that has taken over him as of late, driven by a preference for males. It changes every now and then. Sometimes he favours males, other times he favours females.

Whatever takes his fancy, there’s always somebody to warm his bed.

“I do believe,” the future High Lord purrs, “that you’re trying to distract me from my dinner.”

Zakai’s full lips kick up into a smirk. “Maybe I am.”

“How terrible.” He leans in closer. “Depriving me of a nutritional meal. What of my sustenance?”

Zakai also leans in. “I have something else you can wrap that pretty mouth around. I think you’ll find it to be more than adequate.” So boldly, as if no one else is around, he snaps out and drags Rhys’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Rhys makes a low noise, food all but forgotten—

But a kiss never comes to fruition as they’re shoved apart, and Cassian is slotting himself between them. “Your mother is here.” He steals Rhys’s plate. “Did you know?”

Rhys tamps down on the urge to slam his face into that food. “I would hope so, considering it was I who flew in with her.”

Cass hums. “We’ve been banished from the house for the time being.” He turns to Zakai. “Rhys will have to suck your dick elsewhere. May I suggest the pillory? He could even tie you up. Would be very kinky—”

“Banished?” Rhys quickly interrupts with a frown. “Why? Is my mother alright?”

“Roza’s fine. It’s Y/N. They’re having a serious talk.”

“About what?”

“Serious stuff, I guess.”

Cassian can be really, really frustrating sometimes.

Rhys shoots him a look that communicates precisely that. “What serious stuff? What did they say?”

“Roza called it girl talk.” Cass takes another huge bite, chews — and pauses in thought, “Do you think Y/N has been acting a little strange recently? Not her usual self.”

In all honesty, Rhys regrets not being around more, with all Y/N has had to contend with as of late. But even with him flitting between Windhaven and Velaris, he’s noticed a change.

A change amongst everyone, really. Something is…off.

“She has a lot going on. It’s hardly surprising.” He says, studying Cassian — the male is still in deep thought. “But I think there’s more than she’s letting on. I thought you would know more than I do, considering you’re around her more.”

Cassian says nothing. He chews and chews like he can no longer taste the food in his mouth, and he’s just giving it absolutely anything to do other than speak. Even Zakai shoots Rhys a look that says he’s not buying it.

“Shall I give you two some space to talk?” Rhys’s lover suggests.

Rhys dips his chin in gratitude. Makes sure that a little bit of heat still swims in his eyes — a suggestion of what’s to come, when he’s finished here. “I’ll come find you.” He promises.

Zakai winks. “I’ll be waiting by the pillory.” And with a shared laugh, he’s standing and strolling away.

Rhys turns back to Cass. He’s at least swallowed the mouthful of food, but there’s still a faraway look in his eyes. “What is it you’re thinking so hard about?”

Cassian just chews his bottom lip.

“Cass.” He gives a little kick to his leg. “If there’s something you know about Y/N—”

“I think I may have fucked up. Badly.” Finally, his friend turns to him. The severity on his face is…rare. Worrying. “Maybe I should have told you this before now, I don’t know. But…you see…Y/N and I…we—”

There’s no chance for him to complete the sentence.

Not as the mead hall’s huge wooden doors burst open, loudly and abruptly enough that conversation just ceases. Everyone turns. Azriel looms in the doorway.

He only becomes more of an intimidating figure as he gets older — anyone would be an idiot not to recognise that. But there’s something about him right now, like this, that has even the most steeled Illyrian warriors eyeing him cautiously.

Though his hair is wet-through from the snow, he’s not at all dressed for the cold weather. The casual, tight-fitting shirt and breeches will do very little to protect him from the brutal temperatures, and his tan skin is already pinkened where the icy air has bitten it.

But his eyes — his eyes are a blazing, churning inferno.

He looks huge in the doorway. Bigger than he ever has. His chest falls and rises heavily, and his fists clench at his sides. The firm set of his jaw is a warning. He hasn’t come here to play.

His boots thud harshly against the wooden floor as he storms in, and everyone watches, waits to see who the shadowsinger has a problem with, and what he’s going to do about it. He appears to have no weapons on him — a rare sight that only adds to the rugged, impulsive nature of how he looks right now. Like he forgot all else in his pursuit to come here.

What nobody is expecting is the way his dark, golden gaze zeroes in on Cassian. And the love that usually sits on Azriel’s face when looking at his brother has been replaced with something infinitely colder. Harsher. Angrier.

Dangerous.

Rhysand glances between them, recognising very quickly that something has occurred in his absence. He slowly rises from his seat.

“Az?” He says calmly. “You alright?”

No.

No, Azriel is not alright.

Everyone knows it. Cassian especially.

He’s staring back at his friend, and a thousand realisations pelt him that he genuinely did not consider before now. He’s got a terrible habit of acting first and thinking later. Of not looking at the bigger picture and considering every single person that might get hurt as a result of his actions. He doesn’t mean to be so thoughtless or impulsive. He’s gradually learning.

But as he drinks in the sight of Azriel, he somehow knows the source of his rage without it needing to be said. It never occurred to him before, but it does now.

Both he and Rhys have secretly speculated, over the years, whether something more might grow from the loving friendship between Azriel and Y/N. But time passed, and nothing came of it, and—and—

And with Kaeda on the scene, Cassian had assumed that no romance would be blossoming after all.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t still feelings there. Complicated feelings.

And in that moment, as Azriel stops at the table, the true weight of Cassian’s actions strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

He clears his throat, taking in the sight of him. Even his shadows are staying out of this. “Az—”

“Get up.” Azriel demands fiercely.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told—”

“I will not tell you twice, Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s eyes darken. “Get. The fuck. Up.”

Every single person is watching — waiting. Cassian doesn’t move.

And then he says quietly, “No.”

It’s not that he has any problem getting in a punch up with either of his brothers — Cauldron knows, it’s happened more times than any of them care to remember, where they’ve roughed each other up and resolved things quickly after. It’s just a method of Illyrian affection.

But this isn’t like that. This is hugely, frighteningly different.

This is serious.

Cassian is realising very quickly that he fucked up — not necessarily in the act, itself, of having sex with Y/N. They are both free, consenting adults, after all.

But if he’s guilty of anything, it’s of not thinking about who he might hurt with his decisions. And if he’d bothered to stop and think that night in the kitchen, he’d have known damn well that him having such relations with Y/N would be upsetting for Azriel. At the very least, Cass should have spoken to him first.

And that’s what he wants to do, now. Not fight. Not draw blood and leave bruises. Just…talk. Explain himself. Make it clear that he would never, ever intentionally hurt Az.

“I’m not fighting you.” He says, far quieter than his usual Cassian volume. “We should talk—”

Azriel’s lunging across the table and nipping that suggestion right in the bud. His fist goes flying so hard into Cassian’s jaw that his head snaps back. He barely has a chance to right himself before Az is throwing himself at him fully and knocking him to the floor.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rhys snaps, but neither of them seems to hear, and then the noise is picking up in the room and people are rising from their seats to get a closer look at the fight. Encouraging them with rowdy shouts.

This is no competitive brawl between friends. Through the gathering people, fists are swinging and blood is flying all over the place. Azriel is pummelling Cassian’s face over and over, and choked, angry words are leaving him as he does.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?!” The shadowsinger seethes, throwing another punch. “You know—” Punch. “Know how I feel—” Punch. “And you still had to go and do it.”

Too much is happening at once for Rhys to put the pieces together. All he knows is that this is bad. All he can do is watch.

And Cassian is barely fighting back. He’s not interested in returning the punches. He just wants to put a stop to this.

“You knew. I know you knew.” Az then grabs him by the collar of his tunic, and he’s lifting him and slamming him back down against the floor, so hard that the whoosh of air that leaves Cassian can be heard across the hall. “Fuck. You. Cassian. Fuck you—”

“You—” Cass coughs blood at him. “You had Kaeda—”

“Piece of shit—”

“Perhaps…if you hadn’t been…so blinded by your fucking lust…forgot all about Y/N—”

Oh, that’s entirely the wrong thing to say.

A snarl is leaving Az, or maybe Cass, or perhaps both of them at the same time.

What happened leading up to this point was mere child’s play.

The two of them utterly lose it, and Cassian forgets all about talking and allows his temper to take over, and the real fight begins. Rhys is shoved back, stunned, as people try to push closer. All he can hear is the sound of his friends’ punches landing on each other. With more blood drawn, the noise becomes a sickly, wet one that tells him this is getting out of hand.

He barges his way through people, trying to get to the centre of the fray, but a noise is stopping him in his tracks.

“HEY!”

Somehow, his mother’s voice is loud enough, commanding enough, to reach every corner of the mead hall and wash over each and every occupant. Something about the raw order in her voice has everyone stopping. Quietening.

Even Cassian and Azriel cease their fighting. But they’re still exchanging harsh words that are compromised through split lips and mouthfuls of blood.

“Fucking vile—”

“I’m—sorry—Az—sorry—”

“That is enough.” Roza storms into the hall, a hand resting on her belly. She’s well and truly displaying the façade of the High Lord’s mate; someone not to be argued with. “Stand aside at once.”

If it weren’t for the serious nature of the situation, there might be something amusing about seeing honed Illyrian males slink back like threatened animals. But Rhys can only watch as they back away from Roza and lope back to their seats.

“Mother.” He turns to her, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have no idea what’s going on—”

Roza holds a hand up, cutting him off. She turns to Azriel and Cassian, who are now just staring at each other like sworn enemies.

“Off the fucking ground now.” She snaps.

Azriel’s eyes shutter. He’s breathing heavily. He hesitates, wants to go against the order.

But even through the red mist of anger, he respects Roza too much to do that.

Heaving a deep breath, he pushes off Cassian. Rises to his feet.

Roza jerks her chin at Cass. “Help him up.”

Azriel makes an incredulous sound. “He can get up himself—”

“Help him the fuck up, Azriel, before I bash your damn heads together.”

Az clenches his jaw. It might be childish that he refuses to look at Cassian as he juts a hand out, but he doesn’t fucking care. Nor does he care that he puts the bare minimum of strength into hauling him up off the floor.

As soon as Cass is on his feet, he’s shoving Azriel away from him.

“There are so many things I could say to you idiots right now.” Roza snaps. “But I’m way too pregnant for this shit, and I want to sit down.” She angles herself to Azriel. “You — go spend the night at the dormitories. Clean yourself up and calm down.” She turns back to Cassian, to Rhys. “The two of you are coming back to the cottage with me. I don’t give a shit about who said or did what. Don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

This is just a teensy bit humiliating — the three of them bowing their heads while they receive a scolding in front of their fellow Illyrians. But they’re not stupid enough to argue it.

They are stupid enough not to respond, though, and that only pisses Roza off more.

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” She thunders.

“Yes.” All three males intone.

“Good.” She steps back, nods at Azriel. “You first. Go. Dormitories. Now.”

Azriel sends one last, scathing glance at Cassian before stalking off. He limps out of the doors and into the snow — a fact that leaves Cassian feeling just a little smug.

“Get that damn look off your face, Cassian.” Roza narrows her eyes at him, and he quickly corrects himself. “And get moving. If you don’t get your asses back to the cottage this instant, I’m locking you out. Understood?”

Cassian says, “Yes, Roza.”

Rhys mumbles, “Didn’t even do anything.”

Roza looks at him like she wants to throttle him. And that’s enough for him to straighten himself out and offer his pregnant mother his arm. She takes it silently. Cassian moves to her other side.

“When we get back,” she says quietly, “the two of you better start explaining what the fuck has been going on in my absence.”

Neither males are exactly sure.

But they’re both wise enough not to say that.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The steaming bath is supposed to soothe you, but it does not. Nothing can. Not even Rhys’s sweater that’s currently swallowing you up and encasing you in his scent.

And when you traipse down the worn wooden staircase at the first sound of voices, you feel like crying all over again. You hope for Azriel — hope he’s come back, willing to hear you out. But stepping into the living area, that tiny shred of hope evaporates.

Conversation ceases, and Rhys and Cassian are looking up at you from their respective spots on the couch. Roza is pottering around the kitchen.

At the first glimpse of Cass, your heart drops.

It’s not that you’re unused to seeing him roughed up, but this is…this is different. He’s clearly not riding on the wave of his normal post-brawl adrenaline. He looks downtrodden, hurt — both physically and emotionally.

Blood streaks from his face. He’s cut and bruised in numerous places. A gnarly black eye is beginning to show itself.

He finds interest in his hands. Can’t seem to bear looking at you.

“What—” Is all you’re able to gasp out, before you’re hurrying over, perching yourself on the coffee table before your two friends. You reach out. “Cass…what—”

“Take a wild guess.” He mutters, still not looking at you.

You angle yourself towards Rhys, looking for an answer. And the fact that you can’t read his expression…it threatens to cut you open.

 “I don’t have a clue what’s going on.” He says with a shrug. “Clearly, nobody tells me anything.”

“Azriel did this.” You say quietly. It’s not a question.

“Yes. He did. Turned up at the mead hall and absolutely lost it.” Rhysand’s violet eyes flick between you and Cass. “And I’m guessing it has something to do with the two of you. Care to share?”

Your eyes shutter, because having to speak it aloud again might finish you off. But you suppose the worst has already happened. Azriel knows. You might as well share the truth with Rhys, also, and show him what a wretch you are.

You open your mouth, and unplanned words leave you in a rasp, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Rhys studies you. “Done what?”

“We slept together.” Cassian finally speaks, wiping a strip of blood from his chin. “Y/N and I.”

You can’t stop your eyes roving over to Roza in the kitchen. Even though she already knows, a bolt of shame hits you all over again that she has to be present for this. Not only does she have far more pressing matters to worry about, but you simply cannot bear it — of all people you’d hate to let down, it’s her.

And she may have her back to you as she busies herself in the kitchen, but you know damn well she’s listening to every word.

Rhysand purses his lips, and he sits back, folding his arms. “Why?

“It just happened.” Cass shrugs. “Night we went to Fenlaros. Y/N was upset after the fight broke out, and I was helping her, and it just…happened. I didn’t think there would be a problem, given that neither of us are tied to anyone, but apparently it is a problem. Honestly, Azriel has no damn right. He’s been busy with Kaeda for months—”

“Yeah, Cass, but we also know it’s not a straightforward situation.” Violet eyes dance over to you. Back to Cassian. “Surely you must have known that he—”

“No, I didn’t, because like I said,” Cassian snaps, “he has no fucking right. What reason does he have to be angry with either of us? We don’t owe him shit. Y/N is a grown female. If she wants to fuck any one of us, that’s entirely her choice. It isn’t for him to dictate—”

“I don’t disagree, but—”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s passing these judgements from his cushy little high horse that he’s been fucking Kaeda atop of. I should have fucking given him hell back there, but I didn’t—”

“There’s more to it than that.” You cut in, every word slicing at you. You lower your gaze as the two males turn to you. “There’s…there’s more to it than you realise.”

Cass eyes you. And usually, he would reassure you — tell you not to put the blame on yourself.

He doesn’t.

He knows, just from looking at you, that he can’t.

He grits out through his teeth, “What.”

“Az has a right to be angry.” Your hands shake as you drag them over your face. Your eyes are red raw and sore from all the crying you’ve already done. “Not at you, though, Cass. It’s me. I…I’ve been so stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

“Azriel and I were engaging in sexual stuff, too. Okay?” The admission comes barrelling out of you. “It wasn’t planned. He asked me for…for some help. With his confidence. One thing led to another, and he and I were doing certain things. We didn’t sleep together, but we did other stuff. And it was all intended to help him approach such things with more confidence, but then I realised I wanted more, but he was interested in Kaeda, and I was upset and jealous and I just…I’m sorry. To both of you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Utter silence.

Your friends stare at you. Even Roza turns around.

You think you’d prefer to be shouted at rather than this. They’re looking at you like…like they don’t know what to do with you, say to you, anymore.

And then Cassian laughs. Not humorously, but a bitter, soured laugh. He shakes his head. “So, what you’re saying was that you used me to forget about your feelings for Az?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I…it wasn’t like that. Not intentionally. You and I both know that what happened between us was impulsive…and unplanned…and it didn’t mean anything. It just happened—”

“Because you were upset about what happened in Fenlaros! You instigated the kiss! Am I to believe it was a coincidence that you did so after Azriel had just put on some valiant display of starting a fight over Kaeda?”

“Cassian.” Rhys warns quietly. “Don’t shout at her.”

“I told you,” Your voice is beginning to break, tears heating your eyes again, “that I was feeling shit about myself—”

Another brusque laugh, void of humour, cuts you off. “And what of earlier tonight?” Cassian demands. “When Roza walked in on me kneeled between your damn thighs. What led to that?”

“That is enough.” Roza stalks over, folding her arms. “I’ve been staying out of this so you can have an adult conversation, but I will not tolerate that disrespect under my roof. I won’t have you talking to Y/N like that, Cassian. Or any female for that matter.”

Cassian slumps back slightly, muttering a half-hearted apology. To Roza, not you.

But he has a point, doesn’t he? Having laid it all out to you like this.

You slept together because you were hurting and wanting to chase away your feelings. And he may have instigated what happened earlier tonight, but you reciprocated — because you wanted to chase away your feelings.

You used him. And the second you truly realise that fact, you feel sick to your stomach.

Tears drop into your lap as your eyes shutter. Shame is ravaging your body like a sickness. You wish you were somewhere, anywhere, else.

Wish you were someone, anyone, else.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and the words alone choke you up even more. “I am so sorry, Cass. I don’t—I shouldn’t have—”

You can’t get out whatever it is you want to say. The emotion is simply too much. A pain that is both mental and physical. It’ll eat away at you until you’re skin and bones. A husk of yourself.

There’s movement, and then someone is perching beside you. Wrapping an arm around you and tugging you into their side.

“Y/N…” Rhysand murmurs, resting his chin on your head. “Azriel should never have come to you for practice to use on another female. Why would you agree to that?”

You know precisely why. But you will not say it aloud again. Choking out those words to Roza was enough. They’ll only hurt even more.

You just cling to Rhys, and you cry harder.

And after a moment, it’s Cassian who’s sitting forward and answering Rhys’s question for you.

“Because you love him. Don’t you?” He’s so quiet. Painfully quiet. “You love Azriel.”

Yes, you want to scream at him, I love Azriel, and I wish I didn’t, because even if Kaeda didn’t exist, I would be the last person in the entirety of Prythian that he’d ever look at. Me with my ruined wings and broken soul. What do I have to offer? What could I ever give him that would be worth sticking around for?

But all you can manage is a soft cry. Rhys holds you tighter as your shoulders shake.

Roza takes the seat that he vacated, next to Cass. Her hand strokes over her belly. “Mistakes have clearly been made.” She speaks. “But believe me when I say that these things are not worth ruining such good friendships over. Ever. The bond that the four of you have is so, so special. Your love and support for each other is beautiful. And so, you may be angry at each other for a while, yes — but it’ll be okay. What you have is far bigger than anger. It’s love.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” You whisper. “I would never.”

A deep sigh leaves Cassian, and he’s leaning forward. “I know that. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

He shouldn’t be. You deserve it. Deserve worse.

“I still don’t think Azriel was justified.” He then says. “He’s being fucking irrational—”

“Yeah, well, he just needs to calm down.” Roza cuts him off. “You all do.”

“And stop sleeping with each other.” Rhys adds. “Definitely don’t do that again.”

Cassian’s response is a mumble, “No danger of that.”

You can only manage to shake your head in response. You’re so very, very tired.

Roza seems to read that on your face. “I think we should all head to bed. Y/N, Rhys, you both go on up while I see to Cassian’s injuries.”

You don’t need telling twice. As Rhysand pulls you up, he damn near supports your whole body weight. It’s like you’re boneless, slumping against him. Exhaustion suddenly smothers you and threatens to drag you down to the floor.

But as Rhys drags you past the couch, a hand catches yours. Encloses around it.

Cassian stares up at you. Looks beaten down and tired and hurt. But he squeezes your hand and says softly, “Love you, sweetpea.”

You run the risk of breaking all over again just by opening your mouth, but you have to get the words out. You swallow down a lump and tamp down on a sob, and you just about manage to return, “Love you too, Cass.”

His answering smile is weak, but he kisses your hand and let’s go. And then Rhys is pulling you towards the stairs.

You don’t deserve a friend like Cassian — someone who can be utterly furious with you but will still break through that anger to tell you he loves you, because you need to hear it. He’s so golden. More valued than he will ever realise.

And Rhysand is, too, as he supports you on every step of the staircase. His arms are firm around you, strong. He’s not letting you fall, even as he stops outside of the bedroom that you always share with Az.

“Will you stay with me, Rhys?” You find your hands bunching the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him with shameful desperation. “Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you, and then he’s nodding resolutely. “Of course, I will.”

The smile you manage to give him is watery and unconvincing, but you force it, anyway. You turn, opening the door — until Rhys stops you. Your tired eyes glance over your shoulder in question.

And the mischief that’s on his face is so normal, so Rhys, that it actually makes you feel better. That look he gets when he’s about to say or do something that’ll earn him a slap up the side of his head. One half of his mouth tilts up, and his eyes are glimmering.

“Out with it.” You say blandly.

“Just don’t make a move on me, okay?” He grins. “Let’s not go for three out of three.”

You scowl, stalk into the bedroom, but in all honesty, you appreciate the humour. It’s far better than the hurt.

And Rhys knows that — which is precisely why he made the effort to crack a joke at all.

When you’re tucked up in bed beside him, his scent and body heat lulling you to sleep, you find his hand beneath the covers and give it a gentle squeeze.

And like always, he squeezes back.

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There’s a new crack in the ceiling.

There were six the last time Azriel counted. A seventh one now cuts a jagged line that zigzags directly over his bed.

This bed, in this room, in these dormitories.

This bed, that Y/N sucked his cock in. That he kissed Kaeda on. With the lumpy mattress and scratchy blankets.

Azriel fucking hates this bed.

He hasn’t slept a wink all night.

He knows that morning must have arrived, because people are walking the halls and readying themselves for training and talking too loudly. Az would usually have been up before all of them, already out there training in the harsh cold. But this morning, he doesn’t move an inch. It has nothing to do with the good few punches that Cassian managed to get in during their fight. If anything, Az relishes the discomfort.

Y/N and Cassian fucked. It’s all he can think about. Plays on a constant loop in his head. The truth is an oily one.

And with that truth comes further truths. Realisations.

The first — that after a night of lying awake and turning it over in his mind, he’s not sure he even has a right to be mad.

Y/N owes him nothing. Cassian owes him nothing. Their choice to lose themselves in each other’s bodies should make no difference to Azriel whatsoever. No promises have been made — aside of Y/N’s agreement to help him build his confidence. And that was a favour. Nothing more.

But those two words — nothing more — keep bringing Azriel to his second realisation. One he’s so fucking stupid for not realising until now, when it’s too late.

It was more — to him. Right from that very first kiss in the mead hall, when heat had surged his veins and he’d been left wanting more, more, more. It was that want, that carnal desire, that had had him coming straight back for further experiences with her. It was easy to say it was all about practice. Easy to pretend it wasn’t the terrifying thing it was. Easy to deny the truth.

Right from that very first kiss, he wanted Y/N.

Wanted to keep kissing her. To touch her. To have her touch him. He didn’t want to experience those things with anybody else, and he didn’t want her to want anybody else, selfish as that may be. That need had overtaken him after one fucking kiss, and he should have realised it there and then.

It was why he’d reacted to Jonan’s flirting the way he had. Why he’d lost his shit in Fenlaros, when Thedis had been ready to drag Y/N off to a shaded alcove and fuck her senseless.

It was why, no matter how damn hard he tried, he couldn’t generate that same desire with Kaeda. Kaeda was not Y/N.

And Y/N was everywhere he looked. In everything he felt. Her heart and her beauty and her laughter and her damn good soul. Her strength. Gods, that unwavering strength.

And that was why he’d reacted so damn irrationally — because he wanted Y/N, and it was his own fucking fault that she’d fallen into the arms of someone else.

He sits up in bed, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to go to training today, doesn’t want to face anyone—

But a knock lands on the door, and he tamps down on the urge to tell whoever it is to fuck right off.

“Azriel?” Kaeda’s voice comes from the other side. “I know you’re in there.”

He heaves a deep, long sigh.

He really, really does not want to face Kaeda right now, of all people.

But she knocks again, and he finds himself kicking his sheets away in pure frustration and stalking towards the door. He almost yanks it off the hinges.

Kaeda takes in the sight of him, a pinched expression on her face. “You look like shit.”

Azriel really doesn’t have the patience for this right now. His voice is cold, flat, as he bites out, “Why are you in Windhaven.”

“I came looking for you to see if you’d given any thought to my offer, and I found out you’ve been brawling with Cassian.” She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his bruised cheek. “What happened?”

“It was nothing.”

“Clearly.” Sarcasm laces her tone. She rubs her arms. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

The last thing he wants is anyone in his space. And he should stand his ground, tell her that. But he silently steps aside.

Kaeda breezes in, tucking her wings in tight. She turns to face Az and folds her arms over her chest. “Well?”

Azriel kicks the door shut. “Well, what?”

“What of my offer?”

Her offer is the furthest thing from his thoughts. How can he think about a life in Fenlaros when his life in Windhaven is such a colossal fuck up? Not to mention he would never make such decisions without consulting his friends — his family — first—

But things with his friends aren’t in such a good place right now.

“You dumped all of that on me not even twenty-four hours ago.” He points out. “I can’t just come up with an answer for you.”

“What we’re trying to do is important, Azriel—”

“I have other things going on right now. Alright?” He snaps. “Your father’s vision is not my priority.”

Kaeda stills, balling her fists. “What things? Something to do with why you were fighting with Cassian, I presume.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Kaeda.” He pivots, turns his back to her. “I just…need some space.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Az thinks that perhaps she’ll actually listen and leave.

But then he feels movement behind him, and Kaeda’s front is pressing to his back. Her arms wrap around him. He tenses.

“I’m sorry for pushing you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

Az’s eyes shutter. Her touch feels wrong. All wrong.”

“Azriel.” She whispers, and those hands travel lower, towards the waistband of the low-slung cotton trousers that hang from his hips. “I can make you feel better.”

The second those fingers begin to slide beneath the waistband, he’s launching himself out of her arms. Stumbling back against the wall.

“No.” He breathes. “I—can’t.”

Kaeda stares at him. Purses her lips. “Why?”

Because you are not Y/N. You’re not her. You’re not, and never have been, who I want.

“I just…need to be alone.” Is all he manages to get out. “You…you need to go.”

The expression on Kaeda’s face tells him just how rarely anyone asks her to leave. He feels rude, and brusque, and unkind.

He can’t bring himself to care.

“…Fine.” The tone of her voice suggests that it absolutely isn’t fine. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin. “I’ll go.”

Az inclines his head. “Thank you.”

She strides towards the door, coldness rippling off her. And when she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she turns.

“When you’re ready to stop being such a fucking coward,” she levels him a look, “you know where you can find me.”

Azriel doesn’t bother replying.

He climbs back into bed. And he relishes in the sound of the door clicking shut.

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“You’re sure you want to do this today?”

Outside the chipped wooden door of your father’s house a day later, you’re frozen on the spot. Your breath clouds in front of your face, and you wish you’d accepted the coat that Rhys had offered you before leaving.

It’s tempting to turn around and go back to the cottage. Warm yourself by the fire. Hopefully fall asleep and avoid the pain in your heart, at least for a little while.

But you know that now is the right time to do this. Your father will be hard at work in his forge, and you’re free to gather your belongings and turn your back on that hollow home for good. At least it’ll keep you occupied for a while.

So you turn to Roza, and you nod. “I’m sure.”

“I still don’t think you should be doing this alone.” She eyes you cautiously. “Why don’t I send Rhys to help?”

“I’m fine, Roz, honestly. I think…I think I’ll appreciate the space.”

The space to cry and cry without anyone smothering you. You appreciate the love and support over the last twenty-four hours, you do — but being under the same roof as Cass…not knowing what Azriel might be doing, thinking, feeling…it’s all a bit too much.

So, yes, you’ll appreciate the breathing space.

Roza seems to finally recognise that. She nods. “Alright. I’ll come back for you in an hour.”

You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, and then you’re turning and ripping the bandaid off before you can talk yourself out of it.

The house is as dark and dingy as it always has been. It smells musty. It feels soulless.

You step in and shut the door behind you, and you’re suddenly faced with every bad memory that has ever played out there. The shadow of your child self skitters around on bare, dirty feet, scrambling to get the fire lit, the dinner cooked.

The walls are painted with the hateful, malicious words that your father has spat over the years. Some of them have been punched in his many fits of anger.

This place will always be suffocating and evil. It will always shrink you back down to that tiny, terrified child who just wanted love.

You wrap your arms around yourself and drag your feet through to your bedroom. It’s just as it was before you left. Never feeling personal nor lived in. Certainly never feeling safe.

But you try to block all of that out and focus on what you came here for. The silence is welcomed, despite every little creak and bang putting you on edge, filling you with dread that your father might have returned home early. If you had to face a confrontation with him right now, you wouldn’t have the strength to defend yourself. You’d roll over at the first blow of vitriol.

And so, when you hear the sure sound of the door rattling open, your heart plummets. You freeze, hands bunching the tunic you were folding. Clear, confident footsteps approach.

Azriel appears in the doorway, and you don’t know what to do.

Perhaps facing your father would be easier right now.

He stares at you, his expression guarded. Where he would usually allow you to read his emotions, he wears a cool, flat exterior that even your keen awareness of him cannot get past. It’s deliberate — an act of self-preservation.

It makes you want to cry, just realising that he feels the need to do that around you. He never has before.

“What are you doing here?” You rasp, clearing a lump from your throat. “I thought…I mean…I would have come to find you, but I thought you needed space.”

Az nods. “I do.” He says. “I’m not…not ready to talk about anything yet.”

“Then why—”

“I made you a promise a long time ago.” He steps closer, stares at you in a way that is…quiet. You notice the dark smudges that sit beneath his eyes as he continues, “I made you a promise that I would be there for you, no matter what. And I didn’t keep that promise on Solstice, but I’m keeping it now. Even if I’m not ready to confront things yet…I won’t let you face this alone.”

After twenty-four hours of tears, you were certain you’re all cried out.

But tears fill your eyes again, and you feel like the broken pieces of your heart are breaking even more.

Azriel knows, better than anybody, how difficult it is for you to come back to this house. To face so many of the demons that you fought against with him by your side. He knows that you may have told Roza that you were fine, that you could do it alone, but you’re not, and you can’t.

You never wanted to do this alone. You just didn’t want to do it with anyone but Azriel.

And despite being hurt, and angry, and confused…he’s here.

“How did you…” You clear your throat again. “How did you know?”

“Was flying above. Saw you with Roza.” He strides further into the room and goes straight to one of the drawers in your dresser. “Are you taking everything?”

You’re still a little stunned, but you manage a nod. Your everything is, in fact, not much at all.

Az begins to fold your clothes and sort them into piles. He’s completely silent. Doesn’t even look at you. But a shadow reaches out and tickles your arm.

There’s so much you want to say to him. You also just want to throw your arms around him. Apologise, and apologise, and apologise.

But you’ll always respect his boundaries. He isn’t ready. So you return to the task and work just as silently as he is.

It’s a little while later, when he’s moved on to your small gathering of keepsakes, that he speaks again.

“Do you want to take this?” He turns to you.

In his hand is the little wooden owl carving he made for your thirteenth birthday. The damned thing has seen you shed so many tears, stayed clutched in your palm through so many nightmares. Never will you ever part with it.

“Always.” You answer quietly. “I’ll always take it wherever I go.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and then he nods. Tucks the trinket into the pocket of your satchel. You watch the entire thing with a gaping wound in your heart.

“Az?” You murmur, and he glances at you over your shoulder. “…Thank you…”

His eyes catch yours again, and then he’s dipping his chin. “I made you a promise.” He says again.

You don’t speak another word to each other after that.

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As soon as you’re finished, Azriel is taking to the skies once more. He doesn’t bid you goodbye.

Roza appears almost immediately, and she takes in your scant belongings with a pitying look.

“Come, little dove.” She reaches for your bag. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

“Let me carry that, Roz.” You say. “You’re pregnant. And the cottage isn’t far—”

But your words cut off when, with a wave of her hand, she’s spiriting all of your belongings away, into thin air. You cock an eyebrow.

“We’re not going back to the cottage.” She says. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes