#sorry for giving him a nose again it will happen again

[7s3ven]

RETIRED BOXER! SIMON RILEY X BOXER! FEM! READER

( head canons / short one shot )

Notes: a little bloody, age gap (reader is younger), parental issues, cussing

- Simon expected that once he quit boxing and left his career behind him, he would never have to deal with it again. He assumed wrong. He was called back by an old friend, John Price

“I know she doesn’t look like much but trust me, she packs a punch. She’s just like you.” John slid a picture of you forward, showing Simon your bright grin. How could a girl like you be as ruthless as he had heard in the news?

Simon knew what they called you; the female version of Ghost.

- During his prime, Simon was a merciless fighter. He was known for destroying his opponents to a pulp and apparently, you borrowed his methods

- “Come back, Simon. The boxing world misses ya. Don’t you miss it too? Come back and I promise yer, I’ll you the most famous trainer this club has ever seen.” John ambitiously stated, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Trainer?” Simon questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“You train ‘er,” John tapped your photograph, “And you’ll go down in history.”

- It didn’t take much to convince Simon to return. All he needed to see was you train and he agreed in a heartbeat

- He watched you carefully as you sparred with a teammate. It was supposed to be a mock fight but you were treating it like it was real. Beads of sweat dripped down your neck as you moved without even thinking. You were on a hunt for blood

- Simon saw your eyes light up as your fist connected with your teammate’s nose. Blood dripped down, staining their teeth. But instead of kneeling down and sobbing, they smiled

- “Only the crazy ones go up against her. We have ‘ta put out a warning that if you spar with Y/N, she’ll make ya bleed.” John states. “So, what’da ya think?”

It took Ghost a moment to reply. He slowly nodded his head. “Okay. I’ll train her.”

John whistled, beckoning you over like a damn dog. Through, in the arena, that’s all you really were.

- You were excited to be paired with Simon, aka Ghost. You had watched his fights in your late teenager years. He was an absolute legend

- Despite Simon being a little annoyed John managed to drag him back into boxing, he soon overcame it while spending time with you

- You understood his advice that no one else could. He wanted you to punch harder? You did so until your knuckles split and Simon had to patch you up. He wanted you to practice your kicks? Say no more, you spend all night practicing.

- He wanted you to perfect your signature move? No problem. He just has to be prepared to find you slumped in the corner of the training arena the next day because you refused to leave until you got it perfect

- The line between trainer and trainee blurs when Simon gives you his number in case of emergencies. You call later that night.

“We’re out of Doritos!” You yell into the phone. Simon furrows his brows in confusion, rechecking your contact name.

“Wot?” He mutters in confusion.

He hears you mumble to yourself as you check the number you had dialled. And then you’re back on the line. “Sorry, sir. Wrong number. Meant to call my roommate.”

“You still want Doritos? I got some at my place.”

You pause before speaking again. “You got any Coco Cola?” Simon loudly hums. “I’m on my way.”

- You didn’t fight fair but Simon liked that about you. You bit and scratched like a feral animal and nobody ever punished you for it because you were the crowd’s favourite. And you just so happened to have another favourite as your esteemed trainer. Simon only had to wave his hand and the charges against you for clawing at a girl’s face during a match would be dropped

- It’s not like you meant to develop a crush on your trainer. It just… happened. He was an attractive man and you were only human

- You had the stupid idea of confiding in Jonny, another trainer whom you had formed a close bond with. You expected him to keep his mouth shut but little did you know, he had a knack for blabbing

- Everything fell to shit the day you collapsed. You were a living, breathing replica of Simon but that also meant you overworked yourself. You didn’t remember much of what happened that day

- You had just gotten out of the ring, victorious and listening to the crowd cheer. You remembered how your chest ached and yet you ignored it. The match was difficult which explained the way your legs wobbled in exhaustion

- Your lips were cracked and stinging and bloody spit coated your face. You looked and felt absolutely disgusting. But you didn’t have a chance to clean your face before black dots invaded your vision and it got harder to breathe

- You remember how your head hit the concrete but everything after that was an unknown blur

- You were sitting on the rooftop after being discharged by the hospital when Simon approached you.

“Kid.”

Your jaw clenched at the wretched name. That was all he saw you as; a kid who no longer had any idea what she was fighting for. “Don’t call me that.”

“Y/N.” He corrects himself and it makes you feel a little better. “You want out of the ring? Just say the word and I’ll get yer out.”

- Simon expected you to be like him. To realize that boxing was useless without passion. But when you turned to look at him, he saw the fury in your eyes.

“I ain’t quitting, sir. I don’t quit.”

“I know you had problems with your parents. They pushed you to do things you didn’t wanna. You don’t have ‘ta do this if ya don’t want to.”

“Don’t wanna fuckin’ talk ‘bout them. You ain’t my therapist.” You were more hostile than usual thanks to the stitches in your lips.

- “Kid.” The word just slips and Simon doesn’t have enough time to take it back.

“Call me that one more fucking time!” You exclaim, “I ain’t your fucking kid! I don’t want ‘cha to be my daddy!”

- Something clicks in Simon’s head as he remembers Jonny’s drunken words during a pool match. Jonny told Simon about your crush, unintentionally outing you. No wonder you were staring at him with so much pent-up rage. You were sick of this ‘will they, won’t they’ game

- “Y/N.” He states firmly, “I know how you feel about me. Jonny ain’t exactly good at keepin’ his mouth shut.”

“If you’re gonna reject me, hurry up. I don’t got all day.” He watches as you scowl, so quick to jump to conclusions.

“Who said I was gon’ reject you?”

“The way you’re looking at me right now says it.”

“This is literally my resting face.”

- Simon isn’t good at expressing any emotion whatsoever. But the way you make him feel is different. You brought his love for boxing back

- Before your trip to the hospital, you trained daily per Simon’s request. You thought it was so he could monitor you better. In reality, he just wanted to see you more frequently. He liked the way you laughed and the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled

- “Three words, Y/N. Say ‘I like you’ and I’m yours.”

Simon knows how prideful you are. You won’t repeat after him unless you really mean it.

“I like you.” Surprisingly, you say it. You’re playing with the hem of your knitted sweater and Simon almost laughs at how ironic it is

- You’re one of the most feared boxers currently, always lusting for blood, and Simon has you like putty without even touching you

- You don’t need to speak for Simon to know what you’re indicating now. You want him to kiss you. So he does

- He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours and you swear you feel fireworks go off

- From then on, the line between trainer and trainee ceases to exist. A week later, a picture of you and Simon kissing after your latest match makes headlines

- “Was this all a hoax to get me a date?” Simon grunts before taking a small sip of his tea.

“Yup.” John shamelessly confesses, “So, how’s my matchmaking skills?”

“Fucking shit.”

“Hm. Didn’t seem too bad when I saw you and your lady kissin’ in the hallway.”

“Don’t watch us make out, yer creep.”

“Then don’t make out where I can see it. I walk that route every single day. I don’t wanna see the two of you exchanging saliva.”

[quietstormxr]

More than Worthy - Clueless Girl - Pt 2

Bodhi Durran x Reader

Angst, Fluff

Requested Part 2 to Clueless Girl

Summary: There's no time for holding yourself back anymore.

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: Swearing, some Fourth Wing Spoilers

As your awareness returns, you can’t help but squint your eyes at the staunch white that is burning your eyelids. Next, you notice the pungent smell of antiseptic and healing herbs assaulting your nostrils. You scrunch your nose as you slowly begin to blink your eyes open. 

When you can finally open your eyes fully and focus, you scan the room. You see a chair that has been pulled by the bed, but it is currently empty. Your brows furrow in confusion trying to piece back together the last day or so. 

How did I end up here?

‘Gentle One.’ You hear as a soft voice stirs in your mind, Ezzonth.

‘What happened Ezzonth?’ You question trying to piece everything together in your mind. 

Before your dragon has a chance to remind you, there are muffled voices talking from outside the door.

“You’ve been here long enough Bodhi. You can’t miss any more classes while waiting on her to recover.” You hear a male voice state with a sense of command.

With your fuzzy mind, it’s hard for you to try and piece together who is speaking, but obviously it must be someone from leadership and Bodhi.

“Why?” You hear another voice question with a snarky tone. You assume it must be Bodhi. “How long did you sit around waiting for Violet to wake up after the fight with Barlowe?”

You furrow your brows. Fight? Is that why you’re in the Infirmary?

“That’s not the same thing. Your life isn’t tied to hers. Besides, I thought you said she was just a clueless girl.”

With that last sentence everything whirs back into place, like all the puzzle pieces arranging themselves correctly. It must be Bodhi and Xaden outside the door. As you start to panic at the thought of having to come face to face with Bodhi, one of the healers walks into the room to check on you.

The man in front of you gives you a small smile. “Glad to see you’re finally awake. Your boyfriend has been sitting here the last two days waiting for you to wake up.” 

Your eyebrows immediately shoot up at the realization that you’ve been laying in the infirmary for two days. A second later, what the healer said hits you in the face.

“Actually,” you say hesitantly. “That guy isn’t my boyfriend. Is there any way that you can make him leave without letting him know I’m awake?”

The healer must sense that there is an underlying story to your request, but he just shakes his head in agreement.

“Of course I can.” He says calmly. “I’ll just get both of them to leave and then I’ll come back and check on you, okay?”

You nod your head back and mumble a quick thanks before you’re watching him walk back out the door. You strain to hear what he says over the cacophony of sounds in the infirmary.

“I’m sorry to you both, but I must ask you to leave.” He starts before you hear the shuffle of two sets of feet.

“Why? Is she awake?” You hear Bodhi and you watch the door incredulously at the hopeful tone that he takes.

“No, she’s not. But we need to check her over and you won’t be able to come back in for a while. Why don’t you head to classes, and you can return again this evening after dinner.” You can almost see Bodhi’s face in your mind’s eye in how he will want to say no. 

“Come on Bodhi.” You hear Xaden coax. “You can come check on her again later.” 

As you hear him talking, you see the shadows at the end of the bed begin to shift. As if a light is turned on, you immediately reach for Ezzonth’s power and build up a shield around yourself and strengthen your mental shields. The last thing you want right now is to have Xaden bursting through the door to mock you or look down on you.

Soon enough, you watch as the shadows seem to settle back on the floor into their natural shape. You inhale deeply and try to calm your racing heart. 

Gods, when did everything become so fucking complicated?

The healer comes back in and begins to ask you questions and check your current vital signs. 

“Although the blade went through your side, it just barely nicked your kidney. You’re very lucky.” He says looking over everything.

“You were also lucky that the guy that’s fretting over you got here so fast and demanded you see Nolon. If he would’ve been five minutes later, you may not have made it.” He says looking at you seeming to ask a question you know you aren’t going to answer. 

You just shake your head back to him as you continue to listen. With Nolon’s mending, the reason you were out for two days was due to the amount of blood you lost. The healer turns you to your side and you look back to see a new five-inch scar slicing through your side.  You shrug your shoulders at the revelation and move to try and sit up. 

Your head swims momentarily with black dots dancing in your vision, but soon enough it all dissipates. 

“Am I clear to go back to my room while everyone is in classes?” You ask hoping that you can get to the safety of your room before you run into anyone. 

“I just need to check with the Head Healer, but I believe you should be good to go. Give me about five minutes.” He turns to leave but before making it completely out the door he turns.

“Are you sure you want to leave before that guy comes back to check on you?”

You can’t help the glare that marks your face at the questioning of your decisions. The healer must take that as a warning and doesn’t press further while continuing out of the room. 

Soon enough you’ve been cleared with instructions to continue to rest for the next four days in your room. The healers had confirmed that someone from their quadrant would be by to check on you three times a day with meals as well. 

Confident that you’d get four more days of avoiding all your problems, you begin your trek back to your room. Fortunately, there is class for another thirty minutes so there aren’t any riders currently milling about. You take this as the blessing it is thanking Zinhal and swiftly make your way back to your room and shut the door making sure your wards are still in place. 

Once inside the safety of your room, you let out a sigh of relief. However, it is short lived when you start to think everything over in the quiet of your room. 

Since when did you become the scared girl that couldn’t face her fears again? Were you really going to let a comment from a guy be the reason that you wilted back in on yourself?

The more and more you let your brain wonder, the more indignant you became at the thought that someone could control how you perceived yourself.

‘This is what I chose you for, Gentle One. You are my rider, and you are more than worthy.’ Ezzonth purrs at you.

With that reminder from your dragon, you let a plan begin to formulate in your head before drifting off to sleep. 

Unfortunately, your rest is interrupted about an hour later by heavy knocks on your door. As you slowly regain your consciousness from sleep you register that someone is talking along with the annoyingly loud knocking.

“Y/N, Love.” You hear someone call. “Please answer the door. Please.”

You rapidly blink your eyes and try to shake yourself awake. You realize that all the blood loss you suffered from the spar is still making you sluggish. As you are finally able to get yourself to rise from your bed, you slowly shuffle over to the door. Before opening it, you rest your arm on the wall and your head follows leaning against it. You drag in a few more deep breaths as you hear three more heavy knocks on your door.

“Please Lo –” The voice cuts off as you draw open the door slightly to be met with worried deep brown eyes. 

Still groggy from being woken up, your mind doesn’t seem to want to process the sight in front of you. 

Finally, your brain seems to catch up again and you slap yourself mentally when you realize that you’ve just opened the door for Bodhi. Narrowing your eyes in a glare, you go to close the door again when you’re stopped by Bodhi’s arm.

“Go away Bodhi.” You snap in a tired voice.

“No, please let me in. Let me talk to you please. What happened? What’s the matter?” He says in rapid succession, his tone rising with the panic shining in his eyes. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” You say in a deadpanned tone, letting your eyes go cold. 

“Why love? Please talk to me.” Bodhi repeats as you can see the terror in his eyes begin to rise and his hand reaching out for you.

“Do NOT call me that.” You hiss out at him while backing up a step. Without thinking it over much in your mind, you continue. “Why don’t you go find some other ‘clueless girl’ to be your love, because you’ve lost your chance with me.”

You continue to watch with cold eyes as your venomous words finally seem to find their mark. Bodhi’s eyes blow wide with continued panic and his arm that was holding the door open falls back down to his side. Soon enough, you watched sorrow and regret find his features, but that was the last thing you saw before you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door was closed, your back was to the door, and you let yourself sink to the floor. Even though you wanted to forget Bodhi for his callous words, you couldn’t help the way your heart would leap when he called you love.

As promised, for the next four days you were visited by a healer and brought meals to your room. A few of your friends and squad mates had visited throughout the days, but mercifully Bodhi seemed to get the message and didn’t return. 

As the day came for you to return to classes, you solidified your plan in your mind. No longer would you let anyone think you were something to play with or someone to walk over. Some people knew of your previous history and lineage in the rider’s quadrant, but most were ignorant. 

With this ignorance, you relished the looks that were sent your way when you entered back into formation after finally being cleared. You had brought out your leathers from home that molded perfectly to your curves, showing off the ways in which you had honed your body that the Central Issue leathers just didn’t do. Your flight jacket was tailored to your body in a cut that accentuated all your features.

To top your new look off, you pulled out the two short swords that you excelled at from the back of your armoire and now walked with them strapped to your back. With your hair now secured in braids, you confidently walked to the courtyard and took your place with your squad. 

As you turned, you smirked at the disbelieving looks on your friends faces. So far, none of them had seen you fully dressed out, weapons and all. 

“Damn L/N. What happened to our quiet little squad member?” Nico, one of the guys in your squad, teased. 

You look over at your squad member and give a devious smirk. Something about everyone’s reactions has your confidence soaring even though you aren’t usually the one to want this attention. Before entering the quadrant, you had told yourself you’d keep your head down and wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. However, after the events of the past few weeks, you knew that just wasn’t going to work any longer.

“No kidding, you look hella dangerous with those swords.” Iona calls from your right. 

You smile back at her knowingly. Iona was the only one who knew that you were proficient in short swords since you both would spar at odd times for practice and learning new moves.

“Quiet and standard weren’t getting me anywhere, so now its time to really show the quadrant who I am.” You tease back to your squad mates.

“You’re certainly showing the quadrant something in those leathers.” Cain says from behind you. 

You turn around and watch as the only third year in your squad looks at you up and down appraisingly. You give him your best seductive smile before you turn your attention back towards the front of the dais. 

As you look up, you can see Xaden looking you over from where the wingleaders are standing on the dais. You raise your chin high and hold yourself still under his scrutiny. But you’re rewarded when you realize he can’t seem to stop from appraising you either. Before you know it, formation is over, and you are walking in between your squad mates to your first class. 

Before you make it to the door, you spot Bodhi standing in the hallway further down waiting at the door of the next classroom. You watch as his body goes taut as a bow string as you get closer to him, but he isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the others that are still staring at you appreciatively. You watch as his hands clench into fists so hard his knuckles turn white and threaten to tear from the hold he has them in across his chest. 

“Is there a reason Durran is looking like he’s going to murder the entire quadrant?” Iona whispers in your ear. 

You look back at her with a delighted smirk on your face before replying. “It’s probably because he and I are no longer a thing.”

Iona pulls back and looks at you with raised brows. “When did that happen? And what happened?”

“He had some choice words for his cousin that I overheard.” You converse nonchalantly. “They weren’t something that you would say if you really were interested in someone.”

You left it like that as you walked towards the doorway of your classroom. But before you entered, you took one last look at Bodhi who was now staring directly at you. The conflict in his eyes was palpable. You could see that he was at war with himself on whether to come up to you. Fortunately, before you would have to make the decision to talk to him or not, Nico came up behind you and slung his arm on your lower back leading you into the classroom.

You looked up at him and gave him a wide, knowing smile. He had obviously heard what you had told Iona. 

“Just making sure you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.” He whispers in your ear as you both walk through the doorway and take your seats.

It’s been days since you’ve been wearing your new leathers and swords and it was as if you had just entered the quadrant. Everywhere you turned, there was someone you’d never spoken to trying to get your attention. It wasn’t all good though, some of the comments you heard directly challenged your competency and if the swords at your back were real or not. Some were convinced a ‘girl like you’ would never be able to wield swords like that in a challenge.

But of all the attention you received, both good and bad, the one you enjoyed playing with the most was Bodhi. Watching him squirm as you talked to other guys and even some of the girls gave you more pleasure than you cared to admit to yourself.

Deep down though, you knew it wouldn’t ever go to more than friendly flirting. You weren’t in the business of breaking hearts or giving someone too much hope where there was none. You weren’t going to let someone get their heart broken by you, like what Bodhi had done to you. 

Realizing that things weren’t going to change overnight, you decided that you needed a little flight practice for some fresh air. You had been practicing with Ezzonth on different dismounts since your flight lessons with your squad seemed just boring drills for the both of you.  Skipping dinner sometimes and going to the kitchens later meant you could fly while it was still light and enjoy the freedom without being hampered by others in your class. 

‘Ready to try the rolling dismount again?’ You questioned Ezzonth.

Without directly replying, you felt as Ezzonth began to accelerate and angle for the perfect advantage to dismount. You got up from your seat and steadily made your way to Ezzonth’s shoulder, as you saw the ground rush in towards you, you jumped. As you felt yourself tumble down her leg, you braced yourself to keep running forward. 

When your feet hit the ground, you felt yourself accelerate before very slowly coming to a stop several meters from where you originally landed. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up and taking a deep breath while a self-satisfied smile stole across your face.

“You should come show the third years how its done.” You hear a deep voice call out from behind you. 

You turn quickly and bring your hands to your swords.

“Woah, woah. No need for weapons, I was just trying to give you a compliment.” The deep voice rumbles with a slight chuckle. 

You finally take the time to register the person in front of you. There’s no mistaking the dark hair and hazel eyes of the immensely muscular man in front of you, Garrick. 

You give him a sarcastic smile back and turn to walk away from the Section Leader.

“Oh, come on, not even anything snarky to say back?” He continues to tease you. 

“Nothing in particular to say to you, Section Leader.” You snap.

“No, is it all of us Rebellion kids or just Bodhi you’re icing out?”

You completely stop in your tracks, the rush of blood filling your ears as your fury rises. Why should you be blamed when you were the one that was made to be a fool by them?

‘Ezzonth.’ You bite out to your dragon.

‘Coming, Gentle One.’ She replies.

You stand there rooted to the ground and glare at the Section Leader in front of you, trying to get your anger to an acceptable level. Once you feel slightly in control of yourself, you step up to the hulking Section Leader.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Garrick.” You spit bitterly at him. “But when you hear people say you aren’t worth anyone’s time and you’re just a pretty thing to bed, you tend to shut people out. If you don’t believe me, just go ask your boss and his cousin.”

As if perfectly on cue, you hear the wingbeats of your dragon above your head. You continue to watch Garrick as his brows furrow in confusion at your words. With a practiced maneuver, you sling your shield in a rope around Ezzonth’s neck as he begins to ascend. Eventually you are yanked from the spot in front of the Section Leader and to your dragon’s back. 

‘Hold your ears, Ezzonth.’ You demand.

As soon as you are far enough from the flight field, you let out a frustrated scream into the air at the absolute rage that boils inside of you. You can’t help the indignance that laces your veins at the feeling these men think you are something to be toyed with.

You spend the rest of the night in a cave on one of the snow-covered peaks not far from Basgiath. Ezzonth curled up in front of the entrance as you sit back in the cold cavern and try to get your thoughts together. 

You thought you’d pushed past the harsh words the Wingleader and Bodhi had said, but after that display you know that you have obviously not. 

Soon enough, you are watching the sun rise past the scales of your dragon. You try to let the peace of the cavern settle you as you take several deep breaths.

‘Let’s get back to Basgiath.’ You say softly to Ezzonth, hoping that your dragon knows how grateful you are for her.

As you move towards her leg, she brings her head down and knocks you with her maw. You give her a gentle smile and hug her nose.

‘Thank you for everything.’ You whisper quietly knowing there is no way to possibly convey what you mean with just words. 

‘You are mine, Gentle One. You are my priority.’ Warmth spreads through your chest at Ezzonth’s words. 

As you land back on the flight field and head towards the tunnel to get back to the main campus, you feel the sensation that someone else is there.

You summon a mage light, and your eyes blow wide at the sight in front of you. There’s an infantry cadet that has a rider in their grasp, but their head is covered by a black bag. The only thing you can tell is that the body is female.

Without thinking too much about it, you unsheathe the two swords strapped to your back and brace into a fighting stance.

“Drop her.” You command with a lethal edge. “I’ll only give you one chance.”

The infantry cadet laughs seeming to think that his larger size will be enough to overpower you. You’re ready for him though when he goes to attack after dropping the rider to the ground. 

You let him walk towards you so that whoever that is won’t get caught in the crossfire between the two of you. The guy lunges towards your right side, which is a mistake on his part. As he tries to grab for the sword in your right hand, you drag your left hand up the side of his leg. He hisses in pain as a gash is left down the side of his calf, you know this isn’t a mortal blow, but it will sting and unsteady his stance. 

With a frustrated growl he unsheathes a long sword and tries to swing across your neck. You’re waiting for the move and parry his strike by bringing both swords to your left. With his sword stuck in between yours, you lever it and knock his from his hands. Without stopping, you twist yourself around and slice him through the back. 

Unfortunately, the death blow doesn’t stop him as he grabs a dagger and slices down your upper arm. However, as you push him off your blade, you know that he only has mere moments. You close your eyes as the heavy iron scent of blood fills your lungs, along with the same lead feeling you get any time you have taken a life.

‘You did what was necessary.’ Ezzonth confirms in your mind. 

You let yourself have a second as a wave of nausea roils through your system. After you’ve taken several deep breaths, you walk over to the rider that is lying on the floor and hasn’t flinched throughout the whole fight. 

You slowly drop to your knees in front of the girl and take off the bag that was obscuring her face. Your eyes blow wide as you stare down at the girl in front of you.

Imogen.

Her face is bruised, and she is clearly unconscious, but from what exactly, you are unsure. You take a fortifying breath before you squat down and pull both of her arms around your neck, careful to avoid the hilts of your swords. You slowly rise to your feet with the extra weight that is now on your back and slowly make your way through the rest of the flight tunnel.

As you come close to the entrance, you turn to your right and slide Imogen to the floor. Swiping your fingers across a craggy rock, another click sounds and you push the large stone open. You drop down to pick up Imogen again and begin walking down the path to the healers quadrant. 

No one else knew that you were aware of all these passages. Your signet had become a way for you to sneak around undetected from others since you could shield your entire person. You bent down and picked up Imogen again and cloaked yourself in a shield just in case there was anyone lurking around. As much as you were angry at Imogen for her nasty comments, you were never going to let anyone die innocently.

As soon as you walk into the healers, everyone stops and turns to you. You can only imagine how you look. You huff a laugh to yourself and can imagine the purple smudges under your eyes from not sleeping, the blood that is all over you, swords strapped to your back, hair mussed from lack of sleep, flight and fighting. You are a mess. 

“What happened?” a healer asks sprinting towards you with two other men coming to take Imogen from you. 

“I’m not sure. She was unconscious when I found her and her head was covered.” You retold leaving out some details. 

Unsure of exactly what happened, you knew that the fewer details, the better for both of you.

The healer looked at you and then pointed to your slashed upper arm with a questioning look. 

“This is just a scratch from trying to get her here.” You say as convincingly as you can. 

You can tell that the healer is skeptical of your reasoning, but she just nods and points you over to one of the free beds. 

As you sit there waiting to be tended to, you can’t help the way your mind questions why Imogen would’ve been caught by an infantry cadet in the first place. 

What could she have possibly been doing?

You knew it couldn’t have been an RSC issue because she was alone and so was the infantry guy. You shook your head trying to come up with an excuse but kept coming up blank. 

Soon enough, a healer cadet asked you to take off your flight jacket and helped to clean and stitch the wound on your upper arm. You asked about Imogen and the healers confirmed that she would be fine and just needed a little more time to sleep off whatever had her unconscious. 

Wishing them a thank you for tending to the both of you, you put your swords back on your back and threw your jacket over your uninjured arm. Beginning the walk back to the quadrant, you wondered if you should find one of her marked friends and let them know what happened. 

As if the gods were answering your own question, the minute you walked into the rotunda of the riders quadrant, there were Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi. 

Gods, do those three do anything without each other? 

You can’t help the question that pops to your mind. With all the calm you can muster, you push your own feelings about them down and head towards the three. Garrick notices you first and you watch as he jerks his head towards you alerting the other two of your presence. 

You watch as Bodhi’s eyes slightly widen and dart between your face and bandaged arm. 

“Are you-“ Bodhi begins, but you cut him off before he can finish.

“I thought you three would like to know I just brought Imogen to the healers quadrant.” You say with a tired sigh.

You watch as all three of them tense. Xaden and Garrick are looking at you with a hint of suspicion in their gaze and Bodhi looks like he is going to try to step between the three. Before they can get riled up anymore, you continue.

“She was being dragged somewhere by a guy in the Infantry. Her head was covered in a black sack, and she was unconscious.” You explain. “I challenged the guy, and he dropped her. I killed him and brought her to the healers. She’s fine and resting there now, in case any of you want to check on her.”

You immediately turn to walk away having done what you thought was right by letting them know where their friend was. Unfortunately, before you could walk away, you felt someone’s hand pull back on your injured arm. 

You let out a hiss and turned back to the group to see Xaden’s hand around your forearm. 

“You mean to tell me that you just happened to walk up, and some guy was just standing there with her limp form?” Xaden asks with disbelief in his voice.

You turn to face him fully and forcefully pull your hand back from his grasp. You look at your wingleader with a steely glare.

“Yes. I did.” You hiss back through grit teeth. “Unlike some people, I believe everyone is worth the effort.”

You let out the last few words slowly so that he can understand your meaning. You’re rewarded as you watch his eyes slightly widen and look down at you. Without waiting for him to say anything else, you back up a few additional steps. As he goes to follow you and most likely ask you more questions, you stop.  

“With all due respect, Wingleader.” You hiss maliciously, spitting his title as if an insult. “Fuck. Off.”

You give your back to the three men and forcefully walk yourself back towards the dormitories. By the time you make it to your room, all you can think to do is drop to your bed for some much-needed sleep. Regrettably, you barely get your swords off your back and boots off before there is a knock at your door. 

You take a deep annoyed breath and shuffle to the door. As you look back at the visitor, you don’t hold back the annoyance in your face. 

“What do you want Bodhi?” You hum agitatedly. 

“Can I talk to you?” Bodhi asks quietly.

Tired enough not to care, you just open the door slightly while gesturing for him to come in. As soon as the door is closed, you continue to let yourself get comfortable in your own room. Good decisions have apparently left your head as you pull your shirt over your head in order to change into something more comfortable. You let the excuses turn in your head as Bodhi’s already seen you undressed before, so with the tiredness dragging down your body, you just keep going. 

As you turn around, you tug a large shirt over yourself before beginning to unbutton your pants. When you take a second to look up, you realize maybe this wasn’t your best idea. Bodhi is stuck absolutely still watching you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“Sorry.” You mutter and go to sit down on the chair by your desk. “What do you want to say Bodhi? I’m exhausted.”

Your words seem to crack the trance that he had fallen into and before you blink, he’s moving towards you and kneeling next to your side. 

“Are you okay?” He questions as he slides his hand gently over the bandage on your arm. 

“I’ve had worse by the girl that I dragged to the infirmary, so yes, I’m fine.” You huff. 

Why this man thinks he can mother hen you all of a sudden is beyond your comprehension?

“Is that what you needed to talk to me about?” You ask beginning to get sleepier by the minute, letting your eyes shut as your head lulls back.

He doesn’t respond to you immediately. After a few more moments, you feel as his hand ghosts across your cheek. You flutter your eyes open and realize that he’s now standing in front of you and looking down at you with concern. You cock your eyebrow in question and move your hand up to his to knock his away from your face.

At the gesture, his face falls and his eyes turn sad. 

“I know that you heard what Xaden and I spoke about that night and I’m sorry.” He says as he goes to kneel in front of you.

“I will never be able to take those words back and I certainly won’t be able to make excuses for what my cousin said.” He takes the hand of your injured arm while tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“I just need you to know that what I said was a lie.” Bodhi drops his face in defeat, and you can’t honestly tell if you believe him. 

“Why would I believe that you would lie to your own cousin?” You snark defensively. 

He draws his head back and looks you in the eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that you knew Bodhi’s facial features so well, you would think he was a brilliant actor. But you could see the hurt awash in his eyes and the certain way that he held his head whenever he was trying to convey a truth. 

“Because the bastard thinks that caring about anyone more than who we have is a danger. He thinks that you’ll be a liability to me if I care about you more than what he thinks I should.” He tries to explain.

“And regrettably, the thing is, he’s right.” You scoff indignantly at Bodhi’s words. 

You can’t help the way your eyes roll in response to Bodhi’s words. How can he say that you’re a liability to him if you’re just a convenient addition to keep his bed warm? Before you can open your mouth to voice your opinion of his cousin’s ideals, he’s pulling you to your feet. 

You look back at him with annoyed eyes as he grabs your face with both of his hands. Your tired mind and body betray you and calm at the feel of his calloused hands on your face. 

“You matter more to me than anything or anyone else in this gods forsaken thing we call a school. Or even in my life.” He declares as one of his hands drops from your face and wraps around your waist. 

“I’m absolutely terrified every minute of my life when I can’t see you or know that you’re safe.” He continues as his other hand falls to the back of your neck and his thumb caresses behind your ear. 

“Ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to stand one day without seeing your face, your smile, the way your eyes twinkle in the sunlight and the moonlight. You’re the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have at night.” His hand continues to tighten across your waist. 

“I thought I was going to die when Imogen’s blade went through your side. I sat there and I could’ve killed her right then and there for hurting you even a little. I’ve never felt a rage and panic as pure as that moment.” He’s now pulling your entire body even closer until there isn’t any space between you. 

“I was close to setting the entire college on fire when you showed up in formation in those leathers. They hugged every beautiful curve and showed the entire quadrant the absolutely gorgeous body that you had hidden from everyone else. And on top of that, you looked like the goddess of death with those swords strapped to your back, daring anyone and everyone to challenge how deadly you could be.” He drops his head and rests his forehead against yours.

“But the most devastating thought I’ve had was that I could possibly lose you because of my own stupidity. Of course, I never thought you would hear my conversation with Xaden, but I should never had lied to him.” Your both now just a breath away from each other. 

“You’re not a clueless girl. You’re the love of my fucking life. The woman that haunts my thoughts day and night.” He whispers against your lips. “And I’m asking. No. I’m begging you to forgive me. Please. Let me make it up to you.”

You lift your eyes to Bodhi’s and search for any hint of a lie, but all you see is the fire of conviction in his eyes. 

“If I give you another chance,” You breathe, unable to raise the volume of your voice any louder. “You’re going to be working to make up for your mistakes for a very long time.”

“I’ll be begging for your forgiveness on my knees for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.” He states back with pure conviction lacing every word. 

“I expect you to have some choice words for that cousin of yours as well.” You say pointedly to the man that can clearly sweep you off your feet. 

“I’ll have all the words to tell him he’s an asshole and to back off, and you’re coming with me when I tell him.” He states and looks into your eyes. “I want you to know how serious I am.”

You can’t help but continue to study the man that has you in a vice grip. You can feel the way his fingers are digging into your waist and the back of your neck as if any minute you will run away or disappear. 

“Please tell me you’ll give me another chance. I promise you won’t regret it.” He begs. 

“If I hurt you again, you can have Ezzonth burn me to a cris-“He continues before you cut him off by bringing your lips to his. 

For a moment you wonder if he really meant what he was saying as he doesn’t respond, but after a few seconds, his hands move to your face. His large palms cover your cheeks and squeeze as he kisses you with a fervor that you’ve never felt before.

He hands then move to your thighs and he taps the back in direction for you to wrap them around his waist. You jump slightly and you continue to explore his mouth as he moves towards the door. In another moment you are slammed against the back of the door as you continue to exchange desperate kisses. He swipes his tongue against the bottom of your lips in request and you open your mouth for him. 

Your body responds immediately arching into him as you continue to tangle with tounges and teeth. He nips at your lower lip as you feel a smile break across his face. He draws back slightly and leans his forehead against yours again as you both try to calm your heaving breaths. 

“Gods, I fucking missed your mouth.” He says, punctuating it with a kiss. 

You snicker at him. “You better behave Durran, or you’re going to find yourself missing it for good.” You can’t help but tease him. 

His face turns serious again as he slowly lowers you back to the ground. His hand goes to your jaw and leans your head to look at him. 

“I don’t know how many times I will have to tell you, but I’ll do it every day if you need me to. You’re it for me. You are my forever, in this plane and beyond.”

He kisses you hard and wraps you in his arms. You nuzzle your face into his neck and take a deep breath. Though you may not have a clue as to what the future holds, you know you’ll be happy as long as you’re wrapped in Bodhi’s arms. 

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @smashee0789 @onestorytorulethemall @hawkins-2000 @fantanbietsson

[iichfilwypj]

heroes | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: :) ღ wc: 692 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

The days that followed were awkward. The trip back to camp was awkward. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t speak. They couldn’t be in the same room for more than two minutes without her wanting to escape.

And it was entirely her fault.

She stepped into her cabin, wanting to fall into bed and sleep until the next day. Or, better yet, the day after –perhaps then she'd recover the naps she hadn’t been able to take. 

But, to her surprise, she wasn’t alone. 

There he was, lying on her bed. She could see he was in his pajamas, his hair messy and breathing so slowly it almost felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. He seemed so at ease, so peaceful, so much like before.

She could only snap.

Tears welled up before she could hold them back, flowing faster and stronger than ever. Each drop hit the floor like a moment they might have shared, a word they could have said. 

Her sobs must have roused the boy, who sat up in bed, a sleepy expression on his face as he stared at her. Her vision was too blurry and weak to see him clearly, but he appeared to be just as heartbroken as she was. 

“I- I am so sorry” Her words were shaky and barely coherent, but the boy understood them perfectly. He was sorry too. 

She wanted a hug, sweet words, for him to wipe her tears away. Percy stayed where he was, trying to give her space. 

"I fucked up everything. I was afraid when I realized how much I love you, and how much I need you, and I didn’t know what to do." The tears kept flowing as she uttered the only words she didn’t want to say. “We can't be together, Percy”

He was furious, frustrated, mad. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to push her away or pull her into his arms, whether he wanted to never speak to her again or kiss every inch of her body. 

And though he wished things could go back to when she was just his best friend, the one sleeping beside him all day and unaware of his (and her own) feelings, he knew he had to give it another try.

“Why not?” he dared to say, without taking her eyes off her trembling figure. "What makes you think that?"

“I’ll be mean, and you’ll get tired of me” No. Percy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Getting tired of her? 

Without her, something was missing, something was off. 

He made his way toward her carefully, checking if she was okay with it. His hands traced her face, and he smiled without thinking as he felt her skin after so long. 

“You know that is not true. None of that bullshit it's true" She shook her head, and he nodded. She pouted, and he smiled. “We love each other, and that's a fact.”

“Nothing would keep us together” she knew he understood; the others, their stupid opinions, her own insecurities…

But was she being honest with herself? Was she really unwilling to give everything she had to spend the rest of her days with him?

“I don’t believe that. We can try”

He didn't release her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“We could steal time.” 

A kiss on her cheek.

“Just for one day.” 

A kiss on her other cheek.

“Please.”

Their noses brushed together, their breaths merged, and their bodies inched closer without even trying.

Their lips were so, so near. 

And she nodded. Because she depended on him, she adored him, she hungered for him. She ached for him. Her body yearned and craved for his company, his hugs, his kisses, his touch. 

She wanted him. 

Without a second thought, their lips met in a soft, warm kiss. His hands pulled her closer as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them seemed to freeze, granting them more time, more peace. 

And the kiss became desperate, raw, and yet somehow full of sweetness.

Every part of them connecting, as if they were finally where they belonged.

heroes >>>>> any other song IT FINALLY HAPPENED AAA I COULND' STAND WIRITING MORE ANGST maybe it's rushed because i NEEDED them to kiss but i don't care

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Lazy Day

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Nothing but fluff

Length: 808

Summary: You and Bucky have a lazy morning.

A/N: After a VERY long break, I’m semi-back! I’m not going to say I’m fully back because I still don’t log into Tumblr that often, but I’m hoping to write a bit more! I got severe burnout in May, partially because of finals, but now that the new semester has started I feel that itch to write again, especially after the past week. Right now I’m feeling more fluff than smut, so I hope y’all don’t mind!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You open your eyes with a hum. Your once warm body was getting colder and colder by the second. You only notice when you roll over that it’s because your personal heater has gotten out of bed. With a heavy sigh, you roll back over and close your eyes. You hear heavy footsteps coming from outside of your shared bedroom to your side of the bed.

“You got out of bed,” You grumble into the pillow.

You hear Bucky chuckle before he kisses your temple. “Sorry Doll, I wanted to make sure there was some fresh coffee for when you woke up.”

At the sound of fresh coffee, you cracked open one eye to look at him. “Fresh coffee you say?”

Bucky laughs again and shakes his head. “Don’t worry Doll, I’ll bring you a cup.”

Bucky moves to get up but you grab his arm to stop him. “Will you come back to bed?”

Bucky smiles down at you and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Of course I will Doll, I’m just going to get our coffees.”

You let go of his arm and close your eyes again as he leaves. You hear Bucky working his way around the kitchen and decide that you should at least sit up and fix your hair. You readjust your pillows so you can lay back comfortably and before you can fix your hair, Bucky comes back with two cups of coffee.

“I tried to make it just the way you like it,” Bucky places both cups of coffee on his bedside table.

Bucky leans over the bed and gives you a gentle kiss as you fix your hair. He lets out a hum of approval and smiles.

“You know, I could get used to this.”

“Could you now?” You ask him with a smile, settling back in on your side of the bed as Bucky hands you your coffee.

“Oh definitely. I get up and go on my morning run, I make us coffee when I get back, you looking absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh you flatter me too much Barnes.” You say dramatically with a laugh.

“There is no amount of flattery in the world that would capture everything I love about you.” You feel yourself get warm as butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Bucky, it’s too early to be cheesy.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and sips his coffee. “Well I can’t help that you’re my dream girl, Doll.”

You scrunch your nose at both his cheesy comment and the way he drinks his coffee. “I don’t know how you are so sweet but take your coffee black.”

Bucky looks down at his mug, his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just so bitter. At least add some cream or something.” You tease him.

“Just so you know, I happen to really like my coffee just the way it is. I don’t need all that extra stuff to make it taste better.”

You take a sip of your coffee and shake your head at him. “Lying isn’t good Bucky, you should be honest.”

Bucky rolls his eyes once more and lays against the headboard. “If I change my coffee, you’ll have to change yours too.”

You glare at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He glares back. “You want to try me, Doll?”

The two of you continue the stare off for a minute before a white furball makes her presence known. Alpine jumps onto the bed and meows loudly, trying to get your attention. Bucky breaks first, turning to look at her.

“Are you hungry Alp?” He asks her, petting under her chin.

Alpine flips onto her back and lets out a small meow, letting you both know that she wants food. You both smile at her.

“Don’t worry Alpine, we didn’t forget about you.” You tell her.

You rub her belly and kiss the side of her head. You place your cup of coffee on your bedside table and get up.

“And where do you think you’re going, Doll?”

“Alpine has to eat.” You look at Bucky with a ‘are you serious?’ face.

“Get your cute ass back in bed. It’s a lazy day which means I take care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger today.”

You smile and sit back on the bed. “Can everyday be a lazy day?”

“If you want it to be Doll.” Bucky smiles at you.

This is why you love him. Not because you can ask him to do anything and he would do it. But because he would do so without you asking. He would rather you be comfortable and him do all the work. You couldn’t ask for a better partner.

Bucky leans over and places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You lean forward and kiss him again.

[piftamere]

twelve - hello kitty bandages (wc : 600; cw : blood)

it’s late, he’s sitting on her washing machine, she’s standing between his legs. a pile of blood soaked tissue paper and cotton pads fills the bathroom sink. a spray bottle of disinfectant in hand, the kind that stings. every so often, he winces, and she mumbles some curse word under her breath. she’s not a fucking nurse, he’s an idiot, he should've went to a hospital, it fucking won’t stop bleeding…

he’s being as quiet as he can. things were weird between them since the other night, and what his friends told him has been silently haunting the back of his mind. but after running out of the locker room with a busted lip and blood dripping down his hand and face, he could only think of one place to go. that’s how he ended up here, and even if it hurts, he has no regrets.

she’s focused, biting her lower lip in concentration, and under the dim light coming through the curtains, she looks beautiful.

when she’s done, his face is covered in hello kitty bandages.

she comes back from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas, holding out her hand. he places his bruised hand in hers.

she holds the bag a few inches away from his knuckles before speaking, “tell me what happened.”

he shakes his head. “you don’t need to know.”

her brows furrow, “don’t try to protect me.”

she’s holding up his gaze. she won’t give up until he explains.

he looks down at his hand. with a sigh, he whispers, “shion was talking shit.”

“about me?”

he nods, he still won’t look into her eyes. “you sure you wanna know?”

“i’m sure.”

“…he called you a slut. said you ‘begged for it’, he asked me if i ‘hit that yet’. i don’t remember what he said after that. i snapped. before i knew it, my fist was in his nose.”

he takes a quick look at her face, she’s lost in thought for a moment.

“thanks… i guess,” she mutters, as she sets the peas on his bruise. she stares in his eyes. she presses down hard on his hand, as if to emphasize her words. “but i’m not a damsel in distress. i don’t need you to defend my honor.”

“especially if you’re gonna get hurt.” she doesn’t say it, at least not with her words, but he reads it in her gaze. then again, maybe he only sees what he wants to see.

he winces, and with chuckle he whispers, “yeah i know.”

hesitantly he reaches for her hand and links his uninjured fingers with hers. his thumb draws soothing circles into her skin. her shoulders relax.

“i hope he looks worse than you.”

“oh trust me, he does.” he smiles, the tear in his lip threatening to bleed again, before continuing, “sorry i won’t look nice on our date tomorrow.”

she shifts her weight on her feet, “don’t worry about that.”

she inches forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck. he rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. he places his hand on the small of her back, holding her closer.

he nuzzles his face into her hair, mumbling, “i should get going,” making no effort to move at all.

“and what? walk back to your place in this state?”

“someone can come pick me up.”

she insists, "did he hit you on the head? don't be an idiot. stay the night."

he chuckles, as he tightens his hold on her, the frozen peas falling on the ground. “okay.”

fun facts

atsumu was too upset about the loss to notice yn sneak away.

the bandages are yachi’s, it's all they had left.

yn's roommates went to celebrate the win but she wasn't in the mood to go with them.

atsumu and yn planned their date before the party and she was debating canceling it.

author's note

i really like this one :)

the men in this universe are lovely

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen @shesabeeler

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[nisuna]

hi hello long time no see for those interested I've been going through a hard time after getting fired and finding my place at my new job, but because I'm in a better place mentally again I'm back hehe

I'm sorry that my comeback isn't jjk related, as that is my target audience, but I have been playing love and deepspace ever since Sylus joined and I have been hooked ever since 🤧

I was very hesitant about writing this and even considered writing smth ambiguous to suit my theme so far, but ultimately decided to make it character specific. this man really has a chokehold on me, especially his jp voice. anyway, enough yapping hopefully I will be back with some jjk content as well, in any case, hope you still enjoy ^^

Thank you for all of the support even while I was gone<3

×This takes place after the boxing match from the Radiant Brilliance memory; I saw some fan art and couldn't stop thinking about it so here we are >><<

TW: unprotected sex, creampie, finger fucking, making out, kitten sweetie sweetheart, a lot of teasing but also soft, voyeurism, dom-sub dynamics, tit and ass fondling, lord give me strength this man will be the end of me oml; ~1.8k words

♡masterlist♡

-------------------strictly 18+; MDNI-------------------

"Did you just kiss my head?"

"What about it?", he smirked.

"I'd rather you to kiss something else instead."

"All in due time, kitten. Once everyone leaves, no place will be left untouched.", he whispered pulling you into a hug.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

-

It didn't take long for him to fulfil his promise. However you did not expect to be bent into such a compromising position in the process. One thigh in his hand, while your ass was being pushed into his hard crotch.

"Wait, if you lift it up like that I'm gonna fall!", you yelped expecting a fall that never happened.

Laying his large palm flat on your exposed tummy he spoke, "No you wont, I got you."

"I always got you, you can lean on me.", he continued as he bit along your delicate skin, tightening his grip on your thigh and waist in the process.

You were about to melt at the softness and genuity of his voice, a stark contrast to his rough hands holding you in place.

"Still, this position is a bit...", you trailed off.

"A bit what?", he groaned starting to grind his hips into the plush of your ass.

"Embarassing. I feel exposed... and what if someone walks in." you shook.

"You dont have to worry about any of that." , he spoke softly, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck.

"Okay...", you gulped. "Slowly, this feels weird."

"Mhm", he set your leg back down for now and continued. "Arch your back a bit more. Yeah thats it, kitten. The ropes are strong enough to hold you."

His hands were sliding all over your body before he finally decided to flip your skirt over your hips, making it bunch up at your waist and exposing your red lace panties, matching his outfit.

"Oho? Did you wear this pair on purpose? Were you expecting something like this to happen? Or maybe you did want me to fuck you in front of everyone hm?"

You felt embarrassed as the cool air hit your exposed flesh and the way his fingers were pulling at the hem of your panties, while admiring your ridiculous proportions in this position. Your waist and ass were accentuated heavenly, making him lick his lips. When he pulled and let the pretty snap back against your hip you gasped as a firm slap of his palm followed making the flesh jiggle. You arched your back impossibly more in anticipation of what's to come. (both of you hopefully)

He continued his teasing ministrations by unbuttoning your blouse and pulling the thin lace of your matching bra down your tits, making them spill over oh so deliciously.

As soon as he grabbed a handful of both of your tits you started to push back against his aching cock. You both groaned, needing more friction.

"Can't wait anymore, kitten? You even filmed my cock earlier, how dirty. Did you want to suck me off in front of everyone right then and there?", his hot breath hit the back of your neck making the hairs stand up as he continued to fondle your tit while leaving hickeys along your neck.

"Ngh stop teasing...give it to me already!", you moaned, pushing your ass against his firm cock impossibly more, as you clung onto the ropes of the ring in front of you.

"How impatient tsk tsk, he clicked and bit down on your shoulder, getting a yelp out of your quivering mouth. Pulling your back flush against his toned chest he continued, "But I'll gladly comply. I can hardly wait myself, a certain someone's got me all riled up."

"Wanna try the position from earlier?", he teased.

You didn't want to admit it, but him flaunting his strength by almost lifting you up with such ease made your cunt drip. So you just coyly shook your yead yes without looking at him, the tips of your ears burning red.

"Atta girl."

In one smooth motion our leg was lifted back up by one of his huge palms. His long fingers starting to leave marks already.

Pushing his shorts down and your panties to the side he wasted no time filling you to the hilt.

The sudden intrusion made you scream. Your voice echoing off of the walls of the empty stadium made you slap your palm over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.

"Why are you trying to keep quiet? Afraid someone will hear you? We're all alone, but how would you feel if someone walked in on me claiming you like that, hm?", he teased.

"You'd like that, huh? I can feel you tightening around me, you like being watched."

You groaned in protest shaking your head as he started pulling out and bullying his thick cock back into your gummy walls.

"Noooo!", you whined head tipping forward at the sound your pussy was making.

"Fuck, look at you. I didnt know you could get any wetter", he mumbled licking a thick stripe up your neck and settling on nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You could feel your juices starting to drip down your leg as he continued his mean thrusts. Your head was starting to spin from the impact. All the talking was making you dizzy. You wanted to ground yourself so you spoke.

"I want to kiss you, please."

His hungry eyes settled on you as he grabbed your jaw twisting, yoyr face back so he could devour you with his mouth as well. The kiss was messy and wet, your tiny mewls interrupting it ever so slightly.

When he felt your walls clamping down on him he set down your leg and started to massage your clit the pads of his fingers. "I want you to cum on my cock, sweatheart. You can do that for me right?"

You violently shook your head yes. "Wanna cum~ Please make me cum~"

A few more thrusts and strokes along your clit was all it took for you to let go. All shame was thrown out the window as you moaned to your heart's content without worrying about someone hearing you.

"Good girl. Now, let me fill you up in return."

And filling you up he did. His hips came to a halt, but your greedy cunt wanted more.

He started to whince as you started fucking yourself on his cock, while he continued to abuse your sensitive clit. With the feeling of his thick cum deep inside of you and with the help of his skilled fingers you could feel yourself tipping over the edge for the second time tonight. It didn't take long before your hips came to a halt as you desperately gasped for air. All the while he was kissing along your skin, praising you and trying his best to calm you down.

When he finally pulled out you, you felt weak but his strong arms kept you from falling. His cum was starting do drip down your shaky legs as you shivered from the aftermath.

After a moment of silence he was the first to speak up. "Just so you know, I would never let anyone but me see you like this. Though I'm open to your input on the matter." you could hear the smirk in his tone.

Turning your head in his direction with a frown you spat, "Don't even joke like that ah-" You let your head fall forward as two thick fingers entered you again.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"We can't let anything go to waste. You're dripping all over the mat. So I have to plug you back up." he smiled.

"And whose fault is that??", you whined.

"Mine entirely, of course." he chuckled.

"That's right. Besides, I do not like being watched. Speak for yourself mr. nh-"

"Oho?", he mused beginng to finger fuck his cum back inside of you. "She's telling me a different story though. You were gaping just a moment ago and now you tightened back up already after the mention of being watched. My kitten's lying, but her body is very honest..

"Stop teasing! And I'm not lying." you protested, legs starting to tremble as you tried your best to hold onto the shaky rope in front of you.

"You're not? Look me in the eyes and say that again."

Reluctant to face him he pulled out his fingers and spun you around himself. When he stuffed his fingers back in, you groaned against his chest clawing at the fabric of his top.

You eventually leaned your back against the ropes and pouted, eyes teary.

"Hm?", he lifted his eyebrow expectedly.

"Screw you!", you spat before pulling him into a needy kiss. All the while he pulled his fingers out of you and gripped a handfull of your ass.

"So feisty. In that case, I guess I'll have to screw you open more thoroughly later." he spoke after pulling away and planting a kiss onto your shoulder.

"Later?", you groaned tilting your head to give him more access to your neck.

"Of course", he hummed. "This was just the appetiser. I hope you're ready for the main event. I've got a lot more to show you, sweetie."

"Ditto, I have a reward for your win as well."

"Nothing you do could ever reward me more, than me making you feel good."

"Hmpf, we'll see about that, big boy."

"Do your worst then.", he flashed you a toothy grin.

---

~pt 2 coming soon ^^~

hope you enjoyed! this was my first time writing for him so please lmk your thoughts

MWAH and until next time<3

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐒

Yandere Hal Jordan x GN Reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: Just wanted to expand on my yan Hal thoughts a bit. This is a very short blurb.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: romantic yandere content, idk how to even describe this, coercive behavior, hints of a physical fight, blood mention, Hal just generally being a dick, there’s also lowkey something wrong with the reader, maybe some Stockholm syndrome, kissing, slightly suggestive ending, this is just a general snapshot.

Keeping up with him took great effort. He was pulling your arm with a firm grip, practically dragging you behind him as he led you down the empty street. You almost tripped on the uneven sidewalk, and god only knows what would happen if you did; he clearly wasn’t in the mood for any more hiccups this afternoon.

The silence between the two of you was thick, almost suffocating. Suffering through it any longer was bound to drive you insane. So, with a sudden surge of bravery, you decided to speak up. “Hal—”

“Just come on,” was all he replied with, his tone riddled with impatience. His grip only tightened around your forearm, eliciting a small wince from you. Not that he seemed to care, of course. He merely continued to pull you along, assumingly back to the apartment, if you had to take a guess.

Though you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down to bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“Hal,” you tried again. There was an unsure quiver to your voice, but you pushed through it in favor of speaking your mind. “Hal, that wasn’t right… you shouldn’t have—”

You trailed off the moment Hal took a sudden sharp turn into an alleyway. Before you could even process how direly you fucked up, he pushed you into the wall behind you by your shoulder, your head slamming roughly into the gritty bricks. Stars danced behind your eyes from the impact, and when you cracked open your eyelids, you could see his disapproving expression as clear as day.

“Ow, fuck—!! Hal, that hurt—”

“Babe,” he started with a slow, condescending tone, “you know I don’t like it when people talk to you like that. It’s fucked up. Okay?”

Whether it was the implication that you couldn’t stand up for yourself — or the dull throbbing in the back of your skull — you could feel the irritation begin to nestle in your chest. “But don’t you think that was a little overboard? And risky? Someone could’ve seen you—!”

“(Y/N). Everything turned out fine. Quit it with the bratty attitude already.” One of his hands gently rested against your cheek. There was a slight wetness to the pads of his fingers, which you quickly deduced was more blood. His steely eyes bore into yours with pure disappointment. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see all of that, but it’s been taken care of.”

Sick fuck, you mentally sneered. Nonetheless, you did well to keep the disgusted grimace off of your face; Hal is pissed off enough as it is. “Alright. Fine. You took care of it.” Your next words had poorly concealed venom behind them. “Thank you, I guess. Can we just go home now?”

Apparently, that was not the answer Hal wanted to hear. The hand on your cheek — once so gently, so delicate — violently snatched up your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin with enough strength that there were sure to be bruises left behind. A pained noise gritted out from clenched teeth with an unintelligible swear quickly following. You attempted to tug back, but his grip was like iron welded tightly to your face.

Hal’s eyes narrowed at you. “I said quit it with the bratty shit.”

Despite your eyes narrowing back at him, you knew you’ve been pushing your luck. “Okay,” you relented, trying to make your voice sound as apologetic as you could. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t make his doubt more obvious, but at least his grip lightened up a bit. With an unimpressed look, he scanned your face before giving the slightest eye roll and moving his fingers from your jaw to your chin. You pursed your lips together as he leaned in for a kiss, which earned a short puff of air from his nose. It was hard to tell if it was from irritation or amusement; considering who you were dealing with, it could’ve been either.

“Come on, now,” he urged, words dripping with that sickeningly sweet condescending tone. You tried not to shiver from his warm breath ghosting against your lips. “Kiss me back.”

You quickly decided it was in your best interest to comply. Lips now slotted against each other, you could feel him tilt your head towards the side for a better angle, and it wasn’t long until your body was pulled away from the wall to be trapped against his. Fortunately, the kiss didn’t last very long. By the time you pulled apart, you were barely out of breath.

The crooked smirk on Hal’s face, however, told you this was just the beginning. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He then nosed into the crook of your neck, forcing you to fight against a shiver. “Now, are you gonna continue being good for me or what?”

God, what a fucking jackass.

(Not that you’d say that to his face, of course.)

[thriftyshark530]

Whumper incarcerated by caretaker and their team. Caretaker is leading the interrogation. Sitting down opposite of the table from where whumper is sitting, placing their hands on the table and staring ahead with a cold gaze

"You know why I'm here" caretaker then leans forward, waiting for a response

Whumper begins to chuckle, playing with their handcuffs that have them stuck to the table. "Well, I suppose you aren't here to sell me girl scout cookies. Unless you are, in that case you're incredibly late, because I ordered those a long time ag-"

Caretaker slams their hands on the table, cutting whumper off. "Whumpee, where is he?"

"Ooh, yes, right" whumper's eyebrows raise as they lean back in their chair. "Um, which one was that again? Was he the one that begged for his li-"

"You know who, talk" caretaker growls, again cutting whumper off

"Oh, well you're no fun." Whumper sits forward and starts chuckling. "Yes, of course I know, quite a memorable one actually. Y'know, when I first captured him, I would visit his cell regularly. And he would go on and on about how you would save him. How at any second you would come flying in to save the day, only that never happened, did it?" Whumper begins to stare at caretaker with a devilish grin

"no, no, of course not. You were off parading around with your little boy band back there, too busy playing hero to rescue the one who needed saving the most, what kind of irony is that. I almost felt sorry for the little chap, but damn I loved hearing him scream, so I couldn't help myself. Eventually his hope turned to screams, the screams turned to moans, the moans turned to whimpers and whines, and then eventually silence. With all the blood on the floor, I don't know if he could still talk anymore, or if he just chose to be silent. But I'll never forget this. No matter how broken his body was, how twisted and corrupted his mind was, every single time he heard the cell door open, he looked up hoping it was you. Oh, and the slow fall of hope from his face, replaced by fear. The look in his eyes as he realized it wasn't you coming through that door..." Whumper places their hands flat on the table and leans in close to caretaker

"Priceless"

Caretaker roars and jumps up out of their chair. Grabbing whumper by the hair, and proceeding to slam their skull into the table repeatedly. Standing whumper up, and making eye contact between the two.

"WHERE IS HE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT"

whumper takes a few moments to recover, then they wipe the blood from their nose and give caretaker a bloody grin. "Y'know, the funny thing is, I don't know"

Caretaker gets ready to punch whumper, before teammate places a hand on their shoulder, stopping caretaker and pulling them back a few feet.

Whumper watches as teammate and caretaker discuss something. Whumper begins licking their bloody teeth, laughing at the rage caretaker displayed. Eventually caretaker and teammate leave, and return with a torture device, the same one whumper used on whumpee. Caretaker stands across from whumper once again.

"Found this in whumpee's cell, ran the blood through a test and confirmed it has whumpee's DNA on it. Now, you're going to tell me where he is, or whumpee won't be the only one begging for mercy."

Sweat begins to roll down whumper's face, after all these years he never thought he would fall victim to his own design. "And, if I refuse?"

Caretaker leans over the table, returning whumper's devilish grin from earlier. "Well, then I guess this is the last time we speak.". Caretaker turns over to teammate and proceeds to nod. "Do it".

[212-apricity]

mastermind, part four

idk what happened to this part it literally just disappeared but thank God i had it in my google docs still😜😜

warnings: some violence but not graphic or anything

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

y/n’s pov

“Hello Y/N.”

I look up from my place on the grass where I was tying my shoes.

Oh. Him again.

“Hi, Cormac.” I say with a tight-lipped smile, standing up, and walking over to where I left my broom when I was practising.

Cormac follows me like a lost puppy and says, “So uhm how’ve you been?”

It’s been almost four months of this. He comes over to wherever I am and follows me asking pointless questions about the weather or lessons and it would’ve been fine if he wasn’t making uncomfortable inappropriate jokes in between. It’s December now, nearly time for the Yule Ball and I need to shake Cormac off my tail sometime soon or I'll have no hope of finding a date this year.

“Just fine Cormac, what about you?” I say mindlessly, trying to devise ideas to get him away politely.

“I’m good…would be better with you in my bed though…” he says, smoking at me as I give him a disgusted look and stop walking.

Forget trying to be nice, this guy’s a creep.

“Okay Cormac, let's settle this. What’s all this really about? I mean you’ve been following- no practically stalking me for months now, and if it wasn’t creepy enough without the inappropriate jokes, it sure as hell is now. So what do you actually like me or just want to get in my pants?” I say angrily at him, clutching my broom in my hands so hard, my knuckles turn white.

He looks started by my outburst at first but quickly replies and says, “Uhm no, no! Of course I like you Y/N, I just wanted to know if you had a date for the Yule Ball yet?” with the furrows of my brows he leans forward and speaks lowly to me in a more threatening tone, “Sure would be a shame if the whole school found out the truth about your favourite uncle.”

Sirius? What the fuck?

I push him away, “Get the fuck away from me,” I go to leave before he grabs me by my wrist and speaks again, “Come to the ball with me and I won’t say a word about him to anyone,”

“Cormac let go of me,” I say, struggling in his tightening grip.

“Just say yes. Say yes and I’ll let go and no one will have to hear about your uncle.”

“Get away from me!” I shout at him, stomp on his foot and punch his nose the hardest I could, feeling his bones crunching beneath mine. Or maybe it was both our bones.

I hold my now numb hand and leave him on the empty field holding his bloody nose and groaning while I run straight to the castle.

I run aimlessly for about three minutes, turning every which way not expecting anyone to be out in the hallways at this time,

Everyone would be in lessons right now I think, before, to my surprise, I turn the corner and I’m face to face with Theo.

He takes hold of me from my arms before I collapse into him and looks at me in surprise with a cigarette in between his soft pink lips.

I mumble out a quick ‘Sorry’ and move to leave, maybe go back to my common room to look for Hermione but he stops me before I can go anywhere.

His alarmed eyes and lifted brows look down at the tears on my face and the redness around my wrist and knuckles. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, discarding it on the floor before putting it out with his shoe, takes me gently by the other hand and leads me to the hospital wing.

“Theo, no, I’m fine don’t worry.” I try and reassure him, “I don’t need Madam Pomfrey all over me right now, a potion from Hermione can fix me right up, I promise.”

He ignores me and takes me to an empty bed, telling me to rest my hand and sit still, before moving away to find Madam Pomfrey.

When shes checked me over and given me the right medications, he stares down at me but doesn't say a word until I ask, “What?”.

His reply is cold and quiet, “Who did this to you?”

I try brushing the question off, “Don’t worry about it Theo, I handled it fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” he says, looking down at my bandaged hand, and asks again, “Who did this to you Y/N?”

I sigh before answering, “You promise you won’t do anything illegal?”

“I promise.” he says and I extend my pinky on my good hand towards him. His hard expression softens slightly before he extends his and joins our pinkies together muttering another ‘promise’.

“Cormac. He got mad at me because I didn’t want to go to the ball with him and threatened to tell everyone some things about my family.” I say quietly, looking down.

theo’s pov

I don’t say anything as blood rushes to my head, my knuckles already forming into fists, my jaw clenching and my feet turning around to go find the prick.

“No Theo!’ Y/N says after me, trying to grab my arm and stop me from beating the rat up but I hold her hand as gently as I can and ask her to “Please rest Y/N, I’ll be back soon and I promise I won’t do anything too bad.”

“No Theo, please just drop it, it’s fine.” she tries to reassure me.

“What? No it’s not, first of all, he shouldn’t have touched you in the first place, but to hold you like that and threaten you? He’s begging for it now.” I turn to leave again, trying to find him somewhere in this massive castle, trying to calm down before I remember the look on Y/N’s face and all the anger comes rushing back like an extreme storm wave. Fuck this.

I walk around the castle quickly, keeping my eyes and ears open for any signs of the snake until I catch something near the bushes.

“No man, bitch fucked me right over. Broke my nose and everything. But I mean to be fair I do like them feisty if you know what I mean.” I hear his voice like venom before he laughs with his friends.

Before I know it, I’m being pulled away by Mattheo and Draco as Cormac’s friends grab him by his bloody torn shirt. Splatters of his blood are on mine but nowhere near as bad as his.

I had stayed quiet during the whole fight, speaking only with my punches and getting my message across.

A huge crowd has gathered by this point and I’m being assisted to McGonagall’s office by Mattheo and Draco patting me on the back with the teacher in front of us. I know I’ll get detention for a month, maybe two, and probably won’t be able to play Quidditch for a few weeks either but who cares.

It was for her and I don’t regret a fucking thing.

y/n’s pov

I walk down the great dining hall with everyone's eyes on me, whispering things to people around them. More than usual.

I take my usual seat next to Ginny and Hermione and look around at everyone, asking, “What’s going on?”. Ron, Harry and Hermione look at each other awkwardly before Hermione speaks up, “You don’t know what’s happened?”

“No?”

“That boyfriend of yours beat McLaggen up so bad he’s had to go to St. Mungo’s,” Ron speaks up against the silence and my blood turns cold as my stomach flips over.

“What?!” I say, alarmed.

“Yeah mate, everyone saw it… he was ruthless. Didn’t stop until the bloke couldn’t stand up by himself” Harry agrees with Ron as they turn to look at the Slytherin table behind and see Theo talking normally with his friends.

“He deserved it to be fair, I don’t blame Nott for beating him up the way he did.” Hermione says before asking about my hand.

“It’s all fine now, nothing major just a few broken bones.” I say turning my wrist and flexing my fingers before turning to Ron and answering his previous accusation, “And he’s not my boyfriend Ron, he’s just a friend.”

“Yeah well Harry and Cho Chang are friends but you don’t see him going around beating Cedric up.” Ron says stupidly, making Ginny tense up and Hermione glare at him from across the table as I take Ginny’s hand under it.

“Hey Hermione do you have a spare paper and quill?” I ask after we’ve all eaten our dinner and most of the people in the dining hall have cleared off.

“Yes of course, what for?” she asks, pulling a blank piece of paper and quill out of her bag and passing it to me. “I need to send a note.” I say vaguely before scribbling down:

meet me in the astrology tower after curfew.

I pull my wand out of my pocket and perform the paper bird charm, passing the note to Theo on the other side of the hall.

We all watch as he receives it, reads it and looks up at me, and winks. He asks Pansy for a quill and writes back:

See you there darling

I smile, putting the note into my pocket as Hermione squeals at me, Harry smiles and Ron makes a face of throwing up. “And that Ronald, is why you still don’t have a date to the Yule Ball. Speaking of which Harry do you have yours yet?” 

“Yep, I do actually.”

“Oh yeah? Who is it?” Ron asks looking over at Harry. Hermione and I give each other a knowing look as Harry says, “Uhm, I’m not at liberty to say.”

Harry gets up to leave to escape the conversation as Hermione and I laugh after him and Ron trailing not too far behind, pestering Harry and threatening him if it's his sister.

Timeskip

“Hey” I hear a soft deep voice behind me as I stare up at the stars from the tower.

I turn around and find Theo wearing a deep red jumper and red plaid pyjamas, holding two cups of hot chocolate coincidently matching with my red plaid shorts and red jumper with my initial on it, courtesy of Mrs Weasley of course.

We smile at each other as he comes close and asks how my hand is, “All better, see” I flex my hand once again to prove it to him and we sit in silence for a few minutes drinking the hot chocolate he’d gotten from the kitchen.

“So,” he starts slowly sipping his hot chocolate and looking over at me in the dim light, “What did you want to talk about?”

I take a breath before answering, “Why did you do that?”

His eyebrows furrow, “Do what?”

I give him a knowing look and he looks away with a smile in response which drops quickly when thoughts of Cormac come back in his mind. “Guy’s a git. Doesn’t deserve you.” He says plainly bringing the cup to his lips again. I look at him for a minute, observing his long eyelashes and soft skin and look away just when he looks at me.

“Have you got a date to the ball yet?” He says in the comfortable silence.

I look back at him getting lost for a moment in his soft blue eyes. I shake my head in response.

He nods, looking down before downing the rest of his hot chocolate and standing up.

He reaches out a hand towards me and pulls me up from my place on the stairs and says, “Would you go with me if I asked?”

I look up at his eyes once again, seeing a hint of fear behind the blue, “If you asked dickhead.”

He laughs at this, nods and kisses me on the cheek before leaving.

“See you later star.”

“Star?” I say in question, my cheeks burning from his touch.

He doesn’t say a word or turn around, but simply holds out his middle finger, flipping me off which confuses me more until I see the silver ring I made him resting at the bottom of it.

I smile to myself as he walks away, leaving my face flushed and heart swollen.

What am I getting myself into.

[lichtbrenger]

the guy that hung the stars

[vanillaboyfriend]

i don’t feel like posting pictures. but y3s? long socks? nice pants? cute sweater? AND curls peeking out from under the hat?? i’m eatin so good. ok edit be warned before you expand tags on this i went on a giant rant about nicks clothes whoops lol it is HUGE

[tonycries]

Give Me Tough Love

Synopsis. What happens when your boyfriend just so happens to be mad at you? Well, your poor pússy might just know the answer.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brat-taming, angry séx, oral (male + female receiving), víbrators (Nanami’s), manhandling, unprotected, spanking (Sukuna’s), thigh-riding, intercrural, mentions of Higuruma and Shiu, cúmplay, bunch of heinous stuff idek, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.2k

A/N. Smh I’m sick, try not to catch my virtual cold.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Dirty mouth? He’ll fix it.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he spits, Toji’s hand tightening around your throat, pathetic little gurgles going straight to his cock. “Because I know you aren’t talking back to me like a lil’ slut unless you want to be treated like one.”

“T-Toji m’sorry- mpfh-” Greedily taking in the way your your mouth drops into a soft little oh! as he grazes his fat tip across your lips, glossing your lips so fucking filthily with his precum, all pretty and dripping down to your chin. Hot and angry, and at perfect eye-level for you.

 Hand moving up to pry your swollen mouth open, “You’re only sorry cuz yer gonna get what you’ve been askin’ for, doll.” 

You’d been extra mouthy with him today, all sass and snipey comments like you just wanted this to happen. And it only took one offhand remark about how Shiu probably lasts longer in bed before Toji’s pushing you onto your knees, hand at your throat, breath hot against your ear. And, well, that smart mouth can do nothing but beg for mercy now.

Toji scoffs, snapping you out of your daze, “Nothin’ to say now, huh?” edging his hips closer “Open wide f’me now, yeah- jus’ like that- m’gonna clean out this dirty lil’ mouth of yours. Hngh-”

And with that Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A raw little grunt leaving the back of his throat as your lips stretch so sinfully around his thick cock, and if he angled his head just right he could see the way your throat was bulging and full of him. “Shit, doll. Look at you struggling to take me.”

And Toji’s so mean - not even easing you into it before he’s thrusting in harsh, quick little strokes into your heavenly mouth. “Hah- Hard to take me all?” he taunts, loving the way you’re choking and gagging all around him. 

Pulling you down on his swollen cock till your nose is pressed against those tufts of black hair at his base. So wet with precum and spit. “Shouldn’t be, no? Ngh- A lil’ slut with such a fucking filthy mouth like you should take me s’easily.”

All he gets in response is a low, wet moan, muffled around his cock. One that goes straight to his twitching balls. Smacking your chin with each thrust, so hard he’s sure it hurts. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, chuckling, “Heh, forgot you can’t speak with m’dick lodged in your throat, huh?”

And oh Toji almost considers going easy on you at the messy state of your mascara, and the way you bat your lashes tearily up at him. It’s only when you flick your tongue so sluttily underneath his sensitive tip in a way you knew would drive him wild that all thoughts of that go out the window. “So you like this, huh?”

Voice so low and dangerous it makes your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? You don’t even know because Toji has his hand wrapped around your throat again, hip stuttering filthily. 

And then it’s like something snaps because Toji’s ruining your pretty face. Abs flexing as he drags your head up and down up and down up and- like some toy. God, he thinks, it’s fucking hard to look at you too - so sloppy with the way precum and spit was dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his dick bulging in and out of your throat. In and out in and out in and- 

“Might let out a few tears, but I know that slutty lil’ cunt of yours has never been wetter.”

Reaching blindly to feel for his phone, he punches in that familiar contact. Cock twitching inside your plushy mouth at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Sputtering around his dick - but you can’t run away, because Toji has a hand firm on your head, pushing you down. Still fucking your pretty lil’ mouth while the line rings once. Twice. 

“Don’t act so suprised, doll. All Shiu and I are gonna do is fuck some manners into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Karma’s a bitch

“Mhm, yes, Higuruma. I’ve told the supervisor to email me the documents. Oh? In the background?” 

His darkened eyes sweep your figure - wrists tied, soaking through your panties, swollen lips falling into a little oh! at the bullet vibrator buzzing maddeningly in your dripping cunt. All controlled by the man himself, watching you like a hawk from the corner of the bedroom. “Must be the wind.” 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“Kento- please, wan’ cum. Ngh-” you whine pathetically. But it all falls on deaf ears, because Nanami only manspreads further on the armchair, a long finger unhurriedly coming up to signal you to be quiet as he continues on his business call. 

Intensity setting 1.

Oh you could just cry. How did you even get here? 

All you did was send him a few photos in his favorite lingerie while he was at work - who knew that Nanami would end up clocking early, coming straight home to absolutely fucking ruin you for that little stunt that had him sporting a rock-hard boner all through an important meeting. 

“A voice? Ah, yes.” and that snaps you out of your little reverie. You blink at the flash of amusement in Nanami’s eyes as he continues the call. “Yes, a little fight as all couples have. Y’know how it is.”

Intensity setting 2.

You jolt at the stimulation, body jerking up for some - any - friction. “Kento~” you choke, tears clinging to your eyes now. 

But oh where Nanami was usually gentle touches and sweet, sweet love - he was so fucking mean now. Licking his lips at the slick dribbling down your legs so sloppilly, spreading in such an obscene pool on the sheets below. Frustrated tears cling to your lashes - you just wanted to fucking cum. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say she’s mad at me.”

Intensity setting 3.

No, you were fucking losing your mind. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt- Blinking tearily at Nanami as his thumb draws quick, relentless little circles on the intensity. The vibrator throbbing against your walls in time with your quivering walls, just grazing that one spot. But purposefully avoiding it so that he could see you fall apart and all desperate. 

He sighs, “I know, I have to make it up to her, right?”

Intensity setting 4.

“You have any ideas, Higuruma? Flowers?” 

“Hngh- Kento- Please, wan’ your cock.” Gritting your teeth so that you won’t just scream or outright demand that Nanami ends the call and makes you cum right now, you settling for low, needy little whimpers of his name. Whiney in just the way you knew he liked. And by the looks of the painfully hard cock straining against his trousers, you knew it was working. 

“Or, chocolates?” 

Maybe it was working too well because Nanami’s amping up his abuse on your cunt. Devouring the way you’re reacting so sensitively to the way he was turning the vibrations up and down. Swollen cock twitching at the wet gasps leaving your mouth, thighs twitching and squeezing together so sluttily to get yourself off. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” you blink away the tears in your eyes to risk a glimpse at the man currently driving you wild. Irritation spiking at the way he was huffing out a laugh, “I could just make her cum hard enough to see stars. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Intensity setting 5.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise - violent and fast. The last thing you see is the cruel little smirk curling Nanami’s lips before he’s setting the phone down with a quick goodbye. And then it’s all stars behind your eyelids as you finally cum, not even caring if whoever’s on the phone hears the strangled yelp of “Ah! Kento, m’cumming m’- hah-”

And it’s all you can do to ride your high out on the vibrations still stimulating your sore cunt. So sensitive and maddening that you almost miss the metallic clinking of a belt.

Ringing in the heady air, the complete opposite of the voice to suddenly very close against your ear, low and hoarse with desire, “Now, think it’s time for me to make it up to you. Hm, sweetheart?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Work for it!

“Get off on m’thigh, or you’re not getting off at all.”

Geto’s had enough of the cold shoulder today before he decides you’re getting one too - even when you’re needy and sat so prettily on his lap. It was only fair, right? Which is why he swats away the hand reaching for his aching cock, angry and throbbing in his fist. Twitching in his hand at the adorable little pout playing on your lips, “Nuh uh, bad girls don’t get what they ask for.”

“But Sugu~” you whine, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. “Already said I was sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it for that attitude you were givin’ me earlier, gorgeous.” he cuts you off, leaning back comfortably on the chair. Smirk only widening at the way your eyes were so deliriously locked on the way his fist starts moving in slow, languid little strokes up and down his swollen cock. “Now, y’gonna fuck that pretty lil’ cunt on my thigh or just watch? S’fine f’me either way.”

You huff at the way he was being so mean - letting a beat of silent staredown pass. One. Two. Cunt so achingly wet and dripping all over where you straddled Geto’s muscular thigh.

“Fine.”

You feel so dirty dragging your pussy all over his thigh like some bitch in heat. Your clit pressing down on his skin hard. “Sugu!” you yelp, hands reaching up to play with your sensitive nipples, still rocking your hips sloppily. 

Fuck does he love your little show - and you can see it too. Catching the way his balls squeeze painfully, brows furrowing and locked on the way your folds were spread apart so sluttily. 

“All that talk but look at y’now.” he hums. And Geto knows he’s supposed to be punishing you, but he can’t stop the way he starts bouncing his leg to meet your grinds. “What’ve ya gotta say for yourself now, my lil’ slut?” 

“M’sorry!” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself as he fucks you on his thigh. So hot and messy. His skin glistening in the dim light with all your sweet sweet juices, trailing down to the cushion below and pooling at his heavy balls. And Geto was such a fucking picture - hair falling over his shoulders, bottom lip bitten, cock so long and mouthwateringly hard, flushed your favorite shade of pink at the tip.

Only bouncing his leg faster at your cute lil’ whines, like he was turning you into his slut - hit stupid lil’ slut. And all you can sputter out are strained little “M’sorry m’sorry jus’ lemme touch you. Wanna touch you-”

He cuts you off with a desperate, desperate kiss. A permission. A surrender. And you taste the sin and the satisfied little grin on his lips as you reach for his heavy cock. Drinking in the low hiss at the back of Geto’s throat as you start stroking him in quick, desperate tugs. 

And he lets you. 

Hips bucking to chase the feeling of your soft hand wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Faster. Your nails delicately tracing the pulsing veins along the side, swirling under his slit because shit you might act like it’s a punishment but you’ve never been wetter. “Fuck this hand was made f’me, you were made f’me.”

Previous anger forgotten - perhaps in some miraculous act of mercy - Geto couldn’t even care less if it was all sloppy, mindless little tugs and grinds, high off of your desperation. In fact, Geto wasn’t any better with the way he was snaking a hand down to draw steady, lazy little circles on your swollen lips.

Whispering against your lips, “Make us cum within the next five seconds or you’re going back to getting off on my thigh and nothing else.” Oh. Not an act of mercy.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Evil twin

“Sorry-” he’s murmuring into your neck, lifting your leg just a little bit higher to slide his cock messily between your swollen folds. “Ngh- sorry, baby. Fuck.”

Choso can’t even remember why he’s pissed off - or that useless little argument that led to this - but when Choso’s angry, it’s like he flips a switch. Such a silent tease where he’s usually all lingering kisses and everything you could ever want. 

Which is why he’s got you splayed out on your side, angry, red tip kissing your entrance in a way that was so filthy. 

“Cho, jus’ gimme your cock.” You arch your back, rubbing so deliciously against his abs, flexing with the strain to not just plunge into your pretty lil’ cunt right now. “Jus’ want you inside me. Please?” And shit Choso must be really pissed off because he doesn’t waver even at the way you bat your lashes at him, instead resorting to leaning down and kissing that adorable pout off your lips. 

He bites down on your bottom lip, tugging ever-so-slightly as he starts sliding his cock inbetween your pretty thighs. Creating such a sticky mess as he moves in slow, shallow little thrusts - Choso was always so sloppy. And such a fucking tease as he angles his hips to just graze your swollen clit.

You gasp into his open mouth, mewling out a strained lil’ “Ah! W-wait what’re you doi-”

“Fucking getting myself off, what does it look like doll?”

Fuck, he was really mad. But that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck to glare at him - eyes traitorously drinking in his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, stray strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead while he meets your gaze head-on. Unwavering. 

“Bit rude to get off by yourself, huh?” you scoff, raising a brow at the slow smirk curling his lips. 

“You’d know a lot about being rude, huh?”

You don’t even have the time to react to his sheer audacity because Choso’s snaking down a hand to toy with your swollen clit. Still rocking his hips between your thighs. Loving the way all you can do is buck into his touch and whine so prettily as he rolls the sensitive bud between two long fingers. “But since I’m so fuckin’ nice, you better thank me, baby.”

“Y’like this?” he hums hoarsely, playing with your needy clit. Index circling your hole, just barely dipping in before he’s swiftly moving back to rub delicate patterns on the bud. “Could’ve gotten more if you hadn’t run that pretty lil’ mouth earlier.” 

“B-but I want more.” you’re babbling deliriously, trying to meet his relentless little rhythm on your cunt. Just wishing that he would fuck you like you wanted him to. But no - not yet.

“More? You think you deserve more?”

“Yes!” and it sounds like a sob that goes straight to his cock. “Wan’ more please. Was wrong- ah- I was wrong-”

Choso isn’t even sure if you remember what you two were fighting about, but that doesn’t stop him from having such fun bullying you - high off the power and the way your cunt tries to clench around his fingers. And especially your little surrender. 

“Exactly what I was waitin’ for.”

It’s like something snapped because Choso’s bullying his fingers in between your folds, curling deftly against that one gummy spot he knows will have you letting out such cute lil’ whines. Hitting that spot over and over as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt. Letting you soak him in all your sweet juices.

And you’re so sensitive and needy that all that spills from your lips are mewls of, “Oh- hngh- Choso Choso- yes, jus’ like that. Faster.”

Maybe for the first time tonight, Choso listens. Movements getting so sloppy and frantic as he chases your high. And occasionally you get such a delicious taste of his throbbing cock as his hips get erratic, fucking himself on your thighs.

You cum with a strangled gasp of Choso’s name, hips bucking wildly. White-hot pleasure running down your spine, and your blood roaring in your ears. It’s all you can do to milk his fingers the way you would with his cock as you ride out your high. 

But luckily for you, you feel his weeping tip nudging your quivering hole. So heavy, precum mixing with your slick in such a sinful combination.  Breath hot against your ear as he whispers a quiet little, “Actually, m’really fucking not sorry.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Plaything!

“Fuckin’” he kisses his teeth, hand raising up, up, up - coming down swiftly- Smack! “Brat.”

“Oh- Hngh p-please.” you gasp, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Nails digging into his shoulders for some - any - mercy from where you’re sat prettily on his lap, throbbing cock stuffed in your cunt. Hard and aching. Yet still unmoving. 

Thumb drawing lazy little circles on your clit, fast enough to have your thighs quivering on his lap, but slow enough to not give you exactly what you want - he’s been teasing you for hours now.

“P-pleeease.” he mocks, voice so dramatically whiny, swatting your ass again. Sukuna doesn’t even know why he’s fucking pissed off, he just likes seeing you all teary and letting out such cute lil’ whines, trying to eagerly to please him. Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make it cock so painfully hard watching you try to grind your pretty pussy down on his cock? Fuck yeah.

Which is why he watches you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, and oh how he loves taking in this heavenly sight. Your cunt spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him.  

His messy girl. It almost makes him want to play nice.

Smack! And that has you keening, pressing your sensitive tits harder against his front. “What do you want, brat?”

Your breath hitches, words shaky, “Want your cock, ‘Kuna-”

But the only response you get is a huffed out dark chuckle. Strong arms spreading your legs even further as Sukuna leans leisurely against the headboard. He scoffs, loving the way you were always the cutest when he played mean. “You already have it in your pretty lil’ cunt, want more could you want?”

“W-wan’ you to fuck me,” a hand trailing down to massage his heavy balls, moving your hips in slutty circles to meet his, milking him inside you. “Wan’ you to fill me up with your cum till m’dumb. Till everyone’s gonna know- Ah- ple-”

Oh how he loved all your dirty little tricks. “Hm, ya really were desperate for my cock, huh?” he grits out, jaw clenched and eyes locked on the way your dripping cunt was swallowing him up so deliciously. Like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Ya really that cock-hungry, brat?”

Smack! Speeding up his movements on your clit, your pathetic little sob rings in Sukuna’s ears and goes all the way down to his twitching dick. Massaging your plushy walls just right.

That makes you mewl and buck wildly, slurring out, “Yes! Wan’ed so bad. Wanted to be split a-apart hngh- on yer cock n’ filled to the brim.” 

Fuck, Sukuna bites his lower lip, do you even have any idea what you’re saying?

He doubts it - and he doesn’t give a fuck because before you know it, your hands are pinned behind your back, and Sukuna’s fucking up into you in one, harsh thrust. 

“Said you wan’ my cock, n’ you’re gonna get it brat.”

Messy and desperate as you’re being split apart by his massive cock, starting to ram into you with wreckless abandon. And you can do nothing but take it because Sukuna’s holding you still, arching you impossibly deeper into him.

“Kuna- mm ngh-”

“So cockdrunk that you can’t even speak, huh?” he’s high off of the way your words are a strangled mess. Such a pity you couldn’t do anything else either - with the way he was holding you still. Like some fucktoy from the depths of his treasury. Grip bruising on your arms, only being able to let out such pathetic lil’ ah! ah! ah! against his ear each time his cock hits your bruised cervix. 

“This what my little slut wanted?” His hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. Hungry gaze appreciatively taking in the way your head was lolling against his shoulder, so cock-drunk and delirious already. “Now, don’t act so fucked out, brat. We’re only getting started.”

Well, he didn’t say he was going to be nice. Now, did he?

♡ GOJO SATORU - Candy for a bad day

“Had a bad day.” It’s all that announces Gojo’s arrival. 

Startled, you whirl his head to catch that an uncharacteristic little sigh, he’s pulling his blindfold down haphazardly, raising his eyes to meet yours and oh-

Fuck, you weren’t going to make it out alive.

And Gojo wasn’t sure whether he would either with the way he was immediately slamming the front door shut, lips searing on yours as he shoves you against the adjacent wall with a soft thud! 

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” you sputter, head spinning because he was here and then kneeling in front of you so fast you think he might’ve teleported there. Hand groping every inch of you he could reach, thumbing over your hardened nipples. Drawing little circles on your hips as he looks at you through heavy, half-lidded eyes.

You try to talk back some semblance of sanity into him, “Satoru, what happ-”

“Shut up. Those annoying old fuckers always fuckin’ piss me off. Dunno why you fuckin’ made me attend that meeting.” 

Oh. That’s what happened. 

Heaving in a shaky gasp, you let him all but rip off your skirt. Flinging them to God-knows-where with the audacity of a man that would buy you ten new ones to replace it. Gojo’s mouth falls into a soft little oh! at the heavenly sight of your already-soaked panties.  

“Swear m’gonna purple hollow them all one day.” he murmurs into your pretty pussy, tongue darting out to draw lazy patterns along your slit. “Gonna have ‘em begging for their lives.”

Words muffled around the flimsy fabric - ones he rips clean off your hips with one hand. Not even letting you flinch at the cool air before Gojo’s pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips. Staring right in your eyes while he pops them into your mouth, sucking them clean and glistening with saliva in the dim light. 

“Oh.” Eyes rolling to the back of his at the taste of your sweet lil’ cunt. “You always taste s’fucking perfect f’me. Can’t believe you’ve been fucking holdin’ out on me.”

And maybe Gojo loses his patience - maybe his sanity - because one taste, and he’s hooked. Diving face-first into your clothed cunt, breathing in your scent so fucking lewdly.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you whisper breathlessly, gripping those soft white locks for some stability. The only reply you get is Gojo licking long, languid stripes up your swollen folds. Your slick glossing his ruby lips, trailing down his chin. “It feels s’good.”

And he’s so uncharacteristically messy - making out with your sloppy pussy like it’s his last meal. All pure desperation, lips puckering so prettily around your swollen clit as he sucks on it harshly. Rolling his tongue over and over and-

“Hate that you made me go. They drive me crazy, y’know.” he slurs lowly into your sensitive cunt. Vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. “Makes me wanna wish I could stay home with you, eating this cute lil’ cunt out all day.” 

“Wha- what nonsense, Toru.”

“Your cunt is addictive, pretty.”

You barely even notice the way that he’s the one holding you up, throwing a leg over his shoulder, looping and arm around your waist to pull you deeper onto this tongue. Close. So close. “Hngh- Toru-”

“Close?” he murmurs, muffled. “Can feel y’clenching around m’tongue, y’know. How am I supposed to tonguefuck my pretty girl if she’s sucking the soul outta me?”

He was such a little tease. Becoming as frantic and sloppy as you - dripping all over the hardwood floor with a maddening tap! tap! tap!

And despite the way he was devouring you - licking all over your pussy, tongue dipping in and out of your slutty hole - Gojo still finds it in himself to run his mouth. Babbling about how he’s gonna destroy the elders all while you’re in shambles above him. 

“Hah- Toru, shit I’m close. M’gonna-”

“Give it to me, my girl. Wanna taste y’on my tongue.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes and Gojo’s tongue fucking you through your high as you grind down on his pretty face. Dragging your dripping cunt all over till it’s so messy that it makes your cheeks burn. 

But Gojo doesn’t mind - of course, he doesn’t. In fact, his glossy lips only turn up into a slow, sly smirk as he stands up slowly from the ground.

“C’mon, gotta punish you proper now, princess.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.