#thank you for trying so hard with what you were given

[takes1]

[final part] kuroo x hard to get!reader

ohhh this was a fun little series. thanks for the support :)

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. face sitting / riding kuroo / pining!kuroo / complicated crushes / hard to get!reader / switch!reader / switch!kuroo / rbf!reader / manager!reader / whiny!kuroo / training camp setting / degradation kink / quickie / play fighting kink / kuroo with a big ego / player!kuroo / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu here. part one. part two. requests open.

There was only a small pause, short enough for him to realize what you were doing.

"Please just come in," He sighed, candid and contrite, "Until the storm passes."

At this point, you were both locked in a tense game of chess, unwilling to sacrifice too much truth at any given point, but unable to stop playing until somebody won. You let him slip your raincoat off of you and hang it up, gentle, attentive, playing eye tag for the length of time it took to close and lock the door.

The kitchen stole your attention almost right away, filled with the sounds of a ritual slaughter. The shouting was accusatory and excited, like someone had been deeply wronged.

"Stop that before you set something on fire!" Kuroo shouted.

He picked up the peace offering and carried it towards his needy, weary team.

Your eyes widened a little at his team captain voice, safe to react because his attention was split. You trailed behind him, hesitant, towards the commotion.

"Keep it down. We've got a guest."

The noise was broken for a moment of silence at the presence of hot food, landing right on the dining table, then a million eyes on you.

It looked like everyone was dressed comfortably because there were no girls around. You averted your eyes immediately from the few that were in just their underwear and found that most of them opted for no shirts.

None of them cared very much. They all went in on the giant bag like a pack of starving wolves, shoving each other out of the way, grabbing as many as they could hold all at once. One hit the floor and was picked up, placed right into somebody else's mouth for safe keeping.

You took a step back, closer to Kuroo. He was so tame compared to them. The bag was empty in 20 seconds; it would've been less than that, had they not been fighting over lukewarm scraps.

"Where's your Coach?" You surveyed the room and found nothing but Nekoma players, munching obnoxiously.

It was the most prevalent thing on your mind. You didn't want to be 'caught,' though your surface-level intentions were innocent and backed by evidence.

Right before you left your own team's corresponding lodging, Coach Ukai was rounding up all the guys, trying to put them down for bed like twenty rowdy toddlers. If everyone sat still, you'd be able to still hear him yelling down the pathway.

A short guy you caught earlier today as Yaku answered, between three big bites of a bun, "Oh, Coach Nekomata went to bed, like, an hour ago."

The guy was ancient. It made sense that he wouldn't be as involved as Ukai in his old age, but he also had no need to. His team was well-behaved. Despite their frenzy, they were still a much quieter group than Karasuno.

In fact, after all the initial thanks and praises sung for your angelic timing, it felt too quiet. You wanted to leave, get back to your familiar and fun team, despite the weather. Kuroo could sense it in your stiffness.

The team was preoccupied with their supper. He had to make some bold maneuver, or you would voluntarily forfeit and slink back in the rain- because that was somehow a more appealing option than admitting you wanted to have sex with him.

Fukunaga clocked the complicated mess that was your current dynamic for exactly what it was. Some weirdo mating ritual. First he noticed that Kuroo wasn't eating. Then that he was only speaking to you. He was the ticking clock personified, double fisting two delicious buns without blinking. His unwavering stare cut into you from across the kitchen.

You shivered at the intensity, shifted just a little towards Kuroo with your head turned, defensive, towards the lanky guy. "He's creeping me out."

Kuroo leaned further down to mutter against your hair, dismissive, "Him? Shouhei's harmless."

He lingered, bent at the waist, just to take in another breath of your hair. You smelled so good. He couldn't let you go back just yet.

"How about we go upstairs?"

Aside from Fukunaga, nobody had a mind to notice if you left now. It wasn't a 'Yeah, let's fuck,' but it was close, so you sat in hesitation for a good, still minute.

-

The pace naturally quickened the closer to the door you got, like you were being chased by something. It was mostly the threat of time, but the predatory vibe you both got from each other was substantial, like if you let your guard down for a second, the other would eat you alive.

There was a rushed cadence to the way you entered the room and how he slid the door closed- only slowing to completely lock it as quiet as possible.

Everything was still for a moment. The end game was in sight, and neither of you could predict who would be the first to let up. Would it end here, or as you were coming down?

"What's your deal?"

"What deal?" You snapped, arms crossed, glancing about the large room filled with pallets.

This was so risky. Nothing about the danger of getting caught up here appealed to you. You weren't sure if he understood how comprised you'd be if anyone heard about this- you'd have to quit your manager job, at least.

It made you rigid, inflexible conversationally and physically. He fought the need to cross his arms, too.

"Why did you really come over?" He threw his chin up at you. When he tried to close the distance, he noticed how you took a step back.

The irony was eating him alive; you were so delicate to work with, but merciless in your methods- and you just kept coming back around, sparing no time for him to find just the right angle to work through your impossible armor.

His dismal attitude marked the next words out of his mouth, "You just- get a kick out of torturing me, or something?"

A hum- no, a laugh. He looked at you to figure out what it really was, and found your expression a little softer.

You looked around the room, head rocking side to side, "Mmm...Yeah."

Kuroo rolled his eyes at how much it took for you to be honest with him. He muttered to himself on the way to his bedding. You could leave if you wanted, but he needed to sit down. Dealing with you made him tired.

It was passive enough to get you curious again. You came around eventually, taking the time to mosey through the little aisle of space between where everyone slept. He only looked up from his hands when he felt you sit and lean against his side.

The flinch back was too strong to be ignored. He winced at the way your brows screwed up, forming a negative, probably wrong idea of him already. He could hear you being let down.

"You're all talk," Your voice was kind, dismissive, but your gaze pierced right through him.

He had to act like it didn't hurt, as if you didn't just twist a knife in his stomach.

It wasn't his fault you had conditioned him to be wary of you, if he wanted to stay in your favor- if he wanted a fair chance at pleasing you.

It frustrated him that you put him in a box so quickly, inspiring rough and ready action.

But you didn't back down from the quick, hungry kiss he stole from your parted lips. It was a challenge, after all. You met it, leaned freely into it- fingers filling with his messy, still-wet hair, while he palmed at your waist to pull you into his lap.

"You're not a-," Kuroo cut you off on purpose with another kiss, so you pushed him against the floor, eyes narrowed at his smirk, "You're not a virgin, are you?"

Fingers hooked under the waistband of your pants, searching absentmindedly for your panties, he laughed- genuinely amused.

"Fuck no," Was a sigh, distracted by the subtle but undeniable rock of your hips on top of him.

The sensation was so much better than his hand. He pushed against you, eyes scouring every inch of the perfect sight before him.

"Then why are you acting like one?" You pulled your shirt off, tossing it a reachable distance away.

That look in your eyes was back as you struggled to undo the clasp on your bra for a second; what he could now read as 'You better be worth it.'

Kuroo sat up with a quickness, forcing you to rock back and lean against his thighs, his brow sifting through the implication of your words, but his eyes ready to deliver.

"What, I can't be a little nervous?"

Big, agile hands slid behind you with another crushing kiss.

Your bra was off in half a second, replaced with his warm palms. He groaned against your lips at the feeling- you melted a little into his hasty touch, his wordless declaration of desire.

You arched into his touch, into his kisses descending in a messy, wet flurry down your collarbone and over your perky buds. The addicting sensation of his tongue made your thighs squeeze, your hips to rolling over his with a gasp as you unbuttoned yourself.

Those big hands swallowed up your sides easily, so pleasant compared to the cold air that made your skin prickle.

Soon, you were pushing him again, harder because he wasn't as easy to remove this time.

His eyes searched you, watching you get up and only concerned for a moment before you took the rest of your clothes off, standing over him. He realized he couldn't catch his breath, perfectly still in awe at your confident smile, that self-imposed nudity you used just to get a rise out of him.

"Shit," He groaned. His back of his head hit his pillow and he openly palmed himself to the sight of you.

Those cat-like eyes were blown out, so dark against the whites of his eyes, a little hitch on his breath already before you could even think about sitting back down. You nudged his shin with your foot to bring him back to the land of the living, telling him to take it all off.

The guy was a nice size- worthy of some of his cocky attitude, at least. You sat on him to slide back and forth over him.

"This what you wanted, pretty boy?" Your eyes were smiling, but your little frown was what completed the look for him.

The clipped whine, loud, though it never got past his lips, told you yes.

You put your hands on his chest so he had to watch you slide over his cock, coating him, showing him how wet you had gotten from that killer body he flaunted around so freely. He was kind of a whore, and you wanted him to know it.

It felt heavenly but he would never have guessed it, based on that pissed off pout you still had. His nails dug into the fleshy part of your thighs, a big sigh to collect himself before he let go, hands clasped behind his head. It looked casual, enjoying the view.

"You wanna know what I want?" He teased.

You cocked a brow at him, still using his slippery member to get off with little circles of your hips. He rode a fine line.

"I wantcha to sit on my face."

Kuroo blew a kiss at you. It wasn't the kiss, rather the good idea that made you slow to a stop and hum.

"Oh yeah?" Your low-lidded eyes burned into his soul as you dipped to eye level.

Your breasts squished against him, a thumb brushing his glossy lips- you took his cock with one hand and lined him up against your pussy, sensitive head rubbing back and forth.

The little bit of pressure against you, as he bucked instinctively with a throaty groan, helped your point.

He was under a spell, breath shallow, his fingers coming undone with the built-in need to steady your hips and fuck you already.

You spoke to that struggle in his eyes, "You sure that's what you want?"

Kuroo unlaced his hands and, when you thought you had him, sitting further back on his cock, he pulled you up and off of him.

"Was saving just enough room for dessert, baby," He muttered, dark and restrained, but still managing a little bit of humor to shine through.

He sure did. That slick tongue of his did more than just aggravate the shit out of you- he could guess what you wanted by how you were riding his cock. Nothing too aggressive, just dizzyingly consistent and enthusiastic.

Because it was the notion of worship that got you off. How good did it feel? How much did you want to fuck him? That depended. How bad did he want it?

"F-uck," You moaned under your hand, legs shaking under the locked pull of his arms, "Fuck-mmnh!"

Kuroo's excited, well-placed moans vibrated against you, faltering your balance at the worst of times.

You kept a rough hold in that mess of black hair and rode his flat tongue with no shortage of eye contact.

It was like you hated each other, how vicious those looks got.

You couldn't stand it. You'd be damned before you came on his tongue. He was going to give you your orgasm with his cock.

When you tried to get off, he readjusted his grip, stronger-- you had to start prying his fingers, one by one, off of your thighs. He loved how whiny and cute you got in the struggle, but noticed you never once begged him to stop.

You jumped, failing one last time to get his arm off, at his silly groan buzzing against your clit, "Ah-!"

It took pressing your palms against his face to get him to let go.

His gaze was brutal, taking in the way your legs shook, as he pushed the rest of you off of his chin and onto his aching cock.

There was no point in changing positions. It was obvious you wanted to be on top. He wanted the view.

"O-ohh," You threw your head back, eyes screwed shut, at that perfect, pretty cock stuffed in you.

Your tight pussy took the breath out of him. His hands filled with your hips, bringing you slow, up and down over what you had been too proud to admit that you needed.

His low-lidded eyes took in every curve of your perfect body, every little bounce he fucked into you, especially the shocked expression taking your face. It wasn't dissimilar to what you had looked like watching him earlier that day.

"That feel good, pretty girl?" He raked his nails gently across your thighs.

He seethed at the intense feeling of you starting to fuck him right back. It was a move he hadn't experienced yet with any other partners.

And you got to watch him completely unravel before your glossy eyes.

"F-uck-!" He gasped, "H-oh, shit," was spilling out of his mouth, between the light sounds of him bottoming out into your soaking wet cunt.

His brows were screwed up, real vulnerable- it sent a chill through you and ended swirling up fast, turning into tension in your tummy that he threatened to fill.

You prayed nobody was in the hallway, or they'd be able to hear some downright incriminating sounds.

Your palm pressed over his loud mouth, barely swallowing your own whimpering to tell him, "Shh..."

The way you threw your weight back into his thrusts demanded a very whiny cry into your hand. You knew it; you knew he was a whiny fuck. You clocked him so well from the very beginning.

Maybe he would've been more of a dominant presence if he was used to dealing with girls like you- or maybe he liked giving up some responsibility, once in a while.

His big, strong hands groped at your tits as they bounced, brushing his skin just enough to get some sharp, rolling pleasure.

He slowed, his hips rolling deep into you- he moved out of your hand and took a breath through his mouth to gasp.

"You better not cum before me," You warned, a little stilted because of how close you were, but deadly serious.

Your resting face was just so bitchy. You looked like you hated him, but loved his cock by the way you fucked him.

Kuroo kept his edge at bay with his eyes unfocused, trying not to watch you. Just for you, just so he could feel you cum first.

He was so grateful -barely holding on, just a dumb toy for you to fuck at this point-, to hear a high-pitched break in your gasps, "Mm-!"

"A-h-mmn-!" You kept your sounds muffled so well with one hand, forcing him to keep his at bay with the other.

The tension in your face was incredibly cute. Probably the only look of its kind, when it came to what you were willing to show him.

It was all he could do to fuck you to the height of it, rough but so dangerously close after that he had to pull out halfway through yours.

And boy, were you glad to be keeping him quiet. That guy could wake up the whole camp if he wanted to.

He came all over his own tummy, sweaty and out of breath, not even pushing back against your hand. He looked exhausted. You were tired, too, but didn't wear it as clearly. You spared a minute to catch your breath.

A slow, little peck to his forehead.

"All talk."

You slid your hand off of him and composed yourself enough to stand, gathering up your clothes. You grinned at the deep frown you were able to conjure while he was still swimming in post-orgasm bliss.

Kuroo groaned, sleepy and filling back up with something unpleasant, running his fingers through hair. He sat up, still glossy with cum.

You were nearly dressed when he was carefully pulling his pants back on.

He was so broody at your words, grumpy when you got a tiny glance at his face- there was a shared, quiet understanding that he still needed to walk you back, so you quietly waited for him to wipe off in the bathroom and pull a jacket on.

The journey to get out the door was comical and exaggerated in nature. Lots of looking around corners, waiting for people to get distracted, for you to slip outside. Thankfully his team weren't concerned with your whereabouts.

Kuroo still had not said a thing to you until you were back at Karasuno's lodging. You had already made your peace with this as the end of it, entirely, and understood he wouldn't want to look at you again after tonight.

When you about to turn, to go inside, he spoke up.

"Did you get what you wanted?"

It was mean and assuming. You deserved it a little.

"Did you?"

He deserved it too. It felt like you both lost, in a way.

You leaned into a last-second kiss, hands coming out of your pockets to run your fingers through his hair again. It fell naturally into a very long, lustful thing between you. His hands pulled you against him, hot and heavy, hardly ready to let go when you heard some stirring from inside.

"Fuck, no," He admitted, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.

The door was unlocking.

"It's a long training camp."

You said it vague enough so Daichi would have no idea what you meant as you walked by him.

He threw a hard look to Kuroo before closing the door, who returned it tenfold.

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[demon-country]

Oh good, I'm glad this hasn't come off as me trying to pick a fight. I enjoy discussing how people came to the conclusions they did (as long it's not with someone who outright hates the characters in question), but I know not everyone does.

And I mean, sure, there's no concrete evidence that he knows their names, but there's not any that he doesn't, either. Given what we do know about him though and given how much time has past, it makes far less sense to lean towards the negative assumption. Like I said, we know, for a fact, that Blitz and Stolas have interacted through multiple phone calls specifically talking about what Blitz has been up to in his day to day life and on social media, with the subtext being that they both happened often enough to be significant, and the idea that Blitz has somehow never mentioned those two by name within the year and a half they were in contact is incredibly implausible.

Well yes, the interactions Stolas has on screen with his current butler have been pretty bad (and in Seeing Stars was outright abusive, and although it was done because he was so blinded by rage at Stella that he didn't realize how hard he was squeezing, that's no excuse and we have no way of knowing if he even apologized for it or not). He definitely developed more racial and class biases as he grew up and was influenced by the other Goetia and undoubtedly also by the media he consumed, but that's rather beside my point. My point in bringing up his former butler was that he's proof that Blitz is not the first imp that Stolas has genuinely, personally cared about, which is what you insinuated. Or at least, what it seemed like you were insinuating?

I rather doubt that Stolas does care about the other members of I.M.P on a personal level or that they care about him on a personal level, because it's very unlikely that they've had any meaningful interactions other than when Stolas was dying of blood loss and potentially him thanking them for it. But he doesn't have to care about them to know their names or to know some stuff about them. As long as Blitz talked about them enough - and it'd be far stranger if he didn't bring them up fairly often when talking about his day or in his posts on social media, when they're the only people in his social circle and he works/lives with them - then Stolas would inevitably know their names just by sheer repetition.

Hence why I said it was in pretty bad faith to assume he doesn't know their names. I do wish we had seen them interact more, but to be fair the only times that we've seen Stolas at all up until now is mostly just for the scenes that set up future plot points for him and Blitz.

I suppose we'll only know for sure if they address it next episode though.

Does Stolas deserve to lose everything?

The answer is a simple: No! Of course not!

What happened to Stolas in Mastermind was horrible, he essentially lost everything he ever knew in a very cruel and unusual way, and the real kicker is the fact that the punishment is rather light in comparison to the punishment Blitz would have gotten if he hadn't stepped in.

But why did it happen? Simple.

It happened for the sake of Stolas' future character development.

It didn't happen to "punish" Stolas when the man really only has the best of intentions.

Surprise! Surprise!

I want to highlight this specific statement Apology Tour's description states: Stolas still not being quite self aware enough at times.

Stolas genuinely does not know what is wrong between them, he genuinely can not understand the issues

If there is one thing Stolas has always wanted to know, it's the why...

Why is Blitz so guarded with me? Why does Blitz accuse me of looking down on him? Why does Blitz always mention my Princely status when talking about our relationship?

And here's the thing, even if Blitz were to sit Stolas down calmly and explain the why, Stolas will never get it. He will never understand it.

Stolas will never understand the struggles Blitz went through and still goes through just by living as an imp.

Blitz is an asshole, but you can't say he isn't determined.

When Blitz wants something so fucking bad, he'll get it, it doesn't matter who he needs to steal from, who he needs to fuck, who he needs to kill, lie, and cheat with... He's going to get it.

Blitz wants to be his own boss, he doesn't want to be like any other imp who works for someone else, so he'll do whatever it takes to make that dream a reality.

And the thing is Stolas wants to do better and understand Blitz's point of view... he states it time and time again.

Unless it's me And no matter what in this world I could give It's not enough To get through the walls you've conjured up to live

But maybe it's all on me For missin' every sign and every glance And every turn

Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean For you to teach, and me to try to learn

~~~

The sad part is that Stolas is just going to have to learn it the hard way because where's the fun in just giving Stolas a book to read...

[eddiazx]

juno part 2 - evan buckley x reader

part 1 here!

There are many words in the English language to describe Buck. Loving, stubborn, intelligent, a human form of sunshine, are just a few.

A damn tease, is another description.

After using the handcuffs on him, it was now your turn in the metaphorical hot seat. Your hands were chained to the headboard of the bed, and Buck had spent the past half-hour kissing, licking, and sucking on practically every part of your body, except where you needed him to. You couldn't grab onto his curls with your restrained hands and direct him where you needed him, and no amount of pleading on your part was getting your boyfriend to take mercy on you.

He bites the sensitive part of your inner thigh, and you try to push yourself down and off the bed so that your core was in front of Buck's face. To no avail - Buck leans away from you, smirking.

"What's the rush, sweetheart? We have all day."

"Please, Buck, please. I need you inside me, filling me up like only you can." You babble incoherently, on the brink of delusion.

Buck groans at your words. His weakness was you talking dirty to him, ammo that you pull out at opportune times to get what you want. It works 100% of the time, because Buck finally takes ahold of himself and sinks into you to the hilt.

Your moans harmonize together as Buck starts to move, hips grinding against yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses there. Buck trails his fingers down between the tight space between your bodies and circles your clit, and like a dam breaking, you come hard. When he feels you clench around him like a vice, he lets go as well.

Buck reaches over to the nightstand to grab the keys and un-cuffs you.

"You okay?" He murmurs gently, a stark contrast to the cocky guy a few minutes ago, while he rubs on the skin of your wrists where the cuffs had dug in a little too hard.

You smile softly and place an appreciative kiss on Buck's lips.

"More than."

BONUS:

Come to Buck’s place, alone. Don’t tell anyone was your text to Hen. 

Hen is expecting and fearing the worst, because what else is she supposed to do with an ominous message like that? She would’ve called Athena for backup if you hadn’t specified the alone part. 

Hen uses the key Buck and you had given her for emergencies. She doesn’t hear much downstairs, so she gingerly makes her way up the loft stairs towards the open bedroom, calling out both of your names, before she stalls at the top stairs and takes in the sight before her.

Both you and Buck stare back, sheepishly. You’re both naked, in the middle of the bed, each with one hand cuffed to the headboard. Buck lays semi on top of you, trying to cover you up as much as possible, but was displaying his bare butt in doing so.

Hen splutters, not even sure where to start but also wondering what gods she might’ve angered to find herself in the same position twice. 

Resigned, Hen eventually asks for the keys, to which Buck points to foot of the bed, where he had accidentally tossed the keys in the heat of the moment. Hen picks up the keys and moves to un-cuff the two of you, when Buck stops her.

"You can just put them right here, Hen. Thanks."

Hen shakes her head, and leaves the loft. All my friends are freaks, she thinks.

[crowandmousewritingco]

We Liked Your Vibe

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader x Din Djarin

Words: 3.4 k

Rating: M (it's mostly smut folks)

Summary: Din promised Dieter to a threesome, and you have caught their attention.

Author: Mod Mouse (I know I'm not dead)

Note: Happy Holidays everyone! This is my gift to @guelyury for the secret santa exchange set up by @dieterbravobrainrotclub! Thank you @sp00kymulderrI for setting this up! I hope you enjoy your gift.

On another note, I hope to start getting back in the grove of writing. With the semester wrapped up and my life in general calming down, I hope to start posting fics again. I don't think it will be as often as I was (I can't believe I somehow put two fics a week out lol) But I'll figure out something that works. Anyways onto the smut!

“Oh what about that one?” Dieter asked excitedly, nodding in the direction of a goth looking person strolling up to the bar. 

Din glanced up from his whiskey, the melting ice giving a small tink against the glass. His gaze took in the figure, but he shook his head. “Not that one. Came in with a partner.” 

Dieter signed dramatically and slumped over the bar counter. Din slid his drink away to keep him from knocking it over. This wasn’t the first time tonight. “Diiiiiiiiin” Dieter whined. “That’s the third one you’ve said no to tonight.” 

“Yes but all you’ve shown me are couples. I said they had to be single,” Din replied raising his highball glass to his lips. 

Dieter stuck his tongue out at him before turning his head to survey the room. His dark eyes roamed the space once again. So many people with others. ‘Was no one single in the tristate area anymore?’ The thought crossed his mind and he sighed. Maybe it was just going to be him and Din tonight. 

That was until you saddled up to the bar, seemingly with the weight on the world on your shoulders. Dieter’s head poked up as you ordered a shot of tequila. You sprinkled some salt on the crook of your thumb as the bartender set the glass in front of you. Quickly you lapped the salt up with one hand and down the shot in the other, the sting of the alcohol barely affecting you. 

Without looking away, Dieter tugged on Din’s sleeve. “What about that one?” 

Din sighed, only getting slightly fed up with his husband. But when his eyes took you in, something stirred in him. You were very attractive to say the least despite not trying too hard. The favorite shirt that you choose, more for comfort than for attraction, stuck to you in all the right places leaving Din with a nice outline to admire. 

Din hummed which was the most approval he had given all night. Dieter smiled a big goofy grin and practically jumped from the barstool. Though he quickly straightened his outfit to make himself just a tad bit more presentable. Din followed soon and Dieter quickly grabbed his hand dragging the older man over. 

You hadn’t noticed them approach, your mind wiring a thousand thoughts a second. It was only when you heard someone say “Ya know we saw you from across the bar and we like your vibe.” You glanced up and blushed as you took in the odd couple. One man dressed in what you would call disaster chic and the other in a very monochromatic but well put together fit. 

You smirked. “You know this is a new one for me.” 

The messy haired one tilted his head. “Oh and how's that?” 

“Well you aren’t a middle aged straight couple who’s only way to save their marriage is to have a threesome,” You quipped. 

That got a laugh from the shorter man. “We’re about as opposite as that.” 

You raked your eyes over both of them smiling. “You can definitely say that.” 

“Oh where are my manners? Let me introduce ourselves. I’m Dieter and this is my tall, dark and very handsome husband Din.” 

Din held his hand to you and you graciously took it. The size difference from his hands against yours sent heat fluttering to your stomach. “It’s a pleasure to me you,” Din said, taking interest in your reaction. 

“Uh yes um ditto,” You stuttered, still taken aback. “Too bad I’m not dressed up.” You mumbled to yourself. 

Dieter chuckled. “It seems our friend here sees something she likes.” 

“Hmmm? Oh um yes” You blushed quickly taking your hand back. 

“So how about it? Want to see where else there's a size difference?” Dieter asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the pair, but you shrugged your shoulders. “I actually would love that.” 

Dieter’s eyes widened and he clapped his eyes excitedly. “Perfect.” He dramatically pointed to the exit. “Let us make haste and love!” He hurried towards the exit. 

You couldn’t help, but giggle at the man’s antics. You hopped off the stool throwing a few ones onto the counter. “Is he always like this?” You asked Din who offered his arm to you which you gladly accepted. 

“Always.” Din replied, and you followed the chaotic Dieter out the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dieter talked the whole way home to their apartment. It wasn’t so bad. You sat in the back with him as Din drove, and Dieter basically went over all of the kinks he had and what they both were comfortable with. It wasn’t what you were expecting considering your past experiences, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You laid out what you did and didn’t like to do which Dieter was very receptive too. After your check in, it wasn’t long until you were making out with Dieter, his hands roaming all of you and trying to pull you into his lap. You giggle as you carefully straddled his waist, bracing yourself on the door frame. 

A low purr emanated from Dieter as he nuzzled his face into your clothed breasts. You couldn’t help but giggled as he motorboated against the fabric. With your free hand, you tangled your fingers into his curly hair, giving his scalp a gentle scratch. Dieter squeezed your hips making you squeak from the surprise. He smirked and snaked his hands up your stomach, sighing at your soft skin. You watched as he pushed up your shirt, licking his lips at the sight of your bare tits staring him right in his face. 

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “I see you weren’t interested in the support tonight.” 

You chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Nah, the girls needed to be free tonight.” 

With both of his hands, Dieter gently grasped your breasts in his hands rolling his thumb gently over your peaking nipples. You gasped, pushing your chest forward needing more stimulation from his fingers. Dipping his head, Dieter lapped at your nipples, the chill from his drink still evident on his tongue. You shivered as he lapped at your peaks, loving the contrasting warm and cold feelings. Dieter chuckled, pausing his motions and nuzzling his cheek into your chest. Playfully he bounced your tits saying, “Well I can be their support.” 

You giggled at his playfulness. “Unfortunately I can’t have you holding them 24/7.” 

Dieter pouted. “But I wanna.” 

You smooth his curls away from his forehead. “I’ll see what I can figure out.” 

That returned Dieter’s smile. With one hand still on your breasts, he sneaked his other down your stomach once more sliding them into your pants. You gasped softly as his fingers toyed with the lacey straps. Dieter smirked. “And you said you weren’t dressed up.” 

You blushed. “I wouldn’t consider underwear as dressing up.” 

“On the contrary, sweetheart. I am always an advocate of showing off the fanciest of underwear.” He purred his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit. Slow delicate circles send a pulses of pleasure through your body. Soft pants escaped your lips and you pressed your head into his shoulder. 

Dieter chuckled as he continued his motions, dragging his fingers all around your sensitive bits. His dark eyes caught Din’s in the rearview mirror and he smirked. “My love I believe your eyes stay on the road.” 

All Din gave as a response was a grunt, but Dieter could tell how worked up Din was. Dieter chuckled to himself as they pulled into their long driveway, the car gliding over the smooth concrete. Din turned the car off, quickly unbuttoning his seatbelt and opening the driver side door. It only took a second for him to open the backseat and carefully pull you off of Dieters lap holding you in his arms. 

You bit your lip as Din nuzzled his nose into your neck, his noticeable erection pressing into your stomach. “Oh and what was that about not paying attention?” Dieter teased, closing the car doors behind you. Din growled into your lips and Dieter rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the door” 

Din followed Dieter up the driveway, the footsteps of Dieter’s crocs guiding him into the house. You weren’t paying attention. All of your focus was the taste of whiskey against Din’s soft lips. Quick pants escaped your lips as the warm air of the house hit your skin. Din bit your lips sliding his tongue into your mouth. Gasping your fingers tangled in his hair giving them a firm tug. Din moaned, his cock twitching inside his pants. You chuckled and nuzzled your nose into his stubbled cheek. 

“Oh that’s such a nice sound.” Din blushed, dropping his gaze. You kissed his cheek leaning in close before saying, “I like hearing you moan.” That heard another twitch in his pants as he carried you into the bedroom. 

With your attention focused on other things, you could finally take in the space where Din had carried you. A giant bed lay against the wall with the soft silken covers adorning the top. Memorabilia from Dieter’s collection lined the wall while Din’s areas stayed relatively minimalist. You wondered how such an odd couple ended up together. 

But quickly your mind returned to the task at hand. As gently as handling an animal, Din set you in the middle of the bed. It only took a moment for him to crawl over you, encompassing you with his wide body. You bit your lips as your hands slid up his button shirt, feeling his muscles tensing under your touch. 

“Mmmmm what a lovely sight you two are,” Dieter commented as he sauntered to the edge of the bed. He made himself at home by the pillows as he watched the show. 

You blushed under the attention of the actor, but continued your focus on Din. Your fingers danced over the buttons, slowly opening them to reveal the skin underneath. The sight was utterly delicious and all you wanted to do was lick the saltiness as you made your way down. 

With a slow pull of your hands, you touched every inch of Din’s torso earning gasps from the older man. By the time you reached the tops of his jeans, he was panting, his full erection pressing against the material. Slowly you caressed his cock, feeling the magnitude against your hand. “Shit you are big.” You said, licking your lips. 

Just like his shirt, you undo the button, shifting the material down freeing his cock. It stood at attention with beads of precum already pooling on the head. With a finger, you traced the prominent vein up the shaft to the head where you gathered the precum against your finger. Curiously you brought it up to your lips, not breaking eye contact with Din as the saltiness coated itself over your tongue.

 You moaned at the taste and you could hear Dieter chuckling beside you. “He tastes better than any cocktail.” 

Humming in agreement you shifted yourself bringing your head closer to Din’s. But as you go to take his cock into his mouth, Din stops you with a gentle push on your shoulder. You look up, worried you did something wrong. 

“I want to treat you since you were so kind to agree to this,” Din voiced, a soft pink blush on his cheeks. 

You couldn’t help but blush in return. With these sorts of nights, you were lucky if the man ever went near your vagina with anything other than his cock. Din was such a considerate person that it was a shame this was only for one night. You nodded, returning back to your original position. With dexterous fingers Din pulled your pants along with the underwear off in one fluid motion. You shivered as the cool air hit your legs. Din stared at you with his dark brown eyes as he trailed slow kisses from your calf to your thighs until you could feel his breath against your wet lips. 

“I’m gonna devour you, little flower,” Din purred. 

Dieter rolled his eyes. “We all love your chivalrousness babe, but someone is also getting lonely. And I mean, she did want to blow someone.” Dieter commented and you couldn’t help but smirk. 

With a playful roll of your head, you opened your mouth ready for Dieter’s cock. Dieter smiled pulling down the waist of his well loved yet fashionable sweatpants, his own erection popping out. You lifted your hand giving Dieter a few pumps before kissing the head. His own salty taste mixed with Din’s was like a cocktail of lust in your mouth. 

That was when Din took the opportunity to take a long lick up your lips ending on a flick of his tongue on your clit. You gasped from the sudden pleasure, making you open your mouth. Dieter took the chance and slid the full length of his cock into your mouth. You gagged a little though taking no time to adjust to his size. 

Dieter leaned back his head against the headboard. “S-Shit we should have found you faster.” He slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue swirling around and up the shaft. “D-Din we gotta keep her.” 

Din hummed in agreement as he lapped at your clit. Sparks of pleasure tingled in your stomach, making you moan against Dieter’s cock. The full balls slapped against your throat as Dieter’s thrusts started becoming faster. Dieter cursed with each movement enjoying himself immensely. His gaze wandered down to watch Din as he continued to pleasure you like you were his last meal.

“Shit babe, leave some of that for me. She’s gonna need it when I cum inside her.” You moaned at the thought of his cock spilling his seed inside you. Dieter smirked his gaze meeting your eyes. “Is that something you want, doll?” He asked, his thumb tracing your cheek. You nodded the best you could, and Dieter slowly pulled out of your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting you two. 

“You heard the cutie. I think it’s time for the ol’ Johnson to shine,” Dieter exclaimed excitedly as Din shifted away from you. It was your time to roll your eyes at the other man’s antics. Dieter maneuvered around getting on his hands and knees in front of you. 

“You’re ridiculous,” You teased hands cupping Dieter’s cheeks and quickling kissing his lips. 

“Uh ya ridiculously horny,” He replied with a cheeky smirk. 

You threw your head back against the pillows, a loud laugh filling the room. “God you’re funny.” 

Dieter glanced over his shoulder at Din who had kneeled behind him. “See, someone thinks I’m funny.” 

“Just give it a few years,” Din teased back as he gently pulled a very fancy buttplug out of his husband. Dieter moaned at the lack of friction and you preoccupied him with your lips. He pushed for dominance against you, but you pushed back with just the same intensity. 

Din set the butt plug aside and squirted a dollop of lube onto his palm. Carefully he applied the generous amount onto his cock and Dieter’s hole. A soft gasp escaped Dieter’s lips as he shuttered against the chilly material. 

With a quick peck of the cheek, you said “Don’t worry. You’ll be warmed up in no time.” Dieter groaned at your words, his own cock twitching at the idea of being deep inside you. With a slow push, Din entered him a deep grumble vibrating his throat as he felt Dieter pulse around him. Dieter moaned, resting his head on your shoulder as he adjusted to his size. 

Gently you twirled his curls around your fingers, your nails massaging his scalp. It only took him a moment for him to be ready. Dieter gently pumped his own cock adjusting his hips to meet yours. He guided his cock up and down your slit, your arousal coating the head. You both moaned at the feeling. 

But Dieter grew impatient. With his hand he guided his cock to your hole, gathering up the wetness glistening between your legs. With an eager but still gentle push, he buried himself fully inside of you. The noise that escaped his lips was down right sinful as his legs shook from so much pleasure. Small pants flowed from your lips as you felt Dieter filling you to the brim with his cock. It twitched inside of you and you squeezed around it in response. 

“Fuck,” He whimpered nuzzling his nose into your neck, his warm breath ebbing against your skin.

Din took this as a sign to begin thrusting. It was slow at first, gauging how you were handling everything. In and out Dieter’s cock rubbed against the sensitive areas inside you, and you moaned. Fingers pulled at Dieter’s curls earning a new set of moans to the symphony of sex. 

Din grunted as he pulled his cock almost out of Dieter before plunging it back inside of him, sending Dieter deeper inside of you. The trio moaned as everyone was feeling on cloud nine. Din sped of up thrusts, the need for gentleness over. He draped his torso over Dieter’s back, leaning in to bite on the actor’s shoulder. 

Dieter twitched inside of you, and you smirked. “S-Shit I should bite you more,” 

Dieter moaned as Din’s thrusts became more erratic. It was clear that Din was close to cuming and by the way Dieter felt inside of you, he was close too. Your hand slid down your torso and your fingers began circling your clit, speeding up your motions as you felt the heat in your stomach began to grow and grow. 

With each circle you squeezed around Dieter, earning a moan each time. Your fingers pressed on a particularly sensitive bit and you moaned, sending your legs shaking. Dieter couldn’t hold on much longer. With a few more thrusts from Din, Dieter leaned his head back and came hard inside you. You could feel each bit of cum drenching your walls. 

You played with your clit as fast as you could, using your entire hand to gain the pleasure you need. Soon you joined Dieter in the realm of orgasm and came with the tensing of your legs. As you came down from your high, a series of grunts filled the room as Din filled Dieter with his own high. 

All three of you were left panting against the bed. Din was the first to pull out, and with a tilt of your head you could see the cum cascading down Dieter’s leg. Din gave Dieter’s ass a few taps before slowly getting off the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. 

Almost reluctantly Dieter pulled out of you, his gaze drifting down to see his own seed dripping from you. “Fuck that’s such a pretty sight, doll.” Dieter moaned as he leaned down. You followed his gaze with curiosity. Dieter glanced up. “What? Think I would miss an opportunity to taste the both of us? Not a chance.” With a quick swipe of his tongue, he gathered you and his own arousal on his tongue savoring the saltiness. You gasped at the overstimulation and latched onto his curls for grounding. This only spurred him on, and soon he was devouring like he hadn’t eaten in days. Another orgasm ripped through you, surprising you with how quickly he made you cum. That made Dieter’s ego skyrocket, and he chuckled as he detached himself from you. 

“S-Shit…how?” You asked, panting, mind fuzzy from the pleasure. 

“I can’t give away all of my secrets,” Dieter winked before he settled beside you. His arms pulled you in for cuddles which you gladly appreciated. The warmth from his chest filled you with ease as you wound down from the activities. 

Din reappeared with the washcloth, and with effortless gentleness he cleaned the both of you. He tossed the material aside, dealing with it at a later time, before settling on the other side of you. You practically purred at the feeling of the two men sandwhiching you. 

Everything was quiet as you laid there. Din gently drew imaginary shapes on your skin, and Dieter twirled your hair in his fingers. “C-Can we do this again?” You asked hesitantly not wanting to break the magic of tonight. 

Dieter chuckled against your hair. “I was hoping you would ask that.” You smiled in return happy that your crappy night had turned into something you had a feeling would last a long time.

Credit: @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

[gold-onthe-inside]

make the yuletide gay

who? spencer reid (s3) x postgrad!reader

summary: the year's been hard, and the holidays hurt, and spencer realises maybe this christmas, comfort precedes joy. based on a request by @matthew-gray-gubler-lover: I would love one were i am down and it doesn't feel like Christmas to me (because it doesn't this year) and Spencer cheers me up, thank you.

word count: 939 (so close to 1k)

content warnings: unhealthy family dynamics, reader is trying to emotionally cut-off from her family, just all around angst and a lot of spencer cuddles

You had come back early from winter break, a day or two after Thanksgiving, using your key to get into Spencer's apartment while he was still on a case, somewhere in New Jersey. You hadn't just broken in, obviously, texting him that you were coming back early. As neutral your message had seemed to you, Spencer was much too good at his job not to know something was wrong. He'd called you from the hotel after and asked, to which you had said you'd tell him when he came home - all the while trying not to cry from the earnest care in his tone. But this wasn't how you wanted to tell him, a state between the two of you, over the phone, when he had a serial killer to catch.

It's not the first time your politics had tainted your holidays, the distance between you and your family helping temper your relationship with them. You'd made a plan and everything to keep your sanity for winter break, had mantras in your pocket to use to regulate yourself, breathing exercises, but while your degree is in psychology, theirs seems to be in pissing you off.

Spencer had done his best to make you feel better, had told you how this was normal, had let you talk about it over and over again without losing his patience, had distracted you when you didn't want to think about it, and soon enough, November was in the past. December was fast approaching and the Halloween decorations came down. Orange, purple and black were replaced with green, red  and white. Your phone buzzed with messages from parents, cousins, siblings, asking if you were coming back home for Christmas and you'd let them go unreplied, trying to hold onto joy.

Christmas wasn't as important to Spencer as Halloween, but he knew how much you loved the holiday. He'd spent hours with Penelope on Pinterest to find you the perfect gift, and even though he couldn't get a real fir tree into his apartment (at least not without being kicked out by his landlord), he'd bought a pretty good plastic one you could put up and decorate. You were being a total sport about it, even though your heart wasn't in it, because he was trying and if that wasn’t a sign that he loved you then what was?

The two of you spent Christmas Eve decorating the small tree that you really did love, wrapping tinsel and lights and hanging baubles on the branches and cooked together and there was more love here in Spencer's apartment than you'd ever felt at home, even though you ached for it still.

Christmas Day was so much harder - you'd accepted a video call with your family, watching from a screen as they unwrapped presents, your younger cousins ripping apart wrapping paper to reveal Lego sets and firetruck and dolls and you were so close to crying right there and then. "We miss you," they cried in unison and you'd sent them a flying kiss before closing the laptop, curling into your pillow with blankets that smelled like your boyfriend.

He'd given you the apartment that morning, letting you attend the call alone, because that's what you had wanted, opting to buy groceries instead, and he'd had the brilliant idea to bake cookies on Christmas Day, splurging on Christmas themed cookie cutters, almost noon when he unlocked the door, bursting at the seams with hope. It was too quiet though, the presents untouched under the tree.

He set the bags down in the kitchen, leaving his keys beside them, and checked the bedroom, finding you curled up in the foetal position, tear tracks on your cheek, having fallen asleep with your laptop beside you. He doesn’t know whether or not to wake you up, trying his best to anticipate your needs. What he wants to do is call up your parents and give them an earful for doing this to you, for not seeing the amazing, wonderful, kind person you are. Instead, he sat beside you, tucking the blankets around you, letting you sleep for an hour before waking you up with warm cocoa.

His question goes unasked, but it's the elephant in the room as you sipped the cocoa, feeling a little less hollow and numb as warm chocolate soothed your upset. "Am I making a huge mistake?" you asked instead, looking at him and he shook his head.

"You're making the best decisions you can," Spencer said and when you leaned into him, he wrapped his arm around you, lips automatically finding your temple. "You are so loved," he assured you, "and by nobody more than me."

"What if I lose them forever?" you asked his shoulder, fear creeping into your tone.

"They should be more worried about losing you," he said, a little bitterly, but it was honest, and he rubbed your arm.

You crushed your face into his chest, wanting to cry again but you had no more tears left. "I just want this year to be over," you mumbled as Spencer rubbed your back, hugging you tighter.

Spencer leaned down and kissed the top of your head, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. The thought of you in so much pain broke his heart more than anything else ever had. He had never felt so angry towards anybody as he did towards your family for making you feel this way.  "It will be," he murmured, holding you against him. "And next year is going to be better. I promise." He just kept holding you. The cookies and presents could wait.

[sludgewolf]

I saw that you were searching for Hazard asks so I thought I’d pitch in! 😁😊 (I luv that Scottish big boi)

How about some headcanons or a scenario about Hazard with a shy, petite (5'0-5'2) s/o who blushes easily?? (subtle touches, getting picked up/manhandled, quick kisses, etc.)

Thanks for the pitch, this was way too cute to write for that big softie! ;-; Also sry Scotts, I may've butchered your language. English isn't my first language and Hazard is my only reference for scottish slang, any feedback is more than welcome

Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Masterlist

Ye Daft Wee Bastard - Hazard x Shy!Reader

You're just about the cutest person Haz has ever laid eyes upon, you're so tiny and shy compared to him, Findlay can't help but want to protect this little blushing fairy that came into his life

He def has a field day with you, teasing you relentlessly just to see you blush bright red and try to hide away on his side

constantly jokes that he'll implant a tracker in you so you won't get lost among the dust bunnies

loves dropping his jacket over your shoulders to see you disappear in it, he says he'll be taking you to his next mission in his pocket

thankfully he doesn't take it too far to the point it makes you actually uncomfortable, his bands did raise him right after all

Haz is head over heels for you and doesn't ever bother hiding it, will do anything you ask of him in a heartbeat

well, anything but to stop annoying you, that's his god given right as your partner

besides that he has the patience of a saint when it comes to you, knowing you're shy it took so long of you both dancing around each other before finally coming clean with each other

even if it has been clear since forever, he wanted to wait till you were comfortable with finally outright admitting it all

The main thing he can think during missions is if you're safe, it doesn't matter what's the goal, he has to be by your side the whole time to make sure you're safe

straight up jumping in the line of fire for you kind of overprotective, completely forgetting the crystal walls he can now create

So, so many nicknames like Fun Size, Sugar Plum Fairy, Cherry, Wee Yin, Numpty and

Due to you being, well, you Findley suffers badly from cuteness aggression, needing to softly bite your cheeks and tiny fingers before covering your face with kisses as he hold you close to show you how much he truly loves you

will sometimes point off to somewhere to your side so when you look he'll kiss your cheek, to then laugh at how hard it made you blush

Takes you on rooftop hopping dates, where he'll hoist you up on his shoulder and jump from building to building while badly singing "A whole new world" for you as you laugh

You're hanging together in a concert of one of your favorite bands he surprised you with tickets it doesn't take long in the night for crowd starts to get a bit too rowdy, Haz in fear of you getting hurt uses his body to shield you from the others as you manage to pull him off to a quieter area " Ye oke lass? Was afraid aff ye gettin wallap in there " he breathes a sigh of relief as he checks up with you you can only nod 'yes' before realizing you still have his hand in yours, as if feeling your sudden alarm over it Hazard tries to retreat his hand gathering all your courage you pull it back, laying your hand flat against his massive one your cheeks burn as you meet his questioning gaze "your hands are so warm ..." you gulp, interlocking your fingers together "I- uh I'd like for us to stay like this" now it was his turn to blush cherry red, he turns away from you trying to hide it as a smile creeps on his face " Aye, ah would like that tae" he breathy laughs meeting your eyes again " Ye Daft Wee Bastard"

If you liked this pls reblog and comment so I know to write more like it reblogs >>> likes

[chicgeekgirl89]

A/N: @lemonlyman-dotcom. My darling. I HAVE CONNED YOU!! This is like in the Hallmark movies when you find out he/she was really a prince(ss)/secret millionaire/the owner of the evil corporation all along. YOUR SECRET SANTA IS MEEEEEEEEE!!! The Christmas tree fic is a FAKE!! I pretended to moan and groan about how I couldn't get this fic written BUT REALLY I WAS DELIGHTEDLY CRAFTING IT FOR YOU THE WHOLE TIME!!! Oh the evil joy it brought me every time I posted a little snippet of complete malarky and you reblogged it MWAHAHAHA!! 😈 How did I do? Were you fooled by my outstanding acting? Hehe, I hope you were and that this is a complete surprise! I took your @tarlos-santa prompt idea about Owen and Carlos teaming up to get T.K. the perfect gift and ran with it. It's full of holiday shenanigans and little easter eggs for you, good luck finding them all! (Also I hope you like this badly photoshopped header, I am delighted by the low quality badness of it lol!)

Read on AO3

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Carlos freezes, his lips pressed against the soft skin that lies just below T.K.’s bellybutton. His left index finger is hooked into the elastic waistband of T.K.’s boxers and  he’s already pulled them down low enough to see the sharp jut of his husband’s hipbone. He lifts his head, slightly alarmed. “Am I sure I want to give my husband a pre-work blowjob? Well I was, but now I’m not.”

“No, not that. Please keep doing that,” T.K. says, shifting a little bit, his hands going up behind his head. “I meant are you sure you want to go Christmas shopping with my dad today?”

“Oh, that.” Carlos presses another kiss into him. “Why wouldn’t I want to go?”

“Because my dad is…a lot,” T.K. says, then sucks in a breath when Carlos scrapes his teeth over that sexy hipbone. “And he’s terrible at Christmas shopping.”

“I know,” Carlos mumbles against T.K.’s skin. “That’s why I’m going.”

A week ago Owen had given him a call and invited him out for lunch and Christmas shopping. Surprised, but also pleased, he’d readily agreed and they’d made plans to meet at a restaurant in The Domain and hit up some of the stores afterward. Owen had texted Carlos last night to remind him to wear comfortable, practical footwear and bring reusable bags. 

“Maybe,” he says, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crux of T.K.’s thigh so that he squirms, “if I go, you’ll actually get something you like this year.”

“You really think that you can convince my dad to buy something normal for Christmas?” T.K. scoffs. “Good luck.”

Carlos looks up at him again. “You underestimate the cow eyes?”

“You’re going to use the cow eyes on my dad?”

“If I have to.”

“You’re going to use the cow eyes on my dad to stop him from buying me a fifteen pound block of imported cheese from Italy because the salesman tells him it’s a good deal? Or a decorative, three foot tall, hand carved horse statue that he thinks matches the aesthetics of the loft? Or—“

“I will take care of it,” Carlos assures him.

“What if he—“

“T.K.!”

“What?”

“How about we stop talking about your dad while I’m trying to blow you?”

He tugs T.K.’s boxers down, freeing his morning wood and T.K. lets out a hiss as the cool air of the loft touches his skin along with Carlos’ fingers. “Okay, yeah,” he says, his voice tight with the beginnings of pleasure. “We can do that.”

Two hours later Carlos is showered and dressed and pulling into the parking lot on the north side of the Domain. He checks the mall map and heads toward Flower Child, a restaurant with great vegan options and fresh ingredients.

Owen is sitting at a table outside, a Yankees hat on his head, and he stands when Carlos gets close, excitement on his face. “Carlos, good to see you,” he says, pulling him in for a brief hug.

“Thank you for the invitation.” 

Owen looks at him sympathetically as they sit. “I know this year is going to be hard,” he says. “And I know Christmas shopping with me isn’t the same as doing it with your dad, but I want to help where I can.”

Carlos bites back a snort of laughter. He and his dad never once Christmas shopped together. His dad hated shopping. It’s very sweet that Owen—who loves shopping and would consider an afternoon at the mall with his son a highlight of his week—thinks Gabriel and Carlos would have enjoyed doing the same, but honestly the idea of trying to drag his dad around for hours buying presents is hilarious.

“That’s very thoughtful Owen, thank you,” Carlos says, hoping with all his might that his dad is watching down from somewhere and laughing too.

“I took the liberty of ordering us both their seasonal rose petal lemonade,” Owen says. “Have you had the Glow Bowl here? The shiitake combined with the sunflower sauce is di-vine.”

“That sounds good,” Carlos says, flipping the menu over to take a look.

“The last time I brought T.K. here he had the roasted beet and organic apple salad.”

“I think I remember that,” Carlos says with a smile. His father-in-law has a penchant for taking menu items very seriously, a fun quirk that has carried over to T.K. His husband gets very excited anytime they try a new restaurant. Although he usually ends up liking Carlos’ meal better than his own, stealing bites until Carlos offers to switch. 

He ends up ordering the Glow Bowl and Owen decides to go wild and try the Brussels sprouts and organic kale salad after some banter with their server. “So,” Owen says, taking a sip of his lemonade. “How’s the new job?”

“Not so new anymore,” Carlos says. It’s been almost eight months at this point, but he and Owen really haven’t spent any significant time together since he started with the Rangers outside of professional reasons. He’s barely had time for his husband let alone anyone else. “I feel like I’m starting to find my place though. It’s different from beat work.”

“I’d imagine so. The hat and the belts alone are quite the change,” Owen comments.

Carlos chuckles. “Yeah it’s definitely a look.”

“Well, it’s one you wear quite well. How’s your mom?”

His smile dims. “She’s okay. The holidays are hard. She and my dad had a lot of traditions. But my tías and my sisters have been around a lot, so that helps.”

“And she has a son who is carrying on his father’s legacy,” Owen says. “I’m sure that helps too.”

Carlos shrugs, letting his fingers hug the glass in front of him, the condensation making them slick. “I guess.”

“You are humble to a fault Carlos,” Owen says. “I’m sure both of your parents are proud of you. I know I am. The way you’ve handled things this last year is impressive.”

“It doesn’t feel impressive.” Vulnerability slips into his tone. It’s not something he allows often, but his father-in-law pulled him back from the edge of making one of the biggest, most irreparable mistakes of his life. He’s already seen Carlos at his worst; admitting that he’s been struggling won’t do any damage. “It feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water most days,” he admits.

“The first year of marriage is always challenging,” Owen tells him factually. “I would know, I’ve done it several times. You and T.K. have faced some unique circumstances that have made it even more difficult. But you’re still together, working on yourselves, your relationship, your careers. That is impressive. Don’t forget to let yourself celebrate it.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes as his cheeks flush. “That means a lot.”

“Good.” Owen taps the table, his face serious. “Now, let’s talk about T.K.’s birthday. I have some ideas.”

They eat and talk with companionable ease. Carlos steers Owen away from the idea of hiring a mariachi band and circus performers for the party, but does concede to hiring a DJ. They also decide to have it catered by Carlos and T.K.’s favorite taco truck; the one that makes homemade churros that are to die for.

When they finish eating they throw away their garbage and Owen looks at him with renewed vigor. “So,” he says, “where should we start?”

“Well I have a few ideas—” 

“So do I! Come on, let me show you!”

Carlos follows his father-in-law down the line of stores. Even though it’s seventy-five degrees outside the place feels festive. There are windows decked out with wreaths and snowmen and Christmas trees, and Mariah Carey is blasting over the speakers. Families walk by, some smiling, others arguing. There are little kids dressed in their holiday best, ready for family photos, and a few melting down over toys that Santa won’t be bringing for several more weeks.

They walk into a store selling fitness equipment and Owen gestures grandly to a large black tub. “An ice bath!”

Carlos tries to school his face into something neutral. “An ice bath?”

“They are all the rage in the health and fitness industry right now. They boost your metabolism, provide stress relief, reduce inflammation, and improve your mood.”

“Mhm,” Carlos says, fully aware of the ice bath craze, but seeing for the first time just how difficult it might be to sway his father-in-law away from some of his more zany gift ideas.

Owen’s face falls in a way that is so reminiscent of T.K.’s disappointed face that Carlos feels a pang of guilt. “You don’t like it.”

“No, I—it’s a great idea,” Carlos says. “I’m just…I’m not sure where we’d put it in the loft.” He tries to emphasize how small and unsuited the loft is to this kind of gift without saying it aloud.

“Ah!” Owen says. “That’s the thing! This one is completely collapsible. Store it in the closet until you want it and then inflate it with one of these pumps in less than twenty minutes.” He grabs one off the shelf and holds it up to show Carlos. “It’s a cinch!”

“It…yeah. Seems…easy,” Carlos says, wondering how the hell he’s going to steer this ship to something more appropriate for T.K.

“And,” Owen says, “it’s really two for the price of one. Because you both can use it. Not at the same time obviously, it’s a very small tub.”

“Right,” Carlos says.

Owen eyes him critically. “Hm…you don’t seem to love the idea.”

“Oh no, I mean, if you think T.K.—“

“No, no, I can see it in your eyes. This isn’t the one. Not to worry, I have other options.”

He marches down a few aisles, but before they can find whatever it is he’s got his mind on, a smiling employee blocks their path. “Hello gentlemen. Finding everything you need?” she asks.

“Ah, not quite yet,” Owen tells her. “We are shopping for my son. This is his husband, Carlos.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says and something in her eyes hooks onto them. “You know, I’m not sure what exactly you’re in the market for, but we are having a sale on our elite face shape massagers.”

“Face shape massager?” Carlos asks in confusion.

She whips out a white box with a circular shaped device on the inside. “Yes! This little piece of technology can help reduce the appearance of double chins and improve skin quality! Would you like to give it a try?”

“Um, no, that’s okay,” Carlos says. “You know I really think we need to be moving on, right Owen?”

“No, no!” Owen says. “Give it a try. It can’t hurt. We Strand men have strong jawlines and I’m sure T.K. would like to keep his intact as the years go by. Let’s see how it works.”

Before Carlos can protest further the woman is looping the device over his head, his jaw clamping shut at the pressure. She pushes a button and red light illuminates his skin while the entire thing begins to vibrate. “Can you feel how the photons lift and firm the skin?” she asks.

“Mhmm,” Carlos says, the sound vibrating along with the massager.

“That is incredible,” Owen says, taking a step closer so he can get a better look. “It has red and blue infra lights?”

“It does! And it works even better when combined with our Cleopatra LED Light Mask,” she says, showing them a plastic mask that would make even Hannibal Lecter flee in terror. Carlos can only imagine how T.K. would use that to torture him, leaning over him in the middle of the night, his face lit by the red glow of the lights…

Carlos rips the massager off his face and hands it back to the woman. “Thank you so much for your time, but I think we’re going to go a different direction.”

"I don’t know Carlos, these both seem very reasonably priced,” Owen says, checking out the tag.

“You know what, I actually think T.K. already has both of these,” Carlos says in desperation. He mentally casts around for a believable lie. “…Marjan got them for his birthday… last year.”

“Oh, well, in that case—“

“What about for you, sir?” the woman asks Owen, her skills at capturing her prey honed to perfection after years of retail work. “I can see you take excellent care of your skin. Your pores are nearly non-existent.”

Owen beams and fifteen minutes later they walk out the door with two bags of “me-gifts” for him to put under his own Christmas tree. “Are you sure you don’t want some of these under eye de-puffers?” Owen asks, “They come in a two-pack.”

“I’m good,” Carlos says. “Thank you though.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do.”

“Okay,” Owen claps his hands. “So we’ve struck out on T.K. so far, but I have another idea.”

“Great!” Carlos says.

Owen looks at him with great confidence. “A hat.”

“A hat?”

“A hat.”

Forty-five minutes later Carlos loses the hat battle and they leave a Western wear shop with a brown leather cowboy hat for T.K. that he is going to love, but will have no practical use for outside of their bedroom. Owen is thrilled that his son can now match with Carlos, and Carlos is just glad they got the brown one and not the shiny blue one with silver stars.

He offers to take their bags to the car since they’re starting to get in the way and he’s on his way back, trying to figure out how he’s going to convince his father-in-law to go to Dick’s Sporting Goods and buy some batting gloves that are actually on T.K.’s wish list. Owen will probably dislike this idea because it is both practical and reasonably priced.

Carlos is plotting his plan of attack when a hand reaches out and grabs him, jerking him behind a sign with a map of the mall on it. “Whoa, hey!” he says, before realizing it’s Owen who has latched onto his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Look. Over there.”

Carlos follows the line of his finger to a kiosk selling cellphone cases and accessories. “Owen, what am I looking at?”

“That guy.”

“The one that looks like Santa?” The jolly, bearded fellow is talking to the seller at the kiosk, smiling and laughing.

“And the other guy.”

A shifty looking man, younger than the bearded grandfatherly type who is talking to the salesperson, is lurking near the stand too. “Okay…” Carlos says.

“I’ve been following them since you left. I’m pretty sure they just shoplifted from Bath and Body Works. And it looks like they’re about to do it again. We need to stop them.”

“Owen, that’s a pretty serious accusation. Are you sure that’s really what you saw?”

“The jolly one was distracting the workers with his holiday charm and I’m pretty sure the shifty one put several hand sanitizers in his pockets.”

Carlos barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Pretty sure?”

“There was a stand of candles in the way, but I know I’m very sure he was shoving them in by the handfuls.”

“Then let’s go tell a mall security guard.”

“All they’re going to do is call APD. You can arrest them now and prevent more crime from happening before APD can even get here.”

“I can’t arrest them because you think you saw them do something,” Carlos says.

Owen sighs. “Just watch. You’ll see.”

As they watch the shifty guy moves away from the stand and slinks toward another store a little further down. Carlos relaxes his shoulders. “See? Nothing happening here. Let’s check out—“

He’s interrupted by a huge crash as an entire shelf of the cellphone kiosk hits the floor, sending things flying everywhere. Everyone in the area stops and stares as the kiosk worker reels backward and falls to the floor.

Owen and Carlos move simultaneously. “Whoa, easy there,” Owen says as the kiosk worker tries to sit up. “That was a nasty fall. Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” he says, wincing as he pushes himself upright. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It looks like someone removed the pins from this shelf,” Carlos says, examining it. 

“Removed the pins? Why would someone do that?”

“Could have been a prank of some kind,” Carlos says.

“Or it could have been someone trying to create a distraction,” Owen says, giving Carlos a meaningful look.

“A distraction?” The guy looks confused. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos tells him. “Here, we’ll help you clean this up.”

They spend a few minutes picking up cellphone bits and bobs and helping the guy get the shelf back into place. “Is that everything?” Owen asks.

The guy looks around. “Yeah. I think so. Thank you guys for your help, I’m sure you have other things to get back to.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot Owen shakes his head. “Told you. Shoplifters.”

“Owen…”

“I know, you think I’m crazy. But where are that Santa guy and his shifty elf helper now, huh? Did they stick around to help? No. I bet you that shifty guy loosened that shelf on purpose and then he and Santa grabbed things from one of these nearby stores while we were distracted.”

“Or,” Carlos says pragmatically, “the shelf was never installed correctly and fell on its own.” He smiles and nods toward the sporting goods store. “How do we feel about some batting gloves?”

Owen does buy the batting gloves, but Carlos suspects it’s only because he’s preoccupied with his fictional shoplifter case. He keeps looking around, trying to be casual about it, but failing miserably. Strand men are great at a lot of things; subtlety is not one of them.

“You’re still thinking about those guys, huh?” Carlos asks as they walk out of Dick’s Sporting Goods.

“I know in my gut that they’re up to no good, Carlos,” Owen says. “You see a lot of shady people in my line of work.”

“More than in mine?” Carlos asks skeptically.

“Okay, fair point. But are you really telling me you don’t think they looked a little suspicious?”

Carlos mentally reviews what he saw earlier. “They definitely looked like they could be trouble. But we have no proof. Unless we see something else, there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” Owen says. “I think it’s time for further investigation.”

Carlos stops walking, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Further investigation?”

“Come on. We’re making a little detour. I hope you know what you want for Christmas.”

Carlos follows him toward the center of the mall where a giant Christmas display has been set up and fake snow flurries from the sky. There’s a large gingerbread cottage, fake reindeer, a candy-cane lined path, mounds of cotton acting as the only snowfall Texas will see this year, and the centerpiece of it all is a gigantic throne upon which sits a jolly Santa who is holding two screaming toddlers while an elf attempts to get a picture worthy of a Christmas card. 

“Owen, what are we doing here?” Carlos asks. Two men hanging around a kid-friendly area sans children is not a good look.

“I heard that Santa guy talking earlier. He doesn’t just look like Santa, he is one of the mall Santas. The scrawny guy is an elf. And I know where their green room is.” He takes a look around and then ducks under one of the candy cane striped ribbons that line the area to keep pedestrians out. “Follow my lead,” he says and then drops out of sight into a mound of cotton snow.

“Owen!” Carlos hisses, dropping to his own knees instinctually so that both of them are now hidden in the piles of fluff. “Owen what are you doing?”

“Investigating. This way,” Owen whispers over his shoulder, beckoning Carlos forward. 

He really has no choice. Owen is going to do this whether Carlos follows him or not. So Carlos crawls on his hands and knees after his father-in-law, past reindeer legs and lollipop stems, until they reach the base of the gingerbread house. 

Owen points silently toward a cutout window and, like something out of a cheesy, 90’s Christmas film, they both rise up underneath it, trying to listen and peek over the sill without being seen. 

Sure enough the Santa look alike and his scrawny elf partner are both inside. “Ugh. Only like fifteen hand sanitizers and a couple hand lotions,” the scrawny guy says, shoving merchandise into a large blue duffle bag. “Got some decent jewelry from Kendra Scott while everyone was distracted with that cell phone kiosk though.”

“I told you. We have to keep it small. Otherwise people will get suspicious. Besides, we got that laptop last week and all those clothes from Anthropologie. Those are worth a lot on resale.” Santa takes a sip from his coffee cup. “I made almost ten grand off a mall in El Paso last year. Trust me. This’ll be worth it if we can make it a couple more weeks.”

“It had better be. This elf costume itches,” the scrawny guy retorts, reaching for a red and green costume hanging from a hook on the wall.

Owen motions to Carlos and they crawl back out toward the regular part of the mall. “There you have it,” Owens says as they stand. “Proof. Let’s bust in there and arrest them.”

“You aren’t authorized to arrest anyone. And I’m off duty,” Carlos says. “There are lots of bystanders around. This isn’t a violent crime. We need to call it in first.”

“Okay, so call away.”

“I will,” Carlos says. “Keep an eye on them, let me know if they go anywhere.”

“You got it,” Owen says.

Carlos sends a mental apology to his dad. He’d been really annoyed all those times Gabriel had gotten caught up in one of Owen Strand’s schemes. But now he can see that it’s a very slippery slope and once you start sliding you can’t stop.

He places a call, explains the situation and confirms that officers will be arriving shortly. Relieved that this is almost over, he turns back to tell Owen they need to stick around until APD arrives, but Owen has vanished

Frantically Carlos scans the area, his eyes landing in horror on the line of children and parents waiting eagerly to meet Santa. Sometime in the last ten minutes their suspects have taken center stage, Santa on his throne and Scrawny taking photos. Owen is up next in line, the woman behind him eyeing him suspiciously as she holds tightly to the hand of an eager little boy in a sweater with a T-Rex wearing reindeer antlers on its head. 

Before Carlos can even move, Scrawny, now dressed in full red and green elf regalia, calls Owen forward and he marches up toward Santa’s throne. “Oh no,” Carlos whispers under his breath as he jogs over to the line. “Excuse me,” he says, trying to push toward the front.

“Hey! No cutting! Get in the back!” an irate father yells.

Another elf with a headset puts both hands out to stop Carlos from moving further. “Sir! Sir! You have to wait at the end of the line!” 

“This is official Texas Ranger business,” Carlos tells her, his heart pounding as he watches Owen step right up to their suspects.

“Right, sure it is,” she scoffs.”

“Buddy, what do you want?” Santa asks, suspicion in his voice, despite the smile on his face.

“Owen, stop!” Carlos calls desperately, pushing past the headset elf who immediately begins calling for security.

Either Owen doesn’t hear or he doesn’t care, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd. “What I want to know is, why you think it’s acceptable to use the good name of Santa Claus for criminal activity,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santa tells him. “Ho, ho, ho, is this some kind of joke?”

“It most certainly is not a joke,” Owen says. “Santa is supposed to give gifts away, not steal them for himself.”

“Okay, get out of here,” Scrawny the elf says, marching toward him.

“I will not get out of here,” Owen says hotly. “The two of you are robbing the stores of this mall and I won’t stand for it. Not at Christmas.”

“Buddy, you knock it off right now,” Santa says, his twinkly persona dropping away as he gets to his feet.

“You don’t deserve to wear this suit,” Owen tells him, poking a finger at his chest. “We have evidence of what you’ve done. Let’s not make a scene in front of all these families. The respectable thing to do here is to calmly turn yourselves over to the authorities.”

Owen is right. That would be the respectable thing to do. But this is not a respectable Santa. 

Instead, he runs. And Owen goes after him.

“Owen! Wait!” Carlos yells, vaulting a gumdrop fence to try and get closer.

It’s too late. Owen takes a flying leap and tackles Santa into a snowbank, knocking a fake reindeer’s head off in the process as the crowd around the display gasps in shock and Run, Run Rudolph begins to blast over the speakers.

“Stop! Texas Ranger!” Carlos yells, and then ducks as Scrawny grabs a giant candy cane and swings it at his head. 

Carlos catches the candy cane in both hands and grabs on tightly. “Drop it!” he orders. 

Scrawny refuses to let go and they wrestle over it for a minute until Carlos manages to rip it out of his hands, chucking it to the side. “Get on your knees,” he says, but Scrawny is scrappy. He lunges forward and catches Carlos around the middle, sending both of them sprawling onto the floor.

Carlos grunts as he lands flat on his back, the air immediately knocked from his lungs. Scrawny takes advantage of that to deliver a devastating blow to his jaw that sends pain exploding through Carlos’ face. 

On instinct more than skill he manages to hook a leg around Scrawny and roll them both over, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the floor. “Stop moving,” he orders between gritted teeth. “Turn over.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Scrawny yells.

“Yeah well, you can tell the officers all about that when they get here,” Carlos huffs out, shoving the man onto his front and pinning his hands behind his back. 

His assailant subdued, he looks up and find that Owen has Santa in a headlock. “Get off of me!” Santa yells.

“You, are a very bad Santa,” Owen says breathlessly as blood pools in a cut on his lip and a black eye begins blooming around his eye socket.

“He’s hurting Santa!” The yell of a small child catches Carlos’ attention and his face heats as he realizes how many onlookers are gaping at them, cellphones taking video that is likely going to break the internet at some point later today.

“Owen let him go!” Carlos calls as mall security appears in the distance, one of them cruising in on a Segway that has been decorated in red and green tinsel garland.

Owen releases Santa, both of them doubling over in pain as Carlos pulls Scrawny to his feet. The Segway security guard skids to a stop and approaches him warily. “I’m Carlos Reyes, a Major with the Texas Rangers,” Carlos tells him. “These two have been stealing from stores in the mall all day. I have APD on the way.”

“We’ve been getting reports of items missing,” the officer says. “Didn’t ever think it would be Santa and his elf though.”

“Do you have somewhere to hold these two until they get here?” Carlos asks.

“Yes, sir.”

Carlos hands off Scrawny as another two guards grab Santa and plop him down into the back of a golf cart, securing his hands with zip ties.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks Owen. It’s hard to get the words out, his jaw aching more and more with each syllable as it begins to swell.

“He got a couple good shots in,” Owen says, swiping at the blood on his lip. “I’ve had worse though.”

“You should have let me handle it,” Carlos says.

“Sorry Carlos, I know you’re good. But you’re not good enough to take on Santa and his elf,” Owen tells him. 

Someone from mall security gets them ice and then APD finally shows up. Carlos has just finished giving his statement to an officer when EMS arrives. He groans when he sees who it is. “We’re in trouble.”

Owen follows his gaze and winces. “Oh yeah. We are.”

Tommy, Nancy, and T.K. are moving toward them and Carlos can spot the exact moment they get close enough to realize who they’re going to be helping today because all three of them freeze on the spot. T.K.’s eyes go wide and then a mixture of worry and fury crosses his face as he picks up the pace and beats his partner and his boss to their sides.

“What happened?” he demands, kneeling down and putting a hand on Carlos’ thigh.

“There was a situation that needed to be dealt with and we handled it,” Owen says and T.K. shoots him a look of fury. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means Santa was up to no good and we stopped it,” Carlos says, suddenly feeling very tired. 

T.K. opens his mouth, but Tommy and Nancy reach them at that point and they have their own questions. “Well this is a bit of a surprise,” Tommy says, reaching for the ice that Owen is holding on his eye. “What on earth have you two been up to today?”

“Yeah Captain Strand, I thought you had worked through the anger issues,” Nancy says, attaching a pulse oximeter to Carlos’ index finger.

“This wasn’t anger. This was holiday related justice,” Owen says primly.

“More like holiday related shenanigans,” T.K. mutters under his breath, but the concerned eyes he shoots at Carlos and the steady rubbing of his hand up and down Carlos’ thigh for comfort bely that his anger is really just worry.

“Okay, both of you, tell us what hurts,” Tommy commands.

In the end they get taken to the hospital for x-rays. Owen is pronounced fine, no damage done to his eye socket, although he’ll have one hell of a black eye, and Carlos’ jaw isn’t broken, but it is badly bruised. Scrawny really packed a punch. He’s relieved when he’s finally back home in bed, T.K. fussing over the comforter and the ice pack he’s holding to his face.

“Is the ice too cold?” T.K. asks. “Are you hungry? Of course you’re hungry, it’s like eight o’clock. I’m going to make you some soup.”

Carlos has a feeling he won’t be eating solids for several days, and soup does sound good; lunch with Owen feels like weeks ago at this point. But he catches T.K.’s hand and tugs him down onto the bed instead. “In a minute,” Carlos says. “Sit with me for a bit first.”

T.K. perches on the edge a frown on his face as he brushes a hand through Carlos’ curls. “I shouldn’t have let you go with my dad today. I knew something like this would happen.”

“How could you possibly have known something like this would happen?” Carlos asks, cracking an incredulous smile and then wincing when it sends throbs of pain through his face.

“Because that’s how it always is with my dad. If there’s trouble, he’s going to find it. He’s almost gotten us killed twice. He went undercover with a white nationalist group. He bought a horse and kept it at the firehouse for weeks. It’s like he literally can’t help himself.”

“He did the right thing today though,” Carlos says. “Those guys had stolen thousands of dollars worth of stuff from the shops in the mall.”

“I know, but I wish you hadn’t been in the middle of it,” T.K. grumbles, his hand coming up to gently cup Carlos’ bruised jaw. “Did you get any shopping done? Or did you spend the entire time playing detective?”

“Oh we got some shopping done,” Carlos says. “And I tried. I really tried babe. But your dad is…”

“Stubborn? Difficult? Unpredictable?”

Carlos nods. “All of those things.”

“So? What should I look forward to getting for Christmas this year?”

“How do you feel about hats…?”

[thechy-fychannel]

You said you think pre-infarction house was an addict-can you expand on that? What drugs were he hooked on and why did he fully switch to vicodin and never used others again? Did he ever reach a go-to-rehab level addiction? How did wilson handle that? And what was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think she would have been a lot more forgiving than cuddy because 1. She herself is a smoker who goes back to cigarettes during hard time and 2. Unlike cuddy, she didn't have a small child to worry about.

Ahhh thank you sm, I love this question!!! Let's get into it ✨

So my theory is that house was abusing morphine prior to the infarction. here are my reasons for thinking so:

1. Three Stories- the entire reason house's infarction was as bad as it was is bc everyone except house was convinced he was just drug seeking at first. it makes absolutely zero sense for them to think that unless he already had a history of drug seeking. unless I misremember (anyone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) he already worked at PPTH for a while before the infarction happened. so it was the same doctors he knew and interacted with every single day that saw him screaming in agony and chose to believe he was just trying to seek drugs and not actually in pain. he had to have a history, it just doesn't make sense otherwise for them to assume he was drug seeking.

2. one very specific line in No Reason (the episode where house is shot and the whole episode is a hallucination). when house, wilson, and cuddy are in her office and house is realizing they did something to his brain (the ketamine treatment) cuddy says this specific line: "You were out of control, you were shooting morphine!" This line has always stuck out to me and no one ever seems to mention it. It's very out of place bc the conversation they're having is about him being shot and them doing something to him while he was under. I think this was his brain connecting this event to the last time someone did something to him while he was unconscious, trying to rationalize these traumatic events.

3. In early s3 when the pain comes back, he begs cuddy to give him a shot of morphine in his spine (the scene where he drops his pants in her office and asks her in tears if the scar is all in his head too since she thinks the pain is all in his head.) cuddy gives him the shot and he comes back looking for another one later on, after the pain comes back again. she informs him that she never gave him morphine, it was saline. the fact that the pretend morphine worked suggests he had a mental dependency on it. I'm pretty sure this is the point where he goes back to vicodin (it's been a few months since I did my last rewatch so I could be wrong). I think had she actually given him morphine, he likely would've become addicted to it again. Just the thought of the morphine was enough to have him looking for more.

4. Wilson's tendency to jump straight to heroin use when he thinks house is on something other than vicodin. it happens more than once in the series when house starts acting just the slightest bit off, wilson leaps to the conclusion that he's on heroin. which is an insane leap to make unless it's something he's had to worry about in the past. I think the reason wilson would jump to heroin over morphine is if he knows what it looks like when house is high on morphine. If house used to abuse morphine, wilson would be able to recognize it and if he can't, it must be something much worse. this again plays into why I think he was an addict prior to the infarction even if it wasn't morphine, because who in their right mind would jump to their best friend using heroin if that person didn't have a long history of abusing similar drugs?

Now to answer your other questions:

Why did he switch to vicodin and not go back to others he may have been addicted to? I can tell you from personal experience that while morphine feels great, it makes you hazy and tired and out of it. I think once he was prescribed vicodin after his surgery and learned that he could function on it and not feel hazy, it was a match made in heaven for him (he says a few times in the show that vicodin doesn't make him hazy, so he immediately knows if he's on something else bc he feels hazy.) He didn't need to switch to anything else as long as he had access to vicodin bc he got the high, the pain relief, and no haziness. but when he got cut off of his vicodin during the tritter ordeal, he stole oxycodone (I think?) from wilson's dead patient. so if he didn't have vicodin, it's safe to assume he would go back to whatever he had access to.

Did he ever reach rehab level addiction? / What was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think if we go based off his colleagues thinking he was drug seeking + cuddy saying he was out of control and shooting up morphine, I would say yes, it was rehab level addiction. But— I feel like if it had been that bad, stacy would've mentioned it in some sort of capacity during her arc when they were discussing their relationship. she never hints at him being an addict as far as I can remember. she loved and cared about house so much that she was willing to accept him hating her if it meant he was alive and healthy. I feel like if his addiction had been dangerous, she would've done anything to get him help the same way she did during his infarction. even if it meant going against his wishes and him hating her, she would've insisted he got help. so I'm conflicted on that question, honestly. I think maybe it depends on the perspective of those around him. maybe those at the hospital saw something stacy didn't, I'm not sure. but I agree with what you said about her being more forgiving and understanding of it than cuddy was. I think if he had been an addict while they were together, she would've given him an endless amount of chances until it became dangerous, that's when she would put her foot down and try to force him into rehab and their relationship probably would've crumbled for a whole different reason.

How did Wilson handle his addiction? I think house being an addict prior to the infarction plays perfectly into the theme of wilson emotionally neglecting his wives for house. we obviously don't have an exact timeline of his marriages aside from his first one ending just before house and wilson met, but it's pretty safe to assume that he was married to and even possibly divorced from bonnie before the infarction ever happened since he seems to have been married to julie for a little while in the beginning of the show.

[sidenote: here is my personal timeline HC for wilson's marriages.

Sam: 1991-1992 (canon)

Bonnie: 1993-1998

Julie: 1999 (before infarction) - 2005]

In the episode where house uses bonnie to get dating info about wilson, she says the iconic line, "You always needed him and he was always there for you. He had a wife waiting for him at home and you didn't care." And it just makes sense if the reason house always needed him was because of his struggles with addiction. house in general is a needy person who always wanted wilson's affection to himself, that much is clear, but wilson had to of had a good excuse to always run off for whatever it is house needed from him prior to him being disabled.

Getting into more specifics about how wilson would've handled his addiction back then— I think he would've handled it similarly to the way he did with the vicodin. he's an enabler unfortunately, he would've let house make excuses and made excuses for him because he tries to give house the benefit of the doubt that he can control himself. I think back then even more so, because house wasn't in pain and disabled, wilson had no reason to think house couldn't control himself. I think it's even possible that wilson was in denial about it too, he didn't want to believe his best friend was an addict and maybe he felt like he needed to protect house when others started accusing him of such. I think that may be why wilson asked cuddy to make that bet with house to find out if he was addicted to vicodin. he ignored it and denied it last time and he's enabled him for years since the infarction, he wanted to know if he was treating house's pain or still enabling an addict. the answer was both, which makes it no less complicated. but like with all of house's issues, wilson continues to stand by him and be there for him bc he loves him and wants him in his life, addict or no addict.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

hi! i love your work so so much! i have a request for you, i know it takes you a lot of time to get thru your requests but i hope you will see this soon ❤️

would you be able to do one when reader is in an abusive relationship and kylian is her friend and they have been in love since they were kids but couldn’t find a way to work it out somehow so she dates someone else who’s absolutely awful and kylian is worried and protective? happy ending please haha

thank you in advance and i so look forward to what you do with my request i have a feeling it will another masterpiece 😍😍😍

Hi! Hope your having a great day.

I really liked this request, and I got so much inspiration, I started writing immediately. I hope you like it.

Don't forget my Patreon is now available for $3 for the month of December; don't miss your chance to catch up on all the exclusive content before the month ends!

Safe Haven

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he saves you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 4.3k

Warnings! ANGST!! protective!Kylian, you have a shit boyfriend, TRIGGER WARNING!! Abuse, domestic violence, FLUFF! Kylian is your guardian angel,

The café hummed with soft chatter and the rhythmic clink of ceramic mugs, a cozy soundtrack that usually invited comfort.

But Kylian barely noticed.

His attention was on you, sitting across the table, absently stirring your coffee as if lost in thought—or avoiding it altogether.

His sharp gaze caught the faint bruises peeking out from beneath the sleeve of your sweater, their mottled edges just visible under the soft café light. He clenched his jaw, biting back the wave of anger and helplessness that surged within him.

He knew better than to mention them directly—he’d tried before, only for you to shut him down.

“How’s work?” he asked, his voice deceptively light, masking the feelings that were brewing inside him.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Busy, as usual. But good.”

He nodded, even though the lie tasted bitter.

You were thinner than you’d been the last time he saw you, the shadows under your eyes darker. The spark—the vibrant, carefree energy that you used to be—felt like a distant memory.

He couldn’t recall the last time you laughed uncontrollably, the way you used to when you were kids, running barefoot through the fields, teasing him mercilessly about his attempst at a backflip.

That version of you felt like someone from another life, a ghost he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he tried.

Kylian had given you so much space over the last few months, trying not to push you into discussing something you weren’t ready to. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what he could have done differently—if he’d spoken up sooner, if he’d been stronger or braver—would you be with him instead of the man you now called your boyfriend?

You didn’t tell him about it, but he knew.

How could he not?

“Kylian.” His name was a whisper on your lips.

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to meet your gaze. “Yeah?” he answered, voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowing.

Kylian was caught off-guard. “I—yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He felt his heart clench at the look on your face. So worried about him. It should be him worried about you not the other way around.

Kylian swallowed down the lump in his throat, his gaze dropping to your hand, your delicate fingers still wrapped around your coffee cup. He’d always liked your hands—had even sketched them once, during a boring math class when he was younger. Not that they looked the best.

Now, he couldn’t help but notice the way they were shaking, the tremors almost invisible.

“Hey, you don’t have to stay.” He cleared his throat. “If you’re tired—”

“No, I mean, it’s fine. I have a few minutes.” You shrugged.

“I understand. I’m probably taking up too much of your time anyway,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Your brow furrowed. “No, that’s not—”

The door to the café jingled, and Kylian didn’t miss the way your shoulders tensed at the sound. His stomach sank, a cold dread settling over him. He didn’t need to turn around to know what—or rather, who—had caused it.

“Hey, babe. You’re late,” a voice cut through the warm buzz of the café, gruff and sharp.

Kylian’s chest tightened as Adrien approached the table, clenching his fist under the table. You flinched, muttering a quiet, “Sorry, Adrien,” your voice barely audible over the blood pounding in Kylian’s ears.

Adrien’s hand landed on your shoulder, his grip firm, possessive, and entirely too telling. Kylian’s eyes narrowed as he caught the flicker of pain in your expression, the way you recoiled ever so slightly. Adrien turned his gaze to Kylian, his eyes cold, daring him to intervene.

“Time to go,” Adrien said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kylian’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, the sound cutting through the air like a challenge. “She’s not ready yet,” he said evenly, his voice steady, though his fists clenched at his sides.

Adrien straightened, towering over him, but Kylian didn’t waver. The protective instinct roaring to life inside him drowned out the rational voice warning him to tread carefully. He’d spent too many nights wondering if he should’ve done more, said more, instead of tiptoeing around the cracks in your life, afraid of making things worse.

“Kylian, it's fine,” you said hurriedly, standing and grabbing your bag. Your words were meant to soothe, but your tone betrayed you. It wasn’t fine. Not the way your hands trembled as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Not the fear flickering in your eyes as Adrien’s shadow loomed over you.

And certainly not when Kylian remembered the late-night calls, your voice breaking as you insisted everything was okay while your silence screamed the opposite.

He reached out, hand brushing your arm, trying to reassure you. “Are you sure, Y/N—” he started, his voice catching as Adrien interrupted, his hand tightening around your wrist.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get going. Nice to see you, Kylian.” Adrien’s words dripped with sarcasm, his eyes glacial.

You murmured something indistinguishable as Adrien dragged you away, leaving Kylian with nothing but a heavy feeling and a cold cup of coffee. He watched you disappear out the door, the memory of your haunted eyes searing a hole through his chest.

That night, Kylian sat perched on the edge of his bed, his phone resting heavily in his hands. The glow of the screen illuminated his face in the dark, but it was the storm in his heart that truly kept him awake.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Watching you crumble under the weight of someone else’s cruelty was killing him slowly. You deserved better—so much better than what life had handed you. You deserved love, the kind he’d always wanted to give you, but he’d been too much of a coward to fight for it when it mattered most.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, trembling with indecision. Minutes bled into each other as he stared at the screen, lost in a sea of regrets and what-ifs. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if it was already too late?

The sharp, shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the silence of his room, startling him so violently that his phone nearly slipped from his grasp. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to pick up the call.

“Y/N,” he whispered, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. His heart pounded with a rhythm that threatened to drown out every other sound.

“Kylian…” Your voice cracked through the line, so soft, so fragile, that he almost didn’t recognize it. Your tone made his stomach twist with dread.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel, his voice catching as he heard your faint, uneven breathing. It only took a second before he picked up on the muffled sobs in the background. Whatever composure he’d been clinging to shattered in an instant.

“Help me, Kylian,” you whimpered, the sound hitting him like a dagger to the chest. “I can’t—I can’t move.”

His blood ran cold, fear clawing its way through him. “Y/N, what’s happening?” he demanded, panic creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. He shot up from his bed, fumbling to pull on a pair of jeans.

“I’m… I’m in the bathroom,” you managed between sobs, each word cutting through him like shards of glass. “Adrien—he was so angry—he hurt me, Kylian. I—I didn’t know what to do…” Your voice broke entirely, dissolving into gut-wrenching cries.

Kylian froze, his mind struggling to process what you’d just said. He’d never heard you sound so broken, so utterly defeated. It tore at his very soul.

“Okay, listen to me. Don’t move, alright?” he said firmly, pulling on a sweatshirt with trembling hands. “I’m coming to you. Right now.”

“Please, Kylian, don’t let him get to me.” Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I’m so scared…”

He could feel his heart splintering with every word you uttered, but he forced himself to stay strong—for you. Grabbing his keys, he bolted out of his apartment, already dialing 911 with shaking fingers as he sprinted toward the front door of his building.

"I’m coming, Y/N,” he whispered, the vow burning in his chest. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” He spoke the words, but he wasn’t sure if you were even still on the line to hear them. “Y/N? Y/N!!? Answer me!”

No answer.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw the tears drip down his face. He was halfway to your place when the operator picked up, his words tumbling out in a disjointed, panicked mess.

“He’s going to hurt her. Please, you have to help us. I don’t know what he’s going to do. I can’t lose her,” he cried, the last word cracking in his throat.

The operator tried to keep him talking, but Kylian was too far gone to focus on anything but your broken sobs still echoing through his phone. The sound was forever seared into his head, haunting him as he drove.

By the time he arrived at your apartment, he’d convinced himself of the worst. Every nightmare he’d been trying to suppress had come alive in his mind, clawing at his sanity and leaving him raw with terror.

His heart thundered wildly, a beat of dread that pounded louder with every frantic step up the stairs. He barely registered the ache in his legs or the burning in his lungs. All that mattered was getting to you.

When he reached your door, there was no hesitation. The wood splintered under the force of his kick, the loud crack echoing through the apartment. He froze for a split second, his heart lurching in his chest as his eyes found Adrien standing in the kitchen.

Adrien turned at the noise, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile that made Kylian’s blood boil.

A storm of rage surged inside him, hot and blinding, coursing through his veins with a fury he’d never known. Every thought, every ounce of logic, every shred of restraint burned away, leaving nothing but raw, unrelenting anger. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

Kylian didn’t care about the consequences.

He didn’t care about the destruction he was about to cause. There was no room for anything but the white-hot need to make Adrien pay. His fist connected with Adrien’s jaw, the sickening crack reverberating through the room. He barely felt the pain in his knuckles as Adrien staggered backward, already crumpling before Kylian tackled him to the ground.

The two of them slammed into the kitchen table, the force of the collision shattering it beneath their weight. Adrien’s curses filled the air, but Kylian barely heard them. His vision was a blur of red, his world reduced to the satisfying sound of his fists meeting Adrien’s face. Blow after blow, he poured every ounce of his fury into the man beneath him.

It ended as abruptly as it had started. Adrien lay on the floor, curled into himself, his hands clutching his broken jaw as he whimpered in pain. Kylian stood above him, chest heaving, his fists trembling and smeared with blood—his own, Adrien’s, he couldn’t tell.

“Kylian.”

Your voice. Soft, broken, barely audible, but it cut through the fog like a blade. He turned, his breath hitching as his eyes found you.

You were huddled on the bathroom floor, your body limp and trembling, your face streaked with tears. Bruises marred your arms and neck, vivid against your skin, and the sight of them made something inside him shatter. There was blood—so much blood—and the sight of it made his stomach twist painfully.

As he approached, you whispered something, your voice trembling, but the words were lost to him. All he could focus on was the fear in your eyes, the pain etched into your expression. His knees hit the tiled floor as he knelt beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he gently pulled you into his arms.

You flinched at the contact, a broken sob escaping your lips as you collapsed against him. Your body shook violently, every tremor a testament to the horror you’d endured. Kylian held you close, his arms tightening around you protectively, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world.

He didn’t speak; there were no words for this. Instead, he buried his face in your hair, his breath ragged as he fought back the tears burning in his eyes. His hands trembled as they stroked your hair, his touch as gentle as he could make it. Your cries filled the small bathroom, echoing off the walls and breaking his heart anew with every sound.

He held you, rocking you gently, his own breaths hitching as he whispered silent promises into the air. You were safe now. You were in his arms, and he wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—hurt you again.

Not while he lived.

When the police and paramedics finally arrived, Kylian refused to let you go, even as they gently coaxed him to give you over to them. He couldn’t let you be taken from him again. You were his to protect now, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting for your safety.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of noise and color, the sounds of the sirens and the flashing lights mingling to consume him whole. But none of it mattered. Not as long as you were safe in his arms.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Kylian stayed at your side, his fingers laced tightly with yours, feeling as though letting go might mean losing you. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and the silent promise in his eyes—I’m here, I’m not leaving—was unshakable.

Even when the nurses and doctors ushered him away, insisting they needed to examine you in private, he stood frozen for a moment, his hand hovering in the air where yours had been. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each step that took him further from you.

Outside the door, the minutes dragged, each tick of the clock hammering against his already raw nerves.

He paced the narrow corridor, his footsteps echoing in the quiet, sterile hallway. His gaze never strayed from the closed door, the sight of it both a barrier and a lifeline.

Inside, you were there—hurt, vulnerable, but there. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as anger and fear collided within him, swirling a storm in his stomach.

He wanted to be strong for you, but the truth was, he was terrified. All he wanted, all he needed, was to hold you in his arms again, to feel your warmth against him, to reassure himself that you were still here, still breathing.

The moment the door opened, Kylian was on his feet, the chair he had been sitting in scraping loudly against the floor as he sprang up.

His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of you being wheeled out, your small frame seeming even smaller against the stark white sheets of the hospital bed. Your face was limp, twisting a knife in his chest.

For a second, he couldn’t move, frozen by the sheer weight of the fear he’d been holding back. But then, the tears came, hot and unrelenting, slipping down his face as he stepped forward and gently took your hand.

Your skin was cold, far too cold, and the sob he had been swallowing threatened to break free. He tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if the simple gesture might anchor you—and him—to something solid.

He tried, tried so hard, to hold himself together for you, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Silent at first, then heavier, until they dripped onto the blanket covering you.

Without hesitation, Kylian climbed onto the narrow hospital bed beside you. He moved carefully, afraid that any sudden movement might hurt you, but his need to be close to you overrode every other thought.

He slipped an arm around you, cradling your fragile body against his own, and pressed his face into your shoulder. The faint scent of lavender and vanilla, though dulled by the sharp tang of antiseptic, wafted his senses, soothing him instantly.

He laid his head against your chest, his ear pressed to the place where your heartbeat was steady and strong. That sound—it was everything. It was life, it was hope, it was you. His arms tightened around you as though he could shield you from the world.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt his lungs expand fully, his breath coming easier. You were here. You were okay. The crushing weight of fear that had threatened to break him all night began to lift.

He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet, “I won’t fail you again. Never again.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, but there was no wavering in his promise. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would keep you safe.

As your breathing slowed, your chest rising and falling with a soothing rhythm, it lulled him into a peace he hadn’t known in days. The tension in his body eased, and his eyelids grew heavy.

There, with you in his arms, he allowed himself to drift into sleep, deep and restful, knowing that for now, in this moment, everything was right again.

You were safe. And that was all that mattered.

You woke to the sound of beeping, the muted murmur of hospital chatter bleeding through the closed door, and the feeling of warmth against your body.

Your eyelids fluttered open, your gaze focusing slowly on the unfamiliar ceiling above you.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, disoriented by the sterile smell and the harsh overhead light filtering in through the window blinds. Your body ached, every muscle protesting as you shifted slightly, and then you felt it—a warm weight draped across you.

Kylian.

He was curled against you on the narrow bed, his arms wrapped around you as if even in sleep, he couldn’t let go. His head rested on your shoulder, his breath soft and even against your skin.

The sight of him broke something in you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memories of the night before crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Adrien’s fury, the pain, the fear that had gripped you so tightly it was hard to breathe—and then Kylian, bursting through the door like a storm.

He had come for you. He had saved you.

You reached up with trembling fingers, brushing them gently against his cheek where a bruise was slightly formed. The motion made him stir, his brow furrowing before his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he looked confused, his gaze darting around the room until it settled on you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with sleep. Relief flooded his features, and he sat up slightly, his hand instinctively reaching out to cup your face gently. Always gently.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. His eyes searched yours, dark and filled with so much concern it made your chest tighten.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt raw, your words catching. All you could do was nod, tears spilling freely now as the enormity of everything hit you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible from how dry your throat was. “For everything—for dragging you into this, for—”

“Hey, no,” he interrupted firmly, his hand shifting to cradle the back of your head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault, Y/N. You hear me? None of it.”

His words were steady, unwavering, and you believed him because you wanted to. You wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

“I was so scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I thought—I thought I wouldn’t make it. And then you—”

“I’ll always come for you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what, no matter when. I’ll always be there.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and comforting, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his forehead pressed gently against yours. The world outside could wait. For now, in this quiet, sterile hospital room, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours and the safety of his arms.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the space between them. “Thank you for saving me.” You felt his body tense against yours before he gathered you into his arms again.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his words a quiet promise. “You’re safe, Y/N.” His voice rumbled against you, vibrating in his chest beneath your cheek.

For the first time since you could remember, you truly believed that. You were safe. And it felt wonderful.

Weeks passed, and with them, healing.

You spent the first two in the hospital, but by the third, you were well enough to be discharged.

Kylian never left your side. He pushed your wheelchair down the hospital corridor, refusing to let anyone else take his place. It was his right, his privilege, he said. And you let him.

When you were finally cleared to go home, he drove you to his apartment. You didn’t argue; you didn’t need to. It was quiet there, peaceful, with him always nearby.

At first, you were hesitant to take up space in his life, but Kylian left no room for doubt.

He cooked for you, and insisted on carrying you to the couch when you were too weak to walk. He never pushed you to talk, but his presence said everything: I’m here. You’re not alone. It was a comfort, a shelter, that you’d needed for so long.

One evening, as you were lying on his couch, cocooned in a blanket, he sat beside you, a cautious distance away. He took a deep breath, his eyes clouding with something you couldn’t quite name. You could see his thoughts playing out across his features as he struggled to find the right words.

"I'm sorry." The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows across his face, but his eyes remain steady on yours. “I should’ve done something sooner,” he says, his voice thick with guilt. “I saw what was happening, but I was too afraid. Afraid of losing you… even though I never really had you.”

His confession startles you. You sit up slowly, wincing at the lingering pain in your ribs. “Kylian, it’s not your fault,” you whisper. “You didn’t hurt me. He did.”

“But I let it happen,” he counters, his jaw tightening. “I—” He cuts himself off, running a hand over his coils. “I should’ve told you how I felt. Maybe then you would’ve been with me instead of him.”

Your breath catches. How he felt? The room feels suddenly too small, too quiet. “How you felt?” you echo, your voice barely audible.

Kylian hesitates, his vulnerability laid bare. “How I feel,” he corrects, his gaze searching yours. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Watching you with him—it tore me apart. But I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

Tears well in your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming realization of what Kylian has done for you—what he’s always done for you. “You are good enough,” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re more than enough, Kylian. You saved me. You’ve always been there, even when I didn’t know I needed you.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you reach out, your fingers brushing his. His hand is warm, grounding, as he laces his fingers through yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. “But I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I should’ve been brave enough before, but I won’t waste any more time.”

His words are a promise, a vow. It takes your breath away.

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t look away. “I'm not ready to open my heart again. I-I can't.” you admit, your voice trembling but resolute.

Kylian’s expression softens, the tension in his jaw easing as he takes in your words. His thumb gently grazes the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. “I’ll wait,” he says simply, his voice steady. “For as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his words lights up your soul, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing down on you feels a little lighter. You lean back, settling into the cushions again, and Kylian adjusts, staying close without crowding you.

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, comfortable silence.

“Kylian?” you murmur after a while, your eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid to disturb the fragile peace between you.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “For everything.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, his gaze searching yours as if committing this moment to memory. Then, he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Always,” he says, and you know he means it.

For the first time in years, you believe that you will be safe—that you will be more than safe. You will be loved.

-Bianca🌻

[longlivedelusion]

Hii, I saw you were doing requests for Marauders era things... Would you be keen to do a jegulus fic? would love to see them with a neurodivergent reader or something 💞 thank you !!! Ok if not comfortable

Thank you for your patience anon, if you're still around! Inspiration finally struck as I'm currently working through my own processes with my neurodivergent & mental health things. So I felt like what better time than now to write some fic therapy? Hope you enjoy! 🤍

The Art of Trying

Warnings: some angst and miscommunication. Good ending tho. My own personal portrayal of how neurodivergency shows up for me 🤍 but I know it's a spectrum for everyone. I'm no expert, just a human existing and trying.

James knew your routine well. He'd even adjusted some of his own so it could match up with yours well, which luckily didn't take too much effort given you were both early risers. Regulus, however, was the night owl of the three of you. He only woke up well after James and you had finished your morning tasks, and would work around the house quietly at night. But despite this, you'd all found a peaceful compromise in your daily lives so that this relationship could be at its absolute best. Thriving, he would say.

That was until Regulus got a new job that required him to be out by 8am. Which meant, a change in how you all lived and did things.

For James, the change was easy. He thrived with more people around, and waking up at the same time as his other partner felt like heaven. But for you... He knew this was a lot harder on you than you were admitting.

It started off fine, you also enjoyed the extra kisses and cuddles the first day, the second even. But James could tell that as you settled down after the excitement, the reality must have set in because you stopped making eye contact with them on the third day. Avoided their touches on the fourth.

By the end of the week, your voice turned cold.

"Can I please have some room." You mumbled out with a bit of an edge. Your body sliding carefully by Regulus's but not touching him. Reggie was making breakfast, some sort of omelette situation, but that meant there was cutting boards and cheeses and utensils all around and no space.

James was sitting at the breakfast nook with his coffee, reading over the Daily Prophet when he perked up at the tone.

"Of course darling," Regulus said, wand out immediately as he tidied up. "Apologies for that. Would you like an omelette?"

You grabbed your usual bowl, your yogurt, not even looking up to answer. "No thanks." You grabbed your things, saying a quick have a good day before your bedroom and closing the door shut.

Now Regulus had been aware you were having a hard time adjusting, they'd anticipated it even. So he tried his best to accommodate your needs, but at the same time he had his routines as well. And he struggled the same, if not differently from too many changed to his own routine. James could tell the cold and distant attitude was affecting Reggie now as well, despite how patient he tried to be.

"Reggie y'alright?"

"No, James. I am not alright." Reggie sighs. "I feel like as if walking on glass, and by the time I get to work my day feels ruined. She barely looks at me, barely talks. Anything I do I feel as if it's wrong and I cannot- I don't want to shut her out. I don't want to shut down." He takes a shaky deep breath in.

James is up in a moment, wrapping Regulus up in his arms. "I know, I know." He pauses, focusing on easing his partner while he thinks. "Maybe it's time we talk about it again, yeah? I know we discussed the change before, but it's obviously affecting her and you both more than you expected."

Regulus sighs and puts his head on James' chest. "I suppose your right. I miss her, James."

James felt his heart crack, "I know baby, but we can fix it yeah? This is fixable."

James felt Reggie nod on his chest. "Yeah," he mumbled.

He pulled Regulus back by his arms, "Would you rather talk to her now or after work?"

Reggie paused before letting out a breath. "Now, please."

He nodded and took Reggie's hand into his own, making their way to your bedroom as James knocked on the door. "Lovely?"

"Yeah?" He heard you mumble from within.

"Can Reggie and I come in for a moment?"

There was a long pause, an obvious tell on your end that you were aware that there would be a conversation happening. He knew you were preparing for the conversation, and eventually you let out a soft "Sure."

James twisted the door open and found you with your bowl empty and your tea forgotten, instead you sat straight backed against your bed with you fingers twisting in the top sheet.

"What's up?" You said in a neutral, nonchalant tone, but could tell you were nervous. Saw the way you eyed their interlocked hands and James talking the lead.

"We just wanted to check in for a bit. Mind if we sit?" James said, deciding to take the lead.

You nodded and the boys sat across from you as an awkward silence filled the air. Your hands kept twisting at the sheets nervously when you'd stop as you noticed. Then started up again.

"We've noticed you've been shutting down more lately, and we're just wanting to see how you're feeling if that's alright." James started.

Your faced dropped into a mix of guilt and sadness. "I'm... Adjusting."

"We know these things take time, of course." James placates, noticing Reggies own guilt and frustration reflecting back. He squeezed Regulus's hand. "But you haven't really talked to us much since the change in schedules, and it feels a bit like you're shutting us out is all. We're worried."

You chewed on your lip, eyes glancing about as you thought. Not once landing on them.

They gave you some time to respond, "I just- I'm having uh... Hard time with. The difference." You managed out.

James nodded. "How so?"

"The sounds, the space, it's... Just different. And I feel myself getting frustrated and I don't wanna get mad at you guys because it's my brain, not you. You're not doing anything wrong. So I stay as long as I can, but it's just getting harder and I-" you choke out and crash your head on our palms. "I just don't wanna take it out on you, I'm sorry. I don't know how to deal with this yet."

Reggie finally speaks up, his voice calmer as his hand reaches out to touch the fabric in front of you. "Darling, look at me please."

You look up warily as Regulus scoots closer, leaving James' side. "May I?" He asks, his palm up.

You place your hand in his.

"It's not easy, when it feels as if our brains are working against us." Reggie starts. "It's as if we are not cut out for the world and the world was not made for us." His voice softens. "We may not be able to control how our brain interprets or how our body reacts, but we can choose and train ourselves to do the best we can. To try."

Regulus's hand reached up slowly to touch your face, giving you time to pull away if you so chose. "I want to try. I don't want my own rules to stop me from loving you the way that I want. The way you deserve." He pauses and takes a deep breath in and out. "But I also need you to trust me. To talk to me. This morning, yesterday, I-"

James out a supportive hand on Regulus's shoulder. When Regulus seemed to struggle with his words, James chimed in. "We just want to support you as best as we can, but we also need to make sure we're all good too. And the only way to do that is if we talk about it. Are you okay with that lovely?"

You nod, but keep your gaze down. "I'm sorry, I know this is a lot and I genuinely wish I knew how to deal with this better. Communicate better. I'm not... I'm not gonna be perfect at it. It may come out wrong."

Regulus tilts your now tear stained face up. His face softens at the sight. "It doesn't need to be perfect. Just try, okay? And I will too. I most definitely do not say the right things always, nor do I express myself very well. Yet you've always been patient and non judgmental of it. Can you trust me to be the same?"

You hold his gaze, doubt blooming behind your eyes. "I trust you I just-"

"Have been hurt by plebians before who couldn't deal with honest communication," Regulus finished.

You look down and nod slightly.

"We don't want you to be perfect," James supplies. "We just want you. As you are, as youve always been. That's all we want."

You meet his gaze and reach your hand out to James. It's like his body could finally relax, touching you. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you guys about it. That I just shut you out."

"S'alright lovely. We get it." James says. "Maybe this is something to talk about with your therapist yeah?"

You nod, "Yeah, I haven't seen her in a while. Probably should."

James smiles at you, at how much he knows that phrase alone took you ages to get even comfortable saying. Going to a therapist and finding one you trusted. He couldn't help but feel himself fill with pride.

Regulus's voice suddenly breaks the silence. "Well I also get it, but it wasn't alright. I've had to deal with work and life all without your cuddles and I've been quite remissed to be honest." James could swear a sort of pout apparated on Regulus's face as he spoke and then disappeared just as quickly.

James sees the slight amusement trace your lips, but you surprise him when you speak with such a deep sincerity and vulnerability. "I'm sorry Reggie. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Regulus nods before you lean in for a quick kiss. Then turn to place one on James as well.

"Well! I don't know about you but that just gave me all the energy I needed today," James says, the biggest smile on his face.

You laugh, a beautiful laugh, at the same time Reggie scoffs but doesn't disagree. He even goes to kiss you again, he notices, but doesn't stop to comment. James knows that things might come up again, that it's not all solved. But you love each other, trust each other, and that's enough.

[the-thieves-gambit]

That. That right there was why she knew that she had to let him go after this. In the short time that she had spent on the island trying to figure out what her next move in life would be, she had become too close to him. So close that he could tell things from a look. It unsettled her. It made her feel too seen. She couldn't be seen. Her survival depended on her never being seen. A part of her felt good to be seen by a man, a good man, like Wally, another part was scared. Scared because she slowly had been realizing how attached she had been becoming of him as well.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she put her hand over his to stop him from ripping off any more skin from his nails. The last she had seen him do that was when he was stressed out about the robbery case that left a security guard fighting for his life and dead ends everywhere. He had exhausted all avenues for a week before coming to her. So she knew hat whatever he was trying to say was hard, so she left her hand on his, comforting him through it. Wanting to know what he had to say. Eyebrows knitted in a slight confusion, her well-being was a priority to him over the kid? Making sure she came out of this okay was the last thing on her mind the moment he told her that the kid was the real reason he had taken this mission. A part of her wanted to truly help, to make a difference of some sort in the world. To help a soul escape the fate that she had been given at such a young age.

It was no secret to her now that he had liked her. Maybe even more than liked her, she had picked up on the subtle things here and there, especially over what he had dubbed adventure week. It was why she had maintained her distance from him. He was not a mark for her to toy with, she was going to be leaving sooner or later and she didn't want to lead him on. She was not someone who stayed. Hell depending on the week, she wasn't even her. He was infatuated with an idea of her, she convinced herself and the sooner this was over and she left the better.

For now, she needed to focus on the task at hand. A plant. Okay, she could work with that.

Before she left, she didn't want to leave things like this. She didn't want him to feel like he's feelings were invalidated, like this honesty wasn't something she was thankful for. Patting his hand, she took her hand back into hers. "I get it. I do. Thank you for worrying about me, I can't say that nothing will happen to me because I have a tendency of running head first in totouble. I will say that I will be more careful." Standing up, she nodded. "I want to help you get this kid one way or another." She would keep her old moniker a secret for now. It would have to be a secret, until the moment it no longer could be. Her becoming a thief again wouldn't be the worst thing she'd ever done. "I care about yours as well. After what you went through yesterday you need to rest. You let me do what I do, and I will be back in a couple of hours with a bit more information, okay."

Bending over, she took his hand into hers and slipped the bracelet off his wrist. "I'll wear the bracelet if that makes you feel better. I assume it has a tracker or something of the sort, right? That's why you were so adamant about it yesterday. I won't wear an earpiece but I'll wear a mic if you want to listen in. If there is something that I can promise you is that I will be careful and that I will help you find this kid." She already had her plan in mind, it was easy as it had always been, flirt, get him to loosen up at a bar. Drinks and a pretty girl saying the right things always made for loose lips. She had done worse things out of selfishness, it was time to be selfless for once.

"No one but you just had this look, like I don't know, it affected you worse than it would have anyone else. It was the look." Could he have been talking nonsense, sure if he was anyone else but Wally caught things from her. He paid attention when he really looked at her. He gave a shrug afterwards not realizing that this wasn't the normal and it could get coughed up to just an agent doing what they did. They were paid to be detail oriented.

He really looked at her past the dress and the way she looked. All of that was nice but there was something in the way she radiated that captivated his attention. Her soft smile made his appear as he nodded and brought his glance down to his hands. "Sure," he whispered as his eyes now took deep interest in his wrist. He did wonder what it would have been like to tuck a stray hair over her ear. If this crush, no it had to have been more than that. It had been more than a few weeks and he still couldn't get her out of his damn mind. Now they were here where she was thinking he didn't believe in her capabilities.

He appreciated the fact she brought him the muffin. His eyes saw where she had put it and thanked her. Going back to what she had said he sighed and took a beat. "I'm not—" his face scrunched up slightly as he ripped the skin off the edge of his nails as he paused and breathed through his nose. "I'm not disputing that. I asked you to come because I knew what I was getting. My belief in you knowing how to do what you do was never in question. I am taking you seriously but I also worry about you. Do you know how that'd make me feel if you got killed because of me? Because you said yes to helping me out? You didn't need to accept but you did anywa. No one has ever been that selfless to help when they didn't need to. It isn't even dangerous because of these bozos out there, trust me I'd take them over my boss any fucking day. Please don't think I'm disputing the fact you can take care of yourself, I'm not. I know you can. This kid is a priority yes, but so is your well being."

His head went back to the mini trail off she did in the middle of her sentence. "Since you what?" Another sigh. "My boss, Karina." How would he even explain this whole bitch to her when he couldn't even describe her without wanting to put a fork through his eyes. "You said Nolan, right? I have a very deep rooted feeling he is a plant coming from her. That's why I think he went and touched you."

"I asked you to come because you're the best at what you do. You don't just look at things in one set ways. I need that. I didn't ask you to come because I wanted to prove I'm better or stronger than you. I don't do that bullshit. I need help and admitting that is hard enough to be honest but here it is. This kid seems like it'll be the first time we won't get her in time. This ring is three steps ahead and I can't help but think it's because they have inside help. As for the rookie by the way she vanished into thin air again. I don't think she's innocent." This was the first time he ever let his walls of having it handled down. To show that weight he actually carried around him. This was one of those moments he wanted to check himself out.

Shaking his head he didn't want her to leave. "You won't hear a peep out of me from now on. Please do what you know how to do. All I ask is that you be careful. I do actually care about your well being."

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

I've got so many thoughts about Fear and I'm trying not to say them all because it's mostly complaining and confusion.

I will say. The um. Dialogue?

[boomstab-papa]

from the website owner who bans you if you link to his blog

"We have a contractual obligation to try to make Live as successful as possible through the end of the year"???!!!!???!? (emphasis mine)

contractual with who???!!!?!?!

[welcometogrouchland]

I am going to try and rewatch thanks to them 😎 (<- unaware of the horrors)

[screampied]

❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."