#you give him some and it changes his life he can’t go back to the way he was living before

[coco-loco-nut]

Take a Chance on Me

pairing: charles x reader

summary: a secret can only stay a secret for so long, especially when you aren’t really trying to hide it

masterlist series masterlist soundtrack

requests open

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You made Charles put in the work, but it felt as easy as breathing for him. He was just thankful to have you in his arms again. Charles took every opportunity to travel from Maranello to your home near Ravenna.

The relationship has been kept under wraps, needing to focus on yourselves and the relationship. It’s been hard to remember that you aren’t the same people as you were before and your relationship won’t be the same either.

Charles really stepped into a father figure role quickly. Neither you or Alessandra expected him to do so right away, but it was an easy adjustment. Truthfully, the whole relationship has been an easier to fall back into than expected.

“Good morning,” Charles kisses your shoulder, voice groggy as you roll over to face him.

“When do you fly out?” you blink away your exhaustion. You’ll be relieved when the season is over.

“I’ll have to leave here in a couple hours,” he replies, pulling you in for a cuddle.

“That’s so soon,” you groan, wanting to fall asleep on his chest.

“I know, but it’s the last race. You’ll see me in a couple days anyway,” Charles is bringing you in Friday evening for Saturday and Sunday. Alessandra has been not-so subtly asking to go to another race and you are happy to go and support him.

“I know,” you reach up and play with the ends of his hair. “I think you need to swing by Monaco and have your mom cut your hair,” you smile, giving it a light tug.

“It’s in my plans for after the race, don’t worry. I do recall you begging for me to grow it out longer,” he smiles lazily.

“Well now it’s too long,” you give him a quick kiss and sit up. “I’ll start breakfast,” you slide one of his shirts on and a pair of shorts before heading to the kitchen. It doesn’t take too long before Charles joins you, easily sliding beside you to help cook.

“Morning, Mom. Good morning, Charles,” Alessandra yawns, wearing an old Ferrari hoodie she stole from Charles after you washed it.

“I was wondering where that went. Remind me to bring you to Monaco, I have a storage unit full of old team kits,” Charles greets warmly.

“Really?” her eyes widen as she sits at the kitchen table.

“Of course, we can go after the prize giving ceremony,” he promises. You never could’ve imagined this being your family. You’ve noticed the little things. How he clearly wants to be a father, but holds back until it’s clear that you and Alessandra are comfortable with that.

“Are you packed?” you set down a plate of pancakes as Charles helps set the table. Alessandra is leaving for the race with Charles after she spent a week begging you. He was kind enough to pull some strings and ‘hire’ her as a temporary personal assistant. She’s been packed for the last few days.

“I’ve been packed,” Charles hides his smile at her response. He’s a little stressed, it’s a lot of responsibility to bring his girlfriend’s daughter on a trip overseas. It’s a test, he knows it is. If something goes wrong he wouldn’t blame you for calling it off.

“Maybe I should change my flight plans,” you joke, taking a seat beside Charles.

“Just say the word and it’s done,” Charles says, making your heart flutter at the notion.

“Can’t, I have some big meetings today and tomorrow,” you remind him.

Breakfast passes by quickly and you find yourself alone in the kitchen cleaning up as Charles finishes packing. A picture frame catches your eye and you grab it. You are beaming at the camera as Alessandra takes some steps out of your arms and towards the camera. You wouldn’t be able to tell from the picture, but that was one of the hardest years of your life.

You were struggling being a single mom, even with your parents help, and your depression didn’t help. The news was filled with Ferrari’s championship year and Charles’ track dominance as he won his first of three championships. You couldn’t escape it. You were even struggling in your career, being a single mom fresh out of college was a challenge you weren’t ready for.

“Mom?” Alessandra’s voice pulls you out of your memories. You hum in acknowledgment, looking away from the photo. “I’ll finish up. Go help Charles pack,” she offers.

“Honey, it’s okay, I’ve got it,” you set the photo down and pull yourself together.

“No, go. Spend some time with your man,” she nudges you away from the sink.

“Okay,” you breathe. Glancing once more at your grown up baby girl before heading to your bedroom.

“When I was a driver, sweats were perfectly acceptable flying attire,” Charles frowns as he buttons up his shirt.

“I don’t know, I like this look,” you fix his collar.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you feel your cheeks flame as you place a stack of folded clothes into his suitcase.

You notice nervous energy as Charles double checks his backpack.

“Hey, everything okay?” you extend your hand and gently touch his shoulder,

“I know we pretty much have the championships on lock, but what if something happens? It came down to the last race for a reason,” Charles stresses.

“Then it wasn’t meant to happen this year. Trust yourself and your team like you have every time, have fun, and just remember it’s another regular weekend at the track,” you use roughly the same speech you gave Alessandra many times before a dance recital or football game.

“I don’t know how I survived without you,” Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against your back in a hug.

“Alright, you need to get going,” you sigh, feeling his warmth leave you. Charles watches you quickly get dressed to go to work, wishing he could just stop time and spend the day in bed with you. You feel a greater sadness when he and Alessandra get into his car and drive off.

“Excited?” Charles asks as the plane nears Abu Dhabi. Alessandra looks like a younger version of you, wide eyed and ready to take on the world.

“I am, thank you for bringing me early,”

“Of course. You did the hard part of convincing your mom,” Charles feels like it is thankless.

“You know, it’s all kinda crazy. I went from being a fan to having a guy who is basically my dad be the team principal of Ferrari,” Alessandra mentions, warming Charles’ heart at the words.

“Well I never thought I’d have the chance to have a daughter figure, or ever see your mom again, so I think I’m the lucky one,” Charles is careful with his words. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he does want to be honest.

“I know we aren’t there yet as a family, but I do look forward to the day where you will be my dad,” Charles reaches across the aisle and gives her a hug.

“Soon,” Charles promises. Does he have a ring already picked out? He bought one a couple days after reconciling.

The next two days pass by quickly. You get so many updates from Alessandra and Charles that you feel like you are right there with them. As you lock the door to your home, your phone pings with a text. It’s a photo of Alessandra on the pit wall where Charles usually sits, headset on and looking at data while Charles points something out. You quickly dial his number as you carry your bag to your parents car.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit young to manage the team?” you ask when he picks up, your smile audible through the phone.

“She’s learning from the best. Our future leader of Ferrari,” Charles replies. Our. Your heart warms at the word, at his want to be a part of your family and the integration of your family into his life.

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend that she sits on the pit wall during a race, but to each their own,” you laugh.

“I take it you are on your way to the plane then?” Charles asks, you hear shuffling and the shut of a door in the background. You have his full attention.

“I am, my father says hello by the way,” you sink into the car seat, anxious to arrive in Abu Dhabi.

“Hello back to him,” you chat for a few more minutes until he has to go again. Your father turns up the radio once the call ends, an old CD that has played on many trips. With the sun streaming through the window, you are taken back to the days when he would take you to a nearby town as an adventure.

“I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but I am glad you two are back together again,” you dad speaks as you get closer to the airport.

“You are?”

“Of course. He’s one of the few people who have ever made you truly happy. It was unfortunate when you ended things the first time. I’m happy to see my baby girl happy again once more,”

“I am just still a little on edge. It’s hard to trust after all these years,” you pick at the hem of your shirt.

“How does my stellina feel about the relationship?” your fathers asks, briefly glancing at you.

“She adores him, and not just because of his occupation. She is the reason we found each other again after all,” your words have a fondness to them that you hadn’t recognized yourself yet. Maybe Charles isn’t the only one ready to take that step.

“Then why the hesitation?” you open your mouth to answer but no words come to mind. “Tesoro, everything you have done for nearly the last seventeen years has been for Alessandra. It is okay to allow yourself another source of happiness, especially one that already seems to have her approval.”

“How did you become so wise?” your smile meets your eyes.

���The same way you have, raising a headstrong daughter,” your father stops at your drop off point, following Charles’s instructions to a t.

“Thank you,” you give him a hug goodbye and head inside. You spend the flight watching movies and napping. Charles is still at the track for free practice two when you land, so a hospitality staff member is sent to pick you up and bring you to the track.

“Miss Rossi?” the staff member isn’t hard to spot, their crisp Ferrari polo standing out in the crowd.

“That’s me,” you smile tiredly.

“We should get going, best not to leave Mr. Leclerc waiting,” the British accent sounds almost harsh against the Italian you are accustomed to. “How was your flight?”

“Pleasant, thank you for asking, and for retrieving me from the airport,” your luggage is loaded into the waiting car and you slip into the back seat.

“This is your paddock pass, please do not lose it,”

“Thanks,” the car ride is short, and a little awkward. You expected it, retrieving your boss’s significant other is probably not a fun task.

“We will handle your luggage from here,” the staff member leaves you at the front of the hospitality center.

“Mom!” Alessandra rushes over to hug you.

“Hi,” you hug her back, squeezing a little tighter.

“Charles is in a meeting but he will be right out,” she says professionally, practicing her assistant role.

“Well then, what do you recommend we do?”

“Y/n?” a familiar voice distracts you.

“Carlos? What are you doing here?” you take a step forward to hug Charles’s former teammate, but quickly stop yourself.

“I could ask the same, I haven’t seen you in, god almost twenty years. I’m here to support the team in winning the championship, you know, former driver things. What are you doing here?” Carlos also seems unsure of how to proceed.

“I, um, Charles and I got back together recently. This is my daughter, Alessandra. She pulled the strings and here we are,” you motion to your near carbon copy. Carlos quickly tries to identify any of Charles’ features but finds none.

“Hi, I’m a huge fan,” Alessandra is giddy. It seems like you both just arrived.

“Two of my favorite people arrived,” Charles steps into the room with a smile.

“Your wife is here,” you point at Carlos with a teasing grin.

“Forget him, let’s run away together,” Carlos teases back. It takes Charles back, like you never broke up.

“Don’t do that. Ready to head out?” Charles asks you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yep, although your staff did something with my luggage,” you look around for someone to ask.

“On its way to the hotel as we speak. Are you hungry, we can go get dinner?” Charles asks like you are the only person in the room.

“I would love some, thanks for asking,” Carlos replies as Charles rolls his eyes affectionately.

“Maybe we can order in?” You suggest, not in the mood to go out anywhere.

“Sounds like a plan. Carlos you are welcome to join,” Charles extends the offer, knowing Carlos will take it anyway.

“Send me the time and room number, we have some catching up to do,” Carlos leaves the three of you.

“Sometimes I wish you two never split. Like, can you imagine if Carlos was my uncle from birth,” Alessandra says as you near Charles’ car. Carlos is only a few steps ahead, so you and Charles capitalize on it.

“You don’t want that, he has horrible jokes,” Charles deflects, but speaking loud enough for Carlos to hear.

“That’s true, and his singing is worse,”

“Aye, take that back,” Carlos turns around.

“Smooth operator,” Charles sings mockingly.

“Are they always like this?” Alessandra asks, looking at you.

“They always were. Some fans didn’t believe it, but they were good friends, even if they didn’t spent much time together outside of work,” you answer. Even if you were only present for that one summer, you took every piece of information and carefully stored it in your mind.

Dinner comes and goes, Carlos told many stories as you exchanged life updates before Charles kicked everyone out for a ‘strict bed time’. He just saw you falling asleep on his shoulder and took advantage of the opportunity.

“What do I even wear. What do the other partners of a team principal wear?” you rummage through your bag, stressing out.

“You could show up in sweatpants and I’d be happy. But to answer your question, the same thing as you wore when you attended my races before,” Charles reaches into your bag and pulls out a red top and white dress pants.

“People will see us together and judge, I don’t want bad opinions on day one,” you quickly change, stressing over the smallest details.

“There will be every kind of opinion no matter how you dress, but the only one that matters is mine. Your return to the paddock will be one looked upon favorably,” Charles promises.

“I love you,” you tell him for the first time since before you split. Charles pauses, running the moment back over in his head to make sure he heard right.

“I love you too, I never stopped,” Charles sweeps you into a kiss, carefully restraining himself since you don’t have much time before you leave.

The morning seems quiet to you, not quite the normal excitement that a race would bring. Maybe it’s fatigue, everyone ready to make that final push to the end of this season and the start of the next. Perhaps it’s just the time, having been among the first to arrive in order to get settled and for Charles to ensure he has time with you and Alessandra before his busy schedule. Either way, you soak it all in, not wanting to take everything for granted.

“Okay, we have a meeting with some of the development drivers. See you in a bit,” Charles presses a soft kiss to your lips, and as he pulls away Carlos walks in with two coffees.

“Have fun,” you take a seat beside Carlos, who generously offered to spend time with you.

Alessandra trails Charles into a conference room where three teenage boys around her age talk excitedly.

“I’ll be right back, stay here,” Charles looks down, realizing he forgot his computer.

“Who are you?” one of the boys asks, not bothering to state his name first.

“Alessandra, Charles is my, uh, father,” she replies, standing awkwardly by the doorway.

“Are you sure, you don’t sound confident about that,” the same guy replies.

“Sorry about that. This is my daughter, Alessandra. Alessandra, these are three of our junior drivers,” Charles sits down and Alessandra takes a seat beside him, feeling more confident. The meeting passes by quickly compared to the others, talking about targets and progress rather than times and data.

Alessandra rejoins you and Carlos, taking a snack to boost her energy while waiting for her next duty. Charles walks in with one of the reserve drivers, who is almost immediately distracted by Alessandra’s presence.

“Absolutely NOT, she is off limits to you and any other Ferrari member,” Charles narrows his eyes, the scariest he’s ever been.

“Okay, my bad,” the kid quickly apologizes, a little embarrassed.

“Charles, don’t scare him,” you chastise, leaving Alessandra with Carlos who is more than happy to talk her ear off. “She is off limits though,” you agree with Charles.

“Come with me, mon amour,” Charles takes your hand, leading you to his office. The door clicks behind you, locked for privacy.

“Don’t you have things to do?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“I have some time before qualifying,” he steps close to you, tenderly kissing you.

“Is that so?” you grin, gently pulling him closer to you. He hums lowly, letting the tension softly build between you.

“I should bring you to every race,” Charles says lowly, cherishing the quiet moment in a hectic weekend.

“You’d get nothing done,” your soft laugh fills the room, still sending Charles’ heart racing.

“Worth it,” a knock breaks your bubble making both of you sigh.

“Go, they need you,” you press one last kiss to his lips.

“I’ll see you later,” Charles swiftly exits the room, leaving you behind as he heads to the track. You follow behind a few minutes later, finding Alessandra where you left her.

“You look just as flustered as Charles,” Alessandra smirks before it falls a second later. “I don’t want to know,” she grimaces, erasing the thought from her mind.

“Oh, shush. Nothing happened,” you take a seat beside her. Ollie and Kimi’s partners approach carefully, unsure what the proper way to greet your partner’s boss’s partner.

“Hi, we think you should see this,” Ollie’s partner turns their phone towards you and Alessandra. It’s an article with a picture of the two of you and Charles entering the paddock. There’s also an old photo of you and Charles from your prior relationship.

“I didn’t think they’d catch on so soon,” you frown.

“How widespread?” Alessandra asks, mind jumping into solution mode. With only half an hour until qualifying, it isn’t the moqq as

“It’s spreading quickly. Kimi told me that Charles is in a meeting but the PR team is usually on top of this stuff,” Kimi’s partner answers, not sugarcoating it. Alessandra quickly gets on social media.

“The reaction seems positive. Not too much is known about us, so everyone seems to be congratulating Charles on a happy relationship,” Alessandra chooses to hide the speculation around her paternity.

“Hi, could you follow me?” as expected, the chief communications officer finds you swiftly. You and Alessandra follow her to a small meeting room where Charles is looking at a summary on a tablet. Carefully, you take a seat beside him, his hand immediately finding yours under the table.

“So, how do we approach this?” Charles looks into your eyes, ignoring his communications team.

“We need to be honest when asked if we are together. It isn’t that big of a deal now that it’s out there, especially since I’m not some celebrity,” you answer honestly. “We reconnected after running into one another after a long time apart, it’s pretty simple.”

“I’m afraid there is something a little more concerning than that,” the communications chief voice doesn’t match her slightly nervous expression. “There is a lot of growing speculation around Alessandra’s father, and her working under Charles this week isn’t helping,” you feel anger bubbling up, a squeeze from Charles’s hand holds you back.

“I don’t understand, why do they have a right to ask about a child who is not one of our drivers,” Charles practically seethes, wanting to protect the girl he’s come to see as his daughter.

“Alessandra has no father, there is not one on her birth certificate. She is my daughter and that is that,” your eyes narrow.

“Charles is certainly like a father to me at this point, but my mother is right. If asked, my father was never in the picture. I’d prefer that my relationship with Charles is kept between us at this stage,” Alessandra shifts in her seat, bridging yours and Charles’s statements. Alessandra has no doubt that she will be adopted by Charles eventually, but that isn’t information that needs to be known outside of the family.

“Right. We will address the press outside and quickly draft some bullet points for when you get stopped by the press,” with that, Charles dismisses himself, ending the meeting. This wasn’t how he planned the weekend on going, but he should’ve known better to plan for this. You stand up, following Charles without a second thought.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Charles runs a frustrated hand through his hair. While he’s supposed to be focusing on the race he now has the press to think about.

“They were going to find out at some point. Best they learn during the last race than the first,” you bitterly smile, walking with him.

“You’re right, you always are,” Charles lets out a deep breath.

“Hey, I trust your judgment. Whatever you say to the press, I will back you,” you gently take his hand and give it a squeeze. You aren’t used to giving up control like that, but you are partners in your relationship.

“I love you,” Charles presses a quick kiss to your forehead before heading to the garage. Alessandra stays in hospitality with you, watching the television feed of Quali.

Once you return to the hotel, you sit in Charles’s hotel room to discuss your options.

“This is what the team sent over,” Charles turns his computer around to face Alessandra.

“I don’t think we should hide anything, just ignore any inquiries into the family,” Alessandra shrugs.

“I’m okay with that,” Charles agrees. You don’t speak, simply nodding in agreement. Alessandra yawns sleepily after the long day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she stands, yawning as she stretches.

“Sleep well, love you,” you hug her tightly.

“See you then,” Charles offers a small smile and a reminder of when to meet in the morning.

After a quiet morning, the three of you make your way into the paddock. Almost immediately you are swarmed. Some yell questions about the team and qualifying results, but the majority ask questions about you. Security stalwarts to break them up, but Charles seizes the opportunity to make a statement.

“My family is a private matter. Unless the questions are relevant to the team and racing, I will not be answering them,” Charles says firmly, holding you a little tighter as your grip on Alessandra’s arm is firmer. Security makes a gap and the three of you slip through, quickly moving away from the media vultures.

As you walk into the Ferrari motorhome, your mind fixates on one word. Family. You don’t know why Charles chose that to describe you and Alessandra. Convenience or his truth - that you are his family.

“You look… rattled,” Carlos greets you. Charles was pulled away as soon as you stepped foot inside. Not that you are complaining, it’s race day, of course he is busy. Alessandra went off with some interns she befriended over the weekend, needing to be around people near her own age.

“I, um, we got surrounded by the media,” you explain, a little frustrated. Carlos nods sympathetically, clearly having seen the articles about his former teammate.

“They are ruthless, they used go call Rebecca and I a PR relationship,” Carlos scoffs, relating to your frustration. You want to ask him for his insight, try to know what Charles meant by the word family, but you just can’t bring yourself to.

“It comes with the territory, I suppose,” your bitter smile matches his own.

“Well, I haven’t seen him so happy in a while. That’s what matters,” Carlos offers his support.

“Isn’t it crazy how much we all have changed?” you glance as Carlos’s lock screen, a photo of him and his son - Carlos Sainz III wearing race suits.

“We are all grown up. You three should come to Madrid. There is a nice karting track and I can show you around,” Carlos suggests. He and Charles keep in touch, but they aren’t that close. Carlos thinks it might be nice to grow that relationship, especially with his son expressing interest and talent in karting.

“I’m sure Charles would like that. We should find a time before the season starts or you won’t see Charles until summer break,” your smile is genuine, glad to have a friend in Carlos.

“Has she ever karted?” Carlos glances at Alessandra, who is eagerly saying something to one of the development drivers.

“No. She asked, but the money and being a single mom,” you trail off, unable to add another truth to why you kept her away. “Being Italian, it’s impossible to not love Ferrari and she’s always had an attraction to the sport. Karting just wasn’t an option,” you shrug.

“Charles isn’t?” Carlos doesn’t say the rest, letting the implied question speak for itself. You shake your head.

“Her sperm donor has never been in the picture, that relationship was a mistake - a rebound from Charles - and by the time I knew both were long over,” you admit.

“And how does she feel about Charles?” Carlos prods, enjoying the story session. It feels like a conversation you would have laying in your best friends dark bedroom room at 3am during a sleepover, or at brunch over a mimosa.

“She adores him. I think they see each other as a father and a daughter, but they won’t admit it yet. They’ve really taken to each other,” you feel warm and fuzzy thinking about it.

“I’m glad, you deserve that. Having someone to support you for once and to care for you, it’s nice,” Carlos still sees you and Charles as the energetic carefree couple that you were twenty years ago, so sure that you had an endless amount of time together. He never asked why you broke, but he is sure that would cause too much pain to bring up. Carlos has overheard bits and pieces, but he doesn’t know the whole story. It wasn’t his place to ask.

“I’m glad to have you as a friend,” you tell Carlos who smiles warmly at you.

You spend the rest of your day and the race with him. Charles joined you for a few minutes while he had time to spare before the race. Alessandra joins you, eagerly listening as Carlos points things out and shares his experiences as a driver. And when Kimi and Ollie cross the line taking a 1-2, you practically jump into Carlos’ arms hugging him.

Carlos guides you towards the podium when the time comes, joining Charles and the team to celebrate the championship and win.

“Mon amour!” Charles pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tight.

“You did it, just like you did as a driver,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Congrats, Charles,” Alessandra says as you pull away, allowing her to hug him as well.

“Thank you, piccola,” Charles says softly, not thinking about using the nickname he’s only ever said in his head. Charles’ hand finds yours as you stand beside him proudly. Alessandra stands at the other side of him with Carlos, happy in the family she’s gained.

As you sing among your compatriots and the team, you don’t know how it could get better than this moment.

[saatorus]

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — open!

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

 “I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

 That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

[silverbrain]

Diary

Summary- Caleb finds MC’s diary and reads it. Angst ensues.

Words- 8k

Caleb has made it a habit to frequent your apartment in Linkon. Since you’d taken care of him when he was sick, something had changed for him, back at Skyhaven. The city seemed less empty, less cold and on the days that it did, he could simply disappear into his phone and call his favorite person.

He still struggled to let you see his vulnerable side, he knows it’s a problem, but he doesn’t let it hinder him from trying to pry his way back into your life. He couldn’t however, get rid of his habit of showing up unannounced, a small part of him still scared that if he called ahead, you’d try to avoid him.

This often caused him to have to stay at your place while the association sent you on your way, your daily grind not stopping because your childhood best friend had returned.

Today was one such day, and Caleb was simply relaxing on the sofa, after having set a delicious apple pie in the oven. His phone rings. His eyes light up seeing your name. “Hey, it’s my favorite pipsqueak!”

“You call other people pipsqueak?”, you narrow your eyes.

“Of course not. You’re the only-“

“Anyways. Caleb, you’re at my place, right?”, you ask hurriedly.

“Yeah…?”, he replies, instantly setting his feet on the floor sensing your tone. “Why?”

“Could you do me a favor and check my desk to see if Jenna’s birthday card is there?”

Caleb relaxes his shoulders that had tensed up involuntarily. “Sure thing, hold on”

He pads his way to your room, making his way to the desk. It’s relatively neat, save the piles of files in a corner and the haphazard stationery. “Uh…”

“Are you at my desk?”

“Yeah”

“Okay. Is it there? It’s in a dark blue gift bag?”

“Uh... I don’t see it”, Caleb replies, balancing the phone between his right shoulder and ear as he gingerly shuffles the files around. He opens a drawer, only to find it filled with some odds and ends, and tries his luck with the other. This one is more organized, filled mostly with thick books of a shade of dark purple. He quickly checks between them. “Okay, hold on”

Nestled between two books is the bag and Caleb pulls it out quickly. “I think I see it. Dark blue bag with two cards inside”

“Yup! Thank goodness!”, you sigh happily. “Could you please give it to Xavier? He’s coming over to get it?”

“I can just drop it off if you need me to pipsq-“, he says, but you interrupt him.

“No, no, I’d feel bad making you bear the Linkon traffic. Besides, Xavier needs to be at the association anyways so…”

Caleb hums quietly. “Sure, if you say so. Will you be late?”

“No… at least I don’t think so…Jenna’s going on vacation for her birthday, so we’re just doing a small office party today”

Caleb nods. “So…this Xavier…”

“Yeah, he should be there any minute, he lives upstairs”

“Oh”.

He didn’t like that.

He didn’t like it at all.

He dawdles awkwardly while he waits for this Xavier. Xavier turns out to be…rather surprising. Dressed in an outfit similar to your own, he’s talking on his phone as he offers a bright smile. “Hi, I’m Xavier…” Caleb doesn’t let him continue, shoving the bag in his direction. Xavier happily takes it and turns, replying with a small ‘yes, I got it’. It only fuels the irritation brewing at Caleb’s fingertips. He was on a call with you.

After trying to will away the annoyance in his chest at the sight of the confident blue-eyed man, Caleb returns to the desk, shuffling the things back to where they were. A bunch of polaroids drop to the ground from one of the books, which he picks up instead.

He doesn’t recognize anybody in the photo besides you, but he assumes the one you’re making a finger heart with is Tara, your best friend. Two other women huddle close behind, and then there’s the three men. Xavier, a black-haired man with glasses who didn’t look happy to be there, and a smart looking man with a not-so subtle hand on the long-haired woman’s waist. His eyes linger on your smile, the way you look so happy and content and he can’t deny the pang he feels in his chest. She has friends.

She has people she loves. And who love her.

He looks at the photo for a bit, before it began to hurt too much, and then he turns it over in his hand. Company Dinner 02/02/2048. Deciding it was enough snooping, he tries to find where it had fallen out of, before he sees two other photos lodged between two different pages. He carefully turns the pages. There’s one of her with a purple haired guy, with a painting the size of a wall behind them.

His hand is on her waist, his brain registers ruefully.

Rafayel’s exhibition 01/03/2048.

Huh.

He places both the photos back inside, before turning to the last one. A silver haired man sits with a crow on his finger, smiling at the camera like the very act of taking a photo was his prime source of amusement. Caleb feels his blood boil a little. He imagines her taking it, smiling, and this man’s ruby red eyes watching her. Sylus 12/12/2048

Making a mental note to find out who this Sylus guy was, he slams the book shut.

He can hear his breathing.

That’s never a good sign. He’s about to pack them away when his fingers open up one of the purple books and skims over the first line, written in a loose mixture of cursive and print.

Dear Diary,

Life is complex, but it is during times like these that I…

He slams the book shut, his heartbeat in his ears. This…is your diary. Your most personal thoughts. Written down on paper, within reach, right there, at his fingertips. And there’s not one book. There’s multiple. This wasn’t a one-time thing. It was a habit.

He stays there for a few seconds, his fingers frozen, his thoughts a mess, but then he slowly piles the books back into the drawer. Except the one he’s holding. He checks the last page. It’s filled. He sits down slowly on the chair facing your desk.

He shouldn’t.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But then again, he shouldn’t have drugged you either. He knows it’s a bad idea. Back then, he had the excuse of needing to protect you. There was no excuse for this. There was no excuse for him to read your personal diary. And yet, he found his gaze transfixed and his hands turning over the pages of your diary.

Dear Diary,

Life is complex, but it is during times like these that I turn to home. I don’t really get how and when does one’s ‘home’ change from the place you grew up in to something else. I’ve been away since college and yet when I go back home, it feels like I’ve hit the reset button. I love it there.

I’m seeing Caleb today, after quite some time. He has not been home since forever, and grandma keeps pestering me to tell him to visit, as if he’s going to listen to me, of all people! Caleb just marches to the beat of his own drum. Still, I miss him. I’m soo excitedd.

I’m not going to carry this diary there, it’s too much work trying to hide it, so adios!

Caleb can’t stop himself from reading further. He remembers that day clearly.

Dear Diary,

I’m back!! The trip home was great. I saw Caleb after ages. He looked happy. Can’t believe he’s a pilot now. In fact, I can’t believe the three of us really did become what we always wanted to- Zayne became a doctor, Caleb became a pilot and I became a hunter. Imagine we had switched roles? Imagine Zayne as a hunter and me chiding him for injuring himself, that’s funny. Or imagine Caleb as a doctor. He wouldn’t last a minute when he sees those pools of blood. Or maybe he would. I don’t know. He’d make a good hunter too, he was always fighting the bullies in school.

Grandma looked okay, but I wish she would stop growing older. Every time I see her, I can’t help but worry. The doctor has increased her medication too.

I felt my system reset, like I said it would. Every time I go back, I feel like I’m okay. Otherwise, it’s so easy to feel like a mess, like I’m not doing enough, and like I should be doing so much more, things like that.

However, I’ve decided to go to the arcade at least once a week. When I saw Caleb’s airplane models, I decided I should spend some time doing things I like- like collecting plushies. I don’t have the energy to pick up a new hobby right now, but I can at least start a little collection.

Caleb smiles. He looks over at the neatly lines plushies on the wall mounted shelf. You sure kept up the promise. He carries the book over to the couch.

Only a little more.

Dear Diary,

I met Zayne today, for my yearly medical checkup. He lectured me about sleeping and eating and getting injured less and other things that I zoned out about. He worries too much about everything. If I worried this much about each Wanderer I had to fight, I’d have grey hair before 25.

Speaking of grey hair, Nina from weapons found a grey hair yesterday, so she’s worried. She bleaches her hair a lot, so maybe it’s because of that. Wait let me look that up.

Okay, so apparently constantly bleaching your roots can do that to your hair. Maybe I should text her that. I had hotpot for dinner today, it was great. I do eat outside a lot, but I simply don’t know what to cook, that’s the reason why.

Caleb remembers the pie in the oven, just in time. He takes his time in the kitchen, unable to keep the little smile off his face. She’s so cute, he can’t help but think, but it’s combined with a sinking feeling. There’s so much that she thinks about. So much that I don’t know.

Caleb spends the next hour reading through. He promises himself he wouldn’t pry too deep. He'd stop if things got too personal, but the line between the two of you had always been blurry. Where did he end and you begin? What secret was too dark that you'd hide it from him? He didn't know, he couldn't tell.

He slipped the book into his backpack for later.

You return sometime later, and Caleb is more than happy to welcome you and your stories from work. He feels happy, and so much lighter than he has since so many days.

"And then...Tara nearly fell into her arms!"

Caleb laughs heartily, but his mind lingers longer on your smiley eyes than the story you tell.

x

Skyhaven is bright, but it is also too clean, too clinical. Too empty, Caleb thinks. His breaks are punctuated with questions of when he’s getting to see you again, finger loitering over the video call button. Should he call? Would that be too much? You always did like your space.

Caleb had stuffed the book in his backpack and it now lay under his mattress-a little night reading before he went to bed. Initially, he hadn’t been able to keep the jealous feelings from coiling painfully in his stomach when you wrote about the other men you knew, but eventually he found himself feeling pretty neutral about them. You seemed…dare he say happy? His heart drops a little at the thought again, but it was true. You were allowed to be happy without him.

He deserved that.

Besides, he couldn’t keep them away from you when they claimed to be ‘friends’, so he continues, trying to see what you were like when he didn’t have his eyes on you.

Dear Diary,

Today, Rafayel slipped on a paintbrush and admitted himself to the hospital. I really don’t understand how he’s so clumsy. He also had the audacity to lie to me!! First, he pretended not to recognise me as revenge, because I didn’t visit him as soon as he texted. And then, he said he fell while trying to save a child!! He’s ridiculous!!

Caleb chuckles. This Rafayel guy was funny at least.

Then, he proceeded to tell me some stories and wanted to run away from the hospital but Zayne would actually kill me if he found out I helped a patient elope, so I refused. Zayne has been superr busy too.

He could see you in his mind’s eye, arguing with this Rafayel guy. He rolls over in bed, clutching the precious diary closer.

I was hoping to have lunch with him today but he didn’t even have time for that. I really don’t get how he survives the day on cafeteria sandwiches. Especially those particular hospital cafeteria sandwiches. The mayo is so watery, it once ran down my lip as if I’d bit into a strawberry. Zayne has good taste in restaurants, plus he’s a good cook. That’s surprising, but I guess it’s not that hard to follow instructions off a video. I don’t understand how Xavier managed to burn tea today, AGAIN. It's like my life is a sitcom! He called me, all panicked, at 7:25, when I had an alarm for 7:30, and I had to go and help him. How is he so capable as a hunter but so terrible at cooking? Does it do it for fun? I don’t think he does? He looks too pitiful when he does, like he really would like to get it right but simply can’t. Also called Caleb today but the reception was ass, so we spoke for only like 10 minutes.

Caleb’s heart thumps at the mention of his name. He remembers that call. He had tried to use the fleet’s Wifi, but nothing had been working. Regret seeps into his bones slowly. It seems like the only emotion he feels these days. A sudden ringing of his phone startles him out of his reminiscing.

He looks over at his phone on the bedside table.

Call from Darling Pipsqueak. He quickly picks up.

“Hey, pipsqueak!”, he greets.

“Hi! Are you free?”

“For you, yes”, he replies, his lips curling into a smile at the sound of your voice.

You don’t notice. Caleb is good at pretending.

“I have to tell you what happened today”, you sound particularly happy, and he closes the book to face the screen.

He stops for a second and decides to take it in.

All of it.

He’s here, and you’re calling him to tell him about your colleague who tripped over the sidewalk and you’re laughing, and you’re not looking at him with doubt, or fear, or confusion because you’re laughing.

Regret.

Regret can wait for when his heart isn’t thumping at the way you’re smiling at him.

X

Dear Diary,

I was talking to Tara about Mark. After she insisted on making me download an app which made matches based on ‘personality and Evol’, I swiped a few men left and right before I met him. He was nice at first, even though he seemed a bit nervous. He was chatty and funny and like generally, there was nothing wrong with him but…wait I’ll elaborate in a minute. Me and Tara were at Café Serena, trying the new sfogliatellas with matcha and she was taking these Pinterest date pics. She was way too excited for me and Mark. Things have been going well, but I don’t feel as excited about it as she wants me to be.

It just feels like pretence. There’s nothing technically wrong with him. He’s smart, and flirty and he appreciates me and makes me feel seen, but I feel like I’m playing a role on a stage instead of ‘being me’, you know? I imagined calling him my boyfriend and sitting with him in that same café and I just simply didn’t care. I didn’t hate it, but I couldn’t care less. How do people fall in love with strangers? How do people fall in love at all?

He hadn’t known about this. You hadn’t told him.

Caleb closes the book and stuffs it under his mattress. He needs to sleep. He needs to run. He needs to do something to chase away the feeling that’s creeping below his skin at the mention of this Mark. In fact, he needs to sleep right now if he wishes to catch at least four hours. His job as a Colonel was still an integral part of his every day, even though his mind wandered to Linkon City every ten minutes.

He tosses and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. Finally, he pulls it out again and huffs. Sleep be damned, he has to find out how it ended with Mark. 

The next entry is dated fifteen days later.

Dear Diary,

Me and Mark ‘broke up’.

See, technically, he knew that. You were single now, weren’t you? But Caleb can’t deny the rush of satisfaction that floods his veins as he reads the words on the page.

I simply don’t care. I don’t know if it’s callous of me. Mark looked confused for a moment, but then he looked disappointed. ‘You’re really emotionally unavailable’ he said and I am SO ANGRY. WHAT DOES HE MEAN! I’m plenty emotional. I just didn’t feel the spark with him. At this point I’m fed up of all this dating business.

I don’t know why I feel upset when I broke up with him. I don’t know, I’m going to sleep. I need to wash my hair first. I’m fucking annoyed at everything!

Caleb intended to feel a sense of relief, but he just felt annoyed. You shouldn’t have to feel like something was wrong with you because of some guy.

The next day, Caleb wishes he had makeup to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He had stayed up all night, reading further, wanting to leave on a good note. The next few entries had just been short tired updates, or gossip from your hunter friends, or irritated outbursts about Mark, which had only fuelled the already present disdain he felt for this man.

His eyes were burning.

He runs his finger over the plush material of the book, which he had carried to his office, and now sat locked away in a drawer by his left. h

X

That night, he’s settled into bed. Little does he know that he’s only got a few pages before that day. That day when everything changed for him, but everything ended for you.

Dear Diary,

Grandma’s gone. Caleb’s gone too.

His hands shake a little as he sees the dried drops that had stained the ink of your pen into little purple pools. Tears.

Oh.

Oh, he had…he wouldn’t say forgotten, but he had locked it away. He had imagined you happy. Now he’s faced with the consequences of his actions in the truest form, the proof of how he’d hurt you.

That same day, I had lunch with them. Caleb cooked for us too. He looked different I don’t know why, and we fought about something dumb- about how I don’t rely on him or something. He entered the house and it just exploded. I don’t remember much, no matter how hard I try. I was just there and then I wasn’t. I woke up in the hospital. Zayne understands my need to keep busy. It is the only way I can do anything. If I sit down, I will never stand up. If I sleep, it feels like I will never wake up. Some days I wish it, actually.

I refuse to believe it was an accident. Zayne said the professor who worked with grandma about something related to Protocore syndrome might have had something to do with the explosion. I have to find out. I will find out what happened there, because there’s no way that was just an accident. We’re going to Mt. Eternal next week.

So, you had always suspected. A part of his mind marvels at how you always knew, but he can’t focus on it when he turns the pages to see so much, so many words written in the days that followed.

A brief moment has him wondering if he should stop, if this was the line he couldn’t, shouldn’t cross. Not for you, for him.

He didn’t know if he was ready to see exactly how he’d caused that much hurt.

He falls asleep clutching the book to his chest like a lifeline.

X

The next diary entry is dated a month later.

Dear Diary,

Zayne visited me today, which was strange since he works 25/7. At first, I was suspicious of him, but he said he was just there ‘to hang out’. We cooked dinner together, although he did most of the work, and then we had dinner. He was really chatty today. We spoke about many things. He even made me an ice duck- just because I said his expertise only extended to ice seals. It was fun.

Caleb sighs. Zayne. His mind conjured up an image of the man, albeit much younger. Time hadn’t erased much of your image from his head, but it had been years since he had met the man. He remembers a boy, a quiet, shy boy, but the same nonetheless. A boy who would always make sure you were okay. He’s apparently that same boy. Would Caleb ever meet him again?

He can’t help but stare at the book for a moment, his fingers twitching to reach over and dial your number, hear your voice. He nearly jumps when his phone does ring, and he reaches out excitedly only to see it’s from Gideon.

“I hope you still live at Capella Towers because…I’m right here”

Gideon had shown up to his place to ‘catch up’. Caleb shouldn’t have been surprised. The night ended with him drinking way more than necessary and the next day he would have barely considered himself awake till he was already sitting at his desk at the Fleet. The day went quickly for him, which was a good thing. You also replied to his post on Moments, and he had to bite back a smile in the corridor. It wouldn’t do his reputation any well to smile in the Fleet’s corridors.

It's not before he’s back in bed that he realizes something his off. His hand involuntarily moves to the slot between his mattress and bedframe, feeling around for the book that has become habit to him, only to find nothing but the cold metal. He immediately sits up, body bolting up straight as a rod before he lifts the corner of the mattress straight off.

It’s empty.

The book is gone.

Panic sets in, driving any rational thoughts away. He drops to his knees, feeling around once more as if his metal fingers had simply missed the first two times.

There was no way he lost the book.

Caleb stands, rapidly crossing the room to grab the small bag he carries to work. Nothing but his ID and water bottle sits there.

Besides, why would it be in his bag?

Could Gideon have found it? No way.

Caleb stands, sweat beginning to form at his hairline.

Gideon wouldn’t do such a thing, would he? He’s probably tease Caleb about it first. That would only leave the office-

Caleb moves fast. He’s in his car before the minute is up, not bothering to change out of his cotton pants and loose T shirt. He’s about to break every signal if it comes to it, and he clutches the wheel like his fingers would leave prints. He’s striding to the main gate in no time, scanning his ID and ignoring the guard at the entrance before marching to his desk. He takes a deep breath.

Caleb tears open the drawers. Papers fly.

He sees it.

The little book. Caleb clutches it in his hand. He flips through the pages, just in case.

Just in case. His heart is still thumping dully when he reaches home.

X

Dear Diary,

A few days ago, Rafayel was pestering me about not visiting him so I did. That was the first bad idea. I had already had a bad day, thinking about everything, and I was hoping talking to him would sort some things out but it didn’t help. Instead, he began talking about Lemuria and a few other things and I was trying to be sympathetic but after a point, I found myself just simply nodding. I couldn’t help him. I knew it was a wound for him that still hurt, but I couldn’t help him, and he knew it! I tried to keep track of the conversation but I zoned out for a long moment, I think.

I had my laptop with me and I still had work to upload. I just continued working. Rafayel kept talking, and even though I appreciated the company, it was just a lot. The scraggly handwritten reports written by Nero, which I could barely read, the swish of the waves outside the window, the buffering internet, Rafayel’s voice, it was just irritating me…I was also nauseous since I hadn’t eaten, I think.

 I ended up throwing the files across his studio. The effect was terrible. Papers flew everywhere, and I wanted to rip them to shreds. I also think I shocked Rafayel.

Rafayel gave me a hug then.  I don’t know what came over me- why I was so angry. It just felt like I was useless as a friend to Rafayel, to grandma, to Caleb, to Linkon as a hunter. I just felt generally useless. I was too useless to deserve even his friendship.

All I wanted to do was go home and lie down and sleep and not think about how my life was falling apart every single day, and he was trying to play therapist.  It just suddenly got on my nerves. I kind of rejected his hug but he refused to let go and I started crying.

I was a mess, crying and almost thrashing, but he didn’t let me go. I haven’t seen him since. I still feel embarrassed about seeing him again, but he acted normal the next day, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and meet him today. I think I cried for a while before I fell asleep.

I really hope he doesn’t bring it up. I don’t have any answers for him. I can’t even cancel. He’ll know if I’m avoiding him.

He’s too perceptive sometimes.

Caleb takes a shuddering breath.  

He’s sitting on his bed, his fingers involuntarily tracing the letters on the page when he hears his shrill doorbell ring.

Who…? Certainly, nobody from work would dare to show up to his house. Besides, not a lot of others knew where he lived. Which left… Caleb crossed the hall, bare feet on the cold floor, as he opened the door only to feel his heart kick up to see you, standing at his doorstep.

“Caleb!”, you cheer excitedly, opening your arms up for a hug.

“Pip…squeak?”, his arms curl around your shoulders, but his voice betrays the questions in his mind. “What are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t come to see you?”, you ask, cheerfully, as he drags you in to shut the door.

“You…came from Linkon…to see me?” Caleb can’t believe it. Sure, he had done the same thing a few weeks ago, but to think you’d do that for him…

“Yeah! I have tomorrow off, so as soon as I got off work, I booked an evening ticket and here I am”, you explain simply, as if it were that easy. Caleb notices the little backpack you’re carrying, and his heart thumps in his chest.

You really came to Skyhaven for him. To spend one day, your day off, with him.

“Well then, welcome”, he says quickly. He’s good at pretending, after all. His smile is back on his face, even though his heart is doing a funny combination in his chest.

Over dinner he watches you eat, his heart squeezing painfully at the thought of a day when you couldn’t, because of him. When you take a shower, he hides the diary quickly, wondering how he had forgotten it on his bed, but that was what you did to him.

Left him off guard, off kilter.

“Do you have face moisturizer Caleb?”, your voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Yeah”, he hands it over, unable to keep his eyes from trailing over you as you rub the lotion into your neck.

His body moves involuntarily as he pats your hair against the towel. The gentle scent of his shampoo on you hits his nose, and he has to keep something at bay, to tamper down what suddenly threatens to flow over. “What are you…?”

“Drying your hair, obviously”, he replies. His voice sounds rough. He clears his throat.

His mind wanders when he’s finally lying down. You’d spent hours talking, playing Kitty Cards, before your eyes had started to droop. “Time for bed, sleepyhead”, he had said squishing your cheeks, before setting up the guest bedroom.

He turns over once. Sleep evades him. He walks to the kitchen for a drink of cold water. He stares at the night sky. He debates with himself. He shouldn’t, really. Besides, you’d be asleep. His feet still carry him to the edge of the bed you’re lying in, before he places a hand on your head, gentle, light.

You don’t move. You hope your measured breaths speak for you. He waits. Watches as the quiet moonlights kisses your skin. He turns away. You reach out to grab his hand before you remember sleeping people don’t do that. “Can’t sleep?”, you ask. Caleb shakes his head.

“Lie here with me?”

Who is he to deny you that? Who is Caleb to deny you anything, really.

So, he does. He lies down, keeping his distance, trying to ignore how every minute seems to add to the water threatening to spill over like an overfilled dam straining at the seams.

But you shuffle and press yourself closer to him and he lets himself a little reprieve to preserve his sanity as he reaches an arm out to encircle your waist. Your hand on his nearly makes his heart still.

X

Dear Diary,

Nobody makes me madder than Sylus. Every word he speaks is smug. Every deal he proposes is suspicious. The other week I had to attend a dinner because of this businessman I met and he seemed suitable enough to go with, so I asked him. He was every bit smug the entire evening. “Am I too much sweetie?” “Am I stealing the spotlight darling?” His ten-thousand-dollar laugh doesn’t help either. By the time it was time to go home, I was done. The dress I had ended up picking wasn’t great either. It was beautiful, but it made my skin itch.

I was going to head home but Sylus insisted I ‘owed him’ and drove us to the Onichynus base instead. It’s a long story. He wanted my input for a heist that involved stealing a code from a businessman. Usually, Sylus uses power, not stealth, but he needed to stay hidden, hence my help.

I didn’t have an answer. Every option I ran through in my head felt like it put him in too much danger. It had to be him too. He had to go there himself. It wouldn’t do if he sent any of his men. I don’t think I can trust my decisions with matters of stealth like that. I used to, some time ago, when I was a fresh hunter. One’s trust in oneself is an important part in stealth operations. But recently, I find myself questioning everything.

If I had kept talking to Caleb that day, maybe he wouldn’t have entered the house at all. Maybe he wouldn’t have died. Maybe if I hadn’t left the house at all, it wouldn’t been me too. I wouldn’t mind it honestly. I can’t help but run the possibilities of how things could’ve gone differently over and over again. It’s endless.

I didn’t have an answer for Sylus. “Trust yourself”, he told me. I don’t.

Eventually he stared at me for long and then gave up. Thankfully, I didn’t cry like a baby this time. I would’ve avoided him for a month out of embarrassment if I did, actually. But he didn’t seem to notice. He just insisted the N109 streets were too dangerous to drive home and I should stay at his place for the night, so I did. I was too tired to argue. We even had hot chocolate.

Caleb holds the page between his fingers. Surely, Sylus noticed. He feels his anger dissipate a little, an aching pain filling the gap instead. He had been there for you. When Caleb hadn’t been. Not beside you, when you needed him.

He swallows once.

Caleb turns the remaining pages absently, his heart thumping in his ears. His mind goes back to the man’s red eyes, his smile when you had been behind the camera.

He realizes he didn’t even have the right to be angry.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair.

X

Running is Caleb’s way of starting the day.

When his body wakes up before his mind. Truth is, his mind hadn’t felt very awake even when the sun is at its peak in the sky. He had done his best to keep it going. His routine. His carefully balanced system of pretense and silence. Silence in which he would either think of you, or call you, or sit. When he sat, he felt guilty.

So, he didn’t. He filled the time with more missions. More fleet mergers. More people pissed off. He could deal with enemies, enemies weren’t new.

He couldn’t deal with silence.

He couldn’t deal with you.

Because slowly your words had darkened the image he saw in his head. The cheerful one; you with the same fight and enthusiasm as when you were little. Every time he saw your face on a call, his brain moved a little slower, taking another path of worry, even when you were right there, in front of him. His mind kept wanting to inspect closer for any cracks, wanting to ask if you were okay, because now he knew that if you weren’t, you wouldn’t go to him.

You’d go to Rafayel, or Sylus, or Zayne or Xavier. Certainly better options than him.

It was destroying him more than he knew.

The running wasn’t working.

X

Dear Diary,

I didn’t go to work today. Even after a day off, I felt terrible. I woke up in the morning and nearly cried at the thought of having to get up. it’s like falling down on ice. Once you fall, you want to keep sitting there because you won’t fall further. I slept till 2pm and then I only woke up to drink water before I slept for another four hours. I woke up after the sun set. Xavier texted me asking if I was okay, but that was at 11am and I was just too embarrassed to text him back by the time I saw his text, so I just ignored it. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he knocked on my bedroom door some time later. I was just in bed, scrolling on some random videos and he had just let himself in.

I hated him seeing me like this. I hadn’t even brushed my teeth or taken a shower. My hair was a mess. The worst part is, he asked me if I was sick and I couldn’t even make up a lie quick enough. I was just having an off day, I told him. Kind of like when he sleeps for 28 hours at a stretch.

He had brought over takeout, and out of embarrassment I brushed my teeth and washed my face as he set it up. Xavier pretended not to notice but I’m sure he thinks I’m coming down with something. I shouldn’t have given him my apartment passkey. Now I can’t even bedrot in peace.  

He told me about this new book he’s reading and I said I’d read it soon, but to be honest idk when I will. I don’t have the patience to read a book these days.

The next entry has a time skip of three months.

Dear Diary,

I think the thing that hurts the most is feeling like we have time. We always had time. And then we didn't. I wonder what he’d do if it had been me.

I never got to tell him I love him.

I will always regret that.

The diary ends abruptly after that. Caleb turns the pages in a panic before he sees a few more words after a few blank pages.

Dear Caleb,

In therapy, they talk about a 'normal grief reaction' but I don't understand what makes it normal. My best friend is gone. The one I love is gone. He didn't know I loved him.

I don't understand how they don't see that.

I saw a boy flying a paper plane today and for a second, I thought, we should do that when I see you. Before I remembered.

I hate to think that it was such an ordinary day. A quiet day which will forever divide my life into a before and after. Into a with and a without. I hate that nothing stopped, everything went on as usual. There just was and then there wasn’t.

I hate that I have to remember and talk about you instead of talking to you. In the middle of all the chaos, with Tara and Simone and Andrew, every time I eat apple pie, every time I see an airplane fly, I think of you.

I still send messages to your number, and I still confess to the sky.

I'm hoping the airplanes will carry my wishes to you, and my thoughts and ideas, unlike those traitorous shooting stars we saw once. Because they didn’t keep my wish.

Yours,

Y/N

X

It is a quiet sunny day when the birds chirp like they did all those years ago, when Caleb slips the notebook back into the dark brown drawer where he had found it, two months ago.

X

He disappears into the Deepspace Tunnel. Work was a mask, it was a shield, it was a cover for so many things that he didn’t know where to put down and how to hold. Maybe, he should never have picked up that book. Because the last time he had spent at your place, he had found a ball in his throat every few minutes to the point where you had noticed.

He should probably do something. Say something. He doesn’t know where to start.

He can’t help but check his phone as soon as he’s landed, though. Texts flood his phone.

MC: Wow, you left again!! Without telling me!

MC: Caleb when I catch you, Caleb!

MC: text me when back

He laughs.

Caleb: guess who's back. Just landed ttyl

He barely makes it to his office before his phone is ringing. Video call. He picks it up, because there is no world in which he wouldn’t.

“HOW DARE YOU!!”

Oh no. “I told you I was going to go back to Skyhaven?”

“Yeah, I assumed for some daily job things?? You didn’t say you were going into the tunnel!”

“Well, plans changed a bit pipsqueak”

Pipsqueak simply shook her head disappointedly before she got closer to the camera. “What’s that on your face? Are you hurt?”

Caleb winces. Of course she would notice. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch”. It had been a rough tumble the ship had taken that had rammed his face into the controls, but it had been healing. He was almost hoping she wouldn’t see.

“Well, does the brilliant hunter have some time for me?”, he quickly moves the conversation forward.

You roll your eyes. “When are you getting here?”

“If I take a taxi in an hour, it should be six hours”

“Now?? Didn’t you just land?”

“Yup”, he grins, “See you soon”

Rain envelopes the long road to Linkon. He’s missed the last train, he knew he would. Caleb sleeps fitfully, his eyes occasionally opening to trail the drops of water racing down the glass windows. He arrives at night.

You welcome him joyfully, but don’t miss the dark circles that somehow seem to have got deeper. He hardly eats before he’s out like a light on the couch.

Outside, thunder rumbles.

You leave him a cute little note before going to work the next day.

‘Rest. If you cook anything, I’ll kill u♡’

At work, you rush through the paperwork like being chased by wild dogs, and you rip Xavier away from his desk to go fight that Wanderer, before clocking out.

The rain doesn’t let up. You do a quick grocery run before heading back home, hoping Caleb has taken your advice. You find him on your bed, arm over his head, headphones in. You check to see if he has a fever. Caleb jerks awake at that, startling you in turn. “H-Hey”

“Pipsqueak!”

“You weren’t sleeping?”

Caleb scratches his neck, “I’m…not sure. I think I was? Especially since you threatened me so nicely”, he adds, smiling mischievously.

“You needed the rest. You looked like shit yesterday”

He puts an offended hand on his chest. “Wow, so subtle”

You laugh before you sit down on the bed beside him. “Let’s eat dinner and then watch a movie?”

You do the cooking this time, Caleb helps. He narrates stories from here and there as he does it. You sneak peeks of him from years ago, but you don’t say it. He steals ingredients to be annoying on purpose. “I’m just trying to be your sous chef, pipsqueak. Isn’t this what you always do?”. You laugh. He stares.

He looks away, because if he doesn’t, he feels like his chest is caving in.

Before long, you’re both settled in comfortably for a movie.

It turns out to be a complex thriller with a group of friends escaping death and betraying each other to survive. The real jumpscare happens when the lights go out with a loud flash. You and Caleb stare at each other. “Did it just…?”

A flash of lightning hits threateningly. “Yup, I think so”, you confirm checking your phone. “There’s a rain warning”

“Damn”

Caleb lies back against the headboard, stretching his legs.

You two sit in the dark, the occasional lightning flashing across your face before it dawns on him that you don’t flinch anymore. He sits up straighter.

“What?”

“You’re not scared?”

A small laugh escapes you. “I’m not ten anymore”

Something hurts. He thinks it’s his heart. No, you’re not.

You realize the words stung. Because you move closer to him, resting against his side. His arms wrap around your waist.

He wasn’t there to see it happen. When you stopped being a kid. When you stopped needing him.

My best friend is gone.

He shouldn’t, but he thinks you’re gone too, in a way. You’re a different person now. While he’s the same. Stuck, waiting, only somehow, worse. But he was destined to love every version of you. That was who he was. Caleb, in love with her.

The one I love is gone.

Caleb thinks of the things he’s seen you love. A little plant you grew for a school project. A puppy you fed every day. Ice candies in summer. He remembers how you cried when the plant began to wilt, and how you aggressively nursed it back to health. He thinks of your love-struck happy smile when your fingers brushed the puppy’s brown soft fur. He sees the gentle way you handled the things you loved in his mind’s eye. Not like they were fragile, but precious. He tries to think of being among those things. He doesn’t see it. Can’t picture it. There’s no way he could be loved by you. There’s no way he could forgive himself, either.

He didn’t know I loved him.

His hands wrap around your waist, tighter. Please, he prays. Please understand how I feel. Because I know I don’t deserve to. And I still do.

He knows it hadn’t been easy. But seeing, knowing, had changed the way he felt the guilt. And right now, it was curling around his heart making every beat feel like it was a mistake. He blinks his eyes, trying to well away the tears he feels rising.

I still send messages to your number.

He can’t keep them in. His vision swims as a thin layer of water pools at the bottom of his eyeball, threatening to spill.

"I'm sorry…”, he whispers, because he is. He’s never been sorrier.

This is pathetic.

He’s pathetic.  

You turn to face him.

“I'm so sorry...for everything.”

Your eyes widen in question. What was happening?

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” The Caleb from your childhood didn’t cry. Neither did the one who came back. Caleb just didn’t cry. At all.

"For going away...for coming back...for putting you through so much… for still wanting…”

Your hands cup his sharp jaw as his words ramble out of him in bursts, your concern growing exponentially. “Caleb…you’re not making much sense”

A singular tear runs down the inner corner of his eye, past his nose and down to his lips.

“I’m sorry…”, he whispers again, his breath stuttering as he inhales, trying to calm himself, but only making it worse. The tears flood his eyes now, as he cries. You swipe your fingers delicately on his face and shush him. “It’s okay”, you whisper quietly, unsure of what’s happening.

But he’s crying, and your heart is breaking because he’s crying. Caleb doesn’t cry. Something must be seriously wrong for him to be crying. You hug him to your chest and his hands wrap around your waist, as he sobs.

You sit like that for a while, patting his back while the raindrops hit your window outside.

“I know I hurt you…when I died… and I’m so sorry”, he manages. His voice cracks a little.

Understanding dawns on you.

“You’re back now. And…” ‘We should forget it’, didn’t seem appropriate. “we’re going to be okay”, you assure him.

“I read your diary”

What? You freeze, and you feel he does too. You let go of him, but he only holds on tighter, burying his face deeper, avoiding eye contact. “What? When? Caleb what”

“The day I was looking for that birthday card…I just came across it and I…”, he shakes. "I feel...I felt so far away...like no matter what I did, I couldn't ever be the Caleb that you needed. I needed to know you...”

Your heart softens, despite his actions. You should be angry. You should be furious.

And yet the anger doesn’t seem to come.

“Caleb…you know me, I’m”. I’m yours, your mind offered, but you couldn’t say that. He doesn’t wait for your response.

“It’s okay if you hate me, you deserve to, I’m…” Disgusting. He had seen the look in your eyes, once, back in Skyhaven when he had you on house arrest, even if you hadn’t said the words.

“I'm sorry that I still…"

What...?

“I still...want...I think of you..."

He takes a deep breath.

"I want...", he whispers.

Thoughts rush through your head at his words. You push him out of the embrace to look at his eyes. 

“I want you to know that…”, he begins. His voice is quiet, "You don't have to confess to the sky anymore."

Time seems to stop as you take his words in.

So, he knows.

He knows.

The one I love knows, that I love him.

You lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss. He knows, he knows, he knows. Caleb lets out a quiet noise of surprise before fresh tears flood his eyes and his arms tighten back around your waist. He kisses you, tenderly, gently, like he wants to, like he needs to, worship.

You taste the salt on his lips and lick it off. “Don’t cry”, you say, even if you feel the tears running down your face too.

“I love you”, he whispers when you’re both panting for breath, wet faces resting against each other’s, refusing to let go. “I love you. I’m sorry I…”

“I love you, Caleb.” And then, “You’re here. I’m here, you’re okay”

Caleb shudders against your skin before he gasps in air as if he had been held underwater. Maybe he had been, in a way. He had been running, drowning, hiding.

“We’re okay”, you whispered again, even if your breath stuttered too.

Your hands grasp at his neck, pressing him closer, needing to tell, needing to show. His hand trails lower before it fits below your thigh, perfectly.

A second later, you’re in his lap. Closer. You needed to be closer to him.

You show him how you love him. You make sure he knows. The dam bursts. Caleb doesn’t hold back. He lets the emotions flow.

There had been a before. And it had been complicated. Twisted. Held back. Repressed.

But when dawn arrives, you’re sure this is the after that you’re going to bask in for the rest of your life.

gimme all your thoughts and comments

[softaestluv]

Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem! Reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3 (of 4), Ao3

You twirled.

Of course you did.

You took Simon’s hand, held it above your head, and slowly spun around; a low whistle leaving his lips in appreciation.

His grip tightened on your fingers when your back faced him, stopped your movements dead in their tracks. Kept you in place, ass arched for his viewing consumption. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heartbeat drowning in your ears, hands clammy against his, inhaling shallow breaths like you had just gotten back from a run.

Except you hadn’t.

You were just showing your ass off to your mechanic. Your dirty mechanic. Filthy mechanic.

And it left your underwear a sticky mess, cotton fabric molded to your aching pussy in anticipation. He could bend you over the hood of your pick up right then and there, hitch the fabric of your pencil skirt over your hip, show off your glistening pussy, and slide right in with no resistance.

You would take it— god, would you take it.

Let Johnny see the whole thing, wouldn’t really care if he did because you would be too distracted with Simon’s dirty hands, filthy cock and balls, pungent sweat staining your body. Ruining your pretty flesh, clean and pristine, freshly washed just for him, shaved just for him.

Give him such a pretty and warm cunt to ruin, taint with his grime.

Except he didn’t, and you weren’t one to beg.

Just let him twirl you around until you faced him again, eyes dilated, pools of his irises settling dark. A better image than you; you were sure.

Left it at that, drove home with an unnecessary oil change and panties clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Laid in bed with an insistent craving, an unbound fever that ruptured, seeped out of your control, and lead to the front steps of Simon’s dinky shop. Suffocated you to your wits end; a hunger that demanded more. More than two slender fingers attached to your wrist.

So, you sought out more.

The time in between felt endless. You spent the days hoping your shitty pick-up would break down, the engine light would come on, your tire would go flat. Any excuse to see him again, but your lemon of a truck suddenly decided it didn’t have any problems, wasn’t a nuisance in your daily life.

You were so close to sabotaging your own vehicle, slashing a tire yourself, fucking up the engine on purpose. But you weren’t that desperate— yet.

You would have to bite the bullet. Bury it deep in your mouth, crack your molars against the lead, claim it as your own, and show up at the foot of his shop with minuscule problems. But by some miracle, Simon didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he melted the bullet into rubber, made the bite chewable.

Your air con’s not workin’? No worries, sweet’art, just needs some coolant and a new filter. Wouldn’t want ya melting in this heat, would we?

Yeah, you nodded weakly, yeah, we wouldn’t want your core to burn, pulse in agony, trail molten lava against the curve of your back, would we now?

Need me to rotate your tires? Easy ‘nough, and when’s the last time you replaced ‘em? Don’t worry, I’ll get some ordered to the shop, have ya sorted in no time. Can’t be drivin’ round with no traction, ‘t’s dangerous, pretty bird.

Headlight’s gone, is it? Simple fix, won’t take more than a few minutes. Go on, take a seat in my office, yeah? Glad you brought it to me— wanna make sure you’re safe, after all.

Pay him? What are you on about? Don’t even think about it. These are easy fixes— no need to worry, sweet’art. He’s just takin’ care of ya, that’s all.

Maybe it was a bit pathetic, a little out of sorts for your character, but if he wouldn’t accept your money, you would pay him back in other ways. A shirt that was a little too deep, a skirt that was a little too tight, heels that were a little too obnoxious. Never all at once, you had a little more dignity than that.

It was the same routine each time; a weak excuse to park in his service drive, then he would order you to sit in his office. To which you always did, obediently, more than content to watch him from the solitary confines of his office when Johnny wasn’t there. And when he was done, you would try to negotiate a payment, but all he would accept was a twirl.

Maybe it should’ve made you feel like an object. Objectified, paying for a fucking air filter with a sway of your hips, but it doesn’t. You can’t even describe how much you like it, can’t even explain why you do.

You just do.

In an excruciating way, everything you can’t say by words, too much and absolutely not enough at the same time. Painfully embarrassing from the way it leaves you a shaking mess, how it dampens your panties— soaks them through.

The day he places his free hand on your waist when you twirl, using his large palm on your hip to stop your spin instead of tightening his fingers in your grasps your knees almost buckle under you. A quiet gasp leaving your lips in surprise, squeezing his fingers tightly.

You think you might be imagining it, that your hopes had become so grandiose that it conjured the feeling, until it moves.

A rugged hand, scarred and calloused sweeps up in one careful motion. It sends shivers over your spine, jolting straight. But it’s gone as soon as it’s there, facing him once again as if he wasn’t carving the shape of your hip seconds ago.

When you stumble back to your truck, your stomach twists when there isn’t a grease stained imprint of his palm on your shirt, no remnant of his touch.

That becomes the new step in the routine. You should hate it, but you fucking love it. Like it’s a reward for sitting so calmly when your body is waging a war on the inside. A gentle pet against soft flesh to accommodate the few minutes you sat hot and bothered, untouched.

You think about his heavy hand grazing your figure any chance you get, stings and weeps in the absence of his touch, the lack of his dominant eyes.

You try to convince yourself that’s enough, that he would’ve asked you by now if he wanted more than fleeting glances and featherlight touches. That was before your truck broke down one day. You had been hoping, manifesting for your engine light to flick on, but not like this. On the side of a small country road, sun setting behind you, dirt flying around you on a Saturday night.

You should probably call a tow truck instead of Simon, but you don’t. You don’t entirely want an expensive bill to pay. Maybe you’re a little spoiled by his free services at this point, but he answers the phone in seconds, tells you he’s on the way within the same breath.

When his work truck pulls up beside you, and he steps out, you think your lungs collapse in your chest. You’re used to mechanic Simon, uniform soiled in sweat, reeking of a days of work.

Now, a clean Simon? It practically sends you over the edge, stumbling forward, stuttering over your words.

A black leather jacket and a white shirt covers his broad chest, blue jeans framing his long legs. His hair lays flat, damp, like he just got out of the shower; it makes you feel guilty, like you interrupted his private time. Not guilty enough that it stops your panties from soaking through when he gets real close and you can smell his body wash on him, mossy forest, redwoods.

“You okay, bird?” He asks, palm finding your waist in concern.

It’s practically out of a movie scene; it’s almost comical, but you feel like doing anything but laughing. Pressing your thighs together instead, trying to regulate your breaths so you’re not panting in his face like a dog.

You nod aimlessly, staring up at him with wide eyes, hoping that it was the correct response because you hadn’t really comprehended what he asked you. All you can focus on is the shape of his hand on your waist, fucking massive, thick and warm. His clean skin, free of all sticky and dark stains you’ve begun to associate with him, shaving cream wafting off of his smooth jaw.

“Le’s get ya in my truck, yeah?” He continues, voice firm and rich.

He guides you to his truck, opens the passenger door for you, just like you’re sure he would on a date. All cleaned up and a gentleman, a picture from your fantasies. And just like you do at his shop, you watch him hitch your truck to his through the rear view mirror. Admiring the way his wide back stretches the leather material taut.

When he gets in the driver seat you’re all strained voice and nervous laughter. The fabric of his seats smells like the Simon your used to, car oil and musk, but he smells like a shower and his cologne, woody and pine. You barely have the strength to listen to what he’s telling you, explaining that he can’t work on your truck tonight, that he’s busy, so all he can do is drop it off at the shop and drive you home when the combined scent is intoxicating.

You think about inviting him in, drenching your sheets in his clean scent when he walks you to your front door, but you don’t, can’t when he’s busy. He’s apologizing, you know that much, mumbling his sorry’s because he can’t fix the problem that night, but you don’t mind; it’s just another excuse to see him tomorrow, even if you’re shit out of a vehicle.

Can’t find it in yourself to care about anything else when your back is pressed against your door, trapped between the wood and his hulking frame.

“Goin’ to the pub with the lads, would ditch ‘em to help, but Johnny’d never let me hear the end of it.” He explains, tucking his hands into his leather jacket.

You smile with a shake of your head, “No, no it’s okay.”

“Gonna need a ride to work in the mornin’?” He asks.

“Are you offering to take me?” You lilt, tilting your head teasingly.

“Course I am.” He says so matter-of-factly, like it doesn’t make sense for him not to.

“Then, yes,” You agree, leaning forward on your tippy toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, Simon.”

It’s supposed to be a sweet moment, a tease of your feelings, warm and soft. Everything and more you could pay him with for his services, but he has your jaw cupped in seconds, lunging forward to capture your lips in his, your head knocking against the door from the sheer force. You gasp, fingers hooking into the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly in your grasps.

It’s harsh, fierce. All clashing teeth and bumping noses, exactly how you pictured a man like him would kiss. Bruising the shape of his lips on your mouth, branding them red and swollen between his teeth.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, destroying your modesty on your porch for all your neighbors to see, but it doesn’t seem long enough. He tastes like toothpaste, minty and sweet, a little like aftershave. You lick the taste fucking clean from his lips, clawing at his chest, panting into his mouth for more, more, more.

Johnny can fucking wait.

But he pulls away anyways, a pathetic protest spilling from your lips as you cling to him; you’re not ready to lose the sensation of his lips yet.

“Easy there, baby.”

God.

It’s a bit embarrassing the way your eyes flutter at the word, the way he has to ease you off your tippy toes, coax you back down. Opening your door for you as you stand there a little dumbfounded after a searing kiss.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?”

He leaves you at that like he didn’t just tilt your world on its axis, lips throbbing in his wake, skin still pulsing where he gripped your face, thick arousal pooling in your panties— your fingers definitely aren’t going to be enough tonight.

masterlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

[dearestval]

𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 — ayato

notes: no specific gender, reader is implied to be part of inazuma nobility, mainly ayato's pot you get so much inner monologue here he really does think a lot, I don't really know how to end fics so if you have a complaint I don't want to hear it lol, also did I go back to edit and revise this? no don’t tell my students

happy birthday to my love, my dearest, ayato

Ayato likes to say that he’s above gossiping. That he doesn’t concern himself with any rumors swirling amongst the Inazuman nobility. After all, most of it is hearsay anyways— why indulge in it? He holds a bit of pride in himself knowing he would never fall victim to baseless rumors and doesn’t get swept away like the other nobles around him.

Of course, those closest to him don’t miss the way he seems to shift in his seat whenever he hears someone in his vicinity gossiping. He’s subtle about it too– but to the trained eye it's obvious how he slightly leans back in his chair to catch the latest chatter from the ladies sitting at the table behind him. Or how he’ll quietly thumb at the pages of a ledger to not attract attention to the two businessmen nearby as they discuss the recent hearsay. All to keep appearances up.

Which makes it all the more amusing for those around Ayato to witness him parading from person to person, asking what they know about this latest rumor that came to his attention.

Because this time, the rumors are about you. Specifically, that you are getting engaged to some noble. Ayato doesn’t have any more information about this– who this noble is, the circumstances of the engagement, or even if the engagement is true to begin with. All he knows is that your name is tied to it.

This is ridiculous, Ayato thinks to himself as he finally gives up the interrogations, retreating to his study to overthink things. As your friend, your best friend, he would have known if you were in a relationship, right? Of course, now that he thinks about it, the two of you have never seriously broached the topic of love or anything of that matter. So maybe there was cause for you to be privy on such a detail of your life. Or perhaps this was an arranged marriage type of engagement and was suddenly sprung upon you. There were still some families in Inazuma that still employed these practices, though he would have never guessed your family would be one of them. Still, as much as Ayato would love to deny it, it’s not entirely impossible for you to be engaged. And that’s clearly a problem– though Ayato isn’t exactly sure why.

Ayato slumps further into his chair, a sight unbecoming of someone of his status, but even he is human and can’t help it. The more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself confused by these swirling emotions inside him. Why would it even matter to him if you were engaged? You would probably still find the time to bother him any time you had a single thought like you always did. He doubts that you would cease to bother him to try out a new food vendor that you spotted while taking a stroll through Inazuma City. You would be the same person and do the same things. He was your best friend, and you were his. Nothing would change at all.

There's a pause in his mind for a moment as that thought lingered. The thought of nothing changing between the two of you causes him to feel unpleasant. Again, he’s not sure why. That should be a good thing. To always remain friends for the rest of your lives. Just friends. And nothing more.

Finally, his head catches up to his heart.

Ayato is hopelessly in love with you.

He manages to scramble up out of his slump as this revelation comes to light, his heart beating slightly faster now. 

It seems almost absurd to him that he’s only realizing now the extent his feelings go for you but in his defense, feelings can be hard to navigate. So he allows himself some leeway. He knows that he’s liked you for a long time now– but he can’t be sure when it shifted from platonic to romantic. He begins combing through his memories, searching for the one particular moment that would showcase when he started seeing you in a different light. But as he does so, he finds his cheeks getting warmer with each passing thought of you.

Ayato buries his face into his hands, a chuckle of disbelief slipping from his lips. Perhaps the answer is simpler than that. If he had to guess, you probably found your way into his heart from the very beginning.

The pieces in front of him start to make sense. How else could he have explained the way his brain would short-circuit for a moment whenever you walked into a room. He would nearly fumble his words when seeing you from the corner of his eye, no matter how important the person he was talking to was. Before his epiphany, Ayato would chalk that up to you being distracting. In reality, all you had done was enter his vision and he would find his thoughts scrambled.

The more Ayato thinks about his newfound feelings for you, the clearer things become for him. There’s a lot to love about you. On the surface, you’re the type of person that anyone could easily fall for. But there’s more to you for him. He’s known you since you were both children, and you’ve consistently stood by his side. When he took over as the head of his clan and it seemed like everything was stacked against his favor, you offered him unconditional support. In the eyes of Inazuma, he’s revered as either the Yashiro Commissioner or Head of the Kamisato Clan. Yet around you, he’s just Ayato. He can let his shoulders slump a bit, foregoing the perfect posture he was taught to have at all times.

To Ayato, it just made sense that the two of you would end up together. There’s no one that gets him more than you do and vice versa. Which is why hearing about your supposed engagement feels like a slap in the face to him. 

He honestly might start spiraling— but three brief knocks on his door snaps him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he calls out, grateful at the mere thought of a distraction from his turmoil.

But when you pop your head through the door, he can’t tell whether it’s a blessing or a curse. Ayato stands from his seat, welcoming you in as his eyes take in every detail of you. Now that Ayato’s become aware of how he feels for you, it feels like all of his senses are in overdrive.

“Hey, hope I’m not bothering you!” You skip into his study, and he has to hope to the Archons he doesn’t keel over from how cute he thinks you are. Fortunately, he manages to keep his cool and smiles back at you, acting as if there wasn’t a maelstrom going on in his head.

“Would it make a difference if I said you were?”

You could never be a bother to Ayato. Even if he had a mountain of paperwork to go through, he’d set his time aside just for you– which now that he thinks about it is another obvious sign that he’s liked you.

“I suppose it wouldn’t,” you hum as you find your way towards him.

Ayato wastes no time asking the question that’s been plaguing him today.

“So… should I be congratulating you right about now?” he asks, his gaze falling to your hands. With the way they were positioned, he can’t tell if there’s a ring on your finger or not.

“Hm? For what– OH,” you laugh, and as it reaches Ayato’s ears he smiles at how lovely it sounds to him. It’s one he’s heard millions of times but now he can’t help but think that even the birds would envy how melodic your laugh is.

“No no no,” you say, shaking your head, “those rumors are definitely not true. I mean, my family is looking to make some kind of partnership with another clan, but they’re doing so without the need of a marriage.”

A wave of relief washes over Ayato. It wasn’t true. Admittedly, he probably should have already assumed that from the start. But today he finds that any sort of rationality has escaped him. 

“Don’t tell me you actually fell for them,” you tease, your lips curling into a knowing smile.

Ayato scoffs at you, though deep down he knows he’s not fooling anyone, least of all you.

“Of course not, who do you take me for–”

“Oh my Archons,” your laughter fills the air once more, “you totally thought they were true, don’t lie!”

Because yes, who would have thought that Ayato, the very man who likes to say he’s above gossiping, would fall victim to baseless rumors.

But what would happen if the rumors were true? Would Ayato be able to put on a fake smile for you and keep his feelings at bay? He looks at you, now distracted by the view of camellias outside his study, and his gaze softens.

He calls out your name softly, and there’s a small part of him that wishes you don’t hear him.

You turn towards him, tilting your head ever so slightly as you look up at him. It makes his heart beat all the more faster. You’re not deliberately trying to look endearing in front of him, you just are. And it drives him crazy.

“What? Finally going to admit that you fell for the rumors?”

“Fine, fine,” Ayato relents, “Perhaps I was curious about the veracity of those rumors.”

Ayato really should keep his mouth shut like he always does. But his mouth moves faster than his brain can process it.

“And I’m incredibly glad they’re not.” His words are soft spoken, killing the previously lighthearted atmosphere that you brought in As the silence settles in the room, it’s clear the ambience has shifted.

He brings his hand up to softly caress your cheek, and it feels so right to him.

“God, you don’t really understand the effect you have on me, do you?” his voice is barely above a whisper. He takes in every expression you make– the surprise, the confusion, all of it.

“Did you know,” he continues, “that everytime I’m engaged in an important conversation, I pray to Celestia that you don’t enter my line of sight because the moment you do all of my thoughts go to you.”

He finds himself unable to stop, and truthfully, he doesn’t want to.

“You occupy my mind constantly– I don’t think there’s a day that goes by where I’m not thinking about you,” he pauses, another small realization dawning on him, “perhaps the many times I’ve been called out for being lost in deep thought were moments where you monopolized the entirety of my attention.”

It took him too long to realize he loved you– he’s not going to waste any more time on telling you.

“So please tell me,” Ayato sighs, resting his forehead on yours, “tell me I’m not the only one who’s harbored feelings in this friendship.”

You’re stunned into silence.

Ayato doesn’t know what to make of it. He knows you like the back of his hand but right now he doesn’t even know how to read your expression. You’re shocked for sure– he knows that much.

It would be best for him to wait for some response from you, to let you process this new revelation.

But once again he throws all thought and rationality out the window.

“What about one percent?” he asks, a little bit too desperate for his liking.

“Because,” he continues, a light chuckle spilling from his lips, “even if your heart is only one percent in my favor, then I will hold onto that for all that I have.”

That was a lie. Even if you didn’t have any inkling of fondness for him back, he would be okay with that. He would wait forever for you, even if that day never comes. When he looks at you, he can see your gaze shift, the confusion slowly dissipating from your expression. Now before him he can see the soft look you have in your eyes, the same one that you always held for him.

“It’s definitely more than one percent…” you softly murmur.

Suddenly, Ayato understands all of the cheesy metaphors people use when they talk about love. His heart is doing backflips, he can hear every single bird singing in his ears, and there are far too many butterflies in his stomach. There’s a soft conviction in your words, it makes him wonder if you’ve also had these feelings for as long as him but he’s been too oblivious to notice.

Though that question can be answered at a later time.

For now, and hopefully forever, he has you.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

THE SHRINK

THOMAS SHELBY X FEM!READER

synopsis : After constant pressure from Polly, Tommy finally gives in and goes to see a therapist … though he’s not happy about it.

A/N : idk what to think of this ☹️ english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes

"GO SEE HER, THOMAS. YOU NEED HELP."

The hell he did.

Thomas Shelby didn’t need a fucking shrink.

He didn’t need some doctor picking apart his brain like it was a puzzle missing half its pieces. He had his own cure, neatly tucked beside his bed, waiting for him every night.

A pipe. A flame. A breath. Oblivion.

It was faster. Easier. It made him forget. And it sure as hell didn’t cost him a fortune just to hear some fool tell him what he already knew.

Opium simply didn’t ask questions. It didn’t tell him he was broken. It just worked.

But Polly had a way of getting what she wanted. And when she threatened to take her complaints straight to Campbell ( about the guns, about everything ) he realized she wasn’t bluffing.

So fine. One session. That’s it. No more.

Here he was. Not because he believed in this. Not because he wanted to be here.

But because he had no fucking choice.

And that’s how he ended up here.

The room smelled of roses, wood polish, and paper.

It was modest, no, functional. Homey, too.

Not luxurious, but not rundown either.

The kind of place meant to put a man at ease without making him comfortable. The walls were lined with books, the sort of titles Thomas Shelby had no patience for.

A neat desk sat in front of a window, its surface practically empty, save for a lamp and a single stack of papers. In the center of the room, two red-cushioned chairs faced each other, positioned like opponents in a quiet war.

Tommy had been in rooms like this before.

Police stations. Intelligence offices. Places where men sat behind desks and asked questions they already knew the answers to. He didn’t trust this one either.

Even if Polly had sent him.

The woman sitting across from him was young to be telling people what was wrong with them.

He had expected someone older, sterner, with glasses perched on their nose, asking him about his deceased mother and cursed life.

Instead, you were composed, patient. Watching.

"Mr. Shelby," you greeted him.

He didn’t return the courtesy, just leaned back in the chair, one ankle resting over his knee. His cigarette sat between his fingers, unlit. He rolled it, eyes flicking across the room.

No clocks ticking, no visible crosses — nothing that would give away a bias.

"You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to," you said evenly.

He scoffed through his nose. "I don’t want to be here."

"Then why are you?"

He glanced at you properly now, eyes sharp, calculating. He could tell she already knew the answer.

"You know Polly," he said.

"Ah," you nodded, "so she insisted?"

"More like threatened." He exhaled slowly, shifting in the chair. "She’s been on about me talking to someone since we got back from France."

A pause.

He could see you weighing the information, deciding how to approach him.

"You did fight in France."

"Everybody did," he said flatly.

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you shifted slightly in your chair, crossing your legs, taking a notebook and pen.

"Did Polly say why she thought you needed to talk to someone?"

He smirked at that, shaking his head. "I imagine you could guess."

"I could," you admitted, "but I’d rather hear it from you."

He studied her now, properly.

He had met a lot of people who wanted to get inside his head; inspectors, lieutenants, officers who didn’t give a fuck about the men they sent to the trenches. But this one was different. You weren't prying.

Not yet.

She was waiting.

When he didn’t answer, you took a different approach.

"Most men who come back from war experience changes in their behavior," you said casually. "Some struggle with sleep. Some feel like they can’t slow down, like they have to keep moving. Some — "

"I sleep just fine," Tommy cut in.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

He didn’t respond.

Silence stretched between them.

And you let it.

He realized you weren't one of those people who filled the air with noise just to make the other person uncomfortable. You were fine with waiting.

He licked his lips, tapped his unlit cigarette against his knee.

"'Olright then," he said finally. "What do you want me to say?"

"It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need."

Another scoff. "I don’t need anything."

"I see." You tapped the pen lightly against the notebook, considering him. "Then let’s start simple. Since you’ve been back, what’s the most noticeable change in your life?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth, staring past her now, out the window.

The city had changed. Or maybe he had.

"Things are different," he admitted finally.

"How so?"

"Before we left, everything was... smaller. More predictable." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Now it’s like everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time."

"Too slow?" she echoed, intrigued.

"Nothing’s... loud enough." His fingers twitched slightly against the chair. "Not like it was over there."

You watched him closely. "You miss the noise?"

He turned to you then, fully, blue eyes sharp. "You think I do?"

"I don’t assume," you said simply. "But a lot of men who come back struggle with silence. It’s unnatural after years of war."

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well... it’s not just the noise."

He didn’t elaborate.

You nodded slightly, letting his words settle. "And the fast part?"

His jaw tensed. "People talk more. Ask more questions. Things that used to be simple aren’t anymore. Some days I wake up and it feels like I have to figure out how to do it all over again."

"How to do what?"

He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Be normal, I suppose."

Your expression softened slightly, but you didn’t let sympathy cloud your approach. "And what does normal look like for you?"

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose.

He should have expected that.

But he didn’t have an answer.

Normal was a house by the cut, Polly at the kitchen table sipping a cup of tea, Arthur throwing a punch to John in the yard, Ada rolling her eyes at both of them. Finn imitating them.

Normal was the factory, the pubs, the streets they grew up on.

Normal was before the war.

And that wasn’t coming back.

No, that was the past.

He shifted, looking at you with that guarded expression he always wore.

"Look," he said finally. "I get why Polly sent me here. But I’m not one of those men who needs fixing."

You studied him for a moment before responding. "I don’t think you’re broken."

That made him pause.

His fingers stopped rolling the cigarette.

You seemed confident, certain. No pity, no softness. Just ... truth.

For the first time in the whole session, he didn’t know what to say.

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze. "But I do think you’re trying to outrun something. And that only works for so long."

Tommy clenched his jaw. "You got all that from one session?"

You gave a small smile. "No, Mr. Shelby. I got that from the way you keep looking at the door."

Silence.

Then, Tommy exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. "Jesus."

He pushed himself up, straightening his coat. "I think that’s enough for today."

She didn’t try to stop him.

Just closed her notebook, standing as well.

"Will I see you next week?" she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just gave her one last look before heading to the door.

Right before stepping out, he paused.

Then, without turning back, he muttered, "Polly’ll make me."

And then he was gone.

part 2 ??? this is awful

[2neaky]

Black orchid & patchouli has been in the air ever since the bathroom door opened. Sure, it’s died down some. Yet, still, the source of the smell is present.

Just a foot or two away from him.

She’s in her own world, listening only to her thoughts. 

He knows.

He remembers when she told him that getting dressed is her favorite part of the day. It’s during that time she usually turns her brain off, and allows her body to move on autopilot.

It’s the perfect chance to just simply exist for her.

It’s very calming, he understands.

She looks so at peace as she moves. So lost in her own head that she never really realizes that he’s staring.

He always does.

She doesn’t even know that his favorite part of the day is watching her get ready.

Her limbs move with grace; A true vision when she drops her fluffy, white towel to the bed, baring her body to the privacy of this room.

Their bedroom.

When it comes to moisturizing, her routine is always the same: arms first, abdomen, legs, then feet. Being that they’re just reaching the end of winter, gourmand and cozy scents have her preference as of late.

The scent of today is different, however; light, floral, and warm.

He can’t quite catch the notes—maybe there’s a hint of pepper. But, it isn’t offending. Actually, it works just perfectly on her; an added bit of spice to her sweetness.

So entranced by the smell, he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been pondering on it. He’ll have to ask her about that one, he thinks as he recenters his focus.

She’s moved to her stomach, rubbing the body butter into her skin. Off-white slowly melts into warm brown skin as she takes her time to massage it in.

Her palms, flat against her body, keep going in circles. Circling, circling, circling her lower tummy—right below her navel. So tender, gently pressing into the relaxed muscles of her stomach.

The first thought that pops into his head: a baby. 

He almost laughs out loud, it’s so stupid. So ridiculous how such a simple act—his woman taking care of herself—can get him to think of something so intense. So life changing.

It’s scary, the idea of having a family of his own. But … with her? 

That alone settles him. 

If anyone has the potential to be the perfect mother, it’s her. He believes in her. So much.

“Terry?”

Her voice is pure silk. He almost doesn’t hear it.

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking up the small tub of body butter, she outstretches her hand to him. Its sparkling scent fills the air, it’s all he smells.

“Help me, please?”

He looks up from the swirled butter in the tub to warm brown eyes, staring back at him over a shoulder. 

Her back is presented to him. The divot of her spine runs down its middle, tailed by twin dimples at the small of her back.

Below the left dimple, closer to her hip rather than directly under it, is his name in scripted black ink: 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅. 

It’s so tiny, that his thumb covers it every time he holds her there.

And below that is an ass that he feels blessed to see every day. It sits up, the brown skin smooth and unmarred. She’s got subtle hip dips that give way to wide thighs, granting the prettiest pear-shape. 

He can hardly resist the urge to take a bite every time he sees her this way.

“You never ask me for help,” he smirks, scooting towards the bed’s edge to get closer.

“I know, but … I decided to be a little lazy today,” she smiles. 

And he loves when she does. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle up, adding a comforting sense of familiarity and warmth to the expression.

He feels lucky that’s it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep. That’s a smile he’d love for his child to see, growing up.

He’s not letting this one go, huh?

Wordlessly, he sets the tub down in his lap and scoops a dollop up with a finger. Spreading it over his palm, he then rubs both hands together. The smooth butter warms quickly in his hands.

He starts at her shoulder blades, dragging his hands down her skin. He’s careful, trying to mimic her tenderness. It comes so natural to her, evident in the way her body languidly moves. 

He wonders if she can tell that it isn’t the same for him? The pressure he applies is uneven—unsure. His hands move with the weight of his past, one of a former Marine.

Hands trained to be a weapon, now being used to massage lotion into the tender skin of his love.

They’ve been together for so long. These hands have touched every part of her body, more times than he can even think to count. He knows her body so well, yet still feels as though it’s a privilege that she’s allowed him to be apart of her regimen. Her favorite part of her day.

He takes more crème into his hands; this time his hands run down the spout of her spine, fingers molding to the contours of her body. He makes sure to get her sides, too. Can’t leave those dry.

Then he finally gets to the bottom. His fingers start at the small of her back before they slow spread out. His fingers curl ‘round the bones of her hips, thumbs massaging whatever’s left of the crème into her skin.

His hands do one last pass down her back, then he has to pull them away. 

Standing between his legs, she slowly spins, now presenting her front to him. He swallows. 

First, his eyes fall between her legs to fat lips thinly veiled by a trimmed bed of dark curls. Then, they slowly lift to the basin of her stomach, up her torso, through the valley of her breasts, and finally, to her round face.

A grateful smile is on her full lips, the apples of her cheeks lifted, too.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, still, yet in her eyes there’s contemplation. Her thoughts are rolling over in her head, he can tell. And that’s why he doesn’t pull away—only stays in place, waiting on her next few words.

“You can help me some more, if you want.”

This time, he’s the one smiling, though it’s nowhere near as innocent as hers. Without any objection, he dips a finger back in the tub of lotion and rubs some between his hands.

“Turn around,” he mumbles, matching her quiet volume. 

Each careful step she takes in turning her back to him makes her ass jiggle. And when it’s presented to him once again, he wastes no time making the wide surface shine.

Like a sculptor whose hands mold and shape the clay before them, he kneads the fat with a renewed sense of expertise. He makes sure to cover the fronts of her hips to the flanks of her ass. 

And when he gets those parts, his hands encase her hips and lays two, quick taps to the side of her left cheek. He lets himself smirk, watching the fat ripple.

“Turn around.”

She does it wordlessly, carefully raising her forearms to avoid hitting his head. When they face each other again, he pulls her in close by her waist. Letting temptation win, he presses a smooch right above her belly button.

“Terry,” she giggles.

Wordlessly, he smirks, more so to himself as he sets the tub of lotion to the side.

He gathers more crème onto his hands before they snake behind her, diving for the underside of her bottom. He’s taking his job serious, making sure to moisturize every crevice of skin hidden by a fold—he even lifts it if he has to.

So concentrated on the task, the gentle weight of hands on his shoulders slips by his notice. But, he does realize they’re there when her fingers press into his skin—just as he’s pulls her cheeks apart.

His head cranes up, finding those chocolate brown eyes lower than usual. Much less focused, too.

This time, when he does it again, he doesn’t look away. His fingers reach just a little further, the tips of them barely grazing between her cheeks. His grip gets a little tighter, too, and his hands pull them just a little bit further apart.

For a moment, he holds her open. As the warm air of the room hits her newly exposed parts, her hole clenches. Her pussy even flutters. The reactions her body makes are thoughtless.

And so is the movement of his hand when he swipes a middle finger up her crack, stopping it just over her puckered hole. 

He taps it once. Twice. 

The little thing winks beneath the pad of his finger. His gaze falls to the globes of fat he holds in his big hands. 

“When’s the last time we played back here?”

Shyness bleeds onto her face. She tries to hide it with a lifted shoulder, though the corners of her spreading lips can’t be concealed. 

“A while,” she mumbles.

The sweet sound of a hum made in agreement resounds. Circles of hazel flick upwards to meet her gaze again.

“Yeah … s’been a while, huh? You cleaned good?”

Her heart stammers behind her rib cage. It leaves her almost breathless. 

“Terry,” she warns.

His finger had never moved from that spot. It circles the taught skin. “What? You busy today?”

Her eyes flutter. One of her hands on his shoulders drops to his bicep, giving it a weak squeeze. “Y-yes.”

“Yes to both? And with what?”

As her mouth opens, her words get caught in her throat. That finger applies a soft pressure that sends her pussy into a frenzy.

“Yes, and g-groceries, Terry.” She had almost whined out.

“Aldis not going nowhere.” He smirks up at her.

She shivers, feeling that finger angling to press its tip right at her hole. “The—I don’t want t-to be there when it’s c-crowded.”

He half-shrugs with a clueless frown. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, which only makes him more determined. It seems he hasn’t fully convinced her to abandon her responsibilities, something he’s been too comfortable doing himself since he met her.

“Remember how wet you got last time?” He leans in closer, face just centimeters away from her pussy as he lowers his voice for her to only hear. “I didn’t even touch her.”

The corners of his mouth raise even higher as he looks into her eyes, seeing them glaze over in real-time as her brain replays the distant memory.

“All I did, was play with—“ His finger double-taps at her un-stretched hole again. “You made such a mess. You think you could do that again?”

She dismisses a whimper as she remembers how she felt like a leaking faucet that night. Beneath her, the sheet was a mess, soaked. Her thighs only trembled as her pussy dribbled, globs of slick rolling down its inner-sides.

Her breath hitches, feeling the rough pad of that finger slide back and forth over her. It’s like a splash of cold water, bringing her back to focus.

The gentle musk of her arousal hits his nose. It mixes deliciously with the scent of her crème.

“I’ll get the groceries this week.”

Her eyes almost cross as that finger presses harder against her hole.

“Just lemme do this.”

‘Yes’ and ‘no’ become a blur in her mind. She doesn’t even hear herself when she mumbles the one beginning with ‘y.’

She didn’t think twice about it when he told her to get on the bed, face down and ass to the sky. The position’s got her open and needy. While the water runs distantly in the background, her brain is fuzzy.

All it can do is conjure up thoughts of how far he’ll go this time. There’s only been one time she took his dick through the back, all other times it was his hand. 

She hopes they can turn that one time into two. The thought almost makes her drool into the pillow.

She doesn’t hear when the bathroom faucet squeaks as it’s closed. Or when Terry emerges from the bathroom, muttering about having to fix that later.

Just feet away from the bed, he admires the picture before him: a gift, all spread out and open for him.

“Now, ain’t you a sight?”

His voice brings her from her reverie. The only response she gives is to reach behind and pull those shiny, smooth cheeks apart to show him how her body yearns for his touch.

Both holes clench. Beads of slick glisten through the hair closest to the opening of her cunt.

He takes slow steps towards her. “Look at the mess I created.” He chuckles to himself, barely shaking his head. “Guess I gotta clean it up, huh?”

Dumbly, her face pressed to the sheets, she nods. 

When he’s finally behind her, his hands take their treasured spots over her hips—left thumb covering his name, as always.

“How should I clean it up, baby?”

Her eyes falls closed as she tries to focus on speaking her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“U-use your tongue, first.”

His face brightens with a toothy smile. “First? Oh, there’s more,” he laughs.

He can’t tell if it’s a hum or a moan she makes, maybe it’s both. But he does understand when she nods.

“Well how you want me to finish the job, when I’m done using my tongue?”

She can hear the amusement in his voice, the smirk on his lips. Quite frankly, she’s too horny to be timid about it.

“Your dick—“

He almost blanches at her boldness. But his shock gives way to a new wave of arousal.

“Want it, Terry,” she speaks breathlessly. “Wanna feel—“ she reaches back again to spread herself again. “—feel full.”

His fingers sink further into the fat of her hips as he gathers all the moisture he can in his mouth. There’s a quick shift of his jaw, then a bullet of spit shoots past his puckered lips and hits his target dead-center.

Her body twitches from the impact. “Oh…” she moans softly.

The translucent, bubbly glob of spit rolls over the tight ring, making it shine. It dribbles down further, slipping down the slide of her crack and finding its way into her shallow bed of curls.

He catches her pussy do a little flutter. The tiny reaction prompts him to lift a hand from a hip, only to slam it back down against her right cheek.

Her back bows inward, a quiet mewl coming from her.

“Yeaah, keep it just like that… Just like … that.”

She hadn’t even heard the shift of his body—only felt his soft, warm, velvety tongue lave against her hole.

A gasp—she almost inches forward before remembering not to run from such pleasure. Terry’s never liked that.

“Mmh…”

There’s a tenderness that spreads throughout her cunt as his hum provides a soft vibration for her. Every time her body bears down, there’s an ache in her core.

He laps against her one more time before pulling the taut skin into his mouth to suck on. There’s hardly any give, but he doesn’t stop. His hands keep her spread apart as he continues burying his face in her ass. 

Terry’s never been a man too scared to get messy, especially when it counts. And when it comes to his woman, trust that it counts.

Slobbing her down, his own spit coats the lower half of his face as he tongues her hole down without coming up for air. The wide, wet muscle is putting in overtime to work her open. 

Her moans goad him on, even if they are muffled by the sheets.

“Mh … mmh,” he groans, eyes closed as he devours her like a meal.��

One hand lifts, immediately falling back down against the plump skin of her asscheek. The spank is sharp, it echoes in her ears.

“Shit,” she hisses, face screwing up as his tongue breaks past her rim.

He pulls back, if only to admire his work so far. In between her cheeks glisten. And, what’s more, is that she’s dripping onto the bed.

Just like last time.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yess, baby, yes.”

Wordlessly, he dives back in. The same hand he used to smack her earlier, leaves its spot once again. 

She anticipates another slap, catches herself almost begging for it, actually. However, she gets a better surprise:

His hand, warm and soft, slides over her pussy with ease to cup it from underneath. She flinches when his fingers barely rub over her swollen clit.

That doesn’t last too long; Terry’s hand retreats, fingers poised just at the opening of her drooling cunt.

With too much ease, both middle and ring fingers slip in.

She whimpers.

They sink right in with wet suction, her pussy spurting around them. His heavy fingers settle comfortably in a familiar spot within her tight and slippery heat as her body seems to instantly mold around them.

Every time Terry’s in it, he almost swears she’s truly an endless portal into ecstasy. 

And while his mind finds itself caught on the wonders of her pussy, his mouth still wrecks her even tighter hole; His tongue digs into her, his fingers are pressing into her G-spot—it all stuns her. She can hardly breathe, feeling him push and prod. 

One particularly loud slurp of his makes her eyes roll back. Her pussy flutters, feeling a glob of his spit roll down her crack.

“Wanna fuck you. Fuck you with my tongue—“

She moans in agreement. The guttural sound transcends past the thick sheets.

“Hold it open.”

Although his voice is low, she still hears every word Terry mutters.

With an abundance of eagerness that her body can barely contain, she reaches back to hold herself open for him. 

As Terry remains knuckles deep within her, aiding in the escape of her sticky sap from her cunt, he pushes his tongue back into her ass.

She sloshes as he fucks his fingers up into her. Milky white and almost frothy cream runs down the palm of his hand to his wrist.

He doesn’t move his head, too desperate for her body to pull away. Instead, he tires himself with fucking into her by dragging his tongue in and out, his pace quickening. The ache of his jaw and the burn of the overworked muscle does nothing to dissuade him. 

One must work for their pleasure, he knows that.

“Oh … ohh … ah—aauhh!”

Her whines work alongside the tightening of her body. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up or slow down.

In fact, he receives her orgasm with an open palm, letting her pussy spill into it. Her squirt splashes against his forearm and the bed. And still, his hand never stops.

“Y’know … I was thinking about how much … how much I wanna make you a mom.”

His words come out airy and light, but that doesn’t diminish their effect. Her body responds, clamping tighter around his fingers.

A deep chuckle rises out of him. “You like that?”

Her only response is an incoherent moan as she pushes her hips back on his hand.

“Want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes,” her voice waivers.

When he pulls his hand out of her, it’s like a great loss. Suddenly, her world is empty without him. She wants to cry.

“Yeah, me too.”

When Terry finally pulls his dick out, he’s got more than enough of her cum on-hand to lube himself up. The creamy mess of her cunt is more than enough material to get him rock hard—not that he wasn’t already.

Taking himself in hand, he slowly lifts his heavy cock and drops it right between her ass cheeks. 

About two inches wide starting at the tip, his dick only gets slightly wider towards the base. Its underside has got that one vein running along it. She always licks at it when presented with such an opportunity.

A heated tint of flushed pink blossoms over the bulbous tip, dying down to a darker shade of brown along his shaft. It curves just to the left, the perfect angle that always seemed to knock against her walls perfectly.

Pulling his hips backward, he watches his dick drag against her supple skin, falling closer towards her center. When it’s just his tip left touching her, he takes ahold of himself at the base and slowly pushes forward.

He slips against her underside, burrowing into her thin bed of curls. The head knocks against her clit, triggering a stronger quake in her thighs.

Terry puckers his lips to spit another thick loogey, watching it land on her puckered rim. It winks back at him.

She can’t tell what goes in first, his thumb or his dick. All she knows is that he’s about nine inches deep in her cunt, and that there’s a thumb sinking into her ass.

There’s a delay before a long-winded, singular moan falls out of her mouth. All of her breath is caught in her chest. Her body is tense.

“Breath, baby. Breathe,” he reminds her.

Her brain buzzes. His words really only get through to her once his hand washes over her back like a cool rag.

That’s all it takes for her body to relax—somewhat at least. Her shoulders relax and her back even sinks inward.

A softer, much shorter moan leaves her, and the arching of her back accentuates the ache caused by his dick pressing against her walls. If either of them would look, they’ll see the outline of him, poking through her lower tummy in a small bulge.

Her pussy, stretched to its capacity, flutters around him, almost like it’s trying to swallow more than it can handle.

“S-so heavy,” she mumbles, gripping the sheets.

“But you like it,” he smiles. “I could tell, hm?”

Terry pushes in the last inch, taking too much joy in the broken whimper that leaves her. She’s suffocating, squeezing him and bathing him in wetness all the same. In this deep, he feels a soft, spongy wall pressing against his tip. 

“What’s that?” He shifts inside, nudging at that wall.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t look back, face too screwed up to see the horrific smile on his face.

“Huh?”

She almost wails out. Her hands twitch, itching to reach for her stomach. To cradle it as the deep ache within her reaches new heights.

“C’mon, talk to me.” 

The rest of his fingers splay out over the small of her back as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass. The thin stretch of muscle separating the two pleasure zones allows him to feel the curvature of himself, sitting deep in her walls.

“I’m in your stomach?”

Teeth gritted, she nods her head as fast as she can.

“You so quiet already.” Gentle and slow, he pulls out some inches, granting her relief. “I don’t like that.”

He slides his hips back in, pushing his dick right up against her cervix.

“GOD—“

“Yeah, like that.” He pulls out again, only to give her yet another deep stroke. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to me—”

“H-ooh—T-Terry!”

“Yes, baby,” he groans out over the sound of his hips meeting her ass. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“Ffuuuck!”

She writhes beneath him, shouting out ragged moans as he’s digging her out. 

Every time he pulls out, his dick is wetter and wetter. It goes from shining with her juices to caked in her crème in just a few strokes. 

Around her stretched hole is a mess, covered in her frothy release. It all builds up to the point that some of it sludges down between her legs and falls to the bed.

“Oh … shii—aaugh!”

Her resolve breaks, finally allowing her to press a hand to her stomach. Under her palm, she feels the repeating wave of his dick punching her guts beneath the wall of muscle.

She hisses, feeling his thumb fuck her ass as he pulls her back against his. With every plop of their body’s meeting, her cream splatters against his pelvis. Tiny beads of white fly, landing against his sweat-sheathed skin.

“Gonna need another shower after this, huh?” 

Even as Terry tries to remain cocky, his upper lip twitches as his body starts to react to this pleasure.

“Making a mess.” His stomach clenches. “Th-thought I was s’posed to be cleaning up.” 

He chokes out a bit of laughter, trying to conceal a moan of his own. His words start to blend as the pleasure overtakes him:

“You … creamin’ all over … mmh—“

His eyes threaten to roll back. But just as fast, Terry seems to regain a bit of composure. Enough to lock back in.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, his focus straightens and he gives repeated strokes. They’re dead-on, sharp, and heavy.

She screams out a profanity—he can’t even tell which one because she’s so out of it. But, her body is granted a moment of relief as he stops.

Carefully, he pulls his thumb out of her butt. It shines with her slick. When he looks at her barely stretched hole, clenching around nothing, it’s covered in her cream. 

The sight has him twitching inside of her, causing her body to give him a couple of extra squeezes in response.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. As his body starts to weaken, he sways a little. “M’sorry I had to mess you up like this, baby.”

Her only response is a mewl as she tries to fix herself.

Taking the hand he had used previously, he holds himself at the base to pull out of her. And when he’s finally out, it’s like there’s a dick-shaped hole in her stomach. She swears he left an impression inside of her.

Her pussy feels so tender and swollen, clit overly sensitive. And yet, the pain of it all is too good. She misses it. She misses him.

And he can tell, seeing her hole flutter around nothing, stretched out. But she doesn’t have to worry for too long, because he’ll fix that.

Peering down at himself, Terry is marveled at all of the mess between them. His dick, still hard, is a creamy, sticky mess—practically dripping in her release.

At the base is where there’s the most build-up. Loopy off of all the testosterone running through him, he gets an idea that has him swiping up some of the mess with his middle and ring finger. 

With no hesitation, Terry presses the two fingers to her ass. They slide in with ease, even causing a very loud squish.

“Ooouuhh,” she groans. 

Turning her head to the side, Terry’s finally able to see how pleasure contorts her face. Eyes low and unfocused, heavy bottom lip pulled between both rows of teeth, as she begins to slowly rock back and forth. So desperate, she fucks herself on his fingers.

“Just like that … take it, baby. Take it—”

“Oouuh shit, Terry.”

“C’mon.”

“Ooh, fuck—“

Pfffffft.

The sharp sound of air expelling from her cunt as Terry pushes back in, punctuates her sentence. Her mouth drops open, her neck craning against the sheets.

He’s speechless, too. Seeing the way her pussy blows a raspberry around his thick dick, spitting out dribblets of cream against his lower stomach. Some even dribbles out of her.

“Hnnnh,” she whines, pathetically.

Curling his fingers inside of her, he plays with her ass. Throughout this all, his other hand had never left her left hip, thumb still covering his name.

He pulls out halfway, only to push his dick back in.

“Fuck, I love it when she talks to me,” he laughs, breathlessly, throwing his head back. It’s music to his ears, hearing her pussy squirt and fart around him.

So lost in the sound, he doesn’t even notice the way her shoulders twitch as her orgasm crashes into her. It’s not until he feels water hit his pelvis that he looks down.

Around his dick, she squirts. It’s a heavy enough stream. He watches it trickles down both of their thighs, completely drenching the already soaked through sheets.

Without a word, he pulls his fingers out before placing the other hand on her hip. His grip tightens around her.

Leaning more of his weight forward, Terry pushes her arch deeper. “Really gonna … make you a mommy like this—“

She gets no prep as he fucks the arch out of her back and puts her into the mattress. The clap of her ass against his pelvis is almost deafening. 

Her hips are barely off of the bed. Behind them, her legs raise, toes curling tightly as she wails out.

“Keep squeezing me,” he pants, teeth gritted. “Keep fuckin’ … fu-uck—“

He buries his face into her neck, groaning. His ears ring as he shoots off a heavy load in her.

For minutes, they stay connected as Terry tries to regain his breath. His orgasm lasts much longer than he thought it would, filling her to the brim.

When he finally pulls out, mustering enough strength to stand, he watches tiredly as her body pushes out thick globs of their mixed release.

Her pussy is slathered in their mess, certain spots caked up in a frothy white.

He grabs a cheek, pulling it apart from its twin so that he can see it all much clearer.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. “Love when you let me use you.”

Mindlessly, he lets a hand fall to his dick. It’s tender, but his hold on himself is light. Still holding her open with the other hand, he gently strokes himself. His hand practically glides over himself, what with all the cum coating his dick.

The sensation, the mess, her—it doesn’t take too much for him to get a semi.

“Fuck, you always make me so horny.”

He gets a knee on the bed, positioning himself directly behind her again.

Sensing his growing closeness, she weakly picks her head up and looks back at him. She’s a vision of wild curls, watery eyes, and bitten-raw lips.

As he gets closer, stroking his hardening dick, he brushes his fat, swelling tip again her lips. Rubbing himself against her, he gathers more of cum, coating himself.

“Terry,” she whines, a soft pout on her lips.

“You too tired?”

He pulls her asscheek further, fully exposing her second hole.

Her plump lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You want me to stop? You could tell me, baby,” he croons.

Still, he begins rubbing his tip against the much smaller hole. She can feel it throb against her.

“Tell me. Y’know I’ll still get the groceries for you.”

He gives her time to object, to say ‘no,’ while he’s positioning himself at her opening. However, she only watches, her face scrunching even more as he slowly applies pressure.

“I’ll get you whatever you want. Especially when you have our son.”

With little effort, he pops the head in past her rim. A tired smile lifts his lips as she moans out lowly. Her head turns back forward as it falls to the bed.

Weak to the way he uses her body, she simply lies there, taking his dick through the back as he sings his delusions to her (because who said she was going to have a boy).

Even tired, her body tenses with the pressure of his dick sliding in her. He’s not as rough as when he was in her pussy.

This time, his strokes are gentle and shallow. It’s a moderate pace he maintains as he holds her open to see the way he stretches her out.

And it just does something to him; seeing her spent pussy just below, covered in their cum and still leaking while he uses her asshole just the same.

Because, she’s his woman, and he’s going to have every part of her body. Just in the same way that he’s her man, and if she wants him at any time she can have him.

His second orgasm doesn’t take long to come. When he feels it approaching, he carefully pulls out. Taking himself in hand, he gives a few short strokes before painting her ass. 

Streaks of white splatter against the warm brown canvas, making her ass look like toasted buns covered in vanilla drizzle. 

And if he had the energy to, he’d eat her ass again. But this was already a lot, and he can’t lie, he’s exhausted.

Terry can only hope that she won’t be mad that he waited a little longer to get the groceries.

@wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @thegoatedaries @nova2kss @thecoochiefairy @plutobratz @levibabymama_ @bubblegum-lollipop @junitries @kenshisluvrgirl

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[qwordavoider]

Tease Tidbit Thursday

I was tagged by @inawickedlittletown last week for this and never got around to it. So here is a snippet from the final chapter of Parting Waves!

(Also an extra tease, the next part that will follow 3b canon events has the working title of Troubling Returns)

Buck smirked at the outrage on Eddie’s face as Buck clearly sided against him. Chim, on the other hand had jumped up and started taunting Eddie by doing a little dance and pointing fingers in his face.

“Loser!” he shouted, before coming over to Buck and giving him a crushing hug, “Oh, I am glad you’re back.”

Everyone seemed to pause at that for a second, even Chim. Eddie broke the silence, “Wait, are you back?”

At that moment, Bobby walked up the stairs and greeted Buck, “Hey, Buck, I am glad you could make it.”

Buck quickly hugged Bobby before they turned back to the other 3. Thankfully, Bobby started the conversation because Buck couldn’t seem to make his mouth move.

“There are going to be a couple of changes to the 118 over the next couple of months,” Bobby said as he gave him an encouraging smile. 

“I am going to be transferring back after Christmas,” Buck said as he watched excited smiles appear on Eddie and Chim’s faces and a small smile grace Hen’s. 

He continued, “I’m not coming back right away because I need to make sure I don’t leave the 217 down a helitac crew member. And,” he turned to Bobby, who gave him a small nod, “the timing just made sense, with everything else going on.” He was met with confused looks from Chim and Eddie as their eyes darted back and forth between Bobby and Buck. Hen was smiling sadly at him, but he could swear there was some pride behind it too. 

“Our shift on Christmas will be my last shift as a captain of the 118. I will be retiring from the active roster, and Captain Roger Nichols will be taking my place,” Bobby explained

“What?” Chim exclaimed, right as Eddie said, “Cap, you can’t retire.”

Bobby just shook his head, “I am at peace with my decision. After the tunnel accident, I decided I didn’t want to keep living my life for other people. I have loved being a firefighter and being your captain, but I am looking forward to more time with Athena and the kids. And as I told Buck, I just don’t think I am the best thing for this firehouse anymore. I am proud of what I managed to build and how the house flourished after we turned it around. But there is more that can be done to improve, and I don’t think I am the best person for the job considering the circumstances.”

Bobby looked at Buck as he said that last line. And Buck wasn’t prepared for what came out of Bobby’s mouth next.

“I want to apologize to you, Buck, in front of everyone. The way I treated you after the truck bombing and the blood clots was wrong, and I am sorry. I let my own feelings and past get in the way of seeing how well you were taking care of yourself despite everything being thrown your way. I am so proud of how you have grown since you were just a probie. I can’t wait to see what changes you have in mind for this house, and how you’re going to mold it into something better."

as always these are just the parting waves tags so no pressure, but feel free to post something if you so desire ☺️ : @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator @sleepy-lazy-loser @sassybeautydiysports @dandelioncasey @sporadicmakerwerewolf @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @meibhin @swagmaster9k @tommysdaddykink @chaoticdisasterbi

[yuwuta]

yuuta from his position at the foot of the bed (bc you’re totally mad at him and definitely not fighting off the urge to cuddle despite your anger bc of his big wet eyes that shimmer with how much he loves you) telling u goodnight and if he can give u a goodnight kiss and you’re like sigh fine but yuuta doesn’t reach up to all the way where u are with ur head on his favorite pillow. instead he shifts the covers so your knee is exposed to the cool air from the ac and he gives your knee a little kiss and pets the back of your thigh. he really just wants to feel your warmth in any way he cans and you’re happy to indulge him in this way if it means u can still keep up the angry front. anyways he hums goodnight to you as he curls up on his end of the bed, respecting your space even as u want to reach out to him. by morning you’ve found your way into his arms anyways

He’s actually so sick……… kissing your knee what the fuck!! The image of him just kneeling at the side of the bed and looking up at you and begging to kiss you goodnight even tho you’re mad at him….. he is a sick sick individual and the worst part is that he’s such a dizzying mix of completely genuine and completely calculated. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, he really is sorry, he really doesn’t want you to be angry; but at the same time he knows how much you love it when he touches you so gently, he knows you’ve both grown accustomed to falling asleep in each others arms, he’s hoping to give you just enough to make you come back for more…

Honestly, I doubt he falls asleep. He’s hoping you’ll forgive him, he’s hoping you accept his apology, but he can’t be certain. So he curls up on his side of the bed and tries to steady his breathing as much as possible, but it’s hard. He misses you; you’re right there and he misses you. Thirty minutes pass by and he turns around to face your body; your back is still to him but at least he can see you. He wants to touch you, he wants to hold you…. he wonders if it’ll make you mad if he does, but by an hour of wondering he decides if it’s worth the risk. You’re probably asleep anyway… he starts small, just a finger caressing your arm, then his palm, then he scoots closer until the tip of his nose is against the back of your neck and he sighs and you shudder and he realizes you’re awake. He takes it as a good sign, that you couldn’t sleep without him either and that you let him touch you, so he becomes bold, smiles against your skin and finally, finally wraps his arms around you so both can rest :((

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[madamechrissy]

I'll look After You

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem reader (reader is a mom)

Summary: You longed to hear from Satoru, After an epic night hooking up in a club bathroom, sure you'd been strangers, but he has your number, he made you feel so special... but... he never contacts you again. Ten months later, you have a beautiful baby named Reign, with those exact blue eyes. You never saw him again, couldn't even find him, so now, you are living your life as a single mom. Messy bun, dark circles, exhausted, you run into Satoru one day, and he sees her, his baby girl, and sees you struggling, he knows then, you're what's been missing in his life.

CW: MDNI- Sweet and emotional story, SO MUCH fluff here, Satoru is a freaking doll, misunderstanding led to him not knowing (nothing is kept from anyone on purpose) Fluffy long oneshot, watch Satoru fall in love with reader and his lil girl. Gojo being a dad and being cute! Explicit smut at the end- warnings- breed kink (it's me???) oral (f receiving) dirty talk, possessive Satoru (When isn't he?) Also some flashbacks to the original bathroom hookup (fingering, dirty talk etc) Sexual tension, 10.6k WC <3

Here is the full oneshot! Comments and reblogs SO appreciated if you enjoy <3

You often wondered about him, Satoru was his name.

As you look down at your baby girl, with her brilliant blue eyes while she’s cooing happily, giving you a gummy little grin, you wonder what he’d think if he knew about her. The random guy at the bar you gave your number to after hooking up in a bathroom, the guy who never called, the guy with no social media of which to speak. The guy you never, ever saw again.

Your baby’s father, the best thing that ever happened to you, surely, but also it was very difficult, being a single mom, you’d have to go back to work soon which you were dreading, spending sleepless nights up feeding, changing her. It had been a rough pregnancy, and a shocking one at that, people had questioned you over and over, some mentioned not having her.

But something in you knew you could do this, you could have this baby, you’re broke as fuck but she has all she needs, and she makes you so happy, but those eyes are unmistakable. No one has eyes like that, except her and her… well was he her dad? You wonder if he’d run ten million miles from you if he knew, or would he have been okay with it?

It’s odd that just a night of fun, alcohol and being on antibiotics created this amazing little girl, but you can’t be upset, not when she brightens your world. But you still ache at times, for her to have a dad, you hope you’re enough. You wonder about him though, the bright energetic man, the one that had made you feel more in one evening than anyone ever.

The last man you’d been with.

Yes, it’s been that long, Reign was two months old, so you’re damn near a year, you say it’s because you’re so busy, but something deep in you knows that you felt something for him, deeper than the obvious physical. Something about how he looked at you, at how he laughed, at how he made you feel so special.

You assume it must have been some act, clearly, here you are, alone after all. You both only knew each other’s first names, it’s true, but he had that number. Maybe it wasn’t all you thought it was? Maybe he just was that sort of guy, the one that made women think they’re his everything with one of his kisses, maybe you were just too drunk, and he was too pretty.

You blink a bit, shaking the haze thoughts of him as you yawn a bit, exhausted from Reign keeping you up all night, her tummy had been hurting. You’re sleepily putting things in the cart, baby items, groceries, the essentials, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the produce, wincing then. You have a messy bun and are in pajamas, god help you if you ever wanted to meet a guy.

‘Oh hi, I have a baby with a random blue eyed dude from a bar, I’m broke as fuck, and I wear pajamas to the store. Wanna date?’

Yeah. That would go over well.

“It’s… it’s… you!?” You sleepily look up then, so exhausted you barely register the six foot three man for a moment, then suddenly it all hits.

He stares at you, those blue eyes, the eyes your baby has, wide now, his pouty pink lips dropped open. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember him, like it’s some dream, you feel weak then, chest rising and falling as your breaths come too quickly. He steps closer to you then, he hasn’t seen her yet, nestled in her little car seat on the cart, you’re panicking.

“Do you even remember me? Oh my god, that night my phone broke, and I had just got it, they couldn’t transfer the numbers! And I tried to look you up? But I couldn’t find you… and I never saw you… and then- fuck I’m rambling.” He laughs nervously, swiping his hand through his snowy locks. “Forgive me, please… what I mean to say is… Hi?”

“Hi…” Your baby whines then, and Satoru pauses, blinking and you move to the side then, he steps closer when Reign opens her eyes, grinning at him.

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest, his entire world tilts on its axis, he was already so thrown off by seeing you again, the girl he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of, but now… he looks at you in shock, you look exhausted, but so beautiful, your eyes tear up then, he watches your shoulders slump, then he looks back at the baby, realization sinking in.

“She’s… is she… there’s no way…”

“She’s yours, I only hooked up with you for the past… year.” You manage to say softly, right in the middle of the fruit aisle, Satoru was finding out you have his baby.

“You did this alone?” He says then, blinking back emotions for a girl he barely knew, but who now has a part of him, a part he wants to know so badly suddenly, shocking him.

“I had no clue who you were, how to tell you, even if so, it’s not your responsibility okay? I take care of her just fine, I make it work.” Satoru’s heart breaks then, seeing how tired you are, seeing the endless baby items and cheap toilet paper, a cheap bottle of wine, is that all you get yourself?

You did this alone, you have his baby alone, altering your life while he’s living his just the same, partying with his best friends, working and living a luxurious life. Satoru was rich, and it’s clear his baby and his baby’s mother are struggling, and he’s here doing what? Could he have tried harder to find you!? Could he…

“We’re okay, you don’t have to worry. I’d never come for you for anything, I am happy being her mommy.” You say with a tired smile, reaching to touch her little chubby cheek, and Satoru has never seen anything so beautiful, the two of you.

He’s felt so empty for this year, is this what he was missing?

“Can I… please… Can I know her?” He asks, gulping now, and you blink in shock, nodding quickly.

“I would love that.” You can’t stop your tears then, sniffling and shaking your head. “Please, let’s talk out of a produce aisle?” You whisper, he nods quickly, unable to take his eyes off you, off his baby.

After paying for your groceries, which you protest to, he’s out by your car now, a little minivan that makes him smile, picturing you as some pretty soccer mom already. You take her out of the car seat then, holding her carefully, smiling up nervously at Satoru. His chest swells at seeing you hold her, some instinct takes over, he instantly knows then.

He needs to take care of you both.

“I thought you’d freak out if you knew, be upset or want nothing to do with…”

“God no, no. I mean I don’t know what to think, but… she’s beautiful. Like her mom.” His words make you flush.

“I’m a wreck, Satoru, look at me.”

“You just need some help, doing it all alone?”

“You don’t have to, okay? I can do it.”

He brushes a tendril back off your temple, sighing as he looks at you, at those dark circles that just make you more beautiful, but show the fragility you’re keeping under wraps as best as you can. “I want to help, this is on me too.”

“It’s not, I was on the pill but… antibiotics.” You grumble, holding the baby to your chest now, she is sucking on her little binkie, bright pink. “It’s all on me, I’d love you to be in her life, but don’t feel obligated to pay for anything.”

“You’re stubborn, will she be too?” He narrows his eyes, and you giggle then, the first time in a long time you’ve heard that sound.

“She’s already stubborn, she gave me a hard time, wouldn’t come out.” She wriggles then, and you step a little closer to Satoru. “Wanna hold her?”

“Can you… tell me how to?” He asks, and you smile at him, for a tall, buff man he’s so sweet and precious, nervous even.

“Yes, hold your arms like this.” He does as you ask, holding his arms out, as you gently place Reign in his arms. “Hold her head just so. There you go, hey Reign, this is your dad.”

“Reign?” He asks, in shock as he looks into her eyes, his eyes, but she has your nose, your hair. His lips. She’s… “Perfect.”

“Isn’t she? Is it okay if I call you her dad?”

“It’s… perfect.” He says again, smiling at you, tears making his snowy lashes spike just so, you feel so complete then somehow. You can’t explain it, seeing this melts you, and Reign is so happy she's cooing, sucking on her binky and staring at him, you watch him melt right with you. “HI there, dumpling.”

“Dumpling? She's got a nickname huh.” He grins so big, nodding.

“I moved out of the city for the past year but I just came back to town. How far are you?”

“Oh like ten minutes. Would you… like to come over tomorrow? I'd say today but my place is a wreck.”

“I'd love to. Can I get her something please?”

“You don't have to… but she can always use binkies she throws these things. Ugh, see?” Reign spits out her binky and Satoru snorts as you catch it. She then touches his cheek, and he chokes up.

“I… oh my god. I love her?” He whispers in wonder, and you exhale, blinking tears that refuse to stop falling. “Is that crazy?”

“No. I loved her when I first saw her too. Fuck I'm a wreck “

“Hey…” He steps closer, handing you her carefully and then placing his big hands on your shoulders. “I am here now for both of you, however you'll let me be. Shh.” He brushes your back, resting his head on yours as you hold her close.

“I never thought I'd see you, tell you. I'm overwhelmed. I'm sorry.”

“Yeah me too.”

Of course he is, fuck. He just found out he's a dad, and he's honestly taking it better than anyone could. He brushes your tears away, and your pulse quickens, you clear your throat then. “We don't even know each other, it's insane huh?”

“Absolutely insane. But… I can't wait to spend time with her.” He says softly, you smile up at him, trying not to read so much into it, so happy he wants to be in her life but you have to remember that doesn't mean with you.

“Come over tomorrow I'll cook you lunch? Please don't break your phone again.” He laughs then, nodding as you two exchange numbers.

“Last name is Gojo. I hope one day hers can be?” And yours, he thinks, but he knows it's crazy to say, as he watches you smile so pretty through your tears.

“Maybe we can do that someday. Well, Reign, say bye to dad.” Satoru kisses her little forehead, leaning up then, thinking of kissing you. You both stand there a moment before he opens your door, and you set Reign back in her little pink car seat. You smile up at him again. “I am sorry I'm in pajamas by the way, ugh.”

“They're cute, little snowmen.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you slide in your car, hoping you will see him tomorrow with everything. “See you both soon.”

You drive away, and Satoru calls his driver and assistant then. “Can you order me everything a baby girl needs? And I need it by tomorrow.”

******

There’s a knock on your door, you peek in the mirror one more time, you took a bath last night, your hair is shimmering and clean for once, you have just a little concealer on for those dark circles, a little lip gloss. You’re wearing clothes and not sweats or pajamas, a little top with a cardigan and jeans, nothing fancy but you look human again.

You can’t believe that Satoru will come, until you open that door and see him, standing next to a tired looking dark haired man holding an insane amount of glittery pink bags. Satoru’s grinning at you, wearing Gucci shades and a dress shirt probably worth more than your rent, only one little bag in his hand swinging side to side as he greets you.

“Satoru, you… what is all this?” You ask curiously, and he shrugs a broad shoulder, handing you the little bag.

“All that is for Regin, this is for you though.”

“What!? It’s too many things!”

“Miss, may I?”

You realize he’s just standing there struggling, and come to then. “Oh, yes I’m so sorry! Put them on the table?”

Satoru and Kiyotaka walk in then, you have a little place, it’s about the size of Satoru’s living room altogether, but it’s comfy and clean, lived in and every bit of it has something of you. He sees pictures of you pregnant on your little silver fridge, pictures of Reign all over, along with Christmas cards all placed with magnets. He sees you’ve baked cookies, too, the scent making him starve.

Almost as much as your scent, so sweet and intoxicating, as he stands next to you, gesturing to the bags. “I wanted to get her something, remember?”

“This is a whole store though!” Kiyotaka leaves now, and you’re delving into the bags, gasping as you pull out the softest, fuzziest pink blanket. “Oh my god…”

“I just had them buy everything for a girl? Is pink good?”

You giggle then, smiling as you pull out a pretty pink dress. “She doesn’t know colors yet, Satoru.”

Of course she doesn’t.

Satoru truly doesn’t know shit about kids, he called and told his mom, asking for advice, and almost gave her a heart attack he thinks. “Of course not, I… where is she? Is she napping?”

“She is, but don’t worry she usually wakes up soon. Oh these are so cute, how expensive are these!? She’s gonna wear them for like a week!” You ask then, pulling out a little baby pair of fancy shoes, then two more. “She can’t even walk yet… ah, but these are so cute though.” You’re clearly conflicted, he chuckles a bit, then you stand up. “Oh my god, I’m a shitty host!”

“You’re cute.” His words, all husky with that deep voice of his, make you flush now, making you even cuter to him. “You look pretty today.”

“Oh thank you, I didn’t want you to think I’m constantly a monster.” He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You’re cute either way. This was you pregnant?” He asks, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“Yes, I was a whale, oh god.” He touches the photo then, a longing surging through him, he missed this, he missed you like this. He feels an ache washing through him, looking at your glowing face and round tummy.

“No, you were beautiful.” Your breath catches, eyes shooting to his as he looks at you now, feeling something pulling you towards him, it’s like he takes the air out of your lungs just standing here.

“You’re very sweet, Satoru… thank you.” You manage to breathe out the words, when he looks down at your body now, heating it up with his gaze.

“Did you like being pregnant?”

The words throw images in your mind, of him over you, putting more babies in you, fucking insane ones that you shove down quickly. He was clearly caring, and wanting to be involved, you needed to keep your thoughts to that and only that, despite the way your stomach is fluttering at his proximity.

“I did love being pregnant, feeling her move and kick, singing to my tummy and feeling her calm down. But towards the end it was really rough, because she decided she wasn’t coming out.” You say with a little laugh, Satoru can see in how you speak how much you adore her. “Would you like to see more pictures later?”

“I’d love to. You didn’t open what I got you.”

“You shouldn’t get me anything. Oh, do you want some cookies?”

“Yes please.” He starts munching down on them, moaning. “You baked these?”

“I bake when I’m nervous? It gets insane how much I bake.” He smiles then, you’re tucking your shimmering hair behind your ear, grabbing him a glass of milk before you go grab the little bag.

“Open it, now.” He sips his milk as you sit on the barstool by the counter, fingers gently pulling apart tissue paper, until you open a little box and see a gift card.

“To a spa!? I haven’t ever been to a spa? What I can’t!”

“You will. When you’re comfortable I could watch her, so you could get some time to yourself.” You sniffle then, the kindness of him after all the overwhelming months you’ve had is too much, you shake your head.

“I can’t, it’s all too much, you shouldn’t feel like you have to do this!” He walks to you then, brushing a tear from your cheek, exhaling as he leans down so close.

“Sweetheart, I’m fucking rich, okay?”

“I assumed… wealthy with your clothes…”

“No, filthy fucking rich. Let me spend it on my baby and get her mom just a little thing please? How can you take care of her without any care for you?”

“I just do it, Satoru. I just do it.” He brushes more of your tears now, his lips far too close, you still don’t know him truly but the gesture is melting every defense you may have had up.

“Just go relax one day, not now, when you’re more comfortable.” Reign starts crying then, making Satoru back off just as you’d leaned your chin up, and you two had been so close. You back away too, nervously standing.

“I’ll go get her for you.” You say with a big smile, eyes still watery, and then you bring her out, Satoru’s heart swells even more than it did seeing you, he eagerly picks her up this time, versus being so nervous as before. “Dad spoiled you already.”

“Not even close to spoiled yet.” He murmurs, snuggling her to him.

“Have a seat, please.” He sits on the couch with her, you take one of the many little blankets, gently laying it over her and then sitting on the couch with him, as he stares at her in wonder.

“She barely cries?”

“That’s around you, it seems. She likes you already.” Your words fill him with far too much happiness, a happiness he’s never known, but also such a longing.

“I wish I could have been there.” He whispers, brokenly, the handsome white haired man holding your little girl, and suddenly you can picture it, maybe his big bright smile during what was a difficult labor.

“You’re here now.” You assure him, a hand gentle on his shoulder, the caress delicate before you think better of it, pulling your hand back. “I thought about you a lot, I mean… I tried to find you.”

“I wish you had.”

“Really?” He nods then, emotional. “Satoru Gojo, you surprised me, I thought for sure you’d turn and run.”

“Nah, why? Look at her.” She’s blinking her long lashes, grinning at him then. “So what do I like… do with her? Besides holding her?”

You laugh softly then, it’s so easy to have him around, it feels so natural that it’s weird. “Well you can feed her a bottle I pumped, but I breast feed mostly.”

He gulps now, looking at your top, where your nipples were pressing against the thin fabric. “Oh?”

“Yeah, depending on her mood, sometimes she is vicious. I’ll show you.” You gently take your top up, feeling his gaze when you pull off your nursing bra.

“That thing is easy access.” He murmurs, you giggle a bit, nervous for him to see you when you let it drop, revealing one of your pretty breasts to him, leaving him dazed before he snaps out of it, handing you Reign.

It’s very intimate, sitting with him while you feed her, she’s sucking hard, so hard you wince then, her little long nails digging into your breast as Satoru smirks. “You’re gonna laugh at this pain?”

“She’s just like her dad, look at her go. A pro.” You snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as Reign aggressively punches your breasts for more milk.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t think you did that.” You murmur thoughtfully, pushing back flashes of the night while she suckles.

“That’s a tragedy.” You look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, while you feed his daughter, his daughter, it’s still not comprehending, it’s still taking him a lot to conceive it’s real. “Look at her face, oh my god!”

Your heart warms as he leans over, and Reign has stopped drinking, a goofy smile on her face. “She’s milk drunk.”

“What now? She looks high as fuck.” You hold in your laughter so you don’t wake her now, her eyes are shut and she’s still sucking on nothing.

“She does look stoned, it always cracks me up. Do you wanna put her to bed? I’ll show you where she sleeps.”

He nods and takes her again, watching your nipple with just a droplet of milk on it, he swipes it away before he can think better, making you shoot your eyes to him, lips parted. You hastily put the bra back up as a blush pinkens Satoru’s cheeks, slipping down your top, his touch on your sensitive nipples almost ended you just now. The desire for him in every way is almost insane.

You show him to the only room in your little place, it’s got a crib and a bassinet, and a tiny little bed that he assumes you must sleep in. You start wrapping her up in the new pink blanket then, swaddling her so tight, he watches in wonder at it, as you bundle her up.

“She’ll like a little burrito.” You snort in laughter, trying to keep quiet and covering your mouth then, looking up at Satoru in amusement.

“She kind of is? Babies like to be swaddled, they feel comfy.”

“You know so much… Have you had any experience before?” You both watch as she settles now.

“No, I learned all this from lots of books and bugging the shit out of my mother. Though she even thought I was crazy to have her. But something…” You trail off then, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

“No, please go on. Something?”

“Something told me I was meant to have her, it sounds crazy. But… I knew I could do it, even if it’s a lot.”

Satoru’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back, as you turn your head to look back up at him, seeing the emotions written all over his perfect face. “You’re doing great.”

You break down then at that, sobbing against his chest as he holds you, soothing rubs on your back. “I needed that, shit I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” You stay like that for a moment, letting him hold you against his chest, your face buried against his shirt, tears spilling freely while you take several breaths. “You’re a great mom, I can already see.”

“Shit…” You pull yourself together, taking several breaths and leaning back then, Satoru’s cupping your face and it takes everything not to kiss him, this man who you still barely know. “I really appreciate that. It’s been hard so far, but I love her so much, it's impossible how deeply.”

“I can feel it already. You, missy, need that break.”

“I couldn’t…”

“I want to be involved, I want to care for her, and that means her mom too. Yeah?” You shake your head, earning his little glare. “Stubborn little brat.”

“Excuse me!?” You glare right back, and he grins.

“You are one!”

“Me a brat?” Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms.

“Mmhmm.” Satoru tilts your chin up, your head falls back then, and he imagines entwining his fingers in it, imagining kissing you just like that night. He leans even closer and you pull back, clearing your throat.

“We should step out so we don’t wake her.” You murmur, when you’re back in the living room you’re carefully folding all the clothes he’s bought. “Oh, I promised lunch! You up for stir fry?”

“I’m up for anything you wanna make, after eating those cookies.” You set to work, and soon the two of you are eating lunch together, Satoru moans as he devours the food. “My god you’re a good cook.”

“Thank you, I love to cook.” You nibble on your rice thoughtfully. “Ugh, I’m gonna hate leaving her to work.”

Satoru scowls now. “Huh?”

“Maternity leave is over in two weeks. I’m just going to work part time though, so I’ll still see her plenty. Maybe I’ll bring her to work?”

“Where do you work?”

“A library, I’m very exciting.” Satoru grins now.

“You look like a little librarian.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Goodie goodie, despite the bathroom…” You both quiet then, as his mind whirls, and yours spins, remembering.

“S-Satoru!” You’d cried out as his fingers had pumped in and out of your tight little entrance, soaking his fingers as he kissed down your neck, you watched your reflection in the mirror as he pressed you against the sink, free hand gripping you right under your chin.

“Fuck, look at you? So sexy…” He murmurs, the club's music pounding like your heart in your chest. He has a big hand muffling your cries as you soak his hands, dripping all over him. “Hear her?”

His murmur against your ear makes you tremble, shivers sending down your spine as he builds that pressure inside you. You nod, drooling against his palm, when he is hitting that spot that has your eyes rolling back, pressing on it over and over with his long, thick fingers. You’re screaming into his hand, ass arching against him.

“That’s it, pretty, cum f’me huh?”

You both get quiet then, you see it clear as day, your face in that mirror as he’d filled you, and he remembers sucking your juices off his fingers, god it’s been almost a year and he can’t get your taste off his mind. He’d been with a few women here and there since he didn’t think he’d see you again, but they were nothing like it, nothing like you.

How your body responded, every little muffled cry, he remembers dying to get you fully naked, planning it all out when he would call you. He wanted you to not even leave his bed, he’d fully taste you, make you cum with his mouth. He’d get to look into your eyes as he filled you so good, have your legs up over his shoulders while he pumped inside.

It’s like electricity in your quiet little home, the two of you sitting in a daze, your breath comes quicker when he leans across the table, brushing your cheek with his fingers, feeling the heat on them. “Warm?” He teases.

“Um, a little.” You stand then, taking his plate and smiling, acting as normal as you can. “All done?”

“Yeah, thank you.” He watches you wash them then, he can’t even fathom not having a dishwasher, but you’re there with your pretty hands and that sponge. He doesn’t want you to work, he doesn’t want you even doing this, you should just enjoy the baby.

But with how stubborn you are, how independent? He doesn’t know if you’ll even take his offer when he makes it.

“How about you come to my place with the little Dumpling this weekend? Maybe… stay a night? I’ll have her something set up.”

“Stay the night?” You nearly break the dish you’re drying, Satoru catches it, suddenly next to you. “Who are you, Edward Cullen?”

“Pshh, I look like a glittery fucking vampire?”

“A bit.” You’re both laughing softly then, he dries the plates and you show him where to put them up. “It’s nice having a giant around.”

“Almost whacked my head on your ceiling fans.”

“The hardships of being stupidly tall, hmm?”

“Hmm.” He leans against the counter now, snowy lashes lowering as he studies you intently, those eyes that just do something to you, even after this long. It feels like you’ve known him, when one of his hands delicately brushes down your shoulder, feeling the soft knit of your cardigan. “You dress like a little librarian.”

“Do I now? Not that night.”

His nostrils flare just a bit. “Not that night.”

Satoru had you lifted on that sink, sinking inside you for the first time, damn near whimpering in your ear as he kissed on your breasts, trying to yank them out as much as he could but failing. “Slutty little dress.”

“S-slutty? You’re… slutty!” You’re clinging to him as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, your cunt is drooling down his veiny length as he fucks into you, your thighs pressing against his narrow hips.

“Both are, listen to her… ha…” He’s got one hand cupping your face, looking at you before he slams his lips down, tongues dancing while his cock keeps thrusting, tip dragging your spot, as you fall apart in the bathroom, a tangle of limbs intermingling with muffled cries. “F-fuck…”

“That dress still does things to my mind.” He admits, and you wonder then, how’d you both get so close? How were you nearly flush against him?

“Does it now?” Your attempt at a tease meets with a broken voice, and you clear your throat, looking down shyly. “I don’t think my ass would fit in it now, your baby girl gave me some hips.”

“I bet they’re sexy.”

“She gave me stretch marks too.”

“Sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You shake your head then, brushing a hand up his chest, wondering just what his body looks like. He's clearly built, you can tell he's muscular, but you have to wonder just how he looks. “You… don’t date anyone?”

“Nah. I mean I have had some dates this year, but nothing serious.” He couldn’t say it’s because of you, because he compares women to this random girl he felt such a pull to, and now it’s a million times worse. Even picturing cute little stretch marks from having his baby makes Satoru feral, it takes a lot not to show you, to act cool and calm with a little smirk.

“I haven’t at all. I mean… I’m so busy with Reign, and the pregnancy.”

“Been a while then?” His words are full of suggestion, his hand now brushes the air across your waist, hovering, like he wants to pull you in, and you’d let him, when Reign starts crying. You both step apart, his hands in his pockets, yours nervously fidgeting with your sweater.

“I’ll go get her.” You come back with her now, and Satoru lights up at seeing her in your arms, bending down to kiss her downy soft hair, sighing.

“Why does she smell so good?”

“Baby smell. I know, it’s addictive.” You inhale her scent, smiling as you are once again a centimeter from Satoru’s lips, your gaze goes to them, glossy and plump.

“Will you come this weekend?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be there Satoru.”

“I am going to learn things, I promise.”

“Satoru, just take it one day at a time. You’re doing great.” He nods then, gulping down his every emotion as he leaves you two, and it feels so awful and wrong to leave you both, every force in the world pulling him back.

“How’d it go, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, as he’s driving him back home.

“Amazing. They're so beautiful.”

“They?”

“I mean…” You both are. “Kiyotaka, do you know shit about babies?” The man smiles tiredly then, shaking his head.

“No, Mr. Gojo, but I see you’re so… happy?”

Satoru has a silly grin then. “I am, I want to set something up for them, think you can order more baby things? For my place?”

“Certainly, Sir.” He smiles as he watches Satoru in the rearview mirror, he never would have pictured something like this, but it’s clear Satoru is beaming.

*****

“Come in, come in!” You pause in awe as you carry Reign inside Satoru’s insanely beautiful home. It's probably ten of your place if not more, sleek and elegant, everything brand new and sparkling clean. He’s instantly taking Reign, who is babbling at him as he cradles her, melting you completely before you even take a step.

“Your place is beautiful.” You murmur, he smiles at you then, taking your diaper bag off your arm and leading you inside.

“Thank you for coming, I missed her already!? Yes I did, dumpling!” He plants kisses all over her face now, Satoru Gojo holding your baby just did things to your heart, rewired your brain, seeing them both light up.

“She missed you too.” You murmur softly, Satoru looks at you then, white teeth glinting under the soft lights, taking in your pretty dress.

“Mama looks pretty.” He whispers, loud on purpose clearly, you’re a blushing mess, when Satoru’s blue eyes sweep over you.

“You’re too much.” You say, but you’re lowkey falling bad, you’d talked with him so much these past few days, as he asked endless questions, but also as you two got to know each other. You’d fallen asleep on the phone last night, Satoru had listened to your light little snore, smiling and falling asleep with you.

It seems too easy, which terrifies you, but so far it’s been Satoru being excited to be a dad, so you keep trying to remind yourself that is what this was, but it’s hard when he looks at you that way. “Too much? You haven’t seen shit. Come on.”

“Oh god.” You follow him now, as he leads you through a wide open hall, winking at you.

“Ya ready?”

“I think so?” He opens the door and it takes your breath for a moment, it’s a fully done nursery with everything a baby could need and more. There’s a pretty crib, a bassinet, a rocking chair even, it’s painted a baby pink with little teddy bears lining the ceiling. 

“I know, I went overboard, I don’t know how to not go overboard when I do things? And I want the best for her? I know you probably won’t be-”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

You smile then, placing a hand over his where it rests on Reign’s lap. “It’s beautiful, it’s so beautiful.”

He exhales in relief then. “Yeah!?”

You’re giggling now. “Yeah.”

“Mommy likes it, yes!” His enthusiasm is infectious, it’s the first time you think you’ve truly been light hearted in so long, as he places her gently in the crib. “I had my mom go crazy and paid for it to get set up, really I did nothing but pay out.”

“It’s the most thoughtful thing in the world.” You hug him then on impulse, before pulling back shyly, your eyes meet each other, his hands on your waist. “But how will she go back to my shitty place? I hope she doesn’t get bougie.”

“I want her bougie.” You laugh again softly, she’s playing with the little ovehanging baby mobile, she’s enamored by the hanging stars. You watch him lean over the crib then. “She’s a princess, you know.”

You can’t take it then, you have to step out, shaking now, struggling to catch your breath, when Satoru steps out with you, looking at you with concern. Your feelings of him are utterly overwhelming, the beauty of Satoru fawning over his little girl puts these thoughts in your mind, of being a real family. As someone who didn’t have a father, and didn’t think Reign would, the hope filling you is so much.

“I got too excited.” He nervously admits, leaning against the wall next to you and rubbing the back of his neck. “I want her to have everything, if my mom didn’t talk me out of it she’d already have a pony.” You snort then, even through your tears. “There, a little laugh.”

“It’s not you, this is amazing, it’s just… I planned my life, I planned it all out with her, alone. And now… we won’t be? I don’t know how to process it, how to really believe it. But I’m so happy she’ll have it.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you against him into a big hug, arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you against his chest. “I didn’t think I’d have this, a baby girl? I know what you mean, it’s not what I pictured.”

“Exactly. And… maybe I enjoy this too much.” You look up at him now, his lips quirked up at the side.

“Me too much?” He raises a brow.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Satoru leans down close, when the doorbell rings, he exhales then, laughing softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “So I may have invited my mom. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You are trying to calm your nerves when you meet her, long silky white hair and bright blue eyes. It's clear those genetics are strong, she surprises you by wrapping you in a hug.

“Where’s this grandbaby of mine?”

Soon she’s melting over Reign like the two of you have been, and Satoru’s made you both hot cocoa, family isn’t something you’ve really had, and to feel this comfortable and good? It’s almost like some dream, as you all are so cozy inside, and Reign is just getting fawned over, giving you a little bit of a reprieve until she’s hungry.

“I have a bottle, do you wanna feed her, Satoru?”

“I can do that?” You smile at him, nodding, and soon he’s got a bottle in her mouth, you position his arm just so as his mom watches you both with a knowing smile on her face.

“You know, I could always babysit sometime. For you two… to go out.” You both blush now, looking up at her.

“Go out?” You almost squeak the words out, sipping your cocoa now that it's gone just a little cold, enamored with watching Satoru.

“Yes, go out. Parents need time away.”

“We’re not… um…”

“I’d take you out.” Satoru says softly, and you feel those butterflies in your tummy going wild.

“Yeah?” You manage to ask, failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” He smirks a bit, then Reign coughs. “What’s wrong!?”

“She needs to burp, calm down.” You lift her against your chest, patting her back now. “This is what you’ll do, it’s just some air in her tummy.”

“Oh thank god.”

“You three are precious.” His mom checks her phone then. “I have a meeting, but I hope to see much more of you both.”

“Me too Mrs. Gojo!” She smiles, planting a kiss on Reign’s head then yours before she leaves. “She’s amazing!?”

“I know, right? She was dying to meet her.” His hand rubs Reign’s little back, so big it’s as long as her almost, his other arm resting over the couch, brushing against you when he leans closer. “Thank you for having her.”

“Oh, Satoru… I just wish…”

“Yeah, me too.” He inhales and exhales, his eyes swimming with emotions. “I wish badly. I hate that I missed her coming into the world.”

“I’m so sorry… but I swear, she’ll not remember that, she won’t remember it at all.”

“But you remember.”

“Satoru, it's not your fault, don’t dare blame yourself.” He sighs now, his hand dropping off Reign to rest on your thigh over the thin black tights you wore.

“I don’t want you working yet. Will you let me help?”

“Satoru…” You shake your head. “You are not going to pay my bills.”

“Then stay with me? Stay the year with your baby… with our baby, please. She should have her mom home.”

“It’s too much of an offer, I can’t just live here! We aren’t even…”

“If you hate it I’ll get you your own place. I promise. Just let me take care of you… of both of you?” You stand, turning away, Satoru’s hands grip the sides of your arms as he leans close. “Please think about it.”

“I’m not a charity case, Satoru. I’m okay where I am.”

“I know that, okay? But I missed all of the pregnancy, I didn’t get to help with any medical bills, anything. Please just…” He turns your chin to face him, his glossy lips ever tempting as they hover just above yours. “Please think about it.”

“It’s overwhelming, okay?” He nods then, you lean back just so, feeling his lithe body against your back, leaning back just so.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

“Satoru…” He wraps his arm around you, resting his chin on your head. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“I want to.” For you and Reign, but Satoru can tell your pride is getting in the way, and he can tell you’re conflicted. “Give it time, no rush, yeah?”

*****

After a few weeks of constantly being at Satoru’s house, you damn near almost live there. You come over at about the same time Satoru’s off work, and he learns more and more about Reign every single day. He’s learned how to change diapers, how to feed her, and learns what certain cries mean. Reign rolls over for the first time on her mat and you’ve never seen anyone more excited than Satoru.

He takes selfies with her and they are Insta famous, he has Reign’s name painted on the nursery door, though she tends to still sleep in the room you stay in, with her little bassinet. Satoru’s had you in the guest room, but what you don’t know is at night he checks on you both, he kisses Reign’s forehead and tucks you in, he watches how cute the both of you are.

He watches you with Reign, ever attentive, and it’s about the time you’d have to go back to work, he can feel how devastated you are thinking of it, when you all are quietly sitting in the living room, having nibbled on takeout as Reign sleeps. You take a breath then, looking at the man you’re falling deeper for every day, every moment you spend with him.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah, sweets?” His little nickname always does something to you.

“I would love to stay with you, to stay home with her for a few more months, if you’re sure it’s still okay?”

Satoru jumps up then, picking you up and spinning you, you’re laughing breathlessly as he eases you down, and you’re flush against his body. Despite the endless times you’ve ached to kiss him, to do so much more, you both have been a little apprehensive, you both don’t know what’s okay, what’s not. You both feel far, far too much and are afraid of it.

“You’ll stay!?”

“I’ll stay. But I’ll cook, and help pick up, and-”

“Shh. Just stay.” He’s cupping your face, he’s so close you can almost taste his sweet breath, your lashes lowering over your eyes now. “I want you with her, let me do that for you? And… I want you here. All the time I… miss you when you’re not.”

“Are you giving me puppy dog eyes!?” You demand with a grin, and he pouts his lips.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“It’s working.” You don’t stop yourself, not this once, when you lean up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his, and when you do, the eclectic shocks shoot from his lips, it’s just like that night a year ago, but more intense. You pull back nervously, looking away. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No.” Is all he says, pulling you back, bending low and taking over your lips, he moves them gently over yours, big hands taking over your waist and dragging you closer, mouth opening, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips. Your mouth opens in a gasp, and then his tongue delves inside it. “Don’t apologize for kissing me.”

“Satoru…” He’s exhaling against your lips, kissing you again, soon your back is on the couch, and he’s moving over you, his hand trailing your waist, up to your breasts, your hands clinging to his shirt, gripping the smooth fabric as you fall apart from his kisses. They’re sweet, intense kisses, slow like he wants to savor every moment with you, growing more and more insistent.

He pulls up, just looking at you now, your thighs are around his hips, you feel that ache between them, not just physically either, you crave more and more of him, and you have been since you saw him again. You both just look at each other, speaking without words as he slips up your top, and you yank it nervously, earning his frown, stopping your hand.

“Not ready yet?” He asks, you shake your head.

“You won’t… I’m not… I don’t like my tummy anymore.” You admit softly, tears threatening to spill, Satoru lifts your shirt then, leaning down and running his thumb across the little stretch marks Reign left.

“Well, baby girl… I love your tummy. Should I show you?” You shake your head, breaths coming quicker and quicker now. “You had my baby, you carried her for me, and she left you more beautiful than before.”

“Oh, Satoru…” He kisses your tummy then, and desire shoots straight through you, your hands finally entwining in that silky hair you’ve craved to feel for so long, he’s looking at you under lidded eyes, pressing kisses lower.

“You’re beautiful everywhere. I bet it was sexy pregnant.”

You giggle just a bit, making Satoru smile against your skin, fingers tugging down your pants then, earning a little cry that makes his cock so hard it hurts. He’s been dying to taste you on his tongue, to feel you around his fingers, watch that pretty face in pleasure again, but he’s tried to take his time, tried to focus on Reign, but the thing is, he loves both of you.

He’s in love with you.

The way you move, the way you smile, the way you are with his baby? How your eyes brighten when Reign did something new, how you blushed when he gave you a compliment. But also, how your hips are shifting now, how your eyes are getting lidded, dilated with desire, and how the little silver lines run across where his baby was inside you.

“Satoru… that feels too good I… mmm!” You cry out quietly when his fingers find your slick heat, finding you drenched already.

“You this easy for me?” He asks, you want to retort, something witty, but you can’t, you just gasp out in pleasure when he’s got your pants off, and he’s parting your thighs, long fingers pressing in the plush of your skin as he stares at your pussy. “Fuck you’re pretty.”

You’re trembling as you’re fully bare in front of him, his breath on your clit alone makes you jerk, he places a teasing flick of his tongue right on your clit, you cover your mouth to hide the pathetic moan. He flicks his tongue again, thumps slipping the plump lips of your sex apart, watching the wetness pool out of your little hole, he catches it with his tongue, groaning as he tastes you.

Your hands clutch his hair so hard you’re tugging at his head, eyes rolling back in your skull, biting your lip hard not to make too much noise. He looks up at you, slinking his tongue all the way up your dripping pussy now, from your hole to your clit, groaning as you drip all over his mouth, his face.

“It tastes as good as I remember.” He whispers, enjoying that ruby red blush on your cheeks. “You’re so cute like this, sensitive?”

“You’re torturing me.” He chuckles, the hot air making you whimper, a sound that shoots desire through him. “Please…”

“Please what, pretty?” He casually licks you once more, leisurely as if he has all the time in the world, tilting his head just so to flick the underside of it, watching the tiny little clit twitch. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Make me cum, please.” He moans then, devouring your pussy, his movements less teasing and precise and sloppy, now, lapping up all the juices that pour as you cry out in pleasure, hips bucking up for more, then you feel his fingers sliding in and out of you now, pressing in deep, finding that spongy spot that makes you shiver.

“There you go, you’re clenching me s’good. Can’t wait to feel you around me.” He murmurs, curling his fingers just so,  your legs are shaking so hard, you’re falling off that edge, chest rising and falling with your breaths.

“M-gonna… Toru…” Satoru moans now, the sound vibrating against your heat, he looks at you then, eyes dilated and dark, leaning up, his chin coated in your slick, shimmering.

“Cum for me, baby.” At that he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around it, humming and making you shatter under him.

You come so hard you see stars bursting, eyes rolled back, your mouth in the most slutty O as you gasp out, you’re arching off the couch, his name a quiet little broken scream in the quiet room. You feel his smug grin against your sensitive bud, as he nips at it then with his teeth, making you jerk and whimper, leaning back to study your clenching little hole.

“There you go, so good for me, hmm?” He coles those words, slipping up you now, sliding his finger up and down your drippy slit, kissing you, letting you taste yourself off him.

“Need you. All of you.” You murmur then, he pauses his kisses, looking down at you, and emotions surge and mix with the pleasure, the insane need for him to fill you, over and over again.

“If we do, I want more than just… co parenting. I want more than just sex. I want…” Satoru gulps then, cupping your face carefully, your hand comes to grip his wrist, thumb brushing over his strong, fluttering pulse.

“I want more too.” You admit, swallowing nervously, as one of your hands rests on his chest.

“I want you to be my girl.” You’re crying then, nodding eagerly at his sweet and pure words, when he’s kissing you again, salty tears mixing with your taste. “Will you be? My girl?”

“I would love to be yours.” He moans again, standing then, helping you up, your arms wrap around his neck as he carries you, your lips don’t separate when he backs into his bedroom.

“Want you in my bed, every night.” He whispers, easing you onto the floor to stand, slipping your top off and revealing your breasts which sway just a bit, you eagerly unbutton his shirt, showing every inch of his chiseled, perfect frame. You gasp when you finally see him, fingertips trailing across sculpted muscles.

“You’re perfect, Satoru.” You whisper in wonder, and he cups your face again, kissing you deeply, a kiss so beautiful it ruins you forever, Satoru has ruined you forever, you know now what you knew that night deep down. “It’s only you.”

“It’s only you. You’re perfect.” You gasp as he picks you up again, laying you on the bed, you’re eagerly tugging on his pants, gasping when you see his huge, veiny length, something you’d had inside of you bud hadn’t even seen. You stroke him, earning his soft whine, he pins your wrist above your head.

“Lemme touch him, please?” You beg, earning both your hands pinned, as you laugh breathlessly.

“No way, I’m not busting quick, I’ve waited too long for this.” You giggle, earning his pretty glare. “I’m not.”

“You didn’t bust quick that night?”

“Yeah, I did.” You shake your head at him, gasping when he’s pressing against your entrance, he tenses, muscles flexing, when suddenly you both hear it, Reign on the baby monitor. “Shit.”

“Shit…” You both stay completely silent. “Maybe she’ll stop?”

“I sure hope so. Need to get you pregnant again.”

You blink in shock now, as Reign quiets. “Huh!?”

Satoru grins, a devious fucking grin, as he presses your legs apart, one over his shoulder, sinking in as you bite your lip, so filled by him, trembling beneath him as you roll your hips. “I need to see you pregnant, gonna be so fucking sexy.”

“You’re insane, Satoru Gojo.” You gasp when he shoves his length fully inside you, bottoming out and you’re so full you can’t breathe, clinging to his bare shoulders desperately as he moans, feeling your walls flutter.

“You didn’t know that yet? I’ll have to show you, sweetheart.” He’s fucking you then so good, thrusting in and out of your slick cunt, which is drooling all the way down his veiny length. He’s smirking as he rolls his hips just so, watching you start to come apart. “You love it, huh? Cock filling you so deep?”

“Please…” His leaking tip kisses your cervix, you shudder under him, cumming so hard you can’t tether yourself anymore, and he revels in it, in your pretty face all scrunched up, all reddened as you cry out.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself? Want me to fucking fill you?”

“Please…”

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” The words short circuit what’s left of your brain, as Satoru leans back on his knees, hands slipping up your body, gripping your breasts, which have little droplets of milk. You whimper, trying to cover them. “Ah-ah.”

He leans forward, sucking them then, you’re so sensitive you scream, thanking everything Satoru has a huge home and that the baby couldn’t hear anything, because the sounds he writhes out of you are filthy. He leans up, licking the little droplets off and grinning again, possessively gripping your throat, hovering over you as his cock slides in again.

“God, even that’s sweet. All of you. Sweet and slutty.” He huffs, you’re kissing him desperately, nails pressing against his scalp as they grip his hair. “My girl, you’re all mine now, hmm?”

“Wanna be… y-your girl.” You whisper, ending him as your cunt gushes down on him, as he feels the tight muscles grip him like a vise, he eases back, shoving your legs up then in a mating press, every instinct making him crave to make you his again. Cum in you, fill you, make you pregnant. “Toru… I haven’t… not a lot of… exper-ah!”

“That’s alright baby, I’ll fuck you so good, all you gotta do is take it, yeah? Look so fucking pretty f’me.” The sweet, emotional and cute Satoru is now feral, psychotic and possessive, his eyes so blue they hurt to look at, but you’re nodding eagerly. You’ve never been fucked like this, not even close, but he assures you, over and over that you can take him. “That’s right, gonna take all of me.”

Your thighs are smushed against your breasts as Satoru fucks you harder, perfect strokes that hit every spot, spots you can’t even figure out, the ridge of his cock hitting again and again until you’re close, already having cum twice. You’re sobbing under him as he leans his weight on your thighs, folding you in half and going deeper, deeper, bottoming out.

His balls slap heavy on your ass, so full and ready to pump his load in your eager hole, you’re a mess, tears on your cheeks, mumbling incoherently, pussy drooling and loosening more and more. You take him, all of him greedily then, as he slows just a bit, leaning up to press your thighs even higher, watching his cock disappear as your cunt sucks him in.

“Oh look, she’s taking me s’good, she wants it huh? You want it, greedy, slutty pussy.” He’s talking to your pussy, but you also can’t care, not when you’re so close, incoherently whining. “Can’t talk, sweetheart?”

“Gonna… cum… again… Satoru!” He moans as you speak his name, using a forearm to press your legs up, angling his cock just so, shoving deep as he presses a thumb to your clit, ending you utterly.

“There you go, cum on lemme fuckin feel her milk me.” He huffs, husky voice hoarse as your orgasm washes over you, full body, you’re shaking and sobbing as your arousal pours down him, making him tense, gasping. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum in me. Cum in me, please.” You beg weakly, and Satoru does then, full mating press, pumping all his cum so deep, filling you to the brim as he leans down, whimpering with you, tongues sloppy as you kiss.

“Feel s’perfect… gonna make you a mommy again, yeah?” You nod weakly, cunt throbbing as he pumps more and more, nails pressing into his back as you both ride your orgasms out, until you’re sensitive messes. “F-fucking… b-baby…”

“Satoru, g-god…” He is exhaling, easing your sore thighs down then, pulling out and watching the mess that pours from your pussy, a mix of his cum and yours, he grins at it.

“You’re so messy, hmm?” He shoves two fingers in your cunt, pushing his cum back in as you scream out. “Aww, you can’t take it baby?”

“Too much, ngh!” Satoru slips his fingers out, sucking on them and moaning, before repeating it, shoving them in your mouth, you moan as you suck them greedily, both kissing again, a tangled mess of limbs.

“Taste us together, god.”

“So yummy.” He kisses you again, again, again, as you struggle to come back down, heart still racing. “My god…”

“Yeah, holy fuck.”

“You’re like… you have a breed kink like bad.” He snorts then, kissing up the side of your neck.

“Could it have to do with the fact that my girl is gorgeous with my baby? And I’d love to really see her pregnant?”

“I want you there too. I do, even if this is insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, first we have a baby, then we move in together? What next, a first date?”

“You know… yes. Mom offered?”

You giggle at him. “So is this you asking me on a date!?”

“Mmhmm, with my cum pouring out. Wasting it, tsk tsk.” He starts kissing down your body again, when Reign cries, this time loudly. “Ugh.”

“Ugh.” You agree, brushing back his hair when he kisses your tummy. “You make me feel beautiful, Satoru.”

“You are.” He says simply, kissing you deeply, helping you up. “Most beautiful girls there are.”

“I…” You almost say it, but you’re still so afraid, those words on the tip of your tongue. Satoru smiles as if he knows.

“Go check on her.”

“Yeah.” You are soon all dressed, and Reign is no longer crying once she gets swaddled, her binky in her mouth. Satoru comes behind you, arms wrapping you tightly and pulling you against him.

“So, that date?”

“Mmm, got plans already?” You look back at him, as he holds you so sweetly in the quiet room.

“Yeah, the spa you never went to, brat.”

“Oh! Yes, let’s.”

*****

Satoru Gojo and you have had a baby, then moved in, and then you had your first date, which was both of you getting pampered, you were giggling when Satoru kept eating the cucumbers meant for his eyes, when he moved the masseuse because he got jealous of him. “My girl, I’ll rub your back.”

“So jealous.” You tease, but you then sigh in pleasure as his big hands rub your body just so.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I don’t ever wanna lose my girls.” You pause then, leaning up, breasts revealed as you’re just wearing a little towel. But Satoru’s eyes are serious, when he gently rubs his hands down to the back of your hips.

“You’re not losing us.” He’s kissing you, leaning over you in the spa, when he whispers in your ear.

“Let’s go.”

In the backseat of Satoru’s driver’s car, headed back home, you and Satoru devour each other, his hands on your rib cage, his lips on your nipples. Your head falling back, arching up for more, never, ever able to get enough. He’s filling you again, and you’re soaking him again, he’s fucking up into you one moment, one moment you’re controlling it.

A push and pull, a back and forth, endless kisses, until he’s filled you up again, whispering the lewdest things, picturing you as his wife, picturing you pregnant again, but the words are coming out as muffled, dirty words that don’t match. And you feel the same, you think the same, but you’re too fucked out to speak, too lost in everything that is Satoru Gojo.

That night, Reign is up and down, and you’ve just given her a bath, singing to her and cradling her. Satoru watches you, emotions catching in his throat, as a sliver of moonlight darts through the windows, illuminating the faces of the two girls he adores. Reign is being fussy, huffing, but then she hears you sing, and she’s calming, drifting off just so.

You catch him watching you, smiling at him, laying her back down gently. Satoru leans over, brushing a thumb across her cheek, as she sleeps so peacefully. “I love you, dumpling.” He murmurs to her, your heart aches at his words, as you repeat them softly to her, and Satoru wraps an arm around you.

“I love both of you.” You look at him then, so nervous, but he exhales, kissing you softly, feeling tears fall from his eyes, pulling back to see you’re trembling. “I know it’s a lot, but you have to know that I love you. I love both of you so much it hurts.”

“I love both of you.” Your heart hammers in your chest, as a hand slips up your back, and he leans down, blue eyes swirling with tears. “I’ll take care of you both, always. I… I’m complete now, with you both. I can’t ever lose you.”

“Satoru, never. I never want to be without you again.” Your hushed whispers are followed by sweet kisses, until you both close the door quietly, and Satoru has you picked up in his arms, effortless as you hold onto him, resting your foreheads against each other. “I’m home, here.”

“You are home, here. Want you to have my last name, both of you. Please.” You nod, sniffling as he carries you, kissing you desperately, pressing you against the door of his room once you’re back inside. “Need you to have my last fuckin’ name.”

“We will, Satoru. We’ll all be Gojos, hmm?” He grins so big then, easing you down and turning you, vivid memories of that night filling your mind, overwhelming your senses. Your head falls back as he kisses down your neck, slipping your shorts to the side to find you.

“So ready f’me?” You nod weakly. “Good, need to have a whole fucking clan of Gojos, yeah? Gonna give it to me?”

“Mnh, yes.”

You would give Satoru anything, and finally every piece that seemed so out of sorts is in place, as you found something you didn’t know was missing, and he found a family he didn’t know he had. As he eagerly works you so well that night again, you also know you want to give him more.

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Rest tagged in comments!

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62133598

[princessbellecerise]

Happily Ever After

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you

warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you

The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you

Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option

Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him

After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral

Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational

Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?

He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you

Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else

You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no

He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge

“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”

That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated

As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door

No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible

You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that

It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him

Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option

If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane

You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else

The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen

There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think

Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes

When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his

He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony

Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes

Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care

Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works

A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works

You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true

A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning

You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms

When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father

When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood

Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision

After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation

As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course

But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is angry when your father tells him no

And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you

In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond

Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen

You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily

He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed

Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse

You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan

He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that

Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt

It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you

You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded

All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation

You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach

Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below

Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father

He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing

Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused upon being told no

He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself

After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary

In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says

Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife

And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold

He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment

He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again

He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you

Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you

He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen

If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you

He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme

He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for

With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives

In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies

He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself

And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years

Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that

And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you

He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon

Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you

The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing

He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back

It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars

There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount

As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face

Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word

“Dracarys.”

Lucerys Velaryon

Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal

It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life

Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what

Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan

He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again

And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night

With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring

You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married

Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child

Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow

And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your

concerned father

They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?

And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress

Almost

You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes

“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly

You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins

“Y/N is with child.”

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge

Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really

For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead

He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you

The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to

The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker

He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss

They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man

You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles

You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree

After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat

He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision

[chleem]

Rest of my life

One shot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: babysitting drew’s niece leads to the realization that you’re the one for him.  

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Warnings: so sweet u get cavities

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Which girl did you knock up?” 

Is the first thing you say upon entering Drew’s apartment, your eyes landing on Drew, who has a baby securely strapped against his stomach in a white carrier, the baby looking over at you with doe eyes. 

Drew freezes for a second, then shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sets a large bag down on the kitchen table. "Oh, y’know, some girl I met on set."

There’s a reason why you and Drew are perfect for each other; the playful banter comes so naturally between you two that it feels like breathing, like there’s no awkwardness in this situation; finding Drew with a baby you’ve never seen before. 

Although, this baby looks oddly familiar. 

“Remember Lils?” Drew asks, as you walk over to him, setting your own bag on the table as well. 

Your eyes light up at the name, recalling the times Drew would show you pictures of his niece. “Oh hi,” you immediately pitch your voice higher, making it soft and playful. The baby, with her big, curious eyes, reaches out her tiny hand, and before you even know it, she’s grabbing onto your finger. 

Her little grip is surprisingly strong, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. “She grew so big,” you comment, looking up at Drew. 

He’s got a soft smile on his lips. “I’know, and I got her for the whole day.”

Your raise an eyebrow playfully at him, “I thought we’re going to the beach today.”

“Yeah, we are,” he emphasizes on that word, his eyes bouncing back between him and Lil. 

Lil lets go of your hand, so you cross your arms at Drew. You roll your eyes, yet the grin on your face gives away your amusement. “Fine. I won’t rob you of your uncle-niece time.”

A chuckle escapes Drew’s lips, and he brings you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lil says it’s okay for you to be there,” his voice, low and playful, as he plants a kiss on your jaw. “Third wheel, you okay with that?”

“Delightful,” you try to sound annoyed at that idea, but really, you looked forward to it. 

Originally, it was a beach date with Drew, but his sister must’ve had some emergency, leading to the sudden babysit. You had no idea that it was going to turn out like this, but you don’t mind. 

Besides, it gives you a chance to see what uncle Drew is like. 

“Aww, don’t be jealous,” he teases, rubbing your elbow, a habit he’s grown into since knowing you. 

“I could never compete with this girl,” you smile down at Lil, whose lips slowly forms an O. You coo at her, playing with her little adorable fingers.

Drew glances down at his watch, snapping you out of the little world you’ve absorbed yourself with Lil in only a few seconds. “Hotdog stand might close. Let’s go.”

“I’m trying the taco one!” You happily chirp, remembering how the last time you went there, a long argument between the two of you resulted in you getting the pizza flavored hot dog. 

“Alright, alright,” Drew assures, taking both of the bags off the table. 

You make an attempt to grab at least one bag from him, but he declines, carrying it all the way to the car himself. 

——

Unknowingly, the whole day at the beach has passed. 

Drew had been so focused on spending time with his niece, he didn’t even notice the way the sky changed. One moment, they were splashing in the shallow waves, building sandcastles, the next, the sun was dipping low.

He walks back to the beach with hotdogs in his hands; buying the snacks now since the crowd has disappeared. 

He replays scenes of today in his mind, thinking about how easy it’s been today. How effortless it felt, spending time with you and Lil. He’d watched you interact with his niece all afternoon—how you encouraged her to explore the sand, showing her the little crabs skittering along the shoreline etc. 

And now, as he makes his way back, he can’t shake the image of you laughing with Lil, your face lighting up when the baby made a funny sound or reached out for you.

He reaches the blanket that the two of you had spread out earlier on the sand, and he glances over your shoulder, expecting to see you playing with Lil. 

Instead, he freezes. 

There you are, holding his niece in your arms. Lil’s fast asleep, her little body relaxed against your chest. 

Drew’s first thought is how cute his niece is. 

His eyes then drift over to you; And that’s when it hits him.

The realization of this moment, the quiet way you’re holding his baby niece, strikes him. His heart skips a beat as he watches you, a quiet warmth flooding his chest. 

The sight of you with her, so natural, so right, feels more profound than anything he expected.

What is this feeling? He thinks.

He tries to shake it off. It’s not just about Lil. It’s about you, the way you make everything feel so simple, so easy. He never expected to see you like this, to see you so gentle, so present.

Is this what love feels like? He doesn’t know. But in that moment, staring at the two of you, something in him clicks. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it’s there—this pull, this feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything he thought he wanted was right here in front of him.

“Drew?” 

Your voice is gentle and soft as you call out for him, afraid to wake the baby up. 

Your gaze meets his, and for a second, the world feels smaller. His heart skips again, mind racing around as he scrambles for words in his mind. 

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out, sitting down beside you. He’s careful with his movements, even when handing you your hotdog to your free hand. His lips curl into a soft smile,  almost shy, “she’s out cold, huh?”

He watches as you completely ignore his words, biting down on the hotdog you’ve been waiting for for the whole day. His smile grows; his mind reminded of how easy it is to be around you. It’s not that you’ve said much or done anything extraordinary—just the way you seem to savor the simple things, like food, time spent together—it draws him in every time.

“Good?” Drew asks, teasing hinted in his voice, yet his eyes soften as he waits for your answer. 

“Strange. The pizza flavor’s better,” you comment through chews. 

Laughter erupts in his chest, making you look confusingly at him. You swallow, looking at him with doe eyes. “Let me take her,” he says, his hands reaching for his niece. 

You let him, mainly because of how hungry you are. The exchange is smooth; he now holds Lil in his arms, and you hold onto the two hotdogs, eating away one of them. 

“Y/n?”

You quickly finish the bite, humming at Drew continue talking. He’s looking at you with a soft gaze, almost smitten. He calls for your name, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want a bite?” You ask, filling in the silence. 

Drew chuckles, and with his free hand, he pulls you by the back of your neck closer to him. He kisses you, slow and soft. You relax under his touch, letting the warm and bubbly feeling flow through you. 

You eventually pull away, needing to catch your breath. Drew’s lips are apart as he stares at you; the look in his eyes making it hard to steady your heartbeat. 

For seconds that felt like minutes, silence lingers between you two, eyes locked into each others’ as if any move, would disturb the calmness of this moment. 

Well, the moment is disturbed, because the smell of poop enters the air, as well as the sound of crying. 

Lil's awake, and in a stinky emergency.

You’re the first to pull away, chuckling as you glance down at Lil. “Shit.”

“Yup,” he purses his lips. You get ready to put the hotdogs down, wanting to help change her diapers, when Drew stops you. “I’ll do it.”

“Do I even have the appetite anymore?” You joke, the smile reappearing on Drew’s lips after hearing that. 

“When do you not?” He comments, setting Lil down and reaching for the diaper bag. 

You hit his arm playfully again, laughter coming out of you. You turn and look out onto the ocean waves, putting the hotdogs down to the side.

This moment right here? You want to remember it always. Remember this beach, this adorable little baby, this hotdog (just important as everything else), and this man, that you’ve found yourself to rely on more than you should. 

You hope Drew feels the same way too; that this moment right now, will forever be engraved in your heart. 

Little did you know; it's already engraved in his, as the moment he fell in love with you. 

The moment he realized, that you’re who he wants for the rest of his life. 

-------------------------------

word count: 1.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: my first time writing something of pure fluff...hope you enjoyed reading! i was in the mode for something sweet, craving a bf real bad T_T

and yes, im a creep that stalked his sister's ig to find the name of his niece. im sorry im sorry im sorry

elevator | other

[leyavo]

Wife/girlfriend series, I wanted to do some more for the other TF 141 guys after doing Ghost’s, Gaz & Soap. John Price is much older than the others and a bit set his ways….

[masterlist] [Wife/Gf masterlist]

Price is on his third wife, you.

The last one bled him dry in the divorce, but that still didn’t put him off marriage.

His family not bothered to get to know you as much as the first and second wife. As if they know you’ll get fed up with him and his ways.

You can tell why he hasn’t had any luck with women. The man is terrible at doing laundry, grumbles to himself instead of talking and smokes like a chimney. Set in his ways, he finds it hard to break away from it.

“Breath of fresh air, darling,” he says to you as you chuck his dirty laundry at him.

“Clean your own crap, I’m not your maid or your mother!” You snapped, taking the cigar from his lips and smushing the end into the ashtray.

John Price just kept pushing and pushing, liking that you set boundaries with him and unintentionally made him get his shit together. He loves it when you tell him what to do.

You never wanted him to change, just wanted him to get a grip on his life.

“I have a career too, I might not be a bloody captain, but what I do matters too.” You work for a social impact company, helping young kids and teens going through poverty in your county. The same kindness John loves as he watches you interact with the people around you.

You were once that kid, struggling to get by and caring for your mother. The one thing you didn’t want, was for everything to fall on you like it did as a kid. You’re firm with it, telling John exactly how it felt. How his actions made you feel.

Well you did break up briefly, only for him to come crawling back. He still has his moments, a little mopey and lazy whenever he’s back from a long mission, but that’s normal.

He likes that you understand his vulnerability, likes the way you whisper that he is safe and protected whenever a nightmare tears him awake. It’s small quiet moments where he loves you most. The brush of your fingers over his knuckles or you palm over his chest as he tries to catch his breath. The way you giggle as his beard and moustache tickle your neck as he kisses you there.

And John gives you a home, security. One thing no one else has. The reassurance that there’s always food stocked up in the fridge and a set schedule for the heating to come on when the temperature drops. That if you can’t do something he’ll help you do it. So nothing has to be on just your shoulders.

Helps you down at the soup kitchen now and again when he’s back home, cleaning all the dishes so that your hands don’t get a rash from the washing up gloves. Little things that make your heart swell.

How he learnt how to knit during the autumn, so he can help you make hats for the homeless. It helps him distress, sometimes even does it in his room back at base to wind down. Currently knitting you some socks too.

Even in charge of the laundry when he comes home, loves the scent of detergent that he grumbles when it’s discontinued and he has to get used to another.

“Bloody found it.” The first thing John says to you as he unpacks his gear. Accidentally letting slip where he was stationed and how he got the discontinued detergent in another country.

And when you ask why he can’t just let it go. “Smells like you, darling.” He’s liked it since the first time you did his washing. Reminds him of home when he puts his civilian clothes back on, always a set put to the side for him to wear home.

When you meet the guys you’re surprised about the dynamic. How John easily gets them to listen and lay down the rules before they enter the house. Shoes come off straight away etc. no smoking indoors but on the patio outside. Watch out for the two chihuahuas running about the house and check underneath the blankets before you sit on the sofa.

One particular chihuahua not moving from Simon’s lap, that he stays in the armchair for ages till the dog wakes up. Johnny and Kyle telling you the most embarrassing stories of the captain, that one time his trousers split in an important briefing and no one told him, but everyone noticed. John doesn’t mind though as he likes the sound of your laugh.

[zyafics]

can you write about rafe x sarahs bestfriend and reader keeps trying to get with rafe and he rejects her until he finally agrees and teases her around Sarah making reader nervous .. if you find a story like this LMK

truly didn't expect to write today, but ended up doing... this. hope you like it!

SOMEONE NEW | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — Rafe x Sarah's BSF!Female Reader

Content — best friend's brother, fluff, she falls first/he falls harder

Word Count — 1.1K

Song — Someone New by Hozier

“What gives?”

Rafe surprises you. Sitting on a barstool at the Tannyhill estate, you assumed when Rafe returned home, he would ignore you the way he had done all his life. For the past couple of years, you’ve harbored an embarrassing crush on him that amounted to nothing. Sure, you never outright confessed, but you assumed he knew.

He had to.

The way you always strike up a flimsy conversation during late nights in the kitchen from your sleepovers with Sarah. The way you would always try to convince Sarah to join him and his friends at parties—only to be rejected of an invitation. The way you would always search for him to fill your cup, or take you home, whenever you and the Camerons end up at the same function.

You never told him but the signs were there.

Yet, nothing happened.

After spending a summer in the Bahamas, you decided it was time to put yourself first. You changed the way you dressed, the way you style your hair, the way you put on your makeup. It wasn’t for him, it wasn’t to impress him—it was for you. A new version deserved a new update, a new way to love, and you’re pulling out all the stops.

Now, back in Kildare, you’ve resumed your presence at the Tannyhill estate. Sarah invited you over for a sleepover, but she’s currently out getting some of the snacks. Leaving you to your own device, in her house, with the return of her brother.

Whom you didn’t even realize came home.

It fucks with him.

Because he’s used to you, his little sister’s best friend, always gawking at him from across the room. Always fetching him a beer from the fridge, or blushing whenever he comes into your proximity. Neither of that has happened since your return and Rafe can’t lie and say the loss of attention hasn’t bruised his ego.

But it’s something else. Something magnetizing about the air around you. He doesn’t know if it’s the change in styles or the sudden wave of confidence you’re exuding, but it’s different, and it’s intriguing him like never before.

“What?” You ask, lips parting and releasing the chewed-up plastic straw you were sipping on. His gaze drops to the fullness of your wetted lips, the new shade of lipgloss making them appear more delicious than ever before. His heart slightly patters—what the fuck? He thinks to himself. What is going on with me?

“What’s going on with you?” He asks, and your brows pull together. They’re shaped, manicured, threaded, the way he likes his women. But what remains is that subtle dip between your brows, that boasts the look of innocence from your features, reminding him of the same naivety and shy-natured he always adored.

“What do you mean?” You say with a quiet laugh.

“You’re different,” he observes, his eyes tracing the openness of your clothes. You’re wearing a stylistic top, one revealing your navel, and a piercing on your belly button. When the fuck did you get that?

You tilt your head to the side, your doe-shaped eyes blinking at him with pure curiosity. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he admits. You shrink under this proclamation, shoulders tightening, your legs crossing on the barstool, revealing the pretty anklet on your feet, dangling, in a way that makes him imagine what they would look like over his shoulders.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip, and looking to the floor. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly.

“Not—” He pulls back, trying to find the right words. “Not in a bad way. You’re not… you.”

You blink up at him, “Like what?”

You don’t look for me anymore, he concludes, but he finds it pathetic to say. Instead, he settles with: “You’re just different.”

You scrunch your nose at his words, the way they wrinkle, it’s so adorable, he wants to cherish that sight. Rafe finds the courage to ask, “And you’re quiet. You always wanted to talk to me; did some other asshole catch your attention in the Bahamas?”

“Why do you assume they’re an asshole?”

“Most men are,”

“You included?” You ask, tilting your chin to look at him in a sort of challenge.

“Yeah,” he admits after a long silence. “I’m the worst kind.”

It makes you laugh again. In that same carefree, airy laugh that comes with ease. Something about that simple sound unwinds his shoulders, and Rafe takes in the moment as if he can stretch it on for an eternity. Fuck, he thought. What is it?

“What’s so funny?” Rafe asks, his throat suddenly dry. He needs a glass of water, but it’ll be hell before he tries to move from this spot.

“Nothing,” you say with a soft smile, “Just… Self-awareness is always a good first step.”

“So you think I’m an asshole?” He asks, stepping closer. His leg knocks at your feet, causing you to shift your position in a way that accommodates him. You still do that, Rafe recognizes, you’re still making room for him.

Good.

You bobble your head in contemplation, “I don’t think it’s a lie,”

“I can be better,” Rafe declares.

“Sure,” you drawl, unconvinced.

“I’ll be better for you,”

The words came tumbling out without a second thought, and all the presence of air is stolen from your lungs. Your eyes widen into this impossible size, filled with such valiant shock, that you’ve never demonstrated before. He almost wishes he can take back his confession.

But Sarah returns, coming into the room to break the tense air.

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” Sarah snaps, dropping two plastic bags of snacks onto the kitchen island. “Don’t you have some whore to entertain?”

Rafe drops his jaw playfully. “Don’t call your best friend that.”

”I—“ Sarah reddens from the accusation, sliding her gaze apologetically to you, but you laugh it off, gently pushing Rafe’s shoulder, and forcing a gap between you.

He hates it.

“I know,” you answer, smiling at your best friend and shaking your head softly. “He’s being an asshole."

You cut a look over to Rafe with a knowing smile like you’re sharing an inside joke, before returning your attention to your best friend. Rafe had half a mind to grab your chin and force your focus back on him—the other Cameron. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“Nope,” Sarah shakes her head, grabbing the bags with one hand and using her other one to grab yours. “Let’s go.”

You beam, radiating the same contagious joy as before, but with a new set of layers that Rafe wants to strip down and uncover. Sarah pushes him to the side and moves to the stairs, and as you’re dragged up the steps, you do something you’ve never done before.

You don’t look back.

And in that moment, he realizes, fuck, he might’ve liked you more than he was willing to admit.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[rafes-slut]

He begs you to sit on his face

Warnings: 18+ content (explicit smut), face-sitting, slight dom/sub dynamics, praise, mild overstimulation, strong language, Rafe being possessive and insistent

You weren’t sure how you even ended up here, but the way Rafe was staring up at you with his head resting on the pillows, hands gripping your thighs like he was seconds away from dragging you down onto his face, made your entire body burn.

His words from just moments ago were still ringing in your ears.

"You’ve never sat on my face."

He had said it so casually, like it was an observation he was surprised he hadn’t noticed before. And then, just as easily, he decided he was going to change that. Right now.

“Rafe, I don’t—”

“You do,” he cut you off smoothly, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your legs. “You just need a little help getting there.”

Your whole body tensed, heat creeping up your neck. The idea alone made your stomach twist in nervous knots.

"I don't wanna suffocate you," you mumbled, hands gripping your own thighs. "What if I'm too heavy? What if—"

"Jesus," Rafe groaned, tilting his head back like he was running out of patience. "You think I give a fuck? If I can’t breathe, that’s my problem. All I want is your pussy on my tongue. Right now."

Your lips parted slightly, heart stuttering at the raw demand in his tone.

"You—You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Rafe's hands suddenly flexed against your skin before he pushed down with just enough force to knock you off balance, making you gasp as you landed with your knees on either side of his head. You hovered instinctively, gripping the headboard for support, still trying to keep some of your weight off him.

He let out an impatient breath, eyes dark as they locked onto yours.

"What did I just say?"

Before you could stammer out another excuse, his grip tightened, and in one swift motion, he yanked your hips down, forcing you to fully settle on his face.

A sharp gasp ripped from your lips as you felt his mouth latch onto you without hesitation, tongue immediately delving between your folds like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“Rafe—” You barely managed to get his name out before he groaned against you, the vibrations sending a shiver straight down your spine.

His hands flexed against your thighs, keeping you locked in place as his tongue worked you over, switching between long, slow strokes and firm flicks against your clit that made your stomach tighten.

You could feel his heavy breaths against you, the way his nose brushed against your skin every time he moved deeper. It was overwhelming, dizzying—

"Fuck," you whimpered, gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turned white.

Rafe groaned again, like he was getting off on the sounds you were making, and when you tried to lift yourself slightly, still worried about putting too much weight on him, he growled against you and dragged you right back down.

"You're not going anywhere," he muttered, voice muffled. "Just take it."

His tongue moved faster, more determined, lips wrapping around your clit to suck just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. Your thighs trembled, your whole body leaning forward as you gasped at the sensation.

"Rafe—I can't—"

"You can." His voice was rough, almost possessive, and then he did something with his tongue that made your whole body jolt, back arching as a moan ripped from your throat.

He didn’t let up. If anything, he doubled down, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man who had been starved for too long, like he had been waiting for this moment since the second he met you.

Your legs shook, heat curling deep in your stomach, pressure building at an unforgiving pace.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, nails digging into the wood above you. “I—”

"Come on," he rasped, voice hoarse against your skin. "Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me."

You were done for. Completely wrecked. The way he was holding you, the way he was fucking devouring you like he couldn’t get enough—it was too much.

Your climax crashed over you hard and fast, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your whole body trembled above him. But Rafe didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. His tongue kept moving, drawing out every last aftershock until you were shaking from overstimulation, hands tangling in his hair to push him away.

He finally let you go, lips trailing lazy kisses against your inner thighs as you collapsed forward, breathless, skin burning.

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest, hands sliding up your sides as he smirked up at you.

"See?" he murmured, voice smug as hell. "Told you I could handle it."

You huffed out a shaky laugh, still struggling to catch your breath, and when you finally met his gaze, all you could see was the pure hunger still burning behind his eyes.

"Now," he continued, fingers pressing into your hips as he smirked, "get back down here. I'm not done yet."