#got lash glue in my eye

[tsireyqs]

why are lashes actually the hardest thing ever to put on girl i am fighting for my LIFE

[screampied]

‘ BIG OLE FREAK !! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso, sukuna. whipped jujutsu kaisen men who can’t last a second without you or your puśsy.

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, overstim, pussydrunk men, dumbification, ōral (f! receiving) messy eating, car sēx (geto), slight dom choso, manhandling, boob fondling, size kinks, brēeding, phone sēx (toji), fıngering, premature ejac, impact play, dirty talk, praise.

an. thank you megan thee stallion

☆ GOJO: “HE THROW A FIT WHEN I LEAVE HIM.”

“but babyyy,” satoru pouts, pink rumpled lips curling up into a frown once you start to moderater slow your hips down. “hmph. missed you all day today,” and you moan, feeling his hot breath aerate into the inner junction of your neck. he’s so touchy, he’s got two open hands pasted to your active torso as you’re being fucked dumb. as you’re bouncing on his cock, that same canorous drawn out moan that rips from your throat never fails to sound like a harmony. “fuck, don’t go. don’t leave yet. ‘m not done with my pretty girls.”

and as he babbles his pleads for you to stay a bit longer, his hands creep toward your neglected breasts. his ‘girls’ being you and your tits. so rounded and plump. your nipples were all perky and aroused. he just had to skim a fat thumb near your sensitive nubs. as you’re leisurely riding him in reverse, you let off another moan once his reddened tip thrashes repeatedly against your achy clit. “toru, ngh. you do this everytime,” and with each bounce, your brain starts to short circuit. he’s stretching you open so much that your mouth sags open. “fuck, you’re such a brat.”

“your brat, baby,” he coos, correcting you in a sweet voice against your ear. his tone was forevermore cheeky. despite how you were ferociously riding him stupid, he still had a bit of playfulness left in him. vigorously, sharp swats of loose skin smack against each other in desperate hits and you’re feeling yourself start to froth from such elated pleasure. satoru’s broad hands remain cupped on your tits before he squeezes them, licking a wet long stripe near your neck. “but god, you’re so fuckin’ hot. gonna cum jus’ from your voice, angel.”

panting, your hips swivel in a circular rotation before you roll your eyes—hovering the weight of your knees over and into his bulky thighs. “you’d cum jus’ from me breathing, satoru.”

“you know me so well, heh,” the white-haired male sucks against your tender collarbone. so sweet, but even though he’s trying to tease you he’s already about to cum. satoru presses his thumbs into your sides before groaning gruffly. “fuck, i’m not gonna last baby. s- serious.”

“you never last, ‘toru,” you mewl out sweetly, matching the intervals of his pants.

his towering cock pokes and prods in all the right spots of your cunt repeatedly. sloppy strings of slick stick and glue against his cock and your bare ass as if it was some sort of adhesive substance. you grind your hips quicker into him, watching as he leans his head into your chest. with a gasp leaving out of your pursed lips, satoru then grabs ahold of one of your breasts, merrily popping it into his mouth. “ngh, satoru.” you whine, feeling your tender nipple get fondled by his warm damp tongue. within seconds—his licks turn into sucks and his eyes close, savoring the tasteless taste of your breast in his mouth.

with the way you’re frantically bouncing on his lap, you’re barely even steady anymore and he has to hold your tit in place so it can stay in his mouth without slipping out. satoru doesn’t mind though, as long as he gets a good taste.

your knees continue to dig into his thighs as he’s sucking on each of your tits — you whimper, watching as his pretty snowy white lashes flutter close. he’s got the most pussy-drunken grin curving against his face, faint dimples making an appearance near the crevices of his lips. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but wrap an arm around him, holding him close. “s- so good,” he whines, briefly removing his mouth from your plump mounds. with low half-lidded eyes, you watch as strands of thin spit depart away from his lips. he’s so messy, and yet he doesn’t care. satoru catches you staring before he licks near your chin real slow and seductive like. “i know ‘m pretty baby but i didn’t say you could s- stop riding m— fuck.”

he gets crudely cut off by you wrapping a hand around his slim throat, quickening your bouncy hips. satoru moans out a slutty moan and his abs as if on cue, clench and tighten. everything’s so good, he feels like he’s about to break with the way you ride him. he’s in love.

“h- hey, that’s kinda kinky,” he sheepishly says, his cock still thrusting in and out of you. satoru’s just laid back, allowing you to do all the work with your unpredictable hips. you looked so good like this though—straddling on top of him, gradually choking him. he had literal heart eyes in his pupils and your actions only made him ten times more whipped. “shit.”

but you let off a moan once he reached a certain spot after a while. it’s abrupt, and you turn dimwitted almost immediately. satoru ends up getting much closer before you though, because you can tell purely from his body language. with the way your ass circles and throws itself around his pelvis, he’s already done for. that recoil of yours could make anyone hungry for more. “fuck, ‘toruuuu,” you hiss his name, the crude skin slapping of both frail limbs making you bite the inside of your cheek. he’s holding both of your hips before with the rough clashing of rutting bodies, he whines. satoru doesn’t realize he’s cumming until you actually start to feel it pour into you.

it shoots quick into your womb, velvety ropes that make you bite your lip. it’s so so much that you feel hot spurts of it dribble down between your inner thighs. satoru’s panting heavily against your ear, ivory brows curling up together and he’s always got such the prettiest orgasm face.

his mouth remains open and a bit of drool seeps out the cracking corners. you kiss near his swollen lips as he’s dumping yet another load into you. “ughhh,” he shivers, two big hands squeezing your ass for comfort. satoru feels a slimy wad of his cum trickle past your folds and coat onto his base and he stares at it, then at you. he’s got the most feral look in his eyes before he lets off a bashful whimper. “h- have my kids, please.”

☆ TOJI — “AIN’T NOBODY FREAK LIKE ME.”

“c’mon, babygirl. put ‘er on the phone. let me listen,” toji purrs, his voice on the other end of the line raspy yet staticky.

as you sit up on the comforter with your legs prettily sprawled out, you were heavily panting. you missed him, you missed him bad. toji, like usual had work. he never exactly told you what he does for a living nor did you really care to ask. but he’d be away for hours and you couldn’t help but text or call him about your little ‘situation’ whenever you tried to touch yourself. you try to touch yourself in the way that he does but it never works. no one’s fingers could compare to his.

“o- okay,” you swallow, using a thumb to press down against the white speaker button on your phone. pulling the speaker part of the phone down towards your sopping cunt, you grow quiet, letting him get a good listen. right away, you heard the sounds of toji’s heavy breaths. he grows quiet for a good twenty seconds and you’re growing impatient. “toji? are you still th-”

“ah ah. shut the fuck up, baby. ‘m tryna hear my girl,” and you pout, dragging your middle finger down your dribbling pussy. you were a bit overly sensitive, considering. just a few minutes ago, you ended up finishing with the help of your vibrator. his voice was so stern yet you listened anyway. toji feels a strain forming inside the heavy wranglers he wore. you’re so wet, he wishes he was there just as much as you did. toji holds the phone up to his ear before grunting. “spank her for me. tell her i’ll be there real soon.”

you let off another soft moan, bringing a gentle spank towards your weeping cunt. toji hears it all, the sharp contact of your palm that thwacks against your folds goes echoes right through the phone’s speakers. your teeth dig into your bottom lip at the brief pang of pleasure that shortly follows. “toji, please. need you, can’t do this by myself.”

“aw, that’s what you get f’r not waitin’ for me to get home anyway, little girl,” a husky voice replies. you heard the groan trying to wretch from his throat as he spoke. toji was most definitely hard, but you knew more than anything, he hated whenever you touched yourself. especially whenever he wasn’t around, he thinks it’s amusing. “sound so fuckin’ wet though. jus’ pretend y’er fingers are mine, baby.”

slumping back in frustration—you sigh, hearing a gruff cackle follow seconds later. “but i can’t, ‘s not the same, toji. you do it better.”

“damn right, babygirl,” toji snickers, and his voice pitched so deep in a way that you felt yourself throbbing. the creeping timbre that rides his tone makes your toes curl up. you need him bad, it seemed like it’s been years since he’d left but it’s only been just a few hours. by now, two fingers of yours were crumped up in your drooling cunt. you make an attempt at trying to copy how toji usually does it - swirling two fingers around the inside it reaches that spongey texture. you whimper on the phone, invading your gummy walls with twin whirling digits before your pants grow louder against the speaker. “so cute. tryin’ so hard, huh. wish toji was here to spank that pussy right, hm?”

“y- yes,” you chew on your words, chafing trembly pathetic fingers near your needy cunt. you didn’t care how dumb you sounded - you wanted toji to come home. you hadn’t even realized you were now flipped over, grinding against your pillow. technically, his pillow — you were laid on his side of the bed for a reason. in hot sharp breaths, you hold the phone up to your mouth, letting off another elongated moan. toji huffs at your sweet sounds, having to turn his volume down multiple notches due to you being so loud. “toji please, come home. ‘m gonna cum without you again.”

a sly smirk compresses against his lips before he grouses through the phone. “hm. fine, hang up ‘n gimme a sec, baby.”

you didn’t know what kind of trick he had up his sleeve but you hang up. you’re panting so much, it’s almost as if you some kind of dog in hear. your fingers that remain helplessly buried in your cunt felt like they were starting to grow numb. once your thumb presses against the button to end the call, the room suddenly goes quiet.

but abruptly, the front door opens and it’s toji.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused on how he got here so quick but right as you were about to greet him with a hug, he pokes your forehead. “not so fast, baby. y’er in trouble,” and you gasp once he goes toward you, picking you up and tossing you to lie on your chest. with a rude spank, he smacks your ass. “gonna have ‘ta discipline this sloppy pussy all over again. now now, you know the drill. ass up, face fuckin’ down.”

☆ SUKUNA — “NEED YOU TO SPIT MAKE THAT MOTHERF*CKER GLISTEN.”

“tch. can’t hear or are ya jus’ plain stupid, brat? spread ‘em,” sukuna snarls, hovering right over your body.

his dark heightened stare made you gulp - just menacingly looking at you as if you was prey. his prey. crimson red eyes bore into your pretty physique as you left off a shaky breath, slowly spreading your legs apart from him. “good girl. glad ‘ta hear you can follow directions.”

a pout stretches against your lips but that soon switches once his tongue laps against your folds. you shudder, feeling the faint spiky texture of his forked tongue flick down your sobbing cunt in small strokes. from the slit, you’re drenched and he’s been craving a taste for a while. you’re laid back against the mattress whilst your toes involuntarily curl up. when it comes to sukuna, he’s never one to waste his precious time—especially whenever it came to pussy. you let off a whimper the moment he grabs ahold of your thighs, squeezing them in place. “sukuna, fuck.”

you’re met with a rude glower as he’s positioned right between your thighs. he’s moving his head side to side as he creates a long sloppy slurp.

you feel the snapping muscles in your tummy tense as his plump lips then munch against your sensitive clit.

“fuckin’ slut. walkin’ around with a cunt this soaked,” he grumbles in a muffled tone—savoring your sweet taste entirely. your stomach curls up as he’s feasting between your thighs, button tip of his nose occasionally swiping against your slobbering slit. the edges of sukuna’s serrated nails scrap down your skin gently, leaving a few noticeable marks. if it was anything the demon loved to do—it was to mark you, claim you as his. with red eyes meeting yours once more, he growls right against your pussy. “and don’t think about hidin’ those pretty moans from me this time. i wanna hear screams this time, brat.”

“f- fuck,” you whine. using a hand to grab onto the crown of his head, you comb a few fingers through his pink tresses—already feeling the weak pangs of pleasure surge through your thighs. by any second, you just knew your weak legs were gonna collapse. sukuna’s tongue was stupid, swirling everywhere inside of your pussy before his jaw starts to lock right away. “mmm, ‘kuna, spit on it.”

your cunt gets hit with an abrupt smack and you gasp, moaning from the abrupt twinge of throbs before you glance down at him.

“woman don’t tell me how to eat pussy,” he eyes you, voice full of curt. as he’s glaring at you the entire time—sukuna delves two fingers inside your sopping entrance though, scissoring his folds in your core just to watch you squirm. albeit, he does in fact spit on your pussy. it’s a stringy glossy wad, and the way it trails from his pink lips makes you convulse even quicker. sukuna’s eyes remain on you the entire time before he pulls his fingers out, slurping the new lustrous mess clean. “was gonna do that anyway, little girl.”

you almost giggle from his irritation before he playfully bites your clit — you whine, yanking his unkempt strands forward and he groans. “easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he murmurs, and as he pulls his head up a bit for air, you glance at the slick sheet of your own juices streaming down his chin. so pretty, it’s got its own kind of shine. to think that’s coming all from you, you were drenched.

“sorry,” you timidly utter, slumping back against the plump pillows. sukuna rolls his eyes at you in response, creating tender kisses against your soddened folds. with the way your thighs were trembling, it was adorable. you couldn’t stay still to save your life. he was sucking everything out of you, vacuuming all of your juices with just his mouth. the slurps were so lewd and loud that it bounced off the walls. “ohmygoddd.” you squeal, growing more whiny the harder his sucks become. sukuna’s pace of his tongue never falters and every few seconds, he spits against your pussy just to lap it right back up again.

the demon groans, staring at his mess he made. his own saliva pours down your slit and its pretty.

he drags a middle finger down, dipping it inside of your wet folds. the noises you made too were just carnal. sloshes of crying squelches reverberate through his royal chambers and he snickers. how pathetic, getting this soaked for someone like him. sukuna doesn’t care that his jaw tightens and locks. he groans, slowly trailing his tongue everywhere. he even guides it toward your puckering hole that’s drooling with slick too.

“can’t forget about her,” he groans, feeling himself get hard. sukuna most definitely had a boner, he had one every time he went down on you. “fuckin’ sloppy girl. ‘s exactly what you are,” and he moves his tongue back up toward your cunt before starting to tongue fuck you. you moan, still having a hand attached to his hair like it was velcro. “my sloppy girl though. ain’t that right?”

and before you were about to speak again, he spanks your cunt raw, spurts of your wetness slicking another glossy sheet onto his palm. sukuna’s eyes are at your pussy, barely even acknowledging your presence anymore. “keh. thought so. good girl.”

☆ NANAMI — “MY BODY ADDICTIVE IT’S DRIVIN’ HIM CRAZY.”

gentle fawn eyes ogle at you up and down as you’re prettily sprawled out on the bed. nanami can’t help but press a soft kiss onto your forehead as he’s slowly inserting himself inside.

“so perfect,” he murmurs, showering your skin with even more kisses. his lips were tender. you feel the prodding tip of his cock gradually disappear inside of your cunt before you exhale deeply. “mhm, always clamp around me so good. that’s it just relax. eyes on me, gorgeous.”

you look up at him and nanami’s face softens. teasingly, he tilts his head as he sees you biting your lip—making a cute attempt at trying to suppress any incoming moans. “hi, my love,” a gruffly sweet tone utters to you, softly gripping your chin. “there’s those pretty eyes i fell in love with.”

“k- kento,” you whimper, your back involuntarily starting to arch the further he pushes his dick inside. nanami groans, feeling himself being in brief shock by just how warm you were from the inside. whine after whine robs out of your throat before he’s trying to get you adjusted—he’s already starting to feel your slick treacle juices slabber down his lengthy base. it’s a squelching ‘pop’ once he’s finally in and his slender long fingers intertwine with yours. “fuck, kento.”

nanami shakes his head from each swear that comes from your lips. it’s cute. blond brows curl up together before he gently lifts up your leg, making it sling up over his tense right shoulder.

“my my, you’ve got quite the filthy mouth, honey,” and his words were as smooth as silk. as he’s making sure not to be too rough, his body continues to rut into you, respectfully pounding you into the creamy cottony sheets. a thumb of his curls against your bottom lip before he deepens his angle just a tad bit. “m- my love, oh,” and for a split second, nanami’s voice cracks. your cunt’s so good and drenched that he for one was practically speechless. nanami squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. he huffs out individual heavy pants from his full lungs before his hands roam all over your body. you were perfect, his fingers were hot and burning with parched heat - the same kind of heat that radiates against your skin. he’s hovering over your body, tenderly grinding his sharpened hips into you whilst his mushroom tip repeats to thrash against your throbbing clit.

nanami was always respectful when he fucks. missionary was forever his favorite because of the loving eye contact.

he’s stuffing you full of inches while staring right in your eyes, serenading you with a song of all the right compliments. you’d always throb, feeling that same mixture of glutinous slick trickle its way down your thighs. “kento don’t stop, please,” your arms throw around him, using a thumb to strum down his fading undercut. it’s soft, bristles of hair glide against your digit before the screeching squelches of your pussy abruptly snap you back to reality. as the bed wails and dips from the constant jerks and jarring movement - you start to grow dumb. his cock stretches right through you, curling its way into your walls while making its very mark. with the way your mouth was hanging open, he can’t help but silence your sweet forbidden moans with a kiss. “mmph.”

moans, now muffled get poured into his lips as his body continues to shift against you. he’s so warm that it’s almost a burning hot. nanami’s hands gingerly run down your skin, touching you everywhere just so he can feel you shiver from his contact. “i know, i know,” he whispers between sultry kisses, briefly sucking against your bottom lip. his balls were always swollen whenever it came to you. you whine, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your forehead—he’s so close. minty breath gets caught by your nostrils as your legs wrap themselves around his waist. “that’s it. jus’ let me love you, let your husband remind you how perfect you are, good girl.”

his words create a school of fluttering butterflies in your tummy. nanami can’t keep his hands off you, literally. he touches everywhere, nipping a few kisses at your skin as he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear. he’s purring against your nude flesh as you try to match his crazed pace. “kento, ‘m gonna cum. gonna cum, fuckk,” you suddenly babble out, shaking directly underneath him. you were so cute—his eyes soften as you’re stammering about your incoming release. plump soft lips press against your forehead as he’s still sweetly driving his hips into your walls. “please.”

by this point, both lips were departed from each other and he’s got two buff arms resting on opposite sides of your body. the smell of the air in the room was almost too strong. a mixturing scent of sweat and devoted bodies moving together in harmony. he groans into your neck, pressing a few more kisses at your skin. “c’mon, you can make a mess on me,” and he cups your face, witnessing right before his eyes as you’re about to approach your calamitous rapture. it’s like a wave but it’s crashing at full speed. you whine, collected breaths starting to pick up as the crown of his cock steadily thrashes around the shallow depths insides of your swollen cunt. nanami can feel your throbbing intensify and he starts to grow just a bit more relentless with his tempo. “make a mess, yeah. ‘s okay, your husband’s gonna clean you right up like always.”

nanami’s words were so sweet — he’s talking you through it whilst he’s got his hands cupping your face. strangled moans die from your throat before one tap of his cock against that spot was the final straw. your pussy constricts around his thickset base before you whimper. “f- fuuuuck,” a long moan leaves out of you as the build up pressure finally releases. his body lies flat against you as he’s gradually slowing down, whispering all sorts of praises against your ear in a shaky voice as you’re finally coming undone on his weighty shaft. your eyes widen before you bite into his neck, muffling your loud moans as you cream all the way down to his hilting base.

you’re speechless—and with your breath literally being taken away from you, your arms remain fragile, thrown over nanami’s shoulders. again, you’re met with the most kindest fawn eyes and he sheepishly smiles at you, sweat beads racing down the sides of his forehead. “such a good girl. even as a mess you’re still so p- perfect— fuck,”and he chokes up on his sentence, his voice suddenly turning raspy. your cunt grips him tight, never wanting to let go and he grits his teeth at the feeling. mousy dilated pupils flicker back until a flashing color of white could only be seen from his sockets. it was sexy, nanami loses himself for a moment before he slumps into your chest, hiccuping at how he came and sounded so so lewd—so pussy drunken all of a sudden. “oh, forgive me for my foul language m- my love. you really—made a mess out of me too it seems.”

☆ GETO — “THESE WINDOWS TINTED SO NOBODY SAW.”

“that’s my good girl,” geto leans back against the leather driver seat, occasionally using a palm to swat against your ass.

he’s smacking the right cheek specifically, featuring skin against skin sticking amongst each other from the perspiring sweat. he groans at the springy recoil your ass gives him every time before he gives your rear a squeeze. “fuckin’ ride it, yeah. slut this sloppy pussy all over me, sweetheart.”

“s- suguru,” you whine staring deep into his eyes. he’s so pretty, lazily slouched and reclined back with the most smuggest grin on his lips. the only sounds that could be heard in the parked vehicle was the sounds you, your sloppy cunt, and the loud bangs of raindrops that hit against his tinted windows. you continue to grind your hips into him before he spanks your ass again and again. “fuck, ‘s big. you’re always so fuckin’ big.”

“someone complaining?” he raises a brow, although you know he’s just teasing. like always, he’s watching as you struggle to keep up your pace. his fat cock was perfectly tugged into your walls and you felt like at any given moment, he’d split your pretty pussy open. “hm?” he opens his mouth tauntingly, the car’s entire build starting to jerk and judder from the powerful movements. a hand of his cups your chin before he rubs a thumb over your spit-glossed lips. “yeah, no back talk now huh, princess. less talkin’ more riding, uh huh.”

you wanted to roll your eyes but you couldn’t. he’s staring at you and eating up all of your dramatic facial expressions. the way your brows knead together and your lips part — that sweet sweet ‘o’ that forms from your mouth prying open, blissful whines tearing from your windpipe. he’s so thick, it’s almost unfair. the car continues to shake as your bouncing against his dick progresses at a more hurried speed. “s- shut up suguru.”

“ooh,” he hums, teasingly starting to bounce his thigh. even more friction, and both rows of your teeth clench together before you let off a sweet battle-crying moan. right there, his tip starts to smack and kiss up against a stretchy part that’s dug directly into your walls. you feel it and multiple hairs stand up near the nape of your neck. geto watches as your eyelids become droopy and you’re already so dick-drunk. it’s adorable, weak arms of yours toss themselves over his broad built shoulders and you feel a sudden quiver shockwave inside your thighs. “yeah, fuck me girl. don’t slow down. give it t’ me. shut me up with your pussy, how ‘bout that, huh.”

you give him a glare but geto only snickers, bringing another open palm toward your left ass cheek to spank it. you moan, your angered scrunched up muscles in your face relaxing before you whimper. “fuck, fuck,” and his turgid balls resume to pummel all through your gripping walls. there’s a candied taste in your mouth, the quicker you ride him—the more you taste it. it’s salty, bittersweet until your throat starts to leisurely grow dry. geto groans, sliding his foot away from the brake before he grabs ahold of your hips once more. “suguru, ‘m gettin’ close, fuck.”

“yeah, yeah,” he huffs, dark eyes glancing toward your chest — he observes the way your tits bounce, matching your rhythm by slamming you further down on his cock. it’s so cute, you were an entire mess. whilst you’re losing yourself on his dick, he pulls you close into him. “easy. baby. slow down a bit for me. ‘s not a rush, mhm,” and as his husky voice purrs into your ear, your cunt throbs. he even flicks his tongue against the shell of your ear just to hear you whimper louder. his cologne was loud, invading the entire space of the car. it was a mixture of burning leather and geto’s rich manly scent. it was no denying, he smelled so good that it was just intoxicating. obediently, you start to slow your hips crazed tempi to his liking and he sexily throws his head back - adam’s apple bobbing in response. “fuck, yeah. right there, jus’ like that. i gotcha. nice ‘n slow, good fuckin’ girl.”

the sounds of your sopping pussy only get louder before his teeth tenderly bite into your neck. you moan, feeling a balmy chill ghost near the hairs that run down your collarbone. he’s letting you fuck yourself stupid and it’s almost like you were floating. whining, you reach between your legs to feel your convulsing cunt. you’re close, so close.

“s- sugu,” you whimper, feeling that familiar sensation of heat swimming its way toward the lower pits of your stomach. “fuck, fuck.”

“cum with me baby,” he coos to you, guiding your hips with two big hands. your ears felt like they were constantly popping the more you rode him. he’s groaning from your sloppy rhythm and how good your ass thwacks and thwacks. against him. but just as he whispered those words—geto squints his eyes at his rear view mirror. with a hand still attached to your hips, he spots a luminescent light mixture of blue and red. he grows sheepish, realizing he probably shouldn’t have pulled over at this particular spot. .

as you’re still riding him, he grunts as he spots the officer steeping out. slouching back against the driver seat and running a hand through his darkened sable locks, he sighs.

“well shit.”

☆ CHOSO — “I GOT ‘EM ADDICTED HE FIENDIN’.”

“princess, y’know i don’t like when you run from me,” choso groans, reeling your hips back into him.

you gasp, hearing the slight rasp in his tone. his thick cock plummets through your walls and without the support of his hands, you’d have well collapse on the mattress. your limbs were already weak and flimsy enough as it was. he’s been fucking you for hours, nonstop. choso couldn’t get enough. “c’mere, don’t run from me.”

a tiny whine pours from your lips as you feel a few fingers of his curl around your neck. your back naturally arches and you bite your lip. “fuck, ‘cho,” you huff, the sharp smacks of your hips roughly hitting against his pelvis making him hiss. his favorite part. dark irises glance down toward your ass before he spanks you. one spank turns into one, then two, then three. the bed cries from the combining pounds of weight as he’s drilling into you, having the stamina equivalent to a stallion. “ohmygod, choso. right there baby, ngh.”

your lewd little moans alone were enough to get him off. arched thin brows tug together as he drags you back closer into him. he’s still got a hand wrapped around your throat before he pushes his hips further into you at full throttle.

“mhm, good girl. take it, fuckin’ take it,” and you can hear the hoarse in his tone pitching his delivery. your cunt’s weak ily squelching and squealing out all kinds of noises. you were soaked. choso’s droopy eyes continue to stare down your ass, spotting a few sweat droplets race down your spine. “so pretty. all mine, pussy’s all mine,” he grunts through gritted teeth, and your ass gets met with another smack. “c’mon, baby. gotta meet me halfway though. arch better, yeah?”

“s- sorry,” you sheepishly murmur, feeling another incoming moan try to choke its way out of your throat. he’s hitting you so deep, choso’s ravaging your walls and massaging them thoroughly. every part, every corner, every crevice. through and through—you straighten your arch before feeling his hips grind slower into you. with his pace, it’s almost hypnotic. “shit,” you whimper, trying to match his sudden changed rhythm. he’s fucking you slow but deep, tongue already starting to loll out. “choso, ‘m gonna cum.”

you hear a scoff before he leans further in, planting a wet kiss near your back. “nuh uh. not yet,” and with a piston of his hips, he lightly pushes your head into the silky sheets with a hand. “fuck, soakin’ me so good, princess. nasty girl,” he breathes, hearing your gurgled moans escape from your lips. your pussy was almost louder than you — a plethora of sloppy sounds sing out of your folds and he purposely grows quiet just to hear it. “heh, love when she does that. always got so much to say.”

“c- choso,” you squeak, shimmying your hips back into him. the dark-haired male can’t help but press two thumbs into your hips, feeling against the entire curvature - so pretty. you had his entire cock drenched with your gooey slick and he only wanted more. you’re pawing desperately at the satiny sheets to hang on as he’s continuing to jut his fat cock further into you. “ngh, cumming!”

choso holds your hips steadily in place—but he groans, feeling his swollen balls approach its peak at the same exact time. thick fingers of his pierce into your skin before abruptly, a geyser ripples right out your folds. you’re creaming all down his cock, gasping before he shortly follows. it’s runny, pumps and pumps of sweltering hot cum dribbles into your sobbing cunt. choso’s hair was shaggy, few black tresses of strands stick against his skin with the help of clingy sweat before he growls. “fuck . . me,” and his chiseled abs clench with his head throwing itself back. yet as he’s stuffing you full of load, his hips start up again and you let off a moan. “baby, can’t let it go to waste. keep up, need it. need you.”

you let off a moan, ruthlessly being pounded into the fat cushions of the mattress before unexpectedly—you hear a ear splitting crack. choso ignores it, still driving his hips deeply into your core before that’s right when the headboard falls with a blaring shatter. your eyes widen as you flinch at the now broken furniture—feeling the weight of the bed collapse inward. the bed breaks but chcoso’s entirely unfazed. “c- choso, the bed b- broke.”

“so?”

“s- so?” you moan, his blushing tip repeatedly kissing up against your swollen sweetest spots. “the bed’s broken—”

“baby, ‘s okay,” a low voice murmurs, watching with blown pupils as your slick coats an entire translucent colored ring around his hefty base. choso groans, licking his lips before slowly pulling out, only to plug his weeping spilling cum right back into your cunt.

“don’t worry about the bed. gonna break your pussy next, anyway, heh.”

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Oh Make Me Over - Emily Prentiss

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader and Emily agreeing to do each other’s makeup devolves into lewd activities.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: saw a tiktok that made me so insanely feral so here we are.

TW: dom!emily, lap sitting, cockwarming + penetration (w/ a strap), slight fingering, degradation kink, slight praise, playful thigh slapping, fem + afab reader

Rating: R (mostly smut again, oops)

——

“Emily, will you do my makeup?” You approached her from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Only if you’ll do mine.” She replied, setting the hot tool in her hand on the counter. She looked at you through the mirror, admiring the way your chin sat so perfectly on her shoulder.

“Let me finish my hair and we can start, go get everything together and I’ll be right in.” She smiled, turning to kiss your cheek.

You padded out of the bathroom, collecting both of your makeup bags and setting them on the nightstand while you relaxed on the bed. You pulled out the book you were reading, scanning through a chapter until Emily walked in.

“You first babe, I have an idea for mine.” She hinted, peaking your curiosity. She joined you on the bed, grabbing your makeup bag and moving to straddle your lap. She laid out the contents of the bag on the bed next to you, asking you to hold certain things as she went to work making you over.

Having her on top of you made your body temperature rise, your heart rate increasing every time she bit her lip in concentration and held your chin to move your face whichever way she needed you to face.

“Look down.” She commanded, ready to apply the smokey eye you had requested for your first proper date night in months. Your gaze dropped, giving you an eyeful of her ample cleavage in the low-cut top she had chosen. Something told you she was doing this on purpose but you weren’t complaining. The next thing you knew she was gripping your chin, holding you firmly in place.

“I’m doing your eyeliner, don’t move.” She was a little extra firm this time and you could tell she was in one of her dominant moods today. That thought had you clenching your thighs together, wondering what she would do to you when you got home from your date.

“Lashes?” She asked, holding up your favorite pair of falsies. You nodded, wanting to look extra pretty for her. She applied the lashes, blowing softly against your eyelids to help the glue completely dry. The new sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost whined when she leaned away from you to grab a mirror.

“Thoughts?” She watched your expression, loving the way your eyes lit up when you took the look in.

“You always make me look so pretty.” You praised her handiwork.

“You’re always gorgeous.” She sighed, a little disappointed in your backdoor self-depreciation but always loving to hear that she’s made you happy. You blushed, still not fully sure how to feel comfortable receiving compliments, even from your girlfriend of 2 years.

“So what is your idea for yours?” The curiosity was driving you wild, Emily always has the best ideas.

She got off the bed, going over to the dresser and opening the drawer the two of you kept your toys in. You watched her carefully, trying to see what she was grabbing until she turned around, strap in hand. You gulped, cheeks flushing.

“We have to leave soon or we’ll miss our reservation, I don’t think we have time to do your makeup and do that.” You reminded her, trying to remain rational.

“Not if we do both at the same time.” She smirked, stepping into the harness and tightening it around her hips. You remained silent, still a bit confused until she climbed on the bed, settling with her back against the headboard, strap resting erect in her lap.

“Come here.” She beckoned you toward her, her hands resting on your hips as you hovered only inches from the toy between you.

“Have you ever heard of cockwarming?” This line of questioning was not what you were expecting when you imagined your first date night in months. You shook your head, the name giving you an idea but not 100% sure on the definition.

“I want you to sit on my lap with this inside you and do my makeup. You can do whatever you want on it, as long as you stay focused and get my makeup done in time to make our reservation.” Her eyes sparkled and even though you were a little unsure, the ache between your thighs was growing by the second and the concept of getting some relief was more than enough to convince you.

“Okay, I think I can do that.” You finally answer after a moment, reaching for her makeup bag and splaying the contents on the bed like Emily had done with yours. When you were ready you draped your hand over her shoulder, lifting your hips and holding your skirt up so you should position yourself above the fake cock. You reached down, pumping your fingers into your entrance to double check that your desperation had aroused you enough to safely sink onto it before positioning the head in place of your fingers, the stretch drawing a gasp of air from your lungs. You sank down completely, pausing for a moment to adjust to the feeling before reaching for Emily’s primer, ready to start your task.

You got to work, applying her base products as you slowly swiveled your hips, allowing yourself just enough stimulation to keep you satisfied but still focused on what you were doing. An issue began to arise when you reached for her eyeshadow palette, ready to start getting into the more tedious details. The slight friction wasn’t enough anymore, the carnal desire inside of you beginning to overwhelm.

You started bouncing your hips, starting out slower as you laid down a transition shade on Emily’s eyelids, pausing briefly to grab a different brush to put the dark shade of brown on her outer corners. You tried your best to blend the two shades seamlessly, but your hips seemed to have a mind of their own as you continued to increase your pace. You were chasing a slowly approaching orgasm and your focus was quickly slipping, pausing your work a little too long for Emily’s taste.

“Stop.” She commanded, her hands gripping your hips to pull you down to a stop.

“If you don’t focus we’re going to miss our reservation, is that what you want?” She chided, holding you still.

“No, I’m sorry.” You mumbled, grabbing a new brush to add the final eyeshadow shade. You held her still this time, your free hand gripping her chin as you did her eyeliner. When you grabbed her mascara, instructing her to blink as you applied the dark coating to her lashes, she let go of your hips, silently telling you to start moving again.

You reached for her setting spray, bouncing your hips once again as you shook the bottle, finally spraying the last step over her face. She took the mirror, inspecting your work as you continued attempting to get yourself off.

“You did a pretty good job for a selfish brat.” You didn’t want to admit it but hearing her demean you like that had you chasing your orgasm even harder, too turned on to question why. You were too lost in pleasure to realize that Emily had packed up her makeup, clearing the bed to make space for her to flip you onto your back, driving her hips into you as hard as she could.

“You want to cum, slut? You better hurry up, we only have a few minutes.” She taunted, her thumb finding your clit as you cried out underneath her, each thrust of her hips into your aching cunt rubbing perfectly against that soft spot inside you.

“Do you like when I make you fuck yourself for my entertainment?” You barely registered her question as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, so close to release.

“Answer me.” She demanded, slapping your thigh.

“Yes!” You cried out, euphoria washing over you as your orgasm finally hit, back arching and hands clutching at the sheets beneath you. As you came down Emily pulled out of you, planting kisses across your collarbone.

“Are you okay, love?” She asked, slight concern in her voice.

“More than okay.” You panted, still catching your breath.

“We really do need to leave in a couple minutes, what panties do you want?” She looked to you, opening your underwear drawer.

“Pink flowers.” The words had barely left your lips when she was already at your feet with the pair, helping pull them up your legs.

“I love you.” You smiled down at her, loving the dynamic the two of you share.

“I love you too babydoll.” She replied, taking your hand to help you to your feet to finally leave for your date.

——

Tag List: DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Emily Prentiss taglist :)

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS BONUS CHAPTER

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlwifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd @lupinqs @ohmybueckers

warnings sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! i hit 1k last night so i figured it would be perfect to give you guys this lil thing. thank you guys so much for all the love since i joined this community, i can’t wait to put out more works for y’all 🥹 THANK YOU AGAIN FOR 1K!

August 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“You’re really about to go have drinks and leave me here? All by myself?” I whine, my head resting on the mirror where I sit on Raye’s bathroom counter.

The last month of being with Maraye has been nothing short of an adventure to say the least. The honeymoon phase was absolutely real, because I honestly think we’ve spent more time with one another than apart. Aside from my last road trip.

Which I believe is the sole reason for my complaining and frowning in front of her right now.

“I’ve had these plans for weeks. I haven’t seen my girls in forever, it’s the first time everyone’s back in LA.” She explains to me, and I get it. I really do, but something about just landing last night and only getting a few kisses before bed makes the fact that she’s going out even more ridiculous in my head.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you in forever. Do you just hate me, or what?” I continued. I reach for the belt loop of Raye’s denim skirt, pulling her in between my legs. “Ma, c’mon.”

She has this look on her face that makes it so hard to act upset. Wide eyes and a thin lipped cheeky smile. Concealer dabbed under her eyes, blush on her cheeks, Raye got her lashes done yesterday morning and the fresh set makes her dark rimmed eyes look even more enticing.

My girlfriend is fucking hot. I’ve had the privilege of having my eyes blessed by her since we started dating. But God, even the simplicity of her black top and jean skirt— with the tiniest sliver of skin on her stomach showing and skirt just short enough to bring a lot of dirty thoughts to my imagination— makes the realization stick to me like glue.

“You look good.” I murmur as I trail my hand behind her. It finds a home against her waist at first, but I could only be tempted to drag it lower over her ass. “Real fuckin’ good.”

“I know. Which is why I’m going out.” Raye jeers. She pushes off of me, reaching for her just slightly pink lip gloss. It’s sheer when she swipes it over her plump lips, a nice color contrast to the dark brown of her lip liner.

My fingers tap frustratedly against my knee. “Baby. Jus’ stay wimme, c’mon.” I groan again, hoping that my combination of puppy eyes and the line of my jaw is enough to convince her. I watch the way Raye pats her lips together and I know it’s not on purpose but it sure as hell feels that way.

“You had all day to try to keep me home. You didn’t care until I got all dressed up, P.” She rolls her eyes playfully. Raye shutting off the light and leaving me in the darkness of her bathroom. The sexy scent of her Jimmy Choo perfume briefly puts me in a trance but I get up and follow her anyway.

“That’s ’cause I didn’t expect you to look this…this fucking fine.” My bottom lip can’t help but travel between my teeth as I watch her walk, her boots clicking against the hardwood of her apartment.

“That’s not my problem, babe.”

I scoff. “Don’t go out with ‘em, Raye. You’re telling me we wouldn’t have more fun here?” My voice is suggestive, just enough to make her stutter in her step before slowly pivoting to face me.

She’s processing what to say, and a part of me is begging that she’s going to take her boots off and throw herself at me so I have her as I want for the rest of the night.

Raye struts over to me, pressing her palm against my cheek. We’re nearly at eye level like this, the smell of her hair product wafts up to my nose. I jut my lips out towards her, to be honest I’m not sure I even realized how genuinely needy I was until right then.

“‘M gonna get lipgloss on you.” She sighs.

“On my life, I don’t give a shit.”

It seems enough to get her to give in, enough for Raye to lean in and pull me to her by my tank top, slotting her lips against mine. She tastes like that same faint, sweet, coconut scent of her body wash.

I immediately reach for her hands, lacing her fingers with mine and dragging her other hand down my torso as I deepen the kiss.

She grips the waistband of my shorts, my tongue doesn’t even bother being gentle with the way I shove it between her lips, licking at her tongue in a tangled exchange.

Seemingly, she forgets that she had places to be, which fills me with a sense of pride that sends a rush through me, I think I’ve probably soaked my boxers into nothing by now. Maraye’s phone buzzes in her purse, making her hum in almost…realization.

“They can wait.” I grunt against her lips, our teeth continuing to clash in pure want.

Raye breaks the suction of our mouths, a vulgar popping noise cutting through the soft noise of the TV in the back.

“You can wait.”

“It’s been forever, ma. You gon’ let me go over a week without you? For real?”

A laugh erupts from her mouth, Raye’s thumb brushing under my lip, probably ridding me of any of her now transferred lip product. “There’s food on the stove, don’t touch my AC, and I promise—” the girl pauses, taking the opportunity to sneak a kiss off of me, “— I’ll let you have whatever you want when I get back.”

I can’t do anything more than sigh as I watch her walk away, the sway of her hips and swell of her ass and the light that her kitchen illuminates on those long, brown legs. She picks up her keys and slings her jacket over her arm.

Within seconds she’s gone.

—

When I got to the bar, enveloped in conversation with my girlfriends from college, all it really took was a few shots to get me going. The conversation flowed easily, like we really hadn’t even been apart for as long as we really did. I was having a good time. Which honestly, is surprising considering how much work I’ve been doing for the last handful of months.

The night was calm, the soft noise of 2000’s music pumping through the speakers and the occasional cheers at the expense of tipsy women dancing only a few feet away.

That was until Paige, even as wonderful and perfect as I think she truly is, decided to use my obvious obsession towards her to her advantage.

paige: You doin alright angel?

Yk without your amazing girlfriend and all read 10:38pm

I sip on my margarita, the heat of the alcohol and the almost sudden heat in the pit of my stomach is so strong that they’re one and the same. This is how it starts with her, I’ve learned. Short texts, asking how I am or about my whereabouts. I always find the second question amusing considering she has my location. It’s distracting in a way that makes me forget where I am.

“Oh my God, look at Cass.” My good friend who sits to my left, Nia, points up to my sister. The woman is obviously shit faced, too many drinks taken by this part of the evening. She dances carelessly alongside a few of the other girls.

“I swear she only had a few?” I look shocked, taking a mental note and making sure the only thing Cassie has to drink for the rest of the night is water.

“Multiply that by like, four.”

My ready response is immediately cut off by another text, the blinding light that comes from Paige’s contact makes me roll my eyes.

paige: Read? Wow what position y’all in rn 10:40pm

maraye: oh my god you’re dramatic as hell 😭

i’m fine baby, u? 10:41pm

paige: Nah not rlly

I’m wet as fuck rn just thinking about you

Made a mess on your couch :/ 10:42pm

My breath catches in my throat, coming off as a gasp to Nia. “You okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Imma head to the bathroom real fast.” I explain, trying my best to mask any possible stutter as I stand up, fixing my skirt. She doesn’t say much, which is a relief to me as I dart off to the bathroom in the back.

This is classic Paige, trying to do anything to get in my head just because she can. And as much as I’d hate to admit that it’s working, it is.

The way she was so straightforward about it, drawing me into the conversation with lighthearted Paige-esque texts only to flip the script into something much more filthy within a matter of minutes.

I lean my back on the singular porcelain sink, gripping my phone in my hands. I reopen our text thread, racking my brain for what to say to her that won’t lead to me making a mess out of my panties.

maraye: paige quit itttt

i literally just got here 10:44pm

paige: I literally don’t care 🤷🏼‍♀️

Can’t get your ass in that skirt outta my head

Got my fingers all sticky and shit 10:45pm

I swear my heartbeat speeds up times fucking ten, my chest heaving like she sucked all the air out of my lungs without even being here.

The picture she just painted in my head makes my knees weak.

Hot and bothered even more than before I left. Paige’s fingers, long and so ridiculously skilled, between her thighs as she got off to me. The thought of her imagining me or looking at pictures of me, it’s so downright dirty that I can’t believe I didn’t indulge in sexting with her before this.

I take a deep inhale, wanting to blink back my thoughts of her coming on my couch, my name off of her lips like a prayer.

paige: 1 Attachment: 1 Video

I think you should come back home 10:47pm

Fumbling with my phone I finally tap the screen and get the video open. It’s pitch black at first, then the view of her lower body fills my whole screen. Paige’s legs spread wide on my couch, a foot propped up on the armrest as she lets out an audible groan.

Her hand tugs up the hem of her wife beater, then her fingers rub circles over her clit. The sound of how wet she is loud, too loud, almost drowning out her moaning. I whine, crossing my legs and shutting my eyes. Maybe if I stopped looking at her I would keep what was left of my sanity.

And then she moans my name, again. My full name. Over and over and fucking over. I can’t help but drag my hand under my skirt, over my panties.

Then she slips three fingers inside, the stretch is obvious but the moan she lets out. Paige curls her fingers inside herself, I watch the camera tremble in response— she’s struggle to hold it still.

Then she’s slamming them in and out, a repetition that makes her almost cry. It sounds like water sloshing on the other side of the phone. Wet. Wet and fucking messy until she comes with a sound that could really only be described as a scream.

maraye: fuck baby 10:50pm

paige: I can’t stop cumming ma

Needa fuck you so bad

Come home 10:50pm

My breathing is ragged, and I know I shouldn’t but I’m considering it heavily. It’s so hard to believe that not even two weeks without her was making me act like this but it was.

maraye: you gotta come get me 10:51pm

paige: Otw read 10:52pm

—

"So, What'd you tell 'em?" I murmur. We sit at a red light, my left hand gripping the steering wheel so hard that even in the late night lighting you can tell how strained they are. But my right hand, trails slowly up Raye's thigh. She didn't fight me, not at all, her legs spreading further in the seat of my Jeep.

I can feel the warmth exuding from her before I even get a chance to press against her cunt.

"Hmm?"

"Your girls. What was your excuse, ma?" I ask again, pressing my foot to the gas pedal as soon as that green light flashes in my face.

My fingers take their time traveling towards her center and the second they do, Raye adjusts in the seat. She pushes her hips up the leather, tipping her head back on the head rest.

"Told 'em you needed a good fuck?" I pull her panties aside, and the second they touch my fingertips I learn that she's fucking soaked. "That you were so fuckin' needy that you had to go home to me, huh?"

The soft sound of PartyNextDoor fills the car alongside the soft hum of pleasure from Raye's lips. My eyes dart down to her, the way she has her eyes glued shut, the heavy rise and fall of her chest. Then I follow the slope of her nose and the tip of her head. The city streetlights make her look like an angel, just glowing.

"Y’were the one begging for me." She groans as I slip my finger inside. The angle puts a slight strain on my wrist but I don't really care. I look back to the road, it's pure luck that the roads tonight are kind of empty.

“It worked tho’ right? Got you just how I want you.” I smirk at the fact, tapping my free hand against the steering wheel.

Raye is so damn warm against me, hugging my middle finger like a vice. "So jus' lemme know. Did you say how wet I make you, that's why you couldn't stay?"

"Oh fuck you." She moans, biting her lip so hard that I think she might draw blood.

“Imma do that, baby. Trust me.” I hum.

Maraye is reactive, if it’s the one thing I’ve noticed about having sex with her, it’s that. Sure the sound of her pussy around my finger is loud but her moans might be louder. Then when I slip in a second finger she lets out a whimper, an almost helpless one.

She tries to steady herself, splaying a hand on my center console but it only does so much. It stabilizes her for a moment until I curl my fingers in that way I know she likes. Her hips jerk up, riding up her skirt in the process.

“You tryna run? I thought you knew better than that, Raye.” I shake my head. I’m lucky we’re on a straight road, it gives me enough time to briefly let my hand leave the wheel to pin her hips down to the seat.

“Y—you’re so good.” She groans, blinking her eyes open. “M’gonna cum.”

I make a swift turn onto her street, racking my brain for all the ways I could turn this woman to putty until the sun came up. “Nah you gonna hold it until we get to yours.” I mutter, dragging my fingers in and out with a fervor. “Then you’re gonna let me fuck you with my cock.”

I watch her jaw fall slack at my words, either in shock or pleasure but regardless it’s addicting. She nods rapidly, whining as I slow my fingers until they’re barely even moving inside her and I finally get a chance to park the car.

“More, baby. Mor—”

“Gonna soak me up the way you’re soaking my seat. Jus’ fuckin’ up my car, huh? You’re gonna give it to me.” I turn my body to face her, gripping her chin so she’s looking at me. My fingers twist inside of her, the squelch of it all catches us both off guard. “Imma stretch you out so wide it hurts. Ruin that pussy, yeah?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Raye nods.

Her eyes roll back, more than enough to make me moan and pull my fingers out. They’re soaked with her arousal, a sheen that drips to my palm. I’m wrapped in the scent of her— sex, perfume, and coconut— a combination that makes me drip down my legs.

“Then let’s go.” I mutter, turning off the car sticking my keys into the pocket of my shorts. My hand comes up to my lips, cleaning them of the mess she had made. “Lemme get you right.”

—

Paige is fucking hot.

Her skin burns under my touch, yes, but it’s everything else too. How her lips chase after mine like I could run away, capturing my bottom lip in her mouth. Her tongue licking past my lips, into my mouth, and onto my tongue.

Our clothes are mostly long gone, my boots and skirt laying somewhere near my front door, and the rest of them occupied random spots across my bedroom floor.

And then that damn harness.

The first time we had sex and she brought up the strap I thought it was all a ploy to turn me on. Don’t get me wrong, it worked, made me cum so hard my legs shook until I fell asleep. But seeing it, seeing the way the dildo hangs from her hips— a long and girthy dark purple— made me drool.

She was blatantly vulgar with it, my cock, the words off her lips so dirty that i’m surprised they turn me on as much as they do. But that’s just Paige, everything she does turns me on.

She tangles her hand behind me to the clasp of my bra which she unclips and forces down my arms. Following that, a slap meets my ass hard. Hard enough that I’m almost positive she left a bruise.

“I been dreaming about this shit, y’know?” She starts. Her teeth nip at my lips, soothing the slight sting with short and soft pecks. “Tearin’ it open, how good that shit would feel.”

I hum against her, letting the blonde push me back against the bed. “That’s what got you so worked up, baby?” I tease. Paige watches me with wide eyes and an even wider mouth as I trail my panties down my legs, they’re soaked from her stunt over the phone and in the car.

“Fuck, Raye, y’ont even know.” She groans.

I watch the way her eyes flutter shut, like she’s imagining it all over again, and her hand travels to the strap. Her hand wraps around it, enough to remind me of how fucking huge her hand is. She strokes it as if it’s an extension of her. There’s a faint buzzing that I hear on the other end, and just knowing she’s getting off too makes this whole thing even more appealing.

“Been thinking about splitting me open, yeah?” I ask as my hands travel up to my chest, gripping my breast before bringing my other hand to my mouth. I’m putting on a show for her licking my fingers and shoving them between my legs, rubbing over my clit. “Make me cum on your cock, baby. Please?” I beg, widening my legs to make room for her.

“Scoot back.” The blonde instructs. And I do. I know better than to work her up some more.

I watch my girlfriend’s spit drip from her mouth and onto the tip as she hovers over me. She spreads it over the silicon before spitting on my cunt too. Paige teases the tip against me and I swear the minute she pushes it inside me, my body heat rises uncontrollably.

“Oh my—shitttt, baby!” I think I feel it in my chest, the pressure that fills me completely. My inner thighs sting as she slides the dildo in to the hilt, letting out a soft gasp that matches my expletive. Paige’s arms cage me in, palms pressed against beside my head as she starts rocking her hips.

I’ve had my fair share of sex and sexual experiences, but this right here, makes everything else I’ve ever done look like child’s play. The stretch is unbelievable. And even if Paige had taken it upon herself to try and prep me with her fingers all this time, they don’t even compare.

It’s so intimate, Paige’s breath fanning against my face and her thin silver chain dangling against me too. Her strokes are slow, and deep. Incredibly deep. She reaches a spot inside of me that hasn’t been tapped before, and she does it fast, almost instantly.

“Talk to me, pretty girl.” She murmurs in my ear. Paige’s hand wraps around my waist, raising my hips just enough to make my eyes water. “Tell me how that pussy feelin’.”

I gasp. “So… so fuckin’ good. Mmmm it’s perfect, baby.”

Paige speeds up, not rapid but just enough that I’m arching my back and throwing my hips down against her. My legs curl around her hips to pull her in deeper.

“Oh shit.” Paige grunts, the vibrator against her cunt coupled with the movement of my hips is stimulating her heavy. “This whatchu needed? Just good dick, yeah? He wasn’t hittin’ it right?”

I dig my nails into her biceps, which are huge from her All-Star break workouts, and shake my head. Her eyes flutter open, lip tucked between her teeth. She looks fucking incredible, Paige’s hair is down for the first time in a while. She’s always pulling it back, but right now with the way it shadows us in a curtain is goddess like.

“Answer me, angel.”

“Uh huh, yes! Fuck yes, I needed it so bad, P.” I moan. Paige only briefly pauses to change her angle, but then she’s right back against me. Skin to fucking skin. She unhooks my leg from around her, pushing it back as far as she could.

Her nose brushes against my own. “You take me so good. Keep suckin’ me up, ma.”

My eyes roll as the coil in my stomach tightens, I don’t think I’ve ever come this fast in my life. The way the strap rakes laboriously into my cunt is toe curling. “Needa cum. Let me, please.” I hiccup. My fingers tangle into her hair, tugging her locks slightly.

“Tell me you love it.”

Those five words are enough to make me fall under a spell. Paige’s voice is laced with fucking drugs, deep and breathy against my mouth.

“I love this shit. Love your cock, baby.” It comes out as almost a cry.

The admission makes Paige smirk and chase after my mouth, locking our lips in a kiss that draws the orgasm out of my body. She moans all high and drawn out into my mouth meshing our tongues messily.

“You wanna cum, Raye?” She stutters. I notice it, obviously. The change in her pitch and the way she slightly trips over her words. She’s close, probably overstimulated from her activities on my couch.

“Please?”

“I want it, baby. Cum for me.”

And I do. Gushing over the silicone almost instantly. Paige helps me ride it out, kissing the corner of my mouth before trailing her lips to my cheek. “Good girl. My perfect girl.” She hums.

She carefully pulls out, trying to be as gentle as she possibly can but I still hiss at the feeling. A whimper leaves my lips at the empty feeling, I miss her inside me already.

Paige flops beside me on the bed, she’s watching me catch my breath. I can feel her eyes on me even though i’m not looking at her. Her eyes like lasers, scanning over me. The blue says everything she’s yet to.

“Just say you wanna go again.”

She laughs at that while throwing her arm over my hip. It rests heavy on my abdomen. I finally turn my head to her, the sweat on her entire body only makes the chain on her neck glisten in the light.

“C’mere.” It comes out as a whimper and I can only assume it’s from the dull stimulation from the vibrator. Paige reaches for my hips, helping me straddle her hips. I happily lean down to her, kissing her perfect pink lips with a smile. “Ride it.”

I take the length in my hand, my release now decorating my palm. I tease my own entrance then sink down on it slowly. The feeling is even more foreign than taking her in missionary.

Before I even get the chance to take every inch my hands fly to her chest, I plant my palms on her for stability.

“Too big?” It’s one of the first times I’m unsure if she’s serious or just teasing. I press my forehead against Paige’s, my chest heaving and breathless moans leaving my mouth.

“N—No. Jus’ full. So full, P. Fuck.” I dart my head into the crook of her neck whining like an animal as she pushes me down her cock. I swear it sits in my stomach.

Her large and veiny hands grip my ass, she starts the pace off slow, using me like a fucking toy. “Y’know I gotchu.” Paige whispers into my ear.

“It’s—mmph— so fuckin’ deep. I can’t, baby.” I moan again, trailing my hand back to her hair as if the blonde locks would ground me.

It’s like Paige’s demeanor shifted within a matter of seconds. She’d been soft all night, at least for the most part, but the way her hand slaps my ass is anything but soft. “One month with me and you can’t take dick no more? What happened, mama? You were talking all that shit—”

I cut her off by getting on my toes and the first grind of my hips shuts her up. Her groan was thick, the kind of gruff sound that made it seem like she was barely hanging on herself. The blonde nips at my collarbone.

Paige watches me like a hawk, her breathing heavy and jaw slightly slack. “M’fucking God, Raye. Ohhh shit— you’re a fuckin’ slut.” She moans. Her body falls deeper into the stack of pillows, leaning back just enough to look over my body. My tits in her face and her strap sliding in and out of my soaked cunt.

“Your s-slut tho’. Right, baby?”

“Yeah. All fucking mine, ride me like a pro.”

The way her eyes snap shut makes me work harder. I bounce on the balls of my feet, any previous inhibitions disappearing as soon as I saw how good it was for her. How her legs trembled under me.

I bite my lip in an attempt to keep quiet, much to Paige’s dismay. She reaches for my bottom lip, untucking it from my mouth and forcing her thumb inside instead. I suck on it instantly, throwing my hips down harder.

“Feels so good, P…” I mumble around her finger. “S’in my stomach.”

“I know, ma. So tight, for me.” She groans. Paige’s hips snap up into mine, instantly ruining any rhythm I had for myself. I scream erupts from my throat, one I didn’t even know I was holding back until she does it again.

Her thumb leaves my mouth, hands gripping my hips, nails digging into the skin. I meet her halfway, matching her thrusts with my grinds. “Gonna cum. Need it, baby. Needa nut in this pussy, fuck.” Paige babbles, her better judgment clouded by the need to get off.

It’s sexy. Her voice frays around the edges, suddenly becoming much more weak than before.

“You love this pussy, right, baby?”

“Mmm. Love it, love this shit. Oh my God.”

There’s only been a few times I’ve gotten to see Paige fall apart. Like fully lose all of her dominance and just lose herself. This is easily one of those times.

“Raye, I’m— fuuckkkk, you feel so good, damn.” She tosses her head back, moan after moan meeting my ears as she finishes. And there’s a part of me, that hopes all the literal inaccuracies dissipate and she does come in me. Deep inside until I’m dripping with it.

That picture makes me work faster. She’s overwhelmed, clawing at my hips but I don’t care. The need to finish myself clouds my brain.

“Ma, hold on. Fuck, hold on.”

“Needa get mine too. Don’t be selfish, P.” I grumble. I sit back on my knees, grinding my hips back and forth. I don’t hold back anything for a single second, moaning and crying out her name. Paige’s hips jerk up, and that jerk pushes me over the edge.

I squirt. Hard.

I think I go blind for a minute, nothing but stars in my vision. Paige clutches my hips, I hear the whimper that comes from her. Getting off on my own orgasm.

When I finally stop, Paige is quick to turn the vibrator off, letting out a breath I didn’t even know she was holding in. She helps me off of her and my legs, that literally feel like jelly, give out immediately. I fall to her side, and the room is filled with a comforting silence.

Paige looks at me, it was caring at first, eyes silently asking me if I was alright. To which I responded with a small nod. Then it shifts. She looks smug.

“What?”

“I took your girl virginity.” She sings, making me roll my eyes.

“I hate you.” I mutter.

“Oh I bet you do.”

[oneforthemunny]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[prettiestofpisces]

juju watkins x gf!reader

synopsis: you happen to be juju’s girlfriend and lash tech

fluff✨blurb

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

as juju’s six foot two form laid on your lash bed, you sat down in your swivel chair adjacent from the girls head.

to the right of you was your lash table which held all the materials you’d possibly need for judea.

“so how have you been baby?” you say swiftly playing with juju’s ears.

although you two were newly official, you both have such a tender spot for one another.

knowing each other, growing with each other since highschool, y’all were made incredibly close over the years.

sharing a kiss or two, prolonged cuddles… your relationship was beyond affection yet nothing contained a label at the time.

that was until senior year after learning you’d both be attending southern cal, juju decided to jump the gun. asking you to prom and later on to be her girlfriend

“mmm good…” she hums with her eyes closed.

“too many promotions, practices and flights.”

now your hands caress her cheeks yet you waited to respond.

“you just want some peace and quiet, i understand baby, keep talking to me if you’d like.”

you then alert juju you’re about to start and she, unknowingly yet conscious of something near her eyes, closed them tight without saying anymore.

you pumped a light foam soap over her lashes and began swirling it in, cleansing the hairs or anything foreign.

“what about you?” she spoke out suddenly.

“hm, well i’ve been busy with few clients, classes and missing you but!.. i watched you play kansas and saw you got roughed up” you giggled.

after said, game juju sported a subtle gash on her left cheek due to brutal play. juju never complained but you knew the mark bothered her.

“you can’t tell but i’m rolling my eyes” juju says with a wide smile, following with more banter.

you let out a final chuckle before rinsing off her eyes and proceeding.

after drying you lay tape down on her bottom lashes to secure them and a large piece for your markings and mapping.

“whispy cat eye right ju?”

“yeah ma” she responds so sweetly.

a minute passes as you’re finishing up writing little numbers across the tape you’ve placed and now you’re able to begin lashing.

pluck a singular extension, dip it in glue, place it on a single lash and wait. a simple process yet very demanding.

you hum along to the rnb tunes in the background, filling the silence and soon enough, you hear the subtle snores of the girl in front of you.

as time ticks, it’s been 45 minutes and you’re finished with the left eye moving over to her right.

Please sprout, offer me your tulips

On my fate

You gon' be my blessing tonight

So keep your eyes wide…

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

and… you’re done.

slowly lifting the tape from jujus soft skin you crumble the pieces and toss them away. her sleeping form calm and content, you kiss her cheek to wake her.

“ju… baby, i’m finished” you whisper close to her ear. once her eyes flutter open you take it upon yourself to kiss her again, this time two pecks.

juju does a quick stretch of all her joints and crains her arm back hold your face against her own. turning her head to the right she embraces you both in a kiss, an oddly awkward perpendicular kiss but one with so much passion nonetheless.

after releasing, juju takes a deep breath and lets go of you all together.

“thank you” she draws out groggily. sliding off the table as you both stand up from your still positions. her tall lengthy frame towering over you like before.

juju looking rather seductive with her new stare. you stare up at her in return admiring you work, the lashes which accentuate her eyes so nicely, making your own dilate. you couldn’t help yourself.

“you’re so pretty” you squeal before juju pulls you into her chest ever so gently. loving the feeling of comfort you tighten the hug whilst still gazing at one another.

“what are you doing tonight?” your question filled with anticipation.

“staying here with you” juju harps, her blatant statement taking you by surprise yet you were more than okay with it.

“i love when you’re around.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆..°

and scene.

sorry i’ve been away, sigh..

just a sophomore in college what can i say however i hope you like this little blurb, its very rushed but i just wanted to post bc postings fun.

muah.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 1: You’re Safe With Me✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The first chapter is finally here, and I’m so excited to bring this to all the healing girlies that need a protective, soft Joel in their life 🥺 Thank you to @alltheirdamn and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming about them with me. This is raw, heavy, and very emotional. I hope you love it as much as I do 🥹 Screaming because I need a hug from this man 😭

Chapter Summary: The night of the auction, the night you’ll have to face your fate of being bought. But an unexpected man dips his money in and fights for you. His eyes are soft, kind, unlike all the other men. And maybe he’ll just be your saving grace.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 13.9k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a lot of angst, soft and protective Joel, emotional reader, trust issues, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  Red. That’s all you see, all you know. The dark crimson lipstick that stains your tainted lips, the cardinal curtains that drape across the buyer’s room, your bloodshot eyes that reflect in mirrors that you can barely stand to look into. It’s all just… red.

   You hate your reflection, hate the mascara that runs down your eyes night after night like the blood that covers your once white sheets, hate the way your voice is silenced even when you so desperately want to scream your lungs out. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters because you’re about to be sold to the highest bidder who deems you worthy enough to claim. 

   You scoff, biting your tongue until you taste copper run down the back of your throat, the tears pooling to the surface against your lash line. 

   “Stop fucking crying and suck it up,” Angela spits out sharply. “You’re going to make me a lot of money today, sunshine. So put on a big smile for me and stop smudging your makeup. You want to go back with the girls who didn’t get chosen to go on to the next rounds?”

   “No,” you mewl, your eyes wide and rounded, your heart lodged in your throat. You know what their poor fates will be, and you’ve had enough abuse and horror to last more than a lifetime. 

   “Then get out there and stop fucking around. You’re driving my patience, girl. The men are waiting.” She narrows her beady blue eyes and curls her thin red lips into a scowl, pushing you forward and nearly making you trip over your strappy high heels, your ankles barely able to hold your fatigued legs up any longer. 

   Your heart thunders loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears, anxiety threatening to take you down at any minute. Angela would be at your back, digging her spiky heels into your spine, barking at you to move, but what does it matter anymore? You’re already dead. What’s one more scratch to your fragile body that has been violated in ways you’d never speak about aloud. 

   You’re just a vacant body that’s hollow and worn inside. A mere ghost that’s left this earth long ago, imprisoned to this life to bring pleasure to men who only inflict pain and torture on innocent souls. But there’s nothing you can do. Not a damn thing. You’re stuck like glue unless you find a way to just end everything. Then they’d never be able to touch you again because you’d be buried six feet under the dirt. But at least then you’d be at peace.

   You’ll never know peace again. Not in this lifetime. Not ever. 

   As you turn the sharp corner, the vibrant red curtains separate into a stage-like theater room. Draped material clings to the velvety walls, the color reminding you of death and destruction. You can almost see the imprinted blood stains of the girls who got dragged away by the strands of their fragile hair, leaving claw marks in the walls. 

   You can still hear the blood curdling screams from some of them left behind, a plea for anyone who was listening, begging for just one person to help. But no one did. Their desperate calls weren’t enough to even stir up a care in the world from any of the men, including your awful handler, Angela. They were just a number, a dollar sign to every single one of these insufferable men, and the only thing they cared about was power, control, and sex.

   You weren’t any different in this scenario. And tonight, your soul would be auctioned off. And then you’d be enslaved till your master either killed you, or you found a gun and pulled the trigger yourself to just silence it all.

   Your high heels click audibly against the polished stage, your feet dragging as you keep your eyes peeled to the floor like a good submissive. “Keep your head down, don’t ever look them in the eyes. Be the good slut they want you to be and maybe they won’t punish you as much.” That’s what Angela always said for all those unbearable months you lived under her roof, and it was engraved like stone in your mind, imprinted words that might as well be tattooed on your wrist. 

   You were taken at twenty-six, now a twenty-seven-year-old fucked up girl who doesn’t even know what state she’s in. It’s been a year, maybe two. You don’t fucking know anymore. All you know is that you want to die. 

   You learned to be submissive, small-minded, belittled, pliant. And the worst part, she taught you to say thank you to your abusers after they were finished having their filthy ways with you night after night…

   You were nothing but a collared bitch who forgot how to say the word no. You were their prized possession now, and your body wasn’t your own anymore.

   “Ahhh. There she is. There’s my favorite slut of them all.” The word slut cuts you like a sharp knife penetrating deep through your skin, sinking down to stab you right where it hurts worst. “Why don’t you give us a spin, princess? Show these gentlemen what you’ve got to offer. Give them a show.” Garrett’s cackled voice booms through the large room, sending goosebumps down the base of your spine. You never liked him, especially when he cornered you in the bathroom, pushing you against the tile until he forced you down on your knees and told you to suck or he’d wring your neck.

   Your eyes press closed at the traumatic memory, teardrops threatening to spill at any moment. You just do what you're told and keep your quivering lips together, your long nails brushing against your bare thighs. The midnight blue dress barely covers your ass, the diamond earrings and pearl necklace weighing you down like a heavy anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor. Your cleavage spills out from the low-cut v shape of the top, breasts almost on full display because Angela said the men would just love it. You hate it, hate her but there’s not a damn thing you can do about any of it. You’re a slave and nothing more than a fuck toy and a quick money maker for the sex traffickers. 

   You wish you felt more human, but you’re just… not. Most days you can’t even remember your full name, nevertheless your favorite time of year. Being holed up in a horror house for over a year will do that to a girl. Make them forget their entire identity. And that’s exactly what happened to you. 

   Now you’re just… dust. 

   “Alright, boys. Shall we start this off with let’s say, ten thousand dollars?” Garrett’s sharp voice zaps like lightning through your nerves, and your whole body is visibly shaking now. His cold emerald eyes look like a viper about to strike its prey, and his smug smirk makes you want to curl in on yourself, hide yourself so he’ll never be able to torture you again. 

   You hear sounds of squeaking chairs, men cursing under their breath, whistles being thrown around like they’re catcalling you. They are catcalling you. But instead of harmless whistles, they’re poisonous fangs reaching for your skin, trying to seep their venom deep in your veins, claim you as their own. You fucking hate it.

   Taking a deep breath, you focus on the plush of the black carpet around the stage, try to pretend it’s lush green grass instead, like you’re running through the woods, escaping far far away from these bad men.

   “Come on, love. Don’t be shy. Show me those pretty eyes, so I can see just how gorgeous you’ll be down on your knees, pleasuring me with that pretty mouth of yours.” A man vulgarly shouts at you, the other men’s loud laughter echoing around the room, making you want to curl into a ball and die right on the spot so none of these men can lay a finger on you.

   Breathe. Focus. Don’t lose hope. Keep fighting. The words echo through your mind, but you’re so lost that it’s hard to keep going. You’re going to die under one of their hands anyway, so what does it matter? 

   “Did you hear him, princess? Chin up and look at him.” Garrett’s tone is stern and demanding, and you don’t flinch a second because you know what will happen if you do.

   When your eyes snap up, you come face to face with an older man who has cold blue eyes, spiky bleached blonde hair, and a jawline that could cut a man’s body in half. He has an evil glint in his eye, and it’s so revolting that it makes you want to puke. “Ten thousand you say? I’ll take her.” A devilish smirk marks his mouth, and fear strikes through your insides as fast as a lightning bolt. 

   No. Not him. Anyone but him. He looks like he’s murdered people, and you have no doubt that he’s killed women he’s bought before. 

   Fear slices through you, but you can’t run, can’t even move. Your feet are nailed to the wooden floor of the stage, and you know he sees how scared you are in your swirling irises filled with fright.

   “And shall we go up to fifteen thousand? Any takers?” Garrett looks around the room and two hands go up, but you’re too tired to look to see who they are.

   The bets continue, slowly climbing all the way to forty-five thousand dollars. An amount that is insane for a broken body who doesn’t even want to be breathing anymore. 

   Men scream and fight, shouting different prices, trying to win you over, making Garrett slam his fist down and sell you to the highest bidder. You don’t want to listen, don’t want to hear their rambling nonsense anymore. You just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Maybe then you won’t feel any pain anymore. Maybe then you’ll find peace.

   More chants and vulgar noises come from the men’s mouths, their hungry eyes glued to you, their lips smacking and fingers digging into the velvet of their seats. Some men adjust themselves in their fancy suits, tongues darting out, wetting their salivating lips. And it’s so disgusting that it makes you nearly vomit on the floor, but Angela would have your head for that. So you just stand there helplessly and wait because that’s all you can do. 

   You’re their ragdoll, and they can do whatever the fuck they want with you. You have no say and trying to fight would just make everything that much worse. 

   Minutes go by, ridiculous numbers flying around the room, the air stifling and sticky, your body fizzing with anxiety, a panic attack creeping up against the surface, threatening to take you down in mere seconds.

   Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak…

   “Sixty thousand dollars.” Your eyes dart up, panic flashing across your irises. You find a man you hadn’t seen in the very back, and you have to squint to make him out in the shadows of the corner of the room.

   Your mouth nearly drops open at the amount he just said but apparently, these men are dripping with copious amounts of money. 

   You take a few seconds to assess him, your eyes glued to his large form against the velvet recliner he sits in, palms pressed firmly into the sunken arms of the chair. His body is broad, tensed, thick veins spidering down his tanned forearms, a black Rolex watch clasped to his left wrist. He’s clad in a white button-up shirt, black dress pants pressed against sculpted thighs. He’s dressed like all the other filthy rich men, but this one stands out amongst the rest. There’s just something about him that’s different. 

   He drags a heavy hand down his patchy scruff, greying threads shining under the dim light. His tousled sandy hair is slicked back, silver streaks giving away his older age. He looks to be in maybe his late forties, if that. A thick mustache hangs over his plush mouth, but what draws you in the most isn’t anything about his physical appearance but the way he’s looking at you. Soft, gentle brown eyes that have no violence swirling in them like the rest of the men. While the others look at you like a raw piece of meat, he doesn’t follow their lead. In fact, his gaze never hovers, never draws down your body. They just stay locked entirely on your eyes.

   His eyes are soft, dark brown pools with honey flecks glittering in the darkness that surrounds you. They aren’t cold, unfeeling like the rest of the men’s are. They’re… soft. And that alone almost brings you to your knees in relief.

   “Sixty-one thousand,” the spiky blonde hair challenges, piercing his icy blue eyes on you, making you want to hurl at the thought of that one winning you over. 

   “Sixty-two,” the mysterious man in the corner barters. Your eyes snap up to his until you hear Angela’s venomous words spew in your mind. Eyes on the ground unless you’re getting spoken to. Your gaze involuntarily falls to the polished wood, and you hear her click her tongue behind the fancy curtains. You’re nothing but a disappointment to her most days. Never perfect, always pathetic. 

   You bite your lower lip in panic, digging your heel as far into the floor as it’ll go, your nails biting into the palms of your hand, almost to the point of blood being drawn. 

   “Sixty-three!” The blonde pushes out of his chair angrily, his fists balled at his sides, getting frustrated with the man that challenges him. 

   Please, please, please. Don’t let him take me. 

   Praying was something you gave up on long ago but at this moment, you really have nothing left to hold on to. You can only silently beg for the man with brown eyes to win the bid. 

   “Sixty-five,” the brown-eyed man growls, his voice clipped and harsh, letting the blonde know he isn’t going to lose this fight. The blonde glares at him, anger fuming in his icy eyes, a deep snarl embedded in his mouth. You’re almost positive that’s how he’d look night after night hovering over your bed if he were the one to win, but you can’t think about that now. All you can do is wait. 

   “Do I hear sixty-six?” Garrett smiles, his eyes flicking between the two men who look like they’re about to duel in an old western shootout. You already know the brown-eyed man would win. 

   The blonde’s jaw ticks, and he holds back violence in his flexed fingers. After a few unbearable seconds of waiting, he slowly shakes his head and sits back down in defeat. “No. Guess he gets to take home and fuck the whore however he likes.”

   Anger flashes over the broad man’s brown irises, and a murderous stare penetrates his gaze. He clenches a fist tightly, and a part of you thinks he may jump out of his seat and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he doesn’t. And for some reason, your breath is completely knocked from your lungs.

   The deep boom of Garrett’s tone makes you jump from surprise, stirring you from your deep thoughts. “And sold, to the man at the back of the house! Congratulations. You got our rarest gem tonight. Aren’t you so lucky.” 

   The brown-eyed man’s jaw clenches for just a second, but he relaxes it instantly. Walking up to the front of the room, he throws on his pressed black jacket, straightening it as he walks past the deranged men, following Garrett as he leads him to the side where he’ll transfer the money and make it official. You’re his now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

   Angela grabs your elbow harshly, pinching skin and drags you off the stage. She should be happy you just got sold, but she’s still acting like you belong to her. “Look at you getting fought over. You just earned me a shiny paycheck. But don’t forget your place, brat. You’re just a body to these men, and you’re here to please them. Sex is what they want, and your new master will surely punish you even more than all the other men at the house did to you.”

   A sick feeling twists up your stomach, threatening to empty your lunch remains from yesterday on the floor, right on top of her shiny stilettos, but you wouldn’t dare. She’d probably kill you herself before your new buyer even got you in the car.

   Suddenly, you realize you won’t have to deal with her backhanded remarks or abusive commands anymore. No more late nights of being held down on the ground and no more non consensual touching from strangers. 

   A feeling like freedom washes over your senses, relieving you of some tension, but you won't be truly free. Not really because you just got sold, and you know nothing about this man. Even if his eyes were kind doesn’t mean that’s who he really is. Men pretend with you all the time.

   When she pushes you up the stairs that lead to the back of the room, the blonde stands and blocks your way, an angry leer in his eyes while he skims his gaze down your exposed body. Something like panic and sickness stir inside you, an unwelcome hand brushing over your bare thigh, his hand sliding higher under your short skirt. Angela just stands back and lets him take advantage, and you have nowhere to run.

   “Well, looks like I won’t be taking you home after all, but I’m sure your new master won’t mind sharing you before you leave, right?” A sly smirk curls against his thin lips, his eyes smoldering with ice and mischief, making you feel extremely small in the moment.

   “I don’t think..”

   “Shut up, whore,” he silences you, wrapping a tight arm around your waist, snaking his hand higher and higher, brushing his fingertips over the thin material of your lacy thong. Anxiety floods your senses, panic taking over. You try to pull away, but he just presses you tighter against his body.

   Where the fuck is he? Where is your master? You’re not supposed to be touched after being bought, at least not by another man. Unless it’s agreed upon by him explicitly. 

   He skims across the outer edge of your lace, his slimy fingers feeling like hot lava boiling you alive. You want to run, hide, scream into his twisted face, but you have no more fight in you. You’re paralyzed by fright and right now,  Angela doesn’t give a single fuck if one of these sick freaks pins you against the floor and takes advantage of you.

   Right when you feel a warm teardrop leak from your eyes and a long finger pull against the thin fabric, a loud smack echoes around the room, and his body is thrown to the ground, blonde hair flitting across your peripheral vision. Your eyes blow wide when you realize what just happened. Your new master just punched the blonde man’s nose and tackled him to the floor, and you can’t stop staring in complete shock.

   “What the fuck man! What was that for?” The blonde tenses up and pinches his broken nose where blood is spewing on the floor in a thick pool, staining the black cuffs of his suit.

   “Mine,” he growls protectively, shoving him once more for good measure. He pulls himself up from the floor and straightens his button-up, ticking his jaw and scowling at the coward lying in pain on the floor. 

   Your jaw goes slack, and your heart thunders impossibly fast in your chest at what just happened. He saved you from getting taken advantage of. Why would he do that? You should thank him, but you’re stunned in silence. 

   He gives you a once over to make sure you’re unharmed and when he’s content, he tips his head toward the open door, signaling for you to follow. “C’mon.” It’s all he says, but you follow nonetheless, desperate to get out of this cesspool. 

   You take one more glance back at the carnage of the room, collecting the memory of the blood red curtains and taking the fancy velvet seats to your grave. The reflective mirrors make you gag, and the wooden stage makes your legs shake at the implication of what it means to be up on that high platform. It makes you sick to your stomach.

   You were just auctioned off and hopefully, you’d never have to step foot into this room ever again. 

   Trailing after him, you stay close. Close enough to inhale the woodsy cologne that drips off his body. You don’t know why, but there’s an odd comfort in the scent. Like fresh pines and a brisk fall day. Something you haven’t got to experience since… you can’t even remember now.

   The guards at the front let you pass, and it’s almost like it’s a trick. Just one more step and they’d be dragging you back by the crown of your head, not even sorry for ripping strands from your skull. You tense up and wait, but nothing happens. They just let you go. And suddenly, tears are pooling in your vision. 

   You wipe away the evidence, afraid your new master will scold you for shedding a tear. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you have so much trauma embedded in you that it’s like it’s an automatic response. 

   Back at the house, Angela would smack you across the cheek if she caught you crying for any reason. She always said tears were a weakness, and she wouldn’t have one of her girls going into a man’s room looking like a train wreck. So even crying brings out the trauma responses. You fucking hate that you can’t show emotion without getting a whiplash of her snide demands.

   You’re broken, and you don’t think you’ll ever be repairable.

   The air is chilly, a full moon hanging high in the night sky, bright stars blinking every couple of seconds behind grey clouds. The trees are mixed with a swirl of colors: yellows, oranges, deep reds that remind you of the shed blood back at the house.

   You shake your head out of the fog and focus on the smell of fresh air and a hint of spice. It has to be the end of September or October. Maybe November? God, you don’t even know what month it is or where the hell you are. This isn’t home. Not anywhere close at all. You know because there’s no deep green mountains or endless forests in sight. Home is nowhere to be found…

   The tall man walks you to a dark black Chevy, unlocking the passenger door and opening it wide for you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even offer you a hand. He just stares at you with a slight tick to his jaw, tilting his head to signal you forward. Your body responds in an instant. 

   You climb in, feeling the cool leather on your exposed skin, pulling on the bottom of your dress to cover yourself more, but it barely even moves an inch. It’s no use trying. He’ll probably have your dress ripped off in less than an hour. You’re surprised you even made it this far without him pinning you down to your hands and knees. 

   Shaking the sick images from your mind, you let the invading thoughts float far away as he closes the passenger door. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s not like those other men. He couldn’t be. He attacked a man for you, but maybe it’s just because he doesn’t like other men touching his property. 

   That’s what you are. Property. That’s all you’ll ever be.

   It doesn’t take him long to appear in the driver’s seat, clicking his seatbelt into place and turning the key in the ignition, letting the rumble of the engine rev to life. You sit back in the passenger seat and try to breathe, letting air pool into your tight lungs. 

   The inside of the truck may be warm, but your body is freezing just thinking of what that blue-eyed demon was going to do to you back there. Panic consumes your insides, making you violently shake in your seat. Your eyes gloss over and then you feel as if you drown in a frozen lake, frostbite making its way across your flushed skin.

   “Whoa, easy there. S’alright now. You’re alright,” he coos, quickly throwing off his jacket and wrapping you in the warmth, draping your arms through the long sleeves and bundling up inside the blanket-like material. 

   Warm. It’s so warm and for the moment, your body relaxes just enough to relieve yourself of the onslaught panic attack. Your erratic breathing shortens, and then you can finally think clearly again, breaking away from the thick fog.

   Your eyes flick over to his, and there’s nothing but pure concern laced in his golden-brown irises. “You alright?” The question confuses you, and you stare blankly his way. There’s nothing hostile or violent in his eyes. They’re just… soft. Like they were back in the auction room. The first time you stared into anything remotely warm since you were taken.

   He lifts an eyebrow in question, and you finally register that he wants you to answer. “Mhm,” is all you can muster out, your words lodged deep in the back of your throat. Men don’t ask you how you’re feeling, so why is he?

   He looks at you for another beat, nodding his head once before you drop your gaze back to your lap like the submissive you should be. Don’t make eye contact. That’s showing control, and you’re not in control. Angela’s taunting words will follow you to the grave, you just know it. 

   He looks like he wants to say something else, but he holds his tongue and lets the truck roll to the long gravel road ahead.

   A sudden realization hits you like a car crash. No more Angela, no more Garrett, no more assaulters crowding your broken body. You’re free. Of them, at least. But your new master? Not so much. 

   The ride is silent apart from the soft rumble of the truck, tires spinning along the quiet road, moonlight shining through the tinted window, reflecting shiny stars in the side mirrors. You haven’t been outside in months, and the sight of a clear night sky makes you want to burst into tears. 

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His deep, soothing voice lilts into your ears, and you gulp at the sweet nickname he uses.

   Sweetheart. The men back at the house only called you crude, filthy names. Slut, whore, and bitch were their favorites. But no one ever called you sweetheart. Not ever.

   You take a deep breath in before you speak, afraid your vocal cords will shred apart the moment you tell him what it is. But when he looks over at you all soft again, you break. You tell him your name quietly and avert your gaze back down to your pale thighs. 

   Your name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but fight the tug of a smile curling over your lips. He said your name and for once in your life, a little part of you clicked back together. 

   Bravery seeps into your body, and you cautiously peek up and ask something you’ve wondered since you saw his dark brown eyes in the corner of the room. “And your name?”

   His gaze flicks over to you, and for a moment you think his hand might fly out and smack you across the face. You flinch, remembering the sting of every hit your abusers marked you with. Your palm mechanically brushes over your cheek, and you swear you can feel the bright red welts they’d leave on your tainted skin.

   The muscles in his jaw tick as he watches you, assessing your shaky movements. It’s like he can see the pain deep down in your soul, and you don’t understand why he’d care about that. 

   He clears his throat and answers, his eyes attentive to the dark road ahead. “Joel Miller.” 

   You don’t know what to answer to that, so you stay quiet and lean against the window, looking out into the thick fog of darkness. 

   After he sees you trying to decipher your surroundings, his thick Southern drawl fills the quiet. “Do you know what month it is?”

   “No,” you answer solemnly, eyes still focused on the blurring background as the truck drives on.

   “Do you know what state you’re in?”

   “No,” you shake your head, eyes closing for less than two seconds. 

   He sighs, and you see him drag a hand slowly through his scruff. “It’s the middle of October. You’re in Texas. Jus’ a little north of Austin. That’s where we’re headed now. Jus’ about forty minutes away.”

   Texas? Well, that’s a very very long way from home. But you don’t have a home anymore, so what does it matter?

   “Oh.” 

   “Home,” he says hesitantly. “Is it anywhere close to here for you?” 

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and shake your head no, curling in on the warm jacket that envelopes your tired body.

   When you don’t speak again, Joel flicks his eyes slowly to you, his thumb tapping quietly against the leather steering wheel. “Where’s home at, sweetheart?”

   You flinch at the endearing name. It sounds like a knife dragging down a dirty chalkboard if you’re being honest with yourself. You’re nothing but a dirty slut. And that’s exactly what he should be calling you. Not sweetheart, not baby, just… slut.

   When the truck comes to a halt at a dimly lit stop sign, he looks over once more at you, his eyes a dark shade of chocolate. “Washington,” is all you can muster up, thinking you owe him an answer. You can’t even say Seattle without the word getting stuck in your throat. 

   His eyes widen and something like softness resides deep in his warm irises. “You’re an awfully long way from home, aint ya?”

   Quiet. His voice is too quiet, too… sad. And you don’t know what to take that as.

   Tears swim up to the surface, pooling in the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. Don’t show him you’re weak. “I don't have a home anymore…” 

   His mouth turns down in a tight-lipped frown, and he looks so defeated that you can’t quite understand why he would be. He doesn’t care about you. He never will. He’ll bleed you dry until you have nothing left. That’s what Angela said. And it’s ingrained like a sickness that won’t leave your body. Permanent damage that’ll leave scars like the ones that etch the back of your raised skin. 

   You’re nothing but a vacant body to use. 

   “What about your family? They must be lookin’ for you.”

   Your fingers dig into the silk of your dress, and you almost let them tear right through. “I don’t have a family,” you whisper quietly.

   You feel his careful stare waver over you, but you don’t have the energy to look up. “No? Surely someone’s lookin’ for you. They have to be. A girl like you—”

   “A girl like me what?” you snap, quick to pull back your reins. The last thing you want to do is get backhanded from talking too loudly.

   “Take it easy now,” he presses, his voice gentle and soothing. Almost enough to consume some of your sadness. “All I’m sayin’ is someone has got to be searchin’ for you. Your parents?”

   You bite your bottom lip hard, chewing the glossy skin that’s marked with invisible bruises. “My parents are dead.”

   Silence carves through the inside of the moving vehicle, but you hear the faint whisk of shock leave his mouth. “Oh. I’m… fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

   “How could you have? You don’t know me,” you shrug, leaning closer against the smooth interior of the door, your head resting against the cool window that’s doused in fog and sorrow.

   “Well, I’m tryin’, sweetheart. I really am. Do you have anyone else? Maybe an uncle or cousin or—”

   “No,” you interrupt. “They’re all gone… I have nothing.”

   His hands clench tight over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning ghost white, and his jaw ticks like something just deeply upset him. Your eyes fall back to your thighs, but you can feel the weight of his body tightening up against the back of the seat. 

   He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask you any more questions. There’s just a thick silence that encompasses the cool air. And the only thing that keeps you warm now is the comfortable jacket that envelops you like a tight hug. A hug you desperately need. But you don’t want to be touched. 

   Not now, not ever again… 

   You’re almost fading off to sleep, the minutes ticking down painfully slow, but the rustle of gravel stirs you enough to where your eyes snap open in surprise. You gulp at the view in front of you. A large, lavish house with floor to ceiling windows and expensive wood panelling.         

   Your eyes peel to the thick brush of trees that expand into darkness behind the giant house. And for just a second, you feel like running far far away into the expanse of darkness. Maybe it’d swallow you whole till you were nothing but a ghost beneath the ground.

   The truck finally comes to a halt and then the engine cuts off. Your body hums with electricity. The kind that threatens to strike you dead. Joel unlocks the truck with a click, and he tilts his head toward the house. “C’mon. Follow me.”

   Your body hesitates, but the anxiety of lagging behind and getting punished sends you nearly jumping from your seat and out the door of the truck. Your feet hit gravel and you follow silently behind him, eyes fixed to the grass as your high heels click after him. 

   You feel like a puppet he’s strung behind him, your limbs moving without your permission. But he hasn’t done anything to you, so why are you panicking? And then your shoulders hunch with knowing. It’s the trauma that’s engraved like permanent ink from a tattoo deep inside your skin.

   You’ll never be able to escape it. Not even when you’re dead and gone.

   When you get to the front double doors, he slips a key in and turns, pushing it open with the flick of his wrist. Your eyes blow wide when you enter the massive house. A sparkling chandelier hangs high above the entryway. A marble staircase sits to the right side of what looks to be the living room. Polished wood covers every inch of the flooring. Exposed beams fill the ceiling, and the white painted walls don’t seem to have a speck of dirt on any of the surfaces. 

   It’s only a two story house, but it seems much bigger than that. Well over three thousand square feet. But the earthy textures and wooden trimmings of the house make it seem less like a prison and more like a, dare you say, home. 

   Home. This is your home now. And whether you’re happy about it or not, there’s not much you can do. Your body tells you to run, but there’s a tiny slither of a voice inside you that says you’re safe. 

   Safe. A word that means nothing anymore. You haven’t been safe in over a year, and a part of you thinks you’ll never be again…

   “C’mon. I’ll show you where your room is.”

   You stop in the middle of the entryway, your brow furrowed at his sentence. “My room?” 

   He nods. “Yes, your room.” He reiterates the word your, saying it like it’s spelled out in capital letters. You think he does it for your sake, to let you know again that this is a safe place.

   “You mean I don’t have to sleep in your room…” Your voice betrays you. Fear and panic flooding your eyes at the thought of having to be forced into another man’s bed. You quickly shake the awful memories from your thoughts, afraid to slip into another panic attack.

   His jaw clenches up, but his eyes soften into warm pools of brown when he sees the distress in your wide eyes. “No, darlin’. Not gonna make you do that.”

   “Oh,” is all you can muster out. That’s… new.

   He nods his head to the staircase, and you take that as your cue to follow. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t put his hand on the small of your back, doesn’t make you go first so he can stare up your dress. And you can’t decipher why he bought you in the first place. 

   Maybe he’s waiting till later to snatch you away into his room, maybe drag you to the floor and climb on top of you. The flashbacks make you sick to your stomach, and you’re having a hell of a time keeping it all inside. 

   You distract yourself with the rustic art that hangs on the pristine walls, reflecting off the marble staircase you climb. Pictures of deer, horses, shiny lakes, deep green forests, like the ones in Washington, scatter around the walls in various shapes. And it calms the anxiety that’s rolling like a violent storm through your mind. 

   A long, dimly lit hallway stands at the top of the steps, another sits on the opposite side of the long archway that overlooks a grand living room, leather couches, and a grand piano sitting in the left corner, right next to a picturesque window that overlooks a sea of trees. It’s just as lavish as other men’s homes, the ones where they’d throw parties for all their friends to indulge in the trafficked girls, but this one doesn’t feel like that at all, strangely. 

   His low timbre pulls you out of the fog, and you find him standing by an open door, the first one on the left. “This is where you’ll be stayin’ at.”

   You follow him into the room and gasp at what lies ahead of you. A queen-sized bed with clean white sheets and a light purple comforter sits in the middle of the room, some new clothes folded neatly on the edge of the bed. A walk-in closet sits to the left side of the room, and it looks to be fully stocked with a colorful array of shoes and clothes that still have their tags connected to the material. To the right is a large bathroom that smells like fresh roses and fragrant perfume, but you’re too stunned to walk in and see. The walls are painted in soft muted colors, and the lilac curtains drape loosely over the expansive back window. You almost cry when you see a sea of dark trees in the distance. They remind you of home. 

   You miss Washington, you miss when you had a home, you miss having a family…

   “I bought you some clothes. Hopefully they fit alright. If not then I can get you more, but I’m hopin’ you feel comfortable in them.”

   Your fingertips trace over the soft material of the various shades of t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, and shorts, your brain muted and fuzzy because there’s not a gown or short dress in sight anywhere in the room. That’s all you wore back at the house, all you know how to wear. And the sight of comfortable, unrevealing clothes makes your eyes glossy with tears. 

   You feel his weight shift behind you, but yet he still stands more than a foot back, not daring to touch you. You should thank him, get down on your knees and show him just how much you appreciate this, but you can’t. Because the thought of that makes you want to throw yourself over the lavish wood railing of the staircase. Angela would be so disappointed in you.

   When you say nothing, he clears his throat and then you turn to face him. “You must be starvin’. Let me go fix you something. You like chicken?”

   Your jaw drops, and you’re stunned silent from the ask. He’s asking if you like chicken? 

   He gives you a minute to respond, but all you can squeak out is, “What?”

   “Do you like chicken?” His voice comes out softer, more tender. Why isn’t he raising his voice? Why isn’t he smacking you across the cheek for taking too long to answer him? 

   “I—I… yes,” you finally whisper out, your eyes glued to the shine of his polished boots. 

   “Okay then. It’s settled. I’ll get something fixed up real quick. You can come down when you’re ready. Jus’ please, feel free to wear what you want. Find something comfortable, whatever it may be. All these clothes are yours now. I imagine you wanna get out of that dress you’re in.” His eyes flick down to your midnight blue dress for just a second, but he doesn’t lock his eyes on your body. No. There’s a flash of something like hurt in his deep brown eyes. 

   You tug his fancy black jacket further around you, letting its warmth wrap you tight to keep away the flashbacks of grabbing hands and torn shreds of material on the floor while your body was torn apart…

   “Hey.” His mellow voice breaks you away from the nightmarish thoughts. “You okay?” A deep wrinkle furrows against his tanned forehead, and something like concern washes down his soft brown eyes.

   “Mhm,” you hum, suddenly realizing you’re still wearing his jacket. You quickly shed it and try to hand it off to him, afraid he’d rip it from your body if you kept it on for too long.

   He presses a palm out to stop you and just shakes his head, a tousled curl escaping the gel in his slicked back sandy hair. “Keep it.” 

   Your outstretched arm falls to the side and so does the jacket to the floor. He pays no mind to it falling to the ground, not even flinching when it hits the plush carpet. Why didn’t he scold you for dirtying up his things?

   “I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll let you have some space. And please, take your time.” He turns and walks out the door, letting it shut softly. And then you’re all alone, in a strange place that’s now yours. 

   Your eyes don’t lift till he’s gone, a bad habit that’s been ingrained into your very core. You’re not supposed to look them in the eye, not unless they say. But Joel? He doesn’t tell you to keep your eyes on the ground. 

   Slowly casting your eyes away from the cream carpet, you find yourself at the edge of the bed again, your fingertips hovering over a pair of grey sweats and a navy t-shirt. Turning around to make sure the door is still closed, you quickly peel off the midnight blue dress that’s tainted from dirty hands and prying eyes. You let it fall to the floor in a messy heap and throw on the large t-shirt and comfy sweatpants. 

   Looking at your bare arms, you decide it’s not enough, so you find a dark grey jacket deep in the closet and zip it up to the very top, so no exposed skin or scars are left to be seen by his dark eyes. You still feel completely bare, even with a pair of long pants and a long sleeved jacket. But that’s because in the last year, even if you did have actual clothes on, they were just torn away and ripped apart, and you have the scars to prove it.

   Carefully bending down and picking up the wadded up dress, you smooth it out and run your fingers over the sheer material, almost tempted to put it back on because that’s what you should be wearing. Not some oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You don’t look presentable, not in these clothes. You should always dress to entertain the men, always have your hair perfect and your makeup just right, always have a smile on your face and say thank you for every single thing they do to you…

   Your body starts to shake violently as you look up to find yourself standing in the reflection of the closest mirror, the mini dress held up to your body, fingers curling over the muddled memories of dinner parties that ended with you and other innocent girls faces down on the table with your legs spread.

   Your bottom lip trembles as you look at the twenty-seven-year-old girl staring back in the mirror. You don’t recognize her anymore. Stained blood red lips and long wavy curls, your eyeliner smudging, and the dark creases beneath your eyes telling you just how exhausted and battered your body is. You’re wrecked. Completely and utterly shattered, torn to shreds. And you just don’t know how you’ll ever find yourself again. Because the girl you knew before is long gone. And now? Now you just feel… lost. 

   The tears that pool in your eyes fall like raindrops that pelt the outside window, your body humming with anxious thoughts and a blur of emotions. And the dress burns like fire beneath your palms; every second you hold it brands another forgotten memory into your brain, and then you just crack like shattered glass.

   You tear the dress to shreds, taking out all your anger and resentment on the sheer material, pulling it apart till it’s only unrecognizable scraps on the floor. And you let your tears soak them, stain them just like every single one of those men did to your body. Even Angela. 

   You hate them, you hate yourself, you hate the way they made you feel. Useless and disgusting, a piece of meat they could chew on whenever they pleased. 

   You spend the next half hour crying over what you did, regretting ruining the dress, the one thing you could’ve kept with you, a fragile memory that you should’ve held on to. But that wouldn’t be healing to you. But at this rate, you don’t think you ever will heal.

   You forget about dinner, forget where you even are. Joel had to come get you and lead you down to the kitchen. And yet, he still didn’t touch you. Not even once. And you just don’t understand why he won’t touch you. Not that you want to be touched. You don’t. You just expect it now. 

   When you finally make it to the kitchen, you decide on a black barstool and take your place there at the sleek kitchen island that’s swirled in shiny white quartz. And when he sets a warm plate of chicken Alfredo noodles and a glass of cold water in front of you, you just stare with wide-eyes at the hot meal before you. 

   The savory Alfredo dinner taunts you as it sits right in front of you, screaming at you to just take one bite. Your stomach churns and rumbles with the scent of a put together homemade meal. When was the last time you had one of those? Maybe two years ago. 

   You keep your eyes peeled to the polished wooden floor, your fingers twisted tight against the sweatpants that hang loosely around your thighs. Your body is yelling at you to eat, but you can’t make yourself move, can’t do anything. You were never allowed carbs back at the house, wasn’t even allowed to eat until the men were done. Angela once pulled your hair and pushed your face into the floor when you dared to take a bite before they were finished. And now you can’t even get yourself to chance that again. Even if Joel never would, you feel as if Angela will come charging around the corner just waiting for you to make one wrong move. 

   You’re so very broken…

   “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can make you something else.” Joel’s voice is etched in concern, but you only have the strength to shake your head. 

   “No. It’s fine. It’s—it’s great. It’s just…” Your breath is shaky, just like your hands. And you can’t seem to look up from the floor. 

   Don’t ever look them in the eyes. You’re not in control. You have no power. You flinch at Angela’s spiteful words. You wish you could just drown them out, forget everything she ever taught you. 

   “You haven’t even touched your food, sweetheart.” A tear licks at the corner of your eye, but you don’t dare let it fall. 

   “I—uhh. I…” You’re pathetic. You can’t even look him in the eye at the table. Not even when he’s standing across from you, staring at you with those soft brown eyes you know are boring into yours. 

   “Can you look up for me, sweetheart?” The pain in his deep timbre cracks something inside you, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “There ya go. Attagirl.” You wince at the word because it sounds like praise, and you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be scolded. 

   “Wanna tell me why you’re not eating?” You choke on your voice when you see those soft brown honey eyes. You’ve never been looked at quite like that. Not with kindness or concern or anything genuine before. And it makes you want to cry.

   You take a deep, steady breath and pray you can muddle some coherent words out because you’re about to spill something very personal that you’re not quite ready to share. “Back at the house… they wouldn’t let us eat until the men were done. We—we’d get punished if we disobeyed.” You flinch at the painful memories but press on. “We weren’t allowed to eat carbs. And some days they’d just starve us to teach us a lesson. I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent meal…”

   Joel’s fingers flex against the sink, his nails digging into the metal, his jaw clenched and something like pain and understanding lit up in his honey-colored eyes. He looks like he actually feels your pain, and you can’t comprehend how he’d possibly know what that pain is like. 

   He nods his head and darts his tongue along his bottom lip in response. “I uhh—Jesus. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s fuckin’ awful. I can’t imagine how that must’ve been. But please, eat. You’re allowed to eat anything you want now. You want sweets, sugar, greasy pizza? Then it’s yours. You’re allowed to eat in peace here. There’s no rules in this house. I want you to be able to eat. So please, don’t ever wait for me. You jus’ go on and enjoy.” 

   It takes you a couple of minutes to find enough courage to pick up the silver fork, but you do it. And that right there is a step in the right direction. 

   The first bite slides down your throat slowly and when you swallow, it’s like a slice of heaven to your insides. You quickly take another, devouring the delicious noodles, letting the savory taste melt against your tastebuds, groaning silently at what a real meal should taste like. It’s not cold soup or oatmeal or dry lettuce. It’s actual food. 

   You somehow forget Joel is watching, and it takes you two whole seconds until your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. He’s looking straight at you, watching you enjoy from a safe distance, and you swear you see a small smile curled against his lips. He hasn’t even touched his food. All he seems to care about is that you’re eating. And that makes you feel extremely guilty.

   You take a paper napkin and wipe the Alfredo sauce from your lips, letting the red lipstick smear across the napkin, suddenly fully aware you just ruined your makeup. 

   Flashbacks of getting slapped across the face course through your body, making you sick to your stomach. Don’t smear your makeup, filthy little slut. Go back to your room and make yourself presentable before our guests arrive. Another sharp smack stings your cheek, and you find yourself cradling your cheek like it just now happened to you.

   Panic blindly traces every inch of your body, anxiety creeping in as your heart palpitates at an alarming pace. You ate without Joel, you didn’t wait, you ruined your makeup. Oh God, you’re in so much trouble. Safe. You’re not safe. You need to run, you need to…

   “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel’s concerned voice whips through your mind, and that’s enough for you to drop your fork in alarm on the floor, your eyes wild with fright. 

   You’re not safe, you’re not safe, you’re not safe. He’ll hurt you. Run.

  You pull back the barstool and stand, your back tense and fingernails digging into the kitchen island. “W—Why are you being nice to me? Why did you cook for me? Why aren’t you starving me?!”

   His body tenses, just like yours, and his eyes swim with concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be jus’—”

   “Why aren’t you using me? Use me! Tell me to spread my legs, tell me to get on my knees, tell me I’m worthless!” You scream, letting your voice echo around the clean kitchen, feeling as if your panic attack might take you out this time around. 

   “No.” His voice is careful, quiet, not at all stern.

   “No?” you mewl, feeling the tears prick the back of your eyes.

   “No,” he repeats, softer than before.

   Your hands shake, and you need to find something to hold to soothe your whirring anxiety. So you grab the glass that’s half full of water. “Use me! Tell me I’m nothing! Tell me I don’t matter!”    

   He shakes his head slowly, his eyebrows knit together in rapt attention, eyes crinkling. “You do matter. Don’t for a second think that you’re—”

   “Just fucking use me!” You slam the glass to the floor, letting it shatter into tiny pieces just like your heart looks like. Broken and fractured. You fall to the floor, crying out when a piece slices through your palm, letting the pain serenade your insides, reminding you of all the times you saw red back at the house. 

   The tears splash against your cheeks, falling to the floor like droplets from a waterfall. But you can’t find the strength to let them stop. You’ve held them in for so long; there’s no more room to keep them tucked away inside.  

   Your eyes widen when you realize the mess you made. You broke his belonging, completely shattered it in pieces. He should have your fucking neck for this, and you cower just thinking of the beating he might give you. “Oh my God. The glass. Fuck, the glass. I’m so… s—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” You frantically try to pick the pieces up, but all you do is tear another cut open in the same palm. And now blood stains the dark wood. Fuck. 

   Joel’s at your side in a second, kneeling beside you, trying to calm you down the best he can without alarming you. “Shhh. S’alright. It’s fine. I don’t care about the broken glass.”

   “But I made a mess. I broke your belongings. And I should be punished. I should…” Your voice fades off as the tears blur your vision, completely breaking you just like the scattered shards of glass that surround you. 

   He shakes his head slowly and places his palm flat on the ground, so close but yet so far from brushing against you. “No. Don’t think for one minute you deserve that, sweet girl. Don’t for one fuckin’ minute believe any of that. S’not true. None of it is.”

   “But—but I… No, I—I can fix this. I can clean this up, I can…” Your words come out jumbled and muddled, and the panic still writhes high throughout your body, making you want to crawl out of your scarred skin.

   “Sweetheart, shhh. S’alright. I promise I’m not here to harm you. Jus’ let me clean you up. Your hand. Jus’—let me help you. Please.” His voice is calm, collected, and you have a hard time looking up because you know those deep brown eyes will only make you cry harder.

   You feel his fingertips brush against your wrist, and you jolt back in panic, eyes wide with retaliation. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” you choke, whining as another piece of glass digs into your hand like a knife carving its way deep into your bones. It fucking hurts, but you’ve taken worse. You can manage the pain. 

   He lifts his arms in the air like he’s surrendering, showing you he means no harm. But your body doesn’t know the difference anymore. All you’ll ever know is how to continue to take the pain. 

   “Please. I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you. Let me take care of your hand. Let me help you.” He draws out the last word, the syllables dragging like sweet honey across his tongue. And he sounds genuine like he really does want to help you.

   You have no more fight left in you, no energy to give. So all you do is nod your head and whisper out a defeated, “Okay.”

   “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you up off the floor.” He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re staining his white button-up red. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about it.

   Your body revolts against his touch, but he’s so warm that you don’t fight it. He smells like firewood and scented pine trees, and that’s enough to keep you calm in his arms. You just nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and let your tears stain the dark stubble of his patchy beard. 

   “There ya go. Easy now. You’re alright,” he coos gently, lulling you into a calm state.

   You’re freezing cold, even underneath the layers of clothes that wrap like thick vines around your body. But somehow, the warmest thing right now is being in his arms... 

   You’re completely and utterly vulnerable but just for a second, you relax into his strong arms and breathe in the mahogany scent of him. The man that got you out before you completely shattered. For just this moment, you give in to what you really need. Warmth and safety. 

   He feels safe.

   And for the next couple of minutes that it takes for him to get you across the house and up the stairs, you fade into his warmth, blocking out every single panicked and anxious thought. For just those few seconds, you breathe, letting the unruly voices in your mind die out. 

   For just that minute, you’re safe. 

   You come back to yourself the moment he sets you down on a white step stool, warily telling you to hold still, your palm open over the bathtub, blood running down the porcelain material, staining the walls with the crimson of your stupid mistakes. 

   You did this. Your fault, all your fault. You should have never broken the glass, should’ve never lashed out, but you did. And you guess this is how you’ll always be now. A hollow body that just doesn’t know how to live a normal life anymore. 

   You wince as Joel drags the washcloth slowly over your open wound, tears swimming in your eyes the more he tries to assess it, searching for any pieces of glass that may be stuck deep in your hand. And you don’t know why he’s doing this after you had a meltdown because he wouldn’t make you pleasure him. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this how your brain just operates now? After being stuck in that god awful house, this is what it does to you? 

   You don’t want to be used anymore. You don’t even want to be fucking touched by a man ever again. So why did it hit a nerve after he refused to tell you that you were nothing? 

   “Ouch,” you whine, tensing as he washes the open wound with soap and water, apologizing each time he goes over the sore area. 

   “M’sorry. Jus’ hold on, I’m almost done. Good news is I don’t see any glass in your cut. S’good. Means I can jus’ clean you up and wrap it for tonight. Might be sore for a couple days, but you’ll be fine,” he assures you, working meticulously to fix you up. 

   You flinch each time his calloused fingers brush against your hand, struggling to not push him away. You don’t want to be touched by anyone, especially not by a man. But you can’t shake how warm he felt when he was carrying you to your room. He wasn’t mean, wasn’t rough, wasn’t even hostile. He was just… gentle. Just like he’s being now with each careful graze of his fingertips to your fragile skin. 

   And even though ninety percent of you can’t stand the thought of him being this close to you, you don’t seem to hate him. Not even a little bit. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saved you. 

   You don’t trust him, you don’t trust anyone. He could turn on you in a second, show you his true colors. But again, he would’ve already done that. Wouldn’t he?

   “How old are you, sweetheart?” he asks, carefully drying your cut with a clean towel.

   “Twenty-seven,” you whisper out, wincing once more from the pressure on your palm.

   “And your birthday? When’s that?”

   You watch his brown eyes flick up to yours, and your gaze drops immediately back to your lap. “January 22nd.”

   He takes a minute before the next question comes, diligently wrapping your hand in a gauze padding. “How long you been gone now? Do you know?”

   You chew on your bottom lip and hold back a tear, trying your best not to fall apart all over again. “A little over a year and a half…” you respond in a muffled tone. “I wouldn’t have even known my birthday passed. But they—they were sure to remind me. Because I was—I was…” you can’t even finish your sentence without a tear slipping down your cheek, holding on for that sliver of sanity you have buried deep inside you.

   His brown eyes gloss over into a deeper shade of brown, and his eyebrows furrow in concern as he stops what he’s doing so he can put his full attention on you. You decide to finish your sentence, needing to get it out of your system. Hoping it’d be a way to forget as soon as the words left your tongue. “They—they had me bent over a table the entire day while a vanilla cake with the numbers twenty-seven taunted me while they ate it in front of me. And then they—-they…” a sob chokes you up, and tears trail like rain down your face, landing on top of Joel’s hand that sits atop his knee.

   “Hey, hey, hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to. I’m—fuck. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I jus’ can’t imagine what sick fuck would do that to you or any girl at that. I’m so sorry.” His deep voice is full of pity and heartache, and his chocolate eyes make you want to cry even more.

   You dip your head in anguish and sigh. “Yeah, me either. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I…”

   He interrupts you, hovering his hand over yours like he wants to comfort you, but you flinch away at the notion. “Shh. No, sweetheart. You never ever deserved any of that. Not in the least bit.”

   You scuff your bare feet against the tile floor, reaching for anything that might keep you from tipping past the breaking point, but you’re way over the edge. You’re all the way at rock bottom. 

   The searing question bubbles up again in your stomach. The one question you’ve been dying to know ever since he called out that number. And you can’t go another minute without knowing. “Why did you do it?”

   “Do what?” he asks, an eyebrow arched in question.

   “Why did you buy me? You could’ve left me with the blonde. You could’ve walked out empty handed.” Your voice is raised, but you keep your composure from sliding again, not wanting another broken glass incident.

   “I wasn’t gonna do that,” he presses, his lips in a tight line, jaw ticking with a dark look in his eyes.

   “You paid thousands of dollars for me. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just—”

   He stops you right there, a sad look blanketing his face. “‘Cause. My daughter, Sarah. She… she went through the same thing you did. And I couldn’t fuckin’ stand by and watch the same thing happen to you.”

   Your lips part wide, and a gasp leaves your throat. His daughter was taken? “Oh.” That’s all you can say for the moment. You’re stunned in silence.

   Holy shit.

   You try to find one sliver of pretense, a glimmer in his eye that could prove he’s lying. But the way his face falls and his eyes drop to the floor in agony, like he’s in physical pain, you find no lie. He’s telling the truth.

   “Is she still…”

   “Yes,” he nods, eyes in a far off place. “She’s alive.”

   “When did she…”

   He takes a deep breath and flexes his hand over the side of the tub, holding on to something solid while he gets into the thick of what happened to his daughter. “She was taken young. She was only fifteen, taken right under my nose at the mall. She was just walkin’ to the bathroom. It took less than five minutes. And I—fuck. If I would’ve jus’ watched her walk in and stood outside the door. She would’ve never been taken in the first place…”

   He drops his head in defeat, and you feel your eyes widen in shock. You don’t know what rushes over you, but the way his soft brown eyes tear up make yours do the same thing. “Joel?” you choke out, tears stinging against your lash line. “I’m—really sorry that happened. And as much as you might blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

   He looks up with teary eyes and a deep frown, nodding. “Wish I could come to terms with that. But… she made it out. I found her and got her out. And that’s what matters.”

   “How old is she?” you ask quietly, your left hand brushing over your fresh bandage, careful not to tear the material. 

   “She’s twenty now. Livin’ down in Houston, startin’ her sophomore year of college, and workin’ as a part time vet tech at a clinic specializin’ in horses. She absolutely loves it,” he smiles, his eyes turning into a lighter brown the more he talks about how much she’s grown over the years, leaving behind her trauma.

   “That’s incredible. More than incredible. Just—wow,” you breathe out, your eyes casted down to the floor, wishing you could heal like that. But at this rate, you don’t think you’ll ever get over the immense trauma that occurred to your body and mind.

   He licks his bottom lip in thought, his eyes burning into yours. And you see it even out of the corner of your eye. He’s concerned for you. “It took her a long time to adjust back to a normal life. We had a rocky time there for ‘bout a year, but she got the help she needed. She was only gone a couple months, but that was more than enough time to give her PTSD and mentally scar her. But she’s shining now, finally at a place where normal life isn’t as scary as it used to be.”

   Another tear slips free and splashes to the floor, creating a tiny puddle of your shattered heart that’s made of tears. “I’m so happy for her. Sarah sounds amazing.”

   “Mmm, that she is. I’m gonna give you her number. Think it’d be good for you to connect with someone who’s been through something as traumatic as this.”

   Your mouth gapes open, and you tilt your chin up until you come face to face with him. And he looks… kind. He is kind. “But I don’t have a phone anymore…”

   “I’ve already got one ordered and on the way for you.”

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. He gives you a small smile that curls against his lips. And you nearly sob from the gentle way he’s looking at you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

   “Yes, I did. And I have a therapist on speed dial. Her name’s Tess. She’s the best of the best. If there’s one therapist I trusted with Sarah then it’s her. Trust me, Sarah went through a lot of them, and Tess was the most helpful. And she’s helped so many other girls, too. Not just Sarah.”

   Other girls? Did he help get other girls out? You have so many questions. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

   “‘Cause I wanna help you,” he states simply, his thumb tapping against the side of the tub, eyes focused right on you.

   “But why? I’m… nothing,” you whisper, bottom lip quivering, afraid you’ll break down in tears once again. And you most likely will. You feel it deep in your bones.

   He shakes his head in response. “Sweetheart, no. Don’t say that ‘bout yourself. You’re not nothing. You’re somebody, and you matter. Whether you believe it or not, you matter.” His words are definitive, final, but his voice is as soft as cotton candy.

   “I… matter?” you ask, voice shaky from the kaleidoscope of emotions that pummels through you.

   He nods, eyes alight and glittering under the bright bathroom lights, a soft smile curled on his lips. “Do you know what I saw when you were standin’ in the middle of that room tonight? I saw a young woman that was worth saving. I saw a light deep inside those pretty eyes of yours that was jus’ screamin’ for someone to hear you. I heard you. And I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you there to be preyed on by those starvin’ wolves. So I got you out.”

   You’re breathless, lips parted in awe. “But—but I…”

   “Look. You may not be fine tomorrow or next week, but someday—someday you will be. And I’ll try my damn near hardest to make sure you are. And if you’ll let me, I’ll see that you’re kept safe. Whether you choose to leave next week or next month or in a year. I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you feel safe and that you can learn to thrive in life again. Trust me when I say you will get there. Jus’ gotta take it one step at a time. That’s all you can do. One day at a time.”

   Tears pool in your eyes, soaking them up like the promise of his words. I’ll keep you safe. He wants you to stay, to heal, to thrive. He’s trying to help you, and you just don’t know what you did to deserve his help, but you’re eternally grateful. And even though you’re scared, maybe you don’t have to be scared of him.

   After he puts away the gauze and the bathroom supplies he used to clean your hand with, he lets you get settled into bed. But before he walks out, he raps his knuckles on the doorway and clears his throat. “My room is jus’ across the hall if you need anything. I’ll be up, so don’t hesitate if you need something.”

   You nod your head, pulling the fluffy comforter up to your chin, too tired to give him a smile.

   He tilts his head and starts heading out the door, but before he can turn the doorknob all the way, you call out. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, turning his head, directing his full attention your way.

   “Thank you,” you whisper, your eyes telling him everything that your words can’t.

   He curls his lips into a half smile and nods. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” And when he walks out and closes the door, you hear him say, “Sleep tight.”

   You want to know more about how he found Sarah, what he meant when he said he’s helped other girls before, how he found you in the first place. But you’re tired. You’re so fucking drained. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find the strength to pull yourself together and ask but not tonight. Tonight you just want a full night’s sleep. Something you haven’t had since you were taken. So you close your eyes, focus on the soft patter of rain on the window, put all your anxious thoughts to the side and drift into the dark depths of a sea of blackness. 

   And then you sleep.

   Hot pain shoots through your wrists like a jagged knife splitting you open, painting you scarlet. Dirty fingernails shred your skin, clawing you until you taste blood in the back of your throat. You can’t speak, can only silently scream. A muted cry for help that no one else can hear but you. Chains fasten to your ankles, pulling your legs apart, grimy men surrounding you, suffocating you until you seep into the the blackest pit of despair. 

   Trapped. You’re held captive against your will, your body on full display, eyes wide with fright every time they snake their filthy hands around your throat, hot breath fanning against your core until you scream bloody murder over and over again. 

   But no one comes; no one saves you from this pit of hell. 

   Dead. You feel dead, and they just keep bringing you back from the grave with every touch they steal. 

   You thrash against the sheets, screaming for help, tears staining the brand new comforter, but you’re still trapped in the horrific nightmare with the demons of your past torturing you way beyond the point of pain.

   “No, no, no! Get off!” you cry as you feel a body dip into the side of the bed, drastically trying to escape what’s to come. “Stop, stop!”

   A voice. Deep, intense, wrecked sounds in your fuzzy mind, trying to grasp you out of your nightmare.

   “Wake up. Wake up.” It’s muddled, almost unrecognizable. But it’s insistent, a loud gong that spirals into your racing mind.

   “No, no, let go!” you mewl, twisting violently in the sheets when you feel the mattress dip down further, spiraling your thoughts further.

   “Sweetheart, wake up. Please. You have to wake up!” He shouts, stirring you from your nightmare, but the men reach for you, dragging you back under the thrashing waves, but you extend your arm, fighting the tossing sea, battling the teeth that gnash at you. 

   “Stop, let go!” Your flesh stings as they continue to tear you apart, dragging you down down down until that sweet Southern drawl that sounds like honey resonates throughout your mind, and the fog starts to clear just a little. 

   “It’s me, I’m right here. Open your eyes, please!” Deep. That thick baritone voice crashes through your mind, pulling you away from all the insufferable noises.

   Your eyes snap open, realizing you’re pounding your fists into his broad chest, barely making a dent because he’s that strong. And then your anxiety races, building horrific hallucinations in your mind. And you just keep throwing everything you have at Joel, tears spilling down your cheeks, your t-shirt drenched in a cold sweat. 

   “The men… They—they…” You choke out a sob, continuously throwing your arms against his chest, taking everything you have bottled up inside you and spilling it all over Joel, showing just how bloodied and bruised you are from the traumatic events. 

   The stage, the men, Angela, the blood, the torture, the misery, the deaths, the excruciating pain of it all. It’s too fucking much, and you just want to die. Maybe then you’ll be at peace, away from the weight of everything you’ve kept resting on your shoulders. Like a rock weighing down on your chest, crushing you till you’re nothing but dust. You feel like dust. Faded, dirty, and useless.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. It was jus’ a nightmare. You’re safe,” he soothes, his calming voice bubbling up and taking some of the anxiety off your weighted chest. 

   “But it was real…” you choke out, your vision blurring with the salty water that forms in your eyes. 

   A tear slips free, crashing down to his hand, smothering it in cold, icy liquid. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even back away. He just stays sitting next to you, careful not to touch you or reach for you. He’s just… there. And somehow there’s comfort in that. 

   He stares at you like a lost puppy, chocolate eyes melting, tears filling his own concerned eyes. And you keep hitting him, your hands growing tired from the balled up fists punching against his chest. And he just sits there and takes it, like it doesn’t bother him one bit.

   “Let it out. Give me your pain. I can take it, sweetheart. You jus’ take it out on me. As long as you need. You want a punchin’ bag then let me be that for you. Whatever helps, you jus’ go on and let go,” he says softly, brows threaded together, big doe eyes consumed in pain. It’s like he’s as wrecked as you are, and that makes you cry even harder. 

   “Joel…” you break, dropping your tired arms to the bed, curling your fingers into the soft comforter, trying to lose yourself in the soft rain that pelts the back of the window. 

   You’re so tired and drained and ruined. They ruined you, and you hate every single one of them for taking away everything. Your dignity, your pride, your body, your life, your mind. They took everything.

   “I know, sweet girl. I know. Shhh. S’alright. I’m right here. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here,” he whispers, his woodsy scent grounding you back to earth, calming you down just enough to focus on how soft his eyes are.

   Soft. Just like velvet. He’s so soft.

   He just sits there patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, waiting to know you’re okay. But you’re not okay; you never will be okay. You’re just a tree in a sea of thousands, but your branches are withered, leaves falling, and maybe you’ll never bloom again. 

   You focus on his soft brown eyes, the light tap of raindrops, your erratic breathing slowing to a normal pace. You’re so tired. Tired of fighting the panic attacks, the flashbacks, the pain.

   You’re just… tired.

   “You gonna be alright, sweetheart? Think you can get back to sleep?” he asks thoughtfully, his voice warm like a fresh cup of coffee, his scent permeating around the room, keeping you from spiraling again. 

   You take a deep breath and nod, pulling the comforter under your chin, trying to control the chill that runs down your spine. “I think so,” you say slowly, your voice still a little shaky.

   He tilts his head and scratches the back of his neck, a tight-lipped smile forming over his lips. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep then. You come knock on my door if you need me.”

   When he pushes off your bed and pads over to the open door, he calls out and says, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

   Panic consumes your mind just thinking of being alone again with your nightmares, your body trembling underneath the warm sheets. And before you know what you’re thinking, you stop Joel in his tracks. “Joel?”

   And just like before, he turns and arches a brow, questions reeling in his calm brown eyes. “Hmm?”

   “Can you… would you mind staying with me? I just… I really don’t want to be alone.” Your voice is shaky and nerves pull through your body, but for some reason his presence just gives off that impression of safety. 

   You don’t trust him yet, not really. But he’s got the softest aura swirling around him, and you just know he won’t hurt you. He’s already proved that.  

   You’re safe…

   He smiles, running a hand through his thick curls, his bicep flexing under the weight of the white t-shirt, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You might’ve thought he was handsome under different circumstances, if your brain wasn’t ruined from trauma, but the only thing that seems to capture your attention is his soft brown eyes. The only kind ones that were in that auction room tonight. 

   “‘Course I will, sweetheart. Whatever makes you feel safe,” he says, walking over and sinking down into the champagne colored saucer chair by the open door, eyes locked on you. 

   You mold yourself to the cool mattress, the sheets wrapping loosely around your legs. You stare at him for a couple of minutes, using his woody scent to calm you down. He reminds you of Washington, of your favorite pine trees. He smells like home, when you had one. Tears line your lids, but you close your eyes and get lost in the rain, until your breathing is shallow and slow. And then you’re out like a light.

   He keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching for any signs that you may be in distress. Every whimper and strangle against the sheets makes him jump up, ready to take you from your vicious nightmares, but they don’t come. Not like the one that had you screaming bloody murder, tears staining your pretty eyes. 

   Scared. You’re so very scared, fragile. Just like the glass that ripped you open, staining his white button-up crimson. He hates that that’s how they made you feel. Afraid of men, to be broken again. They took it all from you and he fucking hates them for it. 

   They hurt you, ruined you. It makes him sick to his stomach, makes him want to hunt down every single man who put their filthy hands on your sacred body. He’d chop their hands off so they could never touch you again, take a gun and end their pathetic lives. That’s what he did with Sarah’s kidnappers, when he found out who took his precious daughter. And he’d do it for you too. In fact, he’d search the whole goddamn map to wring the necks of any man who even thought of putting their filthy paws on you.

   He’s not against violence, not when he spends half his time working to take down auctioneers and human traffickers. And the blonde man that tried to violate you tonight would be the first to go. That one he’ll take down himself. 

   He stays up the entire night, never letting his eyes close, afraid you’d start drowning again. But he won’t let you slip beneath the rocky waves; he’ll keep your head above water, pull you out, do his very best to make you feel safe.

   Safe. You’re safe here with him. And even if you don’t trust him yet, you will. He’ll make sure of it. He saw the absolute terror in your eyes on that stage, and he just couldn’t leave you with the venomous snakes in that house. You have a long road ahead of healing, but he’ll be there to help you through it. 

   A beautiful girl like you deserves a second chance at life, and he’ll give it to you. Pretty flowers don’t deserve to wilt. They deserve to thrive. 

   And you will. 

Tagging those who seemed interested 🩷 @joelsgreys @amyispxnk @whxtedreams @clawdee @jellybeanxc

@lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra @sawymredfox @sanarsi

@christinamadsen @missannwinchester @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69

@milla-frenchy @magpiepills @604to647

[syncaleb]

a little self indulgent but… since i am a nail extensions connoisseur-> i love thinking about how caleb would help me through it! <3

caleb being your acrylic prince: headcanons

🍎 buttoning your tops (and unbuttoning too)

he’s so focused when he helps you button your blouse in the morning, brows furrowed like he’s solving a world crisis. “hold still, pipsqueak,” he murmurs, trying not to touch your skin too much… but whoops, his fingers linger just a little bit when brushing against your collarbone. he can’t help it, he is touchstarved and you are the only person who helps him feel better hmph!! later? he’ll cheekily whisper, “now i get to unbutton them too, yeah?” dork (you love him)

🍎 opening your soda can

he hears that sad sigh from across the room when you’re staring at the tab. you can open it but you just got your nails done and you dread opening it!!! fret not — he’s already coming over, cracking it open with one thumb, and grinning like a smug golden retriever. “say thank you~” you roll your eyes, and he adds, “nope, not good enough. say ‘caleb, you’re my strong soda-opening hero.’”

🍎 tying your shoelaces

you stand there, foot out, princess-mode activated. he crouches, tying them slow and dramatic, teasing,“didn’t know i was dating royalty. should i curtsy next?” still ties them into cute little bows. always double knots them. always tugs once and says, “there. safe and tight. like me ‘round your pinky.” you can tie your shoelaces of course but caleb… being caleb. shruggie 🤷🏻‍♀️

🍎 helping with jewelry clasps

you hate doing them with acrylics, and he knows it. so he wordlessly takes the necklace from your hand and fastens it behind your neck. he tucks your hair gently aside, kisses the nape of your neck, and says, “there. pretty thing deserves to be adorned.”

🍎 peeling stickers or opening packaging

you just hold out the box with that pouty face. he snorts but takes it. “seriously? this again?” still does it. every. time. even carries a mini pocket knife now just for your convenience. “i’m like your… acrylic support boyfriend.” “yes, you are.” “wait, is that even hot?” “yes, caleb. extremely.”

🍎 typing your phone password when face id fails

he remembers it by heart. he’s memorized the code. doesn’t even ask. just picks up your phone and inputs it like it’s muscle memory. looks at you with a wink. “can’t help it. i’m a genius. and maybe a little obsessed.” little? naur!

🍎 picking off lashes/lens cases/doing gentle tasks

sometimes you just look at him with that “can you help meeee” look, and he sighs so dramatically. but you know he lives for it. he sits you down, cups your face gently, and helps remove the stubborn lash glue or pries open the contact case. all while muttering, “you’re lucky you’re cute. and helpless. and mine.”

🍎 wiping crumbs off your lips ’cause you can’t do it with nails

he sees it. smirks. wipes it off with his thumb and slowly licks it. “what?” he shrugs. “you got croissant on you. i’m just being resourceful.” you scoff at him, “tsk, caleb, i can wipe it off!” “i know honey- but you don’t need to!”

🍎 helping you text when you’re like “babe just type it for me”

he dictates your sass perfectly. “okay, you want the skull emoji or the 😭?” “both.” “got it. also i added ‘lol’ so it doesn’t sound like you’re trying to murder them.” “you get me.” “always do, pips!”

🍎 closing your bracelets or rings or doing your lip gloss

he’ll click your bracelet into place with precision, kiss your wrist after. if you’re struggling with lip gloss? he holds your chin and applies it for you. real serious. like he’s painting the mona lisa. “don’t move. gotta make my girl all kissable.” then smudges your lippie >:3

[luvwestwood]

"Off Limits" - Gojo Satoru

4,120 words.

warnings. n*sfw (18+), tongue piercing satoru, substance use, satoru is a plug, fuckboy! satoru, oral sex (he eats your pussy OUT) , both characters 🚬 🍃, resolved sexual tension, porn with a BIT of plot, mildly dubious consent, fucking at a party, he makes you squirt

notes. this was originally posted on my ao3, which is much more longer. i've shortened it down and fixed errors I made on ao3 originally (see if you could notice what it is 😭)for tumblr so its more of an easy read! <3

banner cred. @/yunonoai on twt/ig

You had about an hour and half to get ready, before you had to make your way to the Mappa Frat House down the street. Chloe's brother, Satoru, and his friends were inviting you two to some house party they held every year building up to Halloween.

To be real, it took you A LOT of convincing for Chloe to have you come to the party with her. You were never a party person. The thought of throwing up your guts after your system has consumed all types of shit. Or the annoying guys that slap your ass from behind in hopes of getting time with you in the bedrooms upstairs.

You were the total opposite of Chloe, and honestly, you envied her. She was a social butterfly who could blend in with anyone if she needed to, and she was evidently liked by the other students of any clique out there.

Oh, and by party animal, I mean it. Dresses in every colour, length and pattern. Heels of every inch and style. She just knew what to do. Practically, if you got her to go to your party, that's how you'd know if it was a good fucking party. 

Sitting in front of your desk finishing your makeup, which you were surprisingly good at, you giggle as you watch Chloe attached a lasso to her waist.

She had looked really cute in her Woody costume, and you were in fact, dressed as a sexy Buzz Lightyear. Earlier on at Ann Summers, Chloe was begging for you to match with her. You couldn’t refuse. It was a 2 for 1 sale anyway..

You smiled as she started to record a few tiktoks before hitting the road.

"I'm gonna have so much fun with this rope tonight."

"Mhm.." you let out a hum as you focus on doing your eyeliner. It was hard not to laugh at what she said, but you managed to suppress a giggle.

You lined some lashes with glue before placing them on your lash line. Your makeup was flawless tonight, and you were grateful because it had been quite some time since you've done a full glam. A bit of setting spray, and you spun your chair around to face Chloe.

It was as if she was a proud mother from what she was seeing in front of her. "Gorgeous! You look like a doll. A sexy one. Stand up really quickly, let's take a few pictures before heading out."

You stumbled a bit from the high heeled boots you were wearing, and you had to adjust the fabric your ass was practically eating as you stood up. You and Chloe took a few cute pictures before heading out to the Mappa House.

As you guys got there, it was already packed with all shit ton of people spread out on the front lawn doing all sorts of stuff.

The loud music from the inside could be heard from where you were standing. People were smoking, making out, doing keg stands.

Honestly, Chloe was right. You looked at a group of girls huddled and chatting near the door, and one caught your eye. The girl was wearing nothing but black tape on her boobs and underwear.

You nudge Chloe. “Chlo, what is she meant to be..?”

She giggled a bit before replying, “Who knows.”

You got a bit nervous as you walked on the path leading up to the main door. Spooky Halloween decorations were all over the House, and sometimes you were unable to tell what and what's not a decoration..

A man was standing just inside the door, it seemed like he was waiting for Chloe.

The guy dressed up as Johnny Cage from Mortal Kombat. You'd never seen him before, and he looked a bit intimidating.

You heard Chloe call out to the man. "Kento!" ..So that's his name. You stood behind Chloe like a loser as she gave him a hug. She pulled away and stayed pressed up against him. 

He smiled, "I'm glad you came. And who's this pretty girl?"

Kento turned to you as you looked at Chloe, she held you close to her too and gave you a proper introduction. "This is my best friend and room-mate, I convinced her to come along tonight!"

You returned the smile to him, he seemed like an okay guy. "Hi, nice to meet you."

Chloe winked at you, and you smirked, knowing what it meant. You gave her the look of approval as she took her lasso and tied it around Kento, pulling him to a room somewhere in the house.

You laughed as you made your way to the kitchen, after they disappeared up the stairs. How outrageous.

It was more quiet, which you liked. Making your way to the far end of the kitchen, you opened the fridge and scanned what's inside. You decided to take a small can of Pepsi. You sighed as you turned around, closing the fridge shut with your butt.

The presence of someone behind all along startled you, leaning against the island watching you this whole time. 

"Oh my fuck. Why are you creeping up on people like that?"

It was a person, assumingly a guy, his face covered with a ghostface mask. He was dressed in all black. A simple black fitted tee and jeans. He had a fake knife strapped to his belt.

The mysterious guy took off his mask, and placed it on the counter behind him. Of course, It was Satoru, Chloe's brother.

You let out a labored sigh as you leaned against the fridge, unable to move.

"I'm surprised you showed up tonight, I thought you never will."

You slowly slid to the right trying to escape him, turning your back to face Satoru as you popped the can open on the counter. "...It was a last minute decision."

"Seems like you got a costume too, huh?" Eyes sliding down your body as he finished his sentence.

Your eyes widen, realising your ass was on show to him this whole time. I'll kill this man if he thinks I'm up to no good.

You quickly turn back around to face him with the front of your body, and it didn't do you any justice as he was just met with your almost exposed chest. Party in the front, party in the back.

"I'm not complaining, you look good." he reassured you, trailing his eyes down your body from head to toe.

"..Thanks." Quickly, you took a huge sip from the can as you looked at him. This drink will only un-calm my nerves.

"I'm actually not into parties myself either." he spoke, and you almost choked on your drink.

"You? THE Satoru Gojo? I wasn't expecting that."

"No, I just like more intimate parties. Big ones like these annoy me. I don't know and don't care about 3/4 of the people who are here."

He continued, “You wanna come with? I’m going upstairs. There’s one last free room. And that’s the master room.”

Chloe was already busy, and there wasn’t really anyone else you could talk to around here. You had no choice.

”Hmm, okay. I’ll follow.”

He made sure to grab his mask from the counter, and the two of you left the kitchen.

As you made your way up the stairs, you could feel other girls eyes piercing through your back like daggers. Luckily, they couldn’t recognise you that easily.

By the time you set foot on the upstairs landing, you called out to him. "Satoru," you continued, "Who's room is this even?"

"Suguru’s, but it's cool. He won't give a fuck."

You followed behind him for a bit until you reached the master bedroom.

”Lock the door if you don’t want people coming into this room eating each other’s faces off.”

You blankly stared at him for a bit before turning back around to twist the lock. The music from downstairs turned faint and so did the chatter.

For a frat house, Suguru’s room was actually clean, you expected dirty plates and what-ever-the-fuck to litter the rest of the room, but the only exception was the clothes scattered on the ground. You watched and sat yourself down on the bed as he rummaged through the drawers for something.  Is he… reaching for a.. 

He picked up a lighter from deep inside the drawer, taking a joint out that was untouched from the same drawer, but kept away in a tiny zip bag. Phew.

”You smoke?”

You looked at him. “What do you think?”

”I’m guessing no.” You didn't know if you were to be butthurt by his quick and certain answer, but you don't see a reason why you should be anyways. His words went a bit quiet as he concentrated on sparking the joint between his fingers.

He took a hit from the joint as soon as it was burning perfectly. “Damn, that shits good.”

”Is Suguru not gonna be pissed if he finds out you took that..?” You questioned him.

”..Who do you think sold this stuff to him?” He flashed his famous smile as he saw the priceless look on your face.

You chewed on your lip and looked at the ground. “Oh, right.. yeah.”

You forgot that Satoru was basically the one who sold 🍃 on and off the campus.

He walked over to you, and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. “You don’t wanna try?”

Satoru took another hit before blowing the smoke out on his right side, making sure it doesn’t hit your face.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before, plus I’m scared.” You continued, “More scared I’ll start coughing like a bitch that I’d make a fool out of myself.”

Even though the only source of light came from the bedside lamp, you could still see that his eyes were glossy, and at this point a tiny bit bloodshot. “I could teach you, here.”

He held out the joint towards you, the smell was so strong it was probably sticking to your clothes by now.

”Quick, it’s burning away for no reason.”

You held the joint between your fingers like a cigarette, and looked at him for assurance.

”No, not like that.” He took your fingers and placed it properly between your pointer and thumb. “You look like a loser if you hold it like a cigarette.”

”Okay, what now.”

”Do it, take a hit.”

You stared at it before bringing it to your lips. Satoru spoke from beside you.

”Like, almost as if you’re sucking. Make sure it really gets to here.” He points to his chest.

You slightly squint your eyes as you take a mistakingly big hit.

”Now hold it for a bit, then exhale. It’s gonna hit better.”

The joint left your lips as you held it for like two seconds, and you let out a laboured exhale.

“Good girl, see? No coughing.”

You passed it back to him and Satoru takes another hit.

”..How’d I know if it hit me?”

He smirked, “You’ll just know. Don’t worry, I got you.”

All of a sudden, it felt like everything slowed down and your face was being grabbed to the ground.

You felt a bit relaxed knowing that Satoru was beside you, and you managed to take a hit without embarrassing yourself and going all snotty.

Unwillingly, you take the joint back from his hand to take another hit.

”What happened to Ms. I don’t smoke?”

You rolled your eyes before you passed it back to him again. 

Satoru smiled at your reaction before speaking again. “You wanna play a game?” 

Stomach churning, and not really liking where this is going, you answered. “..like what?”

”I ask you a couple questions and you answer, then you do the same to me.”

You snickered. “Isn’t that just called ‘getting to know each other’?”

”Yeah, I just wanted to make it sound more interesting.”

“Okay, why not.”

“How about, if you refuse to answer a question you take off one piece of clothing.”

You looked at him with a , ‘nice try’ face. ”Nuh uh. Not happening. Just ask the questions.”

”Aww, it was worth a shot.”

“Start asking questions or I’ll change my mind,” you changed your position on the bed to lie down on your stomach. It was more comfortable than stiffly sitting on the edge of the bed.

”You ever had a boyfriend?”

”Once. But I was like sixteen.”

Satoru just nods. “Your turn.”

“Did getting your tongue piercing hurt?”

He turned to you and smirked, “I’m surprised you noticed it. But nahh. Not really, it was just the healing process that hurted.”

Your face slightly grew warm, “…Yeah, I noticed it yesterday.”

He just smiles, and asks his second question. “You ever gotten your pussy ate before?”

You swallowed your spit as you propped yourself up slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

”You heard me.” He takes another hit of the joint even though it’s almost shrunken to the smallest it can be.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “…No.”

”…Good.” Satoru muttered, but you couldn’t really hear.

It was your turn to ask question again.

”..Why’d you want to get it pierced anyways?”

”Dunno. Why’d you think?”

Silence and tension grew between the two of you. You didn’t know if the naughty answer that crossed your mind was right or wrong. 

You didn’t know if it was the temperature of the room or the shit you smoked. You avoided answering his question.

”…Y-your turn to ask the question.”

His next question came out immediately.

“..Wanna see for yourself?”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. You didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what he meant.

”Is that a question you’re using up or are you just saying that… as a joke..”

Satoru stood up and walked over to the dresser, placing his costume props on top. In fact, he took everything out of his pockets and placed it on the dresser. 

You watched him glance at his phone for a bit, reading all the messages from his other homies before placing it down on the dresser and not replying.

A pool was forming between your legs, and you gently clamped them together while still lying down.

You’d be lying if you said you totally didn’t want to strip everything off and be naked by the time he turns back around. But you kept your composure.

Satoru turned back around, walking back to the bed. He sat on the same edge he was on a few minutes ago.

”And what if I do wanna find out,” You spoke, testing the waters.

His voice was laced with honesty. “I don’t want to push you out of your boundaries, we don’t have to do this. We can forget that this happened and my sister won’t ever know I was near you.”

A few thoughts were racing through your mind. I mean, Chloe was busy, you literally had weed in your system and you never thought you would’ve. There’s a first for everything, right?

You gently crawled over across the bed,  closer to him. “…No, I do want you to show me.” Your voice trailed off quietly, you grew shy as you drew back.

He turned his head behind to face you, and was able to see the sincerity in your eyes. Not gonna lie, he was very attractive. And I was literally begging to have his head between my legs.

You came closer to him again, and found yourself placing your lips on his first. The two of you melted into each other, with the lingering sexual tension finally resolved. 

The good girl act no longer existed, and time around you felt like it had stopped. This was something you needed, and you finally got it.

He was extremely gentle with his hands, and softly guided you to move back further onto the bed, placing your head down on the pillow.

You slightly squirmed as he placed his knee between your legs. He pulled away from your neck  before looking at you from above, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Just relax doll, I’ll take care of everything.” He left you with a peck on the lips as he slowly peppered a trail of kisses down your body, going lower and lower.

Your breath hitched as he cupped both of his hands around each of your thighs, kissing your inner thigh as he looked up at you in between.

His hands were cold, and caused your nipples to harden from his touch. But the heat of your body cause him to warm up in no time. He paused for a moment. “Can I?”  Satoru points to your tiny shorts before you responded with a nod. You slid them off and threw them somewhere in the room. You’ll find those later.

You watched as he used his teeth to teasingly slide your thong off your body, down your legs. You grew goosebumps from the feeling of the fabric slowly gliding down your skin.

It was painfully slow, but it made you want him even more. He knew what he was doing, and for your first time getting eaten out, it was like winning the lottery if Satoru was the one doing it.

He took them from his mouth, and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans before kissing past your inner thigh, Satoru placed a wet kiss on your throbbing clit before doing a few small licks with his tongue.

The mixture between the metal of his piercing and tongue made you shudder, causing you to whine and clamp your thighs around his head gently.

You felt Satoru's soft hands grip slightly your skin firmer, spreading your legs more apart and keeping them wide open for him. You were expecting his hands to be cold, but surprisingly your skin was met with his warm touch. He sucked on your clit gently, before lapping at it again hungrily.

Your two hands were occupied themselves, one grabbed onto his hair and the other clutched onto the sheets beside you. He only pushed his tongue deeper into you, basically gently fucking your hole with it.

Practically losing your mind from how good Satoru made you feel, you could tell he was enjoying every single noise and reaction you made. You felt the way he smiled against your dripping cunt as he cycled from sucking to licking.

”…Don’t.. stop..” you continued, in short breaths. “…Please”

He hummed gently with his eyes closed, his lips glossed with his spit and the juices from your pussy, and the sound of someone’s phone ringing echoed in your ears, releasing you from your trance.

You looked down at him annoyed as he hauled his head up from your legs. “Not my phone, mines silent on the dresser.”

You turned to the far end of the bed to your left and saw your phone screen was flashing. Reaching for it, you saw Chloe was the one calling.

Turning the phone screen for Satoru to see, he squinted his eyes a bit to read who the caller was. “You can answer,”

Before answering the call you laughed a bit, as you saw how ridiculous you made him look after grabbing his hair.

”Chloe?” You watched Satoru as he tried to listen in on the conversation.

He whispered, “Put it on speaker.”

You nodded, and Chloe could be heard on the other line speaking.

”Hey girl, just checking on you. You okay?” You heard her and Kento giggle as she tried to speak over the phone. But it was a bit louder around her, so that means they were with a bunch of other people now.

”Yeah, I’m…” Your eyes widen and flutter as felt as Satoru placed his head back down between your thighs, slowly and slightly lapping at your clit again with the cold metal orb on his tongue causing you to throb again.

You felt as he carelessly swirled his tongue around like there’s no tomorrow, but this time he let one of your legs go and thrusted a finger in and out of your hole, emitting a squelching noise as he continuously sucked, stimulating you like crazy.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a moan.

”Heyyy, you there?”

You were unable to answer as your own words became nothing but breathy as you try to form a sentence.

”…Y-Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m in the…b-bathroom.” You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your inner thigh for a second time as he heard your little lie over the phone.

You furrow your brows, making an “O” shape with your mouth.

Your hand holding the phone fell flat onto the bed, and by now you were no longer listening to whatever Chloe was saying on the other side of the line. Your mind was clouded, and the knot in your stomach tightened as you felt an orgasm approaching.

Lucky for you, Chloe ended the call less than ten seconds ago as it seems like she was busy with something else. Hopefully Kento.

He felt the way you quivered even more than last time, and held one of your legs over his left shoulder as he thrusted another finger in, still lapping and sucking at your dripping cunt as your breathing quickened, becoming irregular.

”Cum all over my face,” He murmured against your warm lips, and that did it for you. You liked the way he was gentle with his hands, slowly using one to rub your thigh on his left shoulder. He was deep in there, and he ate your pussy like it was a five course meal.

You watched as him as you rode out your orgasm, your head falling back against the pillow. Your mind was all over the place as you endlessly squirted all over his fingers that curled inside of you to aid your high, and felt as you slightly pushed your body more towards him.

“S-shit..” Was all you could say. You saw the way the piercing was exposed for a split second as he stuck his tongue out, the juices from your release dripping all over his mouth.

As he gently pulled away from between your legs, a ‘pop’ noise was heard after he gave your clit one last suck. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his face was soaking wet.  Luckily it didn’t go past his above nose. Or he’d be partially blind for the rest of the night.

The neck of his shirt managed to be slightly soaked with splatters from your juices. But he didn’t care.

“..You got a little something on your face..” You say, pointing to your mouth with your finger to tell him where it was.

He smiled, and you watched as he used his tongue to wipe the corners of his mouth, but took a random towel hanging off the door to wipe the rest off his cheek.

“Damn, Suguru’s gonna be pissed when he sees how soaked his sheets are.” Satoru laughed as he looked at you still with your legs spread out, trying to recover.

No can do, the towel that was previously used by Satoru was passed to you after.

The wet circle underneath you had expanded from soaking into the sheets for too long. Satoru grabs your shorts that landed just in front of the door and tossed them back to you, but as he walked away a knock could be heard.

It was Suguru, of course it was. “Yo, whoever’s in there is cheeky enough to lock my own damn door!”

You quickly slid on your shorts as you turned to the body mirror beside you, combing your hair with your fingers.

Honestly, you were a bit upset that your fun was cut short. But you couldn’t stay for too long or eventually someone would break the door down.

“Man shut the hell up, it’s me, Satoru. I’m in here.” He responded. You watched him in the mirror as he slowly came up behind you, turning you around and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. Making sure you knew he didn’t just want to leave you hanging like that. That you weren’t just a toy to him.

The two of you walked to the door, twisting the lock to it. “Here, you go out first. I’m right behind you.”

You nod as you left the room, and shyly smiled at Suguru on your way out who was dumbfounded, followed by Satoru behind you.

And of course, Suguru couldn’t help but notice your pink thong that was still hanging off Satoru’s back pocket.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[writingoddess1125]

Crocodile Beauty and Beast Effect

<<< Masterlist

Welp this one won by a damn landslide! Hope you enjoy!

Crocodile x FemReader

⚠️ WARNINGS: ⚠️ Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Murder (This is Crocodile afterall..), Sexual Harrassment (Not from Crocodile), Sexual Inuendo (From Crocodile-)

• Crocodile is not know to me a man of affection or kindness. Seen as a Cruel man who murders on a whim and will laugh in the face of any he strikes down. Heartless to the core..

• However he does have a heart-

• You. His Dessert Rose-

• His Wife

• The one he hides from the world as his most precious of treasures. Something worth more then any diamond or even the One Peice itself.

• However while most would expect some locked up princess or women tied to some bedpost crying to be free-

• But I think his spouse wouldn't be some damsel, It would get on his nerves too damn much and hed probably lash out- Or someone who yells back at him, that would just end up with someone dead.

• You however are perfect-

• A quiet women, dressed in comfortable but luxury clothes often found reading or writing- Listening to music and humming along to yourself.

• No extreme dresses, having full authority of the home(s) you occupied and as much freedom as desired within reason-. Often venturing to the market or making trades with locals to get something that caught your eye.

• Truthfully the only thing that would really indicate you were of a super high bracket was the fat ring on your finger that you were sure cost more then a few islands put together.

• Sure you found it a bit- Gaudy (It was tacky as hell) but you knew your husband was proud of it so you wore it with pride.

• You're a author by trade, You also repair rare books and a avid collector of antique literature.

• A fairly lucrative trade, which earned well before you got married to Sir Crocodile. However due to his well.. impressive wealth your was rendered now a nice well paying hobby-

• Still you did it often advertising when you were in town, and you did your trade incredibly well. Even if Crocodile insisted you didn't have to work and he would take care of your needs-

•Which was mainly him wanting you to stay by his side and spoil you rotten.

• "You do not have to work- You are more then welcome to lounge and do nothing" Crocodile said calmly as he watched you gently repair the endpaper of a antique book someone had commissioned.

"No, I enjoy this" You say simply, dipping your brush in more glue. Not even looking up to Crocodile.

Then making him growl in annoyance.

"What if I demand you to quit- You wouldnt be able to stop me if I did My Flower" He chimes, giving a dark almost sinister grin down at you as he took a huff of his cigar.

You calmly set your brush down, Looking up to him with a sharp gaze and narrowed eyes.

"Try."

That ended that conversation fairly fast as he allowed you to do as you pleased.. if not grumbling about it under his breath.

• You didn't take shit from anyone let alone your husband.

• However you don't need to scream or yell, A sharp look and a tight frown are all is needed to make him stop- at least enough to listen to a opposing opinion

• Besides if you do raise your voice it's for a damn good reason-

And for Crocodile he'd make sure you only need to raise your voice saying his name in the bedroom

• The man however adores you- head over heels, He loves you in every which way imaginable.

• Just as Much as you love him- He may be gruff and crass but you love every bit of him, No part of either you is unloved.

• Especially on Crocodile side- in a very perverted sense.. He is fast to strike if he sees you bend over for paper, or fast to lift your skirt if it's short enough- Paired with using his sand to his advantages

• Sand does like to find itself in crevices- Much to your annoyance.

• Despite this he does deeply respects you- Your thoughts, Your feelings- He takes what you say into consideration.. Even if he has to swallow his pride.

Sir Crocodile paced in his office, Face twisted up in that crooked smile of his as he layed out his next plan of attack on the Marines always telling you what his next moves would be in full detail as he knew youd provide the best feedback.

"It is perfect, I know it is my Flower, What are your thoughts?"

He said proudly, looking to you seated on his desk right were he had placed you. Your eyes however down cast to some paper next to you as you wrote something down.

You silently hold out what you had been writing, Crocodile raising a brow as he snatches them and looks them over-

There you had written a more polished version of his plan, making his face twist up in confusion as he read over it.

"You changed the timing, and location of the attack. Why?"

"The area you're planning is prone to storms that time of year so it makes sense the Marines will use a different route to avoid it- Paired with when they head out. It allows you to also use that channel to the left which flows fast, Letting you have control of the situation"

He looked to you now thinking it over.

"How would you know something like that?-"

"We were talking about the weather over there last week since I had to wait to ship one of the commissioned books I was telling you about-"

You say plainly, smiling softly as you see your husband face twist in a fake frown at you.

"I hate it when you do that-"

You can't help bit giggle, watching as he leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of your head in a silent thanks.

• It was often you two would share moments like this- You having him read over your manuscripts and you reading over his plans.

• While he was prideful and stubborn- You were the thing to help curve that and force him to listen to reason.

• Somwhat-

• You know deep down he is possessive and obsessive- He likes to keep what is his, and sees you as such. While you are free to do as you please, you know in the back of your head if he truly wanted you'd be locked away forever-

• Always seconds away from being snagged in his jaws and never see the light of day again.

• If it wasn't for your nature and you suspect his respect he has for you- You doubt you'd be in the position you are in to have the level of control or freedom you possess.

• Crocodile may act as the Head. However you are the neck that turns it- Or in your case the mild winds that can change the direction of a Raging storm.

• While Crocodile does not like to bring you to the eyes of others- But he does take you with him.

• He didn't like the idea of keeping you too far away having a desire to keep an eye on important things-

• If he is on a mission he will stash you on a island far enough from any real damage but at least a short sail away.

• It always does tickle your funny bone watching how he does this- Sort of reminds you of a paranoid squirrel.

• Looking in different spots to hide resources before digging it back up to hide in a different spot.

• But you never minded, Honestly preferring to stay more to the side lines- hidden away in his hiding spots to stay safe.

• You'd heard second hand how, unkind the pirating world could be so knew that if you were exposed it wouldn't be a very good experience.

• However fate seemed to say nope to your plans to stay to the side.

• It took only one incident to bring you to the forefront unfortunately..

You had been brought to the Cross Guild, seemingly Crocodile having deemed it important enough and somewhat safe to bring you here- You assumed it was due to the time he needed to be here.

Already silently choosing to stay in more private quarters- There was a lot of people, loud ones at that.. Having heard the crowd and feeling like the large bed and nice room was good enough..

Till you got hungry-

And by the noise with even with how far your room was from the main building you could hear how rowdy it was. Assuming anyone working in the kitchens wouldn't be able to assist for some time.

Truthfully from the noise alone you hoped those poor kitchen workers got paid well.

But no matter- You had no problem getting something yourself anyway.

It was a rather long walk to the main Guild, having easily been able to follow the flow of the hallways to where the main kitchens would be.

Having only briefly paused by a large archway when you heard that signature cackle-

'HE HEH HE'

Taking a peak through it was incredibly packed it seemed, You could see your husband not far off. A smile playing softly on your lips as you saw him there cackling and drinking, tormenting a blue haired clown it seemed for his own amusement, shaking your head softly at his antics- Stepping back as you went to continue your task at hand till you bumped into something.

Looking up as a rather dumpy looking pirate, a drunk one at that stared down at you.

"Woah! You're a pretty one- I thought they only had ugly whores here"

The smell of liquor on his breath made your nose wrinkle, finding him rather disgusting even in talking paired with his appearance...

"Im not an escort... I'm heading elsewhere- Excuse me" You say, Attempting to walk past him but he moved fast blocking your path fast.

"Hold On! I wasnt done- how much?" He asked, now a bit more aggressively.

"Im not a escort.. Let me through-" You say sharply. A peg of worry now going through you as he seemed to he blocking your main points kmof exit- Just large enough you could tell if you tried to move he would grab you fast.

"Still, You gotta have some sort of price, I'll make it worth your while" He sneered before grabbing your wrist hard pulling it up above your head forcing you closer to him- Your chest now touching his body to your disgust.

"HEY! Let Go of Me!" You scream out, trying to pull your wrist from him-

Feeling his free hand drift far too close to your hip-

Before you felt what could only feel like bloodlust fill the air almost choking you out.

There all hell broke lose, a slam of sand hitting the man as his hand felt like it almost dissolved from around your wrist-

Your eyes closed tightly as a yelp left you from the force as you heard the grinding of bone, wet flesh not far from you and noises you'd never want to hear ever again from a living creature- Squinting your eyes only slightly to see what was visible of your husband.

His body was nothing short of a storm with only specks of his body visible, other innocent people also getting pelted by the storm now in the building.

He was enraged- His face was twisted up as he had even dropped the cigar that usually hung from his lips, his face a twisted up growl.

"Stop" You say through the storm before you, hand reaching out gripping on the gold hook you could make out from the swirls of sand.

What could be seen of Crocodile head snapping down to look at you as you stood to his side your hand raised to block the sand blowing on your face and body. The winds picking at your clothes as you struggled to even stand.

However just like that the sand dropped- Going from a Raging sand storm to almost soft sands on a beach around you- his large form once again visible.

"... (Y/N).. You alright my Flower?"

He said rather softly, looking to you as the sand slowly started to return to him and leaving your clothes and hair- While he placed a large hand on your shoulder as his eyes darted around you, seemingly checking you over to make sure you weren't harmed by the drunk pirate.. or himself.

"Yes.. Was just a bit startled is all"

You admit, Coming down yourself from it all having not felt the force of Crocodile so angry in a incredibly long time-

You turn a bit to look behind you where you had heard what used to be a man however Crocodile hand moved fast from your shoulder to touch your cheek to stop from turning. His eyes saying it all..

This was not something for your eyes to see.

"What brought you down here Love?"

"I was just coming to grab dinner and-"

"Next time Come straight to me- I'll handle it all, Now I thought you were working on that latest book of yours?"

He cuts you off quick started to guide you back to the room with a hand on your lower back making his coat cover you from prying eyes- You can see he is still upset and know it's for the best to put him to ease speaking about your writing so far to him and staying close to him.

Crocodile listened closely, waving to servents to clean up his mess and bring the two of you dinner- before he gave a single glance back at the whole Guild as if silently threatening them all continuing on his way with you to your shared Quarters.

All of the guild now dead silent and watching- Even Buggy and Mihawk both sharing a look of- well concern...

Having never thought they would see the day someone stopped the very very short tempered Warlord with a single word.

It was frightening-

Also seeing that Sir Crocodile was angry enough he hadn't even bothered to dehydrate the poor man like how he normally did-

No

He had shredded him and leaving a bloody mess on the floor. A gorey and gruesome fate most would never think he was capable of-

It was there they all thought the exact same thing. Each member now terrified to get too drunk as they all looked at the bloody mess.

There was a person who was both held captive by the beast as well as controlled it.

And she wore a big gaudy ring-

[fae-renjun]

🗯✮₊˚⊹ THE ANATOMY OF A ROMANCE — l.jn [ TEASER ]

# pairing.ᐟ lee jeno x fem!reader — [1.1k], college!au, academic rivals to friends to lovers, teaser for the first instalment of how to fall in love (for dummies)

# synopsis.ᐟ  when yn finally got tickets for comic con this year, the last thing she expected was to accidentally coordinate outfits with lee jeno: the boy she had been tied with for the top of every class they had taken together since first year. or in which jeno begins to realise the girl he could never beat in academics has more in common with him than he thought. warnings.ᐟ just swearing for the teaser

# tia speaks.ᐟ est. final wc: 4.5k & est. publish date: 20/03 (the writing in this teaser might be a bit chopped, this is not the final edit)

i. you can’t turn the radio down (& you can’t think of anyone else)

Jeno’s first mistake had been trusting his friends with his hair. 

Looking up nervously as Mark handed him the mirror, Jeno was already braced for disaster after observing the reactions of Jisung (visibly distressed in the corner while biting back a smile) and Chenle (not holding back at all, literally rolling on the floor laughing). 

“This is not fucking green.” “It’s bluish-green?” said Mark hesitantly in response. “It’s mint, Mark,” said Renjun from his spot on the couch. “It could still work,” said Jisung, more as a question than a statement. “Yeah,” Jaemin answered, barely holding back a laugh, “Beast Boy can be minty.”

From the corner of his eye Jeno saw Haechan slowly pull his phone out of his pocket, which was then swiftly returned to its place with Jeno’s warning of putting him in a chokehold.

“I cannot go to comic-con like this.” “Sure you can,” Chenle responded between laughs. “Listen man,” said Renjun, “even if you wanted to fix it, there’s not enough time to do that. Just put on the outfit.” Jeno begrudgingly dragged his feet across the floor to his room, as the conversation continued muffled outside.

Mark shouted, “Yo but why do I actually look so good as spiderman?!” “My Iron Man is better,” retorted Chenle “Why’d you guys assign me the Hulk anyway?” asked Jaemin, as Jeno walked out of his room. Jisung said “Your muscles,” at the same time as Haechan who instead responded with, “So that you and Jeno can have matching green couple outfits.” Renjun, busy adjusting the bow for his Green Arrow costume, just let out a snort-laugh as Jaemin considered both responses for a second before nodding, “Valid.”

Soon Jeno and Renjun were ushering the 5 others out of the house and into the cars to make sure they wouldn’t be late for The Batman 2’s trailer screening.

Y/N opened up the camera app and held her phone close to her face as she made sure the small red plastic crystal she’d bought from the craft store and stuck onto her forehead with lash glue wasn’t crooked. Aeri stood adjacent, combing through her freshly-dyed pink hair with her fingers. 

As a notification popped up on her screen Y/N let out a groan, “Dr. Kwon just assigned us 30 pages of reading for my 8am on Monday!”

“Those Monday morning lecturers love being diabolical, I’m telling you,” said Aeri with a sigh.

In the process of throwing her head back in frustration, Y/N noticed a mint-coloured blob exiting a car out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to get a better look she said to Aeri, “He might have been going for Beast Boy but the poor guy’s hair did not-” Y/N fell silent on seeing the face behind the mint hair. Then she started laughing.

No, said Jeno to himself, this could not be a laugh he recognised, this could not be-

“Holy fucking shit.” “Please,” said Jeno as he made eye contact with the girl, “spare me.” “Absolutely not. That is not green.” “Blame Mark.”

“No, I will actually be thanking Mark. This is incredibly diabolical work,” responded Y/N as she held her phone back up to take a photo. “Oh my god, delete that,” said Jeno with a look of horror. Y/N shook her head, “Don't worry, I won’t post it. Just need it to laugh at.” she said as Jeno’s friends joined in on laughing at the boy’s embarrassment. “I did not consent to that photo Y/N, but I guess you just like looking at my face that much.” “Yeah, I like laughing at it.” “Whatever you say. Nice to know you’re obsessed with my face. What a shame it’s not reciprocated,” said the boy with an obviously mocking look of sympathy.

Before she could retort, Haechan cut through the banter, “Sorry to point out the obvious but has no one else noticed the costumes? You’re Beast Boy, and she’s Raven. They’re lovers in all the comics and shit, no?” Jeno’s mouth fell agape as Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. Both of you rushed to defend yourselves, “Lovers is a stretch-” “ Ok but she’s been with other people in the comics, even Starfire, I mean really Aeri is-” The duo's voices were drowned out by their friends falling into a fit of giggles once again.

Y/N lightly slapped Aeri’s arm to get her attention, dragging her inside the convention center and away from the boys, as the pink-haired-girl continued holding in her giggles.

After the two girls had browsed some of the merchandise at the convention, they finally got to The Batman 2’s panel. Y/N just happened to be so lucky that the only free seats (other than those at the opposite end of the hall) were right next to a group of 7 boys, one of whom’s hair stood out like a sore thumb. It was now her turn to groan as Aeri dragged her right into those very unfortunate seats. 

With a whole 15 minutes left until the panel started all Y/N could do to occupy herself was talking to Aeri and staring at the ground and tapping her feet in order to ignore the presence of a certain Lee next to her. As the girls’ conversation reached a lull, Jeno on her other side cleared his throat before asking, “So…do you like comics?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah…a lot.”

“Well then this is great!” exclaimed Jaemin, “Nono here is the resident comic book nerd in our friend group.”

Y/N’s face broke into a teasing smile, “Nono?”

Jeno closed his eyes in frustration then turned to Jaemin and gave him his best ‘threatening’ glare (but all his friend did was smile back).

“Favourite characters?” asked Y/N, once he had turned back around.

“Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Miles Morales, Cassandra Cain, John Constantine,” he gestured at his own outfit, “and Beast Boy. Yours?”

“Jason Todd, Kamala Khan, Gwenpool, Zatanna, Rogue, Kori and Raven.” Y/N responded, pointing to her own outfit as she finished.

There was a beat of silence, “Good list.”

“Yours too.”

The two nodded, each clearly having gained some additional level of respect for the other as the lights in the hall dimmed and the event began.

While pulling her hair out of the back of the brown jacket she had put on for the second day of ComicCon, a realization dawned on Y/N, causing her to practically fly across her room to her phone.

Y/N: just so that we don’t accidentally match again Y/N: because i’m sure neither of us wants that Y/N: what are you dressed as today?

Jeno (Anatomy 101): miles morales

Y/N: ok, cool. Y/N: clear.

Jeno (Anatomy 101): you?

Y/N: rogue

Jeno (Anatomy 101): ok Jeno (Anatomy 101): can you delete the picture now

Y/N: nope!

Seen at 11:57am

taglist (strikethrough = can’t tag): @bambisnc @nicholasluvbot @yewshi @lotties-readings @wachimingox @moryymor @andyyjw @ayukas @mystverse @meemememeem @hibernatinghamster @i-lovegood @keemburley @huffnpufffckk @zhapire @yutal0ver @miamoreeee @413ktz @imlonelydontsendhelp @vivisoni @jenocity23 @yangsliuist @dee-zennie @haoss @kstrucknet @k-films

[lis-likes-fics]

Everything in the World

Pairings: Spencer Reid x wife!Reader Word Count: 1.9k words Warnings: Literally none, not even a swear word, all fluff... A/N: Why can't I have this?! Please I am begging on my knees, all I want is like... ONE KISS. Please ONE KISS PLEA-! Thanks to my lovely beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

It's really late. It takes a lot of care to close the door silently behind him as he steps into the threshold of his home.

He releases the quiet breath when he hears the click of the lock, turning on his heel and setting his go bag by the door. The quiet hum of the TV is all he can hear through the apartment as he begins to step further inside. It's nearly one in the morning—you should have been in bed hours ago.

Spencer comes up to the living room, peering inside curiously to see My Little Pony playing brightly across the screen as multiple colorful ponies trot through a city bustling with activity.

“Daddy!*

The voice that calls him is ecstatic but still so, so soft in the night. His smile immediately stretches over his face, his mind full of images of the past few days melting away in favor of holding his arms out and open to receive his little girl.

“Hey!” he beams, sweeping her into his arms as he keeps his voice down. He holds her close to him, rubbing her back and sighing. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Spencer kneels down, setting his baby—though she would argue she wasn't a baby—on her feet with a smile. He sits back, his legs out in front of her for her to stand. She eagerly moves her dark brown curls away from her face, smiling so big that it looks like she's all teeth.

“Miss you,” she admits, whispering poorly.

His heart warms at the words. “I missed you too, Rora,” he returns, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead and adoring her giggle.

He glances over at the couch where you're fast asleep, one arm draped over the side in a position he can only assume is highly uncomfortable. You're both in your pajamas already, completely through your nightly routines with the obvious exception of the part where you go to bed.

Spencer's hand holds her side, his thumb brushing gentle circles over her. “Did you stay up for me?”

Aurora's nod is enthusiastic with an unmistakable pride shining in her eyes. She's got these big cheeks that Spencer loves to kiss. “Yes,” she says. Then she looks over at you, like you're silly. “Mommy went sleep.”

“I see,” he mumbles. He watches the way you pull Rora’s plush elephant into your chest under one heavy arm like you're cradling her. He nearly melts at the sight.

He scrunches his nose and leans in like he's telling a secret. “She was super sleepy, huh?”

Rora’s happy to join in, her voice lowering to another loud whisper. “Yeah.”

“You wanna help me put her to bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, c'mon.” He hosts himself up onto his knees and takes her hand, waddling over to your spot on the couch.

He smiles fondly as he peers at you, your soft face and your softer breaths. He thinks you're one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. You and your baby girl.

“Isn't she so pretty?” he whispers, his voice so, so soft to avoid waking you.

Aurora tries to match his tone. “Yes. Like the boralis!”

He nods quickly. “Yes, exactly like the boralis.” She still hasn't quite figured out how to say “borealis”, but he doesn't have the heart to correct her right now. It's what the two of you named her after. He kisses her forehead again. “C'mon.”

Spencer stands, putting all his care into sliding his hands underneath your body. A tiny sound mumbles out of you, but you just lean into him as he pulls you closer and closer. Once he's got you in his arms, held like a bride with your face resting against his chest and the plush in your arms, he can't help but to take a moment to look at your face again. He loves how pretty you are.

Your lashes flutter as you begin to awaken, struggling to open like they're stuck together with glue. “Spence,” you say before you've even looked at him.

He smiles fondly, his words so quiet that not even Aurora can understand him. “Hey, baby.” He glances at his daughter, motioning with his head for her to follow him as they walk through their home to get to the bedroom.

“You're home,” you mutter sweetly.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Did she wear you out?”

It takes a moment for you to reply, your mumbles spoken into his suit. “She has a lot of energy.” There's a lazy moan, and then, “You don't have to carry me.”

He refuses to not carry you. Carrying you is one of his favorite things to do. “Go back to sleep. We got you. Right, Rora?”

She's struggling to reach the door as she responds through strained effort. “Mm-huh.” When it's open, she fist pumps herself and rushes inside to climb onto the bed. It takes a lot of effort for her to get there. Spencer's already waiting by the bed by the time she manages to crawl up, and he enjoys watching her pull the covers back for you.

You silently let them go through the process of tucking you in—Spencer lowering you into the bed, Aurora bringing the covers up to tuck under your chin, Spencer smoothing the blankets out, Aurora lifting your head less than elegantly to push an extra pillow underneath you.

Spencer rests a warm hand on your cheek, brushing his fingertips across your forehead and studying every tiny little feature of your face like he's analyzing old Russian texts. He presses his lips so sweetly to your forehead, and you melt into the pillows.

“I'm gonna put her to bed, okay?” he murmurs. You nod and hum. “Give mommy a kiss.”

Aurora pulls her hair back from her face, bending down to place a sort of sloppy kiss to your cheek. He doesn't miss the way your lips tug. “Thanks, honey.”

Her voice is so small and sweet. “Night, Mommy.”

You take a while to breathe in, reaching a tired hand from under the covers to reach blindly for her. Once your hand has found her knee, you stroke it gently and nod. “Night, Rora. Love you, baby.”

“Love to you,” she says.

Spencer kisses your forehead again while Aurora picks up your arm and shoves it back under the covers. She wants to see nothing but your head uncovered.

He rounds the bed and scoops his girl off of it, making a rocket sound as he does. She lands on his side and waves goodbye to you as he carries her from the room. She's taken her elephant plush with her. Her tiny hand holds onto him absentmindedly, holding his shirt in a tight grip that lets him know just how much she loves him, how much she depends on him. He rubs her leg.

When the door is closed, he smiles. “What story do you want tonight?”

“Mommy already read a story. Lord of Rings.”

He lowers his voice scandalously. “Do you want another one?”

Her face lights up like a million Christmas lights. And it's contagious. He looks like he's just received the best present of all. All he wants is to make her smile like that forever.

“I can have two?” she gasps.

Spencer thinks briefly that he would read to her every book in the world if it would make her this happy.

He opens her bedroom door, flicking on her golden lamp as he goes. “Yeah, sweetheart, you can have two.” He sets her in her bed, pulls the covers up as she helps. “But you gotta keep it a secret, okay?” He says this fully aware of the fact that she's going to tell you anyway. She tells you everything.

“‘Kay!”

He pulls up the tiny chair in her room. “Which one?”

“Next part, please!” she asks excitedly, pointing to The Lord of the Rings already sitting on the table beside her bed.

He picks up the thick book, pulling it in his lap and flipping to the marked page. “Ready?”

She lays back, getting as cozy as she can. She holds her plush to her chest just as closely as you had a moment ago. He can't help but adore how much she looks like you. It doesn't matter how many times people say she looks like her father, he will always see you in his girl.

“Ready.”

He snaps out of his thoughts, busying himself with the words. He wills himself to speak a little slower, entertaining her with voices and movements and all the things she loves in storytelling. She stops him a million times to ask a million questions, and he's content to give her a million answers and more.

And when she's finally fallen asleep, finally tired out by the long day and night she's had, he puts the book back with a smile. Spencer kneels by her bed, pressing a loving kiss to his daughter's head as he runs his fingers through her hair. He whispers “I love you,” so silently into her hairline, turning off her light to allow her nightlight to take over.

He retreats back to his room, closing the door and beginning to shed his layers. And once he's wrapped in some sweatpants, he finds himself kneeling by the bed once more.

You must have been really tired.

You sleep effortlessly, face pressed into the pillow, the extra one Rora had given you discarded to the other side of the bed. He can't himself. He reaches out and touches your face, tracing the softness of your cheeks and of your lips and of the tip of your nose.

Your face twitches where he tickles you. You don't have to open your eyes to know it's him. You never do. “She sleep?”

“Yeah.” He sighs gently, “Sorry I took so long.”

You shake your head. “Don't say sorry.”

He smiles, kissing your forehead for the fifteen hundredth time and standing to his feet. He goes around the bed and climbs in next to you, pulling the covers up to make sure you're still warm.

You practically glue yourself to him, tucking yourself away in the warmth of his chest and breathing in his scent as it swirls around your head and makes you melt inside. Spencer adores the feeling of your fingertips at his side, stroking up and down and up and down tickling as they do.

“Missed you,” you whisper. He's immediately reminded of Aurora when she greeted him earlier.

He wraps his arms around you and brings you impossibly closer, his loving hands caressing you. “I know. I missed you, too, love.” He says it all in one breath, so happy to be home and in your arms. Your forehead gets three more kisses. “Go back to sleep. I love you.”

He says it so quickly, but there's nothing casual about it. There's never been anything casual about the way he loves you. He loves you so fully and so deeply and so intensely. It takes his whole soul to look at you, and even more of it to bring himself to touch something as precious as you. Sometimes he feels like he doesn't deserve it. But right now, in this moment, he can't be bothered to think that. Right now, he's just so happy that you're his and he's yours. He loves you.

Even through your exhaustion, he feels his love returned. Your sticky words fuse with the fabric of his heart, and he's never been happier to be loved. “Love you, too.”

You earn another long kiss to the line where your forehead meets your hair. Tucking you in to him, he lets himself fall asleep next to you, wrapped in your arms.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 Tag yourself here...

[juuuulez]

old man richie who doesn’t quite get all the things his young girlfriend does.

like diy eyelash clusters? he walks into the bathroom one day and you’re holding an eyelid open, little black lashes pinched between tweezers as you meticulously place them on your lash line. the sight makes him grimace, keeping his distance and standing near the wall.

“the fuck you doin’?” richie asks, “isn’t a professional ‘sposed to do that?”

you glance at him through the mirror while picking up another cluster. “well, yeah. but this is cheaper and quicker, tons of women do it themselves now.”

richie makes a noise of acknowledgment, coming closer to peer at the supplies you’ve got laid out across the counter. his gaze flickers back up to you, watching the glue get applied to the bulb, before you’re holding your eye open again.

“does it hurt?” he asks.

you try not to grin, not wanting to mess this up. “why would it hurt?”

“i don’t fuckin’ know, that’s why i asked.” richie would grouse, already backing off because seeing your eyes like that is kinda creepy.

he wouldn’t understand stanley cups either.

like, they’re so expensive! and it’s a cup, sweetheart, we’ve got plenty in the house.

richie shows his adamant disapproval when one shows up a week later, going on about how a plastic drink bottle would do the same job, and you’d still have all your money. “straight up robbery,” is what he calls it.

but after sex? take your eyes off him and he’s drinking out of your goddamn stanley. you’ll scold him and whine, because “richie! you’re drinking all my freaking water!” but he adamantly insists that your water tastes better than the water on his bedside.

which, it does, of course, in all it’s crisp cold glory.

[rafeyssugar]

SWEET LIKE TROUBLE

bf!rafe cameron x bimbo reader

you were so annoying. like really. you were clingy and soft and always cold. you couldn’t open water bottles. you refused to learn how to put air in your tires. you cried when your lashes didn’t go on right. you had an entire separate bag just for your lip glosses and perfumes. and you made rafe stop walking every time you saw a flower on the ground that was “too cute to leave behind.”

you were the kind of girl that other girls got exhausted by. but rafe? rafe was in love.

like stupidly. sickly. head-over-heels obsessed.

not that he’d say all that. he’d just tell you to stop wearing skirts that short in public. and maybe he’d keep your strawberry perfume in his glove box. and maybe he’d never tell you no. ever. no matter how bratty you were being. he’d just groan and say “fuckin’ hell, babe…” like you were a burden. but he was already pulling out his wallet, already giving you his hoodie, already texting back where are you the second you left his sight.

“rafe,” you said, curling your legs into his lap as you laid back on the couch, your voice high and sweet and already getting him in a mood.

he didn’t look up from his phone. “hm?”

“what’s my middle name?”

his eyes flicked to you. “what?”

you pouted. “you forgot?”

he narrowed his eyes. “…no?”

you squinted. “then what is it.”

he paused. “…baby.”

you blinked. “wrong.”

“it is when you’re mine,” he smirked.

you groaned, throwing a throw pillow at him. “you’re so annoying!”

rafe caught it mid-air, laughing under his breath. “no, you’re annoying. you make me take selfies and look at your nail inspo board like i know the difference between baby pink and ballerina pink.”

you gasped. “they’re completely different!”

“sure, babe.”

you sat up on your knees, arms crossed, fake-pouting now. “you don’t take anything seriously.”

rafe put his phone down. his smile softened. “i take you seriously.”

you froze. then blinked at him.

“you do?”

“duh.” he reached over, tugging you into his lap like it was second nature. “you think i’d let just anyone cry in my car over lash glue and still kiss her forehead after?”

you giggled. “okay but that was literally a crisis.”

“you called me at 2am.”

“my lashes were lifting!”

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. not when you were straddling him, arms around his neck, smelling like something fruity and way too expensive. not when you kissed the corner of his jaw and whispered “love you, baby” like it was the easiest thing in the world.

he didn’t say it back. not with words.

just held you a little tighter. tilted your face toward his with both hands and kissed you slow. long. soft. like you were made of glass and pink clouds and sugar.

you hummed against his lips. then pulled back with a grin. “you’re blushing.”

“shut up.”

“you are,” you giggled, cupping his cheeks. “you get all red when i say your name. rafe.”

“stop.”

“rafe rafe rafe—”

he kissed you again just to shut you up.

and maybe because he missed the taste of your lip gloss already.

later, you were laying in his bed wearing one of his old t-shirts that hung off your body like a dress. your legs were cold, so rafe threw a blanket over you. you made him paint your nails (badly). he made you watch heat for the fourth time. you fell asleep on his chest halfway through. he pretended to hate it. but he didn’t move a muscle for hours.

you whispered something half-asleep into his shirt.

“what’d you say?” rafe murmured.

you blinked slowly, nose nuzzled into him. “said you’re my favorite.”

his heart thumped. he swallowed. “oh.”

“i’d pick you. every time.”

he blinked up at the ceiling.

“…even over strawberry acai?”

you paused. “mmm… close call.”

he laughed. “fuck you.”

you smiled against him. “love you too.”

he didn’t say it back. again.

but his hand stayed in your hair. his lips pressed against your forehead. and when you fell asleep for real, he whispered it into your skin like a prayer.

love you. love you. love you.

you never even noticed he said it. but he didn’t care.

he’d say it a thousand times if he had to.

[writer-freak]

Haikyuu guys with cosplayer reader

Characters: Kuroo, Kenma, Hinata, Oikawa, Atsumu and Suna Warnings: Gn reader, fluff, reader putting on makeup

A/n: As a cosplayer who is currently con crunching I only found it correct to write something like this, it's just something short and sweet I hope to really get back to writing after my con <3

Kuroo Tetsurou He feels a lot of pride for you but also loves teasing you. He watches you paint on eyeliner or lace up a costume and thinks you’re ridiculous, beautiful, otherworldly.

He’ll offer to help cut fabric just so he has an excuse to sit next to you, arms brushing, pretending not to stare. And when you show him photos from a con, just shining with other people surrounding you, he zooms in, looking at your smile, how confident you look.

He doesn’t mind that other people are staring when you are on your way to a photo shoot or convention, let them. He likes that you stand out. That you’re bold. That you can be anyone and still be his. But the best part, for him, is seeing you take off the wig, the lashes, the heels, and crawl into bed with him, still so incredibly radiant, still beautiful. And entirely his.

Kenma Kozume Kenma doesn’t say much at first, just hums when you talk about fabric choices or wig types, fingers still busy with his console. But he listens and he remembers every detail.

He’s quietly fascinated by the way you throw yourself into cosplay , the artistry, the sheer amount of effort you put into becoming transforming yourself into someone else. He definitely enjoys if you cosplay his favorite characters for him, but really the main reason he loves it is because of the way you look so incredibly proud cosplaying something he also loves.

At cons, he stays close to you, a little overwhelmed by the crowds, but soft-eyed and proud as you light up in front of cameras and fans. He gets a little grouchy when people flirt, gives them a deadpan stare over his phone until they back off. But he never stops you from enjoying it. He likes that you’re confident in your skin and in interacting with others in cosplay.

Later, when you’re back home and exhausted, he curls against you on the couch and presses a quiet kiss to your shoulder. “You looked cool,” he murmurs. “I like seeing you like that.”

Hinata Shouyou Hinata is so hyped. Like, way too hyped. He gets starry-eyed every time you show him a new cosplay concept, even if he doesn’t know the character. “Whoa! You’re gonna wear that? That’s so cool!”

He helps in any way he can, running to the store for last-minute glue, holding things while you hot-glue stuff on or adjust straps, sometimes even modeling something your wigs if you need. He is like your personal hype man always cheering you on.

At cons, he’s absolutely your number one fan. Takes a million photos, posts them with excessive emojis and proud boyfriend captions, grins like a maniac when people ask if they can take pics with you.

He’s so into it when you cosplay athletic or high-energy characters, especially if they have Hinata-level confidence. And you bet he’ll be on board if your wanna do a couples cosplay. He doesn’t care who you’re dressed as, the fact that you're so passionate and joyful, that’s what gets him.

“You’re like, the coolest person ever,” he says one night after a con, head in your lap. “How did I get so lucky?”

Oikawa Tooru Oikawa sees your cosplaying as a full-on art form he marvels at it, and sometimes low-key gets jealous because of it. “So I’m dating a supermodel now? Should I be jealous of your followers?”

He lives for getting exclusive sneak peeks of your outfits. Will shamelessly ask for private photoshoots just for him “You can't just show the world, right? Your number one fan needs a personal preview.” He’ll help zip you into costumes with kisses to your shoulder like he can’t help himself.

At cons, he’s half arm-candy, half bodyguard. Flirty, proud, but keeping an eye on everyone that looks a little too interested. He’s got that smug boyfriend energy, like yeah, this drop-dead gorgeous cosplayer? That’s his partner.

But when the lashes come off and your feet ache and the makeup is smeared, he cups your face like you’re still the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. “You’re amazing,” he whispers. “All of it. Every version of you.”

Atsumu Miya At first, Atsumu’s reaction is a mixture of teasing and awe. “Yer gonna walk around dressed like that? Babe, ya tryna kill me?” He says it with a grin, but you catch how his gaze lingers , the way he is admiring you.

He loves the transformation. The confidence. The acting. He’s the loudest person at the con cheering when someone asks for your photo. He even offers to cosplay too ,something matching, and maybe something sexy, just so he can show how much of a power couple you are.

He gets a little too smug when people look at you, wraps an arm around your waist and smirks like he just scored an ace. But it's not insecurity. It’s pride. Atsumu’s the type to fall harder every time you do something bold.

Later, when you’re alone, he’ll tug you into his lap, voice low: “Y’know, I already thought ya were outta my league. But when ya dress up like that? Damn, angel. Ya really tryna ruin me.”

Suna Rintarou Suna doesn’t say much. He sees you working on your costume, crouched over with your brows furrowed, and just watches for a while, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“You’re insane,” he mutters when you talk about sewing at 2 a.m. or gluing foam pieces to your body. But he never tells you to stop. In fact, he secretly likes it, seeing how passionate your get and how it usually ends up in total chaos. It reminds him of how he feels about you.

He snaps photos of you constantly. Candid ones. Close-ups. Little moments. You rolling your eyes, putting on makeup, adjusting a strap. He doesn’t post them. Just keeps them. For him.

At cons, he’s quiet, present, protective. Someone gets too close? He steps in. Someone makes a comment? He stares them down without a word. He’s not like flashy about it like Atsumu, but he’s always watching.

Afterwards, when you’re sprawled out in bed, exhausted and happy, he murmurs against your skin, “You looked hot. But I like this version of you more. Just mine.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Thanos x toddler who doesent want to go over to grandmas house cause its in the appa only phase but thanos has a concert he needs to be at?

Appa, No Go

Character(s): Choi Su-bong x toddler daughter, mentions of Grandma Summary: Su-bong has a concert to get to, but his daughter has other plans—and none of them involve being separated from her favorite person in the world.

Warnings: Pure fluff, toddler tears, Dad guilt, mentions of music industry Word Count: ~1,000

Setting: Post-canon AU – Su-bong survives, goes back to music, becomes a full-time rapper and part-time super dad.

“Appaaaaa,” she sniffled, small fists wrapped in Su-bong’s hoodie like her life depended on it—which, to her, it absolutely did.

Su-bong crouched next to the couch, concert outfit half on—black cargo pants, boots laced, stage mic still charging on the kitchen counter. His baby girl, barely shy of her second birthday, was refusing to budge from his lap, her soft cheeks pressed to his chest like Velcro. Her overnight bag sat untouched by the door.

“Baby, you love Grandma’s house,” he tried, voice warm but fraying around the edges. “She has all the good snacks.”

“No.” A shake of the head. “Appa. No go.”

He exhaled, running a gentle hand over her tiny back. “I know. I don’t wanna go either.” That was the truth. Every part of him would rather stay here, tangled up in bedtime songs and milk cups and soft toddler snores. But he had a set to headline, fans waiting, people counting on him.

And still—his daughter whimpered again, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to climb into it like she could hide there.

“Appa, hug,” she murmured, barely able to get the words out through her baby teeth and tears.

He closed his arms around her instantly. “Always. Appa hugs forever.”

She calmed a little—just a little—fingers clinging to his chain necklace like a comfort object.

“Hyun-joo,” he whispered, kissing the top of her hair, “Appa has to go make music, remember? The boom-boom song?”

She nodded faintly. She knew what concerts were. She’d even watched clips of him on stage before, pointing and babbling, “Appa! Boom-boom!”

But knowing didn’t mean understanding. Not when she was this small, and not when “Appa only” felt like the center of her whole universe.

The knock on the door startled them both. His mother peeked her head in, smiling gently.

“Is she still on you like gum on rice?” Grandma asked with affection.

Su-bong sighed. “Glue stick levels, eomma. Full cling.”

The older woman stepped in and crouched nearby. “Come on, little bean. You can bring your Appa doll, and I made gyeran-jjim just for you.”

“Appa, no gooo!” Hyun-joo wailed again, louder this time, as if she’d just remembered the world was unfair and screaming was the only protest left.

Su-bong looked at the clock. Then at her trembling lip. Then at his mom, who gave him that patient I’ve raised you, I know this game look.

He sighed and pulled out his phone. “We got five minutes, right?”

“You’re gonna be late—”

“I’ll be fast. Just—lemme try something.”

He held up the phone and turned on the voice memo app. “Hey, baby,” he said softly into the mic, Hyun-joo watching him through teary lashes. “This is Appa. If you miss me, press the play button. Okay?”

Then he hit record: “Hey, my strong girl! Appa loves you so much. I’m on stage right now, but I’m thinking about you. Be kind, eat yummy food, and don’t forget—Appa hug soon!”

He hit stop, then showed her the red button. “You press this when you want to hear Appa. Want to try?”

She sniffled, nodded once, and tapped the screen. His voice echoed gently from the speaker, and her little face crumpled again—but this time with relief.

“Appa love me,” she whispered, touching the phone to her cheek.

He stood, finally easing her into Grandma’s arms. Her fists reached for him again but didn’t flail this time.

“Appa hug soon?” she asked, eyes wide.

He kissed her forehead. “Appa hug soon. Before bedtime.”

She didn’t smile, but she nodded. It was enough.

As the door closed behind him, Su-bong leaned against it for just a second, eyes shut.

Stage lights and bass beats waited for him. But so did that tiny voice—and every song he rapped tonight, he’d rap with her in his heart.