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maladaptive-ninja · 13 days ago

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OHMYGAAHHD WOMAN!!!!!

I am…I don’t have words

To imagine it as Steve and then as reader

GODS HAVE MERCY!!!!

The switch

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Steve Rogers x fem!reader. Word count: 2969. Content: Body swap, ethics I guess (or lack of it because) smut (fingering, mini-handjob-ish, P in V). A/N: As per usual please like, comment, reblog. Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more.

The switch

Something went wrong. Some trigger or something had been set off the moment you and Steve entered the small side room to check it out: the door had slid shut and locked, the countdown begun. Then the light had flashed once so brightly you had to shield your eyes, unable to cover your ears then for the horribly whining sound that knocked you to your knees as if it had a physical power more than blasting your eardrums.

Blinking and not seeing anything, you call out for Steve. Your voice is warped and you figure that it’s the noise that’s done a number to your hearing...but everything feels wrong. More so when you blink again and your vision comes back, showing you most of your arms and both your hands.

Not me!

“Steve?!” you call again, painfully aware that it’s not your voice you hear.

“What...?” is the answer. In your voice.

And there you are, looking down at yourself in confusion and horror before meeting your gaze – meeting Steve’s gaze that is now you.

You feel stronger than normal when you get to your feet. Taller too from this point of view.

Reaching down to pull yourself up or rather pull Steve up, you’re baffled by how easy it is to pull him (You? Her? Them?) to the feet.

“What the fuck happened?” you ask.

“We...switched?” Steve has a hard time accepting the facts too.

You nod. “Well...we need to undo it, then.”

You both look around for a way to trigger the event again but all you had done was enter the place. Just then, an explosion rocks the building, reminding you both of the timed detonators you’d been planting everywhere.

“Banner and Stark with have to fix it,” Steve decides, “we’re out of time.”

---

It is surprisingly easy to convince everyone in the Tower of what has happened despite how impossible the whole thing sounds – mainly because the way each of you with your mannerisms just doesn’t match the body you have. You don’t normally speak so confidently, taking charge and giving orders. And Steve, he doesn’t normally desperately try to sit cross legged (which you might have to give up on because it’s squishing something) or withdraw to the corner of the room to avoid people looking at you. Him.

Either way: Banner is more than intrigued, promising to do what he can. Stark seems to be plotting something but whether it is a series of bad puns or something useful is yet to be determined.

“We’ll get right to it,” the inventor promises, patting Banner on the shoulder, “go get washed and stuff, you look like shit after the building almost falling down on you.”

Covered in dust and sweat, you would normally be the first to run off and relax in the luxurious shower...but this time? You look down over yourself (or rather, Steve’s body) and then meet his/yours gaze that’s filled with concern because how is this going to work out?

The others have left the room already, leaving you and Steve alone to figure out the conundrum.

“How...? But...?” Steve is stammering.

You’ve never heard him that hard pressed before but the effect is somewhat softened because it’s your voice and your body doing it. And because you feel the same trepidation.

It’s not like you haven’t looked at Steve: he’s hot and there’s no reason to deny it. But the idea of having to undress as him and lather the body in soap and – it threatens to become too much so you push the thought aside.

Instead you look to the floor. “I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” he breathes out. “But I would feel better if you were there?”

Head snapping up, you scrutinize your own face for any signs that it’s true and finding none of your usual tells of lying at least.

“Oh okay,” you mumble with Steve’s voice.

Walking side by side, you’re struck by the size difference. You’ve never considered yourself short but maybe you should have.

Steve-you glances up at you and sends a comforting smile. It’ll be alright. Somehow.

You go to your room first to gather some clean clothes. Seeing his big hands rummage through your underwear is strange, and sends a pulse of something you’re not familiar with into your groin at the idea of him knowing what you’ll be wearing under your clothes.

Then again: it’s nothing compared to the fact that he’ll be seeing you naked in a moment!

Then you shift to his room, feeling severely out of place. It’s perfectly neat, the bed made with military precision and not a single thing out of place except on the desk which is littered with sketchbooks and pencils – you cast a glance at it and are surprised to find sketches of everyone of the team...but mostly of you.

Stepping over, you pick up one of them. It’s you, deeply engrossed in a book and sitting in the corner of the couch with your feet tugged under you. It’s really good even if it’s just loose pencil strokes and sort of messy. Another is a study of your face, teeth digging into your bottom lip as if you’re thinking or trying to remember something.

“You weren’t meant to see them,” your voice apologizes and you turn to Steve-you who’s wringing the hands awkwardly.

“They’re good. Really good,” you assure him.

Putting the drawings back, you refocus on the task at hand and start investigating the suit you find yourself wearing. There are a lot more zippers and buckles than you at realized at first glance, confusing you as to where to start so you’re happy when Steve-you steps up and silently begins to help you out.

It feels good with the cool air on your skin, as the outer layer is discarded and you’re left with a tight t-shirt and boxers. And socks. Seeing as that’s the easiest place to start, you remove them and then the t-shirt.

You try to look at anything except yourself or rather Steve’s body. You also don’t want to look at yourself, afraid of seeing how uncomfortable Steve must be. Unfortunately that means you’re looking around the room, spotting the reflection of the scene in the large mirror on the wardrobe.

Fuck. Steve is hot.

Something warm coils into your belly but then radiates lower and becomes a throb you hadn’t expected. Screwing your eyes shut, you realize that the shower will be a serious problem and that maybe it had been better if you’d each dealt with it on your own.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

You nod, maybe a bit frantically. “Yeah, sure.”

Turning to face him-you, you see he is unzipping the suit after having taken the boots off. He makes a point out of keeping eye contact which makes the movements a bit fumbling.

“Let me help,” you offer, stepping closer.

It’s strange to see Steve’s hand pulling the sports bra over your head. It’s even weirder (and more troublesome) as you kneel to drag down the undies. You can feel the cheeks you currently have blushing and you feel that odd throb in your groin again when your usual feet step out of the underwear so you can lay it aside with the dirty stuff.

“You too,” Steve-you reminds you.

He still hasn’t sneaked a glance at the body he possesses and you are grateful for that. But when you push down the boxers, it’s like something is in the way and both of you glance down just as the elastic fabric lets go of what turns out to be more than a half-hard cock.

“I’m so sorry!” you sputter, eyes wide with horror and shame as you look at the owner of the erection.

“It-it happens,” he waves you off, unsure where to look to himself. “Let’s just...”

You follow the smaller figure, for the first time noticing the sway of the hips, into the bathroom where Steve-you turns on the water. Errant droplets fall on the breasts, making the nipples pucker and you see the twitch in the hands as though they want to wipe the cold away but stop just in time.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, voice raspy and low which sounds way too good for you, sending a new throbbing through you.

“It’s just...not how I imaged it.”

“What?”

Steve shrugs with your shoulders as if trying to hide. “Seeing you naked for the first time...”

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in. The meaning behind them.

“You have...oh,” you whisper, suddenly a lot more relaxed because you had thought it was only you.

“Sorry, I know you don’t think of me that way but I -”

He never gets further because you turn Steve-you around, grabbing the familiar face and planting a kiss on the lips. A sharp intake of breath. Small hands find your shoulders, your neck, drawing you closer.

And then it happens: just for a split second, you’re back in your own body. It doesn’t hold but it’s enough to become aware of how Steve tastes, how his lips feel on your own. Both of you break off, gasping and looking at each other with wide eyes. Could this be the way to get back to normal?

“Did you?” you gasp.

“Yes!”

Lips meet again. Hasty, messy and with teeth clicking against each other until you both slow down a bit. You got lost in the feeling of it and allow the large hands to slide down your actual back, feeling the goosebumps spread in waves from the fingertips.

Again. A split second or maybe two this time. You in your own body pressed against Steve, his cock twitching against your abdomen. And you feel the heavy need in your core, spurring you on even if you’re back where you belong.

But then you’re not. Once more you’re in Steve’s body, dizzy and frustrated in more than one way.

Maybe that’s why you don’t object when he-you pull you under the water and reaches down to grab the throbbing shaft. You can’t help it – neither the groan you let free nor looking at what is happening.

Pulling down towards the base slowly, the hand looks so small around the cock. It’s mushroomy tip is red and angry, sensitive to the water that’s falling. Going back up, the thumb brushes the downside of the cock-head gently but insistently, making your knees buckle as it sends a pulse of something intense through your body.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“Want me to stop?”

“No! I mean...no...it’s just...” you try to find the right word. “Intense? Different?”

A smile, sweet but not innocent as you would have expected from Steve even in your body.

“There’s...I always wondered...” he begins but then lets the sentence hang.

You understand him anyways: how does it feel for the other? Now is your chance to find out.

Reaching past, you grab the shampoo and gentle start to wash his or technically your hair the way you normally like it. Rubbing the scalp until you hear a little moan as Steve stands there with closed eyes and hands resting on your now broad chest.

After rinsing it out, you take the soap and lather up the body, feeling the curves in a whole new way and paying special attention to the spots you know are sensitive, causing Steve to whimper softly as you roll the nipples between your fingers for instance.

But where he’s been purring with delight all the time, he falls silent when your fingers reach the V of your thighs, pushing in between the folds to wash there. You can feel a slipperiness that’s different from the water and the soap. Making sure to spread it to the sensitive nub, you circle the clit carefully, allowing Steve to really feel what it’s like. His hands curl into fists on your chest and he lets out a shivering breath.

Slowly, you speed up, rubbing tight circles that match the breathing that speeds up, breasts heaving and eyelashes fluttering.

“I...I can’t...it’s...” he mewls with your voice.

Taking a moment to turn the smaller body in your embrace, a strong arm around the waist for support. You gently slip a finger into the core to gather the abundant slick. It makes Steve’s breath hitch and you can’t help but wonder if you do that too normally.

“Just feel it,” you murmur into an ear as you switch between pumping into the fluttering core and rubbing circles on the clit, “it’s okay...I want you to know.”

He comes with a strangled moan. Legs giving after as pleasure surges through the body and you’re happy you’re strong enough now to hold the weight for you both.

In a flash, you’re in your own body, overwhelmed by the intensity of the orgasm that still is rolling through you.

“Steve!” you cry out. His finger is still on your clit, just pressing but not moving – it’s your body that’s shivering on the digit, creating a minimal friction. “It worked it -”

And then you’re back. Out of breath and hovering over yourself. Steve can’t help but moan as the aftershock hits him.

It’s tempting to continue, to power on in the hope that it will make the switch back permanent, but Steve’s a wreck and you decide to be nice because you would have wanted that for yourself. So you rinse the soap away and help him-you refind the balance.

Then you wash yourself, now less worried about the nudity, and eventually exit the shower where Steve is waiting for you.

Barely towelled dry, you can’t keep your hands and lips to yourselves and it because a messily tangled trip to the bed where you allow Steve-you to push you down before crawling onto you.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you say, voice raspy with need.

“Don’t stop.”

That’s all you need to hear and you tumble you and Steve over so you’re on top, hips slotted between the plush thighs. You still have a boner, and now you watch as nimble hands guide the head of it to the entrance, sliding it back and forth to spread the juices and make the slide easier. You’re not even pushing in and already it feels good.

“Will it hurt?” Steve suddenly asks, big eyes full of worry.

“It’s a...” you glance down. Yeah. It’s big. But you’ll be careful. “I’ll go slow and you just stop me if it’s too much.”

“Alright. You too.”

Pushing in with your hips you don’t get far before your brain short circuits and you decide it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt in this body. Tight and warm and soft. You’re holding your breath and now you have to let go of it, a ragged gasp that’s echoed from Steve.

“So good,” he mewls.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Pushing in inch by inch, you take your pauses to allow both of you to get used to the feeling but there’s an urge inside you to just...thrust. Pulling back a bit, you test it out. And then again just for good measure. Okay no, this is the best you’ve ever felt in this body as you thrust in and out slowly, sheathing the cock fully and making your body beneath you tense up so prettily. Steve’s holding on to your shoulders for dear life, legs wrapped around your waist.

“Fuck,” you groan.

Something is dragging along your cock, bumps or ridges under the silken smoothness. It feels so good. You can feel something tightening inside you and you instinctively know you won’t last long – too overwhelmed by all the sensations.

“Touch yourself like I did in the shower,” you gasp.

Snaking a hand between your bodies, Steve-you does as you say and is soon out of breath, whining and moaning and begging so prettily for something. Anything. You know that feeling and you’re sharing it with him now, wanting so badly to cum.

“Just a bit more,” you promise, upping the pace.

There’s a flash where everything is different: you lying under Steve who shakes his head at the change. He’s so deep inside you, you can feel his cock kissing your cervix. And you’re right there, right on the edge.

It all changes back but now it’s like a part of you is being sucked inside of your groin and you can’t keep the rhythm going instead you just ram into the sweet wetness that’s gripping your cock so tight until suddenly it all explodes and your soul is being shot out through your dick that you press so deep you can. You can’t see anything, can’t think. Just feel the pleasure as it rocks your body white hot.

“Fuck,” you groan but it’s your own voice and it’s your cunt pulsing around Steve’s cock. It’s you who’s clawing onto he’s shoulders.

Steve isn’t saying anything. As you peel your eyes open you can see that he’s got his eyes screwed shut and lips digging into the plush of his bottom lip. But he is himself and you are you.

For a moment you just lie there, letting the waves of the orgasm and aftershock roll through you while you wait for the inevitable to happen...but you remain yourself and Steve opens his eyes to look at you, smiling shyly.

“That was...damn!” he admits.

“Yeah.”

Reaching up to kiss him, you’re happy that he reciprocates without hesitation.

But he’s frowning when he pulls back a moment after. “How are we going to explain this to Bruce and Stark?” he asks.

“We’ll just say it went back to normal on its own?”

“And us?” You can see the concern in his pretty blue eyes.

You swallow. “I don’t want normal anymore, please.”

“Me neither.”

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maladaptive-ninja · 17 days ago

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Aaaarrrrggfgggghhhhh!!!!

Why is he like that!!!!

Hate that I love you

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen. Pairing/starring: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader. Word count: 2366. Content: Love/hate situationship. Near-death situation. Smut. Lots of that peppered with hatred and desire and need to dominate the other. A/N: This is inspired by Jonathan Roy’s “Hate that I love you”. It’s a whole ass mood. As per usual please like, comment, reblog. Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more.

Hate that I love you

--- Gojo’s PoV ---

Just a glimpse is enough to make his blood boil and hearing her voice is even worse – the silken sound that curls into his ear like it lives in his mind. It makes no sense why she can get him so agitated and he hates himself for it.

Today is no different. He doesn’t even have to look around to know she’s there because the moment he steps into the room, he zeroes in on the scent of her perfume. Or is it a soap? Shampoo? He’s tried to find it in the shops – not because he likes it but because he wants to get used to it so it doesn’t bother him – but it’s been impossible to track down for him. Anyways. She’s sitting, one pretty leg over the other and skirt riding a bit high, chatting casually with Suguru.

That asshole. Suguru knows how much Gojo hates her guts and still it’s like he goes out of his way to get her into a situation where she’s in the same room. Like now.

“Why’s she here?” he demands, turning to their sensei.

“Because the three of you are exorcising a school together,” Masamichi explains. “Shoko’s on another job.”

He hands out a few papers with sightings, “mysterious happenings”, and a missing person’s report.

“Geto and I can handle it.” There’s no doubt in Gojo’s voice – they are the two strongest sorcerers after all.

He knows Suguru must be rolling his eyes, and Masamichi is probably sporting a tick in the clenched jaw. But her. She just smiles sweetly as if it’s just a fun game.

“Don’t worry,” she soothes, making a shiver run down his spine as if she’s just caressed him with her fingertips, “I won’t get in your way.”

“You better not.”

Masamichi huffs. “Keep a lid on that shit until you’re back. Now get going.”

--- Reader’s PoV ---

You hate him...but as opposed to him who is so desperately frustrated, you have a hold on it and can use it to torment him. It’s the only thing you can do or it’d drive you insane because as arrogant Gojo might be he holds a sway over you that invades even your dreams.

Suguru is easy: smart, handsome, kind despite his high level of self-confidence.

Gojo...Gojo is a pain in the ass.

You don’t know when it started, what set it off. You just know that as much as he despises you, you are sure you aren’t going to give him a leg to stand on. Not that you’ll pander to him and try to make him think better of you. No, that’s his problem. You are going to beat him at his own game, teach him a lesson.

There are differences, though. Gojo is rash and impulsive, trusting in his own powers to the point where he acts as if he’s unbeatable. You? You think things through first and that’s why you try to keep your distance from Gojo most of the time because you just know that one day the balance will tip and the whole thing will turn into a mess.

Now you don’t have a choice.

You’ve never been on a mission with the guys before and you’re eager to see them flash their skills. Yours a far from as flashy: you just immobilize and restrain any curse whose gaze you can meet. You’re not coming along to kill or exorcise them yourself but you can be good to have around in order to get the upper hand.

--- Gojo’s PoV ---

The smaller curses lingering in the school were easy to deal with. They even seemed relieved to be exorcised and while Gojo had been happy to oblige, it had made him worried why that was so.

The answer had been simple: they were small fish in a fish tank shared with a shark. A much stronger curse tormented them as much as the humans in the school. It was strong but they dealt with it...infuriatingly because they’d been able to lure it out on the playground, revealing it’s entirety. Once it was frozen in place it was a walk in the park.

And Gojo hates that. Hates that they’d turned out to have needed her help.

Back at the institute, Suguru has gone to give their report to Masamichi while Gojo hits the showers to cool down in the shower.

Closing his eyes as the water pelts him from above, he sees the scene replay of how she had stepped out right in front of the curse. Unblinking. So small compared to it as it sought to erase her from existence, the claws stopping a few inches from her chest. It had been sickening to watch. She could have died. If it hadn’t looked her in the eyes...no, it was too much.

Turning the water scalding, Gojo focuses on just one part of the image, blotting out the monstrosity. Back straight and shoulders back, chest puffed out so the breasts strained against the jacket. The short skirt had been blowing anywhere by the wind, long stockings doing more for the modesty than the dark fabric of the skirt. She’d looked amazing. And Gojo hates admitting as much.

Hates it nearly as much as the fact that they would have been hard pressed to deal with the curse if she hadn’t been there. But she could have gotten hurt stepping out in front of the curse like that. Somebody ought to tell her that she was more lucky than smart.

--- Reader’s PoV ---

Freshly showered, you’re wrapped up in your bathrobe and sprawled out on the bed without any plans of moving anytime soon. Not even as there’s a knock on the door.

“I’m not here,” you call out.

Whoever it is just knocks more aggressively and then tries the handle – with success because why would you have bothered to lock the door? Everyone respects everyone’s space here. Not this time.

Not Gojo.

Nearly kicking the door in, he stand there, hair still damp and clinging to his temples. Pretty blue eyes cold with fury.

“What?” you demand before he has a chance to say anything. Just to tick him off.

It works. A vein throbs on his neck as he snarls: “You’re reckless!”

That’s quite an accusation coming from him and you can’t help arch an eyebrow as you push yourself up on the elbows.

“Even if I didn’t get eye contact with it, I would have been enough of a distraction to give you and Sugu a chance to overpower it.” You smirk a bit, knowing all too well the stories he’s entertained everyone with about his missions. “Besides...you’re not one to talk considering your own track record.”

Pushing the door shut, Gojo stomps over to the bed and leans down over you. “It was this close and you can’t protect yourself like I can.”

There’s something in his eyes you can’t place. A desperation. A weakness, you decide it must be.

“What’s this? You care?” you scoff.

Gojo doesn’t care. Gojo hates your guts.

That’s why it comes as a surprise to you when he grabs you by the hair, tilting your face so he can slam his lips upon yours. The connection sends searing hot tendrils through your body, pooling in your core as you kiss him back, fighting with him for dominance until you both are out of breath and have to pull back.

Then you stare at each other, chests heaving. Your hands are curled into his t-shirt and you can feel his heart beat madly against your knuckles of your right hand.

“Fuck,” Gojo murmurs just before he kisses you again.

You don’t disagree. He tastes of sour gummies and he knows how to tilt his tongue to reach the sensitive corner of your mouth before he bites into the plump bottom lip and pulls. One hand still tangled in your hair, the other is sliding down your body in search of the bathrobe’s belt. He’s half kneeling on the bed, straddling your leg and curling in over you as if he is a curse trying to possess you...he might as well be the way he fills up your world and is taking over your body.

Your own hands are pulling at his white t-shirt, dragging it up his back so you can feel his muscles bunch and roll with each move he makes.

He only pulls back to shed all of his clothes when you push him away. Unabashed, he drops the grey sweats, allowing his cock to stand freely and the sight of it makes you wetter than you already had become. You can’t help but stare and he notices – of course he does – smirking at you cockily.

“I’ll have you begging me,” he promises.

“I hate you,” is the only answer you can think of.

But you pull the cover of the bathrobe aside anyways, allowing him to see your body naked as you lie back down, legs spread to welcome him.

--- Gojo’s PoV ---

Her cunt is a slippery mess when he drags the tip of his cocks through the folds and begins to push in without preparing her. It’s tight. Tight and warm and wet and perfect and he loves it.

“Hate me,” he mocks, “but you take me so well. Fucking made for me.”

Her back is arching off the bed, eyes on his as if she could freeze him and this moment forever. She probably would too. Would keep him stuck there so she could be the one calling the shots, riding herself crazy on him but he won’t let her. He’s in charge.

Hands tightly around her waist, he pushes in as far as he can – until his hipbones are snug against her flesh, her ankles resting on his shoulders. Turning his neck, he can bite her leg if just he tips his head and he’ll be sure to leave bruises on her thighs.

It’s not so much that he moves his hips to pull out as he moves her body back and forth instead. Using her. And the drag is perfect. Her cunt is trying to suck him in, walls clamping around him.

He knows he has damned himself by doing this. There is no way he’ll be able to walk away from her and still be alright. She owns him. His heart. His cock. All of him. Groaning in frustration and pleasure, Gojo leans down over the woman, folding her into a mating press that allows him to pick up the pace, hips pistoning and the prettiest, filthiest moans falling from her lips.

“So close,” she whines, eyes screwed shut and brows glistening with dewy sweat.

“Beg me to cum.”

Her eyes snap open at that. “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t have an answer so he simply growls as he pulls out and turns her around.

Ass in the air, it’s too tempting not to slap her and the sound cracks through the room but she bites the mewl back, glaring over her shoulder as if asking if that was all.

Lining up, he rams in meanly. Bullying her insides with each thrust and pushing her up the bed until she can push back with her hands against the headboard.

And still she stays silent.

“Fuck you,” Gojo snarls, each word accentuated by his cock nudging against her cervix.

And he means it. She’s so infuriating! Perfectly shaped body begging for him to devote all his time to it, yeah, but it’s the fire inside her that has him going crazy.

His palm lands sharply on her ass cheek, making her jolt and tensing impossibly more around his cock before pushing back against him.

“That all you got?” she taunts, voice staccato and breathy.

But his right hand is already moving, abandoning the iron grip he had on hip and instead he searches between her legs. It’s a slippery mess, the arousal of both of them smeared across her skin and on the point he’s searching for: her clit. Pressing onto it makes her whimper and then moan, sweet and dirty sounds that tell Gojo that he’s in control and that she’s on the verge of cumming again.

“Beg me,” he growls.

“Ne-ever!”

That’s when he does the impossible: he stops. Stops thrusting hard and deep, stops rubbing her clit.

It takes her a second to realize, then she tries to continue on her own but he won’t let her – just gathers her wrists behind her back, not caring if she can breathe face-down in the mattress, and holds her steady.

“Gojo...” she whimpers while clenching around his cock.

“Beg. Me.”

For a moment longer she struggles, cussing him out better than anyone ever has before but eventually she stills.

“...” she murmurs something into the mattress.

“What was that?” he mocks.

Oh, he love the way she whimpers and writhes even now but...

“Please...fuck me ‘til I cum, Gojo.”

Thank fuck, he groans as he slowly begins to move again. It had taken all his willpower to stay still.

The sounds of her cunt fill the room together with their hard breathing. Then, as Gojo ups the rhythm, the slapping of skin against skin is added. Then her moans. Then little words of “please”. Pulling her backwards with one hand, he once again reaches around to play with her clit.

“Th-there...I...it’s...fuck!”

If she had been tight around him before, it’s nothing compared to how her walls take him now, quivering and pulsing as she cums and making him see white too. He fucks them both through it. Sloppy thrusts that pushes his cum deep inside her until she’s so full it starts getting pushed out, making a mess of the sheet but none of them care, too lost in the ecstasy.

He’ll never want any other than her.

--- Reader’s PoV ---

You had expected him to leave you there, spent and used. Instead he helps clean you up and snuggles down with you, an arm possessively around your waist.

“Fucking hate you,” you insist futilely just before you drift off to sleep.

“Hate you too, baby,” he whispers, kissing your neck gently.

#i hate that I like him now #only because of Tari

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