#I’m back bitches did ya miss me?

[neonanarchystudios]

Baby Eliksni are hug shaped

Here is my Titan Atlas and his adoptive Smallen son.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that. 

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[catiuskaa]

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before (Y/N) even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” (Y/N) shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” (Y/N) sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty was checking over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

****************************************************

Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don’t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

****************************************************

As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[vintagebishx]

DOWN BAD marc guiu

pairings: marc guiu x fem!reader

summary: IN WHICH, marc is down bad…

warnings: swearing, nothing major!

face claim: rubi rose

@ʀɪʏᴀʜᴅᴀɢ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ!

riyahdag

liked by alabamabarker, marcguiu9, and 802,389 others

riyahdag who you wish you were…

view all 564,453 comments

alabamabarker girllll😍

↳ riyahdag ❤️

user08 this girl is a different kind of fine bro

user06 riyah just gimme ONE chance😩

sexyyred bae fine asf😮‍💨

↳ riyahdag i love u🥹

user23 one sniff is all i need🙏🙏🙏🙏

liked by riyahdag

↳ riyahdag yo this is CRAZY💀💀

user87 she aight ig, low-key mid…

↳ riyahdag just like ya mama

marcsgirlx we see you marc🌚

↳ user56 fr he think he slickkkk

↳ user78 it’s just a like??? shut up…

kylianmbappe france misses you riri🤍

↳riyahdag i’ll be back so ky😘

user64 she knows kylian?

↳ user47 mhm, she used to visit her dad

in france all the time when younger

@ʀɪʏᴀʜᴅᴀɢ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ!

riyahdag

liked by marsaimartin, nickiminaj, marcguiu9, and 1,056, 976 others

riyahdag “mama you pretty wit no makeup” 😘

view all 989,365 comments

user53 i need her so bad it’s not funny no more

user27 i’d let her spit in my mouth…

ayatanjali sisterrr😩

liked by riyahdag

user64 i just let out the loudest moan btw

barcagirl_ marc isn’t trying to hide it anymore

↳ user34 it’s sooo obvious he wants her

↳ user65 he’s always in her likes too!!!

user84 i lowkey ship her and marc

↳ user49 tbh who doesn’t atp they would

be soooo hot together

↳ user59 i agreeeee

kylianmbappe 😍

↳ riyahdag 😉❤️

user61 y’all her and marc will NEVER happen

↳ user76 bitch how do you know that…

↳ user61 bcs she doesn’t even follow him

back i don’t even think she’s aware of

his existence🌚🌚

kyliejenner prettiest girl in the world

↳ riyahdag *you are!!!

marcguiu9 😍

↳ user87 WHAT…

↳ barcagirlie i told y’all🤦🏽‍♀️

↳ marcsgf MARC GET OUT

↳ user75 my brain can’t function

pedri hate club

(ig messages)

pedri

kys

seen by all at 19:03

today

 marcguiu9

↳ sent a post by riyahdag

i can’t take it anymore

i need her so bad

she’s so beautiful

_ferminlopez

damn

who is that😮‍💨

marcguiu9

my future wife:)

hctorforrt_

🌚🌚

she’s bad

lamineyamal

i want herrr😩

marcguiu9

↳ lamineyamal: i want herrr😩

its past your bedtime…

lamineyamal

funny

just message her

you have a big following i’m sure she will reply

pedri

or not😄

pablogavi

so negative😟

don’t deflate his hopes

marcguiu9

it’s what he’s best at

and i am NOT messaging her😹😹

joaofelix79

why not????

pedri

because he’s 🐈‍⬛

marcguiu9

↳ joaofelix79: why not????

bro where tf did you come from

and because she’s too fine for me😩

and she’s american it just won’t work

with distance

paucubarsi

i thought she was dating mbappe🤨

marcguiu9

WHAT???

paucubarsi

he’s always commenting on her posts

but idk don’t take it from me🤷‍♂️

marcguiu9

i can’t breath

 bro i fumbled😞

hctorforrt_

there was nothing TO fumble🌚🌚

you have never talked to her.

lamineyamal

like i said

JUST MESSAGE HER.

marcguiu9

i definitely can’t message her now

we are playing madrid in two days

i can’t message his gf and play against him…

lamineyamal

says who😏

paucubarsi

you need help.

marcguiu9

immediately too…

pablogavi

↳ marcguiu9: i can’t message his gf and play against him…

what????

that is not his gf

they are just childhood friends, they visit each other from time to time

_ferminlopez

i just walked into marc’s house

he’s smiling like crazy at his phone

😂 reacted by all

BIG RIRI 🐈‍⬛. Follow

@riyahdag

who tf is “marc” and why y’all keep bringing him up in my comments???🤨

00:13 21/6/2024 From Earth 21M Views

906K Reposts 21K Quotes 2.9M Likes 189K Bookmarks

AUTHOR SPEAKS!

i hate that tumblr only lets you add 10 pictures🌚

[billskeis]

˖ ࣪ ⟢ bill doesn’t think he’s a good fuck

looking at the screen in disbelief, replays the video as to bill’s ex girlfriend live streaming the announcements to why she broke up with her boyfriend, ‘why did i dump my sexy boyfriend..? because he was bad at sex!!!’ as voices around the class continue to mumble so loud that their secrets were no longer secrets. a pat to comfort his broken spirit, tom, gustav and georg stood by their lead singer.

“don’t listen to her bill, i mean, i know your dick isn’t as big as mine but surely you can’t be that bad!” tom exclaims, georg and gustav stare at the dread-headed boy in disbelief to his attempts in comforting his younger brother, “really helpful tom, are you serious??” georg spews but bill himself doesn’t even seem to be listening to him.

blood and thoughts rush to his head as be begins to feel dizzy, her agonizing voice booming through his head as a reminder as to that the multiple times they’ve done it, she’s never felt good. it was all, fake, and inevitably, all for nothing. how could she?? georg and gustav echo in the back of his head as they call her an attention whore who’s just looking for trouble, but again, bill can’t help but scroll through the comments of how lame of a ‘boyfriend’ he was.

“try not to let her get to yer head mr. sexy ex boyfriend, you deserve way better than this—oh, we gotta go now?? see’ya later bill!”

gustav leans to look down at bill’s face who sulks at his cellphone, quickly leaving as the three boys now have to leave for basketball practice. shutting his phone off and slamming it onto the wooden desk, bill remain seated in the classroom where bodies begin to dissipate in the academic environment at the sound of the school bell ringing for the end of the day. maybe he should just stay home tomorrow, he thought, or for the rest of the week, or for like, forever.

a tap on your shoulder causes you to turn to the figure that stood behind you, “hey y/n,”

with a smile, you hug the baggy-clothed figure. “tom! what’s up? where’s bill?” with a heavy sigh, tom looks at the floor, licks his lips and looks back to you, “that’s exactly why i’m here. bill hasn’t come out of his room in days. he’s missed more school than i have, can you believe that?? i mean, we knew that his lazy ass would’ve loved to skip to stay home, but he never actually followed through, d’ya think you could go see him? he won’t talk to me.”

you tilt your head in confusion, “if he won’t even talk to his own brother what makes you think that he’ll talk to his neighbour?”

“i-i don’t know, out of courtesy i guess? i know he’d hate it if he were ever rude to you, considering that you’ve helped us ever since we were young.. he’s always listened to you. just, please, give it a try? his morale has been down ever since the breakup,” and you’ve definitely heard of it, who didn’t. that crazy bitch of an ex had no hesitation in streaming the whole thing for the world to see, for even his previous ex’s before him decided to also come out about the same ‘problem.’ poor bill, you thought. you made a mental note to go to his house right after school.

with a knock to his bedroom door, school had finally ended and you made your way to the kaulitz household before going back to your own home to finally talk some spirit back into bill! greeting ms.kaulitz, she eagerly let you in with a pinch of your cheek and a thanks for trying to help her son out, mentioning that she can’t keep him home for any longer before he can’t graduate highschool.

“bill? hey, it’s me. can ya let me in? i need to talk to you,” but you were met with silence.

standing in front of his door, still, you waited, and waited. five minutes passed before you finally decided to give up and think that maybe he’s finally cracked and you were no longer able to provide him the comfort you and him were always used to. that is, until, you hear the creak of a door opening, implicitly inviting you into bill’s private space. widening the gap of his door, you’re met with your best friend, sat in his bed, wearing sweatpants and a slim fit greenday tee, messy hair and without makeup.

he hasn’t been crying, but his face is visible with glum, “hi y/n..” his voice, soft and quiet. you make your way toward his bed and plop yourself beside him, awkwardly hugging him.

“tom’s told me you’ve been missing school. c’mon. you’re gonna really let her get to you that bad?”

he sits there, just listening as you begin to ramble, explaining to him how you knew she was a bad person from the start. that she only really wanted him for the fame and if he was really that bad at sex? she as a good girlfriend would look past that and just love him for him, but she didn’t. biting his nails, he chips away at the black and white polish that adorned his fingers. you notice this, and immediately grab his hands away, intertwining your fingers with his and placing both your hands in your lap.

“—stop that. but anyways, it’s unbelievable!! like, i can’t believe that despite how long you’ve dated, she has the fucking gall to go and say that. and even worse, say it in public?? like are you kidding me?? what a bitch..”

and bill almost laughs, because you never swear. not in the many years that you’ve known him, and you made a promise to yourself that you never would. but today, of all days, had just become he day you broke that promise. who knew, that even although this wasn’t your relationship, you were angry. angrier than bill, THE ex-boyfriend. smiling, he appreciated you getting angry for him.

“is that a smile i see?” you tease, “in your dreams.. but, do you think she’s right?”

“right about what?”

“about me being bad at sex,”

“o-oh, uh, i haven’t actually thought about that y’know? being friends and all it isn’t really something that’s on my mind..”

“i have.”

“you what?”

“i’ve thought about it. about you. have been. for the past days, actually,” he brings a hand to caress the backside of your neck, that soon pushes your head closer to his so he can press a kiss onto your lips. already flustered, you use an arm to gently push away his body, that only fights back to be closer to you.

“bill.. we shouldn’t, you just got out of a relationship and—”

“please, schatzi, i wanna prove it to the world.. indulge me just this once ‘kay?”

“hnn.. bill, you’re taking too long..” you wail, sopping cunt that prettily sits above the pudgy tip of bill’s cock. you straddle his lap as you try to push yourself down onto his length but he only holds your hips still. “patience, baby. tryna savour every moment that we have together, ‘m trying here y’know, holdin’ myself back to reallyyy prove that i’m as good as a fuck that she doesn’t say i am.”

seconds pass that feel like agonizing hours, bill finally slides his length into your cunt, the shape of your walls perfectly moulding to his shape. bill’s pupils dilate at the sight of how you just swallow him whole, hugging his cock as you feel every pulse of him inside of you, “can i move?”

nodding, bill guides your body up and down him, slick already leaking onto his lap as he gropes onto your tit, squeezing the flesh to his liking, a needy hum eliciting from your lips. he stared, and stared, and wholeheartedly admired at how pliable your body was within his touch, bad at sex? yeah right.

“so pretty..” a low groan escapes as he brings his mouth to your chest, tongue swirling against the hard and sensitive bud, leaving you to entangle a grip into his hair, bringing his head closer to your body than it already his. “f-fuck bill, you feel, amaz—ah—amazing..” as he looks up to you from down below, he smirks as he nips on your chest, already tainted with hickeys you didn’t even know were there in such a short amount of time.

“yeah? feelin’ good princess? we’re more compatible than you probably thought so..” he’s talking about earlier, about how you never thought that you would ever have fornication with one of your best friends, “eeeek..! t-that’s because you had a girlfriend!! it’d be wrong to..”

a conflicted hum falls onto your ears, “considering that.. isn’t it also wrong how you’re circling your hips onto mine?? wouldn’t it be wrong that you just can’t help but fuck yourself deeper onto me while also complain that we’re ‘just friends?’” and you can’t help but feel as though bill is right. you’re just as bad as he is with how you continue to bounce on his cock, tongue lolled out for him to collect all the saliva that threatens to spill out of your mouth.

tongues dancing in harmony while your hips move in sync, the both of you chase your orgasms, “h-hahh.. y/n.. s’know what? am i bad as a fuck as she thinks i am..?” and you shake your head, you shake your head as bill begins to relentlessly thrust his cock to bully your cervix and body into total and utter submission, a pulse of electric pleasure surges through your body.

and he frowns to your lack of verbal response, a shake of the head isn’t enough. why won’t you say something? he wonders and wonders, and his wondering has led him to continues thrust as you bitch and moan from pressure of his mushroom tip that abuses the sensitive cunt that’s now his to please. “answer me, liebe.”

it feels dirty, it feels wrong. but the overpowering feeling of sex overpowers such thoughts, bill kisses your sweaty forehead as he awaits your answer. and you want to, trust me! you really do want to answer his question, this was the whole reason you decided to show up to his bedroom door, isn’t it?

“shit, gonna cum bill, wait—”

“but you haven’t” thrust. “answered” thrust. “my” thrust. “question :(.”

“yes!!”

“yes what, baby?” bill goads onto you as he brings the pad of his thumb to rub circles onto your clit, “say it.”

“you are a good fuck!! oh my god—” in an attempts to speak, all you manage to squeak out a short and sweet sentence. complete bliss clouding your mind as you begin to see white. however, bill doesn’t seem completely satisfied with your answer as he curls his arms tighter around your body, the slapping sound of skin growing louder by the second, “and what else?”

“makin’ me feel s’good! ah! i’m gonna come on this cock!! this cock that’s—mmngh—making me feel like i’m in heaven! oh..! oh thank you, thank you—thank you bill..!”

“that’s right, i am a good fuck aren’t i baby?”

hai guys , i’m back :3 bee tee dubz the setting takes place in highschool but everyone is of age ^_^

will i be active?? maybe not .. i have sm reqs to do and i’ll try to get em out asap , no promises tho <3 i love you all , and i guess i’m not ready to leave yet . see you next post !

[deansapplepie]

Can’t promise ya that Sweetheart

Daryl x f!Reader | Established relationship | pos savior war | Dad Daryl | little fluff

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating (not Daryl, of course), memory loss, Negan, a little bit of violence, mentions of death, killing threat, a little part of blood, pregnancy, mentions of birth, mentions of torturing, mentions of cancer. (If I forgot anything tell me) Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: This is a small story based on this dream that I had in the end of the last year. Finally decided to write something about it.

It didn’t go exactly what I had planned because of the dream, but here it is. Also, I wanted it to be a small drabble, but I turned it into a big one-shot.

Another thing is… Daryl and Reader have a 6 year old son, but in no moment I wrote his name in the history. I received a critique about reader’s son in The Spitting Image, so I’m still deciding if I’ll continue with DJ in my Dad Daryl fics, or if it will be only for The Spitting Image and I’m coming up with another name in my other fics. Just to make it clear, I have no intention in changing DJ’s name in The Spitting Image.

When the Greenes found you, the world had already ended. In one of Otis’ hunting leaves he encountered you, all bloody, your hair a mess of dried blood and dirty. At first he thought you were dead, but then you let a small cry and he checked your vital signs confirming you were indeed alive. That day he didn’t go back to the farm with good meat, he took you in his arms and arrived at the house urging for help.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes, Again✦

Guess who's back...back again-

Ghost @ DILF!Y/N: Stop making me have gay thoughts, General. I look at men and I feel weird. I feel strange. It makes me wanna do things. I don’t like that.

(This also works with Soap, of course)

-- (Based on that one Avatar moment that set the fucking bar for me. Also, bonus random name of an NPC) Ghost: Oliver is the best sniper. DILF!Y/N, real softly over Ghost’s shoulder: …well I don’t want Oliver. Ghost, a man with daddy issues: Ghost, internally: HOLD IT THE FUCK TOGETHER SOLDIER, WE’LL GET THROUGH THIS

-- Y/N: I was gonna say that if in ten years time, the two of us aren’t married, let’s agree… Gaz: Yeah? Y/N: To hunt each other for sport. Gaz: T-To hunt each other for sport?- Y/N: Yeah! D-did you just agree?! Gaz: I thought you were gonna say like, y’a know, let’s get married! Let’s- Y/N: Oh! Oh. Gaz: I’ll be your Gilligan! Y/N: I didn’t mean- the signals-

-- Gaz: Sorry! I thought I saw a wasp. Y/N: Do you love me too? Gaz, breaking his neck: Excuse me?

-- (NSFW warning) Y/N: Like- no I know it’s bad but bro I- he makes me such a whore. Soap: Okay like, on a scale of one to ten- Y/N: I’d let him cum on my glasses Soap: ON YOUR GLASSES?! Oh it’s serious. Y/N: I KNOW

-- 141: *looking at knocked out Graves* Y/N: I’m gonna check his pockets. Alejandro: For weapons? Y/N: No, to see where he keeps the fucking audacity. Soap: *wheeze* No no, bad timing, don’t be funny this is serious.

-- Y/N: You wanna go toe-to-toe with me, pretty boy? Alejandro: Go for it.~ I’ll give you the first shot. Y/N: Better make it count, casanova. Alejandro: I never half-ass anything, mi girasol. Ghost: Oi, keep your pants on and focus, would ya?

-- Soap: Missed me missed me now you gotta kiiii…. Simon: Now I gotta what? Soap: Nothin’ forget it- Simon: No no, now I gotta what?

-- Y/N, surrounded by attractive men: Am I…a whore? Y/N: *looks at them* Y/N: I don’t really give a fuck, HEY TEAM-

-- Gaz: Why are you just…laying on the couch? Usually you’re up and doing something. Y/N: Can’t move. Soap: Why?? Y/N: *sits up on their elbows and allows their neck to be seen* Gaz: *gasp* Nooooo… Y/N: Mhm. Soap: Nuh uh. Y/N: König carried me here. >:) Gaz: YOU WHORED! Y/N: I DID!!

-- Someone: Please PLEASE don’t tell anyone. Y/N: I won’t! I won’t, promise. Someone: *sigh* Thank you. … Price: *doing paperwork* Y/N, busting in: CAPTAIN!! Price: BLOODY FU-What in the world?! Y/N: *shuts his door and smoothly sits on his desk* Captain you will not believe what I have heard.

-- Soap: I’m gonna stop listening to drama. I’m gonna focus on my training, be a better person- Gaz: Right, right. Y/N, popping in: Guess who got caught sucking dick in the bathroom. Soap & Gaz: WHO?! Soap: *falls out of chair*

-- Price: Be nice. Y/N: I’m always nice! Price: Really nice, not bitchy nice. Y/N: …you tied my hands but fine.

-- (With a random backstory I have in my brain for König) Y/N: How do you uh, deal with all this trauma? König: I call my mutter. Y/N: That’s beautiful, K- König: Call my mutter a bitch.

-- Gaz: GIRLFRIEND STOP, GET BACK IN THE CAR Soap with zero self preservation instincts: *sprinting with a pipe bomb* YOU GET BACK HERE!

-- Y/N: This entire team is full of babygirls. Gaz: Oh not that fucking meme- Soap: Full of huh? Ghost: Call me that and I will snap your spine. Y/N: Bring it! An honor sir! Price: Jesus Christ-

[lunajay33]

Change Part.8

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.7

•Masterlist•

After the events of yesterday the world seemed worse, if that was possible, the gore of blood and death, the screams still echoed in my head and not having Daryl around brought me back to feeling weak, like when I could protect myself against Jackson

“Ya okay Angel?” I looked up from my spot on Daryl’s bike as everyone around us finished packing up their belongings for our drive to the CDC, hoping to find sanctuary there

“Oh yeah I’m just……I don’t know D so much has happened lately I just don’t know how to handle it, I’m scared” his hand rubbed up and down my arm reassuringly

“I’ve always got ya, you and our lil ballerina, I know this ain’t what we wanted but we’ll find a home again” his words eased my worries just a bit

“Ya still haven’t told me how ya got that bruise, it’s darker now” he asked gently tracing the purple and yellow bruise that blotted along my chin and jaw

“Oh that….i was down by the water yesterday trying to ease my aching legs and umm….Ed came he wouldn’t leave me alone and well this happened, thankfully Shane was there before he could do anything worse” I could see the anger rise in his expression

“It’s lucky that sum bitch is dead or I woulda killed him myself”

“Can’t say I’m upset about how he died, but of karma in my opinion” noticing him unclench his fists and sigh knowing I hate when he gets upset because he always gets so worked up and it’s not good for him

He ran his fingers through my hair grazing my cheek

“I haven’t gotten ta tell ya how beautiful ya look, why’d ya cut yer hair?”

“I just wanted a change, thought with everything going on it would be better with short hair to deal with”

“Daryl you ready to go?” T-Dog asked from across the way

“Ya we’re ready” he loaded the bike in the back of the truck and we were all off on the road headed to the CDC

After hours of driving we finally made it, the sun was setting and the walkers were closing in but thankfully someone above answered our prayers and opened the doors, quickly making our way inside, Daryl’s hand never leaving my hip making sure I was in his grasp the whole time

Jenner showed us around, Daryl brought me into one of the rooms closing the door shut as we both slumped down on the bed

“God what a day” I sighed rubbing my belly

“Ya got that right sunshine”

“Wanna take a shower with me, it’s been a while” I smirked walking to the bathroom doors

“Ya don’t gotta ask me twice”

The feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me resting on my bump as the warm water rolled over us felt surreal, amazing

“I missed this, did this almost every night back in the old house” he groaned into my shoulder

“Me too, remember how nervous you were the first time we showered together, you were so cute” I laugh as I run my hand back through his hair

“I ain’t cute woman”

“Mmmhmm sure”

I had just gotten home from a late shift at the dinner, huffing as I threw myself on the bed kicking off my shoes letting my sore feet breath, my family was gone on a trip not having even invited me, not like I’d wanna go anywhere with them

Then my door bell rang, groaning I got up and answered my mood immediately brightened seeing it was Daryl

“D! What’re you doing here?” I asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist bringing us both back into the house

“Missed ya, I know how work gets ya stressed and all worked up”

“Well you certainly made my night better by coming” I said leaning back seeing his little smile that always made my heart jump

“Have ya eaten?”

“Not yet but I want to take a shower first”

“K I’ll wait here” I went to head to the bathroom when I stop with an absurd idea, turning back to him

“Actually do you maybe……I don’t know, shower with me?” His face exploded in red but he slowly nodded following me to the bathroom

After showering we got in more comfortable clothes and went down with the other for a proper meal, Daryl had fun actually letting loose around the others, it was nice to see

Helping him back to the room he slumped on the bed immediately passing out, that night we finally had a peaceful sleep knowing there was no walkers getting in this time

Waking up in the morning to see Daryl was already gone, probably eating his weight in food from the hang over, I changed back to day clothes noticing my tank top was rolled up my belly more, I must have popped that’s when I heard alarms going off, my moment of appreciation for my little baby was gone, short lived like every fleeting moment now

Running down to the main room seeing everyone gathered, quick to get to Daryl’s side

“D what’s going on?”

“The damn generators are empty this place is gonna blow and that sum bitch locked us in here!” He yelled

This can’t be the end, no please not yet, there was still so much

“We need to find a way out I can’t die, YOU CANT LOCK US IN HERE” I screamed panicking now, Daryl held me against his chest as I cried

“I’m gettin us the hell outta here” he took an axe and started smashing the door barely making a dent

With some convincing Jenner opened the doors, Daryl grabbing my hand quickly running off the the entrance, getting out and back in his truck again before the explosion

“I can’t do this Daryl, all this stress it’s gonna kill me” I hiccuped from all the crying soothing my hand down over my belly

“Hey don’t speak like that, I know it’s hard but we gotta keep goin just a lil more sunshine”

“Just a little more”

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @deansapplepie @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken @shadowrose13-blog1 @absssposts @writer-ann-artist @dgeckobones @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @lettersfromyourlove @minnie-min @severelykinky @mordilwen-of-mirkwood

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

All Falls Down - Chapter 7

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @purplehairgawdess @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @harmshake @empressdede @jeysbae @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @raya-hunter01 @kawaiisadoglu @msbigredmachine @dietothemusic @2-muchsauce @tian-monique @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @wrestlingprincess80  @saintaquarius @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

“Hi baby,” Shanté said as she pulled herself up off the ground. “You miss me?” 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Josh seethed, stepping into Shanté’s personal space. “How did you get my address?! My fucking kids are here Shanté” Shanté shrugged and reached up to cup his face but he smacked her hand away, 

“Look, I know you said you don’t want to see me nomore, but that was just her talking right?” She stepped closer to him. “She’s making you stop talking to me.” Josh inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils and took a step back from her. 

“Shantê you gotta go, you trippin’ forreal.” Jon had stepped in between his brother and Shanté after successfully getting his nephews in the house. She sucked her teeth and mushed his face away from her which set off Trinity who had just come back outside. 

“Oh bitch you done fucked up now.” Trinity stormed towards Shanté and shoved her to the ground before getting on top of her and landing some pouches before Jon pulled her off of Shanté. Kiyana, who had come back outside also ran over and got a couple of hits on Shanté too before also being pulled off her by Josh. 

“You stupid bitch!” Kiyana yelled out as she was being carried into the house. “Don’t bring ya’ dumbass to my fucking house anymore!” Shanté pulled herself off of the ground and all but ran to her rental car and sped away from the house. 

Josh slammed the door behind him once he got Kiyana inside. 

“I want you  gone.” She seethed, pointing a finger in his face. “Pack your shit and get the fuck out!.” 

“Kiy-” He tried to cut her off but he stopped once he saw the look on her face. 

“That bitch came to my fucking house Joshua! Our fucking kids are here!”  Josh watched as Kiyana paced around the living room. Jon and Trin had taken all of the boys upstairs and he was very grateful for that because they did not need to see their mom this angry. 

“I don’t know how she got our address, Key. You know I would never put you or our boys in danger.” Kiyana rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious, Key.” She shook her head with a slight chuckle. 

“None of this would be happening if you would’ve just kept your dick in your pants. Like you really looked at that woman and said ‘yeah imma cheat on my wife with her’ “ She said, mocking his voice.  

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He was sorry and If he could go back 4 months ago and walk away from Shanté he would. “We had a good session with Dr. Ander-” 

“Fuck Dr. Anderson!” She shouted. “That woman came to my house. Any thought of working on our relationship is dead.” She gave him one more menacing glare before making her way up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door. 

It felt like Josh was having an episode of Déjà vu as he knocked on the bedroom door to let Kiyana know he was heading to the airport and would be back home in a couple of days. It was like they were back at square one, she had locked him out of the bedroom again and was back to ignoring him and only talking to him when the boys were around. 

He knew as soon as he entered the arena for Monday Night Raw he needed to put Shanté in her place. Her showing up to his house was completely out of line and quite frankly, she got what she deserved. 

Josh groaned as he entered the men’s shared locker room and saw Joe standing there talking to a group of NIL new hires that had been asked to come to RAW

“Good afternoon to you too, Uce.” Joe said with a smirk on his face as he dismissed the group of young hopefuls. 

“Why you here Joe?”  Josh grunted as he plopped down on the nearest chair. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, waiting for Joe’s response. 

“Working, just like you.” Joe snickered at the look that Josh threw his way. “I’m not supposed to be here or somethin’” ? Josh sighed again and decided to ignore Joe. They both snapped their heads towards the door when someone started to bang on it. 

“Josh! I know you're in there!” More banging “Come out here and talk to me!”  Joe smirked and raised an eyebrow. 

“You might wanna go handle that Uce.” 

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Josh glared over at Joe before standing up and going into the hallway to talk to Shanté.

“You gotta chill, forreal. You makin’ yourself look stupid as hell.”  It was at that moment , Josh realized he didn’t know what he saw in Shanté. She was being a bog pain in the ass ever since he told her that he didn’t want to see her anymore. 

“You just stood there the other day and let that bitch put her hands on me.” Shanté whined. 

“Whoa, watch your fucking mouth.” Josh glared over at her “You came to our fucking house, where our kids were and you expected my wife to not do anything to you?” Shanté rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“So now that's your wife?” Shanté scoffed, “I coulda swore a couple of weeks ago you was pillow talkin’ to me about wanting a divorce and being with me. But now you claiming her as your wife.” Shanté scoffed again and rolled her eyes.

Joe’s eyes widened as he listened to Shanté and Josh’s conversation.  You fucking dummy, Joe thought. A divorce? From Kiyana? Joe knew it wasn’t just sex between the two of them, not with the way Shanté was acting. Ain't no woman go act that way if it was just sex. Joe smirked as he got an idea in his head and pulled out his phone to call Kiyana. 

👀

don't give up on me yet y'all

i promise all the good stuff is coming, i just need to get Joe, Kiyana and Josh in the same room for all the good shit to start.

[tenjikufag]

HII!!! I’m new here and I was wondering if I could request a izana x male reader w izana fcking reader in front of Tenjiku

( sorry I’ve been having a izana brain rot lately)

-izanas husband

Eyes to the Front.

Izana Kurokawa x Male!Reader

-smut, nsfw, sub!top reader, dom!bott izana, public sex, cock-warming, mentions of other tenjiku members

-thank you for the request, miss this boy dearly. Unsure if you intended for this kind of public fucking but I hope you enjoy regardless!

You couldn’t even count the eyes that laid on you, all the division captains and the vice president watched on with unknowing eyes.

Izana sat on your lap, his waist hidden by the large table, your cock buried in his ass.

He spoke so normally, not even a quiver or stutter coming from him when he moved- making you bite your inner cheek when he clenched on you or rocked his hips or bounced.

“You sick, L/n?”

“No, he’s just a bit shy today..”

Izana grinned, pushing himself to the hilt on you and squeezing- his bright eyes looking back at you with a satisfied glaze.

“Ah, I see.”

No one questioned the white haired male, never questioning why he sat in your lap, why he spoke for you, why he did almost everything for you..

It was because you were his bitch.

His. Only his. Will only ever be his. And he will treat you accordingly, treat you how he thinks you deserve to be treated.

His body leaned forward, your cock just barely fully slipping out before he snapped himself back into your lap- you hissed out a moan, trying not to cause any more attention on yourself. Izana coughed lightly, clearing his throat to cover his own pleasure.

Your legs began to shake, every agonizing second felt longer than the last. His hands moved to your thighs, and he started thrumming against the plush skin; digging his manicured nails in rhythmically between the massaging motions. He began to bounce on you, only moving his waist up and down with his upper half leaned over the table to match the serious energy of the discussion being shared.

With every pull up, he clenched around you and loosened on his way down. You could barely contain the drool and tears pooling, resorting to leaning into your hand to act tired but underneath your whole face was set ablaze- your brows knitting in frustration and lip quivering in agony.

You were quickly becoming light-headed, the blood in your cock and all the blood rushing over your body to compensate for the overwhelming pleasure almost made you whine out of instinct- the primal urge to wheeze and wail out against him burning in your abdomen..

“Isn’t he such a good boy?”

Pulling away from your hand, it was quickly replaced by your boyfriends slender fingers as he showed off your flushed and fucked out face.

“Tell ‘em how good you’re being.. they wanna hear it from you.”

The members stared at you, vivid eyes covering every inch of you.

“..I’m a.. good boy..”

You’d managed to huff it out, Izana looked back at you with a frown.

“Moan it out for them. Moan it out like ya do for me dear~”

It was only then that you realized that they knew. They knew their beloved leader had you balls deep inside of him and they only watched on as if nothing was happening.

They could see how weak and pathetic you were when buried inside of him, how easily you were overwhelmed.

While you moaned, the captains only smirked at you. Now that everyone was in the know, Izana picked up the pace and was visibly fucking you infront of them.

“He’s so cute when he’s like this, too bad you guys aren’t into men~ not that I’d share though!”

He rode you, hips bucking up and slamming back down onto you with a slick slapping sound.

“Moan for the guys, will ya? Not just me that enjoys that pathetic whine of yours.”

You couldn’t disobey him, the moans started to fly out of your mouth almost as if you breathed in moans.

The meeting continued, your mewls of pleasure almost like a symphony playing in the background.

“He lasts awhile, impressive. You train him to do that?”

“He knows only I can say when he can cum. Y/n is such a good boy, he did take all my training well~”

Your tongue stuck out and dragged along your bottom lip, chest filling with pride as Izana bragged about you to the members..

“Check this out.”

Izana sped up, the sound of skin slapping bouncing off every wall along with his own breathy moans and curses

“Y/n. Cum for me.”

His stern command sent a shiver through your whole body, it felt pathetic how quickly you unloaded into him. You shrunk down into yourself as he laughed lightly, pulling off of you and reaching behind to show off a faint string of your white cum to the group.

The smirks and chuckles barely registered to you, far too tired and relieved to care..

“Meetings over, I have to clean up this mess.”

Izana pulled up his pants, fastening his belt as he saw off the members.

He looked back at you with a smile, licking the remaining dribble of cum off his finger.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Touch her and you'll burn

Pairing: boyfriend!Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x reader (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: When it comes to Satoru Gojo, you are his true weakness - after all, you've been his girlfriend for years. Toji doesn't miss that either and takes you prisoner without further ado in order to get at the white-haired man.

Warnings: violence, death, tortue, mentions of sa, hurt, language

„What a cute little thing you are. Too bad you chose the wrong guy as your fuck buddy. How did you two end up anyway? I bet it’s because he’s tall and his special appearance, you women all tick the same way. Whatever, let’s see how I will kill you today, sweetie. And maybe we can have some fun before, what do you think, huh?”

“Rot in hell, fucking asshole.”

You spit directly into the way too close face of none other than Toji Fushiguro. The man that broke into your apartment, drugged and hauled you into this dark and dirty room that is only lit by one small lightbulb. Your hands are chained to the ceiling, you’ve been kneeling on the floor for what feels like an eternity now. Not the best starting point to be honest.

“I love my women feisty, little bitch. Listen up.”

His rough hand yanks on your chin so harshly that you can’t help but stare straight into his cold eyes which are only inches away from yours. Sweat drips from your forehead against your already bleeding nose, your body slowly but surely begins to tremble from the cold and exhaustion.

“There are exactly two options for you. One: That fucker appears and you both die while trying to save your cute ass. Two: He’ll let you rot in here and I’ll kill you all alone. If I were you, I’d be nicer to the man who’s been taking such good care of me for the last hours and who’s responsible for my death.”

“My parents taught me not to talk to strangers, especially the stinky and homeless ones. Save your breath”, you hiss back.

His palm crushes against your soft cheek without any mercy. Dizziness consumes you instantly, your lifeless head falls to the side while blood squirts out of your nose again. Fuck, that hurt pretty bad. But still a quiet laughter escapes your lips. Does he really think he can crush your will with a few punches? Pathetic. You may not be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you’re damn though. It’s not the first time that you have to deal with assholes like him because of your precious boyfriend Satoru Gojo. He definitely owns you a shopping tour after that.

“What are you laughing about, brat?”

“Just thinking about how Satoru will kick your ass later”, you bark through gritted teeth.

“First he has to find me. I’m a non-jujutsu sorcerer, just like you. So he can’t detect me by my curse power either. Your mobile phone and your pathetic GPS necklace are in your apartment, Gojo didn’t protect you with his powers. Hurts huh? Apparently the other girl's more important to him. Treats you pretty badly, don’t you think?”

You don’t like to admit it, but his words make your heart ache for a brief moment. Deep down, you know that it was his job to protect her, that he cares about you the most even though you haven’t seen him in days now. Would he even risk her life to save yours? He told you over and over that you are his priority, his everything. But…you don’t know.

Will Satoru come at all?

You sink into your chains and stare at the man and his mischievous grin in front of you. It doesn’t matter if Satoru searches for you or finds you. But you won’t let Toji bring you to your knees so easily.

His gaze wanders through the room while he casually strides around. He needs to stay focused. Gojo is probably the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his lifetime. Kidnapping his girlfriend to weaken him and divert his attention from Riko is a smart move, but risky if Toji isn’t careful. And then there’s the fact that (y/n) is a pain in the ass herself.

“Where ya lookin’? I’m the view, asshole.”

“No wonder a slut like you is the girlfriend of someone like that Gojo guy. I’ll shut up your pretty little mouth soon enough.”

“Did you just say I’m pretty?”

Your maniac grin and disrespect catches Toji off guard. Of course he knew you would be a handful, but he’s a well-known assassin. Damn, he could kill you in a heartbeat if he wanted to, are you too dumb to see that? Is your trust in your stupid boyfriend really this big? Maybe he should in fact kill you instantly.

“I’d love to wring your throat right away, but before that I’ll show you where your place is.”

All color drains from your face in an instant, cheeky grin gone in the wind. Fuck, this asshole is about to unbuckle his belt. Your throat is tight, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe…Will he really? You shake your head in disbelief, limbs fighting desperately against the merciless force of the chains around your bloody wrists. No, you can’t let this happen. You would rather die than allow this man to touch you with his disgusting hands.

“Cat got your tongue, huh? What’s up, (y/n)? Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you’ve missed before you die.”

Toji wraps his arm around your waist and presses his muscular body against yours. The urge to puke into his face becomes unbearable as well as your impatience. Where the fuck is Satoru? You close your eyes in a desperate attempt to calm your thoughts and breathing. Even a man like him wouldn’t dare to assault you, not the girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. But since he’s not here at the moment, you’ll just have to take care of that situation yourself.

When you open your eyes again, there’s not a spark of humor left in them – pure determination and rage draw your face. With all the strength you are able to gather in your poor condition you put your head in your neck and yank it forward as hard as possible against his nose. You ignore the throbbing pain that seems to radiate from your forehead all over your body and the nausea that suddenly overcomes you. This is not over. Bracing your body against the chains, you push yourself off the ground and kick his chest hard with both legs. His huge frame stumbles backwards while his loud groan fills the room.

You breathe heavy, sight almost completely obscure by the waterfall of blood that streams down your head. With a satisfaction – filled grin you notice his bleeding nose. Serves him right, stupid asshole. He just shouldn’t have messed with you. After all, just because you are a non-jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t mean you’re not good at defending yourself. Who does this guy think he even is anyway?

Fuck, Toji rushes towards you with quick steps, the muscles under his tight shirt are dangerously tense. Not good. But even worse is that all you can do is stare at him through your tired lids and let him approach you. Damn, he is fucking furious.

“That blood really suits you, brings out your icy-murderer eyes, y’know. Man, you’d be so fucking hot if you weren’t a stone cold asshole. Could get yourself a nice girl.”

At this point, your words aren’t more than an uncovered fading whisper anymore. You are just so fucking tired of hanging in this room and fighting a hopeless battle. At least you die in style.

“Nice show, slut. But that’s it for you now. I hope you realize that I could have just dodged your pathetic punches. Just like that”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

With a swift motion of his arm, he grips your wrist and twists it. You see stars, bones audible shattering in your body. All color that is left in your face drains instantly, a cry filled with ache reverberates around the room and rings back in your ears. You feel like you’re going to lose consciousness at any moment. No, stay awake, bark back, show him that you don’t care.

But you can’t.

His right hand clenches into a fist. As if in slow motion, you watch it move towards your face. This is gonna hurt like hell, maybe you should close your eyes and pretend none of this is happening. You at the beach with Satoru, his delicious body exposed to the sun and your merciless eyes, dipping his face into the water over and over again until he begs you to stop. Yeah, that would be nice. Satoru…You love him so much that it hurts sometimes, some say you two are obsessed with each other. He wears you on his hands, you’re the only one who can match his sense of humor and has the ability to put up with his lifestyle. He would never allow that any harm touches your delicate skin, that you get involved into his work as a jujutsu sorcerer. But today it seems like he can’t save you. At least you can say you fought back as much as you could.

“Touch her and you’ll burn.”

Your eyes snap open immediately. There he stands, your boyfriend, your knight in shining armor with his sunglasses casually covering his bright blue orbs.

“What are you doing, (y/n)?”, he questions ironically while slowly approaching the both of you.

“I’m just out here being cute, y’know”, you mumble with a small smirk.

Satoru gives you a loving smile. At that moment you just know that everything is going to be okay, that he will kill Toji for tormenting you and that you’ll meet again in the sheets this evening.

“Took you quite a while to get here”, Toji comments dryly and turns away from you.

The moment his big frame moves away a wave of relief washes over you. If Satoru had come just a second later Toji might have filleted you and you are very aware of that. You are no longer interesting for Toji, after all you served your purpose as decoy.

With a swift motion, your boyfriend frees your hands from the chains that have already cut deep into your tender flesh. Your knees meet the hard concrete floor in an instant, your body is too weak to stand up on its own.

“Come on (y/n), get yourself together and walk out of that room. Suguru will meet up with you. This is about to get pretty ugly.”

The air is filled with thick tension as both men stand still and just look at each other. He’s right. You have to get up, get out of this fucking room, find Suguru. If you stay here you are only an obstacle to Satoru.

“Your girlfriend is quite a pain in the ass. Well, at least she’s hot, I see where you’re coming from.”

“Beat his ass a few times more for me”, you breathe out.

You can do this. With all the strength you have left in your body, you lift your aching limbs off the ground and stumble to the door. Satoru positions himself in front of you, alert in chase Toji wants to attack you.

“Hit me up later, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saving me. Even if it’s technically your fault I was trapped here.”

“How rude!”

With one last glance at you, he closes the door by one rapid motion of his arm.

You can’t help but let out a sign of relief. Fuck, this was a very close call – too close for your liking. Again your body lets you down and sinks onto the dirty ground in an instant. Your limbs are trembling, your mind goes numb. If you stay awake a little longer, you are able to find Suguru and get out of here…

“(y/n)?”

You would recognize his voice everywhere. How much you’d like to call out his name now so that he can find you and get you away from here, but the corners of your saggy mouth don’t move an inch. The ability to speak seems to be failing you completely at this point.

“(y/n)!”

Are you dying? You’re not sure. But your thoughts completely drift away until they’re utterly still. Finally rest, finally no more pain, finally-

“There you are (y/n). Stay awake okay? Let’s meet up with Shoko.”

The fear in Sugurus voice is unmistakable. His arms gently wrap themselves around your knees and back before lifting you up with ease.

“I hope you drove him insane with your talking”, Suguru gently whispers while sprinting down dark hallways.

“You bet I did.” ______________________________________________________________

God, you feel terrible. The second your thoughts begin to race again your whole body seems to be on fire. Your opened eyes get greeted by harsh lights.

“Can someone turn this the fuck off”, you mumble.

“Oh, there you are (y/n). Took you quite a while to get back to us.”

You recognize this voice. It’s Shoko, you’re with Shoko. That can only mean that Suguru brought you here. You must have passed out shortly after he found you. Your mind is clouded by faded memories and pain. What happened last? You were kidnapped and tortured by Toji Fushiguro, Satoru…Satoru was there, he saved you. After that, Suguru got you to safety.

“Where are they?”

Shoko sits next to you, a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

“This thing has gotten pretty ugly, (y/n)…But you’d better rest a little. Your boyfriend should explain this to you himself.”

“Are they fine?”

Your eyes are widened in horror. That look of worry on Shoko’s face is so unfamiliar to you that it makes your guts twist in thick fear. If something happened to Suguru because of you…Could Satoru defeat Toji all by himself? He is the strongest, right? Surely he had no problem with killing a basic non jujutsu sorcerer.

“Look who’s awake.”

Suguru’s figure is so tall that he dims the lights that irritated you before. He looks like he’s wearing a halo – how suiting.

“Suguru, you’re alright. Please tell me you’re okay”, you mumble, mouth still not able to process your battling thoughts. 

“I’m fine again. Don’t worry.” There it is, his usual bright smile. But something’s different. You can tell that the corners of his mouth don’t pull up as far as usual, that he looks overall…defeated.

“What…What happened? Where is Satoru?”

You can hear your own voice trembling in anticipation. Fuck, he would have been by your side the whole time if everything was alright. Your last encounter plays like a movie in your head. Did Toji?...This can’t be. It’s simply not possible.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!”

The sight next to Suguru makes you nauseous. Satoru’s uniform is completely torn and blood soaked, you can detect a small wound on his forehead, his white hair discolored in crimson. And god his eyes…He looks possessed. No, that can’t be your boyfriend. You hardly recognize him.

“Satoru, is that you?”

“The one and only! I did it (y/n). I killed that man!”

He roughly grabs your upper arms and leans over you. The weight of his huge frame against your throbbing skin takes your breath away. A whimper of agony escapes your lips while you squint and screw up your face.

“Back off, Satoru, you’re hurting her!”, Shoko yelps in an desperate attempt to free you from his grip.

“Look at me, (y/n)! I finally mastered reverse cursed technique and killed Toji for what he did to you. Anami was murdered as well as basically everyone else, but I did this for you! We both survived!”

The maniac look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. What has gotten into him?

“Satoru, are you on drugs? Let go off me!”, you cry out.

“I think we should get going now. See you, (y/n)”, Suguru interrupts and yanks Satoru away from you.

“B-But…I need answers! Get your ass back here! What’s the matter with you two!?”

“Don’t ask questions I don’t have the answer to (y/n).”

With one last look both men leave you alone with Shoko. What just happened? The girl…she’s dead? So Toji killed her after all. And the bruises on Satoru…Fuck, maybe that man was stronger than you thought. But he’s also dead, right? Your head begins to spin with all the scenarios that cloud your mind. You need answers, you need to talk to Satoru, you need to-

“You need to rest, (y/n). This one will blow you away.”

Her fingers snap against the syringe in her hand. Your eyes widen in shock, heartbeat picking up in an instant. No, you can’t sleep now, you need to talk to Satoru, he needs to explain what happened to him, why he looks so torn, why Suguru’s eyes were so empty.

“Wait Shoko, I-I need to t-talk t-to…”

A sharp stab in your upper arm. Then darkness. Nothing but darkness.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Stop trying to push past me, asshole.”

Angel Dust: “Move, I’m gay.”

Vaggie: “And I’m down here at 2 am getting a snack a drink for my girlfriend, what’s your excuse.”

Angel Dust: “Do ya want me raidin’ the fridge at weird hours, or doin’ drugs?”

Vaggie: “I want you to wait your turn and quite shoving.”

Angel Dust: “Ya gonna have to bribe me."

Vaggie: "With? Letting you live?"

Angel Dust: "Please, I'm gonna need way more than that- I wanna know why you’re wearing Charlie Chip’s button down shirt and ONLY her shirt!”

Vaggie: “Only one I could find.”

Angel Dust: “Oooh~?”

Vaggie: “She’s pretty annoyed at my clothes by the time she gets them off me.”

Angel Dust: "HA!"

Vaggie: "And I get pretty annoyed with you by default."

Angel Dust: "Aww thanks toots, my heart is all mooshy. Cotton candy princess got some SPICE to her, huh?”

Vaggie: “Yeah well, speaking of spicy, if any of my clothes made it out a window and onto the hotel steps again, they aren’t mine and I’ve never seen them.”

Angel Dust: “I mean I guess that shit lie will work… if they’re ya panties or whatever-”

Vaggie: “A thing that I wear. Right.”

Angel Dust: “-the rest is kinda an iconic outfit thing though, toots, don’t know anyone wouldn’t know who’s it- wait a sec- are ya saying ya DON’T wear-?”

Vaggie: “Here. Leftover cake.”

Angel Dust: “You can’t bribe yourself outta THIS talk, Vaggie Tales!”

Vaggie: “Sure I can, it’s triple chocolate and has sprinkles. Take it and hide or else everyone else will come crawling out of their rooms for a share.”

Angel Dust: “Crawling, ya say?”

Vaggie: “Literally. Trust me.”

Angel Dust: “Hmmm… and, is triple chocolate-”

Vaggie: “Husk’s favorite. Have fun.”

Angel Dust: “We’re picking up the panty thing tomorrow, toots!”

Vaggie: (already leaving) “No we’re not.”

Angel Dust: “We sure as hell are! Maybe for real! Off the hotel front steps! IF YOU EVEN WEAR ‘EM!”

Vaggie: (already gone) “Go pick up your Doctor Seuss crush before the cake gets stale!”

Angel Dust: “YOU TAKE THAT BACK! He’s not a twink in a hat! HE’S A RUN DOWN TONY THE FUCKIN’ TIGER WITHOUT STRIPES AND AFTER A WHOLE CARTON OF SMOKES!”

Vaggie: (distantly) “Whatever…”

Angel Dust: “You’re just too lesbian to appreciate it!”

Vaggie: (fading out upstairs) “That, and I’m too not-single for it either…”

Angel Dust: “Oh that bitch….” (bites cake) (mumbling) (sulking) (single) “Hope Charlie Chuck yeeted her damn clothes clear across town.”

Charlie: “I didn’t. This time.”

Angel Dust: (SHRIEKS)

Charlie: “Hi.”

Charlie: (dropping down from ceiling and scurrying over the counter top wrapped in just blanket)

Charlie: “I wanna share an extra piece of the cake, please.”

Angel Dust: “DON’T BEDSHEET GHOST SCARE ME LIKE THAT! Fuck!”

Charlie: “Sorry! Cake?”

Angel Dust: “Didn’t ya girlfriend already get you a slice!?”

Charlie: “Of course she did!”

Angel Dust: “So what’s wrong with THAT one??”

Charlie: “It’s gone…”

Angel Dust: “Gone HOW-”

Charlie: “I started missing her and came down to meet her and the cake, um.” (points at stomach) “Didn’t survive.”

Angel Dust: “Un-bi-lievable.”

Charlie: “Caaaaake?”

Angel Dust: “Here.” (shares cake) “SHOO!!!”

Charlie: (shoos) “I’m shooing! And by the power of this cake, maybe I can throw MY shirt off of her this time!”

Angel Dust: “Oh your dad have mercy..... how much sugar have ya already had?”

Charlie: “Enough to shower a tit- uh sorry- THROW shirt clear across town!”

Angel Dust: “Just take it off her before ya yeet it.”

Charlie: “? Oh!! RIGHT!!!!”

-an hour later at angel dust’s door-

Charlie: (knocking) “Angel? I need you to watch the hotel for little while!”

Angel Dust: “I’m busy! Don’t interrupt the cake!”

Charlie: “PLEASE Angel Dust it’s IMPORTANT and I wouldn’t bother you but I can’t find Husk so-” (door opens) “-oh hi Husk, can YOU please watch the hotel for me??”

Husk: “Why the fuck.”

Charlie: “I need, to go apologize, to my girlfriend.”

Angel Dust: “Vaggiraptor is right upstairs, ain’t she? Why’d we have to watch the hotel for that?”

Charlie: “Because I…”

Charlie: “…I need to figure out, where she landed, first…”

Angel Dust: (GASP) “Nooo…”

Husk: “What?”

Angel Dust: “You didn’t.”

Charlie: “I didn’t mean to!”

Husk: “What the fuck did she do?”

Charlie: “It was- the sugar! My hands were shaking- I was frustrated! And really really distracted!!”

Angel Dust: “HOW could you!? I TOLD ya-!”

Charlie: (on her knees) (wailing) “And I FORGOT!!!”

Husk: “You know what? Fuck it. I don’t wanna fucking know.” (heads back to the cake)

[atoriid]

There’s a thief among us

-flash fic-

summary: Half of your closet has been missing…who could it possibly be?

incl.: Hint of established relationship, pet names, crack, implied male reader, but could be viewed as gender neutral reader, time stamp!: before shit went down bad

pairing/s: Gojo Satoru x male reader, Gojo Satoru x gn reader

warning/s: none

note: it was supposed to be a smol drabble but uh it got too long for that whoop!

It seems like there’s a thief in the dorms. The evidence was indisputable, seeing as almost half of your closet is empty. You searched through your hanged clothing looking for your uniforms. !!!Multiple sets, gone!!!

“What the heck-” You began to rummage through your drawers. “What?”

Your drawers were also half empty. “Even the underwear drawer?!”

“What the hell is going on??” You scratched your head trying to remember if you recently did your laundry and forgot to fetch it? You looked all over your room, examining every corner anywhere your clothes could’ve ended up at.

None

“Well damn…” You breathe out a defeated sigh, hands in a praying position. “Yaga-sensei, I am extremely sorry in advance.”

.

.

.

You ran into Geto on your way to your classroom, he raised a questioning eyebrow, looking at you up and down. “Dude, why are you-”

“Not in uniform?” Your eyes reflected someone who’s clearly defeated. “Geto…I think there’s a thief in our midst.”

“Ha?” You placed your hand on his shoulder for dramatic effect.

“Gege, half of my closet is missing.” To your irritation, Geto burst out laughing. “Geto Suguru! I’m serious! Half of my closet’s missing!”

The bitch continued to laugh. “Geto! Stop it! I’m miserable here!”

Geto shook his head, amused by your misery. “Fine, fine, it is so unfortunate your clothes are gone.”

You glared at him, suspicion clear on your face. “You know something…”

“Dude, you're the only one that’s in the dark.” He snickered as he slid open the classroom door.

“Whad ya meannn??” You followed him inside and then closed the door; at first, you only saw Shoko sitting in her chair reading some magazine. “Shoko! Be careful, some pervert took my clothes! Even my underwear!”

“Oh? How unfortunate…” She nonchalantly flipped a page.

“Shoks! Not you too!”

Sighing, Shoko took her eyes off her magazine and pointed to the side. “Do yourself a favour and look over at Gojo.”

“Huh?” Confused, you slowly looked at the direction. Lo and behold, the one and only Gojo Satoru animatedly talking to Geto…wearing your uniform.

“Gojo Satoru!” He jumped from his seat before cheekily looking at you. Geto, knowing what’s about to happen backed off.

“Yesh~?” You power walked to him. Satoru couldn’t help but gulp, not because he’s scared-oh no no, he’s the strongest; he ain’t scared of anything. He found your angry face quite hot.

You slammed one hand on his desk, roughly pulling on the collar of your uniform that is currently being worn by the Satoru. “Mind telling me what you're doing with my uniform?”

He nervously chuckled, “I dunno what you mean, handsome.”

Your grip tightened; Satoru wished it was his neck instead.

“Give me my uniform, Toru.” The gall of this boy to stick his tongue out at you. “Toru! If Yaga-sensei sees me like this, he’s gonna have my head on a stick!”

“Not my problem, pretty boy.” Having none of it, you swiftly tried to unbutton the shirt. He theatrically crossed his arms holding onto his shoulders, swinging side to side. “Ah! Yamete kudasai! Take me out on a date first!”

“I already did, you doofus!” Satoru shrieked and started to playfully slap your hands away as you tried to slide the sleeves off him.

“Not in front of Shoko and Suguru babe!”

Before you could yell back, the classroom door slammed open. “Gojo Satoru! Y/n L/n! What the hell is going on?! L/n, stop undressing Gojo!”

word count: 578

☆masterlist☆