#he then says 'is it like fucking killing someone? just a feeling of relief?'

[obihoe]

freakazoids reunited lol

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“I think we should break up.” Simons words were like a ton of bricks, nearly taking the wind out of you. He stated it so plainly, without any hesitation that it had your entire world spinning.

“Wait, what?” You asked, struggling to blink away the hot tears that were threatening to fall. “Simon, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His eyes landed anywhere but you, a trick you knew he had in order to keep his composure. There was something more he wasn’t telling you.

“But why? What’s changed?” Your voice was quivering now, praying the man you loved so dearly would just look at you. “Simon, what’s going on?”

Simon said nothing, his eyes glued to the floor as he tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t look at you. He knew if he did, he’d go back on his word.

“Simon Riley, you answer me right now.” Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now as you were no longer able to keep your composure. “Simon!”

“I don’t deserve you alright?” Simon finally looked up at you, the harshness in his tone causing you to flinch. “For fuck sakes, I don’t. You are everything I’m not. You’re gentle, you’re kind. You care about everyone so selflessly, and you deserve someone who can be on that level with you.”

“Si.”

“No.” Simon cut you off before you could speak, his eyes flickering back to the floor. “I’m a broken shell of a man, Y/N. You deserve someone who can take you on dates. Someone who can bring you home to their family. Someone who you’re not waiting months on end for, wondering if they are even alive. You deserve anyone but me.”

You choked back a sob, the words of your lover causing your heart to shatter. Is this truly how he felt? Had you failed as a partner to make him feel that he is worthy of love?

“I got my family killed. My best friend died because I wasn’t there fast enough. Everywhere I go, death follows me.” Simon continued. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.

“Look at me.” You spoke, your voice stern as you blinked away some of the tears. “Simon, look at me.”

Simon’s gaze lifted, and the sight of him caused your tears to flow down your cheeks once more. He was crying. His cheeks were blotched red, something you’d never once seen on him in the years you’d been together.

You took a step forward, slowly moving your hand to cup his cheek, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. “I don’t want, nor need anyone that’s not you.”

Simon blinked, clearing his throat to speak, but you cut him off. “You are the man that I want. You think you’re a broken shell of a man, but every single person on this planet is broken, in their own way. I want every part of you.

I want the late night phone calls when you’re on the other side of the world. I want the reunions when you come home, the feeling that I’ve finally got you back. I want the corny at home movie dates. I want the burnt dinners, the late night fast food runs. I want the man who so deeply cares about everyone but tries so hard to deny it. I want the man that would put his life on the line for anyone who he considers a friend. I want the dry humor, I want the witty remarks. Simon, I want you. Always.”

Simon’s tears now flowed freely down his cheeks, his lips quivering as he struggled with what to say. His arms wrapped around your torso, holding you tightly to him as a sob wracked his body. “I fucking love you, Y/N. I don’t deserve you but gods I’ll fucking try to.”

Little did he know, he never had to. You’ve loved him from the moment you met him.

[mysterycitrus]

[a roy pov companion snippet to persephone part two]

There was a time, just after his father’s death, when Roy would fall into fits of choking suffocation.

His throat would close, his mouth turning itchy and hot and tight and he’d gasp and claw at his own flesh, desperate for air. Wheezing, bent over on all fours, struggling to breathe and desperate for relief, swallowing around that phantom smoke in his lungs that clung to him and refused to leave.

Brave Bow would find him in the dirt, press a calloused hand to his forehead and brush his hair from his eyes. He’d had the same hands as Roy’s father, then – steady from years fletching arrows.

Calm, boy, he’d say. The fire is gone, and you remain. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

It’d taken years before Roy felt it again, crouched with a needle in his arm and Oliver Queen’s shadow casting him in darkness. That same, encompassing squeeze that pushed his organs taut against his bones, stretched like taffy and drawing all air from his body. It’d been Dinah there with him, that time. Different callouses, with that same tender gentleness.

Then, Jade. Lian. Ollie. Donna. His comfort changed shape, and he learnt to drag himself out of the fire by himself, breathing around the fist in his mouth. The feeling became familiar, and so did the way it would leave him trembling and skittish. In and out. Inhale, exhale. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

Now, he’s sitting on a rooftop in Queens, and the smoke has returned to drown his best friend, because Dick Grayson believes there is evil in him. That all the good he’s done is poisonous. That he bears the burden of a grown man’s mistakes. Because – because Bruce Wayne couldn’t let one good fucking thing in the world lie.

He carries through the motions, watching himself from outside his own body as Dick thrashes, refuses to breathe until Donna physically compresses his lungs for him, forcing him to inhale. His heart is beating so fast it’s as if it’s not beating at all.

Never in his life has Roy wanted to kill someone more.

Donna is staring bullets into the side of his head as they descend into Dick’s apartment, holding him with a tight grip. Dick, younger Dick, seventeen-year-old hurt and miserable and alone Dick, stays silent but his eyes flutter like he’s about to pass out. The bruise on his face has only darkened in the hours since they left Jason Todd’s apartment, and the yellow spots on his cheekbone have started to purple. The bags beneath his eyes are deep.

How did I never notice he was like this? Roy thinks, half incredulous at himself. How did we let this happen that first time?

There was an answer, but it was for an older Dick who still carried all his cards to his chest. Would they be forgiven when that Dick found out what they knew about him? How they knew him now, better than they had before?

Garth, bless him, is holding a performatively casual pose as they gently push Dick through the open window. The soup is in a bowl – the slightly misshapen one that’d been Damian’s first try with a kiln – and Garth looks at him, then the soup, and pivots to start the kettle instead. What Dick really needs is solids, and maybe some protein, Roy knows, but the chances of him just throwing it back up again are high.

“Garth,” Roy says, and Garth turns those big, glistening eyes at him. It’s like staring into a lava lamp. “I’m sorry, but nobody wants any fucking soup.” Then he risks putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders – the kid doesn’t flinch, thank God – and says: “You, stay there. I need to go put my head in the shower.”

He presses down gently until Dick sits on the couch, carefully avoiding Donna’s gaze as she tries to catch his eye and rubs his hands over his face. Inhale, exhale. The smoke thickens, twists, chokes. Roy tilts a little but manages to regain his balance, and passes Donna as she goes to Garth, still fretting in the kitchen. Trusting, finally, that Dick wasn’t going to bolt right this second, he walks out towards the bathroom and immediately collides with Wally.

Wally’s still buzzing a little, and the hairs on Roy’s arms stand on end as he’s zapped when Wally grabs his elbows to hold him upright. There’s a deep line between his eyebrows, but when he looks up over Roy’s shoulders at Dick, his face goes slack. This worked out, actually. It’d keep help keep them both occupied to talk out their feelings, until Roy could get back in control of himself.

“Easy, fleetfeet,” Roy says. “Babysit for a second, would you? I need to wash my face.”

“I thought we decided we didn’t want him to run,” Wally hisses back, but Roy just gives him a shove in the couch’s general direction and staggers down the hall.

He hears Wally move forward as he manages to kick the door shut, falling against it as he starts to gasp. Roy presses his head back against the tiles, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately inhaling in through his nose and out his mouth. His throat itches. A throbbing pain starts at his temple, beating with his heart and radiating to his jaw and neck and shoulders until he tenses into a spasm.

In, out. Breathe, hold, release. Roy manages to swallow, but the noise he makes sounds like a sob, and he fumbles with the faucet until he can trust that the water is drowning him out. Again, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Everything feels ready to snap.

He got through it that first time, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Connor’s patient grace. Remember? He’s still here, just the same.

But this is so much worse, Roy replies internally. Can’t you see? Because now he knows it’s not gonna end. It’ll never end.

No. This is too much.

The first time he grabs at his phone, it falls from his trembling fingers and lands on the floor with a crack. It takes him one, two more tries to retrieve it, and instead of standing he folds himself onto the floor, sat pressed against the wall next to the basin. The blue light makes his eyes sting and seeing Lian smiling back just makes that rolling nausea return, thinking of a young Dick Grayson stare at his daughter in wonder. Eight years old, like Dick’s own father hadn’t fallen when Dick was that age. Like Dick had lost a father all over again a decade later. It hurts so bad.

Thankfully, when he swipes through his speed dial, she answers.

“You’re late with an update, boyo.”

For a moment, he can’t even get the words out, just audibly breathes into the receiver with his eyes shut and his free hand twisted into his hair.

“Roy? What happened? Is Dick alright?”

He has to swallow around the lump in his throat again.

“Is Lian there?” Roy manages to get out in a croak. He truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if Mia’s taken her to MOMA or something. Maybe permanently move into Dick’s bathroom. “She free to talk?”

“Sure.” He hears Dinah move and begin to walk. She’s calm, but her steps are quick and loud down the line. “Give me an answer, Roy. If you want to talk to her because you’re bleeding out-“

“No, no,” Roy says. “No, it’s just – it’s been a long day.”

It’s only about twelve pm, but Dinah doesn’t comment on it. He hears a door open, then shut. His heartrate picks up again.

“Dinah,” he says, and he hears her stop. “Dinah.”

She knows, clearly.

“He’s seventeen, Dinah.”

“Yeah, Babs said.” A pause. “Seventeen, huh?”

“He’s…” Roy stops, tugs at his hair a little. “I can’t tell you –he’s been saying-”

“You were all kids. You know that right? The stuff you were doing wasn’t normal, in retrospect. Makes sense he’d freak you out.”

But it’s not just that. It was the casual acceptance of baiting Deathstroke. Dick’s conviction of his own fault about losing Robin. His terror of confronting Bruce. The profound, absolute loss of everything. Dick Grayson lost his father at eight years old.

Roy can’t reply to that, really, so Dinah says:

“Here she is.”

There’s a shuffle, another pause, then –

“Daddy?”

The tension leaves his body so fast he almost drops the phone entirely, and his legs properly unfold into a sprawl.

“Hey, princess.”

“You okay?” Her voice raises in pitch slightly, like when she’s getting nervous. He’d put a lot of effort into stopping her from sounding like that, so it’s jarring now. “Dinah said… Dinah said-“

“I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to check that Mia wasn’t buying you more Legos from the giftshop with my card.”

“They were mermaid Legos,” Lian tells him, worry gone entirely and now a little huffy. “And Mia said – Mia said you were a landlord. And could buy them.”

“Daddy is not a gazillionaire like Batman.”

“Does Batman have Legos in the Batcave?”

Batman has bloodied memorabilia of all the people he’s let down, Roy thinks privately, but says instead:

“No, but he has a dinosaur.”

“A real one?”

“No. It’s like the one’s out of Jurassic Park. A robot dinosaur.”

“A robot dinosaur,” Lian says rapturously. “Can we visit sometime? With Uncle Dick?”

I am never letting either of you near him ever again, is the correct answer, as much as Dick would throw a fit over it. Roy clears his throat, rubs at his eyes, and changes the subject.

“Maybe. But I want a school update. I didn’t get to talk to you about it, yesterday.”

“Well,” she stops, and he can hear her think it over. “I’m better at spelling than Cassidy, because she always forgets her ayches. But I taught her a trick for it. I can teach you too!”

My best friend was only eight, he thinks.

“Yeah, baby,” he says in a hoarse voice, and tilts back his head. “Tell me all about it.”

[etfrin]

Feral

warning - NSFW (p in v sex, no prep, nonconsensual somnophilia but reader wakes up and she is okay with it so does it count? IDK. Ethan is kinda rough, mentions of blood and murder, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie)

Ghostface! Ethan Landry x female!reader

summary: Ethan was bragging about you to his latest kill but then they say that one you will leave him and that makes him fucking feral.

- - -

It wasn't new for Ethan crawling through your window after a kill. There's nothing more comforting than having your body heat beside him after he left someone bloodless and cold. He loved cuddling after a kill. Ironic? But who cares? He didn't. You certainly didn't.

Today was something different however, his heart was pumping the adrenaline of a kill in his veins but he didn't feel at peace like he did. He felt annoyed, angry, and overwhelmed. His victim's words got to him.

That you would leave. His lovely dear girlfriend who accepted him the moment he revealed the truth to you. You didn't care that he was a murderer. All that matters to you is that he was still Ethan.

He crawls to your bed beside you. You were asleep. He had cleaned up after the kill, and freshly showered. His clean scent mixed up with the slightest hint of sweat coming from you. Your back was to his chest, his nose buried into your hair, trying to breathe you in. Trying to find solace in your presence.

"You can't leave," he whispers in the dark. "You can't leave me," he growls, growing agitated by the second. His hand goes down your thigh, you wore shorts. He slips them off. His hand finds his destination in your pussy. He rubs his palm against it. Once, twice. He was still mumbling about the fact that you can't leave him. You can't, you can't, you can't.

God, he felt like he was going insane. He takes his cock out. He spits on his palm and rubs it on his cock before he does the same with your cunt. Spreading makeshift lube onto your folds.

He doesn't hesitate a second as he pushes the tip of his dick into your familiar heat. He lets out a groan from the feeling. You were dry, he wondered for a moment if you could grow as wet and slick as you usually are for him while asleep.

He takes the tip out, his jaw clenching from the loss of not being inside you. He pins you down underneath him. Moving you like a puppet. A pretty one. He raises the t-shirt you are wearing to expose your breasts. He doesn't play with them much, wanting to get to the main course. He kisses the nipples before he moves between your thighs.

He breathes into the familiar scent of you and spits onto your folds. After doing so multiple times, he spreads it all over your cunt. Getting it slick. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles. He could feel your thighs tense.

No, no, that wouldn't do, he thinks. He wanted you to wake up while he was buried deep within you. Marking you. He immediately stops his actions. He didn't bother prepping you in fear that you might wake you.

You're his love, of course, you wouldn't mind taking his cock without any prep. You can do it.

He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke. He bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed so he can stop his groan. Every time felt like the first time for him. He lets himself adjust to the warmth gripping his cock like a vice. His hands are on either side of you and his forehead is pressed against yours.

He gives you a small kiss before his hips begin to grind. Inch by inch so he could stretch you out properly. His head falls between the crook on your neck, one of his hands now on your throat. He wasn't squeezing it, but it was just there. His fingertips feel your pulse.

It filled with him relief. You're here, you're alive and you're his. He doesn't stop his sounds anymore, his thrusts having no pace just chasing whatever made him feel good. He could feel your pulse starting to get faster, your walls squeezing. You were up. He grins, "Darling?"

"Ethan," you moan, your hand going to his hair, fingers into his locks. He pressed a kiss on your ear. "You're awake," he whispers. "Uh huh," you whine, your walls twitching.

"You won't leave me right?" He questions, his eyes peering at your wide ones. "Huh?" You replied back. Unable to think about anything but his cock.

He could feel annoyance creeping in about the fact you didn't reply yes immediately. The hand around your throat tightened, just a bit. Just enough for a feel.

"You," he hisses with a deep thrust, hard enough to rock the bed. He said, "Won't," thrust, "Leave," thrust, "Me," thrust, "Right?" thrust.

You could find yourself nodding, your walls pulsing around his cock near your release. He chuckles, "Good. Because the only way you could leave is when I decide to kill you, my love."

Fuck. His words make your eyes roll back and cum. Your walls spasming, milking his cock just the way he liked. With a grunt, he spills into you. Thick white ropes of cum being fucked inside of you until he slips out.

He lays beside you, his body flushed red. "One of the victims was mean today," he pouts. After you managed to catch your breath, you replied, "Who cares? That fuck is dead." You pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You're the one here right now, alive." You whispered.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"i wanna Be Cool, but only if you want me to."

"want to impress you"

synopsis// everyone knows that basketball is the way to someone's heart.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 3.8k

contents// college au, basketball au, mutual unknown pining?, friends to lovers?, gojo is a loser, obligatory this is for you and misses

notes// lu wanted a basketball au so lu gets a basketball au. also obviously inspired by the basketball scene in jjk s2 anywho this is just kinda short n goofy :p also inspired by the song i wanna be cool by super whatevr. also i have no idea how basketball works and only ever played for fun so ermmm if anything is wrong bring that up with the universe !

Shoko unwillingly finds herself sitting on a random bench in the boys locker room, her arms crossed as she glares at the two boys in front of her.

“Why did you guys drag me in here?”

Geto speaks up first: “In my defense, this is all on Satoru, and I have no part in this.”

“You still dragged me in here, did you not?”

“…Yes.” 

“Then you took part in it.”

Gojo smiles as he smacks Geto on the back. “Exactly! You’re my accomplice.”

Shoko rolls her eyes. “Again, why did you guys drag me in here?”

“A presentation!”

“A presentation I have nothing to do with,” Geto chimes in as he takes a seat beside Shoko.

She briefly raises her eyebrow at Geto before directing it toward Gojo. “A presentation?” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t see a projector or anything worth presenting here,” she says, looking around the room unamused.

“A presentation minus the actual presenting part...”

“So you dragged me in here just to talk to me?”

Geto leans in and whispers, “He actually wants to ask you something.”

Gojo stomps his foot like he’s about to throw a tantrum. “Geto shut up!”

“Can you just hurry up, Gojo?" She asks impatiently. “It reeks of axe body spray in here; I think it might actually kill me.”

He ignores her dramatics because, honestly, she’s not wrong. “You're coming to our game tonight, right?”

“I mean, yeah? Who isn't? It's the biggest game of the season.”

Geto adds, “That's what I said!”

“Do you know if Y/N is going?”

“Is that what you seriously dragged me in here for? Why didn't you just ask Y/N themself? You guys are friends, are you not?”

“Well yeah!” Gojo mumbles sheepishly, “But when I asked, they said maybe...”

“That means no,” Geto says quickly through a cough, as if trying to cover it up.

Gojo hears anyway and outstretches his arms toward Geto as if trying to draw attention toward him. “Exactly!” He then brings his hands in front of his face in a praying motion and begs, “Shoko, please!”

“Oh my fucking god, I don't know why you don't just ask them out already.”

“That's what I'm trying to do! But in order to do that, I kinda need them to go to tonight's game.”

Shoko glares at Gojo for what feels like forever, and Gojo glares back like they’ve suddenly entered a staring contest, and it’s Shoko who breaks eye contact first.

She sighs and pushes the hair out of her face as she mumbles, “God, you're lucky I'm tired of both of you pining after each other.”

“Thank you, Shoko!” he beams. “Also here.”

Shoko takes whatever Gojo is handing her and holds it up, her eyes slightly wide as she inspects it. “…Is this your jersey?”

He nods, fully confident within himself now that Shoko has agreed to drag you to the game, but tilts his head at her because he has no idea why she’s confused. “Yeah, I want them to wear it?” 

“You make me sick to my stomach, fine.”

“Shoko, do you wanna wear my jersey?” Geto suddenly asks.

She stares at him blankly, as if to ask if he really asked her that, knowing damn well she does not like him like that and she has a girlfriend, though after a few moments he finally gets the hint.

“Oh my god, not like that; I just want someone supporting me too.”

She sighs in relief, “Oh, thank god, don’t scare me like that, but yeah, fine, I’ll wear it.”

“Wait, what the hell?” Gojo exclaims, drawing Shoko’s and Geto’s attention back to him. “Shoko, would you have worn mine if I asked?”

“No.”

“What?! Why the hell not?”

“I like Geto more than I like you.”

He glares at her and quickly points out, “You're lying; if that was true, you wouldn't be helping me!”

Shoko simply shrugs and mumbles a small “bye” before getting up and leaving.

Geto stands up and takes his place next to Gojo, softly patting his back as he whispers, “Dare I say this ends our lifelong debate on who's superior?”

Gojo shrugs his hand off of him and speaks harshly through clenched teeth, “Shut. Your. Mouth.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“Why would I want to go watch a bunch of sweaty men fight over balls?” You mumble offhandedly, focusing your attention on netflix playing on your phone rather than on her.

“Ok, Y/N, first of all, there's only one ball, and second of all, did you forget Gojo is on the basketball team?”

You quickly turn off your phone and sit up, clasping your hands together in your lap. “….Have I ever mentioned that basketball is actually my favorite sport?”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters under her breath, pinching her nose bridge. “You're so obvious; why haven't you told him yet?”

“Are you insane? Gojo is hot, and on the basketball team, do you know how many people he already has crushing on him? I'm literally just another name on that list.”

“Sure,” she nods, “But the difference is that you're his friend too; you have more of a chance than anyone else.”

You sigh and frown at her. “Doubt.”

Shoko shakes her head, knowing that you two could spend all day here in your dorm debating whether you have a chance or not, but that’s not what she’s here for, so she’ll let you believe what you want, knowing that (hopefully) Gojo pulling whatever it is he wants to pull will prove you wrong.

“Whatever, put this on,” she says, throwing the jersey at you.

You catch it, your mouth slightly agape as you stare at it curiously. “…Isn't this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, is it?”

“Shoko.”

“Can you just trust me?”

“I'm literally just gonna look like another one of his groupies," you say, disdain and disappointment lacing your words as your eyes dart back and forth between her and the jersey.

She smiles, and it’s off-putting because it’s not her normal smile; no, you know, this is the smile she only wears when she’s about to drop a bomb on you. “Difference is that that's his actual jersey.”

You freeze.

“What?”

“I’ll save you a seat. Bye,” she says as she walks out of your dorm.

The slam of your door restarts your heart, and suddenly it and your mind are racing at 100 miles per hour, and the only thing you can do is word vomit despite the fact that Shoko is gone.

“What do you mean by that?! What do you mean this is his actual jersey?!” You run and fling open your door to yell out into the hallway, “Get back here!?” 

Shoko is a good bit away at this point, but she still hears you call out for her and acknowledges that with a wave, yet she still keeps walking away, and you're stuck in your doorway with your chest heaving. You look back down at the jersey in your hands.

Holy shit.

Not only is this a jersey with Gojo’s number on it, but it’s his jersey. How did Shoko even get this? Did she just take it without him knowing? Too many thoughts are in your head, but there’s only one that keeps overlapping the others, there’s only one that’s consistent, only one that electrifies every neuron in your body:

Holy shit, this is Gojo’s jersey.

Fuck the questions and fuck the answers you know you won’t get; the only thing that matters to you right now is that you have and are about to wear Gojo’s jersey. You have to be dreaming; really, that’s the only logical answer, but holy fuck, if you’re dreaming, you do not plan on waking up anytime soon—or ever.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The two teams quickly start filling up the court and taking up their respective spaces as they warm up, but Gojo, being Gojo, isn't doing that. Instead, he’s standing on the sidelines, looking in at the crowd of people starting to take their seats for the game, and his heart is racing as he searches the crowd for you, and it drops when he inevitably doesn’t find you, but he’s not discouraged, not yet at least, because the game hasn’t officially even started yet, so there’s still time for you to show up.

There’s still time.

He has to keep reminding himself that the whole time he’s warming up—now that he’s actually being forced to, though it’s a half-assed warm-up—he and his coach don’t even know whether what he’s doing could be considered a warm-up in the first place. The game is about to start any second now when Geto approaches Gojo.

“Nothing?” 

Gojo’s head drops as he reluctantly shakes it.

Geto hums and searches the stands for you, but when he doesn't find you either, he tries to find the next best person, Shoko, and it's quite easy to find her considering she’s wearing Geto's jersey.

“Shoko!”

She looks down from the bleachers and sees Geto staring at her as he gestures toward Gojo, and she knows he's trying to ask where you are, but in all honesty, she has no idea either. She shrugs, and even from as high up as she is, she can hear Geto groan before grabbing Gojo by the shoulders and forcing him to look at him.

“I'm sure they’ll come, dude.”

Gojo blankly stares at Geto, an eyebrow raised skeptically, as if to say, really? but before he can verbally reply, their coach comes over and removes Geto’s hand from Gojo’s shoulder to place his own hand there.

“I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, fix it.”

Geto and Gojo tense up at his tone, full of nothing but pure determination. This isn't him asking; this is him demanding that Gojo get his shit together.

“This is the biggest game yet, and I'm not gonna let you and some petty college drama get in the way of that. You're our best player. Act like it.”

Gojo can only nod. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and it's like his throat is closing, but he tries to will the feeling away. Though his reaction is enough for his coach, who starts walking off.

Geto stares up at Gojo with his eyebrows knit, concern lacing his voice, “Gojo...”

Gojo shakes his head and takes a deep breath before flashing Geto his signature smile. “I'm fine, Geto; cmon, we got a basketball game to win.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To be totally honest, the reason you were running so late to the game was because you were mentally shitting your pants the entire time you were getting ready. For a good chunk of time, you just sat on your bed with the jersey laid out in front of you, staring at it. Just staring at it, that's all. Because yes, even though you said fuck the questions and fuck the answers, you very much could not do that, not when too many questions and unknown answers were flooding your brain like a dam had cracked. You think you probably would've stayed like that all day and night, missing the game entirely, if not for Shoko spam calling your phone.

“What?”

“Don't 'what' me, where the fuck are you?” She snaps through the phone.

“Uh, getting ready?”

“Y/N, the game started twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh shit,” you say, hopping off your bed and quickly grabbing the jersey.

“Yeah, oh shit! Get your ass down here!”

You don't bother saying goodbye; instead, you quickly hang up, throw the jersey on as fast as you can, and bolt out the door. The halls are empty as you race through them, and you're not surprised; everyone is already at the game—everyone but you—and you speed up your pace just a smidge more. God, you're an idiot, missing the best game of the season—okay, you don't actually care about that. God, you're an idiot, missing seeing Gojo and maybe getting answers on how Shoko obtained his jersey—that's better.

You get to the gym in record time, slightly surprised at how quickly you got there, but you ignore that as you try to catch your breath before walking in and try to prepare yourself for the amount of noise that will assault your ears when you do. You can already hear how loud it is; the walls not doing very much at all to muffle the yells of people. You walk in and wince slightly at the noise as you look around for Shoko. She immediately finds you and waves her hand in the air for you to find, as does Utahime, who's sitting next to her. You smile and quickly make your way toward them, apologizing to the people you pushed through to get to them in the first place. You take your seat next to Shoko with a sigh.

“What did I miss?” you ask, leaning forward slightly just so you can look at both Utahime and Shoko.

Utahime has a small grimace on her face, and Shoko merely motions toward the scoreboard, and the minute you look, your jaw drops. Gojo’s team was losing. No. Losing isn't even the right word here; they were getting absolutely destroyed. They had zero points—none at all. You look back toward the two girls in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

“Gojo is literally sucking so much ass that it's throwing everyone else off,” Utahime says with a shrug before glancing down at your clothes. “Are you wearing his jersey?”

You clear your throat awkwardly and look away, ignoring the smirk on Shoko's face.

“So, uh, do we know why Gojo’s sucking ass?” You ask after a brief moment of silence.

“Nope,” Utahime responds with a shake of her head.

“I do,” Shoko says nonchalantly.

Your head snaps back toward her. “What? Why?”

“Yeah, you didn't tell me either!”

Shoko rolls her eyes and ignores both of you as she loudly calls out to Gojo, who, by some grace of god, hears her over the hundreds of other people yelling for him. Gojo’s eyes immediately find hers, and he watches how she subtly jerks her head to the side, and like some angel descended from the heavens, like a god showing itself in a moment of dire, he looks and finds you sitting there in his jersey, and he can't help the smile on his face, can't help how just your presence lit a fire underneath him, can't help how just seeing you gave him his pep back in his step.

Gojo finds Geto’s eyes on the court and nods determinedly. They are winning this game, whether it's the last thing Gojo does. He's not going to look like a fool in front of you. So that's exactly what Gojo does. Once the second period starts, Gojo steals back the ball with a new sudden ease, and by halftime, he’s gotten the team caught up to the other one, starting the third period with a tie.

“How the hell did he do that? I thought you guys said he sucked!”

“Aw man, I was rooting for the other team,” Utahime says, frowning, and you have to resist the urge to chew her out in defense of Gojo.

Shoko shrugs. “He was till you know…”

You stare at her blankly. “No, I don't know, actually. Care to enlighten me?”

“No, I do not,” she says before turning to Utahime. “And don't worry, they're only tied; there's still a chance the other team will win.”

Utahime cheerfully hums as she rests her head on Shoko’s shoulder. “You’re right!”

“Don't encourage her to root for the other team?!” 

Utahime sticks her tongue out at you, and before any of you can say anything else, a loud buzzer rings across the gym, indicating a point was made, and to your delight, it was for Gojo’s team. For the rest of the third period, it was just buzzer after buzzer as Gojo’s team took back their rightful place on the scoreboard, completely smashing the other team into the ground, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. Watching Gojo in his element was doing detrimental things to your crush on him, only making it worse, but you can't even seem to care. Shoko looks over to you and laughs.

“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes.”

You scoff. “Shut up!”

Down on the court, they had just started their last two-minute break between third and fourth period, with the coaches gathering their respective teams into a huddle.

“Alright guys,” Gojo’s coach began, “Keep your heads in the game; we’re taking this victory home, got it?”

All the boys nod hurriedly, and the coach leaves them to do what they need to before the last period starts, but Gojo doesn’t let them get far.

“Whatever fucking happens, I'm getting that last score, got it?”

Everyone on the team exchanges uneasy glances, and Geto rolls his eyes and sighs before apologizing for Gojo.

“He just has a plan and wants to do something, guys.”

The boys nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“If you guys mess this up for me, I swear to god, I will make you wish you were never born,” Gojo says with his usual smile, but in this case, all his smile does is make him seem feral.

Geto slaps Gojo across the back of his head and huffs, “He doesn’t mean that, don't worry.”

“Oh, I fucking mean it.”

“Gojo, shut the fuck up.”

Before anyone else can say anything, the timer goes off, and into the last minutes of the game they go. As the game goes on, everyone is on the edge of their seat, even if deep down they know who will win. You and Utahime are no exception to this, but apparently Shoko is.

“Why the fuck are you guys on the edge of your seats? It's obvious we’re gonna win.”

You go to glare at her but can’t even hold your stare long enough because you're so enthralled by the game. “Still, it's so nervewracking!”

Utahime laughs. “I'm only on the edge of my seat because I want the other team to win.”

“Why are you such a hater, dude?” you ask defensively.

Utahime doesn’t mind; she knows all too well about your little crush on Gojo, so she doesn’t take offense to your tone. “When it comes to Gojo, I'm always a hater.”

You finally find it in you to glare at her. “I hope Shoko breaks up with you.”

She rolls her eyes and glares back. “Oh, haha, you're so mature.”

You say nothing but stick your tongue out at her childishly, and she does the same, to which Shoko groans and rolls her eyes before grabbing both of your heads and turning them to face the game.

“You can fight after the game; there's only a few seconds left.”

Gojo glances at the time and realizes it’s now or never. He finds that Geto has the ball and calls out for him. Geto, on the other hand, hesitates to pass him the ball, with a look on his face asking if he really wants to do this, and Gojo can only nod. How could he not want to do this? This is the only thing he can do; it's not like he knows how to ask someone out the normal way, so this will do; it has to. Gojo tries to control his breathing as he makes his way to the hoop, the ball dribbling in tune with his heartbeat, and nothing matters to him in that moment except you and scoring—his surroundings completely drowning out. Everyone holds their breath waiting for him to shoot, and right before he does, his eyes lock onto yours.

“This is for you, Y/N!” He yells out as he shoots, and…

And he misses.

Horribly.

And there's no chance for him to redeem himself because the minute the ball hits the ground, the buzzer goes off, indicating the end of the game, and everyone seemingly ignores whatever the fuck he just did and erupts into an uproar at the fact that they won regardless of Gojo’s miss.

“What-“

Shoko slaps a hand over her mouth, attempting and failing to hold in her laughter. “Did he just fucking miss?”

Utahime is hunched over, her head between her knees, laughing. “Oh my fucking god, he's an idiot!”

You blink, not moving, not saying anything, but with how hard Shoko is laughing and Utahime leaning against her as she laughs as well, Shoko ends up bumping into you, and she instantly grows quiet, her head snapping toward you.

“Oh, why are you still here?”

“Huh?” 

"Why aren’t you down there?” she asks, pointing down to the court.

“Am… Am I supposed to be?”

“Uh duh!” Utahime speaks up, peeking out from behind Shoko. “He made that shot for you! Well, he missed that shot for you.”

“Oh,” you say blankly. “Oh. Oh shit.”

You stood up abruptly, and with how fast you went down the bleachers, you almost tripped once you made it onto the ground. You quickly catch yourself, and the moment you look up to find Gojo, he’s already standing right in front of you.

“You're-you're wearing my jersey,” he says breathlessly, but not in a I-can’t-breathe way, more in a holy-shit-my-crush-is-actually-wearing-my-jersey way.

You swallow thickly and nod. Your gaze flickers down to the jersey before going back to his face. “I am.” 

“You are.” 

“What was that Gojo?”

He seems to grimace at your question. “Ah, well, you see, I was actually gonna say if I make this, you owe me a date, but that’s a really long sentence to shout, and what if I didn’t make it? That would’ve been so embarrassing.”

You laugh under your breath. “Gojo, you didn’t make it regardless.”

He frowns. “Don’t remind me.”

You smile and push a strand of hair stuck to his forehead out of the way, watching how he blushes furiously at your touch, and it makes your heart swoon. Who knew the confident number-one basketball player could crumble so readily under your touch?

“You know, I’m still more than happy to owe you a date.”

He smirks as he pulls you closer toward him by your waist and coos, “Yeah?"

“Yeah… But get the hell off of me, Gojo; you’re sweaty and you stink,” you grumble as you push against his chest, trying to free yourself.

Gojo ignores you and pulls you in closer (if even possible), his body engulfing yours as he rubs his face against yours, making sure his sweat rubs off on you too.

You struggle against his hold. “Gojo gross!” 

“Sorry, I can't hear you over the people. What are you saying? Hug you closer?”

“Gojo, don’t you dare.”

You hear him chuckle before rubbing up against you again, and you groan but stop resisting, which he hums happily at before starting to pull away. You watch how his face abruptly twists into feigned disgust.

"Ew, Y/N, get the hell off of me; you’re sweaty and you stink,” he mocks as he pushes you out of his hold.

“I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn’t be going on a date with me,” he singsongily says.

“Yeah, not anymore,” you mumble with a wry smile as you start walking away.

“Hey, wait, Y/N, come back!”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[popquizhot-shot]

absolutely obsessed with protective dad miguel omg, like if on a mission where a villains being a creep he would be so feral cause THAATS HIS DAUGHTER so joel coded

Hope you like this nonnie<3333 sorry if there’s any typos.

Tw: a creep. Panic attacks and feelings of inadequacy

"You know, of all the super-heroes I've fought, I'm going to enjoy defeating you the most." the villain grins and chokes you harder, his other hand travels down the side of your spidersuit and he pins you against a wall, "I think it's the suit."

"What is wrong with you dude?" you wheeze out.

He only punches you and his hand moves from your throat to your jaw, "Careful, girly. Or I might not be as merciful as I'm being right now."

You huff, "Yeah, sure. Okay.”

You only realise he’s being serious when his eyes turn animalistic and he grips your cheeks so your mouth is slightly open. That’s when you start to thrash around. Kicking everywhere and you manage to snag him in the balls and he doubles over.

You immediately break out into a run and let out a thwip of webs to swing above him.

Unbeknownst to you or the villain, Miguel O’Hara himself is swinging at full speed to that very alleyway because he was eyes on you.

The moment, he saw the villain acting the way he did, he decided one thing.

He was going to make him suffer.

The villain finally got to his feet and let out a breath and a groan.

He heard a sound behind him, from the dark of the alleyway and dared to turn around.

Two red eyes stared into his own.

He disappeared into the darkness as he was pulled in by garnet webs. The only thing that could be heard were shrieks of pain and the sound of bones being broken.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a snarl, “You will never touch anyone ever again.”

——————-

You were huddled in a corner of a balcony, hugging your knees as you replayed the memory over and over again. Every breath you took hurt and only quickened with each passing moment.

It’s not that serious you idiot what is wrong with you now he’s probably gotten away and Miguel is going to be pissed

You flinch at the sound of someone landing on the balcony. And you almost let out a sob in relief when you hear Miguel’s voice.

His head whips to where you are and his mask disintegrates. His eyes widen a little and he makes himself a bit smaller and says your name softly.

Your breathing slows a little as he breathes with you. Guiding you and his hand hesitantly brings your own away from where it’s holding your hair tightly.

“You’re okay.” His voice is soft and calm, “I’m here.”

With a hiccup you throw your hands around him, “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

“Hey.” He pats your back soothingly, “it’s okay. I got him. The mission is over.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” Your voice breaks against his shoulder and so does his heart.

“I don’t care.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Almost.”

You pull back to look into his eyes, “sorry.”

“Shut up.never apologise. No one hurts my kid and and gets away with it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious. Understand?” He cups your cheeks softly, and your face scrunches up as tears form, “oh babygirl.” He breathes out as you start to sob.

“I just.. don’t want to be a burden.” You wheeze out between sobs.

That’s when he understands it’s not just about that asshole.

“You’re not a burden, honey.” He says against your hair as you hug him again.

He shushes you as your sobs only grow.

“Hey. Hey.” He pulls you away gently to look you in the eyes, “look at me. You’re not a burden. You’re a valuable asset to this team and we’re all lucky to have you. If anyone of them even heard what you’re saying right now, they’d be shocked. And then they’d be mad. I know that this feeling won’t go away immediately, but for today, know that none of this is your fault.”

“But he could have gotten away.”

“But he didn’t.” He reassures you.

“I can’t screw up like this, Miguel.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He was being a fucking creep and you ran away. It’s alright. You’re human.” He says your name to make a point. “And that’s okay. Okay?”

You breathe heavily and nod.

“Good. Now? Do you want to takeout? We can watch Star Wars back at home.”

You flash him a small smile, “yes please.”

He smiles and takes your hand, “Come on.”

You hug him once again and shake your head against his shoulder.

“You just wiped your nose on me, didn’t you?”

“No, what are you talking about?”

You know that the suit is a hologram right?”

“So the snot is on your shoulder?”

“I swear to god.”

[iluvmorales]

The alleyway

summary Prowler!miles meets you, but not at the best time?

a/n send in requests! For any of the spiders or prowler!miles <3

word count ??

You don’t know why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to go on a walk at night, and in Brooklyn. Ever since the police captain was killed, the area, the city, and the people went to complete shit.

So now here you are, running through the alleyways, ducking left and right trying to get this group of grown men away from you and off your ass.

Were they after money? Your valuables? Or you? You didn’t even know because they didn’t say anything, just 5 men start fucking bolting at you with no warning.

You slid, practically drifting left and around a corner. You breathed out, after you’d been holding your breath for god knows how long while running.

“Why the fuck, these assholes..” you heard the footsteps coming closer and closer, knowing one had seen where you turned. You grabbed a plank that’d been thrown behind the dumpster and right when one was about to turn

Whack!

The board hit him dead center on his face, causing him to fall back and hit his head. He stopped moving thank god, but you assumed he was still alive.

“You bitch!” One launched at you, but you hit him with the board as well, only this time you weren’t as successful with knocking him onto the floor and out.

The prowler overheard the ruckus between the alleyway, and peered down from the top of the building. A girl, around his age trying her hardest to whack, possibly kill 4 men with a wooden plank. A wooden plank? What the fuck?

Obviously, to him she looked like she was doing alright seeing as how one was already unconscious and another was beaten bloody with a broken nose.

The prowler felt bad leaving you, but he had work to do and people to meet. He had no time to save some random girl in an alleyway.

“Ugh get a fucking life! Someone help!” You yelled to the men, then as loud as you could you asked for help.

Your arms were getting tired, your head was pounding and you were frustrated. Frustration quickly turned to pure fear when a man came from behind you and grabbed you, you elbowed him in his face, kicked and screamed.

Suddenly, the man fell to his knees and someone caught you before you hit the ground. You freaked out even more, still kicking and yelling.

“Chill out, I’m helping.” The distorted voice whispered, placing you down. Your knees were weak and you stumbled back watching him easily take out the guys one by one.

You let out a sigh of relief, back against the wall as you slowly slid down, your head falling into the palms of your hands. “Are you okay?” The “prowler” asked, stepping towards you.

Suddenly you remembered just who you were saved by and the unsafe feeling crept back. Quickly standing you replied; “yeah-yeah I’m good thank you. Even though I had the situation under control.” You cleared your throat and laughed, trying to lighten the mood and hide your fear.

“Aight, that’s good. You need me to walk you home? It’s not safe out here at night, if you haven’t noticed.” He spoke, the distorter gone. You could tell he was laughing at his own little joke and smiled. He was scary looking and had a dark aura, but his voice was so comforting.

“Yeah, please. That was lowkey kind of scary.” You say, walking out of the alley with the tall, dark prowler towering over you. Just his aura and looking alone scared off people, and you had him following behind like a guard dog.

Your house was kind of a long walk, and awkward silence was creeping up. “So, what’s ya’ name?” He asked, peering down but his head still tilted up. “Y/N..think i already know yours” you laughed a little, earning an un-seen grin but content a hum from the prowler.

“You know.. I thought you were a old man but lowkey, you sound kinda young” you called him out, looking back while walking then quickly turning back. “Let’s just say we’re around the same age” the prowler replied, shrugging off the indirect question.

Finally, the silence between the both of you was more comfortable. Enjoying the beauty and dangers of the neon-lit city, it’s graffiti and lights. You came to a stop in-front of a town house, turning back to the prowler.

“Thank you for everything, really.” You smiled at him, a genuine look in your eyes he had never received from anyone while in this suit. “Yeah it was no problem hermosa ..” he shrugged again, this time also shrugging off the heat that rose to his cheeks. You smiled as your cheeks got hot at the nickname, the way his voice was breathy and he rolled his r had you freaking out internally.

“Hope to see you around, without me being in danger that is” you laughed, walking up the steps and opening your door. “See you around” was all he could manage to say as he watched you walk up the steps and into your house.

He hummed to himself before walking into an alleyway and clawing his way up a building so he could easily jump roof to roof, on his way to meet his uncle.

“Y/N..” he whispered to himself, a smile across his lips.

[mxqdii]

colby brock x reader who gets really shy around him, stutters over her words and just goes red in the face. and colby like is conpletely oblivious on what he does to her.😭 n she hasnt told anyone about her feelings toward him but say sam or one of her friends confronts her ab it and she like just denys it n stuff, u can chose the end but id love it if it was like friends to lovers and extremely fluffy(:

like you like that - c.b

pairings: colby brock x reader

summary: confessing feelings to colby 🙈

warning(s): fluff, confessing feels, idk

not proofread

"can i talk to you?" the blonde boy says, interrupting me and colbys conversation

"sure.." i say, getting up from my spot on the couch, following sam into another room.

i've been living with sam and colby for a while now, katrina, sams girlfriend, lives here too, we all do, its fun.

i love living with my best friends, friends, we're all friends, i have to remember that, friends-

"y/n!" sam yells, snapping me out of my trance

"yeah- what, sorry." i say, looking up at him

"when the fuck are you gonna admit your feelings to colby?" he asks and i groan

"i have no idea what you're talking about sam, you and kat need to lay off about this" i whisper-yell

"are you guys good in there?" i hear colby say, opening the door

he leans on the doorframe and i feel all words leave my brain

"uh- y-yeah yeah! we're fine! just, go back to what you were doing!" i frantically ramble, pushing him out and closing the door

i shut it, leaning against it putting my head against it, a sigh leaving my lips in relief.

"i have no idea what you're talking about sam!" he mocks and i groan, i forgot he was in here

"okay, okay, fine." i put my hands up in defeat, waiting for him to explain how i can confess to my best friend, that i live with, without ruining things.

"listen, i've known colby for years, and i know he likes you, just tell him!" sam says and i whine

"no! telling him is scary, even if he does like me, he's gonna have to tell me himself."

--------

"im gonna go to the store, do any of you wanna come?" colby asks

"y/n will go" sam says and i glare at him, giving him a, 'i'm gonna kill you' look

"okay, you ready?" colby asks

"y-yeah! lets go." i say, almost running towards him.

we start heading for the door and i look back seeing kat and sam giggling, flipping them off before leaving.

colby opens the car door for me, also reaching over to buckle my seatbelt.

the drive was about 10 minutes, the first 5 minutes in the car being silent, the next 5 though? definitely not silent.

"can i ask you something?" he says and i slowly turn to look at him,

"yeah of course" i reply

"why are you always so nervous around me?" he asks and i feel my face go red

how the fuck do i go about this, ugh.

"i don't know" i say shyly

"i think you do baby" he says and i die on spot, what the fuck is happening

"i- fuck- i like you okay, and i'm sorry i just- i didn't wanna tell you because i know you don't like me back and i don't wanna make things awkward and-" i ramble, not knowing how to stop my train of thought.

"hey who said i didn't like you back, didn't sam literally tell you i liked you?" he asks

"oh.. yeah actually he did- wait how do you even know that?" i look over at him

"the walls are very thin baby"

i look down, embarrassed.

"hey, it's okay, for what its worth- i really like you too, a lot. and i'm stupid for not telling you sooner." he says

"really?" i say, looking back up at him

"yeah." he looks over at me

we hold eye contact for a while, then it stops.

the next thing i hear is sirens, feeling someones hands on me, coming in and out of conciousness.

then it hits me,

we were in a car crash.

TAGLIST: @opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @prettysturniolo @its-jennarose

A/N: you said it could end however i wanted it to!! lmk if u want part 2 😘😘

[tomhollandisabae]

jealous! Ghost, hehe

thank u for your request love 🥰🥰

masterlist

bets and jealousy- simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary; a bet placed on your name, soldier after soldier hitting on you a very very jealous ghost.

warnings; angst, fluff, mature language, mentions of sex, violence, english is not my first language, unedited

words; 1.3k

a/n; sorry for the delay, but that time of the month decided to visit me again. i'll try to answer to the rest of the request during this week.

It all went down when one of the soldier tried to hit on you, then many others followed…

You and simon had been in a secret relationship for almost one year now and somehow now had caught on yet, even though you weren't being so subtle.

That became an issue when soldier after soldier tried to ask you out, but you were turned every single one down.

However, you were also unaware of the bet that had been placed on you; whoever gets the girl, gets 200 bucks.

So, of course, there was not a single man that hadn't approached you – apart from soap, price, gaz and graves.

As for simon, the whole situation was getting quite enough on his nerves. It was an understatement to say that he wanted to rip every single men’s tongue, that talked to you, out of their mouth. It wasn't the fact that he didn't trust you, because he did – he trusted you with his life. It was the fact that he didn't trust those men. I mean, why would he? He didn't know them, he had never spoken to them… they could've been spies, people that tried to approach you so to kill you and so on.

Simon was always quite, never being one to make a fuss about something, but that all didn’t matter anymore when he heard about the so called ‘bet’. He became feral. The feeling of jealousy always growing on him and now this… it was his turning point.

He approached you as you were talking – trying to kindly avoid the guy that was hitting on you at the moment.

When you saw Ghost walking towards you looking quite angry, even with his mask on, you knew that things where about to go down real bad.

“Sim—” you tried to stop him, but it was too late as he had already pounced on the guy in front of you.

He threw him on the floor and started punching his face as you were shocked enough to react in any way.

“Simon! What the fuck? Stop it!” You yelled more concern about the consequences that he would face than the guy getting the beating of his life.

“Someone come and stop them!” You motioned towards the soldier that were standing a few feet away from you, looking at the scene in pure delight.

“Hey!” You heard Price’s deep voice from behind you and sighed in relief.

“Hey, both of you! Get your asses up right away! It's an order! Ghost!” Price demanded as now both Soap and Gaz where trying to get Ghost off of the poor guy.

Poor? Nah, he deserved it, but still… it's Ghost!

“Hey man, chill out.” Gaz tried to calm him down.

“Is that what you're doing now huh?” He turned towards the soldiers behind him.

“Is this what you represent? Tell me?” He screamed at them with his heavy and scary voice.

“Placing bets over a woman because she doesn't pay you any attention? You all are a fucking pain in the ass, that's what you are! We are in the middle of a serious mission and that's all you are concerned about!” He ranted on and on.

Is that all he cared about? His men not focusing on the mission? Not the fact that they were all hitting on you? Many thought overwhelmed your brain as you felt quit hurt by his words.

“Ghost calm down.” Price tried to reason with him.

“He is just the beginning” he pointed towards the soldier on the ground “many will follow if this goes on any longer. Now focus on the mission and hope I don’t see you doing anything else.”

You felt like a fly getting hit by a car driving at 150 kilometres per hour. He didn't care about you, only the mission.

When everyone left, he turned to see you but you were already gone.

You had been ignoring him for one week now, only being typical with him and that made him confused. Why did you change so suddenly?

Every time he would try to have a confrontation with you, you would find any kind of excuse to leave or you would address to someone else.

As the two weeks stroke, Simon had had enough so he tried to confront you.

It was late and you had excused yourself to your room when you heard a knock on your door. However, when you opened it, you came face to face with none other than the Ghost himself. Before you could close the door on his face, he pushed you farther in the room and he closed the door behind him.

“Will you tell what is going on?” his voice sounding cold coming from behind his mask.

“Whatever you mean?” you crossed your arms on your chest.

“You know very well what i'm talking about princess.” You almost melted at the nickname.

“trust me I don—”

“why are you talking to me? you've been ignoring me for the past two weeks and it's annoying enough.” He cut you off.

“ohhh that” you rolled your eyes.

But he snapped. He grabbed you by the neck pinning you against the wall as his other hand found your hip and squeezed it firmly.

“don't play with me darling, because you've been a really bad girl lately and that doesn't help your current situation.” You could guess that he was smirk behind the skull.

The bastard…

“get your fucking threats and yourself out of my room. You have no right to be here.” He hissed at him.

“that's not what you were saying every night you were calling me over to fuck your brains out.” That left you speechless.

“well that belongs to the past, now get out.” Your eyes were burning holes through his.

“not until you tell me what’s going on.” he demanded.

“get your fucking hands off of me then” you said and he obeyed immediately, stepping back.

“I mean why do you even wanna know. You don’t care about me” you finally said.

“what? Where did you get that from?” he asked hurt.

“tai weeks ago when you beat that guy, I was stupid enough to think that you did it because you wanted to defend me, even though I’m quite capable of doing that myself, or even that you were jealous, but no. you did it because of your fucking mission. all you fucking care about is your mission, so why even bother with me? i decided to relieve you of myself.” you admitted.

The whole time he was looking at you, not moving an inch.

“who told you I wasn’t jealous?” he finally said.

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me that, I figured it out myself.” He took a step closer.

“I was burning.” He exclaimed “just the thought of those filthy men talking to you and even more the disgusting bet they had placed on your name was eating me alive, but what was I supposed to say ‘get your fucking hand off of my girlfriend’? I didn’t want to compromise you. You’ll get fired once they know we are together.” everything he was saying was making sense.

“i… I’m sorry.” You lowered your head.

Simon exhaled deeply and pulled off his mask, his eyes meeting you once again.

“hey… you don’t have to be sorry about anything. I should have talked to you. I’m sorry for not confronting you sooner.” He placed his hands on your cheeks and his forehead on top of yours.

“do you love me?” your own hands now found his, squeezing them softly.

“I love you more than anything else in this world.” he admitted.

“I love you too si” you said back and he smiled as he leaned further down placing his lips softly on yours.

[norrisleclercf1]

This one’s kinda angsty… with fluff

Request for poly Charles and max with reader

We all know how quick max can get into a mood so maybe something happened at the race and didn’t go his way. He comes home to you and Charles making dinner for him and you go up to him to comfort him because Charles did better than him in the race so you assume he wouldn’t want to talk to him. But max just gets annoyed with you trying to talk to him but he raises his voice so charles comes in between to protect you. And you leave the place not answering your phone and when you come back max feels like shit and makes it up to you

Prompts -

Stepping in front of the other to shield them from something/someone.

“You actually came back.”

Forehead kisses hand kisses cheek kisses

A/N: I like the way your brain works

"Just don't burn the pasta, Charles." You remind your boyfriend as you start making 3 different salads, each to your liking. "One time, you burn pasta one time." He grumbles but watches the pasta like a hawk.

"He's still not home yet." You remark, looking at the time. A quarter past 7. "Probably a long debrief," Is all Charles replies knowing that Max isn't going to be in the best mood. "Still, he normally texts." Wiping your hands you grab your phone, nothing from Max and you were starting to worry.

"Maybe I should I," The sound of keys in the door, and Jimmy hopping down from his perch lets you know that Max is home. "Wait for him to come us." Kissing your cheek, you nod hating that Max didn't do well.

Max comes into view, not saying a word as he places his bags on the ground. Standing straight he makes eye contact with you and Charles, something passes over his face which has you looking away.

"It wasn't a bad race." You mummer, Charles's chopping of mushrooms stops, it starts back up again. "Leave it alone." Max walks into the kitchen grabbing a beer and popping the lid off. "Max, it really wasn't that bad. You got 5th, what's there to be upset about?" You ask, going back to the salads.

"It was 5th, fucking 5th. Charles got 1st, and I don't want to talk about this." He felt the annoyance starting to creep up, he wanted to remain calm as sometimes his temper gets the best of him. "No, Max other drivers would kill for 5th. You did good today, that doesn't mean you can ignore me trying to talk to you." Max slams the beer bottle down, his temper in full swing.

"God dammit! Will you just shut up." Max roars, but his view of you is swallowed by Charles standing in front of you. His arms out a little bit, like he was ready to block a blow or something. "I, oh Charles," Max is at a loss for words, while you stare wide eye at Charles's back. "I need a moment." You whisper stepping away from Charles.

"No, Y/n I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," You slip on your shoes, a pair of green and a pair of blue eyes watch your movements, shrugging on a jacket. "Don't burn the pasta, also the salads just need your favorite toppings." You mumble opening the front door and walking out.

-----------------------------

"She hasn't answered me." Max whispers staring at his phone, Charles cleaning the dishes in silence. "She left her phone." It's the first word he's spoken to Max in 3 hours. "I didn't mean to snap, I..." He takes a deep breath pinching his eyes. "I would never hurt her."

"Whatever, I'm going to shower." Charles was furious at Max. He knew that Max wouldn't talk to him about the race, since he did better. But, he never expected him to yell at you.

Max nods, as he stares at his phone. Magically hoping it'd force you to come home. "Stop trying to run Jimmy." You whisper, Max hearing your voice bolts up. You walk in holding Jimmy in your arms petting him. "You actually came back." Max gasps, relief filling him.

"Of course, I did." You mumble, letting Jimmy squirm and rush off back to where he came from. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His words are choked on by the tears gripping them as he moves pulling you into him.

"It's okay, I wasn't mad. Just needed a breather." Max's arms tigthen around you, kissing you all over your face. "Please don't leave every again, next time yell please." Melting into his arms you hug him back. "Okay."

[iamnotokaythx]

part 2 to the miguel fic. its rly terrible and not finished but i need to get this out or ill never finish it

tw: miguel is delusional, mentions of his past, not native spanish so i used spanisdict, none of this is thought out nor proofread and i am so burnt out that none of the plot is comprehensive

“hello?” you mutter. the couch you’ve been draped over feels gross. the room is hot and your skin sticks to the material. leather? maybe faux leather. you push the thoughts away—what you’re more concerned about is where you are.

“y/n! dios mio, okay, good, you’re awake!” miguel rushes in breathlessly from the other room and sits on the floor in front of you. “i always get so… so scared when i use the venom on you. i don’t know what i’d do if you didn’t wake up. i mean, it’s already been two days, if you didn’t wake up soon i’d probably have—“ he rambled before stopping abruptly. “…i’m glad i didn’t hurt you.”

you’re not quite sure how to respond. you try to kick your feet to sit up, but your ankles are stiff. realizing how your skin feels, you realize your feet are tied together with the futuristic cuffs he’d only threatened you with before.

“did you cuff me? what the fuck?”

“i-i didn’t want to! you left me no choice.”

“you have plenty of choice! choose to let me go. i want to go home.”

“i can’t do that. you could get hurt! your dimension could collapse, a villain might kill you, or you might die from a mugging. i can’t let you go.” he’s explained his reasons a million times over. his gaze is pleading for you to understand, to forgive him.

“as opposed to your venom? i think i’d rather take a bullet than that ‘slow and painful death,’ but i’d honestly rather have the venom than spend another year of my life with you.”

you know you shouldn’t have said that. you can practically see his heart shatter at your words. miguel’s eyes widen and he blinks rapidly. tears are threatening to spill from his eyes. he swallows and stands up. a shaky smile pulls itself onto his lips.

“you were just angry. it’s okay. you didn’t mean it. it’s okay. you still love me, right? you—“ his voice breaks. “you love me! you do.” tears prick his eyes and he paces back and forth. “you love me!” he shouts. “say it. say you love me.” he whispers as he suddenly lunges himself towards the couch and gets in front of you on his knees. he sinks his hands onto your thighs, begging you to just please say those three minuscule words.

“miguel, i—“ you used something other than a nickname, it was the first time in a while.

“no—no, no, no, no, no. just say it.” he murmured.

you stay silent.

“you don’t even have to mean it. just say it, okay? …y/n?”

“…okay. sure. i love you.” you decide to appease him because he gets awfully clingy when he’s upset and that’s something you’d rather not deal with. “just tell me where we are.”

miguel’s head shot up. he exhaled in relief.

“we’re in a safe house. nueva york is miles away. it’s-it’s okay, don’t worry, i’ve spent a lot of time and money on this. you’re really gonna like it here. i was planning on moving us out here for a long while, but your little outing was the push i needed.”

“…why do you bother keeping me prisoner? what’s in it for you?” you decide to ask.

miguel’s hopeful smile dropped. “um, i love you. isn’t that enough? i know that the whole ‘permanent house arrest’ is a little too far… but given enough time you’ll be able to earn back my trust. we can go back to nueva york after a while, if you want.”

“is LYLA at least installed in the house?”

“…yes? why?”

“so i have someone to talk to.”

“you have me, cariño.”

“…so i have someone to talk to when you’re not at work.” you correct yourself.

“oh. okay, that’s understandable.” he said absently. he shook his head and flashed a smile. “do you want me to cook you anything?”

“sure.” you reply simply. “i don’t care what.”

“right, you must be starving. it’s okay, i’ll make a little of everything.” he kissed your forehead and stood up, hurrying to what could only be assumed was the kitchen. he hums a song you were able to recognize while he turns the stovetop on and you hear the sound of food cooking. awkwardly, you shamble to a sitting position.

“miguel?”

no reply.

“miguel, can you hear me?”

was he doing that petty bullshit again?

“miggy.” you call out unenthusiastically.

“sí, mi querido?”

“turn the cuffs off.”

“sure thing, amor.” the cuffs on your ankles opened and you stretched uncomfortably.

“i would rather you use my name.”

“it’s just a nickname. would you rather i call you ‘darling’ or ‘dear’ or something?”

“i would rather you call me y/n.”

“you know i can’t do that. you’re my partner. maybe even spouse if we get the chance. i could never just call you y/n!” you can tell he’s smiling from the tone of his voice.

“we aren’t dating.”

“yes we are!” he laughs enthusiastically. “why else do you call me all those cute nicknames? i mean, my favorite’s definitely ‘baby,’ but every time i talk to you you call me some kinda nickname.”

“i called you ‘baby’ when we’d date. and i call you nicknames because you ignore me otherwise.” you correct him this time.

“hm. so we are dating!”

“is that seriously what you got out of this goddamn conversation? no. we aren’t dating.”

“of course, my love. hey, let’s not argue, hm? agree to disagree?”

you sigh in annoyance and stand up from the leather couch. it’s the only leather furniture item, as far as you can tell. the bottom floor seems to be rather big, very well decorated.

some of your favorite flowers are withering in a glass vase. miguel never cut the stems and the water hasn’t been changed in a while.

there’s a large living room, the kitchen, a bathroom, a dining room, and a library/pool table room. on the upper floor, there’s a master bedroom with a balcony that overlooks a lake, a master bathroom, 2 guest bedrooms, and a nondescript closet.

outside is a small flower garden and a lake, as well as a large shed. the entire house is surrounded by trees and there aren’t any obvious paths back to civilization.

“miguel! am i allowed to go outside?”

you look back and see he’s out of the kitchen, walking towards you. when he meets your gaze he paused and you turn back to the window. you feel miguel step closer to you and place his hands lightly on your hips.

“y/n. you know about… my wife. and my daughter. i want another chance with you. i… want you… to want a chance with me.”

…way to completely miss the question.

“get a different me. from some other dimension. one where i’m so terribly lonely that i would fall for everything you say.”

“that’s not funny.”

“it’s hilarious.”

you hear him sigh.

“i love you. i know that you’ll love me back eventually.”

“i did love you, miguel—and quit that petty nickname shit, by the way—i loved you way before you kidnapped me. i don’t know if i can ever think of you as anything other than my captor, at this point.”

“no. don’t say that. you still love me.” he insisted softly. he must be seriously delusional. “it’s been two fucking days of you just… lying there! motionless! i thought i hurt you. i did hurt you. i need to make it up to you—but do you know how scary that was? to see you still and pale on the couch? i can’t do that again. please, just play nice, okay?” his back was tensed and he was blinking back tears again. he must be in a very fragile state, killing his wife and daughter accidentally and then almost killing his partner on purpose.

“fine, we can talk about this later. can i please go outside… baby?” you spit the pet name out like it’s poison. a smile quirks up from under his tear-filled eyes.

“yeah. i planted all of it just for you.” he promised, wiping his eyes and then taking you by the hand and leading you to the backdoor.

—

part 3 coming never probably god i hate everything /hsrs

i am just rly bad at continuing things ok :(

[lolokouhm]

pt.2 is out!

"Could you rail me?"

That's not something Megumi expects to hear at 10 p.m. Especially coming from you. 

You're drenched - that's the first thing he notices. It's been raining the whole day, pouring even, making early autumn weather even gloomier than it usually is. You don't have an umbrella and the light jacket you put on yourself earlier in the morning looks completely out of place - it doesn't even have a hood to hide under. Or maybe it's not the jacket that feels off? Maybe that's just you.

You, the one who is always prepared. You, the one who is always put together. You, the one who, as far as he's concerned, should be in the cinema on a date with your boyfriend right now. A dickhead boyfriend, Megumi makes a mental note. He couldn't bring himself to like the guy, but as long as that idiot treated you right, he wasn't really in a place to say anything. But apparently, something has changed. 

"Could you rail me?"

Yeah, something has definitely changed.

Megumi doesn't really say anything as you get inside - your every movement is showing how furious you are, and it’s not like Fushiguro's not used to people with bad temper, it's just you're not one of them. He's never seen you like this before and, combining the situation with that question you’ve asked him twice, he's taken by surprise. That gets him thinking. Something must have happened, and judging by your face...

Then he notices. The smudged mascara, the barely visible traces on you cheeks, and your red, puffy, eyes.

You cried.

Megumi has seen you in various mental states, but never furious - and most importantly, never crying, so he couldn't possibly have any idea how seeing you like that would make him feel. He knows now. 

He'll kill him. 

"Come on, you need to take a hot shower, or you'll get sick", he finally says, his voice sounding surprisingly normal and calm. He's relieved - all these years of hiding his emotions and not letting them surface have at least some perks. Looking at your state, you need something - someone - to calm you down, and Megumi won’t let himself lose control just over his imagination and groundless jealousy. You need to tell him what happened first. 

So when you’re finally out of the shower, your hair still damp, drowning in his cotton, black T-shirt, Megumi is waiting in the kitchen - and he needs you to speak.

„He cheated on me.” It falls from your lips, light as a feather, and these words do something to him. Something that could have very bad consequences. „We broke up. But it doesn’t even hurt. I… I am so fucking stupid.” You’re not crying anymore - there’s a fire in your eyes that Megumi has never seen before. 

„He’s the one that’s stupid.” That is probably the nicest adjective out of many others he has on his mind right now. He observes you carefully as you adjust yourself on a high hocker next to him. 

„No, I am. I…” You sigh, hiding your face in your hands. „I didn’t cry because he broke my heart. That’s the problem. He didn’t.” That’s a relief, but Megumi’s still not convinced. His brows furrow, as he’s trying to understand what exactly has happened. „I was crying because I don’t fucking understand myself.” Your gaze suddenly jumps on him and the intensity of it makes him gulp. „That’s why I want you to rail me.” Before he can form a coherent answer to that, you speak up again. „I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And that makes me a cheater, because I went into a relationship knowing that. Or at least suspecting that.”

So many things Megumi didn’t expect to hear tonight.

He just stares at you, not sure, whether his heart is racing or it’s completely stopped beating. You’re blushing, but at the same time doesn’t look embarrassed. Despite that cute pink tone on your cheeks, you seem determined, and he’s not sure what he should do about it. 

„Or you can say you won’t”, you suddenly speak up again. The eye contact is so intensive, to the point it physically hurts. „You can say that and I’ll see if it breaks my heart. It’ll be easie-”

„I won’t rail you.” It jumps out of him faster than he’s able to process it, and his heart drops as your face turns pale. 

„Okay. It hurts. So this is a crush after all.” You stand up suddenly and rush somewhere - his apartament isn’t big, but the embarrassment hits you like a truck and you just need to hide. Or die. 

„How the fuck do you expect me to rail you?” Nervousness in Megumi’s voice makes you turn around. He’s got up from his seat as well, his worried expression long forgotten - now he just looks angry. „I’ve had sex like three times before. Fuck”, he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. As if that ever helped somebody to focus. He doesn’t have any other options though. „Jesus, (Y/N). You can’t just say these things like that. Why can’t you just like… say that you have a crush on me? At least I’d know how to answer”, Megumi murmurs and now you’re confused. 

He cannot comprehend the fact that you haven’t noticed. Everyone noticed. Itadori, Nobara, Gojo - everyone. Even he himself noticed. The gradual changes in your friendship, the staring, the smiles that cost him way more than anyone else, and yet he would give you them for free. The jealousy that came few months ago - with you being asked out, taken on dates, kissed. The irritation. And eventually, the nights where he would be so hard and frustrated, and the only cure seemed to be a memory of you. Of your skin. Of your touch. He was sure when your name left his lips that one particular night - he let his imagination run freely, and it sprinted to the point where he imagined it was your hand going up and down on his dick. He panicked a bit, that night. Your friendship was more valuable than anything else. He couldn’t risk it. 

So he endured. 

And now this?

That’s not fair. You play dirty. You asked that fucking question three times and now he’s sexually frustrated and stressed beyond what’s humanly possible. He tried so hard, gritted his teeth, tossed and turned - and you just destroyed everything. 

So when Megumi comes up to you to catch your face in his hands, you can feel his anger. And a million other things that convince you, that yes, Megumi Fushiguro could rail you without any doubt. He kisses you - and the kiss tastes like longing, like desperation, like something more, than just „liking”. Like…

„He was first”, he murmurs, as he pulls away, just millimetres, but enough to be able to say what he needs to say. His long, slender fingers rest on both sides of your face, the right thumb delicately brushing you cheek. A feeling completely different from that sudden kiss.

„What?” You feel a bit hazy and so does he.

„And you were always so happy… I just couldn’t…”, he mutters, running with his gaze when the embarrassment hits him. He curses himself for wearing that black sweater tonight, it’s so hot he cannot stand it - especially when your hands land on his covered chest.

„I was happy because I was with you, you dumbass!” You moan, and even though it’s not sexual at all, Megumi can’t help but groan. You are intoxicating. „I thought you didn’t like me… So I tried to…” You’re interrupted as he pulls you for another kiss, even more needy than the first one. And you suddenly forget what you wanted to say.

Megumi still remembers, but he needs you. If that’s a dream, then he just hopes he’s not going to wake up. Luckily for him, the way his body reacts is more biological than ever and that gives him some hope. 

„You tried to…?” 

„I tried to fall in love with someone else.” 

„You’re stupid then.” His lips travel down your neck as he’s leaving slow, sensual kisses all over it. You grip tightens on his forearm, nails diving between the sweater’s weaves just to find his skin underneath. You had no idea Megumi could kiss like that, and when his fingers slide down your collarbone, you find out that you had no idea that he could touch you like that either. „If you talked to me, we’d save a lot of time.”

„You could have said something too”, you whisper, and the combination of stress, anxiety and bliss makes your legs go weak. Luckily, Megumi’s here, and his arm keeps you in place. „You never say anything. And I…” A little whine interrupted you as his teeth grazed over your paper thin skin. „I don’t know how you feel.”

„You really can’t see it?”

„I need you to say it. I can say it. I’m in love with you, Megumi”. Is it really your voice, or are the angels singing? He could swear he got the chills. „Please.”

Years of hiding. Years of not saying anything. Years of keeping his feelings hidden. All that, just for him to make a confession.

„I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” It’s shaky, it’s soft and it’s quiet, falling into your skin and melting into your soul - something you needed so desperately. And that’s enough. 

You need to see him, so you cup his face into your hands, and the picture leaves you in awe - his soft cheeks are flushed, blue eyes shining with desire. It’s so unlike him, and the fact that you’ve actually managed to pull these words out of him shows how desperate he is.

„You can let go” you whisper, before pulling him for another kiss. „Don’t overthink it. Just… let go.” 

Who knows - he might rail you after all. 

masterlist ❤️

[k-slla]

The Best Kind of Stress Relief

A/N: @cevansbaby-dove It's really a quick in-n-out (😅) and I remember you mentioning that you wouldn't mind being choked by Jensen so *cough cough* here you go! 🤗 Hope you'll like it! 😈🤍

All mistakes are mine!

Warnings: 18+ONLY, language, unprotected PinV, choking, using tie as gag, rough sex, creampie (I am so bad with the warnings- A whole lot of smut that's what this is, so MDNI)

WC: ~1.5k

My Masterlist

You were standing outside of Felicia’s trailer, talking to her after the shooting had wrapped for the day while you waited for Jensen. 

“I know it will get better, but lately it's just so hard for me to focus on working. I’ve tried meditating, relaxing baths, everything!” You shrugged defeatedly. “We even went camping last weekend.” You added, referring to yourself and Jensen. 

Amusing grin appeared on her face. “You clearly did something wrong there if even that wasn’t relaxing for you.” 

You laughed and shoved her playfully. “Stop! We really were just camping, you know?” 

She lifted her hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. What I am saying though, is that you should’ve spent that weekend doing something else. Like doing him for example.” 

You saw Jensen approaching you two with a serious face, killing the light mood you and Felicia had.

“Y/N, can we talk for a second?”

You started to worry. “Sure, babe.” 

You got confused when he started to pull you back towards the set. “What’s up? Where are we going? Aren’t they closing it down already?”

His eyes sparkled mischievously when he looked back at you over his shoulder and grinned widely. “Don’t worry, we’ll be quick.”

You followed him through the maze of different rooms, until you finally arrived at the set of Bunker’s library, and Jensen pushed you to sit down in one of the chairs at the table. You eyed his moves curiously and tried to figure out his plans when he walked to the shelf and pulled one of Dean’s ties, he had worn earlier that day, out from between the books. “What are you doing?”

He ignored your question, threw the tie onto the table and pulled you up from the chair. You were now completely pinned between him and the table. “Oh, babe, what-!” Jensen cupped your cheek and kissed you, deepening it gradually until you were completely breathless.

“Sweetheart, work has been hard lately for you, hasn't it?” he whispered and pulled away from your lips. You nodded without a word, trying to catch your breath. His gaze shifted hungrily between your eyes and lips, as he brushed his thumb softly over your bottom lip. 

“And you know that I can't let you take all that work stress home with you, right? It's just not healthy for you.” Jensen turned you around, so you were backed against his chest and you couldn't hold back a gasp at his sudden moves. He pushed aside your hair, revealing your neck and peppered kisses from under your ear along your shoulder.

“So what should I do about it? Fuck it out of you?” His voice was quiet and laced with desire, and you could already feel his erection pressing into your thighs. Deep moan escaped from the back of your throat, when he cupped one of your breasts. 

Suddenly it dawned on you, what he had just said. “Wait, what? Right now? What if someone walks in here?” Jensen started to play with the hem of your shirt, teasingly sliding his fingers up your skin underneath it. With one hand flat on your stomach, the other one turned your chin towards him before he kissed you cravingly. “It's definitely risky, but isn't that part of the fun?” 

His tongue slipped by your lips, claiming your mouth wholly. Only some desperate groans escaped you when he continued his attack on your mouth. 

Without breaking your kiss, his hand moved down to open the zipper of your pants. “But we don't have to do anything, if you don't want to, just say stop, Y/N.” He added, knowing very well, that you won't say no when his fingers had already slipped into your underwear, where you were all wet and ready for him. You pulled away from his kiss and gasped too loudly. “No, Jensen! Don't you dare to..” he clasped one hand onto your mouth to shut you up. “Damnit, baby, you gotta keep your voice down a little bit or I’ll have to stop.” He growled into your ear and pulled away his hand to start pushing down your jeans and underwear. “You don't want me to do that, do you, sweetheart?” he asked when he moved up again and raised one of your freed legs onto the table to have better access to your pussy. 

“No, please, Jay, I want you to-” he gave you a quick kiss. “I know, just a second.” He left you there standing for a second to get himself out of his pants. He spat into his hand to lube up his cock, even though you were drenched already. He came to stand behind you again and you could feel his erection sliding between your folds, but instead of pushing inside you, he took the tie from the table and folded it up. “Open up.” He brought it up to your lips. “So you wouldn't scream too loudly.” He added with a grin. You took the tie between your teeth, biting down on it hard when Jensen suddenly pushed himself in. “Mmm..mmhh.” He didn't even give you a chance to get used to him, but started pounding hard into you. You tried to keep yourself steady on the ground, but with one leg it was quite a challenge, and the table under you was too wide to hold on from the edges so you jolted forward with each of his moves.

As he continued pistoning into you, holding you in place with one hand on your shoulder, the other one closed around your throat, squeezing and pulling a deep guttural moan out of you. “Mnhmmck!” Jensen took it as a cry, and stopped moving and quickly released his hand from your neck. “Too much?” He asked, pulling the gag from you. “No…please I want…it harder.” You breathed heavily. He shoved the tie back and buried himself back into you. “Fuck, Y/N, you are just perfect, but we have to be quick now. Don't want them to start looking for us, do we?”

You shook your head. “Mmkh...mm…mmhms.” No words came out through the gag you had, but Jensen understood you perfectly and so your windpipe was closed off again. Your eyes closed in ecstasy, and you reached overhead behind you to find his hair to lock your fingers into. 

The edges of your vision began to go white quickly from the air being cut off and Jensen's moves started to falter, letting you know he was near cumming. “Mm..fuck, Y/N, I'm almost close…but I want you to cum first, understand, baby?” He panted into your ear between his thrusts. “I want to feel you cumming all over my cock. I want you to remember this, when we're coming back to work tomorrow with Jared and Felicia and sit at this table. Just remember how I filled you up..”

You tried to moan, but even that wasn't possible with your throat closed off by his large hand, so you just tightened your grip in his hair, making Jensen groan as a result. He saw you were close to your climax and moved his hand from your neck to your mouth, knowing that with the first gasp of air you were going to fall off the edge.

You inhaled loudly through your nose and wanted to scream, but on top of the gag, his hand was also muffling all your cries, as he fucked you roughly through your orgasm. “Let it all out, baby..let it go..” he whispered into your ear, still moving fast in you, chasing after his own release.

Your whimpers started to die down as you were coming off your high. After a few last quick moves, Jensen pushed deep inside you, his cock throbbing hard as his cum covered your walls. “Fuck!” He leaned over you and searched for support from the table. Finally you pulled the tie out of your mouth. “Baby, that was so fucking perfect..” you whispered breathlessly. “But we gotta go now.” 

Both of you got quickly dressed and searched for your way out, without being caught. You tried to composure yourself, not to seem suspicious, but you knew your flushed cheeks and breathlessness was not easy to hide.

“Where were you two? We've been waiting for ages!” Jared started to complain as soon as he saw you two approaching the car. 

“You were not! Y/N and I just had to have a quick chat.” Jared threw a quick look at you as you and Jensen climbed into the backseat. “Yeah, right! And that couldn't wait until you get home, where you two live together? Alone? Not a single pair of eyes around?” Jared started teasing and Jensen wasn't having any of it.

“Shut up! Clif, let's just go.” 

Jared looked over his shoulder to the backseat. “I don't know, Y/N, it looks like you two need to have another talk at home.” To this remark even Jensen bursted out laughing. “Oh, we will, don't you worry about that.” He chuckled and winked at you.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94 @il0vebeingdelulu

[coryosmin]

best friend!coryo who texts you that he really needs help with something only for you to come over and for him to say that he needs you to suck him off :(

nsfw | mdni | oral (m) | modern au

coryo: hey. i need your help with something asap. can you come over?

when you read that text, you panicked. truthfully, with coryo, it could be anything and everything. did he murder someone and need help burying the body? did he shave his hair off again? or did he just need help finding a shirt for a date? truthfully, the man’s a menace.

being coryo’s best friend, you’ve been subjected the weirdness that comes with coriolanus snow. is he the most sane person in the world? no. but would you kill for that man? absolutely. you’d do anything for him. just as he would do anything for you.

as you arrived at coryo’s apartment, you entered without knocking. “hello?” you called out.

“in the bedroom,” came the slightly muffled reply of coryo’s voice.

you walked to coryo’s bedroom, the door open ajar. “what did you need help with?” you asked as you opened the door. you walked into the room to see coryo on his bed, his cock out in his hand as his cheeks were flushed. your eyes widened. “what the-“

“can’t make myself cum,” he said, pouting slightly. “can you help me?” he asked, giving his cock a small stroke.

you bit your lip as you looked at coryo. he looked so desperate for some sort of release, you actually felt a bit bad for him. “you called me here because you need to get off?” you asked. “couldn’t you have called one of the many girls in your phone?”

coryo sighed. “none of them are you,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “can you suck me off, please?”

you rolled your eyes at your best friend. maybe you shouldn’t give in so easily. but truthfully, coryo has a big dick and it’s not like you don’t want to. so really, what’s the harm in it? just bros doing bro things, right? “fine,” you said, making your way over to coryo. “but you owe me the same favor when i’m in need.”

coryo smirked at you. “sounds like a deal,” he said, licking his lips. you walked over to the bed, positioning yourself between his legs. your face was right near his red and angry cock.

“how long have you been trying to cum?” you asked, looking up at coryo.

coryo grabbing his phone, checking the time before putting it back down. “about an hour,” he said, slightly frustrated. “i really need to cum,” he admitted. “i haven’t been able to get any sort of work done because all i can think about is cumming.”

you cooed at coryo’s dilemma, feeling for him. and without saying another word, you just simply wrap your hand around coryo’s cock, guiding it to your mouth as you lick a strip from the base to the tip. coryo let out a small groan, looked down at you. you licked the tip of his cock before easing his length inside of your mouth.

coryo closed his eyes in pleasure, grateful to finally be getting some sort of relief that he needed. you were such a good best friend. coryo’s fingers intertwined with your hair as you moved your mouth up and down coryo’s length. “feels so good,” coryo murmured, licking his lips. you looked up at coryo and hummed around his cock, causing him to jerk his hips. “oh fuck,” he moaned.

you hollowed your cheeks, adding to coryo’s pleasure. “you’re doing so good,” he said, throwing his head back in pleasure. you used one of your hands to jerk off the base of coryo’s cock, the part of his length that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. coryo let out a whine of pleasure, unable to help the sound from escaping his mouth. “oh my god. so close, so close,” he said, bucking his hips.

and with a few more movements, coryo gripped your head, holding you still as he came inside of your mouth. you moaned at the feeling, swallowing coryo’s cum without a second thought. and when he finished, he loosened his grip, opening his eyes to look at you. you took your mouth off of his cock, looking up at coryo with plump lips and glimmering eyes.

“i think you owe me that favor now,” you said, a small smirk on your lips.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | April 1st-7th 2024

MERRY WEEWOO EPISODE DAY!!! I had a fucking terrible stream so I feel like I missed like 90% of buddie's scenes.

No thoughts, head empty, so happy to FINALLY be done with this long ass recap 😆 my ao3 history is very much still fucked. Oh well. Also gonna have to make a separate post for the podfics cause the rec was getting too long, tumblr couldn't handle it 😂

There's a couple of new people in here and maybe some people who have changed URLs, so if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Love your tags, comments, reblogs, everything! <3 My ao3 inbox is being SUBMERGED with fics, it's the best problem to have 😂

Complete

I can finally breathe by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (S7E4 Coda, BuckTommy | <1K | General); Buck's oh moment when Tommy kisses him.

and with each one, i'm a little more free series by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E4, Coming Out):

oh, bi the way (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Maddie. whenever you're ready (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby. welcome to the club (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Hen.

rebirth by renecdote/ @renecdote (S7E4 Coda | <1K | General): “Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

whenever you're ready by honestlydarkprincess (Post S7E4 Spec, Coming Out | <1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.

I won't tell no lie by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post S7E4 Spec, Tommy POV | 1K | Teen): Tommy can't exactly say he's surprised when he opens his door on a Sunday morning to see Hen Wilson standing there. He just wishes he'd thought to put on a cup first because he has a feeling he's about to get kicked in the nuts.

An End Has a Start by eirabach/ @eirabach (S7E4 Coda, Tommy POV, Tommy&Lucy | 1K | Teen): Tommy is one minute late. Hell of a minute, though.

tell me that i'm all you want (even when i break your heart) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (S7E4 Coda | 1K | General): “What’s going on?” “You tell me,” Eddie says, gently. “Buck mentioned you were being a little…odd.” To his surprise, Chris scowls. “I bet he did,” Chris mumbles, scoffing, half-under his breath. Eddie stares at him, taken aback. “Chris? What does that—” “I want you to tell him to leave.” or; buck, christopher and eddie in the aftermath of 7x04.

Sleepy Call by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, Fluff | 1K | General): OR: Eddie takes an early morning call.

to loosen his grip by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (S7E4 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. Speculation for 7x04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.

babbling brook to nowhere by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (S7E5 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie has not stopped talking since they left the restaurant. He thinks that he kind of blacked out during the actual dinner, because he’s not really sure what actually was discussed or how they even ended up sitting next to Buck and Tommy. But as soon as they got back into the truck, it was like the dam breaking loose. “I mean, it’s so great,” Eddie says once they’re back in his bedroom, as he takes his shirt off in the closet. He’s not even paying attention as Marisol perches on the edge of his bed. “They’re two of my friends, it’s awesome.” He’s happy for Buck, because Buck deserves to be with someone who gets him and will love him like he deserves. He just . . . “Is Tommy too tall for him?” Eddie asks. “Like, they’re the same height.”

my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (S7E4 Coda | 1K | Teen): He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this. Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As— He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now. Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.

“Pops, I’m bisexual.” “Hi bisexual, I’m Pops.” by Maximoff_Wanda (Post-S7E4, Coming Out | 1,4K | Not Rated): Or: Buck comes out to Bobby.

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post S7E4 | 1,6K | Not Rated): after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

pythagoras made some points by crimsonclad (S7E4, BuckTommy | 1,6K | Not Rated): Look for the helpers! Sometimes they are all trying very hard to help each other be gay in the correct configurations and doing their best, mostly. Tommy takes Eddie to Urgent Care, takes him home, and carries a message elsewhere in the city of Los Angeles.

Buck's Boyfriends by Tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | Teen): He’s too drunk to figure out the logistics right now. “I think I’ve been dating both of you.” OR: The one where Buck realizes he's dating Tommy and Eddie.

smile at me like you smile at him by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec, Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t planned on doing anything to show his displeasure at the sudden friendship between Eddie and Tommy, despite the fact that it sent hot, furious jealousy coursing through his veins. Really, he hadn’t. It’s just…well, he was just going for the ball during their basketball game…unfortunately Eddie happened to get pushed out of the way in order for Buck to get said ball.

only need the light when it's burning low by fallingthorns (Post-S7E4 | 2K | Teen): Buck blinks and realizes that he could love Tommy, if he didn't already love Eddie.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

detours by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Post-S7E4, 2K | Teen): “Take a detour,” he says, instead. “There’s construction on Sunset.” “Maybe one of these days there won’t be,” Buck says, smiles, and takes his leave. - Eddie and Buck have a talk. They somehow say everything and nothing at all.

Every Night I Come to You by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (S5, Love Confessions | 2K | General): Eddie has another sleepless night, but Buck is there. He'll always be there.

Family Feud: First Responders by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Secret Relationship | 3K | General): The FireFam go on Family Feud.

Right In Front of Me by Princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | General): Tommy’s brows knitted together as his mouth turned down with worry. “Evan,” he said and Buck wanted to hear him call his name so many more times. “What happened? Did someone choke you?” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Buck said, clearing his throat again when his voice gave an embarrassing squeak.

inescapable (i’m not even gonna try) by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie (BuckTommy, PWP, Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): From that first press of Tommy’s lips against his— the moment when the pieces slid into place and something bloomed in Buck’s chest and hummed in his veins— he felt good, and grounded, and settled in a way he never had before. It’s been a few weeks, and the newness has worn off but the excitement hasn’t. The hunger hasn’t.

I would be lying if I said I'm not dying to worship you by Daughter_of_Scotland (Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Tommy have their first date. This is how it ends. (It ends really, REALLY well)

somethin' tells me you know why i lie by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Madney Wedding Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | Teen): OR: buck brings tommy to the madney wedding. eddie is absolutely, definitively not jealous.

Never Saw It Coming...Or Did He? by Tizniz (PWP, Daddy/Mommy Kink | 3K | Explicit): Unable to deny his boyfriend anything, Eddie does. And his jaw promptly falls to the floor. Because Buck is standing there with that goddamn basketball under his shirt again. The clothing is stretched tightly over the round of what Eddie’s mind pretends is Buck’s belly. Pregnant belly. OR: The one where Eddie is 'Daddy' and Buck is 'Mommy'

sunbeam that hits at three to noon by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): or, having multiple wedding reservations under the same name was an accident waiting to happen and buck’s just trying not to jumpscare his best friend with the rather intense bridal suite decor in their very platonically shared hotel room

as lucky as us by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys (S7E4, Ravi POV | 3K | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.

soothe the ache in me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck gets a headache while trying to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie's injury.

i'm a fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by colonoscopys (S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Look—Buck’s not jealous, per say. He’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates.

You’re too Sweet For Me by Garden_Haunter (Buck Coming Out, Post S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Tommy kisses Buck, and it tastes like freedom. (Or: Buck comes out to different members of his family.)

Nightcap by Inell (S7E5 Spec, PWP | 4K | Explicit): After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap. 

some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S7E5 Spec | 4K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

before you painted all my nights by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In hindsight, maybe jerking off to a LAFD Calendar when Eddie was well on his way to become a firefighter himself… might not have been the best idea. He never really thought about the possibility of actually crossing paths with the person that's been starring every wildest dream and filthy fantasy of his.

’til storm breaks loose by markofalover/ @markofalover (S7E4 Spec | 6K | Explicit): He squeezes Buck’s bare, sun warmed skin before he drops the contact, and strolls over to where Chim and Tommy are waiting. If he stands a little too close to his teammate, well. He’ll never admit it. Buck comes back into his line of vision, already back to looking like he’s a second away from stomping off the court. Eddie’s giddy with it. …or, how an elbow to the face changes everything.

the art of making love. by dylaesthetics (Rommates, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): OR Buck’s loft gets flooded, making him temporarily move in with Eddie, who’s out and about dating guys now, apparently, and Buck tries to figure out why the hell the thought makes him sick.

no more mistakes, no more empty starts. by dylaesthetics (S7E5 Spec, Feelings Realization | 7K | Teen): Throughout his life, Buck has felt that something’s been missing. Some integral part of who he is, outside firefighting, outside the family he has built for himself, outside the trauma that keeps on piling up and overburdening his shelves. He doesn’t expect to find it in the dimness of his loft’s kitchen one Tuesday evening, the taste of a man still on his lips and his cologne lingering in the air, sweet and honest and real.

ain't no lie (bi bi bi) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S7E4 Spec, Eddie/Tommy | 8K | Explicit): Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time

skin/heat/hair in your mouth by fleetinghearts (Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): or, eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors

now our love lives in the radio by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (University AU | 9K | Explicit): buck is the host of a college radio show and eddie has a big fat crush on him, what else can i say? featuring cinderella references and a bunch of himbos from buck's football team. 

teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)/ @prettyboybuckley (BuckTommy, PWP | 9K | Explicit): OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)

the mouth is the thing that craves by Underhung_Aura (Established Buddie, PWP | 11K | Explicit): eddie loves buck and he really love buck's cock

when i think about you (i touch myself) by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (PWP, Getting Together | 12K | Explicit): Or: the one where Eddie stumbles across Buck's old amateur porn, prompting a series of belated realizations on both their parts.

honey, when you call my name by HungryHungryHippo/ @hippolotamus (Post S5E11 | 12K |Explicit): Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons 

🔥 of men and of angels by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 13K | Teen): Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it?

🔥 what humans do by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together, PWP | 18K | Explicit): "…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp. 

WIP

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 4/6 | 20K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)

Fifteen First Kisses by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together | 2/15 | 3K | Mature): Why would you have only one first kiss when you could have fifteen This is a collection of 15 different first kisses between Buck and Eddie.

[from-the-clouds]

moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader

masterlist | song inspo

summary: Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter.  Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true. Takes place during episode one of the TV series. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2.4k warnings: angst, fluff, good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort. depressive thoughts, reader sort of has a death wish, references to alcohol/drug abuse, death, loss of family members & loved ones. implied age gap, references to casual sex, heavy petting (no smut). a/n: it's been months since i posted a fic on here! some of my best work comes when it’s 2am, i’m emo and touch-deprived and i have an 8am appointment so i stay up until 5am to write. this was actually supposed to be fully a fluff piece but the angst queen had to strike.

You wish you could drown in the pile of blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in. Wish the couch would swallow you whole, like a whale, then drag you down to the deepest depths of the ocean and leave you there until you can’t hold your breath any longer, until the cold pricks the tips of your fingers and toes, until you succumb completely. 

But in some ways, you’re already existing like that, in the sea-level equivalent of the Marianas Trench. One of those sea creatures that look not of this Earth, features warped – adapting, evolving, surviving, despite your environment’s best efforts to eradicate. Your mother had once shown them to you in her old textbooks and shown you the photos of anglerfish, frilled sharks, phantom jellyfish. The memory of your mother makes you wince, and you try to think of something else.

How anyone else around you managed to put on a brave face and make their way through each day was beyond your comprehension, even though you do it, too. They probably all feel the same way about it as you do, but no one talks about the collective trauma you’re all slogging through. No one has anything new to add, and it’s foolish to believe that anyone’s insight could somehow take the pain away. Even if you have a chance to tell your story, there is always someone who has it worse. 

Get in line. 

Exhausted as you are, you don’t sleep much. Most of your nights are spent at the precipice of unconsciousness, and you can never quite make it over the edge, the helicopters, radios, sporadic gunfire always manages to rouse you first. When you do manage to sleep, you’re plagued with nightmares. You prefer perpetual fatigue. 

A knock at your door comes suddenly, and you start, sitting up quickly – but quietly – to not alert the unexpected guest that someone might be in the tiny studio you call home. It’s well after dark, which makes you doubt that whoever, or whatever is at the door, isn’t there for a friendly drop-in or a cup of tea, not that friendly drop-ins or cups of tea ever happened. 

But before you grow too panicked, your name is muttered, accompanied by another impatient rap of knuckles against the hollow wood. It’s a familiar rasp, even-toned and calm, and your shoulders sag in relief before you abandon your post on the couch. 

“Joel?” you ask softly, squinting in the dim light of the hallway through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look any different, though it’s been about a month since you’d last seen him. You’re not sure what to expect, but he’s the same as always, wearing a worn, tight denim shirt and fraying jeans. He looks tired, but you can’t recall a time when he doesn’t. Everyone looks tired all the time, it just only concerns you because it’s him. 

Not waiting for an invite, he steps through the small opening you allot for him and into your place, wordlessly.

“What the fuck, Joel, it’s past curfew are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

“I’ve done worse,” he says, dismissively, and yanks the door from your hand to close and lock it behind him. 

You don’t argue with him. You rarely do – which you think is partly why he likes you – but especially now, you don’t have the energy. And when you do, he’s too stubborn to listen. 

Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter.  Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true.

So when he steps forward, crowding you backwards until your rear hits your kitchen countertop and you have nowhere to go, you don’t ask questions. 

His hand cradles your chin, tilting it back to look into his sad eyes, and he kisses you. For a split second, it’s chaste, and you’re almost confused, until it’s suddenly not, and his grip on your jaw tightens, his lips parting. Joel stakes his claim, his free hand winding into your hair and pulling. You sigh, closing your eyes. 

He moves both his hands to cup your ass through the flimsy athletic shorts you’re wearing, lifting your hips up and against him, making to carry you to the bed, or maybe even take you on the countertop – it could be one of those days. Everything he’s doing would normally light you on fire, and there’s a primal instinct that’s telling you you like it, but for some reason, you hesitate.

Joel senses it right away. You’re not sure how. And you don’t want him to. You’re prepared to submit, even though you feel numb everywhere, because you hope for the chance to feel something, anything other than what you’ve felt the last few days. He pauses, too, pulls back. 

You expect to meet his eyes when you look up at him, but they are fixed on something else. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you try to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, until you follow his eyes. An empty bottle of liquor sits on the bar behind you. Fuck.

“You’re drinking again.” It’s not a question.

“That was actually from yesterday,” you say, like it would make any difference. The remnants of a hangover have been tweaking your temples all day, biting the back of your eyes. It was half empty when I got it. It was just one night. I can have a couple drinks without getting out of control. Your brain cycles through several more excuses before you decide not to waste your breath. 

“What did I tell you about this?” He reached behind you and lifted the bottle, holding it in front of your face like you hadn’t been able to see it clearly enough before. 

“You should talk,” you don’t like being cruel, but you’re already desperate to end the discussion. He’s probably drunk or high right now, but it’s none of your business, and you’d given up trying to save him a long time ago. 

You shift your weight to lower yourself off the counter and move away from him and the once-inviting warmth of his embrace. Joel doesn’t let you make it far, reaching out to grip your upper arm and tugging you back to face him with little-to-no effort on his part. His strength always startled you, even though it shouldn’t, considering his size. It also should’ve scared you, but the manhandling mostly just turned you on. Not enough that you were going to keep letting him lecture you.

“It’s different. You’re still so young.”

“What does that matter?”

He doesn’t have an answer. 

You lift your chin, squaring up to him. “That’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand on hip and studies you carefully. Despite your attitude, you’ve never liked disappointing him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, which you can recognize is an awfully fucked up way to feel about someone you regularly have sex with, but you lived in an awfully fucked up world.

There’s a wistfulness to Joel’s expression you’ve never seen before. He chooses to change the subject, and you’re thankful until what he says registers. 

“I’m leaving town tomorrow night. You might not see me again.”

It takes a moment to process, but it hits you like a blow to the gut. So hard, you’re surprised you don’t stagger backwards with the force of it. Even when it settles, you know it hasn’t even sunk in all the way.

“Well…” you take a long, thoughtful pause, and offer the only thing that your brain can come up with, “....stay safe out there, then.”

“Yeah,” he runs his tongue over his teeth and squints at you. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” 

Snorting, you know it’s important to remain as blase as possible so you don’t cry. Although, you don’t really cry anymore. Even when you want to, the tears never come. At some point, after watching every person you’ve ever cared for die in uniquely devastating ways, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit. 

“I know you. Something’s up.”

No, you don’t! You want to scream, but that would be a lie. It’s been three years since you met, maybe one since your….arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, had begun. 

How the two of you had become so close was a mystery even to you. It’s not like you were charming or charismatic, or willing to put up the innocent act. You didn’t try to inflate his ego, which most men loved. At first, you didn’t even really like him at all. That changed with time. Somewhere along the way, things just clicked.

“It’s nothing that no one has ever felt before,” you shrug. Joel has his fair….or rather unfair share of demons, and is the last person you want to complain to. Most of the time, he’s unflinchingly guarded, but he’s shared enough – secrets whispered in your ear while tangled in damp sheets, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart – to make you wonder if you have it so bad. Focusing on a fixed point, a crack in the tiled floor, you avoid his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice pulls you back. “Don’t do that.” 

“I’ll be okay,” you say. “I’m just having a d-a week.” A month, a year, a life. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

His face softens, his hand reaching to clasp with your own, thumb grazing across your palm. “Come here,” he murmurs. He pulls you against him tightly, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers weaving into your hair. 

“You’re going to be alright. You’re a strong girl.” He’s too smart to believe that, you think. But it doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his sternum. His broad chest is sturdy, firm, and you close down your eyes. 

Neither of you speak, and one of his hands begins to stroke your back in soothing circles. You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had. Just one last time. 

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

There’s no reason to protest, he’s right, so you let him lead you to the bed. You’re already in your pajamas, and he draws back the covers and tucks you underneath them carefully. 

“You’re staying,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like command, and although you can’t stand the idea of pleading for it, would if you had to. You’re that desperate. 

You hear the clunk of his boots landing on the floor, feel the dip of his weight on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Of course,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he slides underneath the covers. 

Joel’s arm snakes around your waist, and you’re being pulled back against his chest. You wriggle to be closer, even though it’s not possible, his nose resting on the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly. He’s being so tender, so sweet, it makes you feel sick.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” you turn your head slightly, so you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You want to be able to remember his face, in case you never see him again. He was handsome, you’d always thought that, even despite the years between you. 

“It’s my brother. I don’t have much of a choice, baby.”

Joel had told you all about Tommy. You wished you could be resentful at his leaving to find his brother, but you knew you’d risk pretty much anything for the chance to see anyone in your family again. 

You shake your head. “This…sucks.” 

He offers a rare chuckle, one that vibrates through his chest and straight to the ache in your stomach that started when he told you he’d be leaving. “It does. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighs, his breath on the nape of your neck, and you shiver. “I’ll miss you.” It’s a simple truth you can hear in his voice without even needing to look in his eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” You reach for his hand. 

You roll over to face him, his head propped on his opposite hand, looking down at you. 

“You remember everything I taught you?” he asks. “Be smart, keep yourself safe.”

Joel had proven to be a pretty valuable resource when it came to survival skills. He’d taught you how to shoot a gun, to load and reload it, how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You recalled the feeling of him leaning over your shoulder, adjusting your grip to shoot at a target. And even if most of his lessons in hand-to-hand combat resulted in him having his way with you on the kitchen floor – you didn’t mind it at all – you knew enough to defend yourself. 

“I do,” you answer. “And I will.”

You think of all the time you’ve spent with him the past few years. How it has made things bearable. It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see him, and you know what you’re supposed to say. But for the life of you, you just can’t say it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, lazy and lingering, both your hands on the side of his face, palms pressed against the scruff of his beard. You pull away after awhile.

“Tell me about what it was like. Before all this.” When the outbreak began, you were just a child. It felt like a dream, your memory so fuzzy it was hard to recall anything except the worst parts.

Joel does, and you listen, captivated, though it’s not the first time you’ve heard it. For such a gruff man, he paints a pretty picture.

It’s easy to imagine what your life might be like if none of this had ever happened. It would have been better, infinitely better, for yourself, for Joel, for everyone. It would be better, but if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met him. For some reason, something about that doesn’t feel right.