#i always need to figure out how to draw the hair when i do new charas

[meru90]

[prokopetz]

Code Green

A game for 3–7 players, about being where you're not supposed to be.

Last night, you were suspended in a tube of brightly coloured goo in an underground research facility, operated by an organisation whose three-letter initialism's meaning is strictly need-to-know. This morning, someone noticed your tube was empty. Nobody has determined how that happened yet, and you're not inclined to stick around until they figure it out!

Or, in other words, it's been nearly a whole week since I got that massive revision to Space Gerbils out the door, and apparently my brain has decided that's enough of a break. This thing was written start to finish in under 12 hours, so let the circumstances of its authorship guide your expectations. Special thanks go once again to Caro Asercion, whose micro-RPG Dwindle introduced me to the design space I'm fucking around with here. Go buy their stuff.

Anyway:

What You'll Need

Code Green is a tabletop RPG for one game moderator (GM) and up to six players. Each player will need a copy of the Profile Grid, below, as well as three tokens of some sort: dice, coins, beads, etc. You'll also need at least five six-sided dice (for the whole group, not per player, though it's fine if each player has their own set). If you're using dice for tokens, it's recommended that the dice you plan to roll be visually distinguishable in case they land on someone's Profile Grid.

Rolling Dice

There are two ways you'll be asked to roll dice in this game: rolling d66, and rolling a dice pool.

To roll d66, roll a six-side die twice, reading the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. For example, if you rolled a 3 and then a 5, your result is 35. You may also be asked to flip a d66 roll; to do this, take your result and swap the digits without re-rolling. In the preceding example, if you flipped your roll of 35, your new result would be 53.

To roll a dice pool, pick up the indicated number of six-side dice, roll them, and take the highest individual result. Duplicates have no special significance. For example, if you rolled a pool of three dice and got a 2, a 4, and a 4, your result would be 4. If you would ever roll a pool of zero or fewer dice, roll two dice and take the lowest instead.

Character Creation

Each player should create their own character. There are three things about your character which are always true:

You are newly born into the world. You may know things about the world (e.g., from your programming, having read them on a computer terminal, etc.), but you haven't experienced them.

You are implausibly good at remaining inconspicuous; unless you're deliberately drawing attention or doing something which requires a dice roll, humans will almost always fail to spot you.

You are not human. You can decide what that means.

To find out what else is true about your character, roll or choose three times from the Form table, and three times from the Function table, placing your results into the correspondingly labelled slots on the Profile Grid, below, in any order you please. Your three results from each table should be different; if you elected to roll and get the same entry multiple times, flip your result, and re-roll if it's still a duplicate.

Think about what your three Form traits and three Function traits imply about your character's physical makeup, but don't set anything in stone just yet – you'll see why not in a moment.

Finally, roll a six-sided die five times, and record the results in the order in which they're received. The resulting five-digit number is the only name your character has when play begins.

Table 1: Form (d66)

11–12. Blood 13–14. Bones 15–16. Brain 21–22. Claws 23–24. Ears 25–26. Eyes 31–32. Guts 33–34. Hands 35–36. Heart 41–42. Hair 43–44. Legs 45–46. Lungs 51–52. Nose 53–54. Skin 55–56. Tail 61–62. Teeth 63–64. Tongue 65–66. Wings

Table 2: Function (d66)

11–12. Accelerated 13–14. Autonomous 15–16. Auxiliary 21–22. Cryogenic 23–24. Cryptic 25–26. Elastic 31–32. Electric 33–34. Entropic 35���36. Invasive 41–42. Invulnerable 43–44. Kinetic 45–46. Magnetic 51–52. Phasing 53–54. Polymorphic 55–56. Projectile 61–62. Pyrogenic 63–64. Telescopic 65–66. Toxic

Playing the Game

Play proceeds in a series of scenes. In each scene, the GM will set the stage: a challenge to overcome, a peril to escape, a mystery to investigate, etc. Given the nature of your characters, most things will be mysteries to you!

Initial Token Placement

Once the stage has been set, place each of your three tokens on a different square on your Profile Grid. If you have no preference, you can roll d66 for each token and place it in the square whose marked numeric range contains the number you rolled, flipping or re-rolling your result if you get a square which already contains a token. The placement of these tokens represents your initial state when the scene opens. Depending on the nature of your character, this may be reflected by a shifting of internal focus, or by a physical transformation.

Participation

To participate in the scene, simply tell the GM what your character does; the GM will describe how the world responds, and ask what you do next. Whenever you wish – or are forced – to do something more than lurk and observe, you are obliged to make a test.

Making Tests

To make a test, first choose a pair of traits – one Form trait, and one Function trait – with which to face the challenge. For example, if your Form traits are Legs, Tail and Teeth, and your Function traits are Cryptic, Invulnerable and Phasing, you might test your Invulnerable Legs against the trouble at hand.

Next, count the number of tokens present in the rows extending from each of the chosen traits. The illustration below shows which squares would be consulted in the preceding example:

Next, roll a dice pool containing a number of dice equal to the number of tokens present on squares extending from the chosen traits. Do not count a token twice if it's on the square where the two traits intersect (e.g., the green square in the illustration above). In the event that no tokens fall on squares extending from appropriate traits, remember that you are allowed to roll a pool of zero dice by rolling two dice and taking the lowest rather than the highest.

Finally, compare your result to the following table:

1–3. Less than human. Whatever you'd intended to try still happens, but it cannot overcome human opposition (or adversity which would challenge a typical human), and any lasting effects are transitory and easily explained away. 4–5. Mostly human. Your effort can contend with human opposition (or circumstances which would challenge a competent human), and its lasting effects make it obvious that someone (or something) has been interfering with matters. 6. More than human. Your effort easily brushes aside any human opposition, and its lasting effects are impossible to rationalise as anything other than the intervention of inhuman forces.

Without Applicable Traits

In the event that you're forced to make a test and no possible pairing of your traits is applicable, you don't get to roll anything, not even with a pool of zero dice; simply resolve the outcome as though you'd rolled a result of 1–3. Other characters may attempt to preserve you from this fate by assisting you, in which case you roll one die per assisting friend; see below for more details.

Assistance

If you wish to assist another character in making a test, consult your own Profile Grid, considering only those squares which contain tokens. Only the specific pairs of traits represented by the squares on which your tokens fall are eligible for assistance; for example, if one of your tokens falls on the intersection of Cryptic and Teeth, you may assist with Cryptic Teeth, but not any other pair of traits involving Cryptic or Teeth unless those squares also have tokens on them.

If you're able to identify an eligible pair of traits that seems applicable to the test at hand, explain how you're using it to help, and hand the player making the test one extra die. Any number of characters may assist on a given test.

Providing assistance neither requires nor permits your character to adapt (see below) – it needs to be your own test for that!

Adapting

After resolving a test, your character adapts, shifting focus or form to reflect what they've learned. Take one token of your choice from your character sheet, and move it to a different square which doesn't already contain one. You can move any token you wish, but it must end up on a different square than the one it started on unless no valid destinations are available. Adapting is not optional, and must be carried out after every test.

Suffering Strain

If whatever you're making a test against is particularly strenuous or dangerous, you might suffer strain as a consequence. Strain will often be incurred on a result of 1–3, and rarely on a result of 4–5; only the most foolhardy efforts will incur strain even on a result of 6!

To incur strain, roll d66, and place a small X on the square on your Profile Grid whose indicated numeric range contains the number you rolled. If there's a token on that square, immediately move it to an empty square of your choice, unless fewer than three unmarked squares now remain; in that case, simply remove the token entirely.

For the remainder of the scene, tokens may not be moved to any marked square. In addition, if you suffer further strain, and the square indicated by your d66 roll is already marked, your character is incapacitated, and may not participate in tests at all until they recover.

All strain is cleared – and any discarded tokens restored – at the end of each scene. Incapacitated characters also recover at this time.

[murdrdocs]

getting a small drawing of abby’s tattooed when mike proposes <3 the ring is your commitment to love mike and the tattoo is your commitment to love abby <333

this is sick in the bestest of ways :(

there's a ring on your finger, simple and minimalistic, nothing too extravagant. but you don't need extravagant. you don't want extravagant, either. you like the pure life you have now with mike and abby, and the ring on your finger is a reminder of your commitment.

but only to him. not to the little girl who hangs onto your every word. not to your new partner in crime who desperately wants to replicate your unset aesthetic. not to the person you smile with the most.

you're thinking on the subject one day whenever abby shows you a new drawing, smile big especially with the final teeth she's grown in. you smile down at it, too, like you always do, but your sights zone in on the three sets of hands clasped together.

it's your suggestion and abby is delighted to tag along with you. she watches with wonder as the artist presses the machine needle to your skin. she holds your hand when you wince and sweetly asks you if you're okay, actual concern in her voice when you shut your eyes tight.

you reward yourself with ice cream after, another expense added to the day but you couldn't care less. through licks and words full of chocolate, you and abby ogle at the permanent drawing on your skin, abby touching it over the second skin every few moments as she continuously breathes out sounds of wonder.

"i wonder how long it'll take mike to notice." abby poses the question as a hypothetical, nothing but the thought pattern of a child spoken aloud. but you like the sound of it, and you suggest keeping it a secret, abby delightedly pantomiming zipping her lips and tucking the key into your pocket in response.

you put her question to the test when you arrive home, bellies full from ice cream and a subsiding ache in your arm.

mike kisses you like usual, ruffling abby's hair when the two of you enter. abby giggles, shooting looks at you from around mike. you press a finger to your lips behind his back, satisfied that mike chalks abby's behavior up to her playful nature.

it's not until a few hours later whenever the three of you are watching HGTV (you and abby's new favorite channel) in the living room after dinner that mike notices. he's playing with your hand like always, twirling your ring around your finger, lifting and pressing his rough hands into your knuckles periodically. he traces his hand along the top of your hand, leading to your wrist, and that's when he stops.

his hands still, you think his breathing does, too, and you send him a glance. you don't say anything, he doesn't say anything, abby comments on the chosen wall color of the tv couples house.

then mike lifts your wrist, turns it around, and when his eyes meet yours they appear a little more glassy. "what's this?"

you lick your lips. "a tattoo."

you see abby's bob tousling in the wind she creates when she whirs her head around in your peripheral vision. you assume she's smiling and eager now that you've unlocked her zipped lips.

"of what?" mike's eyes bounce between his two beaming girls.

abby handles this one for you, bouncing to her feet. "it's my drawing!" she runs to the kitchen table, grabbing the drawing from a couple of weeks ago, and showing it to mike. "see!"

mike stares at the drawing, then at your wrist, taking in the three pairs of stick figure hands that are linked together, bordering your left hand.

when he stares back at you, you interpret his look as bewilderment. panic sets in and you start to consider that maybe mike didn't want you to commit to his sister like this. maybe this is too much. maybe you should've asked his opinion. maybe he–

and then mike kisses you. soft, yet passionate, and slow. you distantly hear abby's expression of distaste from beside you both, but the only thing you can really focus on is mike running his thumb back and forth over the second skin covering your tattoo.

[raphaelsrightarm]

Your work is absolutely amazing and I was hoping you could do a nsfw scenario for the bayverse boys, their s/o is super needy and desperate to be loved on but the boys are on the phone with someone (anyone of your choosing), they get tired of waiting and pull their mans pant down to blow him. It would be nice to see how long the boys last on the phone call.

Break

I chose Donnie for this one just because as I read this he immediately popped into my head let's also pretend Donnie's desk is behind a door in a secluded lab and not in their actual living room cause otherwise this would be awkward haha

Words: 1769

Warnings: Smut, 18+

It had been two weeks since he had last fucked you. 

Two weeks of him either being glued to his desk or being dragged to his bed by one of his brothers whenever they had enough.

He had taken on new responsibilities with the NYPD, mostly in an attempt to ease the collective anxiety most of them had felt ever since their fight with Krang. He had been looking for ways to prepare themselves for a return, if there ever was one. Finally, he found a way. He’d spent never ending days creating devices that could pick up on any ripple that could allude to his reappearance. 

They were beautiful, and with each one he created your pride for him swelled more and more. There was another desk chair in his lab he had just for you, which is where you’ve been for nearly every day since he began working on his newest endeavor. 

You didn’t mind it. It was nice to watch him work. He always seemed to know what to do and how to complete it. You were sure that there wouldn’t ever be a day when he didn’t impress you. 

But you couldn’t deny that you missed him. Most days he would be at his desk, but still being able to leave it for a little while. Then there were times when he would get so swept up in his work that he would fixate on his project until he was completely sure he was happy with it. 

That’s what led to him being glued here for days. 

That’s what led to the need that’s been left to engulf you. 

“You’re quiet today.”

Donnie proved to have a certain talent to be vigilant of what was happening around him even while immersed in his screens. There had been days when you would be telling him stories as his fingers flew across the keys and he would hear every single word. 

“Sorry,” you watched as he pulled away from his notes and drawings and flexed his fingers. “Just distracted.”

“Oh?”

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” You knew the answer by the way his eyes guiltily flicked quickly to his work then back to you. He was trying to figure out how much time these machines would take. He had finished ten, and wanted to create more so that there was enough to cover the city. 

He hated the way your face fell, hated even more that it was because of him. “I’m sorry, dove. It won’t be long before I finish all of this, then we can do whatever you want. I promise.”

“You don’t want to take a break?”

“I took a break the other day.” He said defensively. 

“You mean when Raph forced you to go to bed?”

He feigned offense. “I lost a lot of valuable time, then.” He was trying to make you smile, and the gesture alone brought a small one to your face. 

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes staying focused on you. 

“Come here,” He placed his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, opening his arms. Part of you wanted to be spiteful, to stay planted in your seat. But that part was much smaller than the temptation of being close to him. 

You curled up in his lap the way you had so many times before. His arms felt so familiar to you as they encased you. You laid your chin on his shoulder as his hands moved around your back. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered as his fingers combed through your hair. “I know I can get caught up.” 

The guilt you felt washed away the rest of your anger, which flooded out with a sigh against his skin. “It’s ok. I know it isn’t your fault.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you up so he could look at you. “How about we watch a movie in here? I could pull it up on one of my monitors.” 

You felt yourself fill with warmth at how much he wanted to see you happy. The effort he always made to make sure you didn’t feel neglected. 

“That would be nice.” His heart swelled at the sight of you smiling. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one that was supposed to be quick, innocent. Then he did it again. And again. Then his hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. 

It was almost embarrassing how much desire rolled through you from something so simple. You knew he could tell as he inhaled deeply through his nose, inviting your scent in eagerly. 

His hands slid to your hips as he savored the feeling of your lips on his, basking in the heat of your body. You felt him harden underneath you as his grip tightened. 

Slowly, you rolled your hips against his bulge. His whole body stiffened as he took in a sharp breath. He began guiding your hips to move at the speed he wanted, which unfortunately, was slow.

Even then, the friction was making your limbs numb, the only important part of you being the one touching him. His small moans would fold against your lips as he moved you faster. His hand slid up the back of your shirt, moving up your skin until he found the clasps of your bra, and you felt your heart race.

It was then his phone started ringing. And your heart dropped to the floor. 

Part of you hoped he would ignore it completely, and you deflated even more when he pulled away to check who was calling. He looked at you apologetically.

“It’s Vincent.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder in defeat. His sigh had a hint of amusement in it. “Give me just one second. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nodded as you climbed off his lap, returning to your seat. 

He answered and began speaking, you could tell he was trying to rush. He listened to her concern, then shut his eyes and let out a breath, once again looking guilty.

“She wants to ask about the placements of the devices.” He explained. After a moment, you realized he was asking you if you were alright with him answering her. You felt the sting of annoyance about the timing, but you nodded, waving him on with a flick of your hand. 

He reached out and squeezed your knee before turning his eyes to the monitor that had a map of New York, littered with purple dots indicating where he wanted to install his systems. He began listing off street names to her as you watched his lips move. 

Your eyes slid down his chest, guided by the strain of his straps, coming to a stop of his hard cock still pressing against his pants. Slowly, you rolled your chair toward him. He spared a brief glance to you before listing off more places on his map. He paused in between each one, making you think she must be writing them down.

Your hands slowly reached for him, your palms flattening on his knees. He looked at you, confused, until he saw the smirk on your face and your body moving to the edge of your chair. He pieced it together quickly after that.

He watched with a look that was a mix of disbelief and challenge as you slid to your knees in front of him. You didn’t look away from his eyes throughout any of your movements. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the look meant, Don’t you dare. 

He then seemed to remember he was supposed to be responding, jolting a little. “What’s that?” He cleared his throat to try and mask that his voice had gotten high. “Yes, I’m planning on placing them the same distance from one another.” His hand squeezed his phone while the other was gripping the arm rest. You reached for the hem of his pants, undoing his belt and zipper before he became exposed to you. 

You slowly wrapped your hand around him, not yet moving, only applying the pressure. It was enough to have him breathing heavily, taking the lower half of the phone further away from his face to muffle it. 

His ability to divide his focus suddenly disappeared as he asked Vincent to repeat her question, giving her an answer you weren’t paying attention to. Your hand began a steady pace, his hips twitching slightly toward you.

There was a new fire lit in his eyes. He watched as you leaned forward to press kisses along the base. You ran your tongue up his shaft, stopping to swirl it around the head.

He bit his fist keeping his noise down as he glared at you. The spark in his eyes never dimmed though, he had been missing this just as much as you have. He missed the feeling of your hands on him. He missed the way your warm mouth felt wrapped around him. He missed being able to watch your eyes tear up as you took him as far back in your throat as you could manage. 

You took the head of his cock in your mouth, sucking gently on it before releasing. You kept your eyes on him, knowing that by now you’re on the way to driving him insane. 

You took him in again, pushing down further this time, as far as you could go. Your hand stroked the rest of him as your head began bobbing along his length. 

His head pressed the back of his chair as he began answering anything with one word sentences or with simple ‘mhm’s. 

Heat was traveling through you at the sight, spreading through every vessel in your body. His eyes clenched shut for a moment as he concentrated on staying silent. 

Finally, they began saying their goodbyes. 

“I’ll be able to finish them up soon,” His eyes full of lust as he looked at you, “I have something I need to deal with first.” His voice flowed against you like water as a new surge of excitement ran through you. 

You released him with a pop as he hung the phone up, still stroking him with a small grin on your face. He dropped his phone on his desk and ran his fingers through your hair. 

“That needy, huh? Do you need it that badly?” His hand moved to cup your chin. You began to stand, but he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Finish me off, then I’ll give you what you want.”

[satoruin]

➣ matchmaking or meddling?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you find out just how much your students have been meddling in your love life, though you can’t really be mad.

notes from lee: i’m afraid to make this look like an award acceptance speech so ill be brief. had to make a fic for the namesake of the blog and a very late hbd to boo (@2018-01-20). kinda wish i had more interactions with the kids, but i ended up w/ a lot of gojo pov also unedited

Looking back it should have been obvious what these kids of yours were up to. Yes, they were the reason you were in this god-forsaken closet with a blindfolded fool.

You’re only really aware of their meddling now as you hear their snickers from the hallway, so you can’t quite tell when their meddling started. But it makes sense that they were plotting something, but was it in collaboration with Satoru? Because it seemed like every mishap or coincidence between your two classes, Satoru took it in stride and turned it into his advantage. Just like he was taking advantage of the situation now…

Thinking back, your first clue should have been with the sticky notes. A note scrawled on a pink sticky note, in actually legible handwriting, addressed to you like a valentine. Reading, “from: Satoru ;D to: (y/n) <3; do you look this good every day or do i just not remove my blindfold enough????” It’s on top of a stack of papers handed over by the ever-stoic Fushiguro. Surely to get your guard down, and it did.

When you interrogate your fellow teacher about it later, he keeps his normal all-knowing grin plastered on his face. Now they, being the kids who orchestrated it, don’t need to do any work as every day after that there’s a new sticky note somewhere for you to see. They vary in color, most in some shade of pink, some with bad pick-up lines, others with a stick figure drawing, or the very rare ones hidden away with words that make you spit out your drink.

Or maybe another tip off should have been the ‘coincidental’ times you’d have the second years out on the training field and he just so happened to also plan a demonstration for the first years at the same time. But then again you don’t hear their snickering above your irritation at the white-haired man as he lets you jab a finger into his chest, with his annoying smirk.

But they notice you don’t care anymore that he peeks his head over your shoulder to look at your teaching outline just so he can do the ‘coincidental’ planning now.

And still the biggest hint that you fall for every time, is when they leave you at the cafe with just Satoru after begging for a weekend meetup. And again, when they ask to have team dinners, study sessions, or extra training, it's ridiculous. Your gullibility and trust in them is commendable, but it’s become laughable as you still trust in the kids to show up. And they do, just in disguise from across wherever you are as they watch Satoru come to your rescue every time.

Maybe the more ridiculous part is when the rare glimpse of their teacher’s eyes is pointed, peeking through their poorly crafted disguises, at them from across the room with a smirk.

He’s noticed for a while now that the kids are playing matchmaker, and their skills are much better than those his clan hires. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind, if anything he finds it cute that they think he needs the help. Though admittedly they do have some good ideas. Each one never fails to fluster you, in your own cute and angry way, as he takes over their schemes. His six-eyes catch the flurry of texts sent every time he does so, which he’s sure just encourages them further.

Satoru’s not quite sure when his feelings for you developed. He’s always found you attractive, especially when you were his cute kouhai (he still likes to call you that in order to annoy you until you begrudgingly call him senpai once again.). Everything he learns about you only adds to his initial interest. He’s a sucker for getting to know the little things, like your favorite dinner spot after a tough mission or what your ideal day off is. Once you accept his feelings he’ll put the knowledge you deem useless to good work.

But there’s a moment that sits so starkly in his memory as the first time he realized he was in love with you and not just intrigued or infatuated.

It was maybe around the time Tsumiki had gotten sick and though Megumi was self sufficient, Satoru didn’t feel that he should be alone. He knows he’s not the best at comfort, hell he could barely comfort himself, so he sends you.

And he’s not overly worried about you, you’re a teacher so he’s sure you’ll get through to the ever prickly Megumi just fine. Plus you’ve always been significantly better at handling emotional situations, he knows first hand. So when he comes to check on you after finishing his mission, he smiles at your success.

Megumi’s head rests on your lap, asleep, and you’re slumped over the armrest. There’s a twang of jealousy that pricks at his mind, wishing it was him in your lap instead, but all he can think about is having you greet him as he comes home and Megumi and Tsumiki sitting for dinner and that would be yours and his alone.

He’s never felt like someone that would settle down or want a family, especially given the circumstances of his status. But you, in this moment, make him want to move past the shrewdness of the higher ups and his clan, and just have you. He longs for something that is just his, not part of Jujutsu Society, the higher ups, or his clan, or even Satoru Gojo, he wants things just for Satoru, just for him.

You are that something, that someone, he wants, he’s convinced that he needs you like the air he breathes. The weird surge of emotions that have been kept bottled up since a dark day suddenly seems to make sense and it has a name, it’s love.

So when he’s reminiscing on his feelings, it really has been there all along, but it’s that very specific moment in which his love for you was defined.

And the apex of all his work in gently guiding you to realize your feelings, that he’s very sure are there, is in a closet of all places. His blue eyes glow dimly in the dark of the closet with the snickers of his students on the other side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, much less confident than he intended, but you make him nervous.

You meet his bright eyes briefly before looking away and returning the greeting, “Um, hi.”

His breath hitches and his mind blanks, every funny line or flirty remark he could make right now is gone. He can’t think about anything other than you, how cute your expression is, how good your hair looks even slightly messed up, but mainly your lips and how much he needs to kiss you before he leaves this cramped closet. “How are you?”

You blink at him incredulously, “We’re in a closet, Gojo. How do you think I am?”

He tosses his head back and groans as you use his last name, he thought he’d gotten you to call him Satoru like pretty much everyone did. “C’mon (Y/n), you know I hate when you call me that.” He whines and pouts, jutting his bottom lip out like a toddler.

He watches the guilt flash across your face briefly, surely it’s you remembering how he confided in you about hating the weight that came with his last name. “Sorry, I know. I know,” you pause and he senses your hesitancy and waits, “Satoru.”

He’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that differs from his usual smirk as he rocks on his feet with his heart fluttering.

“You really like it that much when I call you ‘Satoru’?” You ask, eyeing up his body language with a skeptical look.

“Maybe.” He answers in a sing-song tone, he’s back to his usual self, “But you know what I’d like more?”

He leans in close and glances down at your lips. No matter how many times he does this, it always results in him pulling away with a teasing smile. So when he feels your hands wrap around the neck of his uniform and pull him closer, it’s certainly a surprise.

“You want a kiss?” You ask and he nods meekly, if possible, and you do, you kiss him. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as his heart flutters in his stomach. His big hands reach up to cup your face and keep you glued to his lips. Gods, it’s everything he’s dreamed about and more.

When you part from him to catch your breath, he’s smiling. “I hope you know I want much more than a kiss.” He waits for you to breathe and to watch your reaction before smashing his lips onto yours again.

Satoru feels your arms wrapped around his neck and how your hands crawl through his undercut to tug at his hair. And he’s similar, the hands once holding your face have traced down your body to your hips so he can hold you close.

The knock on the door cuts your time short, your tongues and bodies having to part. Satoru watches as you smooth over your clothes and hair before he pulls up his blindfold. The door opens not a moment later to reveal the two classes waiting with bated breath to see something scandalous.

They are disappointed, fortunately for you and your image as a teacher. None of the students have the time to catch the heavy blush on his face as he slips away while you lecture them. But they do notice how flustered you are when you get a text from Satoru, “dinner 2nite?”

[gilmore-angel]

everything has changed | aaron hotchner x reader

swiftmas ♱ heyyy.... so this is super late😬. I am now on break so hopefully the future ones will be on time💋

summary ♱ working at a daycare has its perks, a big one being a certain single dad.

warnings ♱ awkward flirting, my lack of understanding how daycares are run, ooc aaron probably cause I haven't watched this show in forever

swiftmas ♱ navigation ♱ follow my library account @baysfics to see when I post!

loud. if you had to use one word to describe your job it would be loud. you of course loved your work, but being completely overwhelmed has become a normal thing.

the end of the day was always the hardest. trying to gather all of the kids items, putting shoes on, getting through checkout, and cleaning up afterwards.

one little boy in particular however made your job a bit easier. Jack Hotchner, an adorable three year old, was polite, well behaved, and sweet. his father, aaron hotchner, was serious but seemed nice.

all you new about him was he worked a lot, and rarely was the one to pick jack up. 90% of the time it was his aunt to come pick him up.

but today was different. when your coworker said jacks parent was here for pickup you help his little winter coat on and backpack and walked with him to the front desk for checkout.

there stood arron, dressed in his usual black suit. his jet black hair was shiny and put together like always. his blank almost cold expression shifted to a much happier one when he saw jack running towards him.

the little boy hugged his father's legs in greeting, receiving a hug in return. you smile as you walk up to aaron and pass him the drawing jack made in class today.

"jack wanted to make sure u gave this to you," aaron smiles softly and takes it, looking over the two little stick figures playing in the snow, representing them.

he glances back up at you, nodding once at you, "thank you. youre jacks main teacher, correct?"

his voice sounding so clear is surprising to you. the most you heard from him was a quiet goodmorning or bye. you would see him mutter words to jack, but they were only for jack to here. the fact he talked to you at all was completely out of the norm.

you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly realizing now that you have to speak directly to him how handsome he really is.

you smile softly and nod, "yes, I am." you realize too late how awkward you sound.

he nods, reaching out his hand to shake yours, "jack talks about you a lot. you seem to be his favorite here."

your heart swells at that, knowing jack was your favorite too. your heart also skips a beat at the feeling of shaking his hand. his skin is rough, yet his touch is gentle.

"thats so sweet. he brings you up a ton too." your hand drops back to your side and you fiddle with your jeans, suddenly feeling very flustered, a butterfly party happening in your tummy.

he smiles, a bit brighter now. he picks up his son, who is growing more and more tired by the second. he glances away before meeting your eyes again. "I uh, I appreciate all you do for my son. I work a lot out of state so, knowing my son has a good place to go is uh, comforting."

your smile widens, and you chuckle softly, "it my pleasure. he's a great kid."

you both continue to hold eye contact, your breathing calming a bit. he has kind eyes. tired ones, yes, but kind. he finally breaks the little bit of silence by clearing his throat, glancing down.

"well uh, we should be heading out. thank you again." before you can speak again he walks out, son in his arms.

even after he has disappeared from your eye site, you continue to stand and tare at where he was. you almost feel giddy, like a teenager who just met their new crush. you snap out of your daze when you realize you still need to help with checkout. you quickly get back to it, but can't help but thinking that everything has changed.

[irisintheafterglow]

Lavender Haze (pro!bakugo katsuki x you)

summary: your relationship with dynamight had just gone public, and you need a little verbal affirmation that you two will make it out okay

word count: 1k

cw/tags: very mild angst/comfort, mostly just affectionate katsuki fluff, swearing/profanity wouldn't be a bakugo fic without it, suggestive if you squint, reader is also a pro hero, pet names (babe, stupid, dumbass)

note: i love writing stubborn katsuki banter with an equally stubborn reader who's just used to his antics. domestic katsuki just makes me adhfsjfdfjsgjk, yk? enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!

You heard the key turn in the door down the hallway and finally put down your phone after scrolling through Twitter for hours. They’d been particularly ruthless today, ripping into your relationship and theorizing that he didn’t even love you. The room was dark and the thought of faking sleep crossed your mind, but you knew he’d sense you were still awake. So, you wait for him to slip off his gauntlets and tug off his boots and find you in your shared bedroom. 

“Babe?”

“Here, Kats.” He lays down beside you, and you’re so mentally exhausted that you don’t even scold him for slipping into bed dirty from patrol. You let him pull you into his arms and inhale deeply against his chest.

“Why are you still awake?”

“Was waiting for you to come home.”

“Bullshit. You fall asleep hours before I’m off shift.”

“Maybe tonight’s just different, then.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s different?” 

“Do I need to?”

“Yeah, you’re starting to worry me.” 

“I’m just… scared.” His body tenses around you, scarlet eyes searching your face with concern. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“Nothing happened, not yet, at least. I’m just…”

He thinks for a moment, and you can’t help but stare in wonder at how beautiful he is when the gears in his brain turn. “They’re getting to you again.”

“How did you know?” Of course, he figured it out; he always seemed to be able to know exactly what you were thinking and verbalize it in a way that you couldn’t. 

“Because I love you, stupid, and I know your mind like it was my own.”

“They just, they think I’m using you, Kats, or that I don’t love you, or that this is all a PR stunt by my agency–” Your voice starts to shake on its own, and you push back against the frustration welling up in your eyes. 

“Your manager isn’t smart enough to do that.” A finger comes down to brush a stray hair from your face as you glare up at him. He’d been wanting you to hire a new manager for months or simply merge with his agency, but you wanted the social media firestorm to die down first before any big public moves. 

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“Not the point.”

“You need to stop reading through Twitter, baby. You really trust some assholes on the Internet over the man of your dreams?” He smirks down at you and draws spirals on your shoulder with his fingers, leaving tingling sensations in their wake. He knew just how to make you feel better, and it was one of your favorite things about him. The way he balanced crude humor with reassurances that you needed and small acts of affection distracted your brain from spiraling any further.  

“Okay, man of my dreams, I get it. Could you just say it?” He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip absentmindedly. 

“Say what?”

“You know, the thing. Please.”

“Oh, right.” Understanding washed over his face, and you caught a little bit of underlying impatience that made you feel a little guilty for asking. 

“Did you forget?”

“Of course not. I just wish I didn’t have to keep telling you that I’m not going to leave you because of some fuckfaces on the Internet making up rumors. I trust you, you trust me, and no one else’s bullshit matters.” He shrugs a toned shoulder and returns to dragging his fingers over your body, running his hands in the creases and dips that he’s memorized on you. 

You roll your eyes. His encouragement was effective, but you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the expletives thrown into this round of verbal affirmation. “That’s more aggressive than last time, Kats.”

“It’s an upgrade,” he grins, gently squeezing the flesh around your hips. He got more handsy when he was deliriously satisfied, not that you were complaining. “Next time you get anxious that I’d do something stupid like break up with you, I’m gonna tell Shoto to buy Twitter and ban you from it.” 

“Bold of you to assume he would listen to anything you say.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know where he and his entire family lives,” he whispers innocently, pressing his lips to your forehead. His fingers brush up and down the sides of your neck and shoulders, sending chills running through your limbs. 

“Kats–”

“I’m kidding…” He drawls and flashes a cruel grin. “Kinda.” 

“Okay, high school asshole Katsuki, get out of my bed and shower. You’re all sweaty and sticky and yuck.” You push against his chest to no avail. 

He pouts, grabbing hold of your wrists and having you pinned against your bed in one fluid motion. “I thought you loved it when I was sweaty and sticky and yuck.” Strands of blonde hair fall onto his forehead and brush against yours as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. He’d never looked so beautiful.

“Not when I’m trying to sleep.”

He pulls back abruptly, looking at you skeptically. “You weren’t trying to sleep shit, babe.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does spiraling over idiots on a stupid fucking bird app.” Fortunately, your body’s awareness of Katsuki’s hands had put the hate tweets you read in the furthest corner of your mind.

“You made your point, like, three points ago.”

His head dips back down to kiss a trail down your collarbone. “Yeah, but sometimes your dumb ass doesn’t listen.”

“You can’t resist this dumb ass.”

He bites down gently where your shoulder meets your neck and you jump, his chuckle buzzing against your skin. “Nope. It’s a plague.” Any more of his body on yours was set to be a disaster, so you attempt to halt his advances before you’re further entangled with each other. 

“Take a shower, Kats.”

He leaves one more chaste kiss on your nose. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You sigh and wait for him to release your wrists, but he gives you a pointed look like you’d responded incorrectly. 

“I. Love. You.” God, he’s such a brat. 

You press a kiss up to his forehead and he closes his eyes in contentment. “I love you more.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Jealous Ex!Katsuki x Fem!Reader

A/N: this is totally not based off of how i wish my ex acted when i had a creep hitting on me ha.

MDNI - SMUT BELOW CUT.

WARNINGS: ANGST/COMFORT, SLEAZY CREEP, HURT, UNPROTECTED SEX, RECONCILIATION SEX, DRUNK SEX

-

It’s been six months. And I’m one drink down for every month since he left me. So I really shouldn’t feel as sick as I do when a random wraps their arm around my waist.

He tugs me into his scrawny, shirtless figure and my stomach lurches.

Everything smells of stale cigarette smoke. 

This is wrong.

Gently I push the stranger off, wandering back towards the bar. A tired smile from the bartender greets me.

“Hi lovely,” I smile, jumping up on the barstool.

“What can I do for you babes?” The small person hums, mousy hair flopping across their face.

“Can you make me another one of those yummy cocktails? Y’know, the one with the fireball and the-” I start, leaning inwards.

“The one that tastes like autumn?” They finish, a knowing smile.

“Yes!” I can feel my head slosh as I nod. Maybe I’m more tipsy than I thought. 

Unwanted arms twist around my waist yet again.

“Hey pretty,” Unkempt long hair tickles my shoulder. Hot breath on my neck. 

“I’m gonna go back to dancing,” I excuse myself, untangling us. Clutching my drink, I weave in and out of the crowd. The warmth is more uncomfortable than it was before, sticky and clammy.

A pain in my shoulder, my drink wasted on myself and the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” I start, embarrassment heating my cheeks.

“Hey, watch where you’re-” A voice, so familiar it hurts. Low, and consistently gravelly.

“y/n.” Shock changes his tone. Aggression turns soft. My heart squeezes.

Six months.

Six months and I’m still so undeniably in love with Bakugou Katsuki it hurts me.

“Hi,” I mumble, eyes trained on my hands.

He clears his throat and my eyes can’t help but follow the noise. 

Rubies.

I always said his eyes were rubies.

Not the blood of his enemies, like Kaminari so often joked.

Rubies.

Warmth and pain mixes inside of me, and I find myself biting my tongue.

I love you.

It would be so easy to say.

“Aww did you spill ya drink pretty? ‘S okay, I’ll get you another one.” Cigarette overtakes my smell and I do everything not to gag.

“Um, I’m actually gonna head home.” Shaking the man off yet again, I go to turn around.

“Ooh, ready for some fun are we? Lead the way, beautiful.” Hands around my waist, and my throat closes.

“No.” I shake my head, squirming out of his arms yet again.

“Aww, but baby” His arms are tighter this time, face nuzzled into my neck.

“Oi, she told you to fuck off.” Katsuki steps forward, and I go to turn my head.

“Ha, you’re just jealous that I’m gonna get somma this tonight.” Wet warmth trails up my neck and I cringe away.

Stifling hold is suddenly tugged away.

“She’s not interested, dickhead. Now fuck off before I make you.” Katsuki’s voice is grim, fearless. All I can focus on is wiping the saliva off my neck.

“Fuckin fine. She’s not that cute anyway.” I hear a huff becoming more and more distant.  

Another arm. New, but old; drapes across my shoulders.

“Gonna walk you home to make sure no more creeps try’nd attack you.” Katsuki mumbles, gently guiding me through the crowd.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

The outside air is cold, drawing me closer to the man’s core heat. Small sparks on my shoulder act as a radiator.

The walk is quiet, and my head swims too much to understand if its comfortable or uncomfortable. 

Only when we reach my apartment, does his warm arm leave me. 

As if it’s muscle memory, he lifts up the pot plant; grabbing the spare key and letting us in. Kicking off my shoes, I wander towards the next best warmth I can get.

My bed is cushy, a welcome comfort.

Katsuki enters not too long after, water and toast in hand.

“You need to eat before you sleep,” He says, plopping down next to me.

Rubies, full of warmth.

“Why are you being so nice?” I mumble, eyes stinging.

I miss this. I miss him.

“Cause I fucked up,” He whispers.

“What did you do this time, Bakugou?” I sigh, picking up the glass.

“I hurt someone because I didn’t want them to hurt me first.”

My heart hitches.

“But then I realised that all I did was hurt both of us, for no goddamn reason.”  The water splashes against the sides of the glass as I tremble uncontrollably.

“She won’t even say my name anymore.” The grief is heavy in his voice, breaking it gently. And I can’t hold back my tears.

“You said you didn’t love me anymore,” My voice warbles past the lump in my throat.

“I knew you could do better,” He mumbles, picking at the duvet he helped me choose.

“I don’t want better!” I cry, gripping the glass.

“I want you.” Glancing over, I can’t help but stare.

Bakugo Katsuki does not cry.

Yet diamonds fall from rubies.

“Then be mine again. Please.” He whispers, voice catching. 

And all I can do is nod.

Coolness of glass leaves my hands. Warmth cradles my cheeks.

“Thank you baby,” His lips meet mine, and I’m home. 

Home tastes like cheap cola from the bar. 

Home is our teeth clashing as we smile through tears and kisses. 

Home is my fingers twisting through staticy blond.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper against his jaw.

“Missed you more.” Strong arms pull me effortlessly into his lap. His hands stay on my hips, tracing gentle circles.

“Lemme show you how much I missed you.” Katsuki asks, tugging me impossibly closer. Kisses tickle down my neck, and my entire body floods with adoration.

“Please,” I nuzzle into his hair, savouring the closeness. I jerk my neck away as he gently bites exactly where he knows I hate.

“Katsuki,” I whine, shoving his face away. A warm chuckle reverberates through his chest. The sound is contagious, making bubbles in my chest.

“You’re an ass,” I bite back my smile, gentling pushing him further.

“Yeah, but I’m your ass.” He mumbles, pulling me back in. Arms push me down, feeling him grow beneath me.

My body clenches excitedly, as familiar hands start tracing up my stomach.

“Take this stupid thing off,” His voice vibrates against my neck, as he tugs at the hem of my top.

“Hm,” I muse loudly, deciding to have some fun. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You little shit,” He growls fondly, pushing the top up as his hands wander further. A gentle squeeze to my breasts is all I need to continue my attack on his jaw.

“But I’m your little shit,” I mock inbetween kisses. I feel his jaw clench beneath my touch.

“Alright, thats it.” He huffs, wrapping an arm around my waist.

Suddenly, I’m off his lap; the bed bouncing at my sudden shift in weight. The bubbles in my chest build until they burst into a fit of giggles.

“There’s my pretty woman,” Katsuki smiles, eyes soft. Gently, he fully removes my top. And then his own.

The warmth of skin on skin is a comfort I’ve missed oh so much. 

Obviously, Katsuki missed it just as much; face disappearing into the valley between my breasts. 

Soft kisses leave pins and needles, and I reach for his hand. In an instant, our fingers are interlocked.

Like he never left.

I revel in the moment, using my free hand to trace patterns on his shoulders.

Small sparks greet my skin as his other hand massages my thigh. I feel myself dampen at the closeness - leaning into his touch.

“You sure you want this pretty woman? You’re still tipsy,” Its so odd, hearing such soft words from such a hardened, aggressive man. 

“Please, Kats” I breathe, moving my hand to his hair. A hum of agreement, and his loving assault continues.

I keep tracing patterns, unintentionally digging down as his hands get close to where I want them - no - need them to be.

A ghost of a touch, and I’m pushing myself up to meet him.

“Missed me that bad, did we?” He scoffs in amusement, fingers circling my clothed clit.

“Like you’re one to talk,” I mumble, cheeks heating. Softly grinding on me, my breath hitches.

“Sorry baby, but I’m not waiting anymore,” He whispers, pulling my panties off; his boxers following suit.

Rubies bore into me, sparkling with adoration.

And suddenly, pain and pleasure all in one.

“C’mon, you’re okay. You can take it.” Katsuki praises as he thrusts in. I blink through watery eyes, nodding.

The movement is slow at first, just until the pain falls away. 

Then, its relentless. 

The sound of skin on skin echoes through my small apartment, going at an unholy speed. My toes scrunch as I’m sent into ecstasy.

“See how much I missed you?” Hands grasp my hair, moving my head to the side to leave kiss after kiss.

“See how much I love you?” He grunts into my neck, suckling right near my jaw. Words fail, leaving me only able to whimper in response.

“Yeah that’s right,” He whispers to me, fastening his pace. More whines bubble past my lips.

“Love you so much, never gonna leave again, you hear that?” His words a near hiss, nipping my neck gently.

“Kats, kats, please,” I beg, gripping onto him for dear life. My stomach coils, and I don’t know how long I’ll last.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” He encourages, pushing deeper, faster.

I break, legs spasming as I gush.

But Kastuki doesn’t stop.

Instead, he pushes my ankles up near my ears - keeping his relentless pace. Tears spill over my cheeks at the overstimulation.

“Just a little longer, okay?” He promises, hot breath painting my thighs. I nod frantically, practically melting into the bed.

But the coil tightens again, and I can’t help but squirm.

“Come on, together this time. Where do you want me?” Katsuki asks, somehow pumping harder.

“Inside,” I croak through tears. It’s too much.

An eyebrow raises.

“You wan’t me to make you a mama, that it?” He huffs, beads of crystalline sweat coating his brow.

“Mhm,” I whine, clenching at the thought.

“Fuck, y/n.” He grunts, burying himself into me.

Warmth floods me, and my blond lover collapses ontop of me.

“Love you so much, Katsuki,” I whisper, tangling my hands through his hair. I press a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Love you more, dumbass.” He sighs, kissing wherever he can reach. 

-BONUS-

“I guess this means you’re reinvited to Tsu and ‘Chako’s wedding.” I hum, scratching his head.

“The fuck you mean ‘reinvited’?” Katsuki snarls sleepily, nuzzling into my neck.

“Honey, you were my plus one. You never got your own invite,” I gently remind him, amusement tickling my insides.

“What cunts.” He grumbles, pulling me close.

“Katsuki!”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Do it for Us | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Mr. Jeon has got your mind all mixed up and you don't have the strength left to say no. Pairing: fem!reader x Father in Law Jungkook Word Count: 2.3k Warning: Yändere sumt, manipulation into cheating, suggestive and explicit language and an excessive amount of crying lol a/n: This is part two of Do it for Him requested by @coralmusicblaze I hope you guys end up liking it! I got so many new followers and notes after the first part so thank you so much!

As my lips move against his I can't help but let the tears continue to fall. "It's okay love, there's no need to cry" he says pulling back a bit and brushing a few of them off my cheek while studying my features. "I wish you wouldn't cry but you really do look gorgeous when you do, I'll have you crying for other reasons soon though, don't worry" he says caressing the side of my face before taking my hand and leading me out of the room. My whole body cringes at his words but I follow him blindly nonetheless. The tears never ceasing while my heart breaks with every step we take. 

Crossing the doorway into the bedroom I share with my husband I stop dead in my tracks, the guilt overcoming me, the gravity of what I'm about to do finally sinking in. "Mr. Jeon I don't want to do this anymore" I say trying to wipe the tears off of my face, proving useless as they continue to fall evermore. "Darling we're already half way there, let me take care of you" he says turning back around to face me, closing the distance between us. 

He caresses my face again and laces his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, gaining a better hold on me to keep me in place. I reciprocate the kiss as best as I can but I can't stop the trembling of my lips, still so disappointed in myself. He pulls me in against him by my waist and walks us closer to the bed without parting from my lips. Once we do he softly guides me down onto the mattress, placing his hand on the small of my back, making sure I land softly. 

"You look so pretty laying there, being so good for me" he says while loosening his tie and throwing it on the bed beside me. "You know you're doing something amazing for our family right? My son will be so happy, finally giving everyone what we've always wanted. The child will be beautiful, just like their mother" he says while unbuttoning his dress shirt and taking it off, my eyes automatically tracing his figure, making me want to vomit once I've realized what I had done.

"Baby, eyes up here please" he coos sitting next to me on the bed encouraging me to look in his eyes. "Don't call me that" I say glaring up at him "and stop talking" I say sadness dissipating, irritation taking it's place. "Aw there she is, the brat I've always taken you for" he continues, still cooing at me despite my defiant nature. "I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you" he whispers in my ear as he gets on the bed hovering over me. 

"Play nice and I'll make this pleasurable for the both of us darling" he continues, tracing his hand down my figure, his fingers now coming in contact with my bare waist, my shirt having risen up a bit from when he had laid me down. I flinch at how cold his fingers are and he smirks knowingly. "I'm sorry angel, I'm sure you'll warm me up soon" he says and gets up to take off his belt, the clanking of the metal making me feel sick since I had heard that same sound just hours ago when I was with my husband, being in this same position. 

I can still smell his scent on the pillow next to me, the thought of him close helping me escape for only a moment before I feel the bed dip, signaling the presence of his father next to me. "Will you let me undress you?" he asks, his fingers trailing up my shirt and drawing circles on my waist. "I'll do it myself" I say getting up off the bed, giving my back to him and doing so as quickly as I can, wanting to finish this as soon as possible. 

I can feel his eyes following my every move before I feel his hands on my hips while he places kisses on the back of my shoulder "Gorgeous" he whispers in my ear, nose nudging into the side of my neck, taking in my sent. "I'm not doing this for indulgence Mr. Jeon, I'm doing this to take the pressure off my husband. That's it" I say feeling myself get slightly breathless feeling one of his hands rubbing over my stomach almost caressing it. 

"You're going to look so gorgeous when you're pregnant with my child. Watching you stomach swell day by day, knowing that it's mine. It'll drive me mad knowing that I won't be able to have you like this again" he says starting to kiss and bite on my skin. "No marks, he'll notice if I have new ones" I choke out and feel tears forming again, hating that I have to worry about something like that. I despise cheaters and I swore never to become one but I'm not doing this for myself, I'm doing it for him, for my husband and for our future. 

"They'll fade by the time he get's back love don't worry, and if they haven't I can make his time away last even longer if you would like me to" he says before biting down on my shoulder making me let out a moan that I wish I could take back. "There you go, keep making those pretty sounds for me" he says and places a kiss where he had just bitten to soothe the pain before guiding me to lie back down with little to no fight left in me.

I have small burst of it left but nowhere near as much as I need to stop this so I lay motionless and wait for him to finish getting undressed, his boxers the only item left on him. Once he takes them off he comes back to hover over me once more, trying to kiss me again but I turn my head away. "I don't think kissing is necessary Mr. Jeon" I choke out and I see him tilt his head to the side but ultimately agrees. "Too intimate for you? I understand, I can respect your boundaries" he says and settles on kissing my neck, setting my body and mind at odds. 

I try to hold back any noises I may make but it's impossible since the skin there is so sensitive and he seems to know it. "You don't have to hold back, you can be as loud as you want. No one will be able to hear you scream, it's a natural thing to do you know," he says trailing his fingers up my inner thigh "a way to thank the one that is giving you pleasure" he finishes using his hand, urging me too open my legs for him. 

He decides to slide back down on the bed and takes his time ravishing my body. "Been thinking about this for so long" he says looking down at my cunt which is already wet but not as much as he would like it to be. He sticks a finger in and watches as I whine softly "Aw this pretty cunt has already been fucked today hasn't it? You're still sensitive, I guess he has been treating you well" he says nuzzling his nose in against my clit leaving my body jolting at the contact. "But not as well as I can treat you" he says and licks a long stripe along my slit paying special attention to my clit. 

Although his kisses on it are tender and almost loving in a sick and twisted way it still drives me into over sensitivity. "Please" I whine more, hating the sound of my voice right now begging him to stop. "Please what Pretty?" he says looking up at me through his lashes. "Please just do it already I don't want this to go on longer than it has to" I say looking up at the ceiling, hating the sight of him between my legs like this. 

"Alright" he says sounding as if he's been denied something he's been craving for for so long. "But don't you think for a second that I won't be coming back here to eat that pretty little pussy the next time we do this" he says regaining his positing on top of me. 

"Next ti-" I start questioning but am cut off by my own moan as he shoves himself inside of me. "Fuck, you're still so fucking tight. One dick wasn't enough for you today sweetheart?" he taunts, brushing a hair off my face. "Shut up" I say through gritted teeth before he thrusts in harder this time. "What was that love? Couldn't hear that" he says clearly doing so in punishment for my disrespect. As if I could ever respect him after this. 

I stay silent and don't dare to make eye contact with him and angle my head up to the celling, closing my eyes trying to block everything out. "Fuck no wonder he wanted to marry you. Between your pretty little face and this addictive cunt I wouldn't dare to let you go either" he groans, prolonging my torture. "Stop saying things like that, please" I say blinking back the tears. 

"Why? You don't want to be reminded of the fact that you're cheating on your husband with his father? Is that it?" he ask and thrusts into me harder this time "Yes" I cry, tears falling again from all of the combined emotions and sensations he's giving me. "The deed is already done love, why not enjoy it?" he taunts, wanting me to give in to him and again, I'm losing the battle. 

He slows down his thrusts and changes them into something more sensual, more intimate. "Stop! Just go faster please, just finish already" I beg wanting to keep at least some form of intimacy left untouched by him. "If that's what you want" he says and picks up the pace again showing me no mercy anymore. "You like being fucked like this? Having your cunt ruined, leaving you sore, barely able to walk straight" he taunts and I cry out, feeling nothing but pain, the pleasure never enough to overcome the anguish I feel for betraying to only man I've ever loved. 

"Shit, are you close?" he questions a few minutes later, having kissed and sucked and bitten all over whatever parts of my body he can reach while inside me. "Yes" I lie, clenching around him purposefully. "Fuck do that again" he says his thrusts stuttering and I do as he asks. "Y/n look at me" he says using my name for the first time since we've started. "Say my name" he say holding himself back from his release. "Who is giving you this much pleasure?" he says sticking him fingers in my mouth for a moment, getting them wet enough so he can bring them down to play with my clit. 

"No please I don't want to" I sob, the pain getting to be too much for me. "Say it! Say it or I won't cum inside you" he say which brings my eyes snapping back over to his, scared to be denied what I had been searching for, the only reason I'm doing this. "I-" I start but he thrusts inside me harder again leaving my back arching off the bed and before I'm able to think twice I do as he says. "Jungkook! J-jungkook please, please just finish already" I yell sobbing from being so close and also begging for this to be over. 

"Look in my eyes and say my name again. Fuck-" he groans through gritted teeth and I look over at him eyes glossy from all of the mixed emotions I'm having. "J-jungkook" I sob one last time which has him cursing and thrusting in as hard as he can and a few seconds later he's stuffing me full of his release, finally getting what I wanted, the only thing I wanted. He lets out a chant that sounds like a slur of my name, the rest incoherent fucking himself into me to ride out his high, mine still on the edge not having tipped over. 

He pulls out of me, watching as he does so and sees some of his cum start dripping out of me. "Can't waste any of it now can we?" he says using his fingers to gather it up and stuff it back inside me. "You never came" he says brushing the hair out of my face after opting to sit next to me on the bed. I flinch at his motions, wanting to be as far away from him as possible now. "It's fine, just go" I say placing both of my hands over my eyes trying to get them to finally stop shedding tears. 

He reaches over and kisses my waist which again has me flinching, opening my eyes and snapping them back to him, surprised by the gesture "Ease your mind" he whispers,  "It's all over" he finishes and places one last kiss on my stomach. "See you soon" he says mumbles to my stomach, taunting me with the fact that I'll soon be carrying his child. "Get out!" I yell, picking up the first thing I find and throwing it at him, with him narrowly dodging it. 

"I'll come back tomorrow to see how you're doing since you won't let me take care of you now" he says and grabs his clothes and walks into the bathroom in the hallway to get dressed, but once he emerges I call out to him before he goes. "Jungkook" I say having him stopping in his tracks, coming back in and leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. "Not a word" I say while glaring, repulsed with everything about him. 

"Not a word, just trust me".   

Read the epilogue here I did it for You

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[delfiore]

—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

[softpine]

shows up extremely late to the @tricoufamily cas challenge with a half baked mafia concept like just hear me out guys hear me out....

dynamic: mentor/mentee genre: crime

sim 1: DONNA trait: boisterous hair color: platinum blonde hair length: medium extra: glasses

sim 2: CHIARRA trait: jealous hair color: dark brown hair length: extra long extra: freckles

i don't know a single goddamn thing about the mob, i've never even watched the sopranos ❗❗ now that we've gotten that out of the way

it's the late 80s, and chiarra (brunette) is fresh out of cosmetology school and looking for a job as a hair stylist. she ends up renting a booth at a salon on one condition: the property owner, a man with major ties to the mob, wants to take her on a date first. she's charmed by his charisma and loves how close he is with his family, something chiarra never had much of. within a year, the two are married and chiarra has ingratiated herself in the community, however she's quite unpopular with the other ladies. she's seen as a gold digger and an outsider because she didn't grow up in this life. but her job as a hair stylist is secured permanently thanks to her husband.

this is how she meets donna (blonde). donna is kind of a big fucking deal from what chiarra has heard through the grapevine, so she gets nervous and ends up badlyyy messing up her hair the first time she comes in to the salon. she's surprised to find that donna thinks it's hilarious – but she warns her that not everyone would've taken it so lightly, especially because chiarra's husband is not an incredibly influential person to begin with, unlike donna's husband who's like. the boss. but donna takes a liking to her, something the other wives find equal parts annoying and frightening.

through the early years of chiarra's marriage, donna acts as a mentor figure and a listening ear because she's been through it many years ago. but there comes a point where chiarra discovers her husband has been cheating on her, and she's shocked when donna waves it off as something that just sort of happens to all of them. chiarra becomes furious and refuses to accept this when she's been nothing but loyal to him. but instead of confronting her husband, possibly losing her marriage and the new family she's gained, she makes the decision to follow in his footsteps. she carries out secret affairs for a while; just one night stands and brief flings, so her husband won't get suspicious. donna finds it entertaining and turns it into a game, often covering for her. she's always been a gossip, so it's easy for her to keep an ear out for what people are saying about chiarra and deflect suspicion if she needs to.

one night, while their husbands are away, the wine starts flowing and the two of them just go for it. it's quick and they don't even particularly enjoy it because the guilt creeps in almost immediately. in decades of marriage, donna has never betrayed her husband no matter how many times he's done the same. and though chiarra is no stranger to stepping out of her marriage, she hasn't had romantic feelings for anyone but him since they've been together, let alone feelings for another woman.

donna and chiarra try to put some space between themselves, but they both know it's too little too late – and considering they've been inseparable since they met, their distance draws more suspicion than their closeness ever had. without donna there to protect her, chiarra is forced to realize just how disliked she is in her community, and how much donna had been doing to bolster her image. but she doesn't just want everything to go back to normal, she wants more than that. she's determined to make sure donna knows what she's missing out on, taking every opportunity to make her jealous and push her buttons.

this push and pull between them continues until donna learns that her husband has been arrested for racketeering and other crimes -- and it seems that the charges are actually going to stick this time. worst of all, the latest gossip is that chiarra had something to do with it. but is this just chiarra's bad reputation preceding her? would she really do something so dangerous and hurtful just to get donna back? and if it's true, what is donna going to do in retaliation?

thanks for reading my wattpad story :3 r&r plz xDD

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi there! I'm currently watching the original X men series to catch up to 97, and I'm in love with Gambit.

Would it be possible to ask for Remy and reader to be on a secret mission, and the Ole "make out so they don't suspect us" trope comes in, and gambit kinda (obviously) has feelings...?

It could be sfw or nsfw, either is perfect! Thank you for all that you do, I've been trying to find fics for the xmen for a while 🙏🙏

Kinda spicy! Gambit/GN!reader

YESS!! YESSSS!!! I legit had a dream about this situation with remy the day before you sent me this ask and I was cackling in joy when I saw this! I basically hyperfixated on it because I love this trope.

TWS: sexual themes n shit, no explicit smut. As always, reader written while picturing fem! but no specific pronouns mentioned. Semi-public making out and touching. Nipples be touched but size and type of breast not mentioned.

-Ps- reader can see heat signatures for plot purposes. I usually try to keep powers ambiguous but it was a NEED!

"In here, quick!" Remy's thick draw catches your attention, just before he yanks you into an alley. The two of you were in New Orleans, looking for a specific mutant Xavier wanted to talk to. The only downside was that Remy still had a warrant out for his arrest, and wanted posters plastered all over the city from bourbon Street to the garden district.

"Don't worry Cher. You said. NOPD 'dumber than a sack of rocks, you said!" You gripe at him. Remy laughs, tugging you around the corner. The alleyways on Burbon street are mostly private areas, owned and sealed off by the bars that line the storefronts- but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand. However, things had changed since he was here last. That became apperent when the two of you reach the end of the alleyway and there's a brand new brick wall, a dead end.

Remy curses and skids to a stop, causing you to slam into his back. You send him a dirty look as you whip around, eyes adjusting to the brick surroundings. It's hard to make out the figures of the cops through the walls of the busy bar in in front of you, too many people crowding the street for drinks even this late at night. You strain your eyes a bit, but are able to make out the stiff-shouldered men, heat signature slightly elevated from booking it after the two of you. Unfortunately, they're headed towards the mouth of the alleyway.

"Damnit." You mutter, turning back to Remy. He understands what you mean just by looking at your face. He hums, thinking for a moment before he begins to take out a playing card. You grab his arm to stop him, trying to ignore how warm his skin is against your own.

"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.

"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.

"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.

"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.

The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.

Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your breast. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.

"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.

"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.

"Then gambit thinks we should do this more often."

[teastainedprose]

Hi !

Can you do a Homelander x F!Reader with a blackmail situation ?

For the context, someone's blackmailing Reader to leave Homelander and because of the stress she did it when he was patrolling. Of course, Homelander wouldn't accept it and try to find her but he can't. So a few days later Vought brought him a new "girlfriend" to heal the pain Reader "created" only for them to (by mistake) imply that they are responsible for the departure of Reader. After dealing with the situation at Vought, he went looking for her again, eventually finding her at her favorite spot, where she was trying to forget Homelander.

You can change some parts if you want 😁

Thanks you if you do it ♥️❤️

Listen, Anon. LISTEN! I am grabbing you by the shoulders, I am gently shaking you, I am lovingly cupping your cheek and whispering, "Write the fic." - because it's clear that you've got the plot and I bet you've been daydreaming up the story route and I need you to write it. Spit out some bullet points. Scribble out a few scenes out of order, but write it!!

As I read this ask while rolling out of bed half awake and ran off in a slightly different direction while I brainstormed in the shower and I know you've got an idea there so WRITE IT!! So I can read it

Now have something similar, but not quite what you outlined. This kinda evolved into a companion/epilogue?? piece to Play With Fire, as Vought would have plenty of reason to not want Homelander dating a canned employee, especially if she's a fat little thing. Bad for the brand and all.

+1.5k words | Warning for violence/gore, Homelander can have a little murder. As a treat. Plus-Sized female reader, established relationship, no proofreading as I was possessed

The moment his boots drop onto the balcony and Homelander strides into the penthouse, he knows something is wrong.

First, there is the absence of you. Not just the lack of your body settled on the couch waiting for him as you often are, but everything you touched. The laptop you diligently type away at while working is gone. The vibrant throw pillows you insisted on getting to make the imposing couch more inviting are missing. The plush blanket you always coiled yourself into wasn't haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch as it always is when not in service. The lack of these items now makes the couch look barren and cold. Now Homelander can see how uninviting the whole thing looks.

There are other pieces of you missing as well. The trinkets and baubles you'd purchased on a whim and set about the penthouse, coloring the space with pieces of you. The discarded books, many with notes and dog-eared pages weren't haphazardly stuffed in strange places. Homelander would check the bedroom, but he knows the closet now has an empty space where your clothing hung.

There's a buzz starting up in his brain, an insistent worry that's setting his teeth on edge as Homelander's mind races across every possible reason why you're gone. You left him. Someone kidnapped you. You finally got tired of him. Someone stole you away. You hate him. Someone is hurting you. The buzzing grows in volume as Homelander's lip twitches up, feet taking him to pace across the floor before a movement in the corner of his eye cuts straight through the noise.

The buzzing goes silent. The colors are correct. Relief rushes over Homelander as he turns to face the figure in full. You, there you are and- 

No. Homelander blinks, drawing back a step as he takes in the woman standing at the entrance of his penthouse. She has your hair color; the cut has been styled like yours, but the texture is off. She's got something close to your complexion, your eye color even, and she's wearing clothing in your usual manner of dress, but everything is wrong. For one, she's thinner. Homelander sneers.

The woman smiles, uncertain as her heart races like a rabbit against her ribs. "Hi." One word uttered and it's all wrong. That's not your voice. That's not your smile. There is no sunshine breaking across this woman's face as she looks at Homelander. Her expression is quiet and expectant, waiting. Anxious.

He inhales slowly, rolling his neck as Homelander clenches his fists at his side. The scent on the air is bitter. She's afraid. She should be.

"No, no, no. Who the fuck are you?" Homelander snaps out, across the room in two long strides and now she's gasping. Gasping because Homelander has his fingers about her throat, gloves creaking softly as his grip tightens and lifts her. "Who the fuck are you?" He repeats, barking the words out.

"I-I'm Vicky," She stammers out as Homelander eases up enough to let her breath and set her feet back on the floor. That rabbit heart is trying to burst free within the woman's chest now, beating all the louder. "Y-your er, new girlfriend...?" Her words end in a panicked squeak as the woman tries to shrink away. 

"New- "Homelander cuts off as he stares at her, head tilted to the side and lip twitching as he digests this bit of information. He swallows and takes in a breath, reeling in his rage as his mind whirls. Vought had decided to replace you. Plucked up some stupid woman who only shares a similar color palette with you, but she isn't you. This woman is nowhere close to the beautiful creature you are.

Vought didn't approve of your secret relationship. They'd deemed you unmarketable. Not the image they wanted to project for the brand. Then there was the hope that Homelander would grow bored of you. To wait out his hyper-fixation on you. The months had crawled by and still Homelander kept you close. You'd moved in, burrowed yourself right into his life as Homelander wanted. 

For some fucking stupid reason, Vought thought a replacement would distract him. As if he's a child, or a dumb dog they've swapped a toy out on. 

"Vicky," Homelander smiles and it's the smile of a shark. All teeth and dead eyes. "How lovely," A purr now as Homelander slides his hand down her neck and brushes his thumb over her collarbone. Her smile is uncertain, but it's still there as she relaxes. The rabbit in her chest calms down. He digs his thumb in as Homelander sucks on his teeth.

Fucking idiot.

There's no warning when Homelander's fist buries itself into the woman's abdomen, only a wheezing hiss as the air is forced out of her. A wet sound follows under all that crunching and grinding of bone as Homelander twists his fist and pulls it back. He clicks his tongue, releasing the woman's corpse to topple across the floor.

Homelander exhales, puffing out his cheeks while looking down at his fist in mild disgust. The red leather hides fresh blood well, but he knows it'll congeal into a darker mess soon enough. Leaning over, he absently wipes it off on the fabric of the woman's sunshine colored dress. The sunshine would look better on you while the smeared red looks better on Vicky as far as Homelander is concerned.

It doesn’t take him long to hunt Ashley down, storming into her office with eyes flashing red. The only reason Homelander doesn’t fucking laser her in two is because she’s crying. Ashley is crying and blowing her nose into a tissue as she looks at Homelander, eyes filled with regret and tears. She’s grown fond of you, Homelander realizes and that’s reason enough not to cave her skull in. Homelander knows you like her well enough, too. Ashley blubbers the story out. They’d wanted you gone. Out of the picture and out of his life. You were an uncontrollable variable that refused to play ball and Edgar wasn’t one for loose strings. A replacement had already been found and was on her way earlier this morning. While Homelander was out on a mission, disposing of you had been easy enough. It only took thirty minutes to pack all of your things, revoke your access to the building and effectively lock you out. Ashley had managed a helping hand in the form of a plane ticket wherever you wished, knowing you no longer rented your own apartment after moving in with Homelander.

It had been a plot against you, he knows this now but why had you gone so willingly? Why weren’t you screaming outside of Vought Tower for him? Why did you take that plane ticket? Something rotten wriggles within Homelander’s heart. He knows he’s not an easy creature to live with and has worn your patience thin some days. The start of your relationship would have been considered rocky at best and there’s all that stalking he did that you still don’t know about. They gave you an out and you took it.

His trip to the airport is swift and no one would dare try to stop the Homelander as he seeks you out at your intended gate. Except you’re not there. You’ve not even checked in yet. He goes to your old apartment next, eyes scanning the building for your form. Your favorite restaurant is next. Then the place that makes your favorite tea. After that he’s hovering above the bookstore you’ve dragged him to. None of them contain you. Homelander is lost for a moment, mind frantic with worry now at where you could be. Then he remembers one of your favorite spots. A park close to where your old apartment is and it’s another place Homelander has been dragged to by you. This is a spot he enjoyed. It was quiet, even in such a bustling city. He always pretended it was a forest clearing you two were enjoying the peace of.

You’re there. Of course you are. You’re settled on a bench, head turned towards the trees as Homelander descends. “Sweetheart,” He growls. It comes out harsher than Homelander wants, but he’s on edge. Why did you leave him? 

You jump, head snapping round and he can see you’ve been crying. Your eyes are puffy, face pinched in pain as Homelander’s heart seizes at the sight. 

“What!?” You stare a beat, before anger rises. You’ve always been his little spitfire. “You had me cast out! They packed me up and kicked me out on your orders! You- You abandoned me…!” The fire smolders and dies as tears leak down your face.

"No, no, no. Not you, never you!" In an instant, all of Homelander's rage vanishes in the face of your sorrow. How could you ever want to leave his side? Foolish of him to even think it. Why would you ever want to leave? He’s beside you, he’s gathering you up in his arms, he’s crushing you gently in his hold. Your sobs are wet, loud, and there’s snot on his suit. Homelander doesn’t care. He shushes you, fingers combing through your hair as the arm about your middle squeezes just a bit tighter. The weight of you sinking against him and into him is a comfort, your flesh yielding under his grip on you.

“I came home and you were gone,” Homelander whispers against your ear as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply, all of the tension leaving his body as he takes in your scent. “But I’m here now. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He exhales, pulling back enough to look down at you. Homelander smiles. You’re here, you’re safe, he will never ever let you out of his sight again.

[gay-wh0re-slut]

I have a request...Dom!Rhea x Fem!reader in which the reader is caught masturbating and Rhea punishes her by causing many orgasms and overstimulating her

AAAYYYOOOO this is hot yall have some of THE best ideas i can’t thank yall enough for feeding into my slutty writing hehehe

i hope you enjoyyyyy

Wait

rhea x fem!reader

content: thinking about ur hot buff gf so you get busy by yourself but she catches you 😌 (masturbation, vibrator, oral, fingering, choking, strap, degradation and praise, super overstim and multi-gasms, slight sub!rhea)

Monday nights were always so lonely because Rhea was in a random city and you had no clue when she would be back home. The weeks she was gone felt like forever, luckily, sometimes she was only gone for a few days and was able to come back home for a day or two before flying off to somewhere new.

The two of you weren’t shy about sending some spicy pictures when you were alone in bed, the only rule was that it had to be over instagram so that they couldn’t be saved and potentially be leaked, for both of your sake.

Tonight, you were lying in your large bed that you shared with the wrestler, watching Monday Night Raw.

“Here in Orlando, Florida!” said the announcer.

You were grateful that she finally had a show in her home town so you knew she wasn’t far away. As the show went on, she was looking especially good tonight in her gear and makeup. The way her top accentuated everything just right, and her shorts were a little cheekier than normal. Her makeup was more eccentric than her normal purple eyes and her hair was thick with sweat from her match. The way she ran her hand through her hair as she stared down her opponent made you feel some type of way.

You didn’t notice you were constantly shifting and squirming in the bed until she finally pinned her challenger staring hungrily right into the camera. She threw the woman to the side and you couldn’t help but wish that you were the one being thrown around.

Finally giving into your cravings after the show ended, you send a sneak peek of your hand under the waistband of your pajamas shorts with the caption ‘you look so good tonight baby’.

She sends one back of her biting her lip, ‘you better wait until I get home’. You huffed at her response. You were getting more and more turned on as you thought of the many things she could do to you.

‘Hurry, please, I need you bad’ you sent her a pic of your hand out of your pants to prove you were waiting.

The next pic she sent was in her car, ‘don’t worry baby I’m coming’. Her makeup still on and her hair messy from her night. You loved her no matter what but you loved getting to mess up her makeup more than it already was; you also didn’t mind the black lipstick marks she would leave on you.

Although you knew she was coming home soon, you truly did try your best to keep from pleasuring yourself, but you couldn’t help it. You tried reading, you tried watching the show that came on after RAW, you tried every social media platform but everything reminded you of her and the ache you needed to soothe.

You felt a bit guilty but you did it anyway. You slipped your hand down and onto your throbbing center. Grazing your fingers over your folds, you felt how wet she made you without even being here. You started to gently draw small circles over your clit causing a small moan to come out. As you continued, you closed your eyes and imagined that it was her hand, pleasing you, making the pressure in your stomach rise, thinking about how she knew just what to do with you and how good she made you feel.

You were so immersed in this fantasy that you didn’t hear her come through the garage door calling for you, mainly because the TV was loud but you were so far gone already that it didn’t matter.

Unfortunately for you, you were making just enough noise to where she could figure out what you were doing before she walked into the bedroom.

You were going full force, your pace was fast but steady as you were arching your back, whining for the release. The pressure was close to its breaking point.

She crept into the bedroom watching you squirm under the covers until she could tell you were about to cum and she ripped the covers off of you, “What did I say?” she growled.

You screamed in shock, “SHIT!” you immediately pulled your hand out, “don’t do that! I thought you were a murderer!” you scrambled up onto the pillows muting the TV.

“You didn’t do as I said,” she stood over you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whined, “You just look soooo good tonight I couldn’t help it,” your center was aching for a release.

“You will definitely be sorry,” she said in a low voice before throwing off her tshirt and sweatpants revealing she still had her gear on.

“So you wanted me to take it off, huh?” you poked the bear.

Ignoring your question, “You couldn’t even wait for me to drive the thirty minutes to get here,” as she climbed on top of your straddling your hips.

“I’m so sor-”

“God you’re such a slut,” she put her hand over your mouth to stop you from saying anymore. “I was thinking in the car about all the things I could do to you…”

Your eyes were wide and your breathing was labored but you didn’t dare try to speak.

“…but you’ve just made it so easy for me,” her voice was deep and calm which scared you and turned you on at the same time. “Mmm,” she snapped the fingers of her free hand, “you were gonna be treated so well. I was going to take my time, really take my time, make you feel so good,” she leaned over you coming face to face with you, “but you don’t deserve the princess treatment,” she whispered.

If she barely grazed your core right now you’d be done for, immediately. She forcefully let go of your mouth as you took in a deep breath, still not saying anything.

“Since you want to be a whore,” she bent over you opening the drawer to the nightstand, “you’re gonna be treated like one,” and she pulled out the vibrator.

You knew you would be here for a while when she pulled that out. Your heart was in your ass but you couldn’t be more turned on. You gulped in response watching her situate herself on top of you to get the best position. Once she was comfy, with your legs spread and her kneeling in between them, she turned it on. It automatically starts at the lowest setting which you were grateful for. You were also grateful that she decided to keep your pajama shorts on…for now.

Placing the wand just barely on your already swollen clit, you immediately moaned at the touch.

“I’m gonna get you so close over and over until you’re crying to cum for me, then maybe I’ll let you,” the australian accent barked.

“Fuck,” you whined as she pushed it harder onto you, “p-please don’t,” you lied.

“If you listened in the first place, we wouldn’t be here,” as her free hand glided up your leg.

You were fisting the sheets below you, breathing heavily as you whimpered quietly. Because of the event prior to her walking in, you were already close so it didn’t take long for the familiar feeling to creep back up again. And she could tell too, your breath gets shallower and faster and your legs tense up just before.

She left her hand on your thigh, waiting for the signal and there it was. As soon as your legs twitched she pulled the machine away from you.

You growled in frustration, slamming your fists down.

“Aw, someone’s all worked up,” she mocked.

She let you catch your breath, eyeing her smirking devilishly at you. Once your legs became relaxed again, she placed the vibrator back onto you, with more pressure this time.

“Oh god,” you moaned, arching your back and the process started all over again.

Heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.

Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.

Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.

Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.

Your legs were shaking so badly now it was hard for her to determine if you were tensing or not so she decided to finally take off your shorts. As her tattooed hands peeled them off you, a pool of your wetness seeped out onto the bed below you.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” she smiled evilly, “all because you couldn’t listen,” she sighed dramatically.

“Please let me cum,” you whined, “I can’t do that anymore, please.”

“Don’t worry babygirl, you’ll get there,” she finally turned it off and set it aside. The wrestler easily scooted herself back towards the foot of the bed using your legs as leverage.

You groaned in response but it quickly turned into a moan when her tongue pressed against your wet folds. She lapped up as much as she could before she began to suck on your tired clit.

“mmmmRheaaa, please,” you breathed.

“You know the rules,” her voice was deep as she stared at you with those sapphire blue eyes.

One of her hands that was holding your legs open, moved to your entrance, asking to go in. Without much warning, she easily slipped two fingers inside of you slowly, letting you feel her the whole way.

Your back arched as soon as she did, slamming your eyes shut. “F-fuck,” you whined as she slowly began to pump in and out of you while her tongue continued to work. You could feel her smiling into you which drove you crazy.

Not too long after, your walls began to clench around her fingers and your legs tensed up once more, but in a matter of a second she pulled out and sat up.

“Fuck!” you yelled in frustration covering your face. Tears were forming under your hands but you didn’t want to let her see. You quickly wiped them away but avoided eye contact.

All she did was chuckle as she slinked off the bed. You didn’t want to know what she was doing because you were too upset so you closed your eyes and tried to drown out any noise.

After a few minutes you felt her climb back on top of you so you finally looked at her. “Damn it,” you sighed as you spotted the strap she had put on.

“Aw, come on now, princess. I thought you loved this,” she said mockingly.

“Yeah, when I’m not mad,” you shot back.

She immediately lunged forward and gripped around your neck with her hand, your eyes widened as you held onto her wrist trying to catch your breath.

Her eyes turned dark, “a slut like you should be grateful I’m even here to begin with,” she snarled. “You’ve been doing so well,” her eyes softened, “don’t fuck it up,” her voice was deep again. She held on a little longer to get her point across before she let go.

“I-I’m sorry,” you forced out, “I won’t.”

“Good girl,” she held out her hand, cupping it in front of your face, knowing she didn’t have to say anything for you to know what to do.

So you spit in her hand then watched her spread it over the strap. She readjusted herself to get it positioned just right. She basically folded you in half before leaning on her hands that landed beside your chest. Her thighs held your legs open as best she could. She looks down at your wet center as she guided in the fake dick.

“Oh god,” you gasped gripping onto her large biceps.

Ever so slowly, she watched it move in and out of you. Once she was satisfied with how it was going, she finally looked at you, “Since you’ve done soo good for me, I’ll let you cum…”

“Thank-”

“Over and over and over,” her thrusts became more frequent.

You groaned at her but didn’t want to make her more mad so you opted not to say anything. Her pace quickened and it didn’t take long for the pressure to build up again seeing how it had been there since the beginning.

Your nails dug into her arms as your legs began to shake again, your breath was leaving your lungs but you managed a quiet, “please.”

The black lipstick smiled devilishly at you, “do it,” she commanded.

And so you finally did. Your back arched as best it could, your legs shook vigorously, your hands slammed onto the bed, and you screamed in pleasure. You came so hard you were seeing stars.

Her hips kept plunging into you letting you ride it out but she had no plans of stopping there. In one swift movement, she pulled out, flipped you over, hiked your hips up and shoved it back into you.

“Holy fuck…yes,” you whined as she continued to wreck you.

She was gripping onto your hips, slamming you back into her, going as deep as possible. “Again,” was all she said.

After about a minute or so, the pressure was right back where it belonged. Hearing her labored breathing and small grunts helped you over the edge. The next one came unexpectedly but you didn’t mind and neither did she. You screamed once more as you bit down onto the sheets. Giving you a slap of satisfaction on your ass, you slid off the strap when she pushed you to the side.

She laid down next to you on her back and pointed at her hips, “sit.” When she was determined and in a mood she didn’t speak much, but she didn’t need to.

Weak and sweaty, you slowly sat yourself onto the dick. You grinded against her, feeling it swirl around inside you. You threw your head back, “mmmm,” as you leaned yourself on your hands that were stationed on her thighs.

She gripped your shirt that you forgot you had on and pulled you forward. She finally gave you a sloppy kiss, moaning into the sensation which sent shockwaves through your body. You loved hearing her. Letting go of the kiss, she held your hips and guided them up and down, making you bounce on the strap.

You tried to hold yourself up on your hands but you were too weak so you laid on top of her resting your head on her shoulder. You whined and moaned with every bounce into her neck.

“Mmmfuck…baby,” she breathed. This made you notice that she was getting off on this. You weren’t exactly sure how but you didn’t question it. Hearing her moan gave you a second wind, so you sat up, braced one hand on her thigh and cupped her face with the other, grinding and bouncing on the dick determining what she liked best.

As you rode her, the hand on her face moved to her neck and gripped as best it could but it wasn’t even close to her strength. She didn’t mind though because she moaned loudly at the feeling, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.

“God,” you growled, “you feel so good.”

She whimpered in response, and dug her nails into your hips.

Finally focusing back on yourself, you realized that the familiar knot was back. It wasn’t much longer until you released once more, doubling over her, shaking and crying out in pleasure.

And she followed soon after. “OH FUCK,” she screamed as she arched her back pushing her stomach into you. Her hands flew to your hair and back gripping and clawing their way through it. The two of you rode it out as long as possible.

You slowly got off of her and slumped beside her. You were both breathing heavily with your eyes closed taking in the moment. Neither of you could speak, you were so drained.

After a minute or two she slipped out of the strap and dropped it to the floor with a thud. “Was I too harsh?” she said weakly.

“Not at all,” you finally opened your eyes to look at her but she was already looking at you.

She gave you a sly smile, “so you liked the look tonight?”

“Ffffuck yes.”

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | 3

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This chapter was getting so hefty I had to cut it in half; the next chapter is so drama filled.

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 4

"Is this the smallest we can get her waist?"

You grimace as the seamstress pulls harder on the corset lacing, your hands trying to find some purchase underneath the boning to keep some breath in you.

"I think," you gasp out, pulling at the neckline where it digs into your chest, "that if we pull any tighter, I'll faint before I can make it down the aisle."

You intended for the words to come out dripping in irritation, sardonic, and cutting, but instead, they come out breathless. Behind you, the seamstress, an old woman who's probably made every dress in town for the past hundred years, chuckles before sticking a pin at the small of your back. 

"She is a beautiful girl," the seamstress says through a mouthful of pins, "it doesn't matter how small her waist is - it won't cancel the wedding." 

If only . You scowl at yourself in the mirror, skirts billowing out around you. You look ridiculous, your hair haphazardly piled on top of your head, the beginnings of a wedding dress pinned to you. You've been here for hours, stripped and measured, compiled and put back together. The heavy white brocade Mother picked out draped on you this way and that until she and the seamstress found it falling in a way they liked. 

Sweat beads and drips down your neck, the hair that's touching you is drenched. Mother comes behind you and wipes at your chest with a cloth.

"Why are you sweating so much?"

"It's hot underneath all of this fabric," you protest, fanning yourself with your hands. "I'm tired, my feet hurt and this is like torture." 

Mother studies your face, no doubt seeing the dark circles underneath your eyes. You know she's wondering what you're doing at night - if you had left the night before, but she doesn't say anything, her tongue sticks out just faintly from the corner of her mouth; a sign you know is her trying not to say anything.

The seamstress taps the back of your thigh as she stands, her back cracking from the struggle.

"Here you can sit on this stool. Careful - I don't need you sticking yourself and getting blood everywhere."

You lower yourself, knees aching from the scrapes and bruises you'd gotten the night before. You'd seen the way the seamstress and Mother looked at them when you had to strip down, saw the way their eyes cut to each other, and the way they bit their tongue. But you'd gotten them scampering across the new ship Uncle Henry had talked about. It had sailed into the port three days ago unexpectedly. Uncle Henry had been sick, Father said tense from his spot standing behind a dinner table; they'd needed to come back quickly for medical treatment. Maggie and Lily had offered to go see him, to take something to make him feel better but Mother had cut them off. 

The entire conversation had been odd to you - the way Mother had cut off Lily and Maggie's kindness so quickly, the way Father had gone right when he left the house that night, whispering that he was going to check on Uncle Henry when the doctor's house is left. You'd spent two nights in the house, watching for Ghost's figure to appear at the end of the street, a tell-tale sign that he was open to some conversation for the night. Last night you'd gotten tired of waiting to see Ghost and tired of trying to eavesdrop on a conversation between Mother and Father that never seemed to be coming.

Once night had laid across the village, dark and muffled, you'd pulled a pair of father's old paints and a worn-out tunic from underneath your bed - you'd smuggled them both with the pretense of stitching up a hole for Father. It'd been easier to leave since Mother's ultimatum - Lily had been moved into Maggie's room and no one questioned your coming and going. But you knew if anyone caught you in men's clothing, the questions would be too much. So you'd dressed quickly and shoved your hair down the back of the tunic to try to hide its length and crept down the trellis.

You'd expected it to be difficult, to creep onto the ship. But it had been empty, all the usual night watch lanterns extinguished as it rolled lazily in the bay waves. You didn't know much about ships, you'd never paid attention to Father and Uncle's ship talks like Maggie, but you could see the differences Uncle had been talking about. This one was much smaller and sleeker than the ships that were usually docked there. Creeping on had been easier too - it was nearly abandoned. 

You'd been hoping to overhear some drunken conversation, something that could give a hint to what was really going on with Uncle Henry, but no one was there. You'd tripped across a coiled rope, hidden in the deep shadows, and laid there, waiting for someone to hear and come shouting. But no one came. So you'd crept back home with more questions than answers. 

And this morning Father was gone, absent from his usual place of breakfast. In your whole life, you could only count on the days he was gone at sea for him to be absent from breakfast and once he'd started having enough people to sail in his place and could stay home, he'd never missed breakfast. Before you could snoop anymore, Mother had swept you out of the house and to the seamstress. 

While you sit, the seamstress runs a measuring tape down your arms, around your wrist, and elbows. She wraps it gently around your neck - each measurement committed to her memory, iron even in her old age. Finally, after running it down your spine and adding another needle, the sharp metal cold as it touches your skin, she tells you to stand up. Her fingers pull each piece of pinned fabric deftly off of you, the pin's edges barely scraping your skin as she strips you layer by layer until you're nearly naked again. 

Mother hands you your dress - a simple blue one made to easily come off for the seamstress, and you slip it over your head, fingers working at the laces at the front to tie it back together. You're almost finished tying when the church bell tolls, but it's not the hour. The three of you freeze, counting the out-of-time tolls.

One.

Two.

Three.

You hold your breath, waiting to see if it will toll again. Three tolls mean an emergency at the port but - 

Four .

- means a council meeting, an emergency execution. Execution without trial. Mother's hands rest on the door, and before the fourth toll is dissipated in the air, she pushes the door open and rushes out, leaving you in her wake. You thank the seamstress quickly and rush out after Mother. She's running, skirts bunched in her hands - something you've never seen her do. Even in the most tense moments, she's always walked calmly, a believer that overreaction can only make situations worse. The sight of her running towards the house twists something inside of you, and you take off after her, tripping slightly over the rough edge of your skirt, your hair whipping you in the face. 

You slam into the front door of your house, as it swings shut behind Mother - it sends a shockwave through your wrists. Inside it's a frenzy, the dining room looks as if it's exploded. You can just see Maggie holding Lily as men, men you recognize as members of the council scream across the table at each other, Father's booming voice - a voice you only remember hearing like this yelling at sailors who did something dangerous and once at you when he caught you trying to sneak onto his ships - shouts over all of them. But you can't make out what he's saying as you push through their bodies, reaching for Maggie and Lily across the war being waged across the dining table. 

Maggie pushes Lily to you; you grab her wrist and pull her out of the room, Maggie following closely behind. You shove Lily towards the steps, yelling at her to go upstairs. Her skirts sweep the stairs as she runs; you turn your attention to Maggie, her face so pale she looks ill.

"What is happening?" You ask Maggie, pulling her in towards the wall, far enough away from the dining room that the two of you can't be seen by the council but close enough to hear them.

"I don't know. They were all in the yard arguing with Father and when the bell tolled they all came in yelling at each other I don't-"

She's cut off by a roar from Father, finally louder than all the other men in the room.

"You will not come into my house and threaten me!"

You can never remember a time when your father yelled like that in your life. Not when he caught you smuggled away on one of his ships, not when Maggie pushed you from the second story down the stairs, not when you refused a marriage over and over. 

"Come on, we need to go upstairs," Maggie says, voice hoarse as she pushes you towards the staircase. You trip up it, falling up the stairs with Maggie until the two of you are crouched down at the top, peering down at the men in the front. For a moment, you flashback to the two of you being little, laying on your bellies to hear the conversations you were banished from.

Mother pushes past the two of you, not stopping to chastise the two of you for laying down at the top of the stairs. Her skirts fill the stairs as she rushes down; the men push out of the dining room and into the foyer. 

"He is my brother, and if you think I will condemn him to that bastard's sword you are wrong!"

"Bastard's sword?" Maggie whispers, shooting a look to you that you can't decipher. She goes to open her mouth again, but she's cut off by the front door slamming shut, and the tell-tale sound of Father's boots on the bottom of the stairs. Maggie's hands are on your back pushing you into your bedroom. The door shut behind the two of you before Father's steps breach the top of the stairs. 

Maggie whirls to you as the door shuts - eyes wide.

"Uncle Henry is being executed?"

"No," your voice stumbles, thinking of the sword in Ghost's hand, swinging down on Uncle Henry; Uncle Henry who used to pick you up swing you around, Uncle Henry who used to tell you you'd make a wonderful sailor.

"Why would he be being executed?" Your voice shakes in the stillness of the room while you cross the room and push open the window. "What could he have done that could warrant an execution?"

"It has to do with that ship," Maggie says, pacing around the room like a trapped cat. 

"It was empty last night," you admit, watching the men as they file out of your house, sweat beading off of them.

"What do you mean empty?"

"I," you pull back in the window as one of the men looks up at you, "I heard Mother and Father talking strangely about Uncle Henry and I was bored. Anyway, I snuck out to the ship last night and no one was there."

"There had to have been someone there." Maggie contests, hands wringing together.

"No - it was like a ghost ship."

You sink onto the bed, skin erupting in a clammy sweat. The house is silent - more silent than you've ever heard it before.

"You need to ask your friend not to do it."

A sliver of ice runs through your stomach and you freeze, hands pausing where they were picking at a loose thread in your skirt. You wait for just a pause too long before answering, your guilt bleeding through the cracks in the conversation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

When your eyes meet Maggie's, hers are sharp - sticking you to the bed so that you can't move. 

"I've seen you," she explains, "at night. You think no one can see you because it's dark outside, that no one is looking. But I am."

You rise, eyes never leaving hers, hands gripping the bedpost. Maggie's back is board straight, her hands folded nicely in front of her like she's not speaking about a secret that could ruin your life. 

"Why haven't you said anything yet?" You're breathless, mind already whirring to what you'll do when Mother and Father find out.

"I haven't needed to yet."

The unspoken words cut through the undercurrent: but I will when I need to .

"I can't change anything. He won't listen to me about this."

"He's our uncle ," Maggie pleads with you, crossing the room in two strides. "We have to try something."

A horrible thought flashes across your mind. 

"What could Uncle Henry have done to deserve this?" You wonder out loud. You know, by the way, Maggie looks into your eyes that she's thinking the same thing. Neither of you speaks out loud the horrible thought that he might deserve it.

Father left when the other council members did, and hadn't come home yet. Mother didn't tell any of you to go to bed that night, and you, Lily, and Maggie sat in front of the fireplace as the sunset. You wait until the street is empty before standing; Maggie keeps her attention on the fireplace, watching the way the fire pours across the logs. But Lily snaps to you.

"Where are you going?"

You ignore her as you tie your hair back.

She repeats herself, this time half standing from the chair she'd sat in for hours, but Maggie reaches over to her and presses on her shoulder to force her to sit down.

"I'll be back later Lily. You need to go to bed. It's late."

"I don't want to go to bed, I want-", her voice rises in pitch until Maggie cuts her off.

"Stop Lily. She's right - you need to go to bed."

But Lily doesn't listen. She follows you to the front door where you shrug on your cloak, a heavier one pulled out of the closet for the chill that's started cutting through the nights you spend with Ghost.

You leave her at the door before she can ask you another question.

The way to Ghost's is empty, but you can hear people talking around each corner - no doubt gossiping at the news of Uncle Henry's execution and what he could have done. No one but rapists and thieves had been executed in a long while; it turned your stomach to think of Uncle Henry committing such crimes. 

The dirt path to his house is cut up, fresh dirt turned over from horses coming back and forth all day. You think of Father coming out here today; did he beg Ghost for Uncle Henry's life?

That's the thought that sits with you when you rap on Ghost's door. He opens it before you can knock twice, his body filling the doorframe.

The words die in your throat. The skin around his eyes is sunken, the circles so dark they look black. He's slumped against the doorframe; you can only imagine the exhaustion he feels.

"If you are here to beg for his life you're wasting your breath. Your father already tried. It's done."

His voice is rough, ragged - like he's been yelling and arguing. And facing the pack of men who had been in your house today, he probably has been.

"I-I had been coming here to do that."

Ghost levels a look at you, one you've come to know means he's studying you, trying to think of the words to say back to you. But he doesn't say anything, just pushes himself away from the doorframe and walks back towards the inside. He leaves the door wide open for you, a silent invitation to come in.

So you follow him inside. It's warm, almost too warm, and small. The table sits in the middle of the room, with a fireplace on one side and a small kitchen on the other. There's a door in the back corner, his boots propped beside it. You look down at him and almost smile at the sight of his bare feet on the wooden floor. 

Ghost collapses into one of the chairs surrounding the table, a glass of something dark brown in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit across from him.

"You have to at least tell me what the charges are," you start, pulling the tie of your cloak around your neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of it choking you. "My mother and father refuse to say. They're scared that if they say what the charges are then they have to admit they're true."

Ghost studies the contents of his glass carefully, fingers tracing the rims. You don't want to push him; you've had enough late-night walks with him to know that if you do he'll leave. But your knee bounces all the same. When he finally speaks, the words are slow, measured. 

"Your Uncle got caught by one of the King's ships. They needed supplies, so they boarded your Uncle's ship and when they searched it they found people below deck. Mostly women. Your Uncle intended to take these women to some of our neighbors, and sell them off as slaves."

Your heart quickens - leaning forward you press your hands down on the table, it wobbles beneath you.

"You're lying to me."

"Ask your father about that."

It's like a bolt of lighting runs through you, the implications of his words. Ghost swirls his glass lazily - tired and you wonder if he's wanting you to go away so that he can drink it. 

"My father would know nothing about this." You know your father isn't perfect, but you can't imagine that he would know anything about Uncle Henry using slave ships. 

"And that's why he came here earlier to beg for me to make sure that your Uncle doesn't say anything about your father?" His voice is cutting as he pushes himself away from the table, glass in hand. He turns away from you and you watch as he pulls his mask down just enough to take a drink.

"My father-"

"Knew what your Uncle was doing and doesn't want to be put to death by my hands because that would bring even more shame on your family; it would ruin you and your sister's weddings."

The mask is askew when he turns back, the edge of a jagged scar on his right cheek peeks at you from the edge of the black fabric. Ghost doesn't speak to you as he pulls the curtain back from the window in his kitchen, eyes scanning the edge of the woods.

"You need to go home. No doubt some member of the council will be here again; the last thing your family wants is for you to be caught here with me."

"Ghost I-"

"Go. Home."

For the first time since you'd first caught him staring at you on the beach, a shiver of fear runs down your spine at the roughness in Ghost's voice, at the sharpness in his eyes. He notices the way you tense, the way you pull yourself back in your chair away from him, and his gaze softens. 

"I'm sorry I can't help you. But you need to go home."

He waits for you to move, his fingers poised on the front door, ready to open it for you. On weak knees, you push yourself up; you refuse to look at him as you pass, not wanting him to see the way your eyes water as you walk past. He pushes the door open for you; you feel his warmth as he steps closer to you as you walk through the threshold. 

Your foot hits the ground when Ghost calls your name lightly. You half turn towards him, enough to see the way his hands grip the door frame and you imagine the wood groaning beneath them.

"Yes, Ghost?"

You hear the sharp staccato of him swallowing once. 

"Don't watch tomorrow if you don't have to."

He doesn't wait for you to reply before he lets the door swing shut in your face. 

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