#i need a tag for her to be honest. i will not be shutting up for the foreseeable future

[caruliaa]

do you a ever listen to an artists music and are like “this is good but not enough to justify how often fans of this artist act as if theyre superior to fans of my fave artist”

[aspacewar]

I am,,, feeling so incredibly normal today, about my imaginary D&D dude and their train-wreck of a life

Sorry mutuals & followers I’m gonna be Worse than normal today I swear I’ll shut the fuck up soon

Need a separate blog for D&D shit honestly

[bowofbalance]

you don't have to answer this and I just want you to know I'm happy you have someone who cares enough to make you feel wanted and loved (because you are!). I don't know who they are but I'm happy they're making somebody happy <3

If things keep going as they have been, everyone following this blog will basically know everything about her soon (sorry in advance). Anyway thank you anon, I'm happy for myself too and I really truly hope that I'm making her feel the same way too. Everyone deserves to feel wanted and welcome and safe and loved and happy and all those other warm and fuzzy things.

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You���ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[nereidprinc3ss]

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 

He circles to the foot of the bed. 

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 

“I like hearing you say yes.” 

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 

“Yes, you can take them off.” 

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 

“My attitude is your fault.” 

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 

“Spencer,” you grit. 

He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

Another kiss. 

“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 

“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 

“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 

“Oh, do I?” 

[mattsfavoritestar]

< back_2_matt_masterlist

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, matt sturniolo

synopsis… matt finally decided to be a true frat boy and do a one night stand. unfortunately for him, he didn’t know addicting you were which turned that one night to nearly every night

warnings… fratboy!matt, collagestudent!reader, mentions of alcohol and drug usage, kinda pussydrunk!matt, kinda obsessive!matt, mentions of fratboy!chris, p in v (HOORAY HE PULLS OUT), overstimulation

matt didn’t even want to join a frat sorority house, he was just following chris. yes, he did participate in the parties sometimes and he’s gotten high once or twice. matt isn’t a prude but he likes to think that he has morals. which is why he’s most likely the only guy in the frat house who doesn’t do regular hook ups.

“bro you gotta catch an ass or something, this life your living is boring as shit” chris laughs. both brothers had heavy red eyes as they sat at the couch in a random party they found themselves in. yet again, matt followed chris. matt licked his dry lips then shook his head. he looked around the party at all the collage girls in their skimpiest outfits, drunk off their asses.

“alright how bout this,” he says as he looks at chris, “next girl to walk in, i’ll take her home” he offers. chris laughs at his proposal as he tags a drag from the nearly finished blunt. they kept an eye on the door, waiting for someone, anyone to walk in. then you did.

“can’t back out now” chris smirks.

you rolled your eyes with a groan as you heard a ring from your phone again. you didn’t even have to look at the caller id to know who it was. matt sturniolo. for the past three days since that party, he’s been hot on your trail. it was like you couldn’t go a day without hearing from him.

you pick up the phone, “yes matthew.” you sigh. you heard shuffling then heavy breathing. “come over baby please- i need you” he moaned. you could hear him shamelessly stroking himself through the speaker.

“matt i have a test in the morning-“

“please- fuck- i’ll drive you to class tomorrow”

you decided to cave in and close your laptop. what’s one more day? you grabbed your school bag and an overnight bag then packed up your stuff. “tell one of the boys to leave the door unlocked” you say before hanging up. you walked out your dorm as quiet as possible, trying not to wake your roommates up.

“one more- just one more f’me” he sighed as he rolled his hips. matt was leaning over you with his legs trapping you between them. he had his hands on your waist with a tight grip as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he’d let go. you were drowning in your own moans as your nails dragged down his back. “just can’t get enough of this pussy” he moans.

you couldn’t tell if he was being honest this time granted the last three rounds. you looked at matt through your glossed eyes. his head was thrown back with his eyes squeezed shut. you shook your head as you felt yet another orgasm being forced out of you. “m-matt i can’t!” you whined.

“c’mon baby just give it t’me” he mutters. you felt your legs shake as you released for the fourth time tonight. matt hissed as he felt his own getting ready to spill out. he didn’t want to pull out. but he also didn’t want to give you something that you weren’t ready for.

finally, he pulls out as ropes of his seed painted your stomach. matt looked at you with a smile as he tried catching his breath. your face was flushed with your hair slightly sticking to your forehead from sweat. “can i take a picture?” he asked as he reached for his phone. you weakly threw a pillow at him as he lets out a small laugh.

“matt”

“matt”

“matt!”

“what chris” matt grumbled. he wasn’t even looking at chris when he answered, he was looking at you. “kid what the fuck is up with you lately” chris questioned. for the past two weeks, matt has been leaving the house way more and skipping out on hanging out with the guys.

matt didn’t even acknowledge his question. he was too busy staring at the guy who you were giggling with. his nose was flared and his eyes were holding a harsh glare. “holy shit kid, she’s got you tied down” chris laughs. matt lets out a much needed breath of air before finally turned to chris.

he crosses his arms then leans back to the wall. “there’s some shit going on later right?” matt asks. chris nods, “and our favorite friend is gonna be there” he smirks. matt knew he was referring to the well known dealer. he closed his eyes but quickly shot them open as images of you flashed across his mind.

“where the fuck am i?” matt grumbles as he nearly trips over his own feet. he pulls his phone out his pocket and winces at the brightness as it turns on. matt was completely out of it and a whole three blocks away from the party he was supposed to be at.

it was half past midnight, and matt was high and drunk of whatever bullshit he got his hands on. he noticed familiar street lights in his surroundings then allowed his feet to take him towards the memorized direction. the common dorms were a street away. your dorm was a street away.

matt stumbled as he found himself in front of the door where your dorm laid behind. he tried to call your phone as quick as possible before nearly dropping it. “matt?” he heard your tired voice say. a lopsided smile found it way to his face.

“i’m o-outside” he slurred. shuffling and a deep sigh was heard from the other side before hearing the door open. “stay there okay? i’m coming” you tell him. matt did exactly as you said and waited for you to come get him.

his smile slightly dropped when hearing the call end but it quickly came back as soon as he saw your face when the door opened. he stumbled forward and pulled you into a messy kiss. you pushed him away slightly then steadied him with your hands on his forearms.

“your eyes are really red and you taste like vodka” you stated. he wasn’t even listening to your complaints as he admired your features. you rolled your eyes then pulled him inside. he trialed behind you like a lost puppy as you took him back to your dorm as quiet as possible.

as soon as your door was shut, matt tried kissing you again. you stopped him with a hand on his chest then pushed him back onto your bed. “does anyone know that you’re here?” you ask him. matt shakes his head with that dopey smile still stuck on his face.

“they’ll probably come to find me soon” he says. you bit your lip as you cautiously walk closer to him and stand between his legs. you felt his hands trail up to your waist then rest it there as if they belonged. “we aren’t doing anything tonight, okay?” you tell him.

matt sighs as he lets his head drop down to your stomach. “look what you’ve done to me” he whispers. he groans as you run your fingers through his hair. “go lay down, i gotta finish this paper” you tell him before kissing the top of his head.

[hintsofhoney]

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously. 

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?” 

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him. 

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. 

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair. 

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent. 

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong. 

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —” 

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her. 

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt. 

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?” 

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her. 

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist. 

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time. 

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.” 

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.” 

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest. 

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers. 

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.” 

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true. 

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him. 

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. 

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out. 

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress. 

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there. 

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.” 

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.” 

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it. 

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 1 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji

Length: 3128 words

Tags: backstory, sex as payment, degradation, all things blowjob: face fuck, deep throat, gagging, chocking, throat bulging, rough face sex, training, passive hand job, master/daddy kink, desperate_trainee!Minji

TW: Minji is selling herself here kinda (oh no)

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing this crazy series with me. Mad lad!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: Hey you! I know you're reading this. Get ready for your favorite girls to get defiled one-by-one. Goon or go (or something like that, sounded cooler in my head). For everyone else, have fun!)

"Huh? Minji? What are you doing here?" 

Kazuha asks, surprised to see the still-trainee on this floor of the HYBE building, knocking on an unoccupied training room that she has nothing to do with usually.

"I-I came here to ask you about something,” the younger stutters. “I heard you were personally selected for LE SSERAFIM—and that there is some backer for your success. Even th-the group's scandal went away without a hitch. 

“Who is helping you, who is he?"

"What are you talking about?" Kazuha responds, face in scrunches. 

"I know that you know, Unnie," Minji says and catches the door before Kazuha can close it again. "I need answers, please. I-I've seen their plans, this is going to blow up, we'll be a failure, HYBE's loving stock.

"I can't fail this."

Kazuha looks at the determined young girl, her face loosening up a bit, turning from trying to defend her future spot at your side from a new rival to worrying for Minji. She curls her finger and Minji enters the otherwise empty training room.

"You have some dangerous knowledge," the Japanese woman then says. "Asking for this—I think you have no idea what you might get into."

"Doesn’t everyone say this about the industry?" Minji responds with wit and looks at Kazuha's sweaty body in the mirror. "Everyone always shares their doubts, from the moment you start. And now we are here, ready to debut. I know I have talent, but will it be enough?"

"You really want this, Minji?"

"Yes, Unnie, more than anything."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Why do you—"

"I'll give you his number." Kazuha sighs deeply, but nonetheless, her words have Minji in a delighted dance. "I'll tell him that you are good, so be good, be honest to him. I'm doing you a favor here."

"Thank you so much, Unnie!"

"But be careful: he is greedy, he wants more than you can imagine, so be ready to give him everything. And also—" 

Kazuha pinches Minji's chin, tilts it towards her piercing eyes and whispers in the most kind yet threatening voice: 

"Never try to get between him and me."

# 

"Oh my—your concept, these plans. They are fucking terrible. It's going to take a lot to salvage this, even you seem to know that, Minji." There is no need for you to hold back. If you think a plan is bad, you better tell someone before they fail. You’ve seen your fair share of bad plans, but not by HYBE and not to this extreme.

"I-I know. I tried to tell them, but the managers just shut me down.” Minji puts her arms back on her thighs. They were just dramatically cast into the air to get her point across, but the young girl saw your unimpressed gaze and quickly got professional again. “They are running us straight into a brick wall."

"I've seen many examples like this. A lot of companies think they can do no wrong, especially when a lot of time has passed since their latest failure." 

You give Minji her tablet back and rest your chin on one hand, the other tapping the giant desk before you. You are deep in thought, at least Minji should believe that. Instead you are looking into her eyes, mariana trenches of passion, hopefulness, determination. Minji has a pretty face, leadership qualities, all the skills of a superstar but most importantly, she has some thick lips that will be perfect for cock sucking. 

Okay, you are getting ahead of yourselves. The other big thing she has is the willingness to trade everything for her dream, for hope, maybe for fame too. She will give her dignity for glory—and you will make her do it right fucking now.

"This is a difficult case," you say slowly, watching her expression shift a bit, not yet gloomy but getting there. "Luckily, I and HYBE still have the time and resources to make your debut a success. People will talk about it for a long time. I can even guarantee you a music show win from the get go."

"Really? Oh my God, thank you so much, sir. You are way too kind." Minji jumps from her seat and takes a deep, formal bow. "I hope I can lay all of this in your hand?"

"You sure can, Minji, but you know this comes with a price, a hefty one at that. This cannot be solved with two phone calls and some convincing. Hell, I barely have any time." You stand up from your chair and look at the young woman, upper body still tilted but her huge eyes fixed on you, now you’re in front of her. You still dwarf her and she only now knows that she is completely outmatched and will pay up.

"I-I will give you everything, as soon as I can," she stutters. "I only need some time and, and—"

"But I need it now, Minji. Right fucking now.

"Get on your knees."

"Sir?" Minji asks, shocked. "On my knees? Do-do you want me to beg?" 

You snort. “I thought you were smarter. What did Zuha tell you exactly?” 

“H-how did you know—?”

“Minji, what you're asking for requires a complete 180. Your entire concept will have to be changed. From what I’ve heard, you need some new songs too. I have someone in mind who can spearhead your group but she's a wildcard, batshit insane really, but the right kind of crazy needed for something like this. But all of this will take a lot of fucking effort, time and money. And I need you to prove your worth, now."

Push down on Minji's shoulders until she winces and sinks to the floor. Black tiles, hard, cold and somewhat reflective. You know that for a moment all of them hesitate when seeing the rough outline of their head mirrored back to them. Are they really going to do it? Is this what they have to sell? Is it worth it? 

Those that stayed are now superstars and because Minji somehow knew about it and had the guts to look for you, there is not a single doubt in you that she will devote herself to you.

"I can make your dreams come true," you proclaim calmly, yet your words put Minji under unbearable pressure. "Fame, money, success are all guaranteed, out of question, beyond that everything is possible. When you just stay there, on your knees and open your pretty mouth—"

A zip and your semi-hard cock is released, to the absolute shock of Minji, whose mental image of her face is replaced by the first phallus she has ever seen before her eyes. 

"—I'll fulfill your desires."

Minji looks up at you and gulps. She thought the auditions and training evaluations were the final tests respectively, but now her entire career comes down to this one huge cock right in front of her. She curses the producers, the managers, those idiots at Ador—their mistakes have to be redeemed by her sucking dick and lowering to the level of a desperate whore.

Minji has no option. Idols are born from hardship and this is just another step, she believes. So her lips part a little, and when she locks eyes with you, they part a lot more. With a satisfied groan, you shove your cock deep into her throat.

"From now on, you'll call me Master. Later will be Daddy, but not until you've proven worthy. Your next few weeks will be rough, new people, new songs, new choreos." The first tears form in Minji's gorgeous eyes as gags bounce through your office. "I don't care how tired or sweaty you are, when I call you, you come to me right after practice, no excuses. You will obey every fucking wish, especially because I have so much work with you."

You drag your balls over her chin, let your cock rest at the top of her mouth and open it wide. Minji is clumsy with her teeth and with the way she tries to dodge your thrust, be it intentionally or out of fear. This is of course vastly inferior compared to a blowjob from all those second and third gen stars you've made big after giving them your big cock.

The only redeeming, already great quality, are her lips. Natural, not a talent or skill. She'd be a lot better just not moving, not thinking, a fleshlight, but how should such a young woman know?

"I assume you're smart enough to understand all this," you tell her expectantly and pull out. Minji leans forward and coughs up her saliva on your floor. You grab her hair and pull it back, get ready to spit at her, but she has wit.

"Ye-yes, Master. Excuse my incompetence, I—you're so big."

"No crying? No regrets? Well, that's more impressive than your blowjob skills. How about you clean up your incompetence?"

You take a step back and pull her face down, down by the hair, onto the tiles where her spurts of saliva lay. Minji hisses out in pain, you know she stares down angrily, shocked at how rude you are to her. She grits her teeth—

"Yes, Master, sorry, Master."

—and begins to lick the floor, slowly and only with the tip of her small tongue.

You are mildly impressed that she adjusted to her situation rather quickly. It is the sign of a prodigy in bloom. 

"I am curious, baby girl. I was informed you didn't really set out to become an idol. So why put yourself through all of this?" You muse and question her. Minji's eyes widened a little, finally shifting from their bristling anger. "Oh, I know everything about you, Kim Minji. It is my job to know and then some. So tell me: what is your ambition? What is your desire?"

"Who doesn't dream of being famous?" Minji says, determination in her eyes which she has pointed at you like sharp, pointy arrows. "I want to be a star, the idol that all my classmates, parents, grown-ups have never seen in me. I want to show them how wrong they were."

"Too bad that even after joining the great and successful HYBE, you are about to be their first blunder," you taunt her and slap her forehead with your cock. "Good thing you're ready to suck cock for some adjustments of their mistakes."

Minji puckers her lips and a bit carelessly gets your cock back onto them, spreading small licks on your cockhead. "This is nothing, I know hardship."

"Oh, 

"You call this nothing?"

You tsk and slap her face with your cock.

"You know hardship? Do tell, Minji..." You grip her head and begin to plunge into her mouth. "Hardship? We haven't even started yet. I'm not even at full size, stupid girl!" 

You see her eyes widening as tears begin to form with your rough treatment. Thinking back to Minji's words, you read her well. People doubted her—you could too. She wasn't so different from the others you've trained. All they needed was education to rely on you, devotion to you and love for you and only you.

"Make sure to keep your fucking teeth off of it," you growl while your fingers search for new ways to pull at her hair, to push her away and then slam her back down on your cock which is finally hardening at the arousal her fearful face brings. The inside of Minji's mouth grows wetter, sloppier, warmer, until suddenly—

The annoyance of her teeth returns and it stings. To start with blowjobs has both been a disaster for your pleasure but intense fuel to introduce Minji to the harsh reality that is you; you and the success that you bring. Everything she has ever wanted, you can bring her, and so she fights trough the tears and accepts that you press her flat on the floor and fuck down into her mouth like it's a pussy.

"Open wide, open wide," you repeatedly command, a hand on Minji's jaw to help her make this command come true. "You useless slut, don't waste your lips on such pathetic blowjobs. Fucking hell, when I'm done with you, you better deepthroat like a mid porn star.

"Fucking waste of my time, you stupid stupid girl. This is the standard HYBE is accepting now? Fuck, maybe we can't even blame the company for your group's future failure—it will all just be on you. If you don't fucking step it up, this is the last time you will ever contact me." 

Gaze still intensely focused on her, you pull out your cell phone and unlock it. You don’t really use it for much, except for phone calls, but this alone makes this device insanely valuable. You however don’t need to make a phone call now. You only need to show Minji one thing: your contact list.

She can see you scrolling past the names of tons of people, all in the industry. Well known producers, managers, executives, staff members, but most importantly, all highlighted by a colorful array of yellow, orange, red and pink: 

The full names of hundreds of female idols. Minji scans through the list, recognizing one Unnie after the other, from nugu second gen groups to absolute super stars.

You pull out of Minji's mouth, give her time to cough up all leftover spit and wipe her tears away. Ultimately, you help her up from the cold hard floor, the only thing still laying on the floor is her pride.

"Do you get it now?" you ask and look at her, eyebrows raised with the highest of expectations.

"Yes, Master."

"Then you know what you have to do."

"De-deepthroat like a p-porn star."

"Can you do that?"

Minji hesitates, something you cannot stand for the love of everything. You grab her hips and throw her on your desk, spin her until her head is hanging off of the table. With no further warning, because she does not deserve those anymore, you press your cock on her lips and fill more than her mouth. Minji's throat starts to visibly bulge from the massive width of your cock. 

Of course she is gagging, kicking her feet but that isn't even a flight response. There is no need for you to pin her down. She wants to stay, wants to become a good slut, a stupid girl that can suck your entire cock. Sadly, her newfound eagerness isn't rewarded with success. She needs training and stretching and so you stretch Minji's throat with lazy thrust and train her nose to accept your balls on them.

"You're so silly, but finally, we have some effort, Minji," you growl and reach into the top of her shirt. "We can work from here."

You fondle her breasts, run your hands down her soft stomach. 

"Good, I can definitely work with this. You remind me of—" 

But you pause, not wanting to divulge any advantages for her to pick up on. She looks like an absolute fuck doll as her head continues hang off the table. Even upside down, it was pretty when stuffed with your cock, your balls now touching her lips with each plunge. 

"Minji, it's not enough to deepthroat like a porn star. You'll learn to deepthroat like one of my perfect sluts, whores. Porn star is a start, but it will soon be an insult to you.”

She had no idea that her consideration as a future perfect whore meant you already took a liking to her. As of now, all she knew—no, all she could think of—was your cock and that she needed to keep her teeth off of it. It needed to fuck her throat if she wanted any chance at a great career. 

And so Minji takes it, acts like a whore who willingly gets gag induced drool over her face, then fat, filled balls on her nose and accepts the greedy hands all over her midriff. Minji always thought that she needs this tight, perfect form for the approvement of the public—now it's you who decides if her body is acceptable and ripe for a fucking. 

Your seal of approval is the frantic way you tear open her shirt, then her bra and start to knead her breasts, while her tongue movements become actually enjoyable. You thrust harder, making Minji's face pale as she struggles to get air. She looks gorgeous like that, so you slap her tummy and before the choking is too hard, you back off and pull your pants up.

"That's it for today," you say as Minji still gasps for air. "From now on, you'll be here everyday after practice."

Short silence, disbelief in her eyes. "H-huh—yes, Master."

"The door will be open. Walk in and lay down on the table, just like this. You will wait until I return or have time for you. It doesn't matter what happens, you will lay there until I am finished with you."

"Yes, Master."

"A lot will change." You rub sweat and spit off her temple with a gentle hand and look at her glassy eyes. "You might not get any sleep at all. Now you will learn true adversity.

"Okay, fuck it. You don't deserve this, but I don't care."

Pull your pants back down and lower your balls onto Minji's mouth. This time, there is no hesitation, and she opens her fuckable lips wide. Her tongue starts to twirl around your sac while you begin to jerk yourself off. When Minji finally starts to suck, you feel a satisfying conclusion to this messy meeting arriving. But—

"Why would I do it myself? Get your hand here!"

You find one of Minji's hands and start to spit on each finger. Like a waterfall, it runs down until you deem it lubricated enough. Then you put them around your manhood and begin to thrust. It's a lot colder than a pussy, but Minji seems to instinctively know how to tighten the gap, the grip, her hand-pussy suddenly becomes worth cumming in.

Take a final breath and climax, each pump sending long streaks of pearly white on Minji's body. You cover her in seed until one long line, from her navel to her throat, forms and you admire how carefully she worships your balls. Wipe your cockhead clean on her hand and make a mental note to have this soft palm be a useful masturbation aid for another time.

"Who would've thought that you're already in love with my balls?" You almost crack a smile through your stone cold facade. "A good sign that you're already a whore."

"M-Master, I..."

"Shut the fuck up.

"Tomorrow, after practice. No underwear, no questions, no one is allowed to know."

[hazelsmirrorball]

PAPER RINGS | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: Charles and his long term girlfriend go to the eras tour

FACE CLAIM: Olivia Rodrigo

pairings: Singer Swiftie! Reader x Charles Leclerc

authors note: first formula 1 oneshot! hope you guys enjoy

y/nnn_ just tweeted!

y/n’s instagram post

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc, and 4,050,245 others

y/n kids, manifestation works! got to meet my one true love today at the eras tour, still can’t believe it.

tagged @taylorswift

view all 5,694 comments

y/nsmirrorball mother is mothering with mother

y/nsferrari i’m sorry but i’m crying this is the y/n x taylor content we needed and craved for years

charles_leclerc you’re one true love? what am i? chopped liver?

→ y/n *your

→ charles_leclerc your digging yourself into a bigger grave, love.

→ landonorris *you’re

carlossainz55 thank you for including me in your date! Never would’ve thought that i would enjoy a third wheeling hangout with you two.

→ y/n what can I say? we are the best throuple

→ charles_leclerc please don't make that a thing

→landosssnorris too late for that

taylorswift I’m glad to meet such a sweet soul as yourself, xoxo.

→ y/n love you love you love you

→ user101 I will forever be jealous of taylor swift

→ charles_leclerc get in line buddy

landonorris next time I expect an invite.

y/nlover i’m sorry but y/n’s the queen of manifestation. not only did she manifest meeting her idiot but also finding her dream man. i need to take notes

charles_leclerc instagram post

liked by y/n, carlossainz55 and 950,078 others

charles_leclerc had fun with my lover at the eras tour.

ps. we got paper rings and daylight as our surprise songs.

tagged @y/n

view all 1,437 comments

y/nandlando omg! the friendship bracelets.

y/nbabes I'm currently screaming, crying, puking.

lalalandy/n seven friendships bracelets makes me want to fall into a ditch and die

charlescruelsummer guys! guys! guys! don't you remembered y/n's tweet?

→ charlesxyn "I'll get engaged if we get paper rings and daylight as our surprise song" @charles_leclerc start finding a ring sir.

carlossainz55 thank you for the photo credits on the last one by the way.

→ charles_leclerc please shut up.

username12 wait! are they dressed up as miss americana and the heartbreak prince?!?!?!!?

→ y/n fuck yes! Best couple outfit for the eras tour.

lewishamilton congrats you two!

→ y/n @lewishamilton thank you lewis!

user123 why is lewis hamilton congratulating them. LEWIS WHAT DO YOU KNOW? Speak now.

y/n love you to the moon and to saturn, charles!

wag.updates just tweeted.

charles.updates just posted.

liked by y/n, landosmirrorball, and others

charlesupdates @taylorswift saw y/n's tweet and choose violence and I'm here for it!

view all 573 comments

user126 like how is it possible that she played those two songs?

verstophim what connection does she have to charles, that's something I want to know.

charlesxy/n taylor is just like us!

user21 omg!!!! y/n liked? What does this mean, please y/n. SPEAK NOW.

user101 she is a mastermind

Y/n slowly walked around the parking lot trying to find their car with Charles and Carlos trailing behind her. If she was being honest, she had a lot of feelings going through her head and the thing she was least worried about was finding the car. A big smile plastered on her face as she saw fans walking out of the stadium in the same condition as her. Y/n let out a laugh as she looked down at her socks remembering that Charles had taken her shoes. All she wanted to do was sit down and process the night she had. She was still on cloud nine, not only did she go to the eras tour with the love of her life and her best friend. Y/n had also met Taylor Swift, she still couldn’t believe it. 

“Did you guys see the way she looked at me? What does she know? What is she hiding? No, because how is it even possible that she sung those two songs? Out of all her discography, Paper Rings and Daylight? Is she dropping an easter egg? Is she playing with me? Are you getting what I’m trying to say?” Y/n rambled while walking faster to the end of the large parking lot. She ran a hand through her hair desperately trying to understand how it was possible that she had not only gone to the Eras tour but gotten those two songs.  

“Y/n” Charles had called for the fifth time in the past minute trying to stop her rant so she would turn around. 

“Not but really, Charles. What do you think? Wait, where's Carlos?” Y/n said turning around to face Charles noticing that Carlos wasn’t next to him. 

“Do you remember your tweet?” Charles asked nervously while slipping his hands on his front pockets swaying back and forth. 

“What tweet? I tweet a lot of things, hun” Y/n asked while furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. She slowly reached for Charles' shoulder, noticing his nerves in an attempt to ease  them. 

“About the surprise songs” Charles responded searching for her eyes. Y/n squeezed his shoulder, sending him a comforting smile. 

“Yeah? I ranted about the surprise songs all the time. Can’t you believe it? Daylight and Paper Rings, insane. Now let’s find Carlos” Y/n responded not getting what Charles was trying to say. 

“Mon Cheri, Taylor played Daylight and Paper Rings” Charles managed to let out a nervous chuckle, getting on one knee on the pavement. 

“Oh” That’s when it clicked. Y/n moved her hands to her lips attempting to cover any noise that would come out of her mouth. Charles with shaky hands took out the red velvet box from his back pocket showing it to her. Tears started flowing from her eyes as she let out a nervous laugh which Charles followed. Y/n slowly bent down to Charles level leaning into him, both of their teary laughs taking over. 

“Y/n L/n, you have been one of my biggest supporters since day one and I am forever grateful for that. You made me the person I am today and I can’t imagine a world without you by my side.  I would spend countless eternities with your love. I really don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you, Y/n. Before I met you I thought love would be black and white but now that I have you I know it’s golden. What I’m trying to say is would you do me the honor of spending an eternity with mon cheri. Y/n L/n, will you marry me?” Charles said in between tears as Y/n gripped on him tightly. She shook her head yes as she handed him her hand which Charles gratefully took, slipping a hand made paper ring. 

“You didn’t”  Y/n laughed while looking at the beautifully done paper ring. Charles smiled back while looking at her proudly. 

“The real ring is at home but I thought the paper ring was better for the occasion” Charles replied while pulling her into a passionate kiss. 

y/n just posted

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 1,930,430 more

Y/n Taylor you are a mastermind! Can't believe I got married with paper rings.

tagged: charles_leclerc

user10 OMG OMG OMG FINALLY IM SCREAMING

maxverstappen1 congrats!

landonorris be grateful that i showed him how to do paper rings

user212 my parents are finally getting married

[kisskuni]

“who did this to you?”

↳ he finds you injured / “who did this to you?” trope - [diluc, kaeya, wriothesley x gn!reader]

tags: injuries + mentions of blood/reader gets hurt. swearing. threats to kill people lol.

notes: wooo first genshin post.. i need to catch up on this game

diluc ━━━

the way adelinde stood outside of the winery, hands playing nervous with each other and shifting her weight, told diluc that something was wrong. his brows were pinned as he approached her.

“everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even and calm but there was a hint of worry underneath. something was wrong. something was definitely wrong.

adelinde cleared her throat before speaking, “y/n arrived about half an-”

diluc didn’t need to hear the rest. he moved past her and into the house, calling your name as he moved up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. he was already rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt; what exactly was wrong he didn't know, but he was more than willing to get his hands dirty.

he knocked on the door to your shared room only once before clicking the door open. there was a nurse next to the bed, but she wasn’t tending to you at the moment. she looked a little startled as he entered, but he paid her no mind.

he was kneeling at your bedside in a second. the nurse had taken a few steps back to give him space. he held your hand in his, his lips pressed against your knuckles.

“are you okay? what happened?” he asked, a little breathless, his eyes moving over you. there was a bandage wrapped around your abdomen, but he didn’t see any other injuries.

you nod and swallow dryly. “yeah… yeah ‘m alright.”

"bullshit." he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering over the wound. he wants to get a better look at it, but he knows the bandaging is fresh and he doesn't want to disturb it.

"i'll be fine, diluc... honest."

"who did this?" he asks, his voice suddenly a lot lower than before.

"...what?"

it almost startles you, the way small, almost unnoticeable flames flicker along the skin of diluc's forearms. his voice is calm, but strained, when he speaks, "who?"

"it was just some treasure hoarders, i'm-"

"where?"

"they're dealt with, diluc."

he stares at you for another few moments, eyes watching your face as if searching for some sort of sign that you were being dishonest. finally, he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. this time, when he speaks, his voice is much softer and caring than before.

"do you need anything?"

"i'm okay. some water, maybe?"

"of course," he hums, moving to press a kiss against your forehead. "just get some rest."

kaeya ━━━

you were supposed to be back an hour ago.

and yet, you weren't back.

he hates that he's pacing, hates that he feels so helpless. he should go find you. he should tell jean he's leaving, that he's not going to work for the rest of the day, that he's going to the outskirts of mondstadt to-

"kaeya!"

his head snaps up, his gaze falling to you. you were limping, why were- oh. there is a gash across your hip, bloody and staining your pants almost black, fading into red at the edges.

he's at your side as quickly as he can be. he's holding your shoulders, a silent plea not to move, not to put weight against the wound.

"shit- what happened? who did this to you?"

you swallow thickly, panting slightly. "just- i ran in to some people-"

"what kind of 'people'?"

"people that got taken care of, kaeya. i promise."

he stares at you for another few moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. then he nods and moves to your injured side. he grabs your arm to drape it over his shoulders and around his neck, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"we're getting you inside, and safe, and then i'm going to make sure every last one is properly dealt with."

you shake your head at him, but don't say anything. you're grateful for the support on your leg and you weren't about to complain. slowly, he helps you hobble back to the city and slowly deposits you into an infirmary bed.

a nurse ushers kaeya away, and he spends the next twenty minutes pacing outside of the building, his arms crossed. finally, the door opens, and the same nurse sticks their head out of the door, "kaeya? you can come in."

he moves back into the building, maneuvering around people and equipment to kneel at your bedside.

"hey..." he says softly. his hand comes up to your face, back of his hand running affectionately across your cheek. "you feeling alright?"

you give him a small smile. "i'm fine."

"you are," he affirms. "but i still intend on finding the sons of bitches."

you frown at him, though it holds little heat. you study him for another moment before you give him a resigned sigh, "near cape oath."

he presses a kiss against your forehead, already standing up, "i'll be back before dark, my love."

wriothesley ━━━

wriothesley did not consider himself to be a violent person.

today, he was about to be.

it was the way you stumbled into his office, looking so worn out, blood draining down your face and down your chin. your lip was busted and a gash broke the skin near your temple, crimson trickling down your face and dripping onto his floor.

he’d been by your side before you could even utter a word, letting you lean against him and forcing you to sit on the floor. his thumb ran over the blood, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. that this had happened. likely in the fortress, no less.

had it been? no. there was no way. no one would harm someone so blatantly important to the duke… right?

he was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle grumble from you.

“give me a name.” he said, without really thinking about it. his voice was stern, and cold, and left no room for argument.

“what?” you blinked hard, seemingly trying to ground yourself.

“shit.” he cursed under his breath, helping you stand back up. why the hell you had come looking for him before medical attention, he’d never know.

still, he held you against him and helped you to the infirmary, whispering sweet affirmations under his breath the whole way. his string of ‘you are gonna be fine’s and ‘everything is gonna be alright’s dissipates as he slowly lowers you into an infirmary bed.

he straightens, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl twisting his face.

“who did this to you?” wriothesley asked again, this time more firmly.

you shake your head. “is… okay, wrio-”

“give me a goddamn name.” he asks again, and then his voice softens. “please.”

you watch him for another few moments before nodding and letting the person’s name fall from your lips. a muscle in his jaw ticks. he looks down to one of the melusines.

“i’ll be back in an hour. you tell me if they so much as twitch a finger weird.” he orders. he doesn’t wait for a reply, his jaw set as he moves out of the infirmary.

[clerc16]

EVERYONE ADORES YOU (AT LEAST I DO)

3 times in which charles tried to win Y/N over, and the 1 time she caved in.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none.

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourbsf and 61, 780 others

yourusername life recently 🌸

charles_leclerc cute

charles_leclerc hi Y/N

yourusername hey

charles_leclerc you look cutee

yourusername well aware you mentioned it before but thank you

yourbsf gorg!!!!

yourusername all youuu!!

user6 i bet charles is screaming crying throwing up because Y/N was not this enthusiastic whilst replying to him

pierregasly i can confirm

maxverstappen i can also confirm

oscarpiastri me too

charles_leclerc not cool guys. not cool.

user8 i love how honest the drivers are

user9 and how honest charles is too because she IS looking cute

francisca.cgomes miss you!!!

yourusername miss you more love! meet soon?

charles_leclerc meet at an f1 race! fun and exciting

user1 i find it hilarious how Y/N is ignoring all of charles’ attempts

user4 literally giggling i love her

user5 my mother

Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 91, 719 others

tagged: francisca.cgomes

yourusername day out with my love 💞💓💖

francisca.cgomes the best time ever as always <3

yourusername mwah!

pierregasly please stop stealing my girlfriend from me

yourusername she is MY gf 🤫

francisca.cgomes honestly pierre don’t disturb us

pierregasly get yourself a real partner and STAY AWAY FROM HER

charles_leclerc i volunteer as tribute

maxverstappen charles, no

user9 Y/N i beg you give charles a chance

oscarpiastri Y/N i am begging you too

alexalbon me too. i am tired of this.

scuderiaferrari same.

charles_leclerc what a duo!!! f1 race next? ;)

yourusername No sorry

user6 Y/N LMFAOOOO

user3 oh poor charles

user0 i just heard charles scream loudly into his pillow

arthur_leclerc spoiler alert: he did

user1 mothers are mothering !!!!

user4 charles baby i think you need to start giving up now

charles_leclerc never back down never what

user4 he’s completely lost the plot

charles_leclerc wow 😍

yourbsf get a job stay away from her!!!

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 117, 931 others

yourusername spontaneous museum day out

charles_leclerc if you were a painting you would be a masterpiece

yourusername pipe down, leclerc

charles_leclerc :(

yourusername sad faces do NOT work on me 💪

scuderiaferrari just say yes. the whole team is begging you.

maxverstappen not part of the team, but i am begging you too.

pierregasly i cannot be seen in ferrari red, but i beg you too.

alexalbon not a spot of red in my team but i also am begging you to say yes.

oscarpiastri yeah what they all said

francisca.cgomes take me with you next timeeee

yourusername come to monaco!!!

yourbsf do not forget to invite me omg

user1 all the drivers have lost it i am LOVING this

user7 charles is always so down bad in her comments it is hilarious

charles_leclerc my pain is NOT funny.

yourusername it truly is, leclerc

charles_leclerc omg heyyy Y/N

charles_leclerc yk race weekend is coming up right?????? 😁😁😁

yourusername don’t count on me

lewishamilton i didn’t want to involve myself in this but Y/N please say yes before next season comes because i cannot handle him crying in the garage

yourusername omg lewlew whatever u say king!

charles_leclerc SO YOU’RE COMING TO THE NEXT RACE?

yourusername don’t tell lewis i said this, but no

pierregasly ENDED HIM

charles_leclerc shut up pierre

user6 CHARLES FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE IN THESE COMMENTS BRO

user3 Y/N eating as always!

user9 WHY ARE WE NOT DISCUSSING CHARLES’ DISGUSTING PICK UP LINE IM CRYING HES SO CORNY

yourusername i know right, flattering me tho

charles_leclerc am i seeing this correctly? flattering? you’re flattered?

yourusername don’t you have a job to attend to?

charles_leclerc YOURE FLATTERED

scuderiaferrari he’s squealing in the middle of a meeting, calm down please.

lilymhe i miss youuuu

yourusername soooon <3

user8 wait i might be reaching do you think Y/N caved in

user1 no she is NOT that easy to convince

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1, 829, 191 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc pretty win in front of a pretty girl ❤️

yourusername how charming

charles_leclerc that’s all you really

yourusername why thank you charles

pierregasly WAR. IS. OVER.

francisca.cgomes my girlfriend

charles_leclerc ? stay back

pierregasly we’re in this one together mate

yourbsf you did not get a job and you did not stay away from her. ok.

yourusername it’s okay, kinda glad he didn’t

charles_leclerc ASDNDLSBLXJWOSJ

oscarpiastri FINALLY!!!!!!!!! my parents lowkey

yourusername HIGHKEY even

charles_leclerc you’re officially adopted!

maxverstappen two celebrations in one 🎉🎉🎉

lewishamilton thank you for listening to my advice, Y/N

user6 AAAHAHHAHAHAHKSLDLEKWKWKKDJSKWKJ

user2 MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user8 see guys joblessness WORKS

yourusername it does

scuderiaferrari this calls for a celebratory dinner. not because you won but because she caved in

charles_leclerc ? thanks ig?

yourusername SHHHH CHARLIE DONT SAY NO TO FREE FOOD thank you ferrari :))

user0 SHE WENT FROM LECLERC TO CHARLES TO CHARLIE AAAAAAAAA

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourbsf and 1, 693, 627 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername loser. my cute loser.

charles_leclerc YOURS

yourusername yes!!!!

pierregasly my job here is done

yourbsf so adorable actually

charles_leclerc is this the comment of approval?

yourbsf possibly

charles_leclerc VAMOS

francisca.cgomes you are still my girlfriend tho

yourusername absolutely

charles_leclerc No

pierregasly NO.

user3 HER 😭 CUTE 😭 LOSER 😭

user7 charles i am so sorry for bullying you

user2 the real question is how did he pull her with no flirting abilities

yourusername he’s hot so it gave him bonus points

charles_leclerc YOU THINK I’M HOT

user5 you know what. fair play charles. fair play

user1 next time i try to ask someone out i’ll use the charles leclerc technique

lilymhe MY BABIES

yourusername double date soon?

francisca.cgomes make that a triple date!

alexalbon WHAT LILY SAID

user0 officially my parents i love them a lot

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[cherryobx]

Illicit affairs

a/n: last fic of my 2.4k picnic! thank u all for requesting and participating! i love yall! also, this song is so Rafe fr

pairing: Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader

summary: you're tired of keeping your relationship a secret

warnings: rafe is a simp but also so stupid, language, like one sexual innuendo i think, mentions of alcohol, drugs and doing them (idk if i missed anything but if i did pls let me know)

wc: 4.3k

Even though it wasn’t technically wrong in any way, it seemed that way. People in Kildare had been separated into two for so long that it made it almost sinful or illegal in a sense for a pogue and a kook to be together. But you loved him. You loved Rafe.

You met him at Midsummers. Sarah begged you to go with her because she didn’t want to go alone and converse with all the snotty kooks there, even though she herself was a part of that society unfortunately. She just needed someone there for her so she could make this evening a bit less insufferable.

“It doesn’t seem so bad, to be honest,” you said looking around yourself and the people there who were dressed in all kinds of fancy outfits. You yourself included.

Sarah offered to buy you a dress. You denied her offer at first but after rummaging through your own closet you finally said yes to her. You didn’t have anything to wear to an event like that. You also didn’t want people to make fun of you or notice immediately that you definitely didn’t belong there.

Sarah was happy to help you out and go shopping together. It took you a whole day to find something you not only liked but felt confident in. You also kept your eye on the price tags and made sure to not pick anything super expensive because you were planning on paying her back. Even though she insisted that it was a gift and she didn’t want your money.

“Trust me. It will get worse as people drink. They start getting chatty and ask too many questions that I don’t wanna answer.” She scoffed and took a sip of her champagne flute.

“Like what?” you asked curiously.

“Every year they’re like ‘are you seeing anyone’, ‘what college are you going to’, ‘planning on getting married’ or stuff like that. Like let me live. It’s none of their business. One time this older lady kept telling me I needed to lose weight. Like what? It’s insane.”

Your eyes are wide in slight shock. “Yeah, they never know when to shut up, do they?” 

“No, they do not.”

And then your eyes met his. He was standing across the room with a bunch of his friends. Rafe tilted his head as he looked at you curiously. You felt almost exposed under his gaze. There was a small smirk on his face as he raised his glass, saluting you, before downing its contents with one gulp. 

You were sure he knew you weren’t a kook. He saw right through you. But you didn’t find it in you to care. 

You mimicked his actions and the smirk on his face grew into a smile.

You kept stealing glances at each other throughout the night and once Sarah was pulled away by some of her acquaintances, Rafe made his move

He was standing at your side in a second. “You lost?”

“Why would I be lost?” you asked, turning your head so you could look up at him.

“Because you don’t belong here, sweetheart.” 

Your heart rate picked up at the pet name he used, making you nervous. He was so attractive, although you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. He looked really good in his suit. He wasn’t wearing a tie and the first couple buttons of his shirt were undone.

“That obvious?” You chuckled and took a sip of your champagne.

“Surprisingly not really. But I’ve seen you running around with your pogue friends so I know you’re not a kook.”

“That I am not. But I’m a friend of Sarah’s. She invited me here so please don’t rat me out,” you pleaded.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl. See you around.” He left as suddenly as he arrived, leaving you standing there with a dumbfounded look on your face and a stomach full of butterflies. 

Pretty girl.

Somehow, through many coincidences, you and Rafe kept seeing each other around more often. At Tannyhill when you were visiting Sarah, at your work, on the street. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him around before but it was weird how you seemed to run into him much more after the Midsummer incident.

Your relationship with Rafe took off after one night at Tannyhill when you couldn’t sleep so you wandered around the house and ran into Rafe in the kitchen who was getting a late night snack.

“Well look who it is?” He smirked. “Isn’t that my favorite pogue?”

“Am I not the only pogue you’re not absolutely disgusted by?” You asked and hopped onto the kitchen island, sitting there and dangling your legs.

Rafe took in your appearance. You were wearing shorts and a large hoodie. You looked really cozy. He almost wanted to tuck you to bed and give you a goodnight kiss, which he realized was an absolute crazy thought to have.

“Hence why you’re my favorite.” He stood next to you, booped your nose, and leaned against the counter, facing you. 

“Want one?” He held out a small bowl full of strawberries that he had previously washed and removed the tops from.

“Sure. Thanks.” You looked at him for a second before taking one from the bowl and popping it into your mouth. It seemed insane to be on speaking terms with the Rafe Cameron who was known for being an asshole to pogues.

Another thought you had, which you also thought was an insane one, was that he was beautiful. He had always been extremely handsome but in that moment, in the moonlight, he was breathtaking.

“You’re thinking really loud,” he commented after catching you staring at him with a disconnected look in your eyes.

You’re shaken from your trance and your eyes meet his. “What?”

“I said you’re thinking loud, kid.” 

Again with the nicknames. You were pretty certain he knew what he was doing.

“Oh umm…” you started but then he scooted closer to you and all thoughts vanished from your head.

And he noticed. Of course he noticed. Rafe was not stupid. He knew what kind of effect he had on girls. But he liked your reactions especially. He found himself liking you, actually. He never thought he’d like a pogue, that he’d not be repulsed by one. But with you it seemed to be the opposite. He was drawn to you.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asks. He pushed himself off the counter, putting down his bowl of strawberries, and forced himself between your legs. You instinctively made more room for him, accommodating his large frame in your space.

“Nothing much.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? You were so deep in thought just a second ago.”

He places his hands on your bare thighs, feeling your warm skin under his palms. You looked down and saw how big his hands were and swallowed thickly.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be coy. Share with the class.”

You laughed. “What class, Rafe?” 

He smiled. “Come on, baby. Don’t be shy. I shared my strawberries with you.”

“A strawberry for my thoughts?”

His smile widened, revealing his perfect teeth. “Exactly.”

“What do you wanna know?” You raise an eyebrow at him in question.

He shrugs. “Just what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that the moonlight is very pretty.” It was not completely a lie but also not the full truth. And Rafe knew that.

He squeezed your thighs with his hands. “What else?”

“That you’re really close to me.” He leaned even closer at that. He was so close your noses were almost touching. His eyes darted to your lips for a second before he looked back up at your eyes.

“Are you bothered by that?”

“No.”

“Anything else on your mind?” You couldn’t help but look down at his lips too. It was just a second but Rafe caught that. Of course he did.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you confirmed, obviously not being honest. There were about a million scenarios in your head at that moment and all of them included Rafe’s lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth.

“Fucking liar.”

“I’m not lying,” you tried to deny it but he saw right through you.

“You’re not lying?”

You shook your head.

“Is that so?” 

You nodded. Rafe smiled and leaned in. Your lips were just about to touch.”Why are you lying to me?”

You open your mouth to once again deny his claims but he interrupted you even before you could begin. “Be honest, baby.”

Baby.

“I’m thinking about your lips.” You were almost shocked at your own words, they just slipped out. 

“My lips? What about them?” He knew exactly what you meant but found joy in teasing the living hell out of you.

“They look so kissable.” You were wondering if you were drunk because you’d never say stuff like that to him of all people in the daylight.

“Then you should probably find out if they are as kissable as they look.”

You blinked at him. “Why are you acting like this?”

He looked confused as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“You’re flirting with me. And touching me.”

“So? Can’t I? Say the word and I’ll back off.”

“No, it’s just that I’m a pogue. Don’t you like want to light me on fire and stuff?”

His forehead fell to your shoulder as he chuckled. “Light you on fire? You’re funny, kid.”

Kid.

“Don’t you?”

He raised his head and looked you in the eyes again. “I would like to do many things to you but lighting you on fire is not one of them.”

“Then why are you flirting with me?”

“Is it that crazy that I actually like you? That I’m attracted to you?”

“Kind of,” you admit. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re a kook? Because you’re insanely hot and I can’t imagine you wanting anything to do with me?”

“You think I’m hot?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head. Your ego is big enough as it is.”

“You know what else is big?” He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked knowingly.

You gave him a gentle shove but laughed nonetheless. “Shut up.”

He laughed alongside you and it felt good. It was fun. He was fun. You never thought you could use that word to describe Rafe but that’s how it felt.

When your laughter died down he got this look in his eyes that could only be described as ‘hungry’. He wanted something, craved something.

Automatically you angled your body towards his. It was like something was pulling you. A magnet of sorts, perhaps.

Once again you found yourself close. You were too close for a pogue and a kook anyway but too close for two random people as well.

His eyes met yours in a plea. And you took the leap, leaning in and connecting your lips. He didn’t waste a second to kiss you back. It was slow and almost sweet at first, experimental. But then it got heated. Hands everywhere.

You didn’t find it in yourself to care about the consequences or future in that moment. You didn’t care that it was socially not acceptable for you to be making out with a kook. You just didn’t care. You just wanted to kiss him.

After that night, these meetings started happening intentionally. Sometimes Rafe sneaked into your house, other times you snuck into his. You found each other at every party, every event. It became serious. But both of you knew that this was meant to be a secret. This relationship was only for you two, no one else.

“Make sure no one sees you, okay?” You stood on your front porch, Rafe in front of you who was about to leave. He had spent the night but had to leave before your parents woke up. They’d kill you if they knew you were dating a kook, Rafe Cameron at that. The sun was starting to rise and the birds were chirping. It was a beautiful morning.

You grabbed the hood of his hoodie and pulled it up to cover him up as much as possible. You didn’t want to risk anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll take the other route, no one really uses it.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Bye, baby.”

“Bye.” You waved him off and watched him drive away.

Soon, your friends started suspecting that something was going on. They saw how happy and glowing you looked, tremendously more than you usually were, but couldn’t figure out for the life of them what or who exactly it was.

“What’s got you in such a good mood lately?” Kie asked one day when all of you were sitting in John B’s backyard, you, Kie, and Sarah in the hammock and the guys in lawn chairs.

You shrugged “It’s summer.”

“Bullshit,” JJ scoffed.

“Bullshit?” Did they really see right through you?

“Yeah. I’ve never seen you like this,” he commented, narrowing his eyes at you like he was trying to see into your brain and what was going on in there.

“Like what?”

They all looked at each other, speaking only with their eyes. That meant that they had discussed this topic previously and were hesitant to bring up their suspicions.

“You seem…in love,” Sarah said. It was actually kind of ironic how she was the one who spoke up. If she only knew it was her own brother who you were seeing.

“In love? What?” You tried to play it off by acting confused. “I'm as single as ever.”

Pope rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah right. You know you’re a horrible liar right?”

“Shut up.”

“We’re going to find out eventually who this mystery lover is. It’s either you tell us or we’ll do some investigating.”

You suddenly became nervous. “Just drop it guys. Okay?”

They raised their hands in surrender but exchanged quick looks with each other which told you that the topic wasn’t as much as dropped as it was postponed.

Later that night you snuck off to see Rafe. You excused yourself and lied that you were tired and your head was hurting. They didn’t seem convinced but didn’t start prying either. You made sure you weren’t followed when you biked to Tannyhill. 

Sneaking into his house wasn’t very hard. The place is huge, so many doors to enter through without being seen.

He met you at the staircase and dragged you to his room.

“They suspect that I’m seeing someone.” You were laying between Rafe’s big arms in his bed under the covers, all cozy and warm. Your back was against his chest, his body curled around yours. It made you feel very safe,

“Who?”

“My friends, your sister.”

“Wheezie?”

“No, Sarah, you idiot.” He laughed and then placed a kiss on your shoulder, the action making you feel all giddy inside.

“They won’t find out. They’re stupid.”

“Hey!” You furrowed your brows. “Don’t call them that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a part of that group. By calling them stupid, you’re calling me stupid.”

“Who said you aren’t stupid?” You just knew he was smirking.

“Asshole.”

“You love me.”

“Are you sure about that?” You turned around in his arms and looked at him, a smirk on your face.

“Yes.” He said confidently, placing a soft kiss on your nose before pressing one to your lips. You closed your eyes in bliss, relishing in the feeling.

Weeks turned into months and so far into your relationship you had managed to hide it and be with him undetected. Your friends tried to do some detective work but unsuccessfully so.

“Aren’t you tired?” Sarah asked one night when you were sitting in John B’s backyard once again, just chilling and spending time with each other.

“Of what?”

“Of hiding your relationship.”

There was a beat of silence. You thought about what she said. And she was right. You were kind of tired, obviously not of Rafe but all the sneaking around and almost never seeing each other in the daylight. You love being with him and love spending time with him but sometimes you actually wanted to be out in public with him. To go on dates or the beach together or whatever normal couples did.

And you wanted to be with him without hiding it. Without either of you caring about what others might think. Without there being judgment from people closest to you.

“I have to go.” You stood up.

“What? Why? I’m sorry if what I said upset you.” Sarah jumped up too, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“No, it’s not that. I just have to go.”

You texted Rafe to meet you at a random parking lot where he sometimes picked you up. You arrived before him and paced around nervously, biting the skin on the inside of your lips.

He pulled up about 10 minutes later, parked the car and then got out, hurrying to you. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He placed his hands on your arms and looked you in the eyes with a worried expression, searching for the answer in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I just needed to talk to you.”

He furrowed his brows and stood up taller. “Okay. What is it?”

“Sarah said something tonight and it made me think.”

Rafe rolled his eyes at that. “Sarah?”

You nodded. “She asked me if I was tired of hiding us, our relationship.”

“And?”

“I am. I’m so tired, Rafe. Aren’t you?” You asked, looking him in the eyes.

He contemplated for a second. “I am. But there isn’t really anything we could do about it, right?”

“We could just say fuck it and go public?” you asked, voice filled with hope.

“Go public? No, that’s not a good idea.” He shook his head, shooting down your idea immediately.

You were taken aback by that. “You said you were tired too?”

“Yes but this,” he pointed a finger back and forth between you two, “going public will ruin both of us.”

“Will it? We don’t know that, Rafe. We can’t possibly know that.”

“It most definitely will,” he argued.

“How can you be so sure?”

“We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“So? I love you, Rafe. I don’t care anymore. I wanna be your girlfriend everywhere, not just your bedroom or this random-ass parking lot. I want to be your girlfriend during the day too, not just night. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do but it’s not that simple. You’re asking for a lot.”

You took a step back, away from him. “I’m asking for a lot? I want us to be normal!”

“Baby.” He tried to get closer again but you just backed up again.

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me right now! Do you even love me?” You were beginning to feel frustrated and that brought tears to your eyes.

“Of course I love you! You knew that this is what it was going to be like when we started dating. You knew!” He was clearly angry and frustrated too.

You took in a shaky breath. Rafe’s constantly angry but it’s never been directed towards you before.

“Then I can’t do this anymore.”

“Kid-” he said, voice now quieter, almost pleading.

“No, I can’t do this to myself.” You turned around and hurried towards your bike which was lying next to the curb. 

“Let’s just talk about this!” he called after you.

“Clearly there’s nothing to talk about anymore.” You looked back at him.

“I love you.”

“Do you?” you asked, eyes filled with tears.

“Of course I do.”

“Then why don’t you want to be with me?”

“I do want to be with you but what we have is complicated.”

“It’s really not, Rafe.” You got on your bike and pedaled away as quickly as possible. You didn’t greet your parents as you got home and stormed past them to your room where you finally broke down.

You loved him. Of course you loved him. But you were tired and he wasn’t willing to compromise. 

Days passed and you barely left your room. All you did was wallow in sadness and cry yourself to sleep every night. And even then you didn’t get any peace because he even filled your dreams. You couldn’t get a break.

Rafe was absolutely miserable too, lashing out at everyone, breaking furniture and punching walls. He couldn’t sleep so he sat on the balcony the whole night, occasionally doing a line or smoking something to make him feel better but it never worked, he couldn’t get the heartbreaking look of you in that parking lot out of his head. 

It was a warm summer night a couple of days after your breakup. Rafe was smoking a joint on the balcony at Tannyhill when Sarah approached him, keeping her distance just in case. She stood by the door and leaned against the frame.

“You should go after her.”

Rafe turned around and stared at his sister. “What?”

Sarah said your name and Rafe swore his heart skipped a beat, or stopped working completely. 

“Why the hell should I talk to her. She’s your friend,” he scoffed and took another hit, looking at the treeline.

“You love her.” 

His head snapped towards Sarah.

“I know, Rafe.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you know but you don’t. So get lost.”

“It wasn’t really hard to figure out,” she continued. “I’ve never seen you actually happy before, you know?”

“Go annoy someone else.” He looks away before taking a big breath to calm his racing heart.

“It’s not the end of the world to love a pogue, Rafe. It’s literally not that big of a deal. You’re so stupid.”

He sighed before he spoke. He couldn’t believe he was about to actually talk to Sarah of all people about this. “It’s not just that.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue and explain what he meant by that.

Another sigh. “She’s the first girl I’ve ever loved and I pussied out when she told me she wanted to stop hiding.”

“Go talk to her.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it is.”

“She loves you, Rafe, for whatever reason. I hate seeing her suffer. I don’t care that much about you but your actions are what caused this. So fix it so I can have my friend back.”

“You’re so annoying, y’know that?” His blunt had run out and he put the butt into the ashtray, then pushing past Sarah into the house

“Where are you going?” She whipped around and followed Rafe down the stairs.

“Where do you think I’m going, dumbass?” 

“Say hi for me.” 

“I won’t.” He slammed the door and got in his car, making the drive across town to your house. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. That he’s sorry? That’s pathetic.

He stopped the car on the side of the road and walked up to your house, picking up pebbles as he went.

He threw one against your bedroom window. The sound was loud in the quiet of the night but you didn’t open the window on the first try like he had hoped.

He threw one more. And then one after that. He kept trying until you pulled open the window, staring down at him. “What the hell do you want?” you hissed.

“I love you. I was an idiot. I was a pussy and I made a big deal about something that isn’t even that important. I love you and I don’t care who knows. I want you to be mine 24/7. I knew I was going to love you from the moment I saw you at Midsummers. I’m a fucking fool and I’ve never deserved you in the first place. I’ve never deserved your love but I need it. I can’t live without your love. You’re like a drug and I cannot live without you. I can’t get you out of my damn head. I’m half the man that I could be when I’m without you. You’re the first girl I’ve ever loved and I promise I will try to be worthy of you and your love for as long as you’ll have me. I want you to be my girlfriend officially. I want to show you off and take you on dates. I want to introduce you to my dad. I just want you. I will love you in private and in public, when we’re alone and when with friends. I promise. Please, just give me another chance. I’m sorry.”

Rafe watched you disappear from the window and his heart sunk. He tried. He turned to leave but then heard the front door open and saw you sprinting towards him in your cute pajamas and messy hair.

He caught you in his arms, holding you close to his chest so tight you thought you were going to suffocate.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you mumble against his t-shirt.

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“You will have to do a lot of groveling.”

“I will, I promise.”

You raised your head from his chest, looking up at him. “Did you really mean all that?”

“I did and I do. I love you and it shouldn’t matter if we’re from the opposite sides of an island. It’s not important in the slightest because I love you and that’s all that matters.”

“Do you wanna come inside?” you asked.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his side as you made your way back towards the house. He pressed a lingering kiss to your hair, keeping his lips there.

“I love you, kid.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

l o o k | a t | m e

l o o k | a t | m e

Y/n and Tim are sharing a very intimate moment, and he wants nothing more than for her to look at him. Let's be honest, who doesn't want to look at him?!

Warnings and such: ummm yeahhhh....absolutely smutty...soft smut, but still smut! 18+ no minors. Some swearing and mentions of spit...definitely not proofread! let me know if I missed something?

A/N: I have a lot of smut written in general and I like it better than the soft stuff, but i like soft stuff! Not sure how I feel about this one so lmk!

ALSO: lmk what other tags i should add to these posts!

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

"Look at me."

His voice was gentle but demanding, the echo of his words like a lifeline to drag me back to reality, out of this incoherent but beautiful headspace.

Look at me

Like a soft echo, something to focus on. His voice.

My back arched and hips rolled. I felt like I was on fire, and I was loving every moment of it. As I tried with any strand of willpower I had left to open my eyes, the vision of Timothée came into focus. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but this was a different kind of beautiful.

"Look at me," He repeated, smiling softly down at me.

With pleasure.

A few moments passed, or maybe a few hours, before my eyes grew heavy again, vision blurred as I fought against rolling my eyes back with pleasure.

I gasped loudly, a string of groans following instantly as he bent over me, his hips burrowing into mine as he thrusted deeper into me. My legs wrapped tightly around his lower back, hands clawing desperately at him. I thought, for a moment, I would die if I lost the feeling. He dropped to his elbows, caging me below him and began trailing sloppy kisses across my neck and chest, interrupted only by feverish pants and profanities which presented themselves as deep groans through gritted teeth.

"T-Tim," I gasped again, feeling his hips roll in an effort to get impossibly further inside me. My nails dug into his back before reaching for his shoulders.

I was desperate. I could feel it coursing through my body. Close wasn't close enough.

Sweat dampened curls bounced in front of my eyes and tickled my nose when he took a moment to look down at where our bodies met. That was one of his favorite sights in the world. My hand reached higher, tugging the hair at the top of his head- I needed his eyes on me. I needed him to watch me come undone beneath him. He obliged.

One hand snakes it's way under my shoulder, pulling me down to meet his thrusts. There was no way of possibly being any closer, but everything was worth a try. My hips rolled up again, head back and my shut tightly. I opened my mouth, desperate to scream out the tingling sensation that rumbled in my stomach, but nothing came out. My breath quickened and I managed a moan, but nothing near what I was feeling on the inside.

"Look...at me," Tim repeated, panting between thrusts. His arm left my shoulder, finger trailing lightly down my stomach until he reached the bundle of nerves I had between us. I didn't need to open my eyes to see the smirk on his face, but my eyes opened quickly at the warm feeling of fluid that wasn't my own landing just above where I needed him to touch me. I looked down and watched as he spit drooled again, thumb collecting it and pressing harshly against me.

I was done.

I screamed, legs shaking around him as my orgasm washed over me. He continued to fuck me through it, wave after wave of pleasure consuming my body. It was almost too much. Almost.

"Fuck!" He grunted loudly, fingers digging into my hips as he chased his own release.

The room was silent, aside from the two of us desperately trying to catch our breaths. There was no more moaning, groaning or echoing of skin against skin. I whimpered as he pulled out of me, the empty feeling consuming all of my thoughts. I hated it. Tim ran a finger up my slit, collecting whatever juices spilled out on the tip of his finger.

"Open,"

I did as I was told, the salty taste in my throat sent a new wave of excitement through my. I fought, again, to open my eyes, to take in the sight of him- sweaty and restless and fucked. Though heavy eyelids I watched him stand, pull on a pair of long forgotten boxers and run his hands though his hair. He smiled when he caught sight of me staring.

"Pretty baby," He whispered, climbing back in bed and straddled my still shaking hips. "you alright?"

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not sure if I could remember how to talk.

He smiled and bent over me, feather light kisses trailing across my face, down my neck and across my collarbones. His hair, once again, ticking my nose. I ran my fingers gently up and down his back, soothing the raised lines and crescent shaped bumps I had left against his skin. They'd be gone my morning, almost entirely anyway, but for the rest of the night, each touch was reminder and heated my body with excitement and anticipation.

"Come on," his voice echoed in my ears again as he spoke, climbing off of me again. "Let's get cleaned up."

I didn't move. I couldn't. I wanted more.

"Y/n," He cooed again. "Look at me..."

[ponderingmoonlight]

would you be able/want to do something with gojo where him and the reader are both teachers and are in an established relationship but the student (aside from megumi) don’t know and start trying to figure out who gojo’s in a relationship with? i feel like gojo would either mess with them or be honest that it’s you but they just don’t believe him cause. yk. it’s you?

Hey, thank you so much for that great request, it was really fun to write! I mixed it up a little with an already existing fic of mine, I hope you don't mind. Let me know what you think <3

Part l to this fic can be found here

Gojo going nuts when his students don't believe him that you are his wife

Pairing: husband!Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: When Satoru wears his wedding ring for the first time in front of his students, Nobara can't help but wonder who he's married to. But when Gojo confesses it's you, his students just don't believe him.

Warnings: language, sad Gojo lol, this is an absolute comfort fanfic so there you go if that's what you need today, read part l if you haven't yet <3

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3

„Itadori!“ Nobara hisses through gritted teeth.

“Did you just see that?”

“What do you mean?”, Yuji remarks with doe-eyes, gazing up at her with no clue what she’s even talking about.

“That ring on Gojo-sensei’s finger, you idiot”, she barks back at him while frantically running to the door in order to catch one last glimpse at him.

“Is he by any chance married, Fushiguro?”

Megumi signs to himself, staring at Nobara in nothing but annoyance. That talk from last week where she literally forced you to describe Gojo still doesn’t sit right with him. Of course, Megumi knows about your relationship. After all, he’s been with both of you for many years now, witnessed countless times how Gojo caresses your cheek gently in the darkness of privacy, how he calls you “darling” around the house and passes out on the couch next to you 10 minutes into a movie. And even though both of you never talked about this whole marriage being private thing, Megumi simply refuses to talk about your love life – even with his friends.

“I have no idea. But maybe minding your own business will help with your complexion or something”, Megumi bites back.

All of the sudden, Nobara smacks the back of his head hard.

“Hey, that’s pretty mean, you don’t have to be so rough!” Yuji complains in an instant.

“Both of you, shut up. I will just ask him when he returns. Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“There are actually a lot of reasons not to tell you…”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH FUSHIGURO!”

“Huh, what’s going on here? I’ve been gone for a minute and you’re already smacking your heads?”

Casually, Satoru sits down behind is desk, long legs stretched out in front of him while nipping at the coffee you just made him. Oh, how much he loves to pay you a small visit during work. Just to be assured that you’re fine, that the second years don’t get on your nerves while training them. He just loves to adore you from afar. Yes, and the minute he gets home, you’re all his and his alone.

“You’re wearing a ring on your finger”, Nobara suddenly blurts out.

Satoru tils his head to the side, gaze wandering over his wedding ring. While he normally never wears it in fear of losing it during some stupid mission, today is your anniversary. The urge to proudly show off his ring became much greater than any anxiety. Also, today is a teaching only day and he’ll return home with you by his side after this lesson is over. The things he has planned for both of you tonight…He smirks to himself, joyful like a child when thinking about the surprise that’s waiting for you at home.

“Gojo-sensei!”

Megumi’s urgent voice rips him out of his daydreams.

“So what? A ring has many meanings”, Satoru replies calmly.

You never talked about this. While you seem to silently agree that showing each other affection at Jujutsu High isn’t what you want and that you are keen to keep your relationship private, you never talked this through. Last week when you described Satoru Gojo so well as your favourite type of men, you never said his name once, probably turned completely red when Yuji mentioned it so casually.

“Yeah, like being married for example!”

“Maybe I am, who knows?”

Satoru intertwines his fingers behind the back of his head, smirking at Nobara who is close to lose her mind widely.

“Maybe you should leave him alone…”, Yuji suggests in hushed tones.

“Maybe you should shut up, Itadori. This is far too important to let it slide!”

“You are way too dramatic about this.”, Megumi comments dryly.

“You guys just don’t understand the magic behind this!”

“So you want to know what this ring means?”

Nobara’s eyes light up in an instant, filled with so much unveiled curiosity that Gojo can’t help but wonder why she is never this invested when it comes to learning.

“Please tell me!”

Let’s see what happens.

“This is my wedding ring. I’m married to (y/n) for three years by now.”

Thick silence, utter speechlessness. The expression on Nobara’s face is so priceless that the urge inside Satoru to take a picture and show it to you later almost becomes unbearable.

“What’s up, Kugisaki? Did you see a ghost?”

“There’s no way in hell this is true”, Nobara mutters into Yuji’s ear, which earns a serious nod from the pink-haired boy.

Wait, what? Satoru furrows his eyebrows while gazing at the girl in front of him in disbelief. What did she just say?

“Why on earth couldn’t this be true, huh?”, he barks at her, hands clenched into fists.

“(y/n) is a real sweetheart with great taste. I just don’t think she would get involved with someone like you. Also, she said that she likes muscular man. And she never wore a ring”, Nobara explains briefly, earning a death stare from Satoru Gojo himself.

Both Yuji and Nobara eye him up and down, critical expression plastered on their faces while whispering unclear things into each other’s ear.

Satoru is on the brick of losing it. Did his students just suggest that you are too good for him? And that he’s not muscular!?

“I am muscular!”, he cries out.

“Megumi-chan, tell them I’m married to (y/n).”

If the ground would be able to swallow Megumi whole, he would take that offer in an instant. They already discussed this stupid matter for over 10 minutes now, when will the lesson finally start?

“Don’t drag me into this. Just do your job”, Megumi mumbles in annoyance.

Of course, Satoru is very aware of the fact that you are striking gorgeous, popular even beyond the boundaries of Jujutsu High. Damn, even here there might be some men who’d want you. But he is the strongest, he is good-looking, he is funny…Why on earth wouldn’t you be married to him?

“See? Nice try Gojo-sensei, but we don’t fall for your shit.”

He can’t believe his ears, face so red that Megumi slides back in his chair just in chase.

“You brats have absolutely no idea what love actually is! I won’t let you tell me who I’m married to or not!”, Satoru spits at his students, catching the attention of you.

Huh, what’s going on inside that classroom? You were on your way to grab some cursed weapons to show Maki, but the way your husband’s furious voice is heard through the entire hall makes you stop in front of his slightly opened door.

“Why are you screaming around here, Sir?”, you question, gazing at Nobara in confusion as she almost breaks down in tears from laughing her ass off.

“(y/n), darling, tell my students that you are my wife!”, Satoru demands.

Is that why he’s so stressed, because he wanted to tell his students that the both of you are married? What is going on here?

“I already told him multiple times we don’t believe him. Last week you said you like muscular man-“

“I AM MUSCULAR!”

You desperately try to hold back a laughter, the stressed out look on your husband’s face being enough to let a little giggle escape your lips. How on earth did that topic even pop up? Your gazer wanders to the wedding ring on his cramped finger, heart filling with warmth in an instant. Oh, he really wears it.

“Maybe he’s wearing that ring only for attention…”, Nobara whispers into Yuji’s ear.

“This is getting ridiculous”, Megumi comments.

“Why don’t we all just calm down a little? Your lesson started 15 minutes ago, why are you still arguing around?”, you playfully throw at your husband.

Despite the fact that you want to throw yourself in his arms right away, you keep your cool composure. This is what he gets for picking on you last week. You’ll make him suffer just the way he did it to you.

“You are supposed to help me with this!”, he complains.

“I am supposed to work right now”, you reply sweetly before turning on your heels and closing the door.

You can’t hold back any longer. Tears start to tickle in your eyes, that priceless look on his face. Oh god, you can’t stop laughing. This evening will definitely be entertaining.

-in the evening-

“Hello, stranger”, you playfully greet your husband as soon as he returns from work, blue orbs almost piercing through you.

“You are supposed to help me! Why didn’t they believe me? I’m I really that much of a downgrade compared to you?”

That little pout forming on his delicate face warms your heart in an instant.

“Maybe it’s better this way. I like to enjoy my time with you in privacy. Nice try though”, you playfully remark, your hands gently running through his soft white hair.

Suddenly he grabs your legs, pulling your body up in the air while all you can to is shriek and laugh out lough. He carries you into the bedroom, letting your body fall onto the soft mattress.

“I will make you pay for not helping me out today you traitor.”

“Then I’m happy to be a traitor.”

[glystenangel]

Hi! I would love to request a Sukuna x Sorcerer Reader oneshot where the reader gets called in to help to fight against Sukuna. When the reader arrives to fight, Sukuna took a liking towards her and flirts with her while fighting. Also, this would be enemies to lovers, smut and romance, a spicy vibe to it, and I'm okay with you posting this oneshot publicly ^^ - ☀️💖👑

In the Heat of Battle

Sukuna x Sorceror&Afab!Reader

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, everything in the ask but also i did this in a historical au bc...i like them, sitting in a hot spring with sukuna, SEX, cunnilingus, degradation/praise, edging😇, dirty talk, cussing, ridin', bratty reader, cumeating, sukunas got his 4 arms, half smut half fluff, i get a bit philosophical in the middle sorry, mentions of murder, injuries, and blood, etc.

~ 10k i got a lil too excited mayhaps bc this is not oneshot length but whatever

thanks for requesting, i hope you like<3

_________________

Fighting a curse like Sukuna meant you were lucky to be alive for this long.

Of course, you never had much need for luck.

“Ooh, so close.” Sukuna laughs into an effortless dodge, so agile that you can feel the air gliding underneath your palm for an irritatingly brief moment.

His voice is deep and so closely threaded with power the entire town practically shudders with the sound. 

“I’ll get you next time.” You spit, gritting your teeth and preparing yourself for the next series of attacks.

Sukuna opens his hands wide, “You can have me anytime you want.”

Ever since you got called into battle, your opponent took it upon himself to flirt with you more than he fought with you. Even as you beat him to a pulp, he would persist. It was nothing short of maddening.

You glare at him, cursed energy coursing through you as you ready yourself once more, “Shut up already!”

“Hm,” He licks the ivory tip on one of his canines with a rough stroke of his tongue, as if savoring the threat, “Happy to have a pretty girl like you shut me up too.”

“I’ll shut you up for good, and you won’t like how I do it. Trust me.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re good, but good enough to beat me? Be honest with yourself-”

Before he can finish, the cursed spirit’s neck is in your hands and you’re relishing the way his pupils shrink in alarm at your successful grab. Despite his shock, Sukuna manages to minimize any possible damage by dragging you with him as his body is forced backwards from the impact of your ambush. The instinctive maneuver is enough to pull you into the wall with him.

Rubble from the area you and Sukuna crash into cascades around your fallen figures. The fear of injury stings through your body, and you only register it when you instinctively push out your arms to get yourself back on your feet.

“Not so fast.” Sukuna’s arms entangle you again, and you belatedly realize he had landed beside you. 

He also rises to his feet more quickly than you can, pinning you to the chalky remains of the wall and sneering at your frantic clawing along the tops of his knuckles.

You hazily hear the gravelly reverberation of Sukuna’s laughter, and return to the rest of your senses, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Watch your temper.” 

He keeps you in his grip with his four arms, and you continue to struggle in their collective grasp. The veins of his arms are tense and pronounced from the rest of his olive skin.

“...And your modesty.” He pinches the hem of your collar between a few fingers, the tease emphasized by the slide of fabric across your skin. 

The heat that follows the motion enrages you.

Sukuna looks down at you with continued bemusement, and you follow his line of sight to find your shirt ripped open.

There’s a slight wrinkle in his nose that indents into the small black slash across it, and it’s caused by the smug expression on Sukuna’s face. His grin seems to have a cunning bite to it, and the corners perfectly complement the shape of his jaw.

As much as you hate to admit it, he has a nice smile. Nice enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Too bad you had to get rid of it.

Wrestling him to the ground, the impact leaves you breathless and a loud ringing enters your ears subsequent to you rolling yourself onto your back. You must have slammed your head, because you can feel the back of your scalp becoming sore. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your fellow sorcerers retreating and collecting the wounded. After your requested arrival, you had been exchanging violent maneuvers with Sukuna for what felt like hours.

In reality, you know that it probably hadn’t been any more than 10 minutes since you tackled the curse and began delivering blows with your curse abilities. 

Everything is on fire.

You have to finish the job.

“Looks like you hurt yourself pretty good.” You hear through your blurring vision, “Can you keep going?”

What?

Part of you strains to hear, and the other half retains enough instinct to push away Sukuna’s broad shoulders as he approaches.

You’re still trying to land attacks as your consciousness fades and he catches each one, making you resist even more and inadvertently expend your remaining energy.

“Stop. You’re cute for trying but don't.” He snarls.

A nice, square blow to his cheek grants you some satisfaction as you finally lose consciousness.

_________________

When you wake up, dozens of local sorcerers and townspeople are flocked to your side and hurriedly checking your vitals from where you lay on the ground.

“How long was I out?”

“About a minute.” A villager answers, dusting the debris off of your clothes.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You brush them off, the pounding in your head matching the one in your chest.

Although dazed, you scan beyond the crowd for any trace of Sukuna.

“He’s gone, don’t worry.” Someone says.

Even so, you contine to look for him.

Though you’re not sure why.

_________________

In spite of your bewilderment, you continue to search for Sukuna throughout the days succeeding the fight.

However, he seems to be searching for you too.

As luck would have it, he finds you first.

_________________

You dunk your wounds in the warm water, trying to relax into the hot spring and let the steam clear your mind.

Thanks to a healing sorcerer named Shoko, most of your wounds were able to be skillfully closed up, but they seem to still ache as though they were fresh.

So, you had ventured into the woods to the secret hot spring you had found years ago. The countryside was littered with them, and this one was your favorite due to the privacy brought by the trees and the soothing temperature. You were convinced that it had some sort of healing properties due to the mineral content that clouded the water, but you didn’t expend too much thought on that theory.

No one else seems to know about it either, so you trust the serenity of your secret hiding place enough to rest your head on the rocks and drift off.

As sleep begins to kiss your eyelids, a nearby rustle has them snapping back. You freeze, not wanting any splashing to alert the possible intruder.

Breathing slowly, you scrutinize the area that appears to be the source of the noise. You feel your battle worn joints scream in protest, but your gut instinct tells you that you may have to prepare to defend yourself.

The shadows of the trees drag over a tall figure, and your eyes widen at the familiar outline.

“Oh shit.”

Your thoughts mirror the words delivered by that unmistakable voice ingrained in your recent memory.

It’s Sukuna.

He has a bruise trailing along his jawline, and you recognize the blooms of purple as your handiwork among the other scrapes and scars dotting his person. It seems most of them have healed less neatly than yours have. Sukuna takes a step forward, and you note that he has a limp in his gait. The robes he wears are clean however, ivory and slate gray in color, seemingly too pure for someone as malicious as him. He rotates his neck and shoulders, the movement of those broad muscles prompting the stretch and pull of his pecs. His eyes stay trained on yours, the color of autumn leaves burning into your wary hues. Even with his obvious injuries, his presence brings chills to your body. He still looks strong. 

The sudden appearance has you ducking lower into the misty water with a not so subtle splash.

“Don’t look!”

You internally wince at your unplanned plea, expecting him to laugh or roll his eyes, but it only makes him pause.

The struggling rise and fall of your chest becomes ignored as you make out his face through the steam, which lacks emotion or mercy of any sort. 

Then, he covers his eyes with a large hand draped over the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.” Sukuna says, the agreement is accommodating yet inflected with a nonchalance that forces you to blink hard.

Another silence falls over you both, and you place a hand on one of the stones bordering the pool. Tufts of grass poke between the coarse gray, and you can feel a few get caught under your knuckle white grip.

You can’t fight him like this, so you have half a mind to run.

The thought is interrupted when the curse speaks again, “Can I come in?”

The ask jolts you back into that perilous place between fight or flight, “No fucking way!”

“I’ll keep my eyes to myself, promise.” 

No irony laces his speech, and true to his word, his eyes remain covered. 

Before you can retort, he says again, “Besides, I don’t think either of us are in any condition to fight…you more so than me. Don’t you agree?”

His lips move beneath the curve of his hand, and you follow the shape of them with little interest. They’re split with a line of scabbed blood, and his hand has green bruising patched over the back of it.

He somehow looks worse than you do. 

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to insult me either.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The water continues to rush over your body, and you feel it easing the tension within. Nature eroding every facet of pain into smooth relief. 

It would be a first for you to share such consolation.

“Fine. But, don’t come near me. Or look.” You acquiesce, though just in case you assume a stance that resembles offense somewhat.

Honestly, you feel ridiculous.

Sukuna smiles widely, and then he continues walking until he senses the edge of the water by the heat on the bottoms of his feet. You briefly shield your own eyes when he disrobes, and he slips into the opposite side of the spring so gracefully you wonder if he’s secretly peeking through his fingers. His sheer mass displaces some of the liquid, and it hits your shoulders as he settles in.

Once he’s waist deep, and to your surprise, he turns away to rest his chin over crossed arms. His other two arms swim through the spring, feeling what little current there was running across his palms.

Feeling awkward, you do the same, but periodically look back to see if he wasn’t going to rip your heart out from behind.

His back is lined with deep grooves of strength and the dark marks tattooed onto his skin, water puddling over the dips and then spreading thin into glossy sheens as it evaporates.

Your throat wets with saliva at the magnificent view.

Every part of Sukuna seems perfectly sculpted to fight and conquer. A sadistic culmination of poetry in motion.

You examine your own figure wrought with power and evidence of your training. The same water decorating him was lapping at you too.

An even match, you think.

“You’re being awfully quiet, getting dirty thoughts about me already?”

The croon shifts your focus, and you whip around to flick water between his shoulder blades. The shot hits its target, though he hardly seems to register the miniscule shot.

What an annoying guy.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You roll your eyes and return your sights to the treeline when you sense movement behind you.

As soon as your peripheral picks up on Sukuna rushing towards you, you manage to lift your hands in time to catch Sukuna’s.

Large globs of water hang off of the thick elbows he hoists into the air, the liquid trickling down to his ribs and then rippling the surrounding water. His height is nothing short of monstrous as you glower at the smirking curse.

Moisture is also loosely braided into his petal hued hair, which glistens in the sunlight before fading into a dark, cropped shadow around his ears and above his neck. He looks…different up close and without the rigid aura of battle.

Your fingers interlock tightly together, no words easing the moment. Speaking seems impossible, and the prolonged clasp has you swallowing hard.

The stare Sukuna uses to capture your eyes is unreadable. Every secret you’ve ever held seems to be pulled nearer, threads sinking into the garnet depths like those fabled red strings of fate. However after scanning down your neck and then back up to your face, a satisfied glint emerges.

“That’s what I thought.” He tuts, as if disappointed, “You humans have no conviction. Pathetic little creatures.”

With that, he lets out a wolfish chuckle and releases you. The amusement fades in the air as he goes back to his previous seat, the broad shape of his back facing away from you once more.

The silence holds for a while, just the gurgle of water and occasional slosh from you or Sukuna cupping water over yourselves.

Only the damned curse behind you seems to like taking the lead in breaking each quiet stretch of time.

“So, you really gonna kill me?” 

You sigh, running a hand over your cheek, “I hope so.”

“Don’t you want to get it over with? I’m right here.”

You chance another glance at him from over your shoulder, resting your temple on a fist.

Sukuna doesn’t move. You can’t see his face or imagine what kind of expression is laid across it.

All you see are the slashes you inflicted upon him, and the slightly pink scars beneath from past sorcerers who died in their attempts to rid the world of Sukuna’s terror once and for all.

As if he can feel where you’re gawking, he scratches the spot with a long black nail and lets out a discontent mumble.

Oddly enough, you find him both pitiful and loathsome. He won’t live for much longer, and surviving that final brawl certainly won’t leave you untouched. Once you take his life, you highly doubt that you’ll be able to keep yours for much longer after that.

There is an intimacy in knowing that you’ll die with someone. That you will be the last person each one will feel under each other’s hands and see as you draw the same, last breath.

Because of that, you find that you can’t look at him anymore.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” You finally admit, cutting the disdain from your voice and tapping the top of a stone.

The smile on his countenance is something you swear you can hear now, “We’ll keep this a secret then, yeah?”

“What secret?”

“This place, stupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well, you’re acting like it. Now me? If I were you, I would’ve reached over and snapped my neck. Injuries be damned. I get it though, must be that so-called honor you humans adore indulging in. Can’t say it hasn’t infected me unfortunately, I didn’t really feel like finishing you off after you hit your head either. It would’ve been an empty victory. Pretty lame way to get out of it if I’m being honest.”

You tilt your head with a squint, searching for his eyes again and finding them as he drops his head back to send you a cheeky simper. 

“Just saying.”

You tear away from him, sinking into the water before rising again to rearrange the soaked strands of your hair.

“I won’t kill you, yet.”

“Well then,” Sukuna preens, derision oozing into his cadence, “I’m looking forward to your next attempt.”

_________________

You and Sukuna begin to meet there consistently.

Just until you heal, you promise yourself.

It isn’t even as though every meeting is on purpose, he just so happens to be in the area when you are.

A wordless, regular cadence where you bathe and Sukuna does the same, except you stay back to back.

At first, you don’t break apart the silences by bringing up sorcerers or most other related circumstances, it just comes off much too taboo.

You also didn’t want to give him any advantages for future fights.

So, you talk about everything else.

What the clouds are shaped like, his philosophies on the world, your hometown.

Sukuna knew quite a lot, you suppose due to his years spent roaming the country.

It makes you more and more curious about how he came to be what he is. You try to not address it, but it gnaws at you. Dancing at the tip of your tongue.

He seems to feel the same way, being quite frank and open with his own questions and replies.

Despite your efforts, one day Sukuna offhandedly mentions that he was once a sorcerer.

Just like you.

_________________

“All you sorcerers are the same. You lie to yourselves and everyone around you.” He rolls a pebble between his fingers and occasionally tosses it in the air.

You can see it arc over the top of his head, plummet down and start again. Sukuna had begun this cycle as soon as you had said something he disagreed with, likely something banal and harmless like how helping the weak is what sorcerers do.

“You make so many baseless assumptions, do you ever get tired of jumping to conclusions so often?”

“Baseless?” The pebble falls and he swipes it into his hand, “Not at all. I used to be a sorcerer, so I can make all the fucking assumptions I would like.”

That piques your full interest.

You openly stare at him now, ignoring the pounding in your ears from such an arbitrary, shared confession.

“So why do you do it?”

“What?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs, and it’s all loose heaves of muscle in that small gesture.

“I want power.”

“For what?”

“Same reason anyone probably does. Isn’t that why you’re a sorcerer? For power to do with what you want?”

He crosses his arms behind his head, leaning to look at you as he rests back on the woven appendages.

The insinuation makes you press your lips together before speaking.

“Yes, but not like you. You kill innocent people, sorcerers and nonsorcerers alike, and you show complete disregard for them. It’s hateful.”

“I don’t hate them,” Sukuna meets your eyes, and you dutifully ignore the burning scarlet held within them, “They’re just in my way. Plus, innocence is subjective. Don’t act like sorcerers or humans you know haven’t thought the same. Done even worse.”

“Well, not on the mass scale you have.”

“Not that you know of.” He scoffs.

“Do you know? Since you used to be a sorcerer and seem to know every goddamn thing about it-”

“I know because I killed those sons of bitches years ago.” His hands fall back into the water, “Look, I’m no saint, we’ve established that. But is having strength so evil? Sorcerers and curses know what that answer is, we’re just waiting to see who will get out of the way first. After that, who knows what will happen. Whoever wins will decide what is considered right, and that’ll be it.”

Sukuna hums in thought, and then rolls his shoulders back with a grumble.

“Whether that includes heart or morals, who fucking cares. The definitions keep changing anyway.”

You scowl at his aloof attitude, “I like the kinder definitions.”

The rebuttal has Sukuna’s nose scrunching with revulsion, “No offense, but there’s hundreds completely different from it. Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” 

The argument comes out like your heart bared between your teeth.

Sukuna is firm as he looks down his nose at you, “You aren’t the world.”

As if you expected him to say otherwise.

Even so, the snide point hits its mark, “I never said I was. I’m no saint either, but I like to think the world can be much more than you described.”

“It’s not. This is all we got.” He opens his hands wide, and the sun weaves through his fingers.

Flashes of verdant trees and distant villages scattered below snow capped mountain tops dance across the edges of his arms.

Unspeakable beauty that you swore to protect.

“It’s all you’ve got.”

You raise your chin, absorbing the outlines of the villages before whipping your head back to the grimacing curse.

“You’re right, we’re going to constantly be keeping the balance between sorcerers, humans, and curses. It’s precarious and annoying as all hell, but these are people’s lives. You may think they’re weak, but to know the world is terrible and yet choose to live among all of the curse related incidents and regular bullshit anyway is power. And what are you doing? Sure, what are some sorcerers doing? Preying on that bravery while hiding behind some preconceived notion of what power really is and what it should give them. You may try to twist your logic into justifying that humans are in the way or useless to the overall battle between stronger forces outside of their control, but my god is that not fucking exhausting and pointless as well? That’s great for you if you don’t mind it, but I do. Kill, don’t kill. If it truly doesn’t matter- If it’s all the same, why do any of it? Why choose to intentionally perpetuate more suffering if it’s going to happen without your help? You’re just- It’s fucking despicable, you know that?”

Anger burns the back of your throat and flushes your forehead with thin perspiration. 

“Maybe,” You finally say, “Yes, we are the same. I’ve done awful, irreversible things. Killed when it wasn’t necessary, but I still try. I want to keep trying to be better for the people who deserve it. Like this village. Can you understand that?”

The water stills with a silence so palpable you can feel it pressing on your chest. The spray of steam relieves little tension with its hushed puffs into the solemn, thickened air.

You don’t say anything more, and eventually Sukuna leaves the hot spring.

_________________

He doesn’t return for days.

You don’t mind it.

In fact, you hope it stays that way.

You entertain the thought with a smile, ruffling the ends of your hair to shake the water out.

The amusement follows you as you walk through the forest back home, but then you hear a noise in the trees.

“Sukuna?”

As soon as you say the name, you cover your mouth as if you’ve just accidentally uttered a secret meant only for the dead to hear. Your shoulders tense up by your ears, and you stop in the middle of the forest floor. You wait, doing your best to listen past the chirp of birds and the overbearing rhythm in your chest.

The wind is the only answer you get, however, so you manage to relax until you hear a twig snap.

You jerk your head around, and that’s when the air rushes out of your chest.

Of course, it’s him.

It’s always him.

You’re beginning to toy with the idea that this forest is haunted by an emptiness, save for you two.

“Hi.” 

Sukuna waves in a casual manner more adjacent to two friends who had unexpectedly run into each other at the market rather than a curse and the sorcerer tasked with hunting him.

“What?” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s very nice to see you too.”

That cheeky comment makes you roll your eyes, “Move or speak, I don’t care which one you choose.”

“You’re so scary, you know that?” He leans in close, showing all of his teeth and mimicking curling his fingers into claws around his jaw.

Another glare.

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna throws his hands up in exasperation, and then scratches the top of his head.

“Yes?”

The curse rolls his shoulders back, shifting his weight between his feet.

He seems…nervous. But that can’t be right.

The uncertain revelation is startled out of your mind by his next few words, “I was thinking about what you said. You were right.”

The words rush out in jilted succession, like he forced them to escape before he held them in for the rest of his days.

You can only stare at him, and his eyes seem stuck on yours. Like he’s searching for something akin to approval.

“A child was lost in the woods here yesterday. I came across it and…it asked if I was a bear.” He laughs at the memory, and the sound of it without any sort of mirth or irony was unnervingly pleasant and normal.

“Such a feisty little thing, calling me a rude beast and demanding a piggyback ride home to their mother. Since, according to the kid, she would be sad that they got eaten by an ugly bear. It reminded me of what you said. Humans do everything they can to live despite unfathomable conditions. It’s a power many curses lack-”

“What did you do with the child?”

You know of one local boy that matched that description, Megumi Fushigurou, all sass and adorable chubby cheeks with a penchant for berry picking in the forest until sundown and his mother feared he was lost.

“I carried it back to the village, the damn thing complained the whole way but we made it safe and sound.” Sukuna rubs the back of his neck with disdain hissing out from his canines, “Did I mention it’s a pretty convincing power?”

You swallow in epiphany, he wasn’t lying.

You had seen the little boy with his mother earlier in the day. The village hadn’t had any cases of missing residents or violent crimes for a while either.

You don’t know how Sukuna manages to read your face, but he steps forward close enough to make your breath hitch. 

“I’m apologizing, if you couldn’t tell.” He rests a hand on top of your head, a heavy warmth that matches the sudden softness of his tone.

“I’m…trying. Just like you.”

The touch is brief due to Sukuna retracting it as soon as you register the weight of his palm. Your vision startles to the curse above you, and it becomes instantly captivated.

Every inhale is noticeable, the taut expanse of his chest rising and falling more delicately than you would have guessed for a murderer like him.

Sukuna’s lashes almost brush the structured perch of his cheeks when he looks at you, and you turn on your heel as soon as the sight breaches your field of vision.

Something about how unexpectedly pretty Sukuna is always causes your stomach to churn.

“Denial goes a long way.” You shrug, and the robe you donned earlier slips off one of your shoulders, “But, you’re welcome.”

You can feel Sukuna following the fall of fabric with his eyes, “Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you too…for listening, even though I was kind of mean.”

“You’re welcome, I needed to hear it.”

Before you can help it, you peer at him from over your exposed shoulder and fail to tug the corners of your lips down to neutralize your expression.

“Does this mean you’ll stop being a murdering, pillaging asshole?”

“Maybe.” He grins and opens his arms wide, “Will you?”

You’re punching him in a heartbeat, and he guffaws so loud and openly that your resolve drops in your stomach.

It’s uncertain whether it was only for a moment then, or completely.

_________________

Sorcerers are crowded around a table, pounding its surface and causing the paper maps strewn across to crinkle and fly.

The meeting had started almost two hours ago, and both you and the elder sitting at the head of the conference looked exhausted by the possibility of being there for another second.

“He’s been too quiet.” One says, staring at the inked out rivers and mountains surrounding the town.

“Thank her for that.” Another juts his thumb at you, and you lean forward to feign biting it off before he flinches his hand back into his lap.

“We haven’t gotten any attacks since you fought him.” He mumbles, and you sit up at that fact.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we have nothing to go on. Because you didn’t finish the job, he probably fucking left.”

You blankly stare at him, and he shies away in embarrassment after the elder speaks up.

“That’s not true. The surrounding villages haven’t had any incidents. He must still be here. Laying low.”

You process the statements and theories, your mind spinning.

Right. Laying low.

Nodding along to the shouts and conversations, you pretend to agree while imagining Sukuna’s laugh.

His eyes shut in contentment while his head is thrown back and his hands clutching at his stomach or chest, the sun filtering through his hair and skirting over the immaculate planes of his face.

You can picture it so well you could practically reach out and touch him. Memorizing his features had been part of your mission while hunting for him, but lately your mind was beginning to conjure so many more different images of him than before.

Not just how he looks, but how he smells and feels. The way water and the forest laps at the tattoos on his skin.

A calming, yet incredibly distinct combination of senses.

One you hope sparks more spite the next time the curse crosses your mind.

The knowledge that Sukuna’s death is your duty simmers your temper as the sorcerers around you bicker.

You don’t grasp any desire within you to have anyone else involved.

“Calm yourselves,” You shake your head, “He’s laying low, but no one can hide forever. I’m already tracking him.”

_________________

Time only continues to pass in that perfect, little bubble you and Sukuna have created for yourselves.

The entire experience is bringing you a puzzling agony you grow less and less tolerant of.

Physically, you heal quicker than expected, and Sukuna only continues to become bolder and bolder following his own healing.

“You seem upset today.”

“Not.” The answer leaves you as forcefully as the clumps of grass you’ve been pulling out of the ground while sitting on the edge of the hot spring.

Your feet agitatedly swirl in the water, and you flick another handful of blades off to the side.

“So you are.” He wades over to you, and you place a protective hand on the hem of your robe resting across your thigh.

The act only makes him grin, so you return your focus to the decimated plants under your other palm. However,  you soon yelp in surprise when Sukuna dives head first into the water and then suddenly resurfaces between your knees.

He wraps his fingers around the curve of your thigh, “Need some relief? You being more of a brat than usual is really getting on my nerves.”

“I’m not mad. Just thinking.” You huff, sounding immensely angry.

Sukuna only seems to register the fact that you’re staying under his touch, and he sinks in his nails a bit. Not enough to draw blood, just to test the bounce of your skin and how the water transfers from his touch.

The warm water glosses over the plush of your legs, and to your horror, Sukuna bends down to observe the shifting luster more closely, the swell of his bottom lip drawing heat as it hovers near your core.

It suddenly feels too hot.

The hunger in his eyes isn’t lost on you when he tilts his head up. You didn’t know rose petals could bloom away from the earth, but the crimson of Sukuna’s eyes begs you to reconsider. Once he seems to have his fill of your shaky gaze, he ducks his head back to your lap.

“Normally, it’s kind of cute when you’re upset.” His thumbs rub circles all the way beneath your clothing and up to your hips.

The motion only ignites more fire in you, “But I’m getting concerned. The forest won’t survive if you keep tearing it up like that.”

A chuckle is imprinted in the kiss he presses to the top of your thigh, and you let out a gasp so close to a whispery soft whimper that you pray to the gods Sukuna didn’t hear it.

“I can help you feel better.” Rumbles of dark desire coat the purr of his throat as his lips tread inward, “You sound like you want to. Am I wrong?”

He heard.

Then, in one swift motion, he hoists your calves over his shoulders, and water is streaming off of his body and down the lines of his chin as his eyes meet yours.

Every drop racing down his figure incites petty jealousy in you. You want to touch him. Not in any familiar, destructive way you have previously. Gently and sinfully, with languid licks to the crevices of muscle gathering water. You want to feel his body twitch and contract, and how he groans at the rugged texture of your tongue. Your throat hollows in response to that epiphany, and then it becomes saturated with ill controlled saliva. 

At that, you swing your legs off of him, and he catches you in the crook of one of his arms as you attempt to scramble to your feet.

“Get away from me!”

The hissed out words indicate otherwise, as neither of you escape from your holds on each other.

Sukuna’s hand is bracing your forearm, and he has others wrapped around one of your ankles, on the small of your back. 

Every point of contact absolutely burns.

“You hate me, don’t you?” 

The word hate seems to have a poison specifically sharpened for your conscience.

But the answer doesn’t come to mind.

You should know the answer.

It should be easy, laughably so, rather than something bitter choking your throat.

Where did it go? Where did it leave you?

“You still do.”

It’s not an accusation from him this time, more of a wounded statement.

Murky silence is the only companion to his words, and you offer no other to join them.

Once Sukuna’s grip loosens, you manage to steady yourself and leave.

_________________

The forest clearing greets you with the chirps of crickets and birds the next time you manage to drag yourself back.

Even the bubbling of the hot spring is lively, the steam coating the air and any bare skin you have exposed.

You wait beside it in your everyday attire, needing some semblance of a barrier between you and Sukuna if he ever chose to make his appearance. The loose fitting fabric was thicker than your bathing robes, but less rigid and formal than your sorcerer uniform.

You had spent some time over the passing days to toil over your last conversation with the curse. Sukuna’s question concerning the hatred you held for him being the major thought occupying your mind.

The answer was actually quite obvious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it any louder than the soft echo in your head yet.

Practicing it seems pathetic, but when you open your mouth to try Sukuna is striding towards you.

He has no humor in his face, all harsh corners and lines, but that entire demeanor vanishes upon seeing you stand and give him a hesitant wave in greeting.

“What’s this?” Sukuna approaches close enough to pinch the fine cloth gathered at your elbow, “You know I like what I see, you don’t have to cover up.”

The contact makes you flinch away, and a tortured look knits Sukuna’s eyebrows together.

He backs up, holding up his hands and covering up his expression with a half hearted smile.

You never thought your chest would ache at any hint of him being unhappy.

“Okay, okay. Tell you what. Kill me if you’d like.” He bargains, running a hand through his hair, “I know you hate me.”

That word again.

So much bite and emotion to it that it floods your chest with the fresh sting of tears.

“I can’t hate you!”

The outburst forces Sukuna back, and the impact seems to force his eyes wide open. 

You swallow your next few words, rethink them, swallow again.

Finally, they crawl out of your chest, “At least, not anymore.”

Truthfully you had always been better with your fists than your words, and you had never wished for the opposite until now.

Sukuna seems to register your claim, but remains silent.

You think he’s going to say something, bracing yourself for it by sweeping your eyes to the tree tops and then to the pebbles speckling the ground.

Still, Sukuna is silent.

The air becomes colder, blades of grass and your shoulders trembling. A desperation deep seated within you blooms in one last attempt to escape this mortifying mess.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

A passive stretch of time is the only response you get.

Motherfucker.

As if your own shame and embarrassment wasn’t enough.

Lunging at him, your hands encase his neck with a strangled sound of utter frustration.

You have your full strength now.

You could kill him now.

Then, Sukuna places his hands over yours.

Instead of tensing, you relax completely.

He runs his thumbs over your knuckles, tempering the rage encased inside.

The sentiment in his eyes is far too soft for the murderous narrowing of your own.

It’s as infuriating as it is endearing. 

You catch yourself wondering why you hold the power here, but it feels hopelessly lost when Sukuna holds you like this.

One of his hands travels across your arm, finding home in the cup of your cheek.

There it is again, his thumb stroking your skin like the shining facet of a jewel he can’t quite yet catch in the light. A breeze follows the placating touch, and you can’t tell which causes you to shiver.

He sighs, so defeated and low that you feel it mirrored in the tightness of your chest.

“If I say something…We’ll do something.”

The words ghost across his lips in the sweetest mumble you’ve ever heard. 

You blink distractedly at the movement of his mouth, pink flesh moving over white teeth, “Do what?”

Saliva pools under your tongue, and you bite down on the swell of your bottom lip to suppress the gnawing appetite rising in your stomach. 

His stare falters, his lashes fluttering down with peeks of ardent vermillion between, and then falls to the ground wordlessly.

You feel the comforting weight of it dissipate, and suddenly you’re weaker than before.

“Can you-” Your hands falter, lowering to grab at the collar of his clothing, the fabric clumping in your wobbly hands, “Just show me?”

Sukuna deftly reaches back, placing his hands along your hips and pulling you close.

You can sense fire pulsing under your skin as he continues in deliberate, measured fragments. His eyes never leave yours, all dilated pupils and honeyed warmth. He cups your lower back, the fabric beneath his palms shifting.

Gradually, he starts inching them up the sides of your waist. Squeezing and gripping portions of your curves with airy hums of thought.

You can’t breathe. 

This silence is more purposeful than the last.

You both know what it implies, though Sukuna seems intent on making that knowledge undeniably transparent.

The kiss arrives as your eyes flutter shut, and Sukuna’s lips on yours taste like mutual devastation.

He tilts his head, the kiss deepening and unfurling butterflies in your stomach.

You lightly bite down on his bottom lip before swiping your tongue across the achingly soft surface, and he immediately grants you access with a low groan. 

You don’t want to fight anymore. You want to surrender.

Curious hands roam along your body as the kiss deepens, stroking your cheek, the back of your neck and encircling your torso.

For someone so feared and strong, he possesses an astonishing gentleness that any prior replication of affection you’ve ever received now seems poor and revolting.

The tips of his fingertips skirt the hems of your clothing, and then they’re against bare skin. Soft tugs have your robes sliding down, and you gasp as the frigid temperature of air raises goosebumps over your skin. Chills kiss at your shoulder blades and up to the back of your neck.

Sukuna draws back, hooking his fingers into the fabric slung across his shoulder as he drags it over his head and reveals the familiar lines of muscle carved into his sides. The latter disappears into his pants, which reveals the tented mound between his legs. Despite the brief interruption, he presses you close to his chest the instant his top half is free from the restrictive material.

And he kisses you.

Kiss after kiss after kiss.

You occasionally flit your eyes open between locks of tongue and curse words stuck to the roof of your mouth, only to squeeze your eyes shut from enduring Sukuna firmly grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

His nails lightly graze your scalp, and he alternates between rough tugs and careful consolations down the back of your neck. 

“I’ve never desired anyone or anything more than you.” He pants, and you wince at the desperate rasp of the declaration.

Your pussy is sapped with want, and your hips sway when he rests his hands past them.

“Fuck.” Sukuna sighs, fondling the soft mounds of your ass in his palms.

He spreads them apart, and a jolt of adrenaline shoots up your spine.

“You flinched.” He chuckles, biting your ear lobe.

The electricity in the point of his canine nicking your skin has you throwing your arms around his neck, and you hide in the nape of his neck with a whimper.

Sukuna acknowledges the sound by carefully holding up your wrists one by one and then rolling your sleeves up to your forearms to undress you. The abandoned robes petal around your ankles onto the forest floor, and Sukuna returns your arms to crossing behind his neck.

He tilts his head, his eyes simmering as they rake over your bare skin,” Well, look at you.” 

Your elbows lock as your knees buckle, a sequence of motion vastly contrasting the vexed way you had gripped his neck only moments ago.

Sukuna catches you instinctively, hoisting your legs around his waist and clasping you to his front.

Your pussy drools at the flush of rigid heat pressed in the middle of your thighs, and you can hear Sukuna licking his lips as his hips support your weight, “Can you take it? I’m sure you can.”

The curve of his neck hides your face, but you know he can feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks when you stare down the scars of his back to see him tucking a thumb into his waistband.

The empty pocket between his skin and his pants only becomes more revealing, and you swallow as his entire frame soon becomes bare.

Sukuna keeps you settled close against his body, even when the cotton threads you sopped with your arousal get tugged away from you.

Then, you’re skin to skin.

You can sense his hardness before you even get a glimpse.

“F…fuck.”

The word is breathy and pained in your ear, and your own mouth falls open in a soundless gasp.

Every touch is scorching and placating at the same time, like every nerve in your body is perked and alert. So sensitive and ready that no point of contact goes unrecognized.

You want more. Need more. You can feel the ask escape your lips even as the thought fogs your mind.

The tops of your thighs are molded together by Sukuna’s heavy grip around them, and you use that to leverage your hips forward and back.

The bottom of your slit kisses the base of his cock as the length of it throbs against your stomach, and you slot your tongue into Sukuna’s mouth with reckless abandon.

“You-” Sukuna begins, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, “Are so cute like this. All desperate and needy.”

“Shut up.” You reply simply, sucking at the corner of his mouth with continued fervor.

The meaningless command has him chuckling, but then the back of your neck is wrapped in his palm.

“Sure, I’ll shut you up.”

He deepens the kiss the next time his cupid’s bow meets your own, and your mind is so fuzzy you hardly register that Sukuna has carried you into the hot spring.

The humid heat of it rises along your waist, and Sukuna trails a few affectionate kisses along your jawline and down behind your ear before swiveling your hips to have you face away from him.

Droplets of water cascade down the slope of your back, and a wanton cry escapes your throat when Sukuna stripes them up to your shoulder blades with the point of his tongue.

You buck your hips back at the touch, whining when you feel his length behind you.

This seems to encourage him to explore your back with consideration, eventually lifting your hips and hissing out a strained sound of gratification when the tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

Strings of water and precum adorn the crown of his swollen cockhead, and you slightly wriggle your hips to get more of it inside.

“Put it in.” You demand softly, biting your lip as you attempt to peek over your shoulder and down your back.

Sukuna automatically brings your hips lower, and your eyelashes flutter as he gradually guides you onto his girth.

“Mhm- Yeah, put it in. More.” Your tongue unfurls, and Sukuna swears from the excitement in your voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He lets out a gasp so full of primal wonder that it comes out as more of a growl, his eyelids flitting over his rolled up eyes.

The whites of his gaze belatedly return to those scarlet irises you adore, his mouth remaining slacked with a strained moan when he draws his hips back.

“Feels good?” You manage to pant, digging your nails into the back of his wrists.

“I love it. Thank you, the sweetest girl for me.”

The sting of his cock stretching open your walls is so addictive that the languid slides into your slick heat are audible.

“Thank you-mm. Fuck, thank you.”

Sukuna crouches to lick at the shell of your ear with a lengthy curl of his tongue, “Best pussy I’ve ever fucking felt.”

You spend some time drinking in each other’s moans, how your bodies fit together and the symphony of movement driving your shared pleasure.

Little time is spared by you for further speaking, and Sukuna quickly learns how to read your every flinch and wail.

He finds the perfect pace to bounce you up and down his cock, the aching preference you have for his tongue twisting around yours as you ride out your orgasms along the thick spine of his girth.

“Is this good?” He asks, full well knowing the answer, “Is this spot good?”

“You’re doing it wrong.” You huff, sarcasm punctuating the lie.

An immediate pause.

“Am I?” Sukuna grinds lazily against your sticky walls, “This isn’t the right way?”

Your mouth falls open, and you spread your legs wider as your insides wind snugly around his cock. 

He plunges inside more slowly, nudging at your cheek with his nose, “Tell me how wrong it is.”

Utterly stuffed, no other argument escapes you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The curse smirks, but even the upturned corner of his mouth in your peripheral wobbles.

It’s incredibly adorable, but you have little time to dwell on it when Sukuna begins to slam into you faster.

You can sense him everywhere now, gripping your arms, his lips sucking soft spots onto your neck, and his hips grinding into yours until your mind is foggy and your screams turn coarse.

“God, your pussy just melts on my cock. Such a bratty cunt, but fuck - Think I like spoling you. Giving you what you need even when you can't ask for it.”

He draws out the curse, gunning into your cunt recklessly. You can feel the plush of your ass rippling against the constant pistoning of his hips.

“You feel that too? You feeling my dick? Good. Good.”

Every compliment hangs off of his tongue like he doesn’t want it to leave before he can get another quick and purposeful thrust in. Threads of thick saliva and precum knit your mutual bliss together, and you can feel his unruly cockhead rubbing creamy circles into the ceiling of your pussy.

“So wet.” Sukuna’s tongue clicks beside your ear while he continues fucking you up and down his lap in buzzing pulses.

He has an uncanny sense of when you’re close to the edge, as he’ll reel his hips back and only resume motion after your tightness minimally subsides. 

The lack of release has you feeling entirely helpless, even though every time Sukuna is back to ramming your insides to near completion, you become so stupidly out of touch you forget the consequences and take it.

Every. Fucking. Time.

Not talking was a choice before, but now it’s an impossibility, only your cries punctuating the air with shamelessness.

Your pussy is runny and sloppy from the overflow of desperation. The loud squish of it is echoed by the excited hums of approval Sukuna allows to coat the back of your neck.

“Hey, I love you. You know that right?”

Sukuna bends your throat up higher, kissing and tonguing at the spots of it that he can access between his fingers. 

“I love you. You’re mine.”

“You love me?” The question comes out garbled and pathetic, but it makes Sukuna kiss behind your earlobe with a tenderness you never thought could exist.

“I do. I love you. Just look at you.” He strains, one of his hands pressing down on your stomach.

“Oh God,” You observe the brutal penetration beneath you with awe, “What do I do?”

You don’t know why you’re asking, you just feel as though you have to ask him.

“What - do I -” The question is barely comprehensible with cries and ecstatic moans, but Sukuna answers you anyway.

“Take it. Take it all.”

The simple suggestion has your muscles clenching before you fully relax.

“That’s it. T-That’s it. Just like you’ve been doing-shit. Right there, yeah? I got it.” Sukuna pants, and when you crane your cheek back you catch a glimpse of the wild carnage in his glossy, dilated pupils.

It feeds your ego much more than it should.

“You’ve done it. You’re killing me.” He shudders, shoving you onto his cock with so much need that you can hardly tell one thrust from the next.

You gasp out as you clutch at the back of Sukuna’s neck, staring at him with widely blown out pupils and shaky breaths.

“Then, die for me.”

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the sentiment, as if he was eager to accept the total mercy of death as long as it was under your hand.

Sukuna’s hips continue gunning upwards into your flooded cunt, his tongue slotting into your mouth with whiny urgency and his arms tightening around your convulsing figure.

You feel like you’re bursting at the seams, cloudy and dumb with nothing but the heat of Sukuna’s body in your head.

You can feel yourself all over the fat, greedy rushes of his cock.

A warm and gushy mess saturated with praise and pleasure.

“Sukuna!”

The name leaves your mouth with an eruption of paradise springing from your sex, and Sukuna holds you as your body seizes with quivers.

He keeps you upright, doing those slow pumps that drove you crazy back when you were desperate to cum.

Now, they are soothing and filling. Sensual.

Sukuna lets you ride out your high until you’re loose and hoarse in his hold.

Feeling totally spent, you let him rearrange you against his frame and he gives the crown of your head a soft kiss once your cheek is leaning against his collarbone.

“Can I see?” He taps your lower back, voice rough and entreating.

You raise your head, and then provide him with a sleepy nod.

Sukuna pecks your forehead with a grin, and then effortlessly picks you up to rest your thighs over his shoulders.

“Oh wow.” He says, as if witnessing something so wondrous and rare that he can’t tear his gaze away from the sight.

The low exclamation makes you involuntarily squeeze and drip, creamy traces of Sukuna’s fluids oozing out with your own.

You can almost see the want spark in his eyes, deep maroon and curious.

He interlocks two of his hands behind your spine, using another hand to spread your lips apart and swallowing hard when your pussy seeps out more of your shared arousal. 

The last of his hands reaches out to rub at your clit with the pad of a finger, and Sukuna licks his lips when you wind your hips down to meet his finger faster.

He looks up at you, a wordless ask, and you answer by tugging his head toward your core.

Sukuna reacts with a muffled grunt, lolling out his tongue and loudly lapping up your juices the second his tongue gets a taste of you.

You squirm in his hold, “Oh god, Sukuna!”

He pinches your slippery nub between his fingers, poking his tongue into the bottom of your leaking slit and then scooping his tongue upwards through the seams.

His taste buds sweep against the grip of your walls, and harsh breaths line your throat as he selfishly explores every inch of your pussy that he already laid to waste with his cock.

“Finish one more time for me.” He rapidly murmurs, his nails digging into your thighs.

“I d-don’t think I can!” You squeak, afraid that the knot in your stomach will snap much more intensely than the first time.

Sukuna seems to take that as a challenge.

He’s undeniable, scorching your flesh with determination and ardent gulps. The tip and flat of his tongue aggressively writhe inside and squelch along your wetness. It’s nearly unbelievable how turned on you are from seeing one of the most powerful curses in the world buried in your cunt.

Your center only becomes more and more taut, which forces Sukuna to act even more starved. The point of Sukuna’s nose bumps against your engorged nub, and he spends such a dedicated amount of time outlining your most sensitive spots with his tongue that your eyes roll into black.

He latches his mouth around your sore bud, flicking and swirling his tongue around it until you mewl his name over and over again.

Liquid bliss coats his tongue, and you can vaguely feel the tired smirk when he makes you cum in his mouth one last time.

Exhaustion sets in hard for you as well, and Sukuna catches you in his arms to return you to his lap.

Once you’re settled again, Sukuna grants you another passionate kiss on the lips. Tasting yourself on his tongue has you wanting more of him, but the heavy drag of your eyelids dissuades you from asking for more.

Although you know now that he would do anything for you.

“I was always looking for you.” You breathe, the authenticity of your admission lighting up Sukuna’s visage.

He is so beautiful like that, eyes glistening with obvious affection and a weary beam. The blossom shade of his hair is damp and raked back, and the olive of his skin is covered with streams of water from the hot spring. A light sheen of sweat also adorns the nape of his neck and biceps, and you can start to see the extensive sanguine marks you raked over his toned body. One traverses from the dark, buzzed undercut behind his ear to the top of the black design on his shoulder.

You weakly raise a hand to relieve the broken skin there, but Sukuna catches your hand in his.

He moves stray strands of hair from around your eyes, pressing his lips wherever he can under your eyes and across your cheeks.

“Thank you for always letting me find you.”

Sleep comes to you remarkably easy after that.

_________________

Morning sun skims the dips of your face once you wake up.

You squint your eyes, wondering why you no longer smell the earthiness of the forest.

“Good morning.”

The drowsy greeting catches your attention instantly, and you sit up to find yourself in your own bed.

“How-?”

You turn and nearly collide your nose with his chest.

“Easy.” He encircles your shoulders, comfortingly enveloping you in a warm embrace, “First, say good morning back.”

You relax, tentatively reaching up to return the hug, “Good morning.”

Somehow, you can sense the charmed smile spreading across his face, even as he rests his chin atop your head.

He deeply inhales, his large hands moving along your back as you breathe alongside him.

“Better?” Sukuna prompts after a brief passage of time.

“So much better.”

His smile widens, “Good.”

“How did we get here?” You yawn, peering over his shoulder at the scattered sunlight in your bedroom.

“I carried you.” 

You reel back to gape at him with a dubious raise of your brow, “You know where I live?” 

“I followed you home once.” He states matter-of-factly.

Clear offense sprawls across your facial features, “No, you didn’t. I would have sensed you.” 

“Not when you were all pouty and angry with me. It was cute seeing you stomp into your house.”

“Uh huh.” You somewhat acquiesce.

Sukuna’s solid frame shakes with a hearty laugh before he addresses you with a more remorseful tone, “I just had to make sure you got home safely. You’re perfectly capable alone, but you didn’t seem to be in your right mind...I’m sorry, I swear I left as soon as you went in.”

He runs his fingers through your hair as you listen, but all you can think about is how difficult it is to have any lasting anger towards him.

Forgiveness punctuates your subsequent sigh, a drawn out and desolate sound, “I don’t know what to do now. With all the hatred I had for you.”

“For me it’s the same passion, only the direction has changed.” Sukuna softens your shoulder with a delicate kiss.

You reach up to cradle his jaw in the heel of your palm, lightly scratching his hair with your other hand, “What are we going to do?” 

“What would you like for us to do?”

“I want to kill you.” You admit honestly, but with no malice.

Sukuna shrugs with a smitten beam, “You’re the only one who could.”

You smack his bicep, “Sukuna I’m serious! What are we going to do?”

The curse shrugs again, cracking his neck to one side, “We can stage our deaths and run away I suppose. Build a home in the mountains and live there until we’re old and gray. Or, we can live from place to place, see everything there is to see. You’re smarter than me, so whatever you decide. I just don’t want to fight anymore, now that I have you to take care of.”

He twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, watching the light shift in your eyes as you take in the candid suggestions.

“What do you think of that, sweetheart?”

Appreciation floods your chest, “I like those ideas, actually.”

The corners of his eyes crescent with amusement, and then he lets out a thoughtful hum as he draws random shapes into your cheek.

“There will be time for all of that later though. For now, what do you want to do?”

You pause to think over his question, and then resolve to snuggle back into his embrace.

“I want to stay right here. Just like this.”

Sukuna lightly strokes the back of your scalp and then kisses your temple with a content sigh, his lips moving reverently over the skin there.

“How did I get so lucky?”

_________________

End Notes:

hahahaha. i liked this. it just kept getting longer and longer so i just gave in😩😩 it's p much a multichapter fic lowkey LOL but thanks again for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one :)💖💞

ps. i'd like to talk about this one a bit more so if anyone wants to comment or send an ask about it i will reply in-depth!!💝 tyyy<3