#i swear to god i'm going to strangle both of you

[noperopesaredope]

I try my best to not get too political on my blog, especially in complicated and divisive situations like these, but I feel like people need a reminder:

You can support Palestine without being an antisemitic asshole

You can support Israel without being a racist dickhead

You can support either side without generalizing either group or saying that the other group should all die

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot - Part 2

Plot: Your older brother's best friend was a pain in the ass, always seeking the opportunity to mock and tease you. You hated his guts or at least you were pretty sure you did. How can one person be so annoying and simultaneously so utterly attractive? It wasn't fair...

Currently he was sprawled out on the couch at your family's house, ready to spend the night and hang out with your older brother. Now what could go wrong if your brother left the two of you alone to get some last minute beer and snacks?

Warnings: brothers best friend Gojo - virgin reader - thigh riding - getting interrupted - oral (m) - talk about feelings and crying - talk about protection - unprotected sex - cowgirl - missionary - implied multiple rounds - aftercare - awkward morning after with Suguru

Word count: 5.931

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Satoru cursed under his breath when he heard the sound of keys at the front door, mentally strangling his friend for having the worst timing. "Damn it, he's early." He muttered, hastily zipping up his pants and adjusting his shirt to cover his still present bulge, trying to hide the evidence of what you two had been doing.

He grabs you by your hips and lifts you off his lap, setting you down beside him on the couch and casually throwing an arm across the backrest. "Relax, sweetcheeks. Just act natural, okay?”

You too, straighten out as much as possible, throwing a blanket over to him to help him cover his obvious problem right before Suguru walks through the door.

Suguru looks at the both of you suspiciously, before letting out a huff. "You haven't killed each other yet? I'm impressed.", was all he said before placing the shopping bags full of snacks on the coffee table.

Satoru chuckled at his friend's remark and gave a crooked smile. "You doubted me, really? I'm a well-behaved houseguest, remember?" On the outside he tried to act nonchalant but his mind was still on you and the unfinished business between you two. He threw a sidelong glance at you, subtly admiring your appearance and trying to fight the urge to pull you back onto his lap.

“Yeah, of course you are, Satoru.” You say sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. You were impressed with yourself at how stable your voice sounded, not giving away any evidence of the arousal still dripping down your legs. Satoru just chuckled at your sarcastic remark and returned the eye roll with a smirk. He made a mental note to tease you later about how well you were masking your desires.

You turn your attention back to your brother while looking through the grocery bags. “Did you bring my favorite? I swear to God Suguru if you forgot my strawberry lollipops again, I will…” Meanwhile Satoru watched as you started going through the grocery bags, his eyes discreetly traveling down to your legs and noticing the way you squirmed ever so slightly.

“Is it true the weirdo will stay here for the night?” You try to silently communicate with Satoru, hoping he would catch onto your subtle invite to continue where the two of you left off. He nodded subtly in your direction, immediately understanding your hidden message.

He turned back to your brother as well. "Yeah, I'll be crashing here tonight. Got a problem with that, Suguru?” Suguru just raised an eyebrow at our behavior before dismissively waving his hand and walking over to the kitchen aisle to fetch some glasses for the drinks. “When did I ever have a problem with that? And even if, you wouldn't listen anyway…”

You huff out in fake annoyance, still trying not to make your brother suspicious about your behavior. “Whatever. Just make sure to stay away from me as far as possible, Satoru.” He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at your statement, but instead, he smirked in amusement. He had to admit, you were doing a remarkably good job at acting nonchalant.

It was kind of fun. Sneaking around all secretly with him and you decided to tease him just a bit more when you found the bags of your favorite treat. You had to see how far you could take it before the mighty Gojo Satoru would lose his mind. So you take a strawberry lollipop out of the bag, opening it up and plopping it into your mouth. Sucking and licking the sweet candy while holding eye contact with him the whole time and smiling innocently. “Hhm~ Perfect. Such a sweet tasty treat. My favorite. Thanks, Suguru.”

Satoru's smirk faltered slightly when you started sucking and licking that lollipop, the innocent look on your face driving him wild. Gripping the corner of the couch, trying to maintain his composure and feeling a pang of jealousy towards that piece of candy, wishing it was him that you were sucking and licking so eagerly. "Yeah yeah, we all know how much you love candy.”

“Says the one with a sweet tooth himself.” You say teasingly, leaning closer to him, your faces only centimeters apart and you're sure he can smell the sweet breath of strawberry candy from your mouth.

You stand up from the couch, swinging your hips ever so slightly. “I’m going to take a shower. See ya!” You stop at the staircase, looking back over your shoulder and making sure Suguru isn't watching before throwing a wink at him.

He just watched you intently as you stood up and walked towards the staircase, his eyes following your every move. He couldn't help but notice the extra sway in your hips and the way you glanced back at him with that seductive wink. His heart rate picked up and his mind started racing with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you in that shower.

He waited for you to disappear upstairs before throwing a casual "later" in Suguru's direction. Then he stood up and casually walked toward the staircase as well, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Suguru could only roll his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose before muttering a few curses under his breath. He couldn't believe the two of us were this obvious, he thought he taught Satoru better than that. Flopping himself down onto the couch, he unpacked the beer, wanting to drown out the noises he would definitely be hearing in a few minutes.

In the meantime you stood in front of your wardrobe trying to pick out a sexy but subtle outfit for you. You needed something that would leave Satoru mouth watering but not extreme enough to make your brother snap at you. Standing in front of your closet and contemplating, you almost didn't notice the bedroom door swinging open. But when you did, a smirk found its way onto your face and you let out a chuckle. “And a few moments ago you teased me for being eager. Now look at you, Mister Gojo Satoru.”

When you turned around to look at him, your smile slightly faltered. Just maybe you took it a little bit too far. He was chuckling to himself at your comment, closing the door behind him, locking it in place before stalking over to you. “Satoru, I didn't- What are you-” You couldn't even finish your sentence before he practically pounced onto you, his lips on yours in an instant. The kiss hungry and asking for more.

He groaned as he savored the taste of your lips, his hands gripping at your waist to pull you flush against him. He nibbled at your lower lip, tongue darting out to taste the sweetness from that damn lollipop. You throw your arms around his neck, your mouth parting obediently when his tongue demands entrance against your lips. You couldn't help yourself, you were so needy for his attention.

“Satoru~” You mumble out between hot kisses. “Bed. Now, please.” You whine into his mouth, desperately wanting to take this further, to continue where the two of you have left off.

He chuckled huskily against your mouth, loving the way you whined and begged for him. It was music to his ears. He picked you up, his hands firm on your thighs as he carried you over to the bed and laid you down gently onto the sheets. Looking down at you, he took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. His hands roaming across your body, under your shirt and up to your chest. "You want me that bad, huh, sweetcheeks? So needy…”

“You're teasing again.” You whine out impatiently with your lips in a cute little pout and your hands are tucking at his shirt already, wanting it out of the way.

He only chuckled at your pouty expression, finding it irresistibly cute, leaning down and nipping at your bottom lip, he whispered huskily into your ear. "Impatient little thing, aren't you?" He straightened up and pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms. "Can't keep your hands off me, huh? Well, go ahead sweetcheeks. Touch all you want.”

You would have made a snarky comment about his cocky attitude but you were completely in trance the moment his shirt was carelessly discarded onto the floor. Your eyes fixated on his bare skin, the way his muscular abs rippled with every move and the way his toned chest rose and fell with every breath. Your hands landing on the skin just above his pants and traveling up in featherlight touches, resting right against the skin where his heart was beating loudly in his chest. Looking up directly into his beautiful blue orbs and realizing he was already staring back at you. Not being able to hold back the feelings currently stirring inside of you, tears were welling up in your eyes just at the way he looked so beautiful right now.

You couldn't really describe the feeling or why you were so overwhelmed by it but in this moment you felt so safe and secure with him, like you were his, like this was how it was supposed to be. Like you were born to be with him.

He just watched silently as your eyes traveled down his shirtless torso, your touch sending shivers through his body. He could see the admiration and desire in your gaze, and it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. When your eyes meet his, he is struck by the mixture of emotions in your own. The tears beginning to form in your eyes stirred something deep inside him. He reached forward and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Hey, don't cry, sweetcheeks." He whispered softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "Are you okay?”

“I-I'm sorry.” You sniffle, trying to compose yourself and not make a fool out of you. “I don't know what came over me…” You start to gently push him off of you, sitting up slightly and tucking your knees under your chin. He frowned when you tried to push him away, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of losing the intimate moment you had been sharing.

You weren't looking at him but at the space in between the two of you, calling out his name softly. “Satoru? Can I ask you a question? And please take me seriously here…” You didn't wanted to ruin the mood and you knew he didn't like getting all emotional, talking about feelings and such but you needed to talk about this before moving any further.

He could see the vulnerability in your eyes and knew that this wasn't something he could just brush off with a dismissive joke. "Of course, you can ask me anything. What's on your mind, sweetcheeks?”

“I'm yours, right? After this night, I mean? After we do…this?” You knew Satoru was a ladies man. Always fooling around and having every woman swoon over him. Up until now you have never seen him being in a serious relationship or even twice with the same girl but tonight was about your virginity and the fact that you were willing to give it up to him. “I am yours and you are mine after this, right?” You meet his eyes again, your voice shaky and lips trembling slightly as tears start to well up again. Trying to wipe them away with the back of your hand and getting frustrated at the fact you were so vulnerable in front of him. You needed him, more than you thought you ever would and you didn't know what to do if he broke your heart in two after tonight.

He could see the vulnerability and fear in your teary eyes, and it tugged at his heartstrings. He had never seen you like this before, so raw and open, but he couldn't deny that it was endearing. He gently reached out and took your trembling hand in his, holding it firmly. "Yes. After tonight, I'm yours. And you're mine." He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. "You don't have to worry about anything, sweetcheeks. I'm not going anywhere. I'm all yours."

Sitting in his lap made you relax a bit, the sincerity of his words calming you down immensely. Your arms around his shoulders were holding him close to you and your face was buried in his neck, inhaling his scent. He just holds you close, his hands still soothingly rubbing your back as he lets you soak in the comfort of his embrace. He could feel your body trembling slightly as you nestled into his neck, and he gently pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

The whole situation reminded you of the purpose you two had landed in your bed in the first place and also makes you extremely aware about the wetness in your panties and the bulge in his pants beneath you.

The vulnerability of the confession is still lingering in the air. Love and adoration was added to the carnal desire and need for one another. “Then, then claim me.” You let out in a shaky breath, followed by your hips grinding down into his lap, just like he had shown you before. Your arms reaching up and taking off your own shirt.

When you spoke those words a low growl rumbled in his throat, his arms tightening around you. His eyes roamed over your naked torso, taking in every inch of exposed skin with hunger. "Mine" He breathed, his voice raspy with desire.

“Only yours." You echo back at him in a whisper. Your hands finding purchase on his belt buckle, opening up his pants and looking at him with a mixture of love and lust. You move off his lap and immediately notice the confusion in his eyes, making you giggle before taking off your skirt, leaving you standing in front of him in nothing but your panties.

Sitting down on your knees in front of him, looking up with big, innocent eyes. He watched you intently as you sat at his feet, his breath catching at the sight of your bare body. You looked so beautiful, so eager to please him, and he couldn't help but be captivated by you. “I need you to guide me through this, Satoru. Need you to teach me what makes you feel good, please. How to do this right…”

He reached out and gently caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Of course, sweetcheeks. I'll guide you through everything." He shifted forward on the bed, his legs bracketing you as he looked down at you with a smile. "Come here.”

You lean your face closer into his lap. Your trembling hands tenderly reach out to take him out of his underwear. Your eyes widening slightly at his size and you had to gulp down some air, suddenly feeling very intimidated. But you need him to be proud of you and bite back your concern, willing to learn and trusting him to help you through this. With a last look into his eyes for reassurance, your tongue darts out to lick his tip gently.

The feeling of your tongue on him sent a jolt of pleasure through his body and he let out a strangled groan. He watched with a mixture of awe and need as you gently touched him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Resisting the urge to buck his hips forward and wanting to give you time to explore and get used to the feeling. "That's it, sweetcheeks. You're doing so good for me.”

When you taste him on your tongue for the first time, you couldn't help the moan that escaped your throat and when he groaned out at the pleasure, you feel a sense of pride. You're gaining more and more confidence and decide to take him further into you. The unfamiliar feeling makes your eyes sting with tears. You liked this. Liked his taste, his sounds, the way you could make him feel good and you kind of wish he wouldn't hold himself back anymore.

He could see the tears welling up in your eyes, and part of him wanted to stop you, to make sure you weren't pushing yourself too far. But the sight of you, so eager and willing to please him, was too much to resist. His fingers find their way into your hair, gently guiding your motions. "Relax your throat, sweetcheeks. Breathe through your nose." He said huskily, his voice filled with both desire and concern.

You hum around him, trying to follow his advice instantly. You didn't know that the vibrations would have such a strong affect on him and you feel his body shiver from pleasure above you. He lets out a guttural moan. "God, you're so good at this." He said, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair. He could feel himself getting close already after all the pent up desire from earlier, the pleasure building up quickly and he fought to control himself. He didn't want to finish too quickly and make a fool out of himself. "Sweetcheeks, you need to slow down.”

You looked up at him through teary eyes, slowing down your movement, your tongue still swirling around him, not willing to let go of his taste and the heavy feeling of him against your tongue. Your face showed confusion, wondering if you did something wrong or if you interpreted this all wrong and he didn't like what you were doing.

He groaned as you slowed down, his grip in your hair relaxing. "No, no, you're doing so good, sweetcheeks." He reassured you, his gaze on you filled with need and admiration. He knew he couldn't let himself go just yet, he wanted to make sure this was enjoyable for you too. But it was becoming harder and harder to hold back and so he took the safe route. "Pull off, sweetcheeks. Come here.”

You pull off of him with a lewd plopping sound, your lips pouting slightly and he couldn't help but chuckle, finding you irresistibly cute. He reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip which was still glistening with saliva. "Don't worry, sweetcheeks. I'll take care of you. Just trust me." He said, his voice low and soothing.

He pulled you up and closer, making you straddle his lap in front of him, with one leg on either side of his hips. "Lean forward and hold onto my shoulders.”

When you follow his instructions and lean forward, you unknowingly hold your bare chest right in front of his face. He felt his breath hitch at the sight of you so close to his face. Your skin was so smooth and beautiful, untouched and innocent. Just like you. As if you were a work of art made just for him. Your tiny hands clutch onto his broad shoulders for stability and you eagerly wait for his next instructions.

“I trust you, Satoru.” Your words are softly spoken and full of love, locking eyes with his and blinking up at him. His hands find your hips, gently guiding you to straddle him more tightly. He could feel your weight on him, your body pressed flush against his. "Now, slowly lower yourself down onto me. Take your time." He whispered in your ear, his voice low and gentle.

But you don't follow, instead your brows furrow in a moment of uncertainty. “Condom…” You whisper out. “Don't we need a condom?” Satoru froze for a moment, realizing the important aspect he had unintentionally overlooked. He cursed himself inwardly for becoming so lost in the moment. He looked at you, his expression serious as he nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry, sweetcheeks. Sometimes I forget myself. I'll find one, just give me a moment."

When he made a move to stand up, intending to look around for a condom, you quickly grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait! I-I think it's alright. I mean if we don't use one... I-I want to feel you. Like, all of you but I wasn't sure. I just wanted to ask in case you-” You ramble on in embarrassment, not finishing your last sentence and letting out a frustrated huff of air at your own nervousness in the moment. Looking into his eyes, hoping that he will understand what you want to say and that you are okay with not using protection for tonight.

He listens to your rushed words, his expression softening at your shyness and nervousness. The fact that you wanted to feel him, all of him, without any barriers between you, set his heart racing and his desire for you only grew stronger. He cupped your face in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze filled with need but also tenderness. "Are you sure, sweetcheeks? You're not just saying that because you think that's what I want, right?”

“What? No! No, of course not. I'm actually on the pill so it's alright. I just wanted to make sure, because this is my first time and I don't know... I heard it can be… messy?” You were so embarrassed but couldn't stop yourself from rambling on further, probably making a real fool out of you. “But guys do like it raw, right? My friends say that guys prefer to do it without protection…?” You get more and more quiet at the end of your sentence, too embarrassed to actually speak such things out loud. “You would like it, right?”

He couldn't hold back a smirk at your rambling. You looked so cute when you were nervous and embarrassed, it only made him want to ruin you even more. He chuckled softly, gently stopping you from continuing with a soothing touch to your face. "Sweetcheeks, please breathe." He teased gently, but his eyes were filled with desire and love. "Yes, I do like it raw. I love the feeling of your body, of being as close to you as possible. And as for the mess, don't worry. I'll take care of it after.”

“Then, I don't want you to use it. Want to feel you raw.” Your eyes blink up at him, the desperate desire clearly evident. You were still seated in his lap, your hand finding purchase on his chest before sliding down to his abdomen, taking his length cautiously into your hand and pumping him slowly for a few times. “Can we continue please?”

He lets out a deep breath when you touch him, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation of your gentle hand wrapping around him. When you asked to continue, his eyes opened again, locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. He placed one hand on your hip, his grip firm and possessive. His other hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding your movements as you touched him. "Yes, we can continue. I'm all yours, sweetcheeks.”

Hearing the words falling from his lips, you take one last deep breath and decide to be brave. Taking the initiative, your lips find his own in a messy kiss. One of your hands still wrapped around him, the other coming to the back of his neck, softly grazing the strands of white hair.

You adjust your position on his lap, hovering above his length for a moment before slowly sinking down onto him. You break the kiss immediately when you feel him stretch past your tight entrance, your face scrunching up in pain and your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. The feeling was unfamiliar.

His eyes open as soon as you retreat from the intensity of the kiss, watching your face intently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hip as he feels your body stretch around him. He saw the pain etched onto your features, his expression softening with concern although he couldn't hide the pleasure he was feeling. "Shhh, relax, sweetcheeks. Take all the time you need. The pain will pass soon. Just breathe.”

“'s big Satoru~ Hurts…” You let out a whimper, your eyes brimming with tears when your body tried to accommodate him and to the new feeling. You really try to relax, breathe in and out, finding comfort in his touch. Still, you were barely halfway inside. All the while his concerned eyes watch your every move. He could feel the struggle you were going through, and he wanted to ease your pain in any way possible. His grip on your hip tightened slightly as he felt you clenching around him.

"I know, sweetcheeks. I know it hurts, but you're doing so well. Just focus on your breathing." He ran his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you as he felt your body resist his intrusion. "Try to relax for me, sweetcheeks. You're taking me so well.” His words encourage you immensely and you start to relax. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent and unintentionally clench around him.

When the pain lessens, you sink down all the way letting out a breath you didn't even knew you were holding and after a few more seconds your hips instinctively begin drawing light circles for friction, the pain now completely gone and replaced with the need for more.

He could feel your body adjusting to him, his breath hitching as he felt your walls spasm and clench around him. Your face buried in his neck sends shivers down his spine, and he could feel your breath on his skin. When you sink down fully, a low groan escapes him, his eyes closing at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. When you begin moving your hips in those small, teasing circles, his grip on your waist tightens reflexively. "God, sweetcheeks. You feel so good.”

You kiss alongside his jaw up to his lips. His groans are muffled as soon as your lips meet his in a deep, slow and passionate kiss. “Feels so good Satoru~.” The movement of your hips getting a little bolder. “Need you to take control. Don't know what to do next. Want you to make me feel good.” You mumble between kisses.

He savors the feeling of your body against his, your sweet scent filling his senses and driving him wild with desire. He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze dark and filled with lust. "Gladly, sweetcheeks. Lay back for me." He gently pushes you back onto the bed, following you down and settling himself between your legs.

When he's laying you down onto the bed and hovering above you, you can't help the look of admiration and love that fills your eyes, your hand instinctively reaching out to gently caress his face. You open your legs up wider to make it easier for him to move in between. You never knew you would ever think this way, seeing how annoying you usually thought Gojo Satoru was, but you trust him completely to take control and make you feel good.

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing at the feeling of your fingertips against his skin. When you open yourself up for him, his breath hitches and his eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of your skin and committing it to memory. "You're so beautiful, sweetcheeks." He whispers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hip. "I'm going to make you feel so good, I promise." And with that, he's filling you up again, the stretch eliciting a moan from your lips and begins to move, his hips slowly rocking against yours.

Your hands fly up to your mouth trying to cover up the sounds, not wanting to alert your brother. If Suguru found you, his sister and his best friend in this compromising position, you two would be in huge trouble. “Fuck…” You whisper out, back arching and eyes rolling into the back of your head because of the pleasure.

Satoru can't help but chuckle softly at your attempt to quiet yourself, your efforts to hide your moans only spur him on to make you louder, to make you forget about the world outside. He leans down, his body covering yours completely, pinning you to the bed as he continues to move inside of you. His lips find their way to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving behind a trail of love bites. "Don't hold back, sweetcheeks. Let me hear you moan for me.”

You want to glare at him for being so irresponsible, for not caring if your brother found out or not but with how good he was making you feel, it was basically impossible. The words are dying on your tongue when another moan leaves your mouth. Your body is clenching around him hard, as if to not let go of him.

He groans at the sensation, of your body clenching around him, the feeling so good it nearly makes him lose his grip on control, that was already wearing thin. He bites down on your neck, not hard enough to mark you, but hard enough to make you gasp loudly. "God, sweetcheeks, you gotta relax a bit. Otherwise I won't be able to hold back for long."

He lifts his head from your neck, his eyes studying your face. Your expression was a mix of pleasure and desperation, and damn if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. “'s so deep. Please don't stop.” You were letting out the most needy and desperate sounds. Spurring him on and making him pick up his pace, the movement becomes harder and more purposeful as the two of you lose yourself in the pleasure.

He listens to your pleas, his heart racing and his breath coming in ragged gasps at the sound of your voice. The way you're reacting to him, the way you're begging for more and more is driving him insane. "Such a needy little thing." He murmurs in your ear. "So desperate for me, aren't you sweetcheeks? Wanting me to keep going, make you feel good?”

He leans back onto his heels, lifting your hips up a bit to change the angle as his pace quickens, losing himself in the moment. You try to tell him how good he's making you feel but your brain feels mushy from the pleasure and all that's coming out of your mouth are incoherent sentences and moans of his name.

Your moans and the way you're whimpering his name is driving him wild. He can barely think straight, the only thing on his mind is bringing you as much pleasure as possible. He leans down, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his pants and grunts filling your ear. "You're taking me so well, sweetcheeks. So good for me." He whispers, his voice rough and strained.

"Can you do something for me, sweetcheeks?”

“Everything. 'd do anything for you.” The words tumble out of your mouth and your head shakes yes in a frantic measure, hands grasping desperately at the sheets above your head. In this state of mind you would have done everything for him, without question, as long as he continued to make you feel this way.

He feels a thrill go through him at the sight of you completely lost in pleasure and desire, your words making his heart swell with possessive pride. He slows down his movements, grinding into you slowly and purposefully. His lips find their way to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Reach down between us and touch yourself for me." He whispers, his voice raspy and demanding. He's leaning up again and lets his eyes rake over your body and admires every little detail about you. The way your chest moves with each thrust, the way your soft tummy shows just the slightest outline of his length moving inside of you and all the way down to where your puffy lips stretch so beautifully around him.

You travel one of your hands down his abdomen until it reaches the point where the two of you are connected. Your fingers rubbing slow circles on your sensitive clit, the pleasure increasing and you can feel yourself close to the edge.

All the while Satoru watches you intently as you move your hand down, his breath getting ragged as he feels you clenching around him as soon as you're touching yourself. Seeing you pleasure yourself like that pushes him closer to the edge, his self-control thinning. He lets out a low, guttural groan, his eyes dark and clouded with desire. "God, sweetcheeks. You look so beautiful like this.” His hips jerk forward involuntarily, causing him to accidentally hit that sensitive spot inside of you.

You let out a gasp when he hit that special spot inside, reaching your peak in overwhelming pleasure. Throwing your thighs instinctively around his hips, to pull him impossibly closer. Not wanting him to pull out for even a split second, desperately trying to hold onto the feeling of being completely and utterly full.

He groans loudly as your thighs clamp down around him, bringing his hips flush against yours as you shudder and spasm around him. He can barely hold himself together, the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly nearly overwhelming. He's pressing his forehead against yours, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fights against the need to come undone. "Sweetcheeks… Sweetcheeks, I need to pull out." He says between ragged breaths, his voice strained with the effort to hold himself back.

“Hmm~ no. Don't want you to. Inside, please. Need to feel you inside.” Your eyes are tearing up, both from the pleasure and the thought of his body leaving yours. Your lips are trembling and your voice breaks slightly when you whine out for him, hands clutching his shoulders tightly.

He swallows hard at the sound of your breathless plea, his body shaking with the need to give in to your request. The thought of pulling out, of denying you what you want, is almost physically painful. His whole body is strained and on the edge of snapping. "Sweetcheeks, I don't know if I can-" Cutting himself off as the words get stuck in his throat. He groans, his eyes closing as he struggles against the overwhelming desire to give in to your plea.

“Satoru~” You call out his name in a whisper, one of your hands finding his jaw, to make him look into your eyes. “I'm sure. Just let go for me, please.” If your mind wouldn't have been so clouded from pleasure, you would have been impressed with how steady your voice comes out. The emotions in your eyes give him the last reassurance that he needed. That you want him.

He looks into your eyes, and he sees everything he needs to see. The trust, the desire, the love that shines in your eyes is enough to break what little restraint he has left. He can no longer deny you, no longer deny himself the pleasure of being so intimately connected with you. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands grasping your hips tightly. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his voice rough as he whispers against your skin.

"God, I love you.”

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: After teasing and disobeying Bob, you get your well deserved punishment.

Warning: Choking (yes this is the bicep choking fic), dash of size kink, lots of sex, oral (both receiving), language, mean dom Bob bc I'm a whore

"Darlin'. Behave." His voice is low, gravely in your ear. His fingers gently squeeze the flesh on your hip. To others, it looks nothing out of the ordinary. Just Bob, whispering sweet nothings to his partner.

If only they knew.

You let out a confused hum, tilting your head up to face his. The smile on your face is innocent, unassuming. The same smile that Jake swears was the key to him figuring out that you were married to Bob, stating that y'all looked like 'you just stepped out of a movie musical from the fifties'.

You didn't wear long dresses and skirts because you felt a kinship to a particular decade.

Rather, the extra fabric made it easier to cover yourself while Bob fucked you in his truck. 

Which is exactly what you wanted to be doing right now instead of watching Jake and Bradley argue over a round of pool.

Usually wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your back into his chest did the trick. Apparently watching two grown men argue was too distracting.

So you began to move your hips, subtly grinding your ass against his crotch. Bob simply squeezed the flesh of your hips, sending a subtle reminder back.

That just wouldn't do.

God, you had been aching for him all day. And yes, it was a bit greedy to still want him after he gave up arriving on time tonight in order to eat you out. Truly, you had hoped the act would be enough until you two returned home. 

But he just looked so good in his white T Shirt. Bob was always handsome, but you loved it when he dressed casually. The soft fabric of his shirt hugged his muscles that he didn't show very often. It seemed that people often forget that Bob had to stay physically fit for his job, that he also had to do two hundred push ups.

You never forgot.

"Just a little bit longer, then we'll go home. Kay?" Bob whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You nodded your head, despite being unsatisfied with his response. Stilling your body, it appeared that you understood his request.

Bob slung an arm around your shoulder, his hand near your breasts, but just out of reach. Your thighs clenched at the sight of his fingers, thinking about how earlier he had used them to make you come so hard your legs shook.

So your hips began their ministrations again. To onlookers, it looked as though you were simply swaying to the music playing from the old jukebox.

Bob knew the truth.

The grip he had on your hip tightened, his lips trailing from your forehead to your ear, "What did I just say?"

"I like this song," you stated, shrugging your shoulders. It was fun, seeing how far you could push him. Bob was pretty good at keeping up the facade, as if his cock wasn't growing erect underneath his jeans.

If things were up to you, his cock would be growing inside you while your back was pressed into the mattress.

Instead, you were still at the Hard Deck, Bob seemingly determined not to break.

"Y'know I'm gonna fuck you when we get home, right?" He whispered, pulling you closer to him, hoping the promise would be enough to satiate you. 

"I know," you said with a sweet smile. No one thought anything odd of your exchange because it looked like a normal conversation you and Bob were having. 

If only they knew. 

Your hand trailed up from his thigh to the back of his neck. His hair was soft, curling thanks to the hat he had on. That old trucker hat that he always wore when he wasn't in uniform. 

Bob let out a strangled grunt upon feeling you tug his hair. The sensation only lasted for a few seconds, your hand moving quickly back to his thigh. 

He was stunned, or so he appeared. 

His arm swiftly moved up your chest. Your eyes bulged upon feeling his bicep against your neck, restricting your airway. 

The action was brief, his bicep gone before anyone could see anything. But the sensation, how easy it was for him to choke you, how he didn't have to move his arm that much because the muscle was so big, remained in your brain, replaying over and over again, your thighs clenching. 

"That made you wet, didn't it?' He asked, chuckling. As if he just witnessed something amusing, rather than choking you in public. 

"Why don't you go check?" 

His stare burned into the back of your head. You didn't need to look, you knew his icy blue eyes were narrower, his nostrils flaring as he thought about what you just implied. 

"You heard me," you whispered, words smug. 

Bob's hand moved quickly. It wasn't a hard slap, but it made your eyes widened. Within seconds after slapping your face, that same hand was now gripping your chin, tilting it upwards so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

No one noticed. 

He had been so fast, that it looked like he was simply cupping your chin to kiss you. 

How sweet. 

No one noticed how his hand was trailing up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, moving towards the space in between your thighs. 

No one noticed how his eyes widened when his hand felt your soaked folds rather than cotton. 

“This whole night?” Bob asked. 

"Wanted to be ready for ya," was the only explanation you gave him. 

It was all you needed. 

Bob didn't let you get that far into the house. As soon as you reached the living room, your knees were on the carpet. The soft material brushed against your face as your legs were pried apart. 

"Ya think you're so big for that fucking stunt, don't you?" His hands were rough, grabbing your hips, pushing them towards his. 

A desperate moan fell from your lips upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare ass. 

"Should have fucked you right then and there. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You couldn't help but let out a needy whine upon hearing the sound of him unzipping his jeans.

"But you'd like that too much, wouldn’t ya?" His voice was sinful, low and gruff as he repeated himself, indicating he wanted a response. 

It took some time for Bob to be this comfortable around you. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, and quite frankly, part of him was worried you wouldn't be into it. 

He was so wrong. 

For as much as you liked being in charge, there were times where you didn't want to make decisions, to think through every action. You wanted to be daring, to be reckless. 

Most of all, you wanted someone to reign you in, to call the shots. 

It worked out well, for Bob only had so much control in his daily life. He didn't call the shots, that was ultimately up to his pilot. He couldn't control what others did up in the air. 

But in this moment, he could control you. Could mold you to how he saw fit. He could make you cum over and over until your legs shook or edge you till tears ran down your face. 

He had options, choices. Something he reminded himself as he felt your bare cunt grinded itself against his denim covered crotch. 

His large hand found your ass, roughly grabbing your soft flesh, practically marveling at your curves. 

“Only want you Robby. Only you,” You pleaded, your voice music to Bob’s ears. 

“God, you’re so soft,” He murmured into your ear, his fingers finding their way to your soaked folds, “Want all of ya.”

You moaned as his fingers thrusted into you, finding that special spot with a precision and quickness that only Bob possessed. 

The sound of his name said in broken moans filled the air, mixing with the lewd sounds of your wetness as his fingers continued his ministrations, his thumb finding your clit. 

With anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how desperate and loud you were. But god, his fingers were so thick and made you feel so fucking good. Bob knew your body like the back of his hand, every curve, every spot that drove you closer to the edge. 

And you’re so close, you need just a few more thrusts, a few more rough circles drawn on your clit and you would be seeing stars when you closed your eyes. 

But you didn’t deserve that. Not after what you just pulled. 

Which is why Bob responds to your tears and pleads when he pulls out with a harsh slap against your cunt. Pleasure laced pain courses through your body, your own fingers gripping the rug for purchase. 

“Don’t you dare. Turn around and show me how bad you want to come and maybe then I’ll think about it,” Bob ordered. His words caused your walls to clench around nothing. 

You maneuvered your body so that you were now looking up at him. His erection was straining against his clothes, his cock impossible to ignore. 

Quickly, your fingers found the buttons of his jeans, undoing them enough so you could easily pull down both his pants and boxers to his knees. 

Your mouth all but salivated at the sight of his cock, now resting against his abdomen. 

Bob had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. It was perfect, not too thick, curved ever so slightly, which allowed him to hit that spot with every thrust. 

You moaned as your lips touched the plush tip, tongue lapping up the precum that had formed. The vibrations sent shivers down Bob's spine, a deep grunt falling from his lips, his hands gripping your shoulders. 

He used his hands to gently guide your mouth further down his cock. Your cheeks hollowed out, trying to take in as much of him as you could. 

"Just like that sweetheart, f-fuck." Bob could maintain his composure thousands of feet up in the air, but as soon as your pretty mouth was wrapped around his cock, all bets were off. Your mouth was heaven and he loved how eager you were to show him you were able to take so much of him now. 

Drool began seeping down your chin as your head bobbed up and down, taking in as much as you comfortably could. 

His call sign never stood for baby on board. 

"Ya want me to come in your mouth? Or that pretty little pussy of yours?" His words made you want to rub your thighs together, an urge you were desperately fighting, not wanting to risk any more punishments. 

You looked up at Bob and he wished he could take a picture. Wide eyes and your mouth wrapped around his cock. You were beautiful and all his.

And boy, did Bob Floyd fucking love it. 

His fingers gripped your chin, guiding your head away from his cock, "I asked you a question darlin. You gonna give me an answer or do I need to teach you some manners again?" 

"I want you to come in my pussy. Please." 

Bob chuckled, "So polite for a dirty little girl. Turn around." 

And that was your punishment. He'll fuck you, he'll let you come, but you couldn't see him unless he let you. You couldn't kiss Bob unless he wanted to. 

He entered you swiftly, eliciting a near scream from you. 

"Robby!" 

No one had ever made you feel so good, so full before. Bob wasted no time, knowing you were prepared thanks to this afternoon. 

"Fuck, taking my cock s-so good, angel," his voice was shaky, his breath hot on your ear. Even if you were in trouble, he couldn't help but praise you. 

You tilted your head up, hoping he would act on pure instincts and kiss you. 

His lips ghosted over your face, cerulean eyes nearly all but closed as he reveled in the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his cock. 

"S'big Robby, I-" 

"Shhh," he pressed his lips to your forehead, "You don't have to think. Just let me use that pretty little pussy of yours." 

He snaked an arm around your neck, tightening his grip so his bicep pressed against your throat. Now you had no choice but to look up at him. 

Broken, choked gasps filled your living room, swirling with the sounds of Bob's hips meeting yours. All you could do was take it, his cock repeatedly brushing against the spot that made your toes curl and your back arch in pleasure. 

Before you met Bob, you didn't think that spot even existed. 

"You gonna make a mess all over my cock? C'mon baby, you can do it," Bob flexed his bicep, further restricting your airflow. 

That one movement broke the dam. Your legs shook as white hot pleasure ran through your body. Bob, ever the doting husband, was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you up while your orgasm took over your body. 

"Please don't stop," you're begging and you don't care. Every thrust prolongs your pleasure. All you can focus on, all you care about is your husband and how his cock is sending you to a pleasurable bliss. 

"S'pretty, want another one," Bob's chest was pressed against your back, his hand snaking to just above where you two connected. 

His fingers, calloused from years of work, felt heavenly on your clit. 

The pleasure was now rolling through you in waves. Each thrust, each swipe of your clit sent you reeling. If it weren't for the arm Bob and around your neck and collarbone, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself up. 

"C'mon baby, so fucking pretty. Know you got another one in ya. Fuck, you feel so good. C-can't believe I get ya all to myself, love you s'much," his words were beginning to slur, as if he was drunk off of you. 

It was one of your favorite parts about having sex with Bob. When his words began to slur, when the only things he could intelligibly say were praises for you, the only thing he could focus on was you. 

Between Bob's praises and the circles his thumb was drawing on your clit, your eyes closed as pleasure took over your body again. You were screaming something, could feel your throat strain as you spoke. But what exactly it was, you couldn’t say. 

A large hand cradled the back of your head, the other maneuvering your legs so they were wrapped around a lithe waist.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on your bed, a pair of blue eyes staring back at you. 

"Hey darlin," Bob's voice was soft as his nose glided over your cheek, "Wanna keep going?" 

You weakly nodded, your hands reaching up to his hair. 

"Use your words darlin," Bob reminded, fucking his head down to press gentle kisses and nips across your neck. 

"Want," you whined, causing Bob to sink his teeth into your collarbone, "Want you to come inside me Robby! Please!" 

A low, guttural groan came from your husband, "Fuck, how did I get so lucky?" 

His mouth trailed down your body, leaving kisses all over. Your fingers flew to his shoulders when you felt his nose brush against your clit. 

"Robby, you said-" 

"I know," his breath was hot on your most intimate part, "But I just gotta taste ya first, okay?" 

Bob couldn't help it and you knew it too. Yes, he got to taste you earlier. He knew it was bad to be greedy, but your cunt was an exception. 

So he didn't feel bad when his tongue found your soaked folds, lapping up your arousal. It drove Bob wild, getting to taste you. He had to fight the urge to grind his hips against the comforter, wanting to come inside you. 

Your fingers were threading themselves in his sun kissed hair, needing something to hold onto as he groaned against your cunt. 

"S'good," Bob moaned, sending vibrations all along your body. Wanting to keep you ready for him, he thrusted a finger inside you. 

"Robby!" 

Bob simply smirked, knowing your walls could feel the cool, smooth metal of his wedding band. He continues making languid thrusts against that spongy spot, the one that he knows drives you wild, makes your legs shake. 

Besides, you were still being punished. You wanted to come so badly tonight, so Bob was going to make you come.

Over and over again. 

Your back arched as his tongue continued to lap at your clit, sensitivity surging through you. 

While your release came in a smaller wave this round, it was still intense. Your fingers gripped the soft strands of Bob's hair, hips jerking upwards in a shameless attempt to get more of Bob's mouth. 

"What's wrong? Thought ya wanted my cock darlin," Bob smirked when he pulled away. 

It was impressive how after five years he could still take you by surprise. You open your eyes, his words making you want to sit up. 

Instead, your husband's lips crashed onto yours, his large hands pushing you back down to the mattress. 

"Asked ya a question darlin. Gonna give me an answer?" 

Two could play the game. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, nails brushing against his scalp as you tugged on the locks, pulling his head back. 

"You gonna fuck me?" 

You could only place a few love bites on his neck before you were back on your knees, face against the pillow. 

"When did you get so bold?" The rural drawl laced his deep voice, his breath hot on your neck. 

"Since you stopped fucking me." That was the final straw. Bob quickly lined his cock to your entrance and thrusted in without a warning, sending you practically reeling. 

"Fuck Bob!" 

"That's what I'm trying t'do," he snarled, his hips quickly meeting yours. 

Any smartass comment died in your throat when Bob's bicep pressed against your neck. God, it was easy to forget how big and strong he was. He tried to hide it, tried to make himself small, make himself blend in by hunching over, by not taking up as much space. 

Which was why you loved it when he displayed his strength. He didn't have to flex much, if at all, to have the muscle against your throat, restricting your airway. 

"Can tell how much ya love that from the way you're clenching me so tight." 

You could only let out a strangled hum of agreement, too busy focused on how fucking full you felt every time he bottomed out. 

Bob knew you were getting close. He could tell by the way your breath quickened, your walls clenching around his cock, not wanting it to leave. 

Bob was also very close. Had been for quite a while. But he was raised to be a gentleman and you deserved to come several times before he did. 

His free hand trailed down to where you two connected. Just a little more attention to your clit and Bob would have you right where he desperately needed you. 

All you could do was take his cock, take in the scent of eucalyptus that surrounded him, mixed with the sweat that came from his hard work. 

"M'so close," you weakly groaned, fingers finding purchase in your comforter. 

"I know, just a little more. You can wait for me, I know ya can. Fuck I'm so lucky, married to ya. Ya gonna take it all too, aren't ya? Fuck, I love ya so fucking much." 

He released the grip he had on your throat, turning your head so he could capture your lips once more. 

That was what sent you reeling. That's what made you see galaxies when you closed your eyes. The only thing you could focus on was how good he felt, fucking you, coming inside of you, filling you up with everything he had. 

For what seemed like ages, you two were frozen in place, trying to catch your breath. 

"Darlin, I'm gonna pull out now, 'kay?" Bob finally said, gently pressing a handkerchief to where you two were connected. 

"Can we shower after this?" You mumbled. 

Bob pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "Course we can." 

"With the shower steamer?" 

Bob chuckled, "The rosemary one, right?" 

"Love ya Robby." 

"I love you too darlin'."

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

@lewmagoo @ohtobeleah @sometimesanalice @cumholland @chxosunbound @callsignspark @dissonannce @yanna-banana @lovinglyeternal @cherrycola27 @lostinthefandoms11 @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @mothdruid @delopsia

[sun-kissy]

flinch | s.b.

tw: angst, swearing

hurt to comfort, sirius black x reader

"Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you fucking flirt with her?"

"I wasn't flirting with her, goddamn it! I was being nice!"

"Yeah, being nice meant giving her a kiss goodbye, didn't it?"

"I didn't kiss her! Oh my god, I- I could hit you right now!" Sirius yelled, the last drops of his anger ringing in the silence as you flinch, reflexively bringing your hands up to cover your face. His eyes widen in shock, then understanding. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before slowly stepping towards you.

"You're trembling. Oh my god, you're trembling. I'm so sorry," he murmurs, reaching one hand out towards you, as though you were some rabid animal. You instinctively move away from his touch. "No, I- I'm fine," you choke out, lowering your trembling hands. "I'm okay, sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry."

He coos in pity, stepping towards you again, but stopping short when he sees the way you wince. He sighs and drops his hands to his sides. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I... I took it too far. I'm so sorry, dove." he murmurs, looking at you with concern. Given both yours and his past, living in abusive households had pushed the both of you to make a promise never to yell at each other.

Sirius broke that promise. He broke your trust. The thought of that caused you to let out a sob, and you squish your hand to your mouth to muffle it. Sirius makes a strangled sort of noise in his throat as he reaches out towards you again. "Baby," he breathes out, voice laced with hurt. "Can I hug you?" You hesitate for a moment. Then you nod, and he closes the distance between you.

Sirius gently wraps his arms around you, unsure just how much you want. But when you bury your head in his chest and tighten your hold around him, he squeezes you in a strangling hug. You lean into the embrace gratefully. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to do this,” you sniffle into his chest, your tears wetting his shirt. "Do what, love?" he asks quietly, stroking your hair.

“I feel like I'm guilt-tripping you. I'm sorry. I don't wanna be the girl that flinches." He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head and buries his face in your hair. "I know you don't, baby. Heck, we both don't wanna be that person. But you're not guilt-tripping me. I get it, and I shouldn't have broken our promise. I'm sorry. It happened just this once, never again."

You hum in response, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks as you stay in the tight embrace. "Were you cheating, though?" you mumble, your voice starting to shake with anxiety.

"No," he responds immediately, no hesitation in his words. Sirius clutches you tighter. "I wasn't, and I'm sorry if I made it seem that way. Lily's always been a pal, and that's all she'll ever be. I shouldn't have hugged her like that if it made you uncomfortable."

You feel relief blooming in your chest at his words, and you nod silently, finally pulling away slightly to look at him. You raise your head to meet his eyes, and he smiles softly at you, his eyes full of guilt and love as he presses a kiss between your eyebrows. "There's my beautiful girl," he murmurs, grinning as he rubs his thumbs over your cheeks, his forehead resting on yours. "Now, how about we go get some ice cream? You could have two scoops, on me."

You smile back, and Sirius' eyes light up as though you've personally strung up all the stars in the sky. "Three scoops?" you ask, widening your eyes and pouting in an attempt at a puppy face. He looks you up and down, rolls his eyes and sighs, the hint of a smile on his lips. "Just this once, sweetheart. But you gotta share."

You shake your head and groan in mock defeat, earning a chuckle from him as he helps you put on your sweater and presses a loving kiss to your lips.

[leiawritesstories]

Mom, Please!

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompts "Lake" & "Splash"

Word count: ~1k if you squint 😂

Warnings: swearing, teenage antics, Rowan getting grey hairs from stress

Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I hear footsteps," Aelin mumbled, half-drowsy.

"Go back to sleep, Fireheart," Rowan mumbled back, burying his face in her hair. "It's probably just a rabbit or something."

"At---" She cracked her eyes open and stared at the fuzzy numbers on the clock across the bedroom. "One in the morning?"

"Mmmh, fine." Her husband attempted to push himself upright and flopped back into bed with a groan. "Dammit!"

She kissed his shoulder. "Don't throw your back out, old man. I'll go check on things." Aelin pushed herself out of bed and tucked the covers up over her sleepy, grumpy husband, who grumbled something about I'll show you a thrown-out back as she stepped into her slippers and crept out of their bedroom.

The hallway of the lakeside cabin was dark and silent, broken by strips of silvery moonlight filtering in through the skylights. Aelin came into the living room and paused, wondering why the hell the sliding door that led to the patio was cracked open. Had one of the kids forgotten to close it?

And there were those damn footsteps again.

Slowly, she crept up to the windows and nudged the curtain aside just enough to peer out and find---"Gods above, Mom!"

"Holy shit, Lana!" Aelin and her oldest daughter screeched at each other at the same time, and Aelin leapt back from the window as if it had slapped her, wishing she could scrub the sight of Lana and her boyfriend playing tonsil hockey out of her eyes. "Fucking hell," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. "It's too damn late for this."

There was a rustling outside the house, and a very sheepish Lana snuck back inside through the patio door to find her mother sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. "Mom?" she ventured. "Are you...okay?"

Aelin grumbled something incoherent in reply.

Lana discreetly tugged her sweatshirt's hood up, relying on the shadows it cast over her neck. "Um, Mom?"

"I'm fine," Aelin mumbled. "Just gonna have to tell Yrene about this. You could've at least mentioned that Cal's family was here too."

"I didn't know he'd be here," Lana whispered, blushing an adorably bright pink. "He surprised me."

"Pebbles on your window and all that romantic shit?" Aelin teased.

Lana grinned, her smile a mirror of her mom's. "Yeah."

"Can't hardly blame you, then." Aelin stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed before your overbearing father decides I've been gone for too long and hurts himself trying to find his way down the hall in the dark. G'night, sweetheart."

Rowan, of course, was awake when she came back into the bedroom, fumbling for his glasses. "Stop that, buzzard."

He sighed and flopped back into bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just Lana and Cal tangling tongues out behind the patio." She turned onto her side and fluffed up her pillows.

Strangled wheezing erupted from Rowan, and Aelin flipped back over to rub her husband's back until his shock dissipated. "The fuck?" he croaked.

She chuckled and handed him his water. "You know, Lana's boyfriend?"

"I know who," Rowan grumbled. "When? How? Why?"

"Ro, honey, you really don't want me to answer any of that." She kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."

~

The summer sun shone brightly over the lake, and Aelin lounged comfortably in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the laughter surrounding her family.

"Owww! Get away from me!" The shrill shriek was accompanied by a pair of feet sprinting towards Aelin and a smaller body taking refuge behind her chair. "Mom, Bran keeps shooting his stupid water gun at my face!" It was Charlotte, their third child.

"It's not my fault you're afraid of your stupid lashes falling off!" Bran, who was nearly sixteen, yelled back at his younger sister.

Indignant, Charlotte gasped and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. At fourteen and a half, she was the most strongly opinionated of the Whitethorn kids, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "You take that back!" she demanded, and when Bran told her to make him, she picked up a nearby bucket and headed for him.

Aelin opened her eyes and watched her wildfire daughter dump a whole bucket of lake water over her oldest son's head, which resulted in him screaming like a little girl because a frog had happened to be in the bucket and had now found a new home in the back of Bran's swim trunks. She chuckled to herself.

"Kids these days," Lana fake-sighed as she walked past, three more baby frogs cradled carefully in her hands.

"Says the kid who snuck her boyfriend over in the middle of the night," Aelin deadpanned.

Lana's face went scarlet. "Mom, please! Everyone can hear!"

"Just like last night," Aelin added. She winked. "Uncle Fen would be so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Oh my gods," Lana groaned. "You're the---"

"Are those frogs?" A younger voice broke into the conversation, eager eyes peering at Lana's hands. Rielle Whitethorn, the older of the twins by three and a half minutes, jumped up, trying to see the little frogs as Lana put her hands up higher. "I wanna see the frogs, Lana!"

"Shhh!" Lana shot a look over towards where Bran and Charlotte had moved their water gun fight into the lake, joined by Cal and two of his brothers. "I'm gonna dump them on Bran's head." She winked at her little sister. "Wanna join?"

"Hell yeah!"

Aelin lowered her sunglasses. "Rielle Enna Whitethorn!"

"Sorry, Mom." Rielle was ten, and she and her twin brother Declan were like sponges around the older siblings that they idolized. She ran off, following Lana down to the lake, and Aelin watched with her smile hidden behind her book as the two of them crept up behind Bran and successfully released the frogs onto his head.

He howled and scrambled frantically, arms flailing, until he finally gave up and ducked beneath the water to get the frogs off of his head. Aelin snickered, beyond pleased that her children had inherited her fondness for fun little pranks.

Down in the lake, Cal slung his arm around Lana, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear that made her shake with laughter, and pressed his---

"Gods above," Aelin groaned, shoving her face into her book.

Not again.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[orcasoul]

I'll Come Back For You

Summery: Letting go is hard to do for both of you. But as they say, if you love someone, you have to let them go.

Warnings: Death, Grieving, Mention of Injury, Swearing, No Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Joel sat on the porch swing, staring lovingly at how the late evening rays illuminated the varying deep shades of your hair, how it flowed down past your shoulders and blew gently in the summer breeze. God you're a work of art. He'd taken so much for granted before, but now, every time he casts his gaze upon you he savours each and every second.

The slope of your nose, the faint lines at the corners of your eyes, the few strands that have began to turn grey, even the way you hold yourself. If Joel had his way, these moments would never end. These are the moments when his life makes sense. Where he can breathe and just.... be. Where the gnarled roots of wretched sorrow and anger briefly release their strangling grip on his tormented soul.

In these precious moments, in your presence he can once again feel a spark of life ignite inside him, can almost feel the broken shards of his heart piecing themselves back together. He doesn't care how many times Tommy and Ellie have expressed their concern for his mental well being, or how they've begged him to open up to them and not shut them out. He doesn't need their pity or 'support'. You're all he needs.

"You're staring again," you chuckle, while turning to stare at Joel's warm eyes. A fond smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I guess I am," he replies softly, but his tone is anything but apologetic. "I just can't help it. You're so beautiful." You smile sadly, looking down at Joel's hand. You reach over, instinct and love propelling you to take hold and lace your fingers with his.

But at the last moment, you stop and drop your hand to your lap. There was no need to look at Joel to know the anguish and longing written all over his face. Hell, you feel it too. The deep rooted need to feel each other's skin and warmth is overwhelming for you both. But it's no use. It can't happen now.

"So are you," you whisper affectionately. Your smile fades and Joel furrows his brow in confusion. "You've been awful quiet this evening, sweetheart. Something on your mind?" Joel asks, his voice laced with concern. You close your eyes and sigh. You don't want to answer. You don't want to have to do this, but it's for the best.

This cannot be ignored anymore. You refuse to sit by and watch the man you love retreat further and further into himself, downing in a sea of sorrow. As long as you are here, you are a painful reminder. You had hoped your presence would have helped Joel to come to terms with what happened, reassuring him that it was beyond his control.

There was nothing anyone could have done. But for all your efforts, you can see now that your being here means Joel is stuck in limbo. He needs to find a way forward, to find something to keep fighting for, and you fear that can't happen unless you give him the space grieve and heal.

"Joel...," your voice wobbles as you struggle against the lump in your throat. "It's time. You need to let me go. You have to allow yourself to move on." Joel's soulful brown eyes meet yours, glistening with unshed tears and you feel your heart breaking for him. 'I... I can't," his voice almost sounds pleading, "I can't do this without you."

He desperately wants to hold you, to keep you in his arms forever. He's never loved any woman the way he loves you. Love isn't a strong enough word to describe the depth of his devotion and affection for you. You are (were) his life, his joy, the very beat of his heart, a missing piece of his soul.

He can't do this, not again. How can he even put one foot in front of the other if you are not in step with him? Without you he will remain hollow, aimless, just a simple lifeform existing from one day to the next. You take a shuddering breath, hoping your next words can convince him.

"Yes, you can, baby. You're the strongest person I know. I know it will be hard and I'm sorry... "I"m so sorry it has to be like this-," "Don't," Joel cut you off gently, shaking his head, "You have nothing to apologise for," "Neither do you," you reply, matter of factly. Joel looked straight ahead, his jaw ticking as he tries to tamp down the anger festering away inside of him.

The self loathing he deserves for failing another person he loves. "I should have been there to protect you." "Oh Joel," you sigh, sadly, "How many times do I have to say it? We cannot control everything around us. You need to accept that life has it's own plan and what will happen, will happen. It's. Not. Your. Fault." You enunciate the last sentence with conviction, tears threatening to chock you at the obvious ruination haunting Joel's visage.

Even from his side profile the pain is clearly evident. A moment of silence follows, after which, Joel turns to face you, eyes redened, tears now trailing the curve of his cheeks. "I love you so much," his pained words are barely above a whisper, as if his grief is physically crushing his windpipe. "And I love you. I always have," you reply softly as your own tears begin to fall.

You want nothing more than to comfort him, to take him in your arms and shield him from his suffering, to wipe his tears away and kiss his soft salt and pepper curls. But it's impossible and you feel so helpless, so useless.... and you hate that. How cruel its, to be so close and yet, so far away.

"And that's why...," you take a deep breath, your own sorrow weighing heavily on you with what you now have to do. "I have to go." Joel's eyes widen but before he can protest, you continue, "I'm sorry," the regret choking you is stifling, "I wanted to help you find a way through this, but I can see now that I'm doing more harm than good. You need to be able to mourn, Joel. And you need to accept the love and support of those around you. You still have family here and they want so desperately to help you, but you've pushed them away. I can't bare to see you wasting away like this."

Somewhere, deep down Joel knew that this time would come, he knew you couldn't stay here forever, but how the hell can he let you go? It would be like expecting him to live without breath in his lungs. "Please, y... you can't go..." Joel's voice wavered as he continued., "I... I can't lose you again, sweetheart." You try to reassure him with a gentle smile, "You'll never never truly lose me, darling."

A sad sigh escapes you, "But you will lose yourself if you continue down this path, and I won't let that happen. Ellie and Tommy are so worried about you. You need them, even if you don' realise it." "How am I supposed to live every day without you? I just...," Joel lets out a shaky breath, rubbing his hand over his face, "I Cant. I've lost too much. I can't do it again."

The defeat in Joel's voice, his eyes, his posture causes your gut to twist up. You want to stay, it's tearing you apart inside, feeling as though you're abandoning him in his hour of need. But staying would only make things worse in the long run. Sometimes you have to make difficult decisions for the greater good. It will be hard for him, but he still has so much to live for, so much love to give, even if he's blind to it right now.

"Joel," you began, voice gentle but firm, "You can. The Joel Miller I know can do anything he puts his mind too." A barely visible smile appears at one corner of Joel's mouth, but as soon as it appears, it's gone. "I want you to do something for me, darling," " anything!" Joel replies in earnest. If you could physically caress his cheek right now, you would. It feels so wrong to not be able to touch him. All you can do is shuffle closer and lean into his tired face.

"I want you to promise me that you'll keep going, that you'll allow yourself to feel everything you need to, and that you'll lean on your family. Promise me that you'll live the best life that you can for yourself, for them... and for me, please." Joel is lost for words. He's done a lot of bad things in his life, but he must have done something good at some point for the universe to bring you to him. He doesn't deserve the endless love and concern you continue to bestow upon him, even in death.

Your bright and hopeful eyes bring Joel a sense of clarity. This is the last thing he can do for you, the last thing you'll ever ask of him, and he will do it, for you. No matter how difficult it will be. He suddenly doesn't feel so lost and adrift anymore. You have given him a new purpose. He will honour your last request until his dying breath. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, Joel whispers, "I promise."

You release a sigh of relief, a heavy weight lifted from your shoulders at Joel's reassurance. He'll be alright. "And I promise you, when the time comes, I'll come back for you. One day, we'll be together again. But I have to go now," you pause, trying to fight the tears that threaten to fall again, "I won't say goodbye, cause this isn't goodbye. It's see you later."

Joel swallows the sob trying to climb up his throat. His heart is screaming at him to beg you to stay, but he knows when your mind is made up, it's made up. And you've decided he needs this. As much as he can't fathom not seeing you again for god knows how long, he takes comfort in knowing this separation is temporary. He will hold you again, laugh with you again and spend eternity by your side.

"I love you," Joel sniffled, knowing this is it, woe burying itself deeper into his soul. "I love you too," you declare, devotedly. "see ya later?" The words leave Joel's lips as a hopeful question. "See ya later," you confirm lovingly, and with that you fade into the soft golden twilight.

6 Years Later...

Joel couldn't focus, his eyelids like lead and his body trembling. The voices around him seemed distant and muffled one second, then loud and sharp the next. Throbbing pain bloomed through his torso, exacerbated by each breath he took. "What do you mean there's nothing more you can do?" Was that Tommy? "You can't just give up on him!" Tommy shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and fear.

"I'm so sorry, but all we can do now is try to make him as comfortable as we can." Darkness encompassed Joel as the voices began to fade once more. When his eyes opened again, he's met with the grave faces of Ellie and Tommy. He tries to sit up but his limbs feel too heavy, even turning his head is a challenge, and the oppressive atmosphere shrouding the room tells Joel the situation is... bad.

"What-" "Shhh...," soothed Ellie with tears in her eyes. "You're in the hospital." Joel swallowed thickly, wincing as his body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He slowly turned his head to see Tommy standing at the other side of his bed. His blotchy, tear streaked face caused Joel's stomach to twist up in knots. At that moment, it all came rushing back to him.

The ambush while on patrol with Tommy, the broken baseball bat protruding from him (again), Tommy heaving his battered body onto his own horse so he could keep him upright on the journey back. He's been in dire situations more times than he'd like to remember but this time it's... different, both Tommy and Ellie's sombre mien thickening the atmosphere as every second passes.

And that's when it dawned on Joel; This isn't just bad, this is something he won't come back from. "Tell me...," Joel mumbled, weakly. Tommy cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even, "The uh... the doctor..," Tommy lowered his head, shaking it as if in disbelief. Normally, Joel would snap at Tommy to 'spit it out' whenever he fumbled his words, but not this time. Not when his baby brother is clearly struggling to keep it together.

Tommy sighed, lifting his gaze to meet Joel's. "The doctor said you have internal bleeding and uh... there's nothing more they can do." Nothing more they can do. The words echo loudly in Joel's ears. He's had many close calls over the years. He'd used up his nine lives a long time ago and now his number was up. Our luck had to run out sooner or later. Tess' last words return as a grim reminder of the fragility of life in this world.

A part of Joel always knew he'd meet his end sooner rather than later, but being faced with that reality now.... well, nothing could have ever truly prepared him for this moment, the finality of his tumultuous life. Joel remained still, staring up at the ceiling while it sank in, a barrage of emotions crashing over him, simultaneously; Fear of the unknown, worry for the family he'll leave behind, regret for so many past mistakes, but also... acceptance. After everything he feels unexpectedly ready.

He'd kept his promise to you everyday for the past six years. He'd rebuilt his fragile relationship with Ellie. It took many deep and uncomfortable conversations and he always gave her space when she needed it, but slowly the cracks disappeared and the two became closer than ever, he even became a doting grandpa to JJ and a devoted uncle to Dylan.

The past mistakes with Tommy could never truly be erased, but he and Tommy both came to realise that they couldn't and more importantly, didn't want to dwell on it anymore, even Maria had come to accept Joel and gave him a second chance to start over with no animosity between them. He'd done that for you, just as you'd asked of him. Everyday Joel had kept your memory alive as he'd lived the best life he could, and now he's reached the end.

"Joel...," Ellie's quivering voice broke through Joel's hazy mind. The woefulness behind her tears caused Joel's heart to clench. "Come here, kiddo," comforted Joel as he slowly lifted an arm to embrace his adopted daughter. Her warm tears fell onto his neck as he gently rubbed the back of her head. "It's...okay. It'll be okay," he gulped while trying to be strong for her. "How can it be okay? How will any of us be okay without you?" Ellie wept, voice shaking with each breath.

"You're strong and you h... have people who care about you. Don't make the sa... same mistake I did," Joel told her as he thought about how he spent so long pushing people away. "I love you," she breathed out quietly into his ear, and Joel closed his eyes, sighing in contentment. "I love you too, baby girl. You take good... care of JJ,... you hear me?" "I will," Ellie promised. Joel then looked to Tommy, who's head hung low in shame and remorse. "This is my fault," his jaw clenched in anger, the same way Joel's always does, "I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been quicker, should have killed that bastard sooner!"

"Hey...," Joel gently interrupted, "It's not your... fault. We were outnumbered." Tommy shook his head, seemingly unable to accept his failure. "Tommy," Joel began, in a no nonsense tone, causing his brothers' eyes to meet his own, "You got us out... of there and got us home. That's what... matters! So don't you dare b... blame yourself for th... this.

Tommy was speechless for a moment. He grabbed Joel's hand and asksed, "Who's gonna keep my ass in check around here now?" "I'm s...sure Maria has that covered...," it was becoming more difficult for Joel to talk, "and if not this one will do the job," he quipped, pointing to Ellie with a small chuckle but he immediately winced as shooting pains radiated around his lower abdomen. "Easy...," Tommy rested a comforting hand on Joel's shoulder.

As the hours wore on, Joel became weaker, his breathing more laboured. Medication helped to ease the worst of the pain, even though, at first he refused it, insisting that it was pointless to waste it on him. It was only after Ellie had begged him to take it, that he finally relented. Maria and Dina came to say a teary farewell but left the children with a babysitter, as Joel didn't want their last memories of him to be a bruised and bloodied man on his deathbed.

Day bled into night. Ellie and Tommy kept vigil at Joel's bedside while he slipped in and out of consciousness. Joel became even more breathless, his golden hue became pale and clammy. It wouldn't be long now. A sombre silence filled the air, holding more weight than any words could. But even if Joel wanted to speak, he found he suddenly lacked the strength to even open his mouth. An exhaustion he'd never experienced before swept over him like a warm blanket, along with a bone deep, desperate need to sleep. Just for a bit. I'll sleep just for a bit.

*****

"Joel?..." a warm hand on his cheek and a soft voice he'd know anywhere, resounded in his ears like a sweet melody. His eyes shot open and he gasped in shock as he took in the image of you standing beside him and... touching him! Maybe he's dreaming? "Hi, baby," you smiled down at him with tears in your eyes, stroking his patchy jaw, tenderly. "You're here," he sputtered in disbelief.

"I promise I'd come back for you," you replied soothingly. And that's when Joel knew without a doubt he's not dreaming. As if on instinct Joel reached for your hand, clasping it in his own, bringing it to his mouth and pressed his lips to your soft palm. "I missed you," he cried, unable to believe that the moment he's waited years for is finally upon him. How he missed your delicate touch.

He'd dreamed of your embrace every night for the past six years, and now at long last, it's real. Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling himself up, the absence of pain and the rejuvenation of his 'body', another confirmation of his new reality. Joel wastes no time pulling you into his broad chest and you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You breathe in his woodsy and coffee scent, while at the same time Joel's nose buries itself in your hair, slowly inhaling your scent, one hand splayed across your back and the other cupping the back of your head. Tears stream down both of your faces as years of longing and loneliness come to an end. Now only forever awaits. "I missed you too," you wept, "So much." "I did it, darling. I did it all for you, every day," Joel whispered into your ear. You pull back, enough to look into his eyes, eyes filled with relief and love.

Gently holding his cheek, you reply, "I know. And I'm so proud of you. Now you can rest, my love." As the tears begin to dry and emotions calm somewhat, Joel realises you two weren't the only one's crying. Turning around his heart sinks and chest tightens as he has to witness Tommy holding a sobbing Ellie, while his own tears silently fall. On the bed, Joel's body lies motionless, drained of colour but with a serene peace adorning his relaxed features.

He remains frozen to the spot, wide eyed until you slip your hand into his, giving him a supportive 'I'm here' squeeze. "They'll be okay." You smooth your other hand up and down his arm. "They have each other and their families. They'll take care of them. And when the time comes, we'll all be together again." Joel answers with a silent nod, squeezing your hand in return. You know Joel through and through, and you know that he's always taken it upon himself to care for and protect those he loves.

But now that responsibility is his his no more. It'll be hard for Joel to relinquish said responsibility, which has been the staple in his life, but he has faith in Tommy, knowing he'll look after Ellie. They're family, blood or not. He can rest in that knowledge. "Joel...," he brings his attention back to you, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the smile plastered across your face. "I brought someone with me. Someone who has been waiting a long time to see you again."

Realisation of whom you are referring to flashes across Joel's face, but before the name can pass his lips, he hears the sweetest, most perfect voice say the word he hasn't been called in over twenty years. "Dad...," With bated breath, Joel slowly turned around, his mind struggling to function properly. There she is! His baby girl, standing in front of him, just as beautiful as he'd remembered her.

"Sarah...," Joel whispered in awe, frozen to the spot where he stood. 'Hi, old man," she smiled as she closed the gap between them. Her close proximity snapped Joel out of his statue like stance, quickly pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly to his chest. "I missed you," she cried into his chest, while wrapping her arms around his waist. "I missed you too," Joel choked out, "It's okay baby girl, I'm here, I'm here," he comforted her as his own tears joined hers.

He tenderly drew her head back, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes absorbing every beautiful inch of her features; Her expressive eyes that has passed onto her, that killer smile he'd always thought of so fondly, the blush of pink that always tinted her cheeks. God how he'd missed her. "You're grey," Sarah teased through her tears, running her fingers through his soft curls.

Joel chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth and admiration. "Your beautiful." He pulls her in for another hug and turns his head to you. You are crying silent, happy tears for them both. Joel reaches out, silently beckoning you over. With his daughter under one arm and the woman he loves under the other, he now feels complete.

His post cordyceps life has led to this very moment, to be with the people he loves the most. Of course his heart aches at the thought of leaving Tommy and Ellie behind, but it won't be forever. You're right. It's his time to rest. Sarah takes his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing over the scars on his knuckles. "Let's go home," she said, softly, "We have much to talk about."

With one last glance over his shoulder and a nod of confirmation, Joel is ready. A bright mist hovers where a wall should be, a calm and quiet ambience emanating from within. Together, with linked hands the three of you slowly disappear as you walk through the veil into forever.

[sinning-23]

Supa Freak (NSFW Headcannons)

Seggcy headcanons plus bonuses opla headcanons

Warnings!: i mean ... it says nsfw in the title bro...favorite position, volume, size, stuff like that, things they say during the act-

Anyway! Enjoy

Warnings: THESE ARE 18+ HEADCANNONS! Let’s be fr.

Zoro

-Okay so…..I’m not saying it’s always the quiet ones but-

-I feel like he’s not particularly picky when I comes to being intimate with you. If he can see your face or be able to had a handful of your ass in his hands he’s happy. (doggy w/ the mirror in front of you. best of both worlds)

-He’s not much of a submissive lover either, I think the closest you’ll ever get to that is riding him and even then he’s got control most the time.

-I like to think he prefers back shots because he likes the sound of your skin slapping because he’s fuckinf you that hard and fast. He also like then you can’t seem to form a sentence cause he’s reaching even the deepest parts of you.

-He’s not very loud btw. Like slight groans here and there. I think he’d be a pinch more talkative tho.

-“That’s it, take it.” Or “Justttt like that.” Or “You like the way I fuck you? Don’t you?”

-7”, shower, cut

Luffy

-Let him eat. And he won’t stop until he’s satisfied.

-That’s his go to honestly, if he’s not going to do anything else, he’s going to eat you out. It’s his favourite, you just taste too damn good. I feel like he’s the type to lock your thighs in place and hold your hips down so you can squirm away from in in an attempt to save yourself from overstimulation.

-Puts his hat over your face and has you lean alllll the way back. Loves seeing you like that.

-He’s a pretty good volume, and he’s never had a problem taking with his mouth full so jsut know you’ll get to hear everything he as to say about you and how good you are to him/for him.

-“Soooo good” Or “Fuck I could eat you all day.” Or “Stop trying to run from me, I’m not finished.”

-Had made you squirt on multiple occasions from his tongue alone. Call to a ‘special skill’.

-6.5, grower(ironic), uncut

Usopp

-He can laugh you out your panties we all know it too, don’t act surprised.

-I feel like he’s one to like good old cowgirl. You mean to tell him he can see your face AND feel/fill you up? Oh say less.

-I think his favorite part is watching you sink down on it, that little nervous look you get wondering if it’ll fit despite you having done this countless times before.

-Knows your thighs get cramped up so he will take it upon himself to lift you up and thrust upwards so you can have a break. But god is it hard to hold back when you’re so warm, and wet, and squeezing him so well. He wants to last but you’re making it hard to.

-Not much of a talker but will definitely moan and whimper. He’s too busy trying not to cum to talk. He’s got to fuckin focus-

-Oh the chance that he does talk it’s really to warn you or swear at how good you feel

-“F-Fuck.” Or “Wait I can't-I’m gonna-”

-6.5, uncut, shower

Sanji

-Against the wall (bitch I know yall saw him shirtless I'm sure that he's got enough body strength for the both of you.)

-Something about you being trapped gets him going. He makes sure you're secure against the wall too, his hands secure at your thighs and ass, holding you up, watching the way your body kinda recoils with each thrust.

-Just know he's marking you up, I mean all the way up. You're gonna look like someone strangled you by the end of it and, yes you did because he's got a thing for choking (giving or receiving) but also he can't seem to keep those pearly whites off the skin of your neck. Claims you're "too delicious not to taste."

-let him lick caramel off your titties.

-Isn't really loud, but isn't exactly quiet either. He's definitely more of a talker if we're comparing him to Zoro, but he also moans more.

-"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, give it to me mamas." or "Can you feel me right here chérie?"

-7.5, grower, cut

Nami

-On a countertop. Somewhere she can have you sit pretty and let her do absolutely filthy things to you.

-That rose toy is NOT letting up by any means and you can bet she's already got 3 fingers stretching you out.

-She's the type to not only talk you through it but also praise you for lasting this long. Makes it a note to give you sweet, soft kisses because her fingers are about to bully another orgasm out of you.

-I think she's a fan of countertops because every time you get off there's a niceee shine over it and most likely a sizable puddle dripping off the side.

-"That's my girl, my pretty girl." or "I know, I know, let me make you feel good."

-5, has a vibrate setting(4 speeds), baby blue

Buggy

-Standing up, you bent over, him pulling your arms back, in front of a mirror, watching how your tits move when he thrusts into you.

-This man is fucking filthy, he will fold you like a goddamn lawn chair one second and eat you out the next.

-There is no true favorite honestly, as long as he gets to feel you squeeze around him and hear you tell him how good his cock feels deep inside you.

-You quickly learned why he's so cocky, its not without reason that's for damn sure

-He can be whiny and a mess when he's particularly desperate and in need of you to take control. Sometimes he's quiet and calculated, either in the mood to punish you for being a total brat, or he's frustrated/pent up. Total wild card. You just gotta be able to gauge which side of Buggy you'll have the pleasure of seeing tonight

-"Take this dick baby, fuckin take it." or "This pussy is mine, understand me?" or "Keep doing that honey, I'll even beg for it if I have to."

-8, grower, cut (ironic lol)

Shanks

-This man is a very tentative and intimate lover. I mean he really really makes you feel and fucking savor EVERYTHING he has to give you. He knows he has to leave again sooner rather than later so at least one of the nights if not all that he gets to stay with you are so dams passionate.

-He's a very heavy breather and groans a lotttt. Hell, he swears a lot too. He just can't believe how wet you are for him, how easily he can slide into you and feel you squeeze down on him.

-His favorite position I feel like has to be you sitting on his lap. It's easy to just slide in and have your back pressed to his chest. he can touch any part of you he wants, kiss your neck and shoulders, hold your hips, and run his hands up the plush of your stomach and chest. He can caress your thighs if they get sore, and he can spread them wider too if he wants.

-"That's my girl. Doing so good for me aren't you?" or "Ohhh god." or "Let me love you, need to show you how much I adore you."

7.8, shower, uncut

[mattmurdocksscars]

Aaaah I’ve been on a flight but I just got off and is 11:51 which means I have 9 minutes left! Can I please request #109 from the prompt list w/ none other than our darling Matty, because it just seems so him: “Why are you naked?”

Also mega congratulations on 2k!!!

Here you go, love. You can interpret this as Reader either not knowing or knowing about Matt's senses. I kind of leaned towards not knowing, personally. Hope you enjoy!

Taking care of a drunk Matt Murdock was a serious feat. He didn't drink to inebriation very often but when he did? He was a force to be reckoned with.

Oh, but he's blind, how much trouble could he really get into? No. That's the devil talking and not the one who runs around in red spandex. Foggy was usually the one to take care of Matt when he got like this but seeing as they were both drunk, it fell on you and Karen.

Karen took Foggy and you assured her that you could handle Matt.

Oh, if only that were the case.

"Murdock, if you don't get in this apartment right now, I swear to God-"

"Blasphemy! You shouldn't- shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain." He yelled at you from his spot down the hall. You winced, silently apologizing to his neighbors, before walking back down the hall to grab Matt by his arm and drag him inside.

"Hey, whoa- Where are we going? Ooo everything is spinning."

You sighed and closed the door behind you.

"We're in your apartment, Matt. Can you take your shoes off or do you need help?" Matt made a face and began trying to get his shoes off on his own. An adorable attempt, but he kept missing the strings and then almost fell over when he got them.

"Alright, how about you lean against the wall and I'll take your shoes off. Okay?" With a murmured okay, he did as you asked and leaned back. You knelt in front of him and carefully removed his shoes.

"There we go. Let's get you ready for bed." You told him, standing and guiding him towards his room. Once in there, you dug through his drawers and found a pair of sweats and a hoodie and laid them out for him.

"There. Get ready for bed. I'm gonna go get you some water and aspirin." You left him there as he began to pull at his coat. Walking into his kitchen, you made sure to take your time grabbing water and aspirin. You turned back to head towards his room again and nearly dropped the glass of water. A strangled noise left you.

"Why are you naked?!" You cried out, trying your best to not stare down your best friend who you maybe sort of had a huge crush on. But it was hard when he had such a nice chest, defined abs, a v that lead to-

No! Focus! You berated yourself. Matt made a confused noise and it brought your attention back to his face which had an adorably confused puppy look.

"You said to get ready for bed."

"Yes. Did you not like the clothes I laid out for you? Wait- Do you- Do you sleep naked, Matthew?"

"Feels better on my skin." He grumbled.

"Oookay, well can you at least put on some underwear? Please?"

"Why? Do you not like what you see?" You choked and put down the water and aspirin so you could cover your face.

"Jesus Christ-"

"Blasphemy!"

"Matt, please. I am begging here. Put your clothes on." He muttered something that sounded awfully like "not how I wanted you begging." Before disappearing back into the room.

You let out another strangled noise. The view from the back was just as good as the view from the front.

"Okay, I'm decent." He tossed the word decent out like it was a curse and you couldn't help but to laugh. The whole situation was ridiculous.

Walking into his room, you saw him curled in bed with his back to you, hoodie and sweats now on. You set the water and aspirin down and walked around the bed so you could sit next to him.

"You gonna be okay?"

"'M fine." He said.

"We gonna talk about what has you so grumpy in the morning?" Matt pouted and shook his head vehemently. You sighed and stood, preparing to leave him to his mopiness. A hand on your wrist stopped you.

"Stay? Please? I'll stay on my side of the bed, I promise." Your heart broke at how small he suddenly sounded and seemed and you found yourself agreeing. You stole a pair of sweats and a shirt and changed into them quickly before climbing into bed.

"Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

When you woke the next morning, you smiled to yourself.

He did not stay on his side of the bed.

[weirdmorefics]

Cause The Haters Gonna Hate- Carmy X Reader

Reader Pronouns- She/ Her

Word Count- 443

Summary- Richie is going to lose it on the reader who won't stop singing Taylor Swift but Carmy saves the day.

"I swear to god Y/n if you don't stop singing Taylor Swift I am gonna come back there and strangle you!" Richie shouts as I help Marcus frost the fresh donuts.

"Richie you are no fun I bet you like Kayne!" I shout back with the same attitude. I then proceed to sing cause the haters gonna hate hate hate.

"That's it Y/n I hear enough Taylor Swift for the whole universe thanks to my daughter. I don't need to hear it at work!" He shouts making his way to the back of house.

I continue to sing anyway just to irk him at this point. I point at him and sing in my insanely pitchy voice "Said I did something bad then why does it feel so good!"

Richie gets right in my face fuming knife in hand and I laugh so hard, "What are you going to do stab me over Taylor Swift cause that would be hilarious. Will you make sure they write? Here lies Y/n tragically killed for loving Taylor Swift too much." I gesture the placement of the words in the air with my hands. I tilt my head pout, "I do think it would be quite lengthy. What do you think?"

"Carmy! Deal with your girlfriend she is clinically insane!" Says annoyed running his hand over his head.

"Says the man who was screaming singing Love Story in his car the other day," Carmy laughs.

My jaw drops and I clap my hand over my mouth, "You're a Swiftie!! This is so great! I can't believe it!" Then I glare over at Carmy and point, "And you weren't going to tell me!"

"I thought I would keep it as leverage but my girlfriend needed saving from being stabbed," he shook his end.

"Yeah good for you shouting that in the kitchen because now I am going to stab you!" Richie shouts.

"Run Carmy! Run!" I shout.

Carmy rolls his eyes, "Enough, back to work everyone." he looks to me with those stupid puppy dog eyes, "And Y/n please limit the Taylor Swift."

I roll my eyes but defeatedly pout "Yes, chef."

Richie starts to leave back to front of house but not before saying " I win"

"Did you Richie because now the whole restaurant knows you sing Love Story loudly by yourself?" Carmy smirks.

"Shut up I'm not talking to you," Richie purposely bumps him as he walks by.

I victoriously stick my tongue out at him as he glares back at me.

"You both are so mature," Carmy sighs.

"I know," I bat my eyelashes as he chuckles and shakes his head.

[sunbitesworld]

JOSEPH HABERDAE X READER

GN! Reader

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, belly bulge, slight size kink, use of doll, dolly, pretty, whore, & sweet thing, mating press, rough sex, slight degrading kink, creampie.

"Look at me, sweet thing~" Joseph cooed, grabbing your chin with one hand. He titled your head to look up at him, his smirk only growing when he heard your sweet little whimpers.

"Ya look so fuckin' cute like this, doll." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your neck. He grabbed your other hand, setting it on the bulge in your stomach. "Ya feel that? That's Daddy...~" He bit his lip, glancing down at the bump.

You gently pushed down, causing him to lean his head back with a groan. "Yer gonna regret that, dolly~" He breathed out, grabbing you by the waist and moving you from the spot on his lap. "Daddy..." You whined at the feeling of emptiness, racking your nails down his back.

He hissed at the feeling as practically bent you like a pretzel. Before you knew it, your knees were beside your head. Your eyes rolled back as he slowly pushed his cock back inside of your tight hole. "Daddy...!~" You moaned, unable to move due to the mating press he had you in.

"I'll have ya unable to speak by the time we're done, sweet thing~ You just sit pretty and let Daddy take care of ya." He winked down at you, before kissing your forehead. You smiled at the sweet gesture, before noticing his unusual staring.

He was looking at you with hooded eyes, biting down on his lip so hard it could start bleeding. He was holding back, you can tell he wanted to say something. You went to say it was okay, but he spoke up before you could.

"I just want ya to know I love you, because the way I'm about to treat ya might seem...disrespectful~" You swear that his voice dropped a whole octave, the words alone had your gummy walls fluttering around him.

He held your legs in place as he slowly started thrusting into you, whispering a sinful words into your ear. "Look at ya, dolly. Already getting all excited?" He chuckled, pressing his forehead against yours. "Trust me, sweet thing. This is nothing~"

He punctuated his last word with a rough thrust, causing you to lean your head back against the pillows. "Yer so desperate for me, huh? God, yer practically suckin' me in~" His thrusts started to get rougher, yet he kept his slow pace.

"You want Daddy to be rough with ya? Treat ya like some whore?" You could only nod at his words, fisting the sheets beneath you for dear life. "Say it, or I'll stop." His tone was harsh, but that only turned you on more.

"Y-Yes Daddy, please treat me like a whore!" You nearly screamed in frustration and need. He only let out a low grunt, pulling all the way out so only the tip remained in. "Remember pretty, ya asked for this~"

With one very rough thrust, he was all the way inside you again. You let out a loud strangled moan, your brain already turning into mush. "Fuck!~" You bit your lip, trying to keep your eyes from rolling back into your skull again.

He looked down at you, smirking slightly at your reaction. He was completely in control, it absolutely drove him crazy. It was like a switch flipped in his head as he let go. "Fuck dolly, ya feel so good!~" He groaned, his thrusts now quick and rough.

You were moaning so loud, you were sure the neighbors could hear you. Though, that's the least of both of your worries right now. The only thing that mattered in the moment was the two of you, nothing else. You snapped out of your trance when Joseph pressed his forehead against yours again.

"Fuckin' love ya, doll. So fuckin' much!" He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as your walls clamped down around him. You gasped the moment he hit that perfect spot inside of you, causing you to pull on the sheets as your body started to twitch.

He could tell you were close already by your bodies reaction, he was close too. "Gonna cum for me, pretty? Be my good little dolly?" He was practically slurring his words, the bed creaking loudly with each thrust. You swear you heard the headboard crack, but you were too preoccupied to care.

Your loud screams of pleasure mixed with his grunts filled the room as both of you fell over the edge. "Fuckkk...~" He raked his hair back with his hand, panting heavily. "Ya still with me, sweet thing?" He cooed, leaning down to gently cup your face with both his hands.

You could only nod, too out of breath to respond to him verbally. "Ya did so good. Let's get ya cleaned up..." He slowly pulled out, groaning slightly as his cum dripped out of your hole. "...Ya got one more round in ya, dolly? Daddy needs ya again~"

[delopsia]

Something Unholy | Rhett Abbot x Reader

Word Count: 3,600 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex in a church, mild size-kink, and a dash of Rhett having a corruption kink and getting off on the idea of cumming inside you.

"I sure hope you ain't tellin' me what to do, dollface."

Oh, the things you would give to wrap both your hands around this motherfuckers thick neck and—

"—Can you please, just put the paper towels on the shelf?" Speaking in the firmest tone you can muster, cheeks flaming so hot you fear they may turn cherry red.

"And why does this have to involve me?" God, Rhett just keeps going; the choir girls are starting to notice, casting wayward glances from under false lashes as they whisper amongst each other behind open palms.

"Because you're tall enough to reach the shelf, and I'm not," pushing the paper towels toward him once more, forcing him to take them, "and if God wanted me to put them up there, he would have made me taller, or he would have given me a stepping stool."

For the first time all morning, Rhett's quiet, and for as much as he's fussed about this, you'd think this momentous task would take him longer than three seconds to complete. You're starting to see why Cece doesn't drag him along to Sunday services more often.

He continues to loom in the corner, leaning up against the wall like some sort of hot shot whilst he just watches. Wild blue eyes follow your every movement as you finish setting up the coffee booth like he's getting some sort of enjoyment out of watching you mull about. Doesn't offer help, just watches.

Asshole.

As soon as you start to walk away, ready to settle into the corner of an old, stained church pew, he pushes off the wall and starts to walk too. Like a shadow, following each and every step until all of a sudden, you're sitting between the end of the bench and Rhett Abbott.

"Do you have to sit so close to me?" Grumbling, you try to scoot further off, but there's not enough space for you to do so.

Rhett's jeaned thigh presses harder against your own, "yes, I do, actually."

"You're an ass," it comes out louder than you intend to, but if anyone overhears, they don't mention it. Not yet, at least.

"Wow, swearing in church now, are we?" Smug.

You're still contemplating strangling him right here and now; an attempted murder charge sounds a lot better than sitting in this hell for an hour and a half. The bastard is probably into it, knowing his reputation. The only thing that actually stops you from finding out is the sudden booming voice from the podium, commanding all eyes and ears on him, silence falling upon the room.

Usually, the preacher's go-to is to have everyone shake hands and welcome one another, but you're thankful that he skips right over the tradition in favor of jumping straight into his speech. A direct continuation of last week's sermon, according to the woman whispering behind you. You're not quite sure how, but you know Rhett would have given you more trouble if you got up to greet people.

As if on cue, a calloused hand settles on your exposed knee, just below the hem of your Sunday dress. Maybe it's because the air conditioner is running in the middle of December, but his hand feels so hot you fear it may melt right through your skin.

"Rhett," whispering as quietly as you can, "get your hands off me."

It only serves to make your situation worse because he leans over to whisper directly into your ear, "seems to me you're in need of someone to keep you warm."

Teeth nip at the lobe of your ear, tugging on it for a fleeting second. His hand slides off your knee, if only for a muscular arm to drape over your shoulders instead. Great, absolutely wonderful.

But God, he's warm, and he's changed his started wearing that seasonal cologne he wears every December. Something bordering hot chocolate and vanilla, not overly sweet but so, so warm. It matches him in the strangest of ways, you conclude, as you reluctantly melt into his side.

Okay, this is...alright. There are several couples doing this very thing in front of you, nothing weird about this at all. It's not like you can argue when Rhett is practically a blazing furnace right next to you; this dress is cute, but it definitely was not made for the colder months. 

For a long minute, all you find yourself doing is curling into Rhett Abbott's side and listening to the preacher's voice as it grows louder and louder. A relaxed conversation about coming clean to those around you devolves into a rant about sinners and sex before marriage. The longer it goes, the stiffer Rhett becomes next to you, until all of a sudden, he's drawing away from you.

Without a word, he gets up and walks out. 

Strangely, you don't hear the front doors squeak open, nor do you feel the icy draft that always sneaks inside. For a minute, you reckon he's just gone to the men's room. The more time passes, the more you don't think that's so true. 

Fifteen minutes after Rhett vanished, you excuse yourself and quietly venture out into the hallway. 

"Rhett?" You try, but your voice vanishes under the preacher's louder one.

Even so, the felt brim of a cowboy hat pokes out from behind a door, dark brown in color and a little ripped in the front. You only know one man with a hat like that. It seems he didn't hear you because he's eyes brighten at the sight of you like he's been waiting on you to come looking for him this whole time. 

"There you are," he breathes, struggling to fight off the shit-eating grin that's working its way across his face as he reaches for you. "Did I even manage to get under your skin?" 

"I thought you were kidding when you suggested this shit," you hiss, but you don't stop him from guiding you into this tiny little office space with its large mahogany desk and beat-up loveseat. "Of course, you got under my skin, you ass!"

Rhett shoves you down onto the couch with a soft thump and drops to his knees so swiftly that you hear them hit the floor. The force of it jostles his hat, but he's not concerned in the slightest with readjusting it, "good." 

There's no teasing or beating around the bush in the way he pulls your hips toward the edge of the couch, rucking the skirt of your dress up in the process, "then I suppose you won't mind me making it up to you?" 

Hot breath ghosts up your cold thighs, sparks a newfound heat directly between your legs. Okay, that, that...

"Was this your plan all along?" Leaning into the cushions of the couch, this is all so sudden, but you're not one to complain when his nose is brushing against the only fabric he hasn't pushed to the side yet. 

"Do you expect anything less from me, darlin'?" Long lashes bat themselves up at you as he speaks, bordering devilish in tone and something soft in gaze. 

A hot tongue drags up the front of your panties, forces eye contact as he does so. So much all at once, but not enough. The vague pressure of his tongue isn't enough when there's such a thin layer of cotton separating him from where you want him. Only when you're about to pull them off yourself does he reach up and hook his fingers under the thin elastic waistband. 

"Bring your hips up, doll," murmuring into your thigh, and you're just barely able to muster the strength to do so. 

Finally, finally, he pulls your panties off, neatly folding and tucking them into his back pocket like a trophy. Sure hope you get those back; those are one of your current favorites. 

Your thoughts are cut short by the sudden sensation of a dripping tongue swirling at your clit, sloppy and oh-so-wet. It's so abrupt that you find yourself jolting away, only to be drawn back in by steady hands on your hips, holding you in place as he licks you up and down in fat stripes. 

"Rhett," gasping for a breath you can't seem to catch, "fuck, did you forget we're in church?" 

He hums into you, sends a shock wave up your spine with it. His wandering tongue finds your entrance, lapping at it incessantly but not quite pushing inside at first. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit, "been thinkin' of havin' you on my tongue since that alarm went off this mornin'." 

"So that's why you volunteered to come along?" Whining as he nods his head, "bastard—ah!" 

Just like that, Rhett's tongue slips inside of you, working in and out in languid thrusts as his nose presses harder into you. This little room is so quiet that you can hear the slick sound of his tongue working itself into your quivering cunt, his mouth so wet that it feels like he's drooling. 

Reaching down, he gets ahold of your thigh and guides your leg up over his shoulder, gives him better access to your writhing body. Practically fucks you open with his tongue, the soft tip of his nose bumping into your clit over and over. Enough to make you squirm, not enough to get you off. 

"Rhett, if you don't," the beginning of your threat is shaky, not intimidating even in the slightest, "get off that floor and fuck me right now."

His eyebrows raise, and his tongue slips out of you with the wettest noise you've ever heard. Fuck, he really must have been drooling, swollen, spit-slicked lips and wet chin glistening in the light, "yes, ma'am." The bastard just has to say it with a smile, too.

He makes no move to come up, though, and as his dominant hand lowers between your legs, you realize he's planning to lick you as he works you open. But you really, really want to kiss him right now. 

Lowering your leg from his shoulder, you seize him by the collar and pull. It takes him a moment to comply, and for a brief second, you think he's glued himself to that thinly-carpeted floor. With the softest whine, he rises, settling into the empty space next to you like a big ol' puppy. His eyes wide and confused, and it's not until you curl your fingers into his hair and drag him in that he realizes what you're doing.

"Kisses?" Whispering directly against your lips, surprised, but oh, does he just melt right into it. 

Soft, at first, just the simple mesh of lips that haven't touched each other since you first woke up, but then Rhett's finding his footing. Kisses you with a dizzying intensity, one hand cradling your cheek, the other slipping between your legs to tease the pad of his finger against your dripping entrance. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer, impossibly so, and it's so sloppy that you can't tell who's in control or who's calling the shots here. His thick finger presses into you, working in and out until he's knuckle deep, but he kisses you so softly, following your motions like a shadow. 

"Is that you clenchin' on my finger, or have I really not fucked you in a while?" His finger works in and out of you so slowly, a soft, simple motion that drags his knuckles against a gooey spot inside of you. Shit, when was—when was the last time you actually...?

"Both," you blurt, breathless, "I think this is the longest we've gone." Coincidentally, you think the last time you had sex was also on a couch. Given it was your couch and not some dingy thing in the back office of a church. 

It's only been a few weeks, three at the most, but it's been long enough for there to be a little bit of an ache as a second finger works into you. There's no way you're going to be walking out of here without a slight waddle in your step.

In and out, over and over, until he can work in a third. A thumb on your clit distracts you from the stretch, rubbing soft circles for every centimeter he eases into you. You're squirming, not sure if you're running away from the stimulation on your clit or chasing the feeling of those thick fingers delving in and out of you in short little thrusts. 

"Why are your fingers so fucking big?" Gasping as he kisses down your neck, those fingers curling against that little spot again. 

"Are they big?" And he's nibbling at the meet of your jaw, almost speaking directly into your ear, "or are you just small?" 

He's just big. 

Shaky, you fumble with his belt, absolutely relieved when you find that he isn't wearing one of those oversized rodeo buckles that are so hard to get open in times like these. Rhett chuckles against your skin, makes no effort to help or stop you as you pop the button to his jeans open. His fingers only quicken, properly fucking you with them now, and it makes it that much harder to reach past his waistband. 

"Shit," he hisses, jolting as your hand wraps around him and draws him out. Only letting him go to spit into your palm, wetting it just enough to stroke him smoothly. He's hard as a rock in your hand, heavy like one, too. Slow, he eases out of you, and with how empty you're feeling now, you hate to imagine how it's going to feel in a little bit. 

Your back hits the couch with a soft noise, the furniture creaking under the sudden placement of your weight. Then, Rhett's between your legs, the tip of his cock teasing against your freshly stretched rim but not pushing inside yet. 

"Didn't bring a condom," he breathes, "sure hope that ain't a problem, sweetheart." 

He sure doesn't sound apologetic. 

"Has it ever been a problem?" And there's more you want to say, but it's hard to speak when he presses into you, makes your back arch as he splits you wide open. 

Your legs clamp down around his lithe waist, lungs burning as you try and fail to regain your long-gone composure. Don't quite realize you had made a noise until he's shushing you, easing deeper inside until you feel his head fully enter you. Moves so, so slow that it's agonizing. 

Rhett pauses for just a second, chest heaving, "so tight, baby." 

"Can you move any faster?" You're intentionally leaving out the part that the longer he takes, the harder it is for you to keep your thighs from shaking around him.

"Hold on, darlin'," seizing your hips in his hands as he speaks, holding you still as he just about fucking stops, "I'm a little big for you, ain't I?" 

Big is a fucking understatement. Rhett's only about halfway in you, and you already can't fucking breathe. Never can. No matter how many times he's fucked you, slow, hard, it doesn't matter; you can never seem to get used to how big he is. 

His hands aren't big just for show; they're a fucking warning.

Finally, finally, finally, his hips come flush to yours, and you don't think there's any room for your lungs even to function anymore. Panting so hard that you don't realize Rhett's dropping to his forearms, kissing sweetly at your cheek. Such a stark contrast to the devilish roll of his hips between your legs. 

"Such a good girl for me," he soothes, "takin' every single inch just like that." 

His hips roll in tight little circles, getting you used to his size until you can catch your breath, long enough for your head to stop spinning, at least. All you have to do is nod your head once, and he's drawing back out of you, so familiar with your cues that he knows exactly what you're asking for. 

Then he's pushing back into you, and it's not even a long stroke, but it's enough to have you whimpering anyway. So thick that the head of his cock effortlessly massages the gooey spot inside your stretched pussy; you think you could cum just from this alone. 

"That preacher don't know what the hell he's talkin' about," and it's only now that you realize the sermon is still going, muffled but very audible through these old walls,  "every little lady deserves a man that can fuck her right." 

Rhett punctuates his sentence with a harder thrust, sending stars sparkling behind your eyelids like a light show.  Well, you can't argue with that statement. Not when he's doubling down and drilling into you in sharp, deep strokes that bullies his fat cockhead right into your sweet spot, kissing it with each and every stroke inward. 

"Rhett!" Fingernails dig into his shoulder blades, threatening to tear right into the thin material of his dress shirt. It's a kiss that smothers the whimper that boils out of your throat, dizzying but so, so tame compared to how his hips are working between your legs. 

"Look at you," leaning back until he's on his haunches, "innocent little thing gettin' fucked good by the big, bad cowboy." 

With that, he draws his hips back, snapping them back into you with a force that has you yelping. Hope nobody could hear that. Rhett's pace is changing, unrelenting, as he punches each and every breath out of your burning lungs. Feels so, so good that you can barely keep your eyes from fluttering shut, and it's all you can do to keep quiet when he licks his thumb and presses it into your swollen clit. 

"Oh, your hips are buckin' like mad now," and he has the absolute audacity to chuckle as he says it like he isn't in the middle of ruining you, "damn, girl."

"Hard to keep still when—" you can't finish your sentence, cut off by a wickedly sharp thrust, and he just holds it there. Grinding into you and eliciting this wet squelch that sounds absolutely sinful. 

It feels so good that the edges of your vision is starting to go white, and you don't know when you've started shaking, but you can't stop. Pussy throbbing as he settles down atop you again, legs just barely able to stay hooked over his hips. Rhett's moaning into your ear, deep and breathy, and you're not doing all that much, but it sounds like you're making him feel just as good as he's doing to you. 

"Do you wanna feel me cum inside you?" He whispers, biting at the shell of your ear, "do you wanna feel that?" 

All you can do is hum, barely able even to nod your head. The simple notion of Rhett cumming inside you is enough to have a coil tightening between your legs, clamping down impossibly tight around his thick cock. 

"Oh god," he's just barely able to keep talking, and the longer he goes on, the closer you can feel yourself getting, "so bad," punctuating it with another heavy thrust, "so bad."

You want to reach down between your legs and urge his thumb to rub you a little bit faster, but you're not even sure you can take any more than what he's giving you. Not when he keeps whispering dirty things in your ear, with these breathy little grunts that keep adding to the fire burning up in your lower belly. 

"So bad, but you make it so good," no, no, now you're batting his hand away from your clit, because if he keeps rubbing it while he's talking like this, your orgasm is going to his you right this very second. With another little grunt, Rhett starts talking again, "oh, baby, I'm gonna fill you up." 

His thrusts are quickening, hips getting twitchy and messing up his rhythm in the most delicious of ways, "'m gonna fill you up with my cum." 

All of a sudden, you can't breathe anymore, your body going taut as you cum around his twitching cock. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, heart pounding so heavily it just might break its way out your ribs. Everything's spinning; you can't fucking think; all you know is Rhett's grunting quietly into your ear, and his hips are stalling. Filling you with hot spurts of his cum, until there's not a single millimeter of empty space left inside you. 

"That's right," you can just barely hear him, but he's there, "that's fuckin' right, takin' every last drop of me." 

You're not sure how long it takes you to come back, to get your head out from the clouds and back down to earth, but when you do, Rhett's already eased himself out of you. Tucked away inside his jeans again, hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as his thumb pushes his cum back inside your swollen cunt. 

"You alright?" He asks sweetly, kissing the inside of your knee. 

It takes every fiber in your being to bring yourself to nod your head. Yeah, yeah, more than alright. 

"How 'bout I carry you outta here before they start lettin' folks out," he's so soft compared to just a few moments ago when he was drilling into you and whispering such filthy things, "get all settled up in a bath and have a nice, lazy day." 

All you have to do is hum your consent, and he's gathering you up into his chest, lifting you like it's the easiest thing he's ever done. It's hard to be cold when he picks his coat up off the rack on the way out, draping it over you like a big blanket. Yeah, a nice, lazy day sounds better than whatever the hell you had planned. 

And if anybody notices your sudden disappearances or the unmistakable sounds that came from the preacher's old office, they don't say a damn thing. 

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: I Just Really Hate Your Face

summary: Top Student Damian Wayne is assigned to tutor his high school's resident Juvenile Delinquent, Jonathan Kent, who seems less interested in his work and more interested in his handsome tutor.

Damian is *not* having it.

aka the Bad Boy x Good Student Jondami AU no one really asked for but i delivered anyways

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, sir?” Damian gritted out, unbelieving. 

Oblivious to the pain in his voice, the principal repeated what he had said just moments before in an overly-cheery tone.

“You are being assigned to tutor Jonathan Kent. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get his grades up by the end of this year, for both semesters. And perhaps you may be able to corral him into actually showing at his classes.”

Damian controlled the scowl beginning to show on his face. Jonathan Kent was the worst possible student he could have gotten. What would merely associating himself with a boy like that do to his spotless reputation? Surely, this would be placed on his record, and he didn’t see how tutoring the school’s resident juvenile delinquent would appeal him to universities.

And he was supposed to influence him? Gods above, help him.

“Sir. With all due respect, why is he even in this program? Certainly there are many other viable candidates…more respectable people that would benefit from my teaching.” he attempted to phrase this in a way that was not outright insulting.

“Damian, you are well aware, I'm sure, that you are this academy’s top student, and you’ve worked hard to get to this spot, unlike many other kids. I think that you can give Mr. Kent a push in the right direction, if not outright change him for the better. You signed up for this program, did you not?”

“I did, sir.” if not only for the nice view if would give his college admission.

“Then you will work with the student assigned to you. However, if there is no improvement, or you truly can’t manage him, you will have the option to switch, or drop the program completely. Is this more reasonable?”

Hm. It would have to do. “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

Let it be known that Damian Wayne was not a quitter, and stubborn enough to move a mountain with a single word if he so chose. Jonathan Kent would be a changed student by the end of the year, if he had his way.

Jon Kent rolled into school at approximately 12:37 on a saturday morning, already fifteen minutes late to his tutoring session. It was absolute hell for those forcing him to go to even make him get dressed, and he was prepared to stall as long as possible. Hell, if he was lucky, the tutor would be pretty and he could score himself a ticket outta there with a wink and a few well timed smiles. 

He entered the library, doing a quick once over, straightening his jacket and checking his eyeliner.

“Your studies are much more important than your appearance, Mr. Kent.” a voice drawled from behind him, and as he turned, a smirk came over his features.

Hello, Gorgeous.

The boy in front of him had delicately sharp features, striking green eyes framed by long lashes. His skin was a tantalizing carmel, clashing beautifully with the forest sleeves of his sweater. 

“If you could remove your jaw from the floor, we should begin.”

He had a mouth on him too. Perfect. 

“No name for me? Guess I'll just have to call you Beautiful.” Jon purred, the other boy’s face twisting in something that was definitely not a blush.

“It’s Damian. My name is Damian. We’re fifteen minutes behind already, if you could please take a seat.” 

Jon sidled up to his side as they walked towards the table with a sheaf of papers. 

“Damian, huh?” he tested the name out, rolling off his tongue pleasantly.

“Sounds familiar. Have we had a class together? I could swear we have chemistry .”

Damian looked torn between strangling Jon and strangling himself, settling only for a glare.

Jon was getting slightly annoyed. This guy was not taking the bait, and that was an excellent line for a nerd. 

“ Sit. ” Damian pointed to the chair, Jon muttering ”Bossy.” under his breath.

“Let me make myself extremely clear, Jonathan, I have one job here, and that is to raise your grades. If I don't, it will not look good for me, and will look even worse for you. I’m not here for you to flirt with, make friends, or be stared at, nor roped into whatever it is you have going on here.” Damian gestured to his whole with a manilla folder in hand.

Well. If that wasn’t both flat out rejection and  warning all at once, Jon'd be dammed. It hurt his pride slightly and added more fuel to the slowly building flame of annoyance.

“And what is this , exactly? Is that why you’re here? Teacher’s Pet turns the bad one into a brand-new man ?” 

Damian snorted. “As if anyone could part you from your disastrous fashion and life choices. No, as I've stated, I'm here to make your grades better, by having you do all the work.”

“That’s a contradictory statement.”

“Would you look at that, you’re already using your big boy words.” He deadpanned, flipping open the folder to show Jon’s transcripts.

“Honestly, just looking at these makes me want to burn them. The only class you are currently passing is AP Physics, with an 89%.” 

Huh, apparently he wasn’t completely dense.

“I can taste the approval, do good grades turn you on?” Jon taunted. “Must be so great, getting all the way to the top with only Daddy’s money.”

A dangerous scowl overtook his face and Jon quickly realized that was too far for today.

“For your information, Kent , not everyone has managed to stay in this school based on money and reputation alone, despite your clearly projected opinions. Now, should we get started, or do you have any more poorly based comments to share with the class?”

Jon glowered at both him and the papers, shaking his head once in a firm “No.”

“Good.” Damian’s smile was predatory in a way where he knew he had already won.

The other boy put up a stubborn fight when it came to learning, purposefully answering questions wrong and poking at Damian to watch him snap.There was a self-satisfied smirk when he did so, the older boy looking as if he wished to slap it off his face. 

After the third or fourth time of this, Damian slammed the math book closed.

“Kent, I’d like to pride myself on endurance when it comes to annoyances, due to several older brothers and sisters. However, should this continue, I have no qualms about leaving you to repeat your next two years five times over.”

“Can’t handle the heat, get out of the oven.” Jon challenged.

Damian, to his annoyance, appeared unfazed. “I should be saying this to you, when a few years from now, you’ll still be here. Now, should I go, or will you at least look like you’re attempting to be competent?”

Pretty face, pretty form, ugly words. 

Jon bit at his bottom lip, face turning into more of a petulant pout then a scowl. “Fine.”

What a child.

Damian made a dismissive ‘tt’ noise, and began the lesson again.

Two hours later, they emerged from the school, one with his pride flattened and brimming with emotions, and one with a folder and a smug smirk.

Jon spotted his elder brother Kon in the corner of the parking lot, perched on a motorcycle. He had a stupidly knowing grin on his face, causing Jon to scowl.

He swung a leg over the side and held onto his brother’s jacket.

“Next week, I expect you to be on time. Understood, Kent?” Damian tapped a pen to the large folder he held. He seemed completely undaunted by the fact that there was a motorcycle being driven by the school’s ex-local bad boy in front of him.

“Whatever.” 

“Try again, Kent.”

Jon huffed. “Yes, I'll try to make it on time.” 

“Good.” Damian flipped through the folder in front of him. “Your superiors will be pleased with these results. If you continue like this, we’ll be seeing a significant increase in your performance marks.”’

He nodded towards Kon as he closed the folder. “Have a pleasant evening, Connor. You as well, Jonathan.”

He walked away and the moment he was out of earshot, Kon pulled off his helmet and began to howl with laughter.

“Oh my God, you are whipped !” 

“Shut the fuck up, Connor, I am not and I hate his guts! Self-righteous little brat .” Jon hissed.

“He has you wrapped around his finger! At this rate, he’ll have whipped you into shape by the end of the semester!” He wiped away tears of laughter, chuckling still.

“I will resist.” Jon scowled. “And you’re smudging your eyeliner.”

“Am not! Brat.” Kon then returned to his knowing smirk. “Bet five bucks you thought he was hot, tried to hit on him and he rejected you to high hell.”

Jon’s silence was proof enough, sending Kon into another fit of laughter.

“Those Wayne boys, Jonno. The way you were headed, I’m surprised fate’s taken this long to send one to you. First Wally, then Roy, then me, and now you.”

“I will continue where I'm headed, and no stupid, annoying, pot-stirring stuck up good boys with pretty eyes are going to change me. Now drive.”

He kicked his older brother’s leg, Kon pulling his helmet back on. “Whatever you say, superbrat. But when you come crying to me when you can’t get past their straight A’s no-time-for-feelings exterior, I’ll have a bigass ‘told you so’ waiting for ya.”

Jon glowered as the bike started up. “Well, you can save it, cause it won’t happen!”

“Can’t hear you!” Kon sing-songed over the roar of the bike.

“Asshole!”

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective IV

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Unprotected non-con sex, rough body play & kissing, manhandling, caging, swearing, degradation, pet play, rough oral sex (Patrick receiving), nausea, exhaustion, hallucinations, fainting, near death experience (drowning/strangling).

— WORDS: 3k

— A/N: Sorry for the waiting, we hope you like it!🙏💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Faceless

Shaking and panting, Andrea clung to the shattered pieces of her dignity, her eyes tightly closed and her cheeks burning as if his cum was volcanic lava.

"I didn't know you were a sprinter," the detective teased, smearing his warm liquid around her lips to taste it. Then she looked up at him and noticed how hard he still was. "You laughed at me, but... it seems you have a problem with satisfying your hunger."

As they lay on the floor, the woman took the opportunity to look at the coffee table, at the big knife to be exact. Slowly, the woman sat up and wrapped her legs around Bateman, her hands sliding up and down his broad back.

"You like how tight I am, don't you?" Andrea whispered softly in his ear, her hand so close to the knife. "The girls you usually fuck don't feel this good?"

"Because they've all been fucked and used up by me already ... I'll get you there too," Patrick muttered, one hand finding its way to her ass cheek and giving it a sharp slap, the other pinning her wrist to the cool glass table.  "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet. You've got such a big mouth, but I'll have no problem stuffing it."

He had Andrea's chin in his rough grip now, forcing her lips into a pout. There was less than an inch between them as he spoke, a tone strangely intimate but his eyes dark and cold as ever. She met them with fierce defiance. Both palms were still on the knife - a brief and silent stare fight until Patrick had had enough. It was uncomfortable to admit it to himself after the detective had commented on it so accurately, but it was almost as if Patrick hadn't found any relief at all. He was as hard as ever.

Bateman let go of her, only to grab the back of Andrea's head and force it down. "Suck it."

'When was the last time I gave a blowjob?' Andrea wondered before licking her lips.

"Don't make me choke or I'll bite you!" The woman warned, wrapping a hand around his thick girth. The moment she took his pulsating dick into her warm mouth, she moaned from the taste of their shared pleasure. "It must be hard to live with something like that?" She teased with an unabashed look at his cock.

Smirking, the detective didn't wait for his answer as she continued to worship his meaty cock, sliding her tongue along the veins, feeling their pulsation and moaning each time his balls tightened in her grasp.

"God, Mr. Bateman," Andrea murmured, looking directly into his hazel eyes. "I'm such an amateur and I can feel your sac tensing so hard under my touch. I bet you like it that much?"

Patrick just laughed in disbelief, a sound that half turned into a groan when she accidentally teased a certain sensitive spot. But it wasn't Andrea's rather mediocre skills that drove him crazy. In terms of skills, the hookers he hired were obviously much better. But that smug smile of hers, those still full lips wrapped around his girth, the way she looked at his cock like it was the most perfect one she'd ever seen, let alone put her mouth on...

That was special. 

He couldn't stand it. 

"Shut up and stop playing around." With a rough tug on her hair, Patrick made the woman cough and drool, but any complaints were choked out of her as he shoved his length down her throat, past any resistance.  Then, Bateman bit his lip bloody, trying to keep from moaning too loudly. And unable to control himself, Patrick began to thrust into her mouth, treating it like another tight hole, digging his fingers painfully into her scalp.

Andrea's eyes watered constantly and she drooled like a waterfall from the way the curve of his dick scratched her throat. "Mmmh-mmm!" The woman whimpered around his pulsating flesh, leaning on his hips to slow him down a bit, but he ignored her sign of pure discomfort.

'I'm going to faint if he keeps this up,' the detective thought, glancing up at Bateman to see the look of pure bliss on his face. 'Fucking bastard, shit, I'm going to cum again.' With these thoughts, Andrea let go of his thighs and instead of focusing on the gagging sensation in her throat, she began to rub her clit in demanding, almost desperate motions, smearing her juices all over her swollen pussy, not caring if it stained the floor.

"Mmm, Batem-man," she gasped as he gave her a moment of reprieve. "You want to kill me with your fucking meat stick?" 

Andrea wanted to add something else, but she didn't have a chance as Bateman grabbed the back of her head and shoved his balls into her abused mouth, the moment she tasted his taut, warm flesh, the detective let out a pathetic cry as she felt so fucking degraded.

"Don't." Patrick shoved his shoe between her legs, dripping pussy staining the polished leather as he kicked her hand away. "You can't cum, unless I let you."

His sadistic hunger fed well on Andrea's disheveled state, those sweet and pitiful sounds, and her vulnerable position, forced to kneel at his feet. His hands tightened in her hair and the thrusts became more urgent as Patrick lost himself in his sickening pursuit of relief and absolute control. 

"Such a tight little mouth ... fuck, you were made to be used like this," he growled, no longer restrained and ready to blow.

Andrea's eyes were so wet that she couldn't even see his face as she looked up at him; the mixture of spit and his cum running shamelessly down her chin and then onto her exposed breasts.

"Mmhhh!" She whimpered breathlessly around his throbbing dick as he squeezed it almost to the hilt, causing the woman to nearly gag. "Bateman..." the detective rejoiced in a husky voice as he let her catch her breath. "Are you going to cum or what?"

The woman gave him a challenging look before Patrick thrust into her mouth again with increased ferocity, pulling at her hair and impaling her head on his beefy shaft. Trembling, Andrea didn't even try to lean against him to slow him down, instead the woman cupped his heavy sack and massaged it rhythmically with her sucking; the wet sounds she made were beyond imagination.

Patrick wiped away her tears with his thumb and caught her glassy gaze again. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes."

He arched her neck back harder, telling her to look up and focus on him and him alone as it seemed Andrea was on the verge of losing consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered like a trapped bird flapping its wings in vain, but she obeyed, keeping her eyes open even as they rolled back into her skull. 

"Ahhh, that's a good little bitch," Bateman groaned, the familiar tingle running down his spine and his balls tightening with need, signaling him that he was close. 

Slamming into her throat one last time, Patrick let himself go, his cock erupting in her mouth and filling it with his hot cum. He held her head in place, his hips stuttering wildly against Andrea's face until he was completely empty.

Andrea didn't remember passing out from exhaustion, her mind nothing but a black void, until she saw the outline of something familiar... or someone, if she was right. Her beloved boyfriend was calling to her, offering her a hand and inviting her to join him as they walked across a wide field. The woman felt relieved and happy to finally be with the man who could give her protection and stability. But was it really true? Piece by piece her perfect dream shattered before her eyes and when she opened them the next time, Andrea found herself in a goddamn cage. It was not as big as the cells in the police station, but the fact that she was locked in such a place was enough to make her panic.

"Bateman!" She yelped, gripping the bars of the cage with all her might, realizing that she was still in his apartment, but not in the living room. God, he had locked her in the bedroom. It was only now that the detective noticed that she was completely naked, except for a black leather choker around her neck like a collar. "Let me out!" Andrea screamed, unsure if Bateman was even there.

Sobbing softly, she leaned against the cold bars of the cage, her hands sliding along them with visible trembling. Where was her boyfriend now? If he was so protective, would she be in this situation?

It was nothing new for Patrick to be distracted at work - lounging on his couch, sketching in his notebook, gossiping with the boys about hardbodies and the Patty Winters show - his mind all over the place. 

Today, however, his thoughts had been focused on a specific subject, taking shape as a voluptuous body and a pair of teary, dark eyes looking up at him, perhaps begging for more, perhaps just praying for release.

It wasn't as if Bateman had suddenly started to feel guilty about yesterday's events, but the consequences of his actions had only just begun to sink in: The detective would be part of his life now, for how long he couldn't predict. 

Somehow it felt like he was stuck with her now, not the other way around. 

When Patrick finally stepped in front of the cage, he fought an unusual kind of tension that tightened his intestines, and only seemingly indifferent he stared down at Andrea's figure while he unbuttoned his suit. It was a truly pitiful sight - Andrea curled up, her arms wrapped around her naked body, shaking so badly it was impossible to tell if she was crying or freezing. She must have been waiting for him all day, Patrick realized, not unlike a puppy that believes it has been abandoned by its owner. There was no clock in this room, the blinds had been torn off. No food either.  However, his fridge was filled with body parts and maybe expired yogurt. 

Patrick shoved his shoe between the bars, forcing Andrea to turn around and face him in all her vulnerability. 'God, she really cries.'

He wasn't quite sure how he should feel about this, remembering her stubborn temper all too well. Now Andrea's eyes were red and filled with panic, and she whimpered at the harsh contact with his sole. Her whole body was covered with goosebumps as well. In this state she would die of frostbite, and wouldn't that be a waste of his efforts?

"You look like hell, and I don't like it." Patrick unlocked the door and threw Andrea over his shoulder so he could carry her to the bathroom. 'This isn't about her comfort at all, I'll just keep her alive like this.'

As soon as Bateman entered the bathroom and put the woman on her feet, Andrea fell to the floor and crawled to the toilet, vomiting from intense hunger. She was starving, dehydrated, exhausted and cold. Shaking, she slid down the smooth marble and lay on her side, tears streaming down her pale face. The detective blinked several times as she saw her boyfriend's face again.

"Hayden..." Andrea murmured, reaching out to the blurred image of her lover. "I was just trying to do my j-job..." the woman closed her eyes and dropped her hands to the floor. "I'm so...sorry...Hayden..." she cried out before fading out.

The darkness consumed her, only to let her hear the voice of her mentor, Detective Kimball. "Listen to me, Andrea, listen to me very carefully," he paused, puffing on his cigarette. "This man, Patrick Bateman, is extremely dangerous, I want you to remember that. Always." 

"I understand, sir." The woman replied, hiding her notebook.

Andrea could see their conversation as if she was watching the movie, it was so strange and overwhelming that she felt nauseous, like she was drowning.

The woman’s eyes wandered aimlessly around the bathroom, and while this proved her conscious state, she was still unable to see Patrick. The name she kept calling out was foreign to him and as she mumbled more words, incoherent and confused, it became clear that the woman was hallucinating or even experiencing a panic attack. 

Patrick hated it. He didn't really know what to do with a body he had to save. 

 Of course, the slap on the cheek did not help either. 

Finally, he decided to fill a glass with water and let her swallow a Xanax, then took a pill himself - all with one free arm, since he had to stabilize her body with the other. She was still shivering in his embrace, unable even to sit up in the bathtub, and without his support her head would have gone submerged. Patrick distantly remembered that the scent of lavender was supposed to calm people, so he added a generous amount of bath oil to the water.  While Andrea slowly warmed up under his touch, Patrick couldn't help but sweat in the humid atmosphere that was his bathroom. He was ridiculously overdressed in his wool pants and shoes, and his shirt had become quite wet in the process. The feeling of the fabric clinging to his skin made him shiver. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, which was starting to fog up at the corners, Patrick realized that he looked about as disheveled as Andrea now.

It was getting a little hard to justify why he was doing all this. 

'I could just push her head under water, and it would be over in a few minutes.'

But just as this cruel thought flashed through his mind, Andrea began to move her head, wriggling out of his grasp and turning to face him, though her movements were somewhat sluggish.

"Hayden, huh? How could you mistake me for your boyfriend?" Patrick wondered, testing if she had come to her senses yet. 

Still shivering, the woman inhaled deeply as if she could finally breathe, her lungs burning from the pain and tension. "Don't... don't you dare say his name," Andrea managed to pronounce while observing the situation she found herself in. "Are you going to kill me now?" The detective asked as she looked down at the water. "To be drowned in such an opulent bathroom... how generous of you."

Only now did Andrea smell the lavender scent that slowly enveloped her like a mist, clouding her mind and making her go limp again in his arms - they were the strongest she had ever known - tight as ropes. He could end people's lives so easily with such a grip, just by strangling them or breaking their necks. With a loud sob, the woman looked up at Bateman's vacant face again, but then she had to close her eyes as she felt his painful pinch on her nipple, she thought he was going to tear off the piece of flesh. 

"Stop!" She screamed, but her body didn't listen, like a broken porcelain doll. "Get...off," Andrea's vision blurred and after several blinks she saw Hayden's face above her again. Almost breathlessly, she let him kiss her, relishing the sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth, not bothering to hold back the moans that rippled through her mouth. "I... I need you, Hayden," the woman bubbled, and the next moment she was pushed violently underwater. Suffocating, Andrea opened her eyes wide to see the black marble of the tub - a testament to her imminent death as the lack of oxygen spurred her to let go and relax, to let the darkness finally take away all the pain and suffering. With that, the woman looked at the bubbles coming out of her mouth one last time before she blacked out, but then she was pulled up roughly and she took a raspy, desperate breath, coughing out the water and her heart seemed to stop from being so close to death.

"Don't. Don't say that name. It will never get you out of here." There was something about the repeated mention of her boyfriend that drove Patrick crazy. If he was going to kill her after all, he should be the last person on Andrea's mind; not even in her thoughts should she be able to escape him. "Do you think he would even want you back? Like this?" 

Bateman grabbed her by the neck and forced her to look into the mirror. Only the bruises he had inflicted on her last night appeared as purple spots all over her body. 

"I am your only hope now. But whether you want to live or die, I'll make you work for it!" It was a moment of revelation for Patrick, to his own surprise. 

He finally began to understand his motivation for all of this - replaceable in every aspect of his life, as Vice President, fiancé, son, and in his human existence, he was about to become her destiny. If anything happened to him, the detective would have to die as well, still trapped and abandoned. There was no other use for imprisoning Andrea instead of killing her, except to play master over a human life. 

Andrea's body felt boneless as he bent her torso over the tub edge and ran his fingers across Andrea's lower back, just above her ass and over the ink that was beginning to blur at the edges. 'I probably went to Harvard while she got this pathetic symbol of rebellion.'

Patrick had only seen the tattoo after she had fainted, and it had become a fixation for him ever since, to his own horror, arousing something beyond disgust in him. 

"Was that your first job? Hunts Point street hooker? Then you should be used to it." Shaking, maybe from the climate of the room, probably from the rush of sick desire that overcame him, he held Andrea close to him, so close that it was nothing but pain, and close to her lips he promised: "I'll fuck you and you'll come alive, you little pathetic bitch!"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Trying Not to Love You (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warning: swearing

Summary: Pt2 of Could Sure Use Your Company. As Joel tries his best to avoid you, the more you seem to wiggle your way into his heart. Inspired by Nickelback's - Trying Not to Love You.

Joel Miller had never thought himself a coward, yet the fact that he was avoiding you like the plague proved otherwise. It wasn't that he was afraid of you per se, it was the feelings that had laid dormant within him for years, and that you had now awoken that scared the shit out of Joel. Just when Joel thought things were going on the right path for Ellie and him after Salt Lake, in blew you like a gust of wind; singing your way into his what he thought to be frozen heart.

After having managed to dodge you for almost two weeks, Joel knew his luck was bound to run out and it seemed that moment was today.

You call to me, and I fall at your feet

How could anyone ask for more? (How could anyone ask for more?) And our time apart, like knives in my heart How could anyone ask for more? (How could anyone ask for more?)

But if there's a pill to help me forget God knows I haven't found it yet But I'm dying to God, I'm trying to

* 

"Long time no see stranger..." you greet Joel while placing a drink down on the table he was seated at.

"Uh... just been busy" Joel manages to nervously splutter out in response.

"Must be real busy if this only your second time comin' here..." you remark.

"Oh, he's been here a couple times in the last week or so" Tommy offers up, and Joel shoots him a silent glare. 

You audibly scoff, placing both hands on your hips as you raise a brow at Joel, "so, ya been avoiding me then, by coming when it ain't my shift?"

Joel's eyes widen in panic as he strangles for a response, causing you to chuckle out at his reaction.

"Relax... I'm just messing with ya..."

Joel lets out a silent breath of relief, a faint smirk passing his lips at your infectious laughter.

"Anyway... I managed to get my hands on that bass guitar" you flash him eager grin, causing Tommy to softly snicker.

 "What's so funny?" you shoot a raised brow in his direction.

"Nothing, Ma'am" Tommy stammers.

"Thought as much" you smugly remark, turning back toward Joel then.

"So, I'll bring it around to yours tomorrow then you can get accustomed to it a bit before showing the kids how it works."

Joel stares at you opened mouth at your request or rather, your statement of command.

"Ok..." was all he finally manages to say.

 "Great!" you flash him a pleased grin, turning to head back to bar.

"Looks like someone's got ya wrapped around their finger..." Tommy amusingly drawls. Joel eyes narrow in silent warning at him.

"Just sayin'..." Tommy shrugs.

"Well, don't" Joel growls out. Turning his attention back to the bar, grumbling into his drink as he stares at you. "I'm fucked."

'Cause trying not to love you only goes so far

Trying not to need you is tearing me apart Can't see the silver lining from down here on the floor And I just keep on trying but I don't know what for 'Cause trying not to love you Only makes me love you more

Only makes me love you more... 

Part3

[savventeen]

to build a home

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader rating: T (for swearing) wc: 3.7k summary: on the train ride back to meet jihoon's parents in person for the first time, you realize you don't really know what it's like to have a childhood home — at least, not in the sense that most people seem to have. but it's okay, because you've found a home in jihoon instead. warnings: talks about divorce (reader's parents) tags: fluff, this is so sappy guys, kind of emotional hurt/comfort, soonhoon best frienemies (they’re ride or die dw their friendship is just based on mutual teasing lol), vaguely implied asexual reader, a truly excessive amount of handholding, i really made jihoon into a hand-holding fiend and i'm Not Sorry a/n: this might be one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written since reader's experiences are 100% based off of my own lmao. also i can't believe i wrote almost 4k of them just talking on a train, like??? wow. also also, i listened to sleeping at last's cover of i'm gonna be (500 miles) on repeat while writing so i recommend giving it a listen for the Vibes haha

Jihoon was nervous.

Not in a bad way, of course. But he was taking you back home to stay with his parents for the next four days and they would be meeting you in person for the first time and he was nervous.

Soonyoung, the bastard, could definitely tell and had made it his mission to embarrass the hell out of him until the last possible second.

It was only supposed to be Seungcheol and Minghao dropping the two of you off at the train station, but Soonyoung had physically crammed himself into the backseat between you and Jihoon and refused to let go of either of you until you’d reached the train station. Even then, you had to physically pry him off of Jihoon and promise to tell Jihoon’s parents that Soonyoung loved them and missed them and—

“—make sure to take lots of pictures of all his cringey old anime posters!”

Soonyoung’s insistence is only diminished by the effort he’s exerting not to be forcefully dragged back into the car by a disgruntled Minghao. Jihoon knows Soonyoung’s being even more of a handful for his sake, and Jihoon is both filled with love and also the desire to strangle his best friend with his bare hands.

Minghao is able to get him mostly back in the car, Seungcheol watching on with a slightly fond but mostly concerned smile, but before they can get the door closed, Soonyoung claws his way back to the doorframe to tell you, “Also, his mom keeps all of his baby pictures in a bunch of photo books by the—”

“And that’s enough from you,” Jihoon interrupts, forcefully shoving Soonyoung back into the car by the face, Soonyoung screeching with poorly disguised glee, and slams the car door shut.

Jihoon waves at Seungcheol who he can see laughing through the glass as he pulls away from the curb, leaving the two of you standing with your suitcases.

He hears you giggling, and turns around to face you with a sigh. “Ignore him.”

You give a thoughtful hum, drawing it out as you grab the handle of your suitcase and wait for Jihoon to grab his and start walking with you through the station.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you finally decide, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Jihoon groans, tilting his head back as if to ask the universe why me?

“Why,” you continue, “embarrassed about your Nami posters?” 

Like Soonyoung, Jihoon knows you’re just teasing, and he falls into your easy banter with a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth.

He glares at you half-heartedly. “It’s poster, singular. And no, I’m not embarrassed,” he adds as you both make your way across the platform and into the closest empty train car (the only benefit of leaving at the ass-crack of dawn). “Why would I ever be embarrassed about Nami? She’s badass.” He grunts as he stands on his toes and lifts his luggage to store on the overhead rack and then reaches out to take yours as well. “Plus, you’re one to talk, with your weird shrimp god poster—“

And this argument is familiar, too. He can’t help but smirk as you roll your eyes in exasperation and slide into the seat next to the window.

“It’s shrimp heaven,” you exclaim, “we’ve been over this.”

Jihoon just shakes his head, and he knows he sounds more than a little besotted when he says, “You listen to the weirdest shit.”

You give him a Look that manages to be both deadpan and undeniably fond, and no one except a few untitled projects saved on his external hard drive knows exactly how much he adores that particular look. “I am aware, yes, thank you.”

While this is the first time the two of you are traveling back to where Jihoon grew up, it is not the first time the two of you have traveled together. There’s a well-worn ease to the way your shoulders draw together like magnets, Jihoon offering up one of his earbuds as he balances his iPad across your joined knees.

It had scared him, the first time he felt himself leaning into your presence without a second thought — as easy and unthinkingly familiar as pulling on his favorite hoodie when he’s cold or the sound of his keys clinking against the countertop every night when he gets home. He’d never been one to seek out physical affection before, not unless he was desperate. But now he can’t help but feel like a flower seeking out the sun whenever he’s with you.

He leans his head against yours as he asks, “Want to watch some Bonobono?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a happy hum.

Jihoon presses play without further ado, and the two of you settle in for the next few hours.

You get through a few episodes quickly before taking a quick snack break, and it’s only a few minutes into the next episode that Jihoon notices you aren’t really paying attention. He turns his head where it's resting on your shoulder to get a better look at your profile, but he’s not able to see much since you have your own head turned to look out the window.

He finishes the episode and gets halfway through the next one, glancing over at you every few minutes, before deciding it’s time for him to check in.

Starting conversations is still not one of his strong suits, but he’s discovered interesting ways to wiggle himself into them, mainly by tricking you into getting the ball rolling for him. It’s in these moments that he channels his inner Soonyoung (he is taking this train of thought to his grave, mind you) and asks himself “How would cat-me ask for attention in this moment?” (Again, taking this train of thought to the fucking grave.)

So Jihoon leans away from you just enough for him to be able to turn slightly in his seat and gently plonk his head against your shoulder. When he gets no reaction, he does it again. And again, before doing it one more time as your turn to look at him with an amused smile. “Hi? You having fun, there?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the “p”. “The funnest.”

You snort and shake your head at him. “Okay, babe.” You turn your attention back out the window and Jihoon frowns.

With a quiet huff, he plonks his head on your shoulder once again, pushing in with his forehead and rubbing it back and forth against your sweater.

You start giggling — and god, it’s still one of his favorite sounds, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it — and you turn to look at him again with a single eyebrow raised. “Yes, Jihoonie?”

He moves so his temple is resting on your shoulder and he can look at you properly. “You okay?” he asks, lighthearted and warm. “You’ve been staring out the window for a while, missed the last couple of episodes.”

You blink, a little surprised, and look down at the iPad still balanced between the two of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You give him a smile and shrug the shoulder he’s leaning on. “Just thinking.”

The automatic retort of “oh, dangerous” is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back with a small frown. He’s never liked when you apologize unnecessarily, but he knows it’s something you’ve been working on, so he decides not to bring attention to it this time.

“What about?” he asks instead.

You’ve turned your attention back to Bonobono at this point, and you respond with a distracted “Hm?”

Jihoon pokes your temple with one finger. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Oh.” You look at him, considering, and then you huff out a short laugh as you reach over to pause the video. “You actually,” you tell him, tucking the iPad into your lap as you turn in your seat to face him fully.

That was not what Jihoon was expecting. “Me?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the “p” just like he did earlier. “Your bedroom, more specifically.”

That was definitely not what Jihoon was expecting. Both of his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “My bedroom…” he trails off, voice dry and seeming to ask, are you really implying what I think you’re implying?

Your expression morphs into one of disgust so quickly Jihoon barks out a startled laugh. “Ew, no, don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I meant.”

Jihoon lets out a few of his own giggles as he asks, “What did you mean, then?”

He almost coos at the adorable way you pout as you cross your arms in faux anger. “Ugh, no I’m not telling you anymore if you’re just gonna tease me.”

“Aw come on,” he cajoles, reaching out to pry your crossed arms apart. “I only tease those who deserve it.”

You roll your eyes even as you let him pull your hands into his own. “Tell that to Soonyoung.”

“Are you kidding? He deserves it just for existing.”

You lift one of your conjoined hands to awkwardly point at him. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes. “Good. He needs the reminder.”

You fold over as you snort, falling into Jihoon’s space for a moment before you straighten back up with a beaming smile. “You’re such a terrible friend, Lee Jihoon.”

Closing his eyes, he nods solemnly. “I am aware of this, yes. It is my curse.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making him smack himself in the shoulder with your still joined hands. “You can be such a dramatic little shit sometimes.” There’s a glint in your eyes that tells Jihoon you’re about to say something purely because you know it’ll rile him up, and he’s proven right when the next words out of your mouth are, “Soonyoung must be rubbing off on you.”

Jihoon’s jaw drops in offended horror. “You’d better take that back right now, I swear to god, y/n—” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he untangles your fingers and digs them mercilessly into your sides.

You squeal at the onslaught and try your best to deflect, but Jihoon’s relentless and you’ve always been extremely ticklish, so it’s only a few moments later that you’re choking out through strained laughter, “Yield! Yield! Fuck, I yield, you absolute ass!”

Jihoon glares at you as he stops and generously lets you trap his fingers in your hold. “Take it back.”

“Yes, I take it back, geez,” you pant. He’s pretty sure he hears you follow it up with a near silent “Why are both of you so insane?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What was that?” He wiggles his fingers pointedly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, glaring at him half-heartedly before rolling your eyes. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Good,” he smirks, wiggling his fingers again, but this time so he can lace them once again with yours. He brings each of your hands up to his face and kisses your knuckles before bringing them back down to his lap and letting himself drink you in.

You’re looking at him with something teetering the edge between incredulous and fond and over-the-moon, and Jihoon thinks he probably looks like a smitten fool just based on the way his cheeks ache and his ears feel like they’re on fire.

He’s come to love moments like these, where the both of you take a moment to just… take each other in — to simply exist in each other’s presence and soak it all in like sponges. And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put into words exactly what it feels like to look and be looked at like this. To see and be seen.

Jihoon doesn’t try to find the words this time, just lets himself bask in your glow with a soft smile.

After a few moments, he brings himself to break the ambient quiet of the train. “Hey,” he murmurs.

Your response is as soft and quiet as the smile you tuck into the corner of your mouth. “Hi.”

He stares at you for another moment before saying, “You never ended up telling me, y’know.”

“Telling you what?”

“What you were thinking about earlier.” He starts idly rubbing his thumbs across the skin of your hands, tracing gentle arcs with the pads of his thumbs.

“Oh.” You scrunch up your face a little before smoothing it out with a small shrug. “Eh, it wasn’t anything important.”

“Hmm.” Something tells him it probably is something important — to you, at least. And even if it isn’t, he still wants to know. “Tell me anyway?”

You tilt your head and look at him with a confused sort of amused smile. “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

Because I’m highkey obsessed with you and always want to learn more about you and how you think, is what he doesn’t say. At least, not out loud and not right now. He knows it’d probably fluster you and he doesn’t want to distract you from answering any more than he already has. (And maybe he’s still struggling with saying his sappy thoughts directly to your face instead of hoarding them in various notebooks, but that’s a problem for future Jihoon to work through.)

“Just curious,” he murmurs with a shrug. “And we still have a couple of hours left on the train.”

You stare at him for a moment like you don’t quite believe him and are trying to find the lie somewhere on his face. But eventually you mutter, “Okay.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose. “Well,” you start, after a moment of collecting your thoughts. “I said I was thinking about your bedroom, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, so.” You purse your lips as you tighten your hold on Jihoon’s fingers, just for a moment, before loosening your grip with a quiet exhale. “I was mostly just trying to imagine what that’s like.”

Jihoon blinks at you. “...What having a bedroom is like?” His tone comes across more deadpan than he means, confusion flattening his question into more of a statement.

“No, no,” you shake your head. “What having a childhood bedroom is like.”

Jihoon blinks again, furrowing his brows. “...I don’t understand.”

“God, I’m not explaining this right,” you mutter, chewing on your lip in obvious thought. “Okay, so like… You know how in movies and books and stuff, a lot of times there’s this— trope, I guess, where a character goes back home and stays in their childhood bedroom and it’s like a glimpse into their past? A lot of times for comedic reasons?”

Jihoon slowly nods his head. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well.” You give a self-conscious little half-shrug that makes Jihoon’s chest hurt for some reason. “I was wondering what that’s like. Like…” You trail off for a moment, gaze drifting off to the side and focusing on the middle-distance. Jihoon forces himself to wait patiently as you try to find the words you need to explain, his thumbs continuing their silent metronome across your skin.

“What— what’s it like to have lived your entire childhood in the same house?” you start, gaze still locked somewhere off to the side. “To have the same four walls watch you go from toddler to kid to preteen to moody teenager and then reluctant adult? And to know those same walls are still watching you grow up.” You give a wistful little sigh and focus back on Jihoon with a crooked smile. “I’m trying to imagine what that’s like. Hadn’t realized how much of a foreign concept it was to me until I really started thinking about it,” you finish with a small huff.

During your whole little spiel, you hadn’t sounded sad or bitter or anything other than genuinely curious, but it still pokes at that little ache in Jihoon’s heart. He knows your parents divorced when you were young, and there’s a part of him that wishes you could have had the perfect childhood he knows doesn’t actually exist. He also knows you’re not one to really talk about yourself or your past, so he’s grateful for the vulnerability you’re sharing with him in this moment. Softly, he encourages you to share more with him. “You went back and forth between your parents a lot, right?”

“Oh, god yeah,” you laugh. “And not only that, but my mom could never stay in one place either. Growing up, I think my dad only moved like… four times? But my mom moved… uh.” Your brows furrow deeply for a moment. “Hang on, I need to think this out.”

Jihoon almost whines when you detangle your fingers from his, but manages to turn it into a pretty convincing cough. (It’s actually not at all convincing, but luckily you’re too preoccupied to properly clown him for it.) He watches you mutter to yourself with a small pout and then he looks back down at your hands like he can make them hold his if he just stares hard enough. Your fingers extend one by one as you count, and his pout falls away as one fist and then the other blooms fully. And then one fist closes again, leaving a single finger standing.

“So… eleven? Eleven times.”

He’d known you’d moved at least a few times as a kid, but… “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

Gently, he reaches out to hold your hands again. Squeezes. “And how often did you go back and forth?”

“Oh, god. That was a mess, too.” You’re laughing, but that ache in his chest keeps spreading, digging deeper. “We had different schedules that would change like— every few months. We did three days on, three days off, alternating sundays; we did two days on, two days off, with alternating weekends; at one point we even did every other weekday with alternating weekends… it was insane. Looking back, it seems even more insane.”

“Jesus.” He can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like — almost constantly being on the move. Especially as a kid. “How old were you when they split again?”

“Five.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, long and gusty. It doesn’t sound sad, at least, just tired. Maybe a little bit like release. Then you send a small, amused smile in his direction. “So you can kinda see why the whole “childhood bedroom” thing is such a foreign concept to me, right?”

He can see why. And it aches. “Yeah,” he breathes.

Some of that ache must show on his face because you gently scold him, “Hey, don’t look like that.” You untangle your fingers once again to cup both of his cheeks, thumbs pressing into the corners of his mouth and smoothing out his unconscious frown.

You look at him, soft and warm and so full of love Jihoon’s breath catches in his chest. And then you adjust your grip so you’re pinching his cheeks, and you wiggle his face a little bit. “This wasn’t supposed to be a sad thing, Hoonie. Just a “we had vastly different experiences” kind of thing.” You stop pinching his cheeks and go back to simply holding his face between your palms. “Like, I know it helped me understand the concept of “home is where the heart is,” yanno?”

And, oh. Oh, Jihoon is so very head-over-heels in love with you. He can feel that love pooling and swelling inside him, curling up between his ribs and tickling the tips of his fingers as reaches up to cover your hands with his.

“Hmm.” His mouth moves before his brain can catch up. “And where is your heart, y/n?” he breathes.

For one infinite moment suspended in time, you and Jihoon are the only two people to exist. The world around him disappears as your eyes bore into his, and Jihoon gets to watch something in them soften, melt — pool into something that looks a lot like love as you turn your hands to let go of his cheeks and hold his fingers instead.

You bring his hands to hover in front of his face, and you roll your lips between your teeth like you’re trying to hold back a smile. What you’re trying to say finally clicks in Jihoon’s mind when you glance down at his hands and then back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

All of the blood in his body rushes directly to his face and ears so quickly that Jihoon thinks he might burst into flames.

 “Nooooooooo,” he whines, hiding his blazing blush behind your entwined hands and ignoring the way you’re outright laughing at him now. He lowers your hands just enough so that he can glare at you from over the tops of your knuckles. “How are you able to say the cheesiest things without actually saying anything? I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” you giggle, like the absolutely adorable little shit you are.

Jihoon growls in frustrated adoration before licking the back of your hands in retaliation.

You screech and try to yank your hands back, but he’s the stronger one between the two of you and he refuses to let go. “Lee Jihoon, you animal, what is wrong with you?!”

“Vengence,” is all he mutters.

You splutter. “Vengence for what?”

He continues to half-heartedly glare at you as he brings your hands down and presses them to the left side of his chest. Vaguely, he wonders if you can feel the way his heart is pounding against his ribs. “For stealing my heart,” he pouts.

The sound that comes out of your mouth reminds him of a dying seal, and that’s how Jihoon knows it’s over for him — because he’s never heard a more endearing sound in his entire life and he thinks that maybe he’d do anything to hear it over and over again.

You continue to tease each other back and forth, your love for each other a steady undertow, and Jihoon realizes that while they may be heading back to the house he grew up in, it’s not home in the same sense any more.

Not when he looks at you and his heart sings a steady home, home, home inside his chest.

The thought doesn’t scare him nearly as much as he thinks it should.

Home, home, home.

He likes the sound of that.

[iheartyoimiya]

7. TEACHING

twitter + written

!

"i'm bad at everything, i swear," y/n groaned as wonhee dragged her down the hallway toward the school's patio.

"no you're not," wonhee replied, her tone light. "my family always says that the people who struggle in school end up doing great things later. just you wait."

"sure, wonhee," y/n mumbled, her resolve fading. she suddenly stopped by the bathroom. "i'll be with you guys in a second, okay?"

wonhee nodded, heading into the bustling patio where niki sat under a tree, absorbed in his phone and munching on lunch.

y/n stepped into the empty girls' bathroom, taking a moment to adjust her appearance in the mirror. she reapplied her lip gloss and smoothed her hair. feeling more confident, she pushed the door open to leave. but as she stepped out, she collided with someone real hard, sending the person's belongings tumbling to the floor.

"oh my god! i'm sorry!" y/n exclaimed, looking down to help gather the scattered items, taking the worksheets and pencils.

"oh no, i'm so sorry!" hanni said, her cheeks turning pink from embarrassment as she knelt beside y/n. "i should've watched where i was going" she was lucky there weren't many people around.

as they picked up the books and materials, hanni's art sketchbook fell open, revealing some sketches and drawings of random things.

y/n stood up with the sketchbook on her hand, breath caught in her throat. "wow, this is really cool, hold on hanni." she flipped through the book, forgetting all about it not being one of her personal belongings.

hanni looked up and stood as well, surprise flickering in her eyes at her name being remembered, then a shy awkward smile spread across her face. "thanks y/n."

"no, i'm serious," y/n said, feeling the need to express the compliment until hanni understood how good she was. "you are really good at doing this, i wish i could draw naturally like you. i'm really bad at art, and i'm sure mr. park is going to strangle me if i don't get any better," she laughed at herself, making hanni giggle a bit too.

hanni blushed a bit at the comment, but took her chance to hint something. for the past month, from far away, she had watched y/n be bad at art, and she was etching to take over all her work, it bothered her that her art didn't make sense. "oh i'm in mr. park's art class too, you know. my friend told me he's very strict, so maybe you should try to practice a bit." hanni shrugged lightly.

but the uninterested act didn't cause any trouble for y/n at all when she talked to people. "definitely! i mean, you could totally help me out or something," y/n smiled, clapping in excitement, already picturing herself as the next picasso of the seniors.

there was a moment of silence as they both looked at each other, something unspoken hanging in the air. hanni felt a warmth spreading in her cheeks, and

y/n's curious gaze lingered just a bit longer.

"maybe... maybe i can try to" hanni looked down, her voice soft. "i mean, i'm not a teacher.." she trailed off.

"i'd love that," y/n interrupted and ignored the second comment, closing the sketchbook and looked at the tree in the patio, seeing her best friends already arguing. "text me, please. i'll do anything not to fail this class" she almost begged, and gave hanni the book back, their hands brushed against each other again.

hanni agreed breathlessly, giving her a small grin.

and so y/n left for her friends, but didn't forget to look back for a moment. their eyes met, and for a second, the two girls felt as if something really important had happened.

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