#lose my number and keep my name out of your mouth

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[aemondfairy]

Thawed Out

summary: Frustrated after losing a game to your brothers’ team, you let Cregan take his frustration out on you.

pairing: Modern!Cregan x Targtower!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Explicit smut, semi-public/rough sex, spit, p in v, creampie, 18+ MDNI

note: Sorry it’s been a month since I’ve posted!! Watch this flop asdfghkl

Your eyelids flutter as Sara lightly dabs glittery eyeshadow onto them with her ring finger.

“Try to hold still,” she tells you, just as your reflection catches her eye in the mirror that hangs on the back of her closet door.

“Oh no,” she frowns, making note of the jersey you’re wearing, “Cregan is not going to like that.”

The jersey — all black, has no distinctive feature of any team, but it does have the name “Targaryen” etched onto the back, and 01 on the front, which is your brother Aemond’s hockey number.

Cregan is number 13.

“Targaryen is my last name,” you remind her, “and besides, Cregan is the one who wants to hide me. If he wants me to wear his jersey to games, he will have to make me more than just a fuck buddy,” you shrug.

Her lips turn downward into a frown, but she nods her head in agreement with you.

Very few people are aware of your relationship with Cregan. He’s a good guy with a big heart, the complete opposite of a fuckboy or a player. The main, if not only, reason why the two of you decided to keep things a secret was so you wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash from your brothers.

Cool air whips against your face, and tensions are high with only a few minutes left remaining of the game.

You watch on eagerly as Aegon pulls a move that is supposedly illegal, but the ref’s don’t seem to count it. Resulting in your brothers’ team winning the game.

You can’t help but wince as you watch Cregan rip his helmet off and make a beeline toward Aegon on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Aww,” your eldest brother frowns in response, “Run home with your tail between your legs!” he calls. Cregan grunts in response while the rest of Aegon’s teammates, Aemond included, howl maniacally like wolves. Making a mockery of Cregan and the rest of his team.

You roll your eyes at the scene and push your way out of the stands and through the crowd.

You pick at your fingernails nervously as you wait outside the locker room, refusing to enter until the remainder of Cregan’s teammates pass you by.

The smell of sweat fills your senses as you enter the abandoned locker room.

“Cregan,” you call, “baby?”

The locker room is quiet and dim. The only audible sound in the room is the faint buzzing of one of the poorly lit fluorescent lights.

Cregan is sat on one of the benches, his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You reach your arms around him.

“Hey,” you offer, “for what it’s worth, you did great.”

“I’m just so fucking pissed off!”

Cregan’s deep voice echoes through the locker room as he throws his stick to the floor. As mentioned earlier, Cregan’s a stand up guy, but his temper is a force to be reckoned with; and nothing sets it off quite like losing a hockey game.

“I know you’re upset baby,” you state empathetically as you dig the pads of your fingers into his shoulders. An attempt to massage the tense tissue, he all but grunts in response.

“You wanna take it out on me?”

“What?” He asks in a deadpan.

“Your frustration … you should just take it out on me.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows at this but he takes no time to react. He stands up quickly, his thick frame hovering over yours before he shoves you against the lockers abruptly. Gripping at your chin with force, he demands you to open your mouth. You oblige and he spits directly down your throat, you swallow obediently with a content mewl as wetness pools at your center.

A pathetic “please” is all you’re able to muster out to him as he stares at you hungrily.

He takes a seat on the bench, tugging his uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one swift motion, exposing his cock.

His calloused hands lift you onto his lap with haste. A shiver runs through your body as he yanks down your leggings and underwear in a quick swoop, causing you to hiss as cool air fans your cunt. It isn’t long before Cregan’s warm hand is cupping you, his fingers playing in your slick.

You want to cry out when he removes his hand from you but once his hands are at your thighs again, spreading you open, you feel the throbbing head of his cock prodding against you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, egging him on, “come on, I said, take it out on me.”

A growl erupts from his chest as he forcefully spears you down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes flutter shut and you try your best to suppress a moan as he begins to split you open.

He continues with unrelenting thrusts while his grip on your hips only tightens, taking full control.

“Fuckin. Targaryen’s,” he says through gritted teeth, harshly slapping the swell of your ass. Your head snaps up as you glare at him disapprovingly.

“Obviously not you baby,” he coo’s reassuringly, running his fingers along the red handprint that’s forming, soothing the pain before kneading at the tender flesh.

“It’s just— Gods, do they fuckin’ rile me up,” he mumbles as both his hands make their way to your waist again, helping him thrust into you even harder.

“I know, baby, I know” you whimper, pressing your forehead to his as he continues to fuck into you at an unrelenting pace.

“But you know just how to make me feel better, don’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out as he perfectly angles his cock against your cervix.

“Yeah you do, this sweet little pussy is all I need.”

You can feel the tension building in your body at his words, your breath coming out in short gasps as he expertly moves inside of you.

His fingers trail down from your hips to your cunt again, sending hot waves of electricity through you.

His intense, grey, gaze never leaves yours. With each thrust, you feel yourself on the brink of insanity. Each drag of his length has you closer and closer to the edge.

Cregan moves with determination, his body pressed hard against yours as he takes you to new heights of pleasure. His digits finally find the apex of your thighs and pinch at your throbbing bud, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Urging him on as he expertly works his fingers over your most sensitive spot. Each touch sends waves of pleasure through you. With one final pinch and a flick of his thumb, you’re cumming around him — gasping and trembling as the walls of your cunt tighten around his length.

His breathing comes labored and heavy, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his own release. His own hips stuttered as he felt you continue to pulse around him. Unable to keep his composure any longer, he lets out a loud groan and spills himself inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuckin’ Targaryen’s,” he drawls, this time his tone is filled with appreciation.

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） MIDNIGHT WISHES.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀something wakes you up in the middle of the night.

( 엔하이픈 제이크 ) ୨୧ f .. r 7OO fluff established relationship ── flirting kissing skinship not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

jiah says ⠀⦂ ⠀because it is mine, and i am sure, someone else’s birthday today ! happy birthday to us 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

the darkness of your room welcomes you as your eyelids get less and less heavy. you try to blink away your tiredness, fighting to keep consciousness although your bed is begging for you to go back to your dreaming state.

you groan, sitting down. the relaxing feeling taking over your body for a minute when you stretch your neck ends up being the thing fully waking you up. 

there is a song coming from your window. like something is tapping against it and if you felt like being paranoid you could swear your name is being called out there.

your gaze makes out the numbers on your numeric clock, “mid—” you start and with a sigh you finish, “—night.”

the sound outside gets louder while you reach for the lamp on your nightstand. your heart jumps in your chest when you see a shadow in front of your window. you have to close your eyes tight and open them again to realize it is real and is also—

“jake?” you say your boyfriend’s name in disbelief, jumping out of your bed to walk quickly to the window. opening it, you ask, “what are you doing he—”

hot lips collapse on yours as soon as the window is fully opened, he stumbles on his feet as he gets in but he would rather fall face flat on the floor while kissing you than letting you go.

after he gets in your room, he embraces your waist with one arm as his free hand holds the back of your head.

you kiss him back, of course, because you are completely sick. cupping his face, you let him tilt your head to the side to have a better access to your neck. he walks you both to your bed and when the back of your leg hits, your body falls on it, his falls on yours. 

he goes to kiss your cheek, leaving several pecks on the same spot. you smile while biting down your cheek, you already know you are looking like an idiot.

the ghost of his kisses remains as he holds himself on his forearms, “happy birthday,” he whispers. he kisses your nose, “my beautiful girl.” 

you open your mouth to say something; right, this is why he is here. the realization hits you like the sun on a summer day, it makes you tear up like when you stare at ir’s ray’s for too long. you close your mouth, smiling shyly. 

your knuckles brush against his cheek, “thank you,” you say. 

the tears in your eyes get heavier as you hold his gaze. you end up looking away, this is not a battle you can win, you accepted that a while ago. you have never heard your voice being so soft before,  “did you stay awake just to tell me that?”

he kisses your cheek again, “of course,” he goes to the opposite one, “i’ll give you your guft after school today, m’kay?”

you nod, eyes dragging over his form. jake is well dressed, as always. his hair is perfect and he smells nice, which would feel like the usual if it wasn’t the crack of dawn. which contrasts with you being dressed up in pink pajamas (what can you say? pink never goes wrong!). 

“were you dressed like that today?” you question him, fidgeting with the cole of his button up shirt.

and as if his only presence wasn’t making you lose your sanity enough, he has the audacity to blush when he answers your question. 

 “ah, no, i dressed for classes already because i assumed i would…” his voice gets progressively quieter as he speaks. to the point you don’t hear him anymore. 

“you thought you would stay for the night,”  you intended to turn that sentence into a question but it ended as an affirmation. your cheeks heart from how hard you are cheesing when your boyfriend shyly nods. 

he avoids your gaze for a while before your palm finds the back of his neck, “good,” you tell him before kissing him.

[horrorhot-line]

brontide

(n). the low rumble of distant thunder

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/female! reader

➵ word count: 3.2k

➵ genre: smut, nsfw

➵ warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, hate sex, rough sex, overstimulation.

➵ summary: studying for exams is never easy. add kusuke into the mix and it’s a whole different ball game. alternatively; saiki and you spend the day studying in your dorm room until kusuke drops by unannounced to see you. saiki is not happy.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵ previous part - quell

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: i’m still here guys don’t worry, i just won’t be posting multiple times a week like i did before cause of work, i saw this request, well there were two and i thought i’d post this while i still had inspo, as always, hope you enjoy!

this oneshot was requested here and here.

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"No, you don't understand," Apart from losing your mind, there was little you could do when the month of June came around. "Kusuo, I have SPOTS!" Exam season- your number one enemy when it came to skin.

You stared at the handheld mirror, shifting your face from left to right to look at the cluster of angry red pimples drowning your forehead. You swore you could make out constellations from them.

You exhaled through your nose and held back the need to sigh yet again; all the while, Saiki sat comfortably on your bed as he highlighted notes in his textbook. You resisted the urge to grab your phone and order more skincare off of tik tok to solve your predicament, instead opting to grab your own textbook before it fell off the edge of the bed.

The stress alone weighing you down was enough to motivate you to take a walk, but Saiki being around was the only thing keeping you rooted. "It'll clear up by itself," Saiki stated matter of factly, to which you responded by rolling your eyes. "I know that- but what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

Saiki finally looked up, his blue highlighter pausing centimetres away from the page as he stared at you through his eyebrows. "Study." The fear of spreading the spots was the only thing stopping you from slapping your hand to your forehead.

You rubbed your eyes and grabbed a pen to make flashcards- and an hour passed by in no time.

Your cramming session paused when the doorbell went off. You, knowing Saiki and yourself were the only people home for the weekend, meant that one out of the two of you would have to get the door. You looked up at the psychic with glassy eyes, blinking through the blurriness that came with studying too hard.

He gave you one look before silently going back to memorising the flashcards you had made earlier. You sighed, knowing full well it would be you answering the door. A second chime rang through the house, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. I'll get it." You announced before slipping off the bed and stuffing your feet into your fluffy slippers.

You quickly walked through the house, shouting, "I'm coming!" when the doorbell rang yet again. You grabbed the keys from your jacket on the coat rack and shoved them in the lock before pulling the handle down. When you opened the door to reveal the person who came calling, you realised it was none other than Kusuke—Saiki's older brother.

You raised an eyebrow at the man in front of you, feeling nothing but annoyance that he had shown up unannounced to your dorm room. Why had he not tried Saiki's room first? "What are you doing here?" Kusuke only gave you a small smile, one that meant he had anything but pure intentions. He held up the bag he was holding in front of you.

"I come bearing gifts." On closer inspection, you realised it was books- textbooks. "Are those...?" You trailed off, recognising the names on the spine of the books. "It's to help you on your finals," Kusuke said matter of factly, and all you could do was stare at the bag, wondering how he had managed to get his hands on them when even you couldn't.

You didn't get a chance to utter a word of thanks- Saiki appeared behind you, pulling you back with a hand on your waist. You gazed up at him and watched as Saiki glared at his older brother, his laid-back demeanour from before completely gone.

'I knew it.'

'Woah, how'd you get here.'

'I teleported.'

'Go figure.'

"Get out." Was all Saiki said, not even greeting Kusuke as he stood in front of you. You stared at the back of his head, the pink engulfing most of your vision, before you stepped to the side to gaze over his shoulder at Kusuke.

The blonde only gave his brother a closed-eyed smile, one that you knew wasn't sincere. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Saiki only narrowed his eyes at his older brother, and the two started a staring contest. “No.” You could only run your hand through your hair in exasperation, knowing full well that neither of them would yield and look away first.

You stepped past Saiki, banking on the fact that Saiki would read your thoughts- Kusuke would not leave; he would camp outside your dorm room door until you let him in. So you put your hand on top of Saiki's, which was on the door handle, softly taking it off before letting the blonde genius in with a sigh.

"Do you want tea- coffee?"

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You leaned forward to take a sip of your coffee awkwardly. You gazed up from the mug's rim and observed the situation before you. Saiki and Kusuke sat parallel to each other while you sat at the end of the dining table in the small of your kitchen.

They stared each other down, and all you could think was how goddamn quiet it was, save for your occasional sipping. The tension in the room was so thick you swore you could cut it with a knife. One thing that never changed from high school was that Saiki still resented his brother.

You had tried to make small talk, but the conversation had quickly died out, and the two brothers decided to lock eyes for an incredibly long period. You wished to any higher power that would listen- that this was not how you were fated to spend the rest of your night.

The sipping of your coffee halted when you realised you had drank all of it, and with yet another sigh, you got up from your seat- only for both Saiki brothers to look over at you. "Anyone want a refill?" You asked, holding up your empty mug.

You felt uneasy with the sickly sweet smile Kusuke sent your way. You gave him a strained one in response, feeling awkward yet again under his sharp gaze. "I'd love more coffee, thank you." You looked to Saiki, the corners of your lips stretching in sincerity as if to ask him the same question. Saiki only shook his head to say no.

With that, you briskly made your way to the cabinets on the far left of the kitchen. You put on the coffee machine, the whirring doing well to fill the silence from before. You hummed to yourself as you rinsed the cups before setting them on the kitchen counter.

Getting the sugar was always the hardest part of making any warm brew. Saiki had a habit of putting it on the higher shelf; you always wondered why- since you were sure he knew you weren't tall enough to reach it. It was because he liked it when you called for him to help you.

With one hand on the lower shelf, you got on your tip toes and blindly shuffled your hand around so you could feel for the sugar. When you felt someone else's body heat very close to yours- on your back, you assumed it was Saiki coming to your rescue yet again, like he always did. Your eyes trailed to the hand that reached higher than yours to grab the sugar, and you felt a hand grab your hip.

That was when you heard one of the mugs you had set down earlier- shatter, the distant sound of thunder accompanying it, and you whipped your head around to be faced with someone's chest. Saiki hadn't come to help you; you realised as you slowly looked up at his older brother. It was Kusuke that had decided to get the sugar for you.

You recoiled from his touch on instinct, stepping to the side, away from the broken ceramic that had landed on the kitchen tile. You looked to Saiki, whose face was stone cold as he stood up from his seat slowly.

"Get out," Saiki said, his voice icy. All you could do was gulp, too scared to say anything. You had never seen Saiki look so pissed off before. "Come now, baby brother. I was just trying to help." Kusuke reasoned- his shit-eating grin still on his face. "You come uninvited and put your hands on what's mine. I won't say it again. Get. Out."

You were sure Kusuke realised that the young psychic wasn't in the mood for his games today, considering you watched his smile falter. "Alright, Alright." Kusuke lifted his hands as if to admit defeat and left soon after that.

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It had all happened so fast. You had no idea how you had ended up pressed against your dorm's door. Well- you did, but you still had trouble wrapping your head around it.

After Kusuke left, with Saiki practically dragging him by the collar and kicking him out the door, you hot on their heels- he had locked the door to make sure his older brother wouldn't get back in. He then turned to you, his expression cold as he watched you.

All you could do was gaze up at him silently, feeling small as Saiki practically towered over you. Curse you for finding him hot when he was angry. Why did he have to look so goddamn attractive when he was glaring down at you.

You parted your lips to speak but didn't even get a chance to say one word.

Your vision went blurry, and you let out an "Oomph!" when your body made contact with your front door. You inhaled sharply when you felt Saiki's hand lift your shirt before resting his hand on your hip. Curse you for being so sensitive to his touch.

"Why did you let him in?" Saiki asked, bending his head down so it was right next to your ear, and it took everything in you to hold in any sounds when you felt his hot breath fanning the side of your neck. "You know why." You tried to keep your voice steady.

You couldn't lie; you were turned on- and you were sure Saiki knew as well. He pressed his hips into you, and you had to brace yourself when you felt how hard he was through his pants.

Saiki's hand found purchase on your neck, he gave it a light squeeze, and you clenched your jaw. You squeezed your legs, wishing the shorts you were wearing weren't there. You wanted to feel him, feel his skin on yours.

"You let him touch you." A gasp escaped your mouth when he pushed you forward and trapped you against the door with his body. Your head was turned to the side; your cheek felt cold against the cool surface of your door next to your hands. "I thought it was you, that's wh-" You didn't get to finish your sentence; Saiki brought his hand up to cover your mouth.

You had to strain your neck to look at him, wondering what had gotten into him. Saiki's eyebrows were furrowed, and you watched as he clenched his jaw. That was when you felt his free hand make its way under your top. Your thighs clenched on instinct; his hands felt so warm. All you could do was squirm as Saiki traced circles into your skin.

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to struggle as he slowly made his way to your shorts. A muffled moan left your lips when his hand covered your pussy; you could tell he was teasing you on purpose. "Look how wet you are. Is that for him? For Kusuke?" All you could do was shake your head at the notion. You knew, and so did Saiki, that it was all for him. So why ask? A moment of weakness on his side.

You squeezed your eye shut when he rubbed slow circles around your clit. This was torture. You wanted him- needed him inside you, and yet here he was, taking his time. He pulled his hand out of your shorts abruptly, and all you could do was moan in protest at the loss of warmth.

He brought his hand up to your eye level. "You're dripping," Saiki stated, pulling his fingers apart so you could see the clear strings of arousal clinging to his fingers. "I've barely touched you, y/n." You closed your eyes in embarrassment. Damn him and his ability to turn you on so easily.

Saiki grabbed your hand roughly and dragged you to the kitchen. You had no idea what he had in mind. You realised when he pushed you in front of the kitchen counter, his hips going back to pressing against your ass. "Grab the sugar, y/n." Was he trying to rewrite what Kusuke did?

You didn't need to be told twice- the cabinet was already open, so all you had to do was try and reach for it. Easier said than done, considering it was still on the top shelf. You stood on your tip toes, struggling.

When you heard shuffling from behind you and the feeling of your shorts sliding down your thighs, you expected him to shove his dick inside you. What you didn't see coming was him just putting his dick between your legs. Your arousal made it easy for him to move against your pussy. "Don't make me repeat myself; get the sugar."

Now he was just being cruel; how were you supposed to focus with his dick so close to you? You raised your arm yet again to try and grab the sugar with no luck.

"Squeeze your legs together." You could only do as you were told, not wanting to piss him off even more. Every time he rocked his hips back and forth, his tip dragged against your clit. Saiki's breathing sped up, and all you could do was moan. You squirmed against him, wanting him to stop teasing you.

"Stop struggling." Saiki's hand wrapped around your front and pressed his body against yours to limit your movements. His hand reached between your bodies, and every now and then, he'd slip the tip in. You cried out as he edged you, stopping when he knew you were close to cumming- the sugar long forgotten.

Saiki's lips brushed against the side of your neck, his hand still covering your mouth. He pulled his tip out, going back to teasing your clit, and that was it. You couldn't hold back anymore, feeling the familiar sensation of all your muscles clenching as you ended up cumming.

Saiki didn't let you ride out your high, his hand releasing its hold around your mouth so he could grip your hips, shoving his dick inside you in one go. You gasped, crying out at the feeling of being so full. He didn't wait for you to get used to him like he usually would, setting a brutal pace as he slammed his dick into you over and over again.

Tears pricked the side of your eyes, finding it hard to breathe. Saiki grunted, one hand letting go of your hips so he could cup your tits underneath your shirt. When you used your free arm to reach out behind you, placing your palm on his thigh to try and slow his sharp thrusts, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it against on the kitchen counter.

"You're mine," Saiki stated, dragging your body back with his before placing his other hand to make you bend forward. He folded the arm you used to try and stop him behind your back and continued pounding into you. "Take it. Take it," You moaned as he kicked your legs further apart before speeding up.

He slowed down, rolling his hips into you, hitting your cervix every time he did, and you whimpered. He let go of your hip to grab your other arm, stretching them behind you and using them as leverage to fuck you. You cried out his name because that was all you could do.

Without warning, he let go of your arm so he could use his free hand to wrap it around your neck, and forced you to stand straight. With his dick still inside you, he lifted you up with ease and carried you to your bedroom.

Using telekinesis, he opened the door and placed all the textbooks and pens on your that were on your bed onto your desk before pushing you forward so you fell on the bed. "Turn around, y/n. We're not done." You listened to his instructions, turning your spent body to face him.

Saiki placed a knee on the bed, making his way toward you as he gripped the bottom of his shirt before raising it above his head to take it off. He did the same with your top, discarding it on the floor before grabbing your ankle to pull you to him.

Saiki didn't give you a chance to protest (not that you would), lining himself up with your pussy before pushing himself back in. He bent down so all his weight was on you, placing his head next to yours on the bed as he kept thrusting into you.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you down so you couldn't leave. You scratched at Saiki's back, unable to do anything else but moan at his fast pace. "I'm close. I'm gonna cum." You clenched your eyes shut, overstimulated. You could feel him in your gut, and it didn't help that he was trying to go as fast and deep as possible.

Saiki pinned your wrist against the bed, bringing his other hand up to cover your mouth. The sound of his hips slapping into yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit, it was all too much. You came yet again, your thighs clenching at the feeling, but that didn't stop him.

He sped up, as if that was possible, fucking you until you were a mess and could barely think. "Say my name. Who do you belong to?" His hand left your mouth, and you threw your head back, pain and pleasure mixing into one. "You! I belong to you!" His name was all you could repeat, your back arching off the bed when you felt yourself cumming again.

Saiki grunted, trying to get as deep as he could. He filled you up with his cum, still thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you. "Cumming, cumming, cumming!" Saiki rolled his hips into yours slowly, making sure his cum was deep inside you.

You panted, feeling Saiki relax as he put all his weight onto you. All that could be heard was the sound of your breaths. You ran your free hand through his soft pink hair, "So this is what happens when you get jealous?"

"Shut up."

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

"Hey, Kusuo- what do we do with the textbooks?" You asked, holding up the bag on the kitchen table that Kusuke left for you. Saiki regarded it with one look, of disgust, and turned away from you. "Throw it away."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his remark, "But they'll help with the exams!" Saiki looked over his shoulder before turning back yet again so he could pay attention to the ramen he was cooking for you on the stove.

"I don't care. It's from him. Throw it."

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - cause for celebration (coming soon!)

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if you want to be tagged, let me know!

[yuujispinkhair]

Sometimes I think about being on a rush hour train with Yuji. Being packed close together but then he puts his hand under your skirt and has Sukuna eat you out. Just the thought of Yuji trying to keep you quiet as your thighs are trembling just… Ꮚ°͈ꈊ°͈Ꮚ I die

OMGG!! This is so fucking hot!! I had to write a little drabble! Thank you so much for sharing this sexy idea with me!

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (female), Sukuna x Reader Word Count: 400 Warnings: 18+, smut, oral, cum-eating, creampie, Sukuna's handmouth, poly, semi-public sex. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

Yuuji presses his firm body against you, hugging you tightly, nuzzling your neck, and smiling like an angel. To everyone around you, he looks like the sweet, caring boyfriend who just makes sure his girlfriend doesn't fall when the train moves.

But they don't know that under your skirt, he is rubbing slow circles around your clit while the King of Curses fucks you with the silky tongue that manifested on Yuuji's palm.

Your thighs are trembling, nails digging into Yuuji's biceps as you cling to him desperately, trying to fight the orgasm you can feel building up inside you. Your eyes are glazed over from pleasure, your heart is racing, your pussy is clenching.

Yuuji's breath caresses your ear as he tells you in that sexy horny voice,

"Please stay quiet, ok, cutie? I just want to make my girl feel good on this boring train ride. Want to make you cum all over Sukuna's mouth. He says he loves your taste. Just like I do. Fuck, I'm gonna eat you too when we're getting off the train."

His words only make it worse, and you can't help a soft moan from escaping your lips. Your hips buck helplessly as Sukuna and Yuuji share your pussy.

One moment Sukuna is fucking you with his tongue, and Yuuji caresses your needy clit, then Yuuji's thick fingers pump in and out of you while Sukuna's lips close around your clit and suck on it. And then they go back again to Sukuna licking into you with his hot tongue, and your boyfriend rubbing you with his strong but gentle fingers.

By now, the only thing holding you up are Yuuji's strong arms. Your lips part in another soft groan, unable to hold back, as you feel the beginnings of your orgasm wash over you. But luckily Yuuji's mouth is suddenly on yours, silencing you, swallowing your needy little moans while Sukuna swallows the cream gushing out of your twitching pussy when you cum on his tongue.

You can feel how hard Yuuji is, so turned on by the situation. You know the minute you are out of this train, he will take your hand and tug you along to a secluded space where he will bend you over the next best surface, lift your cute little skirt and eat you out until you sob his name.

And once you creamed on his tongue, your sweet boyfriend will pull down his pants and fuck you with needy hard thrusts until he fills your pussy with his hot cum.

And then Sukuna's nasty mouth will surely appear on Yuuji's cheek and give his orders to the two of you.

"Pull her panties up again, brat. And you, brat number two, keep it all in. I want to have my treat when we're back home."

Because you know what Sukuna loves even more than your taste is the taste of both of his brats combined.

AHHHHHH Anon, I am losing my mind!! Sukuna's handmouth always drives me wild!! And I have a thing for Yuuji and Sukuna sharing you because they come as a packaged deal anyways, and this way, everyone gets the most out of it ;) I am sending you lots of love for sharing this with me!!

[ynscrazylife]

could i please request an aaron hotchner x bau wife reader. maybe they are on a case away in a different state and y/n volunteers to go pick up food for her and the team and she ends up seeing the unsub and follows him to the location, which happens to be an abandoned warehouse and she calls aaron when she gets there and he tells her to wait but she doesn’t and hangs up the phone and ends up getting stabbed in her abdomen since she doesn’t have her vest

lightly stabbed (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

WARNING: Descriptions of violence.

You’re itching to get out of here.

The entire team is crammed into yours and Aaron’s hotel room to work on the case. It’s quite a small town and the nearest police precinct is barely big enough to fit all its officers inside, let alone accommodate what the BAU needs.

There are papers everywhere and Derek definitely has his boots digging into your bed and none of you are getting close to cracking the case. They’ve been able to determine what the guy looks like, but not his name. There’s no record of him anywhere. It’s starting to give you a damn headache.

“I’m hungry,” you announce, breaking through the silence and rocking back and forth impatiently. “Is anyone else hungry?”

“I could go for some food,” JJ says.

“Yes, please,” Derek adds.

“I’ll go pick up something!” You say, snatching your chance and bolting to grab your coat.

“Where?” Spencer asks skeptically.

“I’ll find a place. Could use a drive to clear my head anyway,” you say, putting your coat on and planting a kiss on Aaron’s forehead. You grab one of the room keys before slipping out the door.

You’re going to your car in the hotel’s garage when you spot a man who looks eerily similar to the descriptions of the unsub. You shake your head, trying not to read into it too much. There’s nothing that proves a definite connection. You get into your car and pull out into the road, but find that the guy’s car is going in a similar direction.

Unable to help yourself, you keep on tailing the guy and you call Penelope up to ask if she has any information on the unsub’s vehicle.

And what she gives you is the exact description of the car you’re following.

“Penelope,” you say, doing your best to keep your tone even and in control. “I’m pretty sure I’m following the unsub right now. I can’t risk losing our one lead, so I’m gonna keep on following him. I need you to call Aaron and let him know.”

Albeit nervous, she does as you ask. Minutes later, your phone rings with your husband on the other line.

“I’m being safe,” you say as soon as you answer.

“Do you have the license plate number?” Hotch asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you have reason to believe that he’s going to hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“You have to wait for the rest of us or at least one of the cops,” Hotch says—pleads.

You bite your lip, seeing the unsub slow down upon approaching what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Classic hostage location. “There’s a girl missing, Aaron. I think I see him going into the place where he’s keeping her. I can’t wait,” you say.

There’s a beat. He knows you have a strong point.

“We’re close, Y/N,” Hotch assures you.

The image of the kidnapped girl flashes through your mind. “See you soon,” you say before hanging up the phone.

After the unsub gets out of his car and enters the warehouse, you go around to the back, finding a door there. You venture in slowly and quietly, finding the girl tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

After waiting for a few minutes and not seeing the guy anywhere, you walk towards the girl. “Hey, hey, I’m here to help. I’m an FBI agent-” you flash her your badge. “-my team is on their way, but let’s get you of here.”

“He’s gonna kill me,” the girl whispers once you’ve taken the tape off her mouth. You kneel down to untie her ankles.

“No, he won’t. I’m with you, okay?” You assured her, moving around to the back of the chair to untie her arms.

You’ve loosened the knot and almost got it completely undone when suddenly, you’re grabbed from behind. You go to elbow the guy in the face as he drags you backward, but he sinks his knife into your abdomen before you can.

It burns. It hurts.

Your body knows what’s just happened, but your brain is frozen. Your thoughts are going in slow motion as you struggle to comprehend. It’s only when the guy wrenches the knife out and you scream, vision swarming with the blood you see, that it occurs to you: you’ve been stabbed.

The guy tosses you to the floor and vaguely, you register the sound of the kidnapped girl crying. He steps over you and you use all your strength left to grab onto his ankle and yank, hard, pulling him to the ground. The knife clatters out of his grip.

“Bitch!” He yells, scrambling onto his knees and backhanding you across the face.

“PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

You’d know that roaring voice from anywhere — Aaron’s here with the team. You relax slightly, knowing that they’re going to handle this.

The guy turns around to face the full, angry force of the BAU.

“DO IT NOW!”

He complies and, the second Rossi leads him away in cuffs, Aaron and Derek are by your side while Emily and JJ go to help the girl.

“Someone get a gurney in here!” Derek calls out.

Aaron’s saying something about how you’re going to be fine and they’ll get you to the hospital, but you don’t catch all of his words. He’s stroking your face and you can see that while he’s trying to keep composure, he’s worried. He shrugs his jacket off and presses it down on your wound, making you whine at the pain.

“I’ve gotta stop the bleeding, honey,” he murmurs. You know this. He knows you know this. He has to say it for his own piece of mind, to make sure that you don’t think he’s just hurting you.

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” you mumble to him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy. Your hand twitches, aching for his touch.

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your skin and then kissing your forehead. “Shh, shh. None of that. I’m not mad. It’s-it’s only light,” he says.

You know it’s not, but his voice is comforting enough.

Derek’s talking to Aaron over your head. Something about how far out the ambulance is, you think. Comforted that your husband isn’t angry with you, your eyelids close now, and the darkness takes over.

//

The first thing you register when you wake up is beeping. Opening your eyes slowly, you blink a couple times, then see that you must be in a hospital room. The beeping comes from the monitors you’re hooked up to. There’s an IV in your arm, giving you fluids, and you can feel a bit of scratchiness from the hospital gown.

“Honey?”

Your husband’s warm voice fills your ears as he enters your line of sight. He stands up from his chair that’s been drawn up to your bedside, putting aside a newspaper that he was barely reading anyway.

“Hi,” you murmur, stretching your fingers for his hand which he happily supplies you with.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling widely. “You’re in the hospital, as I’m sure you can tell. You’re gonna be just fine but you have to stay here for observation for a little bit. I’ll be with you the whole time. The team’s also in the waiting room — Garcia has many balloons.”

This gets a smile out of you, too. You can just imagine the balloons getting into Derek’s face and how they squabble over it. “Mm. I seem to remember you telling me that my wound was only light, right?” You ask. It’s one of the few things you can recall from the ordeal.

“I was trying to soothe you,” he says, chuckling and squeezing your hand.

“I know,” you assure him, then you pat down on the space next to you. “Sit.”

“I’m not sure if I should—” Aaron says.

“Come here,” you insist, wanting to lie with him.

Unable to say no, he very carefully sits down next to you and wraps you up in his arms. You settle against his chest, finding it a far better pillow.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, wanting him to know it. “You told me to wait.”

“We can talk about that later, but I’m proud of you. You saved the girl’s life,” he says, kissing your forehead.

He really is the best husband ever. As long as he’s here, everything’s gonna be okay, you think.

[awearywritersworld]

"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine and Lemon learn more about the young woman they'd been hired to save and things become complicated. pt. 2 to Delicate

Genre: hurt and comfort

Warnings: protective!Tangerine, canon like violence, swearing, blood, guns, wounds, mentions of domestic violence/violence towards women, plot heavy

~ thank you @oh-starstarstar for giving me the inspiration to write this! It took a VERY different turn then what i originally intended but it's an interesting ride—hopefully! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Y/n. Tangerine mouths your name as he stares into the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush hanging from his lips. Y/n. The name suits you and warmth spreads inside his stomach as he spits into the sink and his mind is filled with memories of how sweetly you'd looked at him.

Fuck. 

"Oi," Lemon's hurried voice snaps him out of whatever was happening and Tangerine turns to him, leaning his hip against the counter. "Some weird fucker is on the phone," Lemon shows his brother his phone, an unknown number displayed clearly on the screen. "Says we have something of his."

Tangerine bristles and his jaw clenches involuntarily. He holds out his hand for Lemon to hand him the phone and when he does he puts it on speaker and holds it close to his ear, letting Lemon lean in and hear the conversation. 

"'Ello?"

"You have something of mine," a hoarse voice cuts the silence. The man behind the phone sounds older, like his voice has had time to become damaged from years of smoking, and he has a thick Irish accent.

"And what might that be?" Tangerine retorts, sending Lemon an unsure look but he keeps his tone steady.

"You have my wife."

Tangerine feels like all blood has been drained from his body and he's so close to losing it. His grip tightens on the phone as his eyes narrow.

"Fuckin' pardon me? Your wife?" he asks slowly, processing the words himself. Surely this man can't mean you.  

The man chuckles darkly. "Aye. You stole her. Took my girl. Wasted my fucking time. I want to know why?" 

Lemon looks at Tangerine, his eyes round with panic as he automatically crosses his arms. 

"I have no fuckin' clue what you're on about," Tangerine explains calmly, his voice strained. He grips the end of the counter with one hand, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He doesn't want to tell this rando he has you at home with him and Lemon. He doesn't trust this fucker.

The man laughs darkly. "Defiance isn't smart, boy," the man says vaguely, his tone the same as before; hard and rough. "I don't like smug fuckers who take my things. I want my wife returned to me."

Tangerine pauses as he waits for the word 'safely' or any indication that this man who claims to be your husband cares for you. None come and his frown deepens. "We don't have anyone with us," he lies easily. "Now, why don't ya fuckin' leave me–"

Another cruel laugh sounds from the phone. "You and your brother are really startin' to piss me off," the man pauses and then asks, "I shouldn't have to introduce myself, should I?"

Lemon and Tangerine's expression hardens when they hear a gunshot and then a muffled scream that's followed by a heavy, dramatic, sigh. "See, I really did like that bloke—good guy, loyal, had a family and shit—" Tangerine's jaw clenches as he realizes how truly fucked this man is. "Now, I don't like you—you don't really wanna find out what I'd do to you, do you?" he threatens. 

"Cut the bullshit," Tangerine snaps, "Who the fuck are ya?"

"Moore, Keiran Moore," the man introduces himself after a moment. Tangerine's skin pales slightly and he's almost too distracted by Lemon's curse-whispering and insistent punches into the air, to fully register what that means. You? Married to Keiran Moore? One of the more dangerous Irish crime lords in central London?

Tangerine has so many questions swarming around him but Kieran's voice interrupts his thoughts. "Tomorrow. 9am. I'll have my men send you the location. Cross me again and I'll make a fruit salad out of you both, you understand me?" he chuckles at his own shitty joke and then the line ends.

Lemon snatches the phone from Tangerine's hand.

"Irish mob?! Really?" he hisses. "I told ya we should'av brought her to the cops! She's fuckin' trouble and it's biting us back in the arse!" 

Tangerine narrows his eyes at his brother and drags a hand in his curls. "You believe him?"

"You don't?!" Lemon counters, sounding exasperated as he hits Tangerine on the back of the head. "Stop thinkin' with yer fuckin' dick and be smart. She's married. To some dangerous fucker!!" he scolds and Tangerine feels like this is karma for all the years he's been the one to scold Lemon for stupid shit. 

Still, he isn't convinced. 

"I didn't see a ring on her finger, Lemon."

"Ya, because the arseholes that kidnapped Kieran Moore's wife probably took her wedding ring, you wanker!!" Lemon throws his hand up in defeat and exhaustion, "I'm not havin' this conversation with you right now. Why don' ya ask her yourself, hm?" 

Tangerine looks down the hallway. "She's probably sleepin' by now," he starts, knowing damn well he needs to talk to you. He needs to understand more because he's so damn confused.

Lemon sends him an annoyed look that he understands immediately and he swallows. Lemon isn't in any clear state of mind to question you without freaking you out—plus Tangerine's specialty is nonchalance. He can handle this easily. 

His walk to the guest bedroom seems longer than usual as he plays every scenario in his head, his hand clenching and unclenching. He knocks on the door, hearing your small voice answer. It's late and he instantly feels like an arse when he opens the door and sees your figure sitting up in bed, reaching over and turning on the lamp on the nightstand as the curtains are drawn shut. You turn and stare at him.

"Hi, darlin'," he whispers calmly, approaching you. You send him a nod of permission before he sits next to you on your bed. You shift and Tangerine can clearly see that your eyes are red and tired from your lack of sleep and from crying. His heart breaks and he swallows down the irritating lump forming in his throat. 

"I have some questions, Y/n, and I'm gonna need ya to be honest with me, you think ya can do that?" he begins, his hand itching to touch your leg and reassure any nerves that may be arising but he holds himself back. He waits for a nod andthen he continues. "Do ya know some bloke named Keiran Moore?"

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he sees the change in your expression. You sink into yourself, hand clutching the sheets as your breathing becomes harsher again.

Tangerine's worry increases and he holds out his hands for you to show you he still doesn't mean you any harm. He understands this is a lot to take in. "Woah, hey, it's okay. Ya know him, don' ya?" 

You nod meekly and alarm bells ring in Tangerine's head.

Her husband my arse—he thinks. 

"I need ya to tell me everything now. I can't help ya if you aren't completely honest with me. I know it's scary but Lemon and I truly mean you no harm. Ya can trust us," Tangerine explains as relief washes over you when he sees you relax and focus on calming your breathing.

"O-okay," you say after a moment, your voice so soft and delicate that Tangerine feels all kinds of emotions stir inside him. He looks at you, his gaze reassuring so you can continue. He needs to know everything and he wants to know it from you. 

"My father, his name is—'' you tell Tangerine your father's name in a whisper and his eyes narrow. Everyone in his line of business knows that name, only he never knew someone so ruthless and supposedly cruel had a daughter. 

"He promised me to Mr. Moore—some business arrangement I'm not sure— and I'm supposed to marry him. It's all a blur. I just– I didn't tell you and your brother because I didn't want you to return me to Mr. Moore. He's a brute and he's mean a-and—I- I tried to run once and he beat me—and once we're married he'll want me to do things. Things I don't want to do with him," you finish your rambles, your voice low.

The words sink in and Tangerine's jaw clenches. He knows what you mean and the thought makes his stomach twist with disgust. He inhales, holding in his fury for your sake since he doesn't want to scare you any more than you already are. 

"What do ya mean ya ran? You were living with him when you were kidnapped?"

You frown now, staring at Tangerine with a sincerely confused expression. "Kidnapped? I wasn't kidnapped. I told you, Daddy sold me to him."

It's Tangerine's turn to frown. 

"What?" he pauses, "So, your fiancé isn't the one who paid us to save you from your kidnappers?"

"Paid you? Kidnappers?"

"That doesn't matter now, darlin', but you're telling me technically we are the ones who kidnapped you from your fiancé?!" 

You chew on your lip, thinking for a moment. "I suppose?" 

Tangerine pinches the bridge of his nose and then he looks up at you, his eyes raking over you. You look terrified and confused and he's also fucking confused. Still, he reaches forward and smoothes his hand down your cheek, hesitating but ultimately smiling as you, consciously or not, lean into the warmth of his hand. 

"Don't ya worry, luv, we'll keep ya away from him and your father. I promise you," he strokes his thumb across your skin in a gentle manner. Tangerine feels like he's been turned inside out. He's never been gentle with anyone—not even with Lemon and he loves Lemon. 

Once you've calmed down and he'd gotten all the information he needed, he shuts the door behind him and walks back into the living room. Lemon looks up at his brother, still looking freaked out by the entire situation. "She's not married," Tangerine huffs and sits next to his brother, rubbing his temples as his eyes shut. "It's fuckin' complicated–"

"So, what are we gonna do now? Ya still wanna keep 'er?"

Tangerine opens his eyes and rolls them as he drums his fingers on his knee for a moment.

"Yeah. I still wanna keep 'er," he looks at Lemon, scoffing at the way he'd said that, and then a dangerous glint in his eye appears, one that Lemon knows all too well, "and the plan is simple, Lem. We're gonna kill those bellends."

* * *

Tangerine's plan is anything but simple, especially because it involves you. Lemon told him this was fucked up and a mistake but he didn't care. His plan was the only way to kill that bastard. 

You were dressed in your clothes from that night with only Tangerine's suit jacket draped over your shoulders as you shiver. The air is still damp and cool from the morning fog.

Tangerine was on edge as he nervously tapped his shoe against the graveled ground, checking his phone occasionally. Kieran Moore had been thirty minutes late to his rendez-vous andTangerine had only hoped he wasn't smart enough to only send him men—because otherwise, his plan is really truly fucked—

"This is so fucked!" Lemon suddenly shouts, blood splatter covering his face as he shoots at the group of men that had finally arrived, sweat trailing down from his hairline. "You fuckin' owe me, you wanker!" he screams at his brother, annoyed by the situation as he turns his head to see Tangerine take on three of Moore's men. It isn't exactly easy, but he's taken on worse than them. 

"Shit! Lem! Where's the bastard?!" Tangerine counters angrily, slamming the bud of his gun into a man's throat. He spins around, seeing bodies and smelling smoke but Kieran is nowhere to be seen anymore. Tangerine's blood runs cold when he sees that you're also missing from behind his car.

Where he'd made you promise you would hide when shit went down!

How could he have lost you?!

Lemon senses his brother's distress and grunts, looking towards the beaten-down and abandoned apartment complex. "He must have taken 'er in there since we blew up his cars. Couldn't have gone far on foot with a screaming bird in his arms— oh you motherfuckers, did he fuckin' send a cavalry?!" Lemon shoots another one of Moore's men. 

Screaming? Had you screamed and he didn't hear you?

Tangerine manages to break into a run, his eyes round and wild as he steadies his breathing so he can focus on finding you. When he enters the apartment building, he rounds the stairs and leaps up them. From a distance and because of an echo, he hears a shrill scream and he picks up his pace, spitting out blood from his mouth from a few hits he'd taken. 

"Shut up, ya stupid bitch!" Keiran's voice booms as he all but drags you up the stairs. The older man has a cigarette hung between his lips, cockily smirking as his hands gripping your arm as you kick and scream.

"Your fuckin' new boyfriends didn't think this through huh? Too busy with my men to realize I gotcha now?! You cheating whore— I'll have to beat some manners into ya again, huh? Huh?!" he snarls and smacks you across the cheek, causing another cry to tear from your throat.

Tangerine can see that your lip is bleeding. You look hurt and betrayed. He feels sick. Without thinking, he raises his gun and with a shaky exhale but a steady hand he pulls the trigger, hitting Kieran Moore through the head and killing him instantly. The man falls down the stairs, causing you to gasp. Your eyes follow him as he falls to Tangerine's feet at the bottom of the stairs. 

Tangerine wastes no time scrambling to where you are, guilt eating at him as he drops to his knees and without thinking, pulls you into his arms. His hold on you is hard and he's afraid he'll crush you so he loosens his hold.

However, you lean up, resting on your knees, as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him closer. You're shaking in his arms and his heart breaks when he hears you sniffle into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, stroking a hand in your hair. "I shouldn't 'ave brought you here. I shouldn't 'ave taken my eyes off him or ya for even a moment! I should'ave known this was too dangerous for ya. I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

You hold him tighter, your mind racing and his words reach your ears but you don't comprehend them. "Is he dead? Tell me he's dead, Tangerine. Promise me he's gone," you say, pulling him close as if you want to mold your body against his.

"He's dead. He can't hurt ya anymore," he whispers, kissing your forehead as he holds you. He presses another quick kiss to your hairline and then stands, pulling you up with him. "Now, I want ya to stay right here. I need to help Lem finish off those fuckers and then I'll come for ya. Promise. Stay here and be quiet. This shouldn't take long."

And he's right, it didn't take long because soon you're back at their car, sitting on the hood as Tangerine looks at the handprint on your cheek.

Lemon is hunched over against the car, muttering curses as he bandages his hand. You clench your hand between your knees nervously, your eyes focusing on Tangerine's eyes as his thumb brushes away some of your hair and not the countless dead bodies all around the outside of the apartment complex. 

Lemon grunts, standing up straighter. His gaze suddenly lands on you and when it does, his eyes soften. As pissed as he was with the entire situation, he is happy you're safe. He sends you a weak smile. He walks over and pats your knee reassuringly. "'M glad you're okay, Percy," he teases, the nickname making you smile.

"We should go," Lemon tells his brother, rolling up his sleeves as he looks around. "Don't want some good for nothin' pricks callin' the coppers on us." Tangerine nods and helps you down the hood, still holding a hand on your waist. The hand on your waist tightens when three cars suddenly pull up next to theirs, the tires screeching on the pavement. 

Without hesitation, Tangerine pushes you behind him and keeps an arm around you. "It's okay," he whispers gruffly, "I won't let them hurt you."

You frown, pushing on his arm and you take a step forward as men exit the cars, including one you know very well andyour heart sinks. "Daddy?" you whisper, your eyes widened and you pause, shrinking back behind Tangerine when you remember how much pain your father was responsible for.

Your dad walks out, raising his arms in surrender to show Tangerine and Lemon that he's not a threat to them. A bunch of his men, men you know, start to clean up the bloody mess. Lemon and Tangerine look confused and on guard when another man comes out with a silver case. 

"Steady, gentlemen," your dad says calmly as he looks you over and then tilts his head as an indicator for the man with the case to come forward and open it, revealing a bunch of money. "Your reward, hm? I promised you some money, didn't I?"

Lemon's mouth hangs open and Tangerine stares at the case, his arm still around you as he keeps you shielded behind him. "Pardon me?!" he spits and looks at the money, "what's that for?"

You stare at your father, catching on quicker to his games than the Twins. "You paid them to rescue me," you say, raising your arm and clutching Tangerine's sleeve. It doesn't make sense to you. Your father was the one who'd given you up to Kieran Moore so he could save his business. Why did he hire Lemon and Tangerine to save you then?

"I did," your dad says and he sighs, explaining himself. "You think I wanted you in the hands of that bastard? Kieran Moore has been a thorn in my side for decades. I didn't have a choice in the matter, he was blackmailing me and the entire organization. Our organization. The family organization! So, I did let him take you for a while and I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. But, Y/n/n, I couldn't let him keep you and I knew if anyone could keep you safe without raising suspicions, it was them." He gestures to Tangerine and Lemon. "And they did. Now, they have their money and you can come home now, pumpkin."  

You stare at your father's extended arms and your hand tightens around Tangerine's sleeve. You shake your head, eyes narrowed. "No. I want to stay with them," you say. After all, you're an adult who can make her own decisions. 

Tangerine's heart leaps when he hears you say that and he has to force down a smug smile. You want to stay with him and Lemon. Lemon looks less smug as he crosses his arms and looks around at your father's men cleaning up the mess they'd made of Kieran Moore's men. 

"Sweetness, these gentlemen want their money and if you don't come home with me, I can't pay them. Wouldn't be fair now would it?" Your father sounds stern and also confused by the turn of events. 

"We don' need your money," Tangerine admits quickly, keeping you close to him. "You didn't even show up to claim 'er!"

Your father pinches his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. "It was complicated. I couldn't pick her up then but I wasn't worried. I knew you wouldn't harm her. Listen, I can't just allow you to take my daughter—" 

Lemon interrupts him, "We just dealt with your lil' rivalry problem, huh, mate. Call it even?" he turns to look at you and how hard you're gripping Tangerine's sleeve. Lemon wasn't initially on board with this whole keeping-you-with-them-plan but when his gaze travels to his brother's expression, he chuckles and turns back to your father.

"Ya really think he'd hurt your daughter? Ya had no problem with someone who ya knew was gonna harm her taking 'er but this is too much?" 

"I want to stay," you repeat, your tone much firmer this time. "I'm not leaving with you."

Your father seems stumped for a moment but his shoulder sags and he glances around at his men. Lemon has a point, his problem has been mostly solved now or at least solved enough that he can easily take over from here.

He looks at you and inevitably the way you're still clinging to Tangerine and how he's standing next to you, his stance protective. Your father sighs. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he tried to force you to come home with him now.

So he doesn't and you find yourself back at the Twin's house, sitting on the sink in their bathroom, letting Tangerine press a cotton ball full of some homemade disinfectant to your split lip.

You look up at him. It feels wrong being the one he's caring for when he's very clearly more injured than you are.

"You should take a shower, darlin'," he whispers, bending down and throwing away the blood-stained cotton ball into the trash. He straightens up and rests his hand against your cheek as he runs his thumb around the bruise on your cheek, his thumb barely applying any pressure.

"Can I help clean you up?" you ask. You're starting to become more comfortable around him and it makes his heart flutter.  

Tangerine smiles and chuckles. "Nah. I'm okay. Promise. You should relax in a warm shower. You've been through a lot."

"So have you," you say and press your thumb next to a particularly gruesome-looking wound on his forehead. 

He flinches but gently lowers your wrist and holds your hand in his. "I'm used to this. Ya don't need to worry for me, luv." Tangerine looks at you with such care, that you can't help but mirror his expression. You lean up, bringing your hands up to his cheeks, and without a chance to question your actions, you lightly kiss his lips.

You pull away almost instantly, cringing at the sharp pain in your newly wounded lip from the pressure. Tangerine can taste the saltiness from your lips onto his but that's the least of his worries as his eyes widen and he holds your hips steady on the sink, looking you over as he's speechless from your kiss. "Ow," you mutter and touch your lip, "too soon," you joke with a small smile.

"What was that for?" Tangerine asks breathlessly, his focus still on the fact that you'd kissed him. Actually kissed him. 

You smile. "Just a small thank you. For saving me and for letting me stay with you and your brother—keeping me safe and all." You press your palm on his chest, looking up at him. "There's more where those came from after you let me clean you up," you tease in a tone Tangerine hadn't heard from you previously. You sound lighter, not at all afraid or nervous. He really likes this side of you. his lips curl into a smirk as he reaches over the sink and hands you a fresh cotton ball, his hand curling on top of yours as you clutch it. 

"Careful with me, darlin'," he returns the tease and presses a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

You laugh—that sound he loves so so much and he hopes with everything he has that he can hear that sound until the day he dies. 

He's never ever leaving your side again. 

[fandomlit]

reunited (sirius black x reader)

summary after a year free from azkaban, sirius is dying to leave number twelve grimmauld place. but after a year of also craving to see you, one of his wishes is met.

warnings mentions of loneliness and depression

a/n if you couldn't tell i'm on a harry potter kick rn (requests please!!!)

gif cred belongs to @peaceseller

sirius was losing his mind sitting around headquarters. with little to do other than to stare at his family's old possessions and vanquish bitter creatures (and kreatcher), he was beginning to harbor a feeling similar to his time in azkaban--not nearly as hopeless, but just as desperately bored.

he heard the door open from the armchair he had been lounging in and a voice gasp, "professor l/n!" before the screeches of his mother filled the hall. he jumped to his feet--not due to the screams, he was truly becoming used to that--but at the sound of your name.

someone managed to close the curtains around his mother's portrait as he practically ran down the stairs. the last time he had glimpsed you had been too brief, not even being able to show you that he was there in his disguised animagus form. when dumbledore told him he had recruited you, sirius was less than surprised, but desperate for the day you would finally drop by headquarters. when after fourteen long years, he would get to speak to you. and, as he reached the last step, you were finally here.

"old bat never liked me," you were chuckling, shaking your head at harry, ron, and hermione as you faced the drawn curtains. "screamed very similar to that in person, as well." ron spoke something to you just as your gaze landed on sirius, who was still clutching the banister with his mouth slightly agape.

you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. your face was more mature than he had last seen and you were an inch or two taller, but you still had that bright glint in your eyes, like you were always on the verge of a joke, and a confidence in your stance that no one he had ever met managed to compare to.

he was muttering your name before he even realized it. he was acutely aware of the trio flipping their gazes between the two of you.

you smiled fondly at him. "sirius black, you finally grew out your hair!"

he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he opened his arms, walking toward you quicker than he would have cared for you to acknowledge. luckily, you met him halfway and let his arms squeeze you tightly to him. he let out an unconscious laugh.

"holy merlin, i never thought i'd ever touch you again," he confessed before realizing how odd it sounded. but you only responded with a laugh of your own.

"me neither," you confessed, drawing black slightly to see his grinning face. "but lord am i glad you're not the murderer the world was tricked to think." his smile dimmed in the slightest, but even those difficult thoughts couldn't weigh his heart down. you were actually here. "how's the old house treating you?"

he raised his eyebrows at you. "really? just going to keep bringing up the worst things of my day-to-day?"

you let out a laugh that he couldn't help but grin at. "i'm sorry, i am." you smiled fondly again as you two drew completely apart, but sirius kept your hand clamped in his and you squeezed it to show you didn't mind it. you shook your head at him. "godric, you look good! for a convict and blood traitor, you look like a dream, sirius!"

he let out a loud laugh this time, glimpsing the trio all trading glances behind you two. "you should see yourself! hogwarts has been kind to you, my dear." you let out a surprised sound at the old nickname. "you haven't changed an ounce, y/n. you're the same woman i dreamed of on my worst nights."

he took pride in the pink that crept up your neck. "you're a slightly aged version of the man i couldn't keep out of my dreams," you admitted. sirius smiled. "no matter what they said about you sirius.. my mind could never let you go."

he pressed your locked hands to his heart, soft gaze holding yours in what he hoped didn't look at all like the desperation he felt. "now it never has to." you pulled him into a wordless hug before he slipped his arm around your shoulders and lead you toward the kitchen.

sirius knew that later, away from the eyes of the curious teenagers of the house, you two would share a heavy hearted moment. one where he wouldn't be able to deny himself the exhaustion of his hardships in your presence, which has always been able to get past his tough, playful facade. but for now, the way you smiled and joked and radiated in his presence gripped his heart in a way that wasn't at all like he had felt in years.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Seventeen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, depictions of violence, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex f receiving, some good ole p in v

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I’m baaack (for now). My plan for this part was for Feyd and reader to fight/argue more but I love them too much and I just couldn’t do it

It takes a tremendous effort not to look at Feyd. You can only imagine the expression on his face, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes. Even the image in your head is enough to plant a seed of despair, spiraling through you like crushing vines.

“What baby?” Feyd asks again. His voice has taken on a steely undertone, perceptible only to you. You’ve heard a plethora of emotions running like currents in his voice, disguised by years of training and practice, but this one guts you the most. There’s a single layer of vulnerability.

Of questioning hurt.

You inhale and force yourself to say, “Our baby.”

There’s no way to know how he will react. You’ve seen every side of him — the lover, the monster, the soldier — and you’ve examined each with a careful eye, peering into the mouth of his being and inspecting its teeth. But no amount of familiarity can prepare you for his calloused hand encircling your wrist and tugging you to face him.

“Say it again.”

Tears burn your eyes. “Our baby.” And suddenly it comes tumbling out, all of it. “I’m pregnant. I haven’t known long. I-I was going to tell you after you healed because I knew you would fret over me. You have to understand.”

Your explanation hastens as he stares back at you blankly. You would’ve preferred him to lash out at you, hit you, call you any number of insufferable names. But this…

“You didn’t tell me,” he says. He’s mastered his voice enough that it feels like the prick of a blade under your ribs, waiting to push in.

“You couldn’t afford to think about me,” you tell him, “you needed to focus on your health.”

There’s a flicker there, in his expression. “It is not solely your decision to make. The child is both of ours. You should’ve told me.”

“Feyd —”

“Enough.” Feyd releases his grip. “I’ve heard enough.

“Feyd, please —”

His jaw feathers with suppressed emotion. Feyd whirls on the heel of his boot and storms off, leaving a wake of silence. You watch his retreating form, sorrow clenching in your chest like a fist. Only once he’s disappeared around the corner and you’re sure he won’t return, do you lash around to confront Chani.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” A lazy smile unfurls on her face. “I assumed you told him already.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again?” Chani asks.

No one dares stop you as you dress for battle in your stillsuit. Chani better pray to her gods that you don’t find her alone in the battle field, you can’t promise not to take out your anger. The public argument between you two simmers as the group gathers, reviewing the attack. A familiar movement in the corner of your eye distracts you, and surprise grips you in response.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, ashamed to admit how relieved you felt, however fleeting.

“Did you think I’d let you go out alone?”

Feyd avoids your gaze, keeps his own focused on Stilgar as the bearded man explains his plan. Your husband is so heartbreakingly beautiful. You commit his profile to memory, the essence of him — wrath and death, the god of war, but also the softer side of him that only you’ve seen. Before, on Giedi Prime, you didn’t know the pain of losing him, of seeing him bleeding out in the sands of Arrakis.

The memory flashes in your mind. The level of desperation in your voice is frankly pathetic, but you wouldn’t allow it for anyone else. “You have to forgive me, Feyd. I thought —”

“Save it.” His gaze slides, finally, to you. You might imagine the softness that forms there when he looks at you. “We’ll talk later.”

Your legs are cramping. You’ve laid on this fucking sand dune for what seems like a small eternity now, covered in a mesh blanket to disguise yourself. Feyd rests next to you. The Fremen are buried in the sand for ambush. You don’t know why you would want to help the Harkonnen, but they were insistent upon you being removed from the initial attack.

Your decision to move your leg is forgotten at the droll sound of a ship in the distance, a dark shape in the sky that grows exponentially larger. Feyd stiffens next to you.

“Rabban might be on that ship,” you say as loud as you dare.

Feyd’s mouth forms a firm line. “I hope he is.”

It strikes you that you’re quite grateful to be on the side of the Fremen as they launch their ambush, bodies upon bodies emerging from the sands like desert wraiths and immediately killing every foot soldier. You and Feyd launch from your hiding spot once the ship opens fire — Feyd to join the fighting on the ground, you aiming the blasgun given to you. You follow him with your eyes as he moves through the bloodshed like it’s a well-choreographed dance, both graceful and gruesome, his blades glinting.

Shot after shot you take out as many Harkonnens as you can, trying not to think about how you might know them. You focus, instead, on the fact that they would do anything to erase the life growing inside your womb, the promise of unity.

The Messiah.

From your vantage point the ambush looks to be waning when a figure disembarks from the ship. The last time you saw him, you’d tried to kill him.

The feeling hadn’t gone away.

Feyd kicks in the knee of a fellow Harkonnen, who drops to the ground. In a fluid movement he removes the helmet and slits their throat, then regards his brother. There’s no doubting that Rabban recognizes his brother, even in a stillsuit, recognizes the man he trained and fought with.

Every instinct in you is yelling at you to tumble down the dune to join the fight, but the rumble of a sandworm hums beneath your feet and you know that you don’t have time. Already the Fremen are retreating. Almost all of the Harkonnen soldiers have been cut down except for the spare few who stayed behind with Rabban. The ship whirs to life. You can’t tell if the brothers exchange any words before the ship lifts back into the air and Feyd is clamoring back to you, his face paler than normal beneath his protective helmet.

You know not to question him about it until later but when you return to the sietch, the ambush team rejoices in their triumph. You’re jostled back and forth and away from Feyd. “The Messiah paved our way to victory!” Stilgar exclaimes, dirt and blood smearing his face.

A roar of approval echoes him and you smile weakly at the Fremen patting you on the back and reaching out to touch your abdomen. An actual growl over your shoulder wards them off, though, Feyd appearing in your peripheral.

“Y/N!” Jessica emerges from the festivities, expression concerned. “Are you alright?” Her attention drops to your stomach.

Irritation has you grinding your molars together as you bite out, “I’m fine.”

“Where were you?” Feyd levels this question to your mother.

Jessica says, “I was doing my duty. Here.”

“You say you have the interest of the Fremen at heart but you make yourself conveniently scarce whenever the opportunity arises to prove it.”

You suppress a smirk. While healing, he missed most of your mother’s Bene Gesserit propaganda. It pleases you that he sees through her bullshit right off the bat. Even if he doesn’t completely understand it, or your participation in it, Feyd knows that Jessica is not as genuine as she says.

“Do you doubt me?” She asks him.

Feyd’s silence is response enough. A flicker of irritation crosses Jessica’s face.

“You need to speak to them,” she says to you, “tell them that you foresaw this victory. That with our help, with the support of the Messiah, they will succeed in this war. That today is just a taste.”

Feyd cuts his gaze to you. Well, he knows your participation now.

“No,” you tell her.

Jessica has the good sense to look taken aback. “No?”

“I am tired. And I wish to reunite with my husband. You speak to them.” You grab Feyd’s hand despite knowing that the contact is unwanted, dragging him away from the crowd and your mother’s palpable anger. For your sake he clings to you until you’re out of sight, then wrenches his hand away.

“I have not forgotten what you done,” he snarls.

You double check to ensure that no one is around to overhear what undoubtedly will become an argument. “I know.”

Soft to his unyielding fury.

“Tell me everything.”

Unable to look at him, you find a spot on the wall past him, regret burrowing into your heart. “I-I’ve known for roughly three months now. I didn’t know if he would survive the crash.”

“He?” A single word.

“Yes.” For the first time in his presence, you let your fingers drift to your abdomen. Feyd’s hands twitch but otherwise he’s motionless. “It’s…a boy. He’s strong. I can feel it.”

Feyd wavers slightly, the news leeching from the reservoir of his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, I knew you would never give yourself the time to heal if you knew.”

“It’s my duty to protect you. My privilege. And all this time, not knowing—” Feyd cuts off abruptly, a spasm of pain crossing his expression. “I thought we told each other everything. No more games.”

Your heart pangs. “I wasn’t playing a game, Feyd. I wanted to protect you. I had to watch you nearly die in front of me. I can’t lose you.” You blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that spring to your eyes, the emotions thick in your throat. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Nothing you do can make me hate you,” Feyd murmurs after a heartbeat. He steps closer, his thumb swiping over your cheeks, your tears. He seems to be wrestling for what to say next and finally whispers, “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” you say, laughing, nearly delirious.

A moment passes in which he stares at you in disbelief, before he loops his arms around your waist and picks you up off your feet. A smile graces your face, buried in his neck, as he whirls you in a circle and sets you back down with a rarely-heard laugh — clear and deep.

“A son,” he breathes. Realization encroaches his delight. “What does this mean? For us? For…him?”

Sorrow eclipses your own happiness, however brief. You keep it close to your heart, a memory for later, when it will be scarce. “The Fremen have been condition by the Bene Gesserit to believe our child is their Messiah.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Yes.” You cringe. “And no.”

“Explain.”

“As you know, we’ve been bred for generations to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But according to the Fremen, to what the Bene Gesserits said, the mother must also be Bene Gesserit. And I am…not.”

“But they believe you are.”

Guilt punctures you like a blade to your lung, slipping between your ribs and expelling all of your breath. “Yes, they do. It’s all by my mother’s design. She wants the control.”

Feyd’s brow furrows. “Against my family?”

“The person in control of Arrakis is in control of the whole universe,” you say, “she wants to orchestrate everything from behind the scenes.”

To say it out loud devastates you, how you and Feyd have been only pawns in a scheme much larger than the both of you. And now your child.

Power drove your family apart.

“What do we do?” Feyd asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly.

Feyd’s attention drifts to where the sietch is still celebrating their victory. “These people have been oppressed for too long. We can’t allow it to continue.”

“We need their allegiance, though,” you tell him. “We won’t win this war without them.”

“Wouldn’t we just be falling right into the Bene Gesserits hands? Lending ourselves and our son to them? Enslaving them?”

“I want justice for them as much as you.”

The slightest of exhales from Feyd. “What’s your plan?” When you look away without a reply, he reaches out to take your hand. “We’ll figure it out. But we don’t have much time.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to face your mother, wreathed in yellow fabric. The intensity of her blue-on-blue eyes is frightening. You haven’t dared to look into any reflective surface to see if yours possesses the same hue but, judging by the tint in Feyd’s, you probably look the same.

A visible sign of the way your life has transitioned.

“We aren’t done,” you say to her flatly.

“It can wait.”

Feyd bristles. “She said we weren’t done.”

Jessica lazily assess your husband. It incites a flare of anger in you; no one has ever looked at Feyd-Rautha before with such indifference. He simply did not command it. Out of the corner of your eye you peek at him. Shutters have drawn down on his face, making him entirely unreadable. The slightest of muscles jumping under his eye tells you of the turmoil beneath the surface of his composure.

“You think you own her?” Jessica asks. “Just because you’re wed? Need I remind you that it was by my design.”

Feyd snarls, “No one owns her.”

“You belong to centuries of Bene Gesserit design,” your mother reminds you, “this is your destiny.”

“It’s the destiny that you’ve manipulated,” you snap back. “What will they do when they find out that I’m not a witch? That everything is a lie?”

“It’s not my fault that you failed to live up to your potential,” Jessica shot back.

It hits you like a slap to the face.

“I suggest that you take your leave,” Feyd says into the stunned silence. He steps forward, half shielding you with his body.

Jessica’s upper lip curls. “The failed heir to the Baroncy. A weapon, but nothing more. Except perhaps a sire. Congratulations.”

“Enticing us into an argument isn’t going to make us give in to your demands,” you say. “I refuse to take part in your indoctrination anymore.”

“Fine. Tell them it’s a lie. They’ll kill you before you can say another word.”

Feyd curses under his breath. You both know that she’s right, that the link of your son is the only thing keeping you alive. It’s a tremulous relationship between you and the Fremen, one that not even the victory today could completely reconcile. You hate that Jessica still has such a firm hold over you. Over Feyd. Your son.

At your sides, your hands tremble with suppressed rage. “This isn’t over.”

“Isn’t it?” Jessica’s lips curl into a smile.

You lay side by side later that night, mulling over the events that had unfolded. The darkness obscures your husband but his presence beside you is solid, unyielding. Safe.

“He saw me today. Rabban.”

“Do you think they’ll come for you?” You ask.

His silence stretches on for quite some time before he answers. “Perhaps. I’m not sure whether I want them to or not. Probably not.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Surely they thought that you — we — died in the crash.”

“That’s just it,” Feyd says, “Rabban undoubtedly reported our deaths and, by admitting he’s wrong, will suffer for it. I suspect that he’s fuming right now actually.”

“Hopefully long enough for us to figure out our next step,” you murmur in reply.

The cot that you both have squeezed onto rustles as Feyd turns on his side. You can just barely make out his face, the shape of his shoulder. His hand moves to your abdomen, where it hovers before finally landing. His palm is warm on your skin, alighting a fire inside of you. No matter how many times you touch your entire being reacts to him, surging up to meet him. And there, as weak as a fluttering pulse, your baby, too small for Feyd to notice rejoicing in his closeness.

“Our next step is just to take them one at a time.” His eyes glisten in the darkness. “I do not want to miss out on these moments because I am worried about a future that is not promised.”

Feyd dips down, presses a kiss to your navel. You can’t help but sigh in response, hips rising, eager to feel his lips elsewhere. He chuckles, deep and rumbling, fingers dancing over the waistband of your pants. “We have conceived a child. Some would argue that our obligation to one another is finished.”

“And what would you argue?”

He pretends to pause, to consider this. “I would tell them that I must be cold in the ground to miss an opportunity to fuck my wife.”

A laugh escapes you as he masterfully removes the barrier of cloth between you, relying on touch to guide him down your body. Hips still wriggling, Feyd quells your impatience with his tongue. He slides through your folds like he’s savoring the experience, like he might never taste you again, tracing over your entrance but denying you the admittance. You buck up in frustration.

“Patience, jewel,” he murmurs against you, “I want to relish touching my pregnant wife for the first time.”

Your cunt clenches at this. You’re forced to squeeze your eyes, as the sight of him between your legs is almost too much to bear. Your whole life you have been chasing home and now, here, you have found it in him, in his ruinous touch. You were his, marked before by the band on your finger and now the child in your womb, not a sign of ownership but belonging.

“Such a good, perfect wife,” he says as he pleases you, a mixture of his fingers and his mouth. “Taking my seed so well and giving me a son. I cannot wait to see you grow with him in your belly, my child. Our child.”

He withdraws long enough to stroke himself, clearly aroused at the thought. Your thighs press together, slicked by his mouth and your own arousal, but Feyd pushes them apart with one hand while pumping himself with the other. In a single, fluid movement, he then pushes his cock into you with decisive force. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out as he fills you completely, stretching your walls.

Feyd draws back and thrusts into you, over and over, building in ferocity. You bury your fingers into the cot to anchor yourself. Stars burst across your vision.

He speaks through each panted breath as if he might perish if he does not say the words. “I have given my heart to you, my soul, and in return you have given yourself to me. To my son.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Feyd presses his body to yours as he drives into you, holding you close. “You have given me the ultimate gift.”

Tears splatter on your chest. You realize with a lurching heart that he is crying, overcome with his emotions. You hold on to him just as tightly — there are no words fitting for this confession. Instead you pour yourself into him, into the push and pull of your bodies. And when you come together, crashing into your release, there is no distinction between you or him; you are only one. One breathing, pulsing being, utterly entwined.

Afterwards, when you have kissed the tears off his cheeks and he’s thoroughly cleaned you, Feyd curls up beside your abdomen. Adrift in your post-orgasm bliss, you’ve nearly succumbed to sleep when he says:

“I see him.”

Drowsy, you ask, “Who?”

“Our son.” This piques your interest, leading you to squint into the dark at him. Feyd, sensing your confusion, elaborates, “I see him in my dreams. Nightmares. I didn’t understand at first but now I know that it’s him.”

“Really?” Your voice is soft.

Feyd nods. His finger trails up the curve of your belly, not quite shaped by your pregnancy. “He looks like you and I’m so…I’m so proud of him.” There’s an edge of sadness in his voice now. “Even though, in my nightmares, he —”

You wait for him to continue but he does not. Feyd shudders against you, wrought with whatever pain the poison-induced dreams leave.

Feyd finally whispers, “Do you think we can change our fate? What’s been laid out for us?”

“I like to think so,” you say with honesty. Every instinct in you is raging at whatever has unraveled your husband so, but you know that the matter must be delicate. You don’t want to press.

“But what if we can’t?”

You ghost your fingers over his head, desperate to comfort him. The words unnerve you but you don’t dare let him know that you’re frightened by the same thing.

“I will love you until the very end of it,” you breathe, “that is all I can say for sure.”

Feyd replies, full of fear and regret, “I know.”

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy

[selyeji]

lilac wine

jude bellingham x reader

summary : drinking much more you ought to drink brings you to him.

warnings : alcohol

as the yellow light stretches illuminating through the bar, jazz music spilled out your ears. you lay your head on your arm as your vision starts to blur, your index finger circling the half empty glass of alcohol.

you were never a heavy drinker, but you were finding something, anything, to fill that gap of emptiness within you. with insomnia, nothing is real to you. everyday was cycle, wake up, work, go home, sleep, repeat.

you pulled out your phone, opening your contacts to click on judes number. your thumb hovering around the screen, thinking whether to call him in this late hour. still hypnotized with the taste of alcohol, you risked it and called him. bringing your phone to your ear, waiting for the ringing to be answered. jude was a close friend of yours, someone you could talk to for hours. what he didn’t know was your feelings for him. you denied it to your very core. he’s an athlete while you’re just a regular person, why would he ever want a relationship with you?

your thoughts were interrupted by his voice. “hello? y/n?” in a raspy voice. “judeee can you pick me up? please?” in a playful tone, clearly tipsy. “where are you? you out drinking again? did something happen-” he kept asking, making your headache throb. “just please- i’ll just send my location yeah?” you interrupt him, ending the call before the ache got worse.

a few minutes passed, your eyes slowly close, eyelids felt heavy until someone opened the doors and called out your name. “y/n wake up, you shouldn’t be here.” jude said, covering your shoulders with his jacket. quietly standing up from the stool, he held your waist firmly making sure you won’t fall.

you both walk outside, meeting the rain. jude still held your body to keep balance, moving from the waist to your heavy shoulders. jude opens the door his passenger seat, letting you enter. you buckle your seatbelt, staring out the window. letting the low sound of music in judes car play throughout the ride, ignoring the silence. watching the raindrops race one another on the window.

arriving at judes house, you enter and immediately plopped yourself on the couch. he closed the doors behind him, going to the kitchen getting something for you to drink. you stare at him, admiring his features. he wasn’t just handsome or good looking, there was more to that but you could never find the right words. the ache in your head moves to your heart. you felt too much for your own good, even your own heart couldn’t handle it. you snap back to reality as jude places his hand on your head and neck, trying to check a sign of fever.

you grabbed his wrist, making him immediately look into your eyes. his big brown eyes reflecting yours, you could stare into forever. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his brows showing his worries. you knew if you could say your true feelings, the aching to recover will be gone. its either that or to lose another close friend, pushing them away. you had no other choice.

“jude.” you said, your voice almost breaking. “yeah?” “i love you.” you responded in a quiet but soft voice, you couldn’t bear holding the eye contact any longer. staring at the ceiling, he was at the corner of your eye. silently staring back, mouth a bit open from shock. “you should sleep, the alcohol in your system is still-“ jude says but you interrupted him.

“im not drunk jude. you caused an heartache from the moment i met you. i mean it.” sighing, thinking he doesn’t feel the same. as long as you released the words begging to be let out. you slowly got up, until jude held your cheek softly. before you could even process anything, his lips touch yours. closing your eyes, embracing the kiss. your face heats up, you were kissing jude. the jude bellingham. someone you doubted your love for the longest.

your lips part, staring at each other. “don’t kiss just to console for my feelings.” he held both of your hands between his. “that kiss was made out of desire y/n.” his tone was sincere, but you held your doubts close to your chest. afraid your depth of love will be the same depth of your wound. “but why me? you could have anyone in the world with a beauty like yours.” you said, tears could be seen gather to your eyes. “i saw you with my heart, not my eyes. i love you y/n.” jude said before crashing his lips onto yours once again. you give in, hugging his larger frame.

you are his, he’s yours. your body relaxes, that ache turns into pleasure. it felt like you could stay in that position till the end of time, intertwined to each other. showing affection, no amount of words could express this. as your lips separate, forehead leaning to each other, sharing your bodies warmth with each other in the cold trickling rain.

you both cuddle on the couch, resting your head on the crook of his neck as he lays below you. legs intertwined with each other, comfortably talking to each other, caressing each others back from time to time. “it’s getting late, i should go home now.” you got up on your fours until jude pulled your body back down. “stay. pleasee baby.” he begged, using his infamous puppy eyes. you couldn’t resist to that, it would feel like ignoring a stray puppy down the street, you smile before laying back down. “y’know we should move to the bed instead.” you mumble out, tired from the cramped space but you didn’t mind being close to him. “great idea” jude said, getting up while carrying you, your legs around his waist. hugging your arms around his neck.

entering his room, he threw himself and you onto the bed. squeezing you, leaving no space between your bodies. jude peppered your face with kisses before moving next to you. keeping his arm above your waist, finding a place on your neck for his nose to rest. breathing became synchronized, your eyelids slowly close, the weight of your shoulders gone. finally being able to sleep after weeks. jude cleared out every problem, he found a home in your heart.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : second fic 💯💯 send in requests PLEASEEEGHH 😭🙏🙏

[kiri-tatsu]

All brats will be tamed

you just couldn't listen to your boyfriend when he said he'll be out of his office in another hour. you entered and came to make him lose focus; trying to kiss up on him, touch him, and make him pay attention to you. he had enough and gave you what you wanted, but still for being such a brat you have to be punished for trying to distract him.

tw/cw- spanking, face fucking, deepthroating, dacryphilia, mean dom! various, not proofread

nsfw below the cut, 18+, MDNI

How did you get here? Draped over your lovers leg like a rag doll? Your lower half bare, your eyes full of tears, and your ass was hurting.

"When I saw you walk into my office," he began as he rubbed his large hand over the hotness of your ass. Burning from the amount of smacks you had endured, your cheeks ablaze, your lips swollen, and tears cascading down from your eyes. "I just had a feeling you were going to distract me from my work."

His hand light caressed your ass that was still burning to the touch, "And you just didn't want to listen to me no matter how many times I told you to sit and let me work," his hand raise before coming down to slap the stinging skin, allowing a light sob leave your mouth at the feeling. "Now, what is the number we are on [name]?"

Your mind was hazy, as you felt him rubbing the sore spot before he tapped it lightly, "If you don't answer, you're going to get five more added on to the count." You began to babble about how you lots count making him inhale sharply before a rather harsh smack was landed on your ass making you cry out in pain.

"And here I thought you would be a good little slut and keep track. You were doing so well too... What a shame, I guess you won't be finishing until much later, now," he moved you to sit upright on his lap, his eyes shining in disappointment and lust.

"Now on your knees, if you do well, then I'll award you, understood?" You nodded slowly as you slipped from his lap. He heaved a heavy sigh as he pulled his cock from his pants and guided your head to it. His tip poking at your swollen lips as he hummed lightly, "Now, only just the tip, if you do well enough and make me feel good, then and only then, you will be rewarded with more of me. Understood [name]?"

You didn't have time to nod or even say a simple 'yes', he took the little opportunity to shove the tip of his cock into you mouth. It took you by surprise, but a hand on the top of you head made you realize what you have to do for him.

By your light sucking on his tip and swirling your tongue he let out little hums of pleasure as he abruptly bucked his hips up. The shock on your face make him chuckle before he let his hand rest on top of your head before pushing you further down. "There there, you took it well so many other times before."

Without any other choice you were forced to take his dick down your throat, his eyes sharply looking down upon you and how well you were using your pretty little mouth to please him. His light hums soon turned into light groaned as his cock twitched in your mouth for a second.

His eyes were closed as he focused on the pleasure you were giving him, his eyebrows furrowed as he was trying to hold himself back from just using your mouth as his personal fleshlight. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair.

The more he felt you rub your tongue along then underside of his dick, rubbing what you couldn't fit, and your other hand rubbing his balls lightly; he just felt like his control was slipping out of his grasp like sand.

His hand lightly grasped a handful of your hair, his breathing was a bit heavier as you looked up at him through your lashed confused. But gods, you looked so pretty looking up with those doe eyes of yours; saliva dropping from the sides of your mouth and dripping from his cock with a little bit of precum.

He stood up as he moved to stand right above you, his cock still painfully hard as he guided his dick back in your mouth with a low groan. "Now, be good and take it all, I can't hold back anymore." Without any warning his hips snapped forward, his cock sliding back into your mouth.

You eyes widened as you used your hands to hold onto his thighs to stabilize yourself. You opened your mouth as wide as you could, your eyes tearing up as you felt his cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands completely tangled into you hair, as he trusted himself in and out of your mouth.

His breathing got heavier, as his eyes were closed; he was in pure bliss as he felt you chock and drool all over his cock. Nothing could feel better than this moment, well... except when he has your legs over his shoulders as he fucks himself into your tight little hole, but he could do that later.

Inhaling sharply as he felt his high rapidly approaching, and you could tell as well by the twitching in your mouth. Slowly his trusts into your mouth, he sighed blissfully as he slowly pulled your mouth off his dick, but then just as slowly guided you back to the base as his cock went down your throat.

Your eyes and cheeks soaking with your tears, his lips twitched at your pretty face, and he pushed you all the way down on his cock, making you take in all the way to the base. And with that his cum shot down your throat.

You had no choice but to swallow his seed, after a few more seconds of him enjoying the warmth of your mouth he pulled his cock out. A little cum and all your spit still all over it. "I wish you could see how pretty you look."

Still on your knees, he took your chin in his hand as he looked down at you, his thumb brushing your tears away with a low chuckle. "You did good... I suppose I could reward you, but me spending time on you while I had to be working. Hm. Come here, you're going to sit on my dick until I finish with my work."

He smirked at your expression, "I didn't say I'll reward you so easily, look how much paperwork I still have to do, now come, you'll get what you want after I'm done."

JING YUAN, BLADE, TARTAGLIA, Pantalone, Welt Yang, Alhaitham, Kamisato Ayato, Zhongli

im so tired pls end my suffering

[turtlecleric]

[runs through your wall at full speed like the coolaid man] FOR THE DIALOG-ahem, sorry. screaming. for the dialogue prompts 👁👁 may I humbly request number 2 with rise leo por favor mi amor 👁👁

Hiiiiii Keishaaaaa 💕 anything for you, my dear!

-

“Come here, dumbass.” with rise!Leo

AU where future!Leo came to the past with Casey Jr.

CWs: blood, death, technically reader death but also not? 

-

Leon catches himself staring, sometimes. He'd thought that maybe his memory had put you on a pedestal after he'd lost you, painted you as kinder and more lovely than you actually were - but no. You're just as he remembers, with that laugh that makes his heart flutter and those eyes that make it impossible to say no if you look up at him just right. It's so strange, knowing a version of you that doesn't know him. A you that doesn't seek him out. A you that belongs to someone else. 

Well. It's not really someone else, but… in all the ways that matter, it is. 

It has to be karma. Some sort of twisted punishment from the universe. That's all it can be, really, when he has to watch his younger self act like a complete and total jackass around you. Flirting with you constantly but never actually making a move. Making you blush and laughing it off. Cracking jokes and pushing your buttons and making Leon lose his fucking mind because he knows so much better now, knows that you deserve better. 

He's got to keep it together. 

It's movie night, now. Leo is sitting next to you. Pressed against your side, with an arm around your shoulders like it means nothing. Like Leon wouldn't give anything to so casually hold you in his arms again. 

Leon tries to focus on the movie, but he can smell the faint scent of your shampoo from here. He keeps looking back at you, unable to stop himself, and when Leo's fingers idly caress your shoulder, Leon catches the pretty pink that dusts your cheeks. 

It reminds him of… certain memories. Memories he really shouldn't be thinking about right now, in the same room as a much younger version of you. Although, you were about this age when he and you first started to-

Leon breathes slowly. Forces his gaze back on the movie. 

“Are you cold, hermosa?” Leo murmurs in your ear, drawing Leon's eyes to you once again. Leo's mouth is right up against your ear, and his fingers continue to trail slowly up and down your arm. “You've got goosebumps.”

You swallow, breathing a little fast. Leon gets a little lost in the movement of your throat, then in the way your lips part as you speak. “I'm okay. Thanks.”

Leo hums, watching you intently for a few more moments, then shrugs and turns back to the movie. “If you say so.”

Leon wants to punch the smirk off his stupid face. 

By the time the movie ends, Leon has long since given up trying to stop himself from glaring. He can tell that you've noticed, but Leo is acting like everything is fine. He might even be enjoying Leon's quiet rage, if that cocky smile he gets every time he glances at Leon is anything to go by. 

Leon wonders what it would mean for him if he strangled his younger self to death. He won't know unless he tries, right?

He's joking. 

Mostly.

Movie night ends. You say goodnight. Give everyone a hug. Everyone but Leon, of course. Respecting the boundary he's put in place, even if you don't fully understand why. You give him a little wave instead. It's still too much, but he nods in response, trying to ignore the way his chest tightens at your clear disappointment. 

How could he possibly explain?

He waits until there's no doubt that you're out of earshot to confront Leo. “Stop messing with her.”

There's that cocky smile again. “I don't know what you're talking about, Viejo.”

Leon takes a deep breath, trying to quell the rage that simmers beneath his scales. “She doesn't deserve your bullshit, Leo. She deserves to be treated with respect.”

“Come on, old man, what happened to you?” Raph hisses Leo's name. A warning that Leon himself has heard a thousand times. A warning he's missed having, wished he could've heard just one more time, a thousand more. And just like he always did, Leo pushes forward anyway. “What? I'm just saying, he's blowing this way out of proportion. What's the big d-ah!”

Leon grabs Leo's mask tails, yanking him closer and snarling, “Come here, dumbass.” He holds Leo there, glaring into the wide, shocked eyes of his younger self, and before he can think better of it-

Their eyes glow blue when the mind meld connects. 

An odd echoing, familiar but warped. Looking into a mirror in a dream. A flurry of thoughts, a maelstrom of emotions. Flashes of color blurring into images into memory into

He's calling your name. You always answer when he calls. Always. So why aren't you answering? Why

Screeching. Screaming? Each footfall sends a jarring impact through his bones. He needs to find you. Where

Everything stops. Spins, tilts, then settles into place, but it settles wrong because it's you but 

He says your name, but it's like a question he doesn't want the answer to.

He rushes over, tripping over his own feet. Clumsy, Leo, what is he

It's you but

You're stuck, lying flat in the dirt. Impaled by the claws of a dead hound. Of course you took the fucker out with you. Of course you

“Leo. Can't- can't breathe.”

Your hands reach for him. Slick with blood. Panic, his, yours, choking, choking

When he removes the hound you shriek, sobs ringing in his tympana. Gasping. Begging.

“I know baby, I know. I've got you, okay?” He needs to get you back to the base. Get you patched up somehow. Ignore the red. Ignore the

“H-hurts.” He can barely hear you. He gathers you in his arms, wincing at the choking screams. He knows it hurts, he knows. “Leo. Leo, please-”

His hands are sticky. Almost home. “Shhhhh, I've got you. It's okay, it's okay, just keep breathing.”

They're everywhere. It's so loud, but you're so

Quiet. Why are you

Movement. Sound. Impacts that fall too close, making him stumble, but he still makes it through the portal, makes it to the medbay, places you on the cot. You're staying so still for him while he works. You always were a good patient, but this is

Wrong.

“Leo.”

“Donnie, get me a bag of O neg, I need to-”

“Leo, stop. Please.”

Slick hands. You're so quiet. You're

They're pulling him away, but he's not done. He has to patch you up, can't they see that you need

“Leo, stop!”

You're

The connection snaps like a frayed string. Leo staggers backward, his shell colliding audibly with the wall, and he slides to the floor. His plastron heaves with every breath, his eyes wide and horrified, and Leon watches quietly as tears streak down Leo's face. The cocky smile is gone, and he can't find it in himself to feel anything but hollow satisfaction. 

Someone says something, but Leo is focused only on his younger self. Surely, surely, he understands now. He stalks forward, crouching and grabbing Leo by his sash to pull him closer. “She. Deserves. Better. Get your shit together. I won't tell you again.”

Leo stares up at him, eyes somehow widening further. He's visibly shaking, and all Leon can think is good. 

After a long, tense moment, Leo nods. Leon releases him and stands, glaring down at Leo for another few seconds before he's fully satisfied. He turns on his heel, going straight to his room without another word. 

No one follows.

-

Tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @khayalli @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @shakeyourtrees @silverwatergalaxy

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 10

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

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

Notes/Warnings: very likely typos, fluffy stuff, cursing i think.

Words: 3157

The One I Want Masterlist

The words ‘I’ll be fine’ are still ringing in your ear, drilled into your brain from the excessive number of times they’d been said or texted in the last ten hours. From the moment you stepped out of your bedroom door this morning, Jake began insisting on picking you up from the shop following your shift. He insisted before you even had a chance to suggest an alternative plan for your day. As soon as you opened your mouth, he had his hand up and head shaking to stop you.

“Don’t even say it,” he said, “I’ll be there to get you, same as always,” to which you responded with what might as well be your new catchphrase: “I’ll be fine.”

His attempts to put his foot down on the matter were unsuccessful as you pointed out every reason why finding your own means of transportation after work is the best solution. He rolled his eyes at “It’s your birthday, Jake,” and snorted at “Your party at the bar starts an hour and a half before my shift ends,” but finally surrendered to “If you’re late, your friends will be disappointed. They mean too much to you for that.” Then he sighed and nodded and continued about his morning routine as you did yours before you headed to the shop. Though you thought you’d won, you received multiple “Are you sure?” texts that were also answered with “I’ll be fine.” And you are fine. Your shift was dull, uneventful, and you had no issue securing a quick ride to The Hard Deck. 

Hopping out of the back of the driver’s car is a struggle with the number of bags hanging off your arms. Between your purse, Jake’s present, and the clothes you wore to work shoved into a grocery bag—which were switched with the casual, green knee-length dress you’re wearing—you’re weighed down. 

“Need some help there, Sweetness?” Javy is one of few lingering outside the bar, and the only person you know within sight. He smiles and the arms crossed over his chest bounce with his chuckle. Before you answer, he walks over to snatch both your purse and the grocery bag in his hands. “I’m gonna toss these in Jake’s truck. No one will bother them,” he says.

In his brief absence, you stand a little straighter and brush the stray hairs back behind your ear. A low whistle coming from behind you causes you to flinch until you realize it’s from your friend as he makes his way back over to you.

“You're definitely lookin’ lovely,” he teases, and you snort.

“Quit it.”

“No can-do, sweetness. Too pretty to ignore.”

Heat floods your cheeks and you look down at the ivy-green material flowing around your body. It’s about as simple a dress you could find—well, that Millie could help you find after insisting on leaving behind the jeans—but it’s much more than anything you’ve worn in the past. Social events have never been your cup of tea. Not being invited out has left you slim on practice, and that includes every aspect down to your choice of clothing. While Millie did help you pick it out, it doesn’t necessarily mean she is an expert either, but you have no way of knowing for sure. “Is it too much?”

“Not a chance,” Javy replies. “You look amazing. And you happen to be the very reason I am out here instead of in there.”

“Meaning…”

“As Jake’s top-tier friend, I want to be the one to personally deliver his favorite present. Now that you’re here, I can do that,” he says with a wink before holding out his elbow for you to take. 

—

Jake’s eyes are already on the door when you walk in, finding you instantly, and his entire body perks up like a man just shot with a bolt of life. Shoulders lose the little bit of slump there was from forearms resting on the high-top table and eyebrows drop their pinch as he watches your every step toward him. Through the mass of bodies Javy assists in weaving you through, Jake’s stare is impressive. It’s steady and he doesn’t lose you, not for a second. 

When you reach him, Javy loudly declares “The contest is over! I just won best present.” He then releases you to round the group and pops open a bottle of beer with the edge of the table. By the multiple marks on the wood surface, you imagine—hope, anyway—that Penny doesn’t mind. However, if anyone were to follow her rules and respect the property she requests be respected, it would be this group. 

As you stand there greeting the rest of the crew, you can still feel those green eyes. A few other pairs dart back and forth between you and Jake. Tension bubbles around the back corner of the room where the modest party is set up, but it’s not an aggressive tension from distress or concern of discomfort; it’s a tension buzzing wildly with excitement. And from the smiles on faces and the little redhead you’ve bonded with bouncing on her toes, you can begin to guess where this buzzing, humming, zapping energy is coming from. 

They know. You’re not sure why a flash of surprise moves through you. Of course, they know. Of course, Jake told them. They’re his best friends. They’re the family he made after the devastation of having his own taken from him. His sharing of what’s happened between you over the last week is normal, so normal that it’s unfamiliar. One more thing you’ll have to get used to if Jake continues to pull you out of the existence you’ve known for so long.

“Hi,” he says. It rides on a heavy exhale that you can barely hear through the cacophony of voices filling the bar. 

Jake’s friends appear to go back to their conversations, but they’re no good at disguising their true intentions. Their ears are alert as eyes rely on the strength of their peripheral vision to catch either your or Jake’s next move. A tight squeeze with roaming hands, a deep kiss, an arm wrapping possessively around a shoulder or waist—they’re clearly eager to witness it all, but the anticipation hanging in the air is snuffed out by Jake leaning in and innocently brushing his lips over your cheek. To your side, there is a collective murmuring of disappointment that is, again, poorly disguised.

“You get here ok? I mean, you know, without complication?” Jake asks. A nod joins your budding grin. 

“Easy-peasy.” He stares more, his fingers traveling from your elbow to your wrist, and you suddenly remember what’s clutched in your hands. “Oh, I got you this,” you say, holding up the bag. It’s made of a thin, golden paper that’s priced way too high for its quality with clashing orange tissue sticking out of it, and it’s about four sizes too big for the gift you got him, but it was all the shop had last minute. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. That’s what people do,” you counter, because even though you’ve never received a present on your birthday, Jake is the type of guy who always should. You hold the bag higher, forcing him to take it.

“Thank you,” he says before turning to set the bag on the table. It’s then that you see the remnants of paper and bows scattered across the wooden surface. Piled on a couple of stools behind Bob are the gifts he has already opened. Jake’s hand starts to dig through the bright orange tissue paper. 

“You’re going to open it right now?” you ask, having previously imagined there would be at least a sliver less of attention on the two of you when he does. Your fingers of one hand begin to fiddle with the fingers of the other. 

“Sure, why not?” His hand pauses and he looks at you a little harder. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“N-No, it’s fine.” A blond brow raises. “Really, it is.”

He waits a second longer before resuming his discarding of the paper. When he looks inside, his hand retreats, and he watches your gift at the bottom of the bag as if it might start moving on its own. Then his head shakes and he grins ear to ear and he reaches back in to pull it out. The brows of the other aviators pinch in confusion at the globe sitting in the palm of Jake’s hand. In all of its cheap glory, it contains a beach scene with plenty of unnatural sparkly snow settled at the bottom of the liquid which is quickly disturbed by Jake’s light shaking. He chuckles. Then chuckles some more. Crinkles deepen at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Rooster mutters, only to have Millie elbow him in the side. 

“You don’t have to,” she scolds. “Now hush.”

Despite Jake’s laughter, when he places the snow globe back in the bag you fear you’ve somehow fucked up. That it’s not as cute as you imagined he would think. That he’d rather you have gotten him nothing over something so silly. But then he faces you, takes your hand, and as he starts to walk away from the table, whispers, “Come with me.”

As you’re led away you glance over your shoulder to see that your friends are all in different states. Nat and Bob are exchanging glances and snickering at the birthday boy’s rapid departure, Millie is smacking her boyfriend’s hand as he reaches for the golden bag, and Javy smirks along with the statement “That certainly didn't take long.” 

You look ahead, but before you can fully catch up with your surroundings, you’re yanked through a door and pushed up against the other side of it as a mouth firmly presses to yours. Jake’s palm smacks the surface next to you, blindly feeling around for the deadbolt, and the thud from its turn echoes in the empty bathroom. Then his hands cup your cheeks and you melt as he pulls you in closer. 

At a different time, with a different man, unmanageable thoughts would be taking control of your senses right now. Your fingers would be stiffening and your eyes would be snapping open, darting around to take in every square inch of the room in search of signs of other people. You would be listening for any and every sound with such intensity that you’d have a decent count on the number of footsteps passing by the other side of the door. You wouldn’t be letting yourself go or forget your troubles or feel for a single moment because you know what this behavior looks like. You know how others often perceive it. In the midst of past frenzied kisses, your brain would deteriorate into a fractured mess. Ten percent of your mind would struggle to focus on the wandering hands and lips attached to yours; fifteen percent would go to wondering if anyone saw you sneak into the bathroom with a man; twenty would be spent worrying you’ll receive looks of judgment and pity once you rejoin the bar; twenty-five would be questioning why you’re choosing to be in the position you’re in when you know it won’t end well; and the remaining thirty percent would be trying to prematurely push away the shame to come when the somewhat intoxicated man kissing you in the bar bathroom decides he is done. 

It’s not a different time, though. You’re not with a different man. You’re exactly where you are, with the man you are with, and you don’t care about anything but him. 

Jake is pulled in with hands fisted in the material of his shirt. He’s your only source of stability and direction as he turns your bodies and walks you backward. When your lower back meets the edge of the sink, you separate the kiss and instinctually jump up. Of course you jump. You always jump in these situations. But this time when your bottom lands on top of the counter, you don’t second guess the man whose hips are settling between your spread thighs, whose eyes gaze at you like you’re the most incredible thing they've ever seen, whose hands are threading into your hair, whose lips are once again claiming yours. 

His tongue teases the seam of your lips and when you part them so it can slip inside to brush along yours, muffled moans merge. The fingers hidden within the strands of your hair tighten into fists. They stay there until your own hands begin to explore. One index finger curls through a belt loop, tugging inward to remove what little distance remains between you. The other is the first on that hand to dip under the hem of his shirt and stroke over a patch of tanned skin just above the button of his jeans. You love how he feels there—hard with thick muscle but soft from the trail of hair that disappears under a band of denim. Jake shudders against you, and it seems to serve as a reminder that there is more of you for him to touch as well. 

With your hair freed, a hand grasps your outer thigh where your dress has ridden up. Fingertips knead flesh as an arm snakes around your waist. A squeak of surprise gets stuck in your throat when that arm jerks forward, unexpectedly managing to inch your bottom closer to the edge of the counter. 

There is so much happening, so much to absorb, and you don’t have a chance to mentally address the tick of uncertainty that never showed itself. Instead, you are simply full of the feeling that none of this scares you. Not a bit of it. Not the strength of his arm around you. Not the hand that has begun to slide up your thigh and under the hem of your dress to the swell of your ass. Not the pressing of his hips into the space between your legs. Not the heat he gives off that fights the chill of the room. Not his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, or the whimpers it draws forth that with anyone else would have you shrinking in embarrassment. You’re so far from afraid that you've crossed into happily addicted territory.

His mouth vanishes from yours to latch onto your neck. The sound you make at the new sensation has Jake’s hold on you tightening. 

“All because of a—” you gasp from a teasing lick under your ear, “a snow globe?”

You’ve learned that Jake likes to leave trails of his kisses; mark after mark to show the places he’s been. It is between the kisses of this trail from your ear to your shoulder that you hear “Partly the snow globe,” after one kiss, “partly this dress,” after another, and then “mostly just because it’s you.”

Jake chuckles when you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. You could let him continue on for hours—would, too—but a banging on the door snaps you out of your blissful haze. 

Cursing, your spine straightens like a rod. “J-Just a second!” you yell, patting Jake’s shoulder. He hums into your sensitive skin, sending vibrations over your pulse. “Jake, I know you heard that. People want in.” There’s another knock, and another. Leaning back and placing your hands on his cheeks, you force Jake to look at you. “Time for you to leave.”

He holds his finger up. “One condition.”

“No conditions,” you say as you nudge him aside and hop off the counter. “There are women out there who have to pee.”

It’s a boom this time, leaving no question as to the person’s impatience. Twisting around, you glance over yourself in the mirror. Your lips are stolen, hair wild, and as you go about fixing it back into place, Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“Promise me we can continue this at home,” he says. “I don't want to stop.” 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “Maybe…if you go.”

“Deal.” One more kiss lands on your shoulder before Jake is unbolting the door and jerking it open for whoever is on the other side. He peeks his head out, glances left and right, then looks back at you. “No one’s here.”

“You still have to go.” His face falls into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. All of your friends are waiting for you, anyway.”

“They're waiting for you, too.”

“It's not my birthday. And I need to fix myself up a bit.”

Jake grins. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you see his eyes linger on your face and chest, enjoying the flush he caused that is more prominent under the fluorescents. They then make a slow line down your body, taking the time to appreciate your ass along the way. “That really is a great dress.”

Your flush deepens. “Go,” you demand, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks and then he’s gone. 

A squeeze traps the air in your lungs. It caves in your chest, making the thumping of your heart all the more demanding of your attention, and you roll your eyes when it becomes clear that your body is reacting to you missing him. Two seconds apart and you already want him back, and now you feel like a giddy fool; a horny teenager around the first boy to ever truly want her. 

Blowing out that trapped breath, you run your fingers through your hair to tame it. It doesn’t manage to return to its previous state, but there is nothing you can do about it. Neither can you remove that pink shade from your cheeks and chest despite the damp paper towel you blot over your skin. You look half-sexed, and it’s comically obvious. But maybe if you channel Jake Seresin energy and walk back to your friends’ table without looking guilty, they won’t look at you like you have something to be guilty of. Not guilty in a demeaning sense, of course, but guilty in a way that will have them shooting teasing looks at you right before Nat and Millie pull you away from the men for details of your actions.

That will have to be your plan, because there is no chance they won’t notice your altered appearance, especially when they immediately knew why you and Jake were disappearing to begin with. 

Shaking your head, you tug at the bottom of your dress to make sure all of its seams line up with where they are supposed to be on your body. When you decide it’s about as good as it’s going to get, you head for the door and pull it open, but your path is blocked. 

“Good thing he finally left,” Brit says. She steps forward and to avoid a collision you have to take a step back into the bathroom. “Now we have a chance to talk.”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 11

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, homophobic slang

Part 1

Billy slammed his bedroom door after yet another fight with his dad. His father wasn't keen on his son skipping school and being a victim of a brutal attack wasn't a good enough excuse. He pulled out his phone dialing Stu's number. It rang and it rang which was unusual. No one answered. 'Maybe he wasn't home?' Billy wondered quickly realizing Stu had no place to go. He dialed again hearing the mind numbing ring. Finally Stu picked up.

"Hello?" A woman spoke. "Uhm is Stu there?" The voice on the end belonged to his mother. A person Billy only met twice. "No, Stu went... Oh shit honey where did Stu go? What's his little girlfriend's name?" Billy listened closely trying to hear all of the conversation. He could barley make out a man's voice in the back which he assumed was Stu's father. "No not that one she died remember." Billy raised his eyebrows in surprise. Even he wasn't that insensitive and he murdered her. "Y/n, Stu is staying at Y/n's." Staying?

Billy laughed nervously. "No I don't think I heard you right ma'am. Did you say "staying?"" She rubbed her forehead wanting to hang up on the strange child. "Yes he moved out while we do renovations. Goodbye now." The line died leaving Billy to piece all this together. It was almost laughable. He managed to lose the only two people he cared about on this horrible planet and both of them were probably fucking without saying so much as one word to him. Billy grabbed his things deciding to pay you and Stu a visit.

The drive back to your place was nice. He had a plan and things always ran smoother with a plan. He parked a block down the street deciding to walk the rest of the way. Your bedroom light was on making it easy for people like Billy to see into your life. He was ready for the worst. Maybe he'd break in like a scorned lover and kill the both of you. It'd be poetic but it would easily trace back to him. With your fragile little heart it'd probably stop knowing you'd been caught.

He lifted the binoculars he brought up adjusting the lenses so he could see. You walked into the room wearing some nightgown that resembled something he's sure his grandmother wore. You were holding a bowl handing it to Stu who sat on the floor. Once you sat down you were completely out of view. Billy cursed under his breath as he thought up a new plan.

"You can't hog the m&ms asshole." You threw a blue one which he caught like a seal. Stu raised his eyebrows surprised he actually caught it. "I'm impressed." You clapped and he did a half bow sitting on the floor. "This is one of my favorite's." You said pointing towards the movie that just started. Stu rolled his eyes. "Everything is your favorite." He passed you the bowl of candy. "What is this again?" Stu asked only paying attention to long haired actor.

"Benny and Joon. I saw it when it came out with my ex." Stu was interested in that story but he let it go knowing how much you wanted to watch your movie. "Billy should grow his hair out like that." Stu said before he popped a handful of candy in his mouth showing you the mashed up contents. "Why are you so nasty?" He laughed looking back towards the TV. "No, long haired boys have too much power over me. He keeps playing though I'm going to buzz off what hair he does have."

You were oblivious to the man in your home and Billy was scared for you. No wonder you needed someone to protect you. The key was still in the same place it was Saturday after they left your house. He wished he could relive that day. Billy heard his name so he stopped moving trying to hear what Stu was saying. He thought you were furious at him but you talked about him like he was still your friend.

Stu laughed. "In that case I'll grow mine out." He was only half joking. "I think you could pull it off. Grow it too long though you run the risk of looking like Shaggy form Scooby Doo." You teased tossing a m&m up letting your friend catch it. "I'll keep it like it is then. I have thought about dyeing it though." You squinted picturing him with different colored hair. "What color?" Stu scratched his head in thought. "White or maybe frosted tips." You cringed at the thought of frosted tips. "Fuck I'll make sure never to play poker with you. Damn." He laughed at the obvious face you made.

Billy crept up the stairs just enough to be able to see in your room. "Oh shhh. I think blonde hair would look good on you but frosted tips is just too gay even for you." He gasped as he brought his hand up to his forehead like he was about to faint. "Yeah you're probably right." He dropped the act eating more candy. "Besides once we graduate we'll pack our shit and leave. You could dye your hair whatever color you want. What's your opinion on cottages?"

You sat on the bed with a big bowl of candy while Stu sat in the floor at the end of the bed. Billy was relieved and a little disappointed there was no sinful act happening. Where did this leave him though? Were you both just waiting for him to make a move? You didn't tell him how to fix things and that bothered the hell out of him.

"You're worried about frosted tips being gay but you want me to live in a cottage with you? I might as well wrestle naked with Billy outside just to show off to the neighbors." You pursed your lips. "Include baby oil and I'll be there." Stu laughed scrunching his face. "You are an absolute freak. Me too." You both laughed eventually focusing back on the movie.

It was nice to know Stu was still his usual self but it was odd seeing you adapt to who you were around. The baby oil comment which Billy did not want to unpack is something you'd never say to his face. You were carefree around Stu and it felt like for the first time since he met you he was seeing who you actually were.

"Someone's at the door." Stu said pausing the VCR. You groaned knowing Billy was showing back up to either kill you or try some stupid attempt of convincing you that you need him. "I'll get it. Stay up here I don't want a fight." Stu nodded laying back on your floor. You walked to the front door trying to prepare yourself for whatever was about to happen. "What do you want Billy?" Billy had a small window of time to back out.

"May I come in?" He asked and you knew he was about to put on an Oscar worthy performance. "You may." You said bemused as you moved out of the way letting him in. "Can you tell Stu to come down here I need to talk to him too." Your blood ran cold. Billy knew and you were both likely dead. "How'd you know?" The door locked in placed once you shut it. "I called his house and his mom picked up." You sighed nodding your head. "Hey Stu, can you come down here?" You called out worried for the both of you.

Stu was terrified. He felt like a child in trouble. The walk of shame down the steps was especially embarrassing seeing Billy at the end of them. "Hey Stu." He said sending the boy a small smile. Your new roommate shot you a look saying something along the lines of "what the fuck?" Billy knew he had to choose his words very carefully. "Um can you both just sit down for a second?" Oh yeah the cops were sure to find you and Stu tomorrow.

Both you and Stu sat on the couch looking at your friend stand in front of you. "I'll be the first to say I'm not good at this." He looked to the floor only looking up once Stu spoke. "No kidding." He joked but you looked at him with eyes that could only tell him to shut up. Billy chuckled before talking again. "I'm sorry." You analyzed those two words over and over in your head. They sounded genuine but they couldn't be coming from Billy, could they? "I am sorry for what I did to both of you. Stu I'm most ashamed about what I've done to you."

Billy was walking on eggshells here. His eyes darted over at you reading you expression. You weren't mad. Stu has suffered Billy's wrath way longer than you've known him. "I really do care about you, I'm just scared of what people think about me. I hate the way people stare at us when we're out in public it makes me want to peel my skin off. I shouldn't take that out on you or make you feel as awful as I do. So I really am sorry." Billy's words worked on Stu you saw it in real time. You still couldn't figure out what was genuine and what was bullshit.

"Y/n." It was a good start but how was he going to finish it? The moment he tried to put the blame on someone other than himself you swore you'd beat his ass. You and Stu would have a body to dispose of. "I was and still am a horrible person. I never once thought about how you felt or how what I did affected you because I never cared." It hurt but it was honest. The way kids stared and whispered about him today, he couldn't begin to imagine what you went through on a daily basis.

"I'm going to change." You laughed dryly turning your head away from him. Billy dropped to his knees in front of you holding your hands in his. You were losing. He knew what he was doing and it was working. "I'm going to get better because I can't imagine a world without you and Stu in it. I know you can make it on your own but I can't. I need you a million times more than you need me and I know that. Not just to cook or clean but I need you to squeeze my arm when you watch a scary movie. I need you to call me out on my shit when I'm obviously spinning a story my way."

"I need you Y/n." Stu looked at Billy never seeing him open up like this. "You don't even know me." You quipped trying to be the voice of reason. Billy's voice cracked as he spoke. "Then teach me. I'll take notes if you want me to. This whole thing was to start over. We could bump into each other somewhere and we will meet for the first time all over again. I just need you Y/n, whatever version you give me I'll be happy to have." You lost. "Will you two excuse me for a moment?" You politely stood up going up stairs to your bathroom. Shutting the door you then turned on the faucet to full blast. The sink was going and eventually so was the tub. "Is she running water?" Billy asked worried he had done something wrong. You screamed so loud Stu honest to God thought the neighbors would call the cops. "Is she okay?" Billy asked standing up to go check on you. Stu stuck his arm out stopping him. "She does this."

You calmly returned, both the boys worried you might pass out from the length of the screams. "What do you want?" You asked Billy as you leaned on the door frame. "What do you mean?" This time he just wanted your forgiveness. He wanted to try again. "I accepted your apology. What do you want from us? Do you want us to go upstairs so we can some a threesome or are you actually wanting to figure this out?" It was sarcastic but you saw the brief second of consideration pass your friends faces. "I want us to be friends again at least. Did you know some bitches sat at our water fountain today?" He looked at Stu starting a whole new conversation. "Are they blind we sit there everyday?"

You snapped grabbing their attention. "I'm not fucking around. If we do this we do it right. I'm not getting hurt again and if I do I'm cutting someone's balls off." Stu put his finger to the tip of his nose quickly. "Not it!" He shouted making Billy smack his arm. "Ow man I was joking." He wasn't joking. "Am I understood?" The boys looked at each other not sure if they should feel this way about you right now. "Understood." Billy said as Stu echoed him. "Great! Now who wants dinner?"

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum @geekygremlin @madneedshelp

Part 12

A/N: I am absolutely in shock by how much love this series is getting. I just wanted to let everyone know that the taglist is now closed. Thank you all so much for being so kind and supportive. ����

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

[difficultdomains]

suguru’s plan was a relaxing movie night - but you definitely had something else in mind…

what do you do when insomnia hits? exactly - make up scenarios with this man in your head (he my muse fr)

mdni - nsfw under the cut

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when it comes to movie nights, suguru and you mean absolute business. you’re doing it all - keeping lists, leaving letterboxd reviews and always preferring something new over a rewatch. once every couple weeks, however, a special rule you agreed upon comes into effect - comfort movies are rewatchable, at any given time and any number of times - no discussions, no veto.

so when he comes back to your apartment, sore and exhausted after a week that probably felt more akin to a month, you wrap yourselves into a blanket and huddle up on the couch with strategically placed snacks and his favourite movie queued on the big living room TV.

you keep sneaking looks at him throughout, intrigued by the way the flickering light dances across the bridge of his nose and his lips, by the way his eyes are fixed on the narrative unfolding in front of him even though you’re sure that he could recite the dialogues backwards if he had to.

you know that the only thing he probably wants right now is to relax. the only thing you want right now? him. so why not combine both?

you start your silent attack by repositioning yourself under the blanket, feigning that the comfortable position you were in has turned into one of discomfort and that the fact that your hand was now resting on his thigh was mere conincidence.

your fingers are subtle but restless and soon they inch closer and closer to the place you plan on conquering, ghosting over it, featherlight, not suspicious at all.

with his eyes still glued to the screen, he smirks knowingly. you turn to him, waiting with a lopsided grin.

you have him exactly where you want him.

“what do you think you’re doing?” taunting you, so sure of himself, so sure he knows what you’re up to. but when he sees the way you’re looking at him, his eyes widen.

before he can even register what’s about to befall him, you have already disappeared under the blanket, sweats pushed down and lips wrapping around the pretty tip of his barely half-hard dick.

he takes in a sharp breath, hissing your name through gritted teeth.

this was one of your favourite things to do, make him get hard just with your mouth. and he was very aware of your little preference, which only made it that much more enticing - and unfair - to him.

he pulls the blanket away, hand tangling in your hair solely to give him a better view of the spectacle in front of him. the sight alone makes him bite back a groan. but when you push down even further and have him hit the back of your throat, he loses complete control of the moan that escapes him and all the other ones that follow while you continue your skillful twirls and licks.

he’s beyond hard at this point, much to your silent satisfaction, and you’re not very suprised when you feel a gentle but firm grip on the back of your neck, pulling you away from him.

he crashes your lips together in a hungry kiss and when he pulls away, catching your chin in a similar grip like before, you can’t escape the intensity of his flared-up irises burning into yours.

“ride me.”

you raise a single perfectly arched eyebrow at him.

“please.”

you quickly find your place on his lap, lips instantly attaching to the flushed skin of his neck.

“hmm if you insist…” is the last thing you manage to hum against his skin before he captures you in another kiss.

mission accomplished.

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this is the first proper smutty thing i’ve ever written - so yay it’s a premiere. anyways i hope your hopefully well rested brain enjoyed this little drabble from my very sleep deprived one (pls excuse any errors - i am simply sending this out into the aether lul)