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witchywithwhiskey · 3 days

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trucker prince charming (part 2)

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x sex worker!female reader

summary: you take your favorite trucker up on his offer to meet him at his rig after you finish your shift at the strip club where you work—and it's better than you imagined, which means you're in trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, condom discussion, dry humping, marking/hickeys, finger sucking, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (kitten), sex worker insecurities, referenced glory hole sex, referenced abuse of power, love confession, a lot of emotions—let me know if i missed something!

word count: 9.5k

a/n: god i hope this chapter works 🫣 i struggled with it a bit, to make reader's reluctance consistent and believable. but i also wanted to to be like super romantic, so yeah, i hope it is!!! ahhh ok please enjoy more trucker jake—i hope y'all love him as much as i do!!!

trucker king masterlist

Excitement and fear roiled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel slightly queasy as you shoved your cash tips from the night into your purse in the back room of Diesel Dolls. In fact, you were trembling so hard, if you’d been wearing a pair of the sky high heels you wore when you worked the stage, you’d be worried about breaking an ankle. But your thoughts were elsewhere, on the trucker who was absolutely not your prince charming.

As you gathered your things, all you could think about was your favorite trucker who visited you often in the glory holes at the back of the club. Jake Jensen was everything you shouldn’t want. He was one of Diesel Dolls’ most reliable regulars, always stopping by the glory holes when he passed by on the interstate—though, ever since he’d started coming to you, you were the only one he’d let take care of him.

Still, his status as a regular made any kind of outside relationship with him strictly off-limits according to the owner of the club, Mr. Ransom Drysdale.

Mr. Drysdale didn’t take kindly to girls who formed relationships with his trucker clientele outside the club, he said it was too much of a risk of the girl stealing his business. And if Mr. Drysdale suspected anything, he was known for his harsh, humiliating punishments. He wouldn’t fire you if he found out you were planning to meet up with Jake after your shift, but he’d find a creative way for you to regret it.

Even with that thought in your mind, you couldn’t get Jake’s parting words out of your head. You kept hearing his friendly, sweet and deliciously deep voice saying to you, “I’m sleeping in my rig tonight…in case you wanna stop by.”

Those had been the final words he’d spoken to you when he’d come to your spot at the glory holes earlier that evening, but he’d left before you could respond to the obvious offer. A part of you was grateful he hadn’t demanded an answer from you in the moment, since it meant you could think it over without any pressure from him. But it also meant that, hours later, you were still uncertain about what you were going to do.

You were still debating it with yourself when you threw on a long jacket to cover the skimpy tank top and shorts you wore when working the glory holes, and walked out the back door of Diesel Dolls. There, you stopped short.

In your preoccupation with Jake, you’d forgotten what to expect when leaving the club. A few of the other girls lingered outside smoking cigarettes and chatting with the security guards tasked with walking you and your coworkers to your cars. There was a bite of chill in the air that had you wrapping your coat tighter around your body while you wavered in indecision, the audience making you more anxious about what to do.

“Need a cig, girl?” asked Crystal, one of the girls that had been working at Diesel Dolls even longer than you. She held out her pack to you, her own cigarette pinched between two fingers, the smoke trailing up toward the late night sky. Her eyes were sharp as they watched you, even if her open expression seemed to be nice.

You gave Crystal a tight smile and shook your head, muttering, “No thanks.” You could feel Crystal’s eyes on you as you took two steps into the parking lot, which made the fear in your chest burn brighter than the excitement Jake’s offer had inspired.

Crystal liked to make herself out to be the motherly one of the bunch who worked at the club, the kind who would give advice to the new girls and commiserate with those who’d been working at Diesel Dolls too long. But you’d noticed the way things that seemed to only be said to Crystal had a way of getting back to Mr. Drysdale. That was enough to have your shoulders bunching up around your ears.

Crystal was the last person you wanted to see you walking to Jake’s truck. But you didn’t want to give up on him yet. You’d known Jake for a couple months while he’d been frequenting your glory hole, and you were so desperately curious about him, that you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity. So you pulled out your phone and pretended to be texting someone while you hoped the group outside the back door dispersed.

Thankfully, they all seemed to finish up soon enough and Crystal went back inside while the security guards split up to walk the other girls to their cars. You waved them off when they offered to walk you as well, claiming you had a ride coming and waited until they rounded the side of the building to where most of the girls parked their cars.

For a brief moment, you were alone with nothing but the clear night air and your thoughts. You knew it was a bad idea to go to Jake, but the pull you felt to him was too strong. It was bound to get you into some kind of trouble, whether with Mr. Drysdale or something you couldn’t even anticipate. You typically prided yourself in having a great deal of sense, but everything about your favorite trucker made you want to act like you didn’t have any.

Before you’d even fully made up your mind, your feet began to carry you in the direction you knew you’d be able to find him. For once, your heart seemed to be making the decisions and though your brain was still listing all the ways in which things could go wrong—Jake could be horrid in person, or he could fuck you and go around the club bragging about it—they didn’t seem as important as finally finding out what it would feel like to fall into your favorite trucker’s arms.

Diesel Dolls had a small parking lot in front and to one side of the building, but on the other side, there was a much bigger parking lot that the strip club shared with Everett’s Roadhouse. It was big enough to accommodate all the truckers and their rigs who frequented both the club and the bar. It also had special permissions that allowed the truckers to sleep there over night.

It was to this parking lot that your feet carried you.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were swallowed up by the shadows of the massive trucks in the parking lot, your soft exhale masking the sound of the back door of Diesel Dolls closing. You didn’t hear it, though, because you were too focused on looking for the truck Jake had described to you.

Turning a corner around a big white rig, you spotted the truck that could only belong to your favorite trucker. And standing in front of it, leaning against the grill at the front, was a man. Your heart leapt in your chest as you realized it could only be him. Your favorite trucker. Your Jakey.

Your breath caught in your throat and your feet stumbled to a stop. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you took the moment to look him over, greedily raking your eyes down his body while he stared at something on his phone.

Jake looked tall, even from the little bit of distance between you, with broad shoulders that filled out the bright green t-shirt he wore, which had some kind of graphic printed on the front. His jeans were a basic blue denim that fit him a little snugly, and he wore work boots that were kicking idly at the pavement of the parking lot, like he was struggling to be patient.

But what caught your attention the most about Jake was his face. You were a little surprised to discover that Jake wore glasses, but that was maybe because you’d never seen another trucker who wore them. You stared at his side profile for a long time, appreciating his strong jaw accented by the goatee framing his soft mouth. His dark hair lightened at the spiky tips, and for some reason, you found yourself craving to touch it, to run your hands through it.

All at once, you realized you’d been right about Jake—he was cute. And not just cute, he was fucking hot. You’d never seen a man who could pull off both, but your favorite trucker managed it.

Your heart thudded in your chest and if you’d been thinking with anything but your heart, you’d have been worried about your reaction to the man who you knew you couldn’t be with. But you were only admiring your favorite trucker and thinking about how cute he looked waiting for you.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly drifting closer to Jake until he straightened suddenly, and looked straight at you. Your breath froze in your lungs when you met his gaze, startling at the bright blue of his eyes, even shadowed as they were in the dim light of the parking lot. Your feet came to an abrupt stop and you waited anxiously while Jake took his own inspection of you, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t find you lacking.

But there was no long perusal of your body, only brief moment when eh let his gaze drop to your lips before he caught your eye again. A charmingly friendly grin spread across his handsome face, excitement rolling off him in waves that made you feel giddy.

“Kitten?” he asked, a little hesitantly. Almost like he was a little shy.

If you hadn’t already been certain the man was Jake, his voice would’ve convinced you. It was warm and pleasantly deep, sending a delicious shiver of recognition down your spine, heat blooming in the depth of your core. A small, tentative smile curved the edges of your mouth as you walked closer to your favorite trucker, noticing that he stayed near his truck and let you come to him.

“Jake,” you said, his name gusting past your lips in an awed exhale. He looked even more handsome up close, and your eyes couldn’t stop taking in the lines and curves of his face. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of simply looking at him.

“You came.” He stated the obvious, his voice low and gruff with an emotion that tugged at something deep inside your chest. You were drawn in closer to your favorite trucker by some invisible tether that seemed to connect the two of you. So wrapped up in the moment, you didn’t even question why you felt so deeply for a man you were only truly meeting for the first time.

You came to a stop right in front of Jake, close enough you had to tilt your head back to hold his gaze—close enough you could feel the heat of him in the chilly night air. You wanted to press even closer and wrap yourself around the big, broad man, but you held yourself back, suddenly unsure how to act without a wall of plywood between you.

“You’re cuter than I imagined,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, amazement making your voice breathy.

But as soon as the words registered in your mind, you winced and pressed a hand over your mouth. You were about to apologize for the backhanded compliment when Jake laughed huskily, a little bit of pink tinging his cheeks, which only made him look even cuter.

“Ya think I’m cute, kitten?” he asked, his fingers reaching out and brushing against yours, electricity zinging through your body at just that brief touch.

Your breath hitched as your body went haywire, desire flooding through your veins and making you sway into your favorite trucker. Jake seemed to notice your reaction because a grin spread across his face and he tangled his fingers with yours while he kept talking.

“Not hot, or sexy—or studly?” His voice went much deeper on that last word to emphasize it, and you couldn’t help the startled giggle that fled from your lips. You’d suspected Jake was funny, and you were delighted to discover you were right about that too.

Jake used the moment when your guard was down to pull you into his arms, where you landed against his chest with a small huff of surprise. Immediately, your laughter died in your throat and you stared up into Jake’s eyes while he watched you with a pleased smile curling the edges of his mouth.

The thought came to you suddenly: You could fall in love with Jake Jensen. In fact, you knew, somehow, that it would be as easy as breathing to fall in love with Jake. A small part of you even thought you already were falling in love with your favorite trucker.

But as soon as you had those thoughts, you pushed them away, the fear you’d felt earlier rearing its ugly head. You couldn’t fall in love with Jake, not when you knew you’d never be able to be with him in the way you wanted. Developing feelings for him would only lead to getting hurt and you didn’t think you’d survive the kind of hurt falling love with Jake would lead to. So you forced yourself not to think about it.

Instead, you let yourself act on instinct. You reached up and traced your fingertips gently down the side of Jake’s face, your touch so light you weren’t sure if he could even feel it. But when you got to the plump curve of his lower lip, he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you so intensely, your hand fell away to fist in the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I don’t meet a lot of cute guys in my line of work,” you whispered, the words part explanation, part distraction from the way Jake was looking at you like he planned to grab you and kiss you and never let you go. “It’s…” you trailed off, not knowing where you were going with that thought.

No, that was a lie, you knew exactly where you were going, you just got scared to continue it. But Jake was patient, and he waited, his gaze expectant, and you discovered you didn’t want to let him down—either with an attempt to change the subject or with a lie.

“It’s amazing,” you said, so softly, you weren’t sure he’d be able to hear. “You’re amazing, Jakey.” Your eyes fell to his lips, looking so soft and inviting. Your favorite trucker’s mouth was so tempting, and you knew you’d never be the same once he kissed you, which scared you more than a little, your heart thudding almost painfully in your chest.

Thankfully, Jake was brave enough for the both of you.

His arms wound around your waist, knees bending to wrap you up in his hold and haul you up close to his chest, so you were left standing on tiptoes and staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. He lowered his face until your mouths were so close, you could taste the sharp mint of his breath on your tongue, but he didn’t close the distance.

Your heart was racing with excitement and a little bit of fear, and you could feel Jake’s arousal through your clothes, but the tension of the moment was delicious and you didn’t mind if Jake wanted to take things a little slow. At least, for the moment.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rumbled, collapsing back against the grill of his truck while he stared at you with amazement in his blue eyes. “I’ll take cute as a compliment if you’re the one saying it,” he said, his voice pitched low and earnest. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, clinging to him as you watched the edges of his mouth curve into a grin. “Hell, you can call me a cute little pup and I’ll roll over so you can pet my belly.”

Jake’s arms squeezed you tightly, holding you pinned to his chest, and a distant part of you was surprised by the fact that you didn’t feel trapped by him. You felt impossibly giddy with happiness and excitement, warmth curling pleasantly through your body as you pressed tighter against him, feeling his hard cock digging into your stomach. He was so eager for you, and it was so hot because you wanted him just as badly, but you couldn’t help teasing him a little.

“I think puppy wants something more than belly rubs,” you murmured, a smirk curling your lips. You lifted one of your feet to rest on the grill of Jake’s truck, opening your legs to grind your core against his bulge, wringing a groan out of him, his hands fisting in the jacket at your back.

“Mm, you feel so fucking good,” he rumbled in a husky voice, then paused, pulling back enough to catch your eye. He wore an adorably confused expression. “Hang on, are you calling me or my dick ‘puppy’?”

Jake’s question startled you so much, laughter burst free from your mouth unbidden; you had to tip your head back and close your eyes to let it loose. It was the hardest you’d laughed in a very long time, your body shaking in Jake’s arms and tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

You could feel Jake chuckling right along with you, but when you finally sobered, he’d quieted and was simply looking at you, an emotion in his eyes that was so deep and terrifying it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs.

“You have the best laugh,” Jake muttered seconds before his mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your first kiss with Jake was everything you’d dreamed it would be, your body lighting up and your mind going blank in a combination of delight and arousal. His mouth was warm and soft on yours, the bristles of his goatee tickling your cheeks as your mouths slid together. A giggle rose in your throat and your mouth curved in a smile as giddiness flooded through you.

Then Jake shifted his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your head while the other remained banded around your lower back, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and coaxing a moan from you as he explored the depths of your mouth. Jake’s kiss was heady and all-consuming and you never wanted it to end—you wanted to kiss him forever and ever and ever.

By the time Jake pulled away, your lungs were burning for air and you were left panting, dragging in as much oxygen as you could. He seemed to be in much the same predicament, his chest expanding where you were draped against it, his heart beating wildly beneath where your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt.

“So, you got a bed in that big rig of yours,” you managed to ask, in between panting breaths. “Or are you planning to fuck me right here against your truck?” A cheeky grin curved your lips and you ground your core against Jake again for good measure, making his eyes go dazed and dark. His hands grabbed your ass and held you tight against his bulge while he seemed to freeze.

For a long moment, Jake just stared at you like his brain had short-circuited, and your grin widened at the realization that you’d somehow managed to render your favorite trucker speechless. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to come back online and he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Tangling his fingers with yours, Jake led you around to the driver’s side of his rig and opened the door, helping you up into the cab. You took a quick, cursory look around the inside of Jake’s truck as you moved directly into the backseat, where there was a soft cot covered in a haphazard pile of blankets. The bed was messy and unkempt in a way that made you smile because it just seemed so much like Jake.

Looking around, you noted that the truck cab was warm, and a little cluttered, but cozy in its own way. You’d never actually seen the inside of a long-haul truck despite servicing countless drivers at Diesel Dolls, but everything looked so high tech, you would’ve thought you were in the cockpit of a spaceship. All the dials and controls on the dashboard gave off a soft blue light, including some of the panels in the backseat around Jake’s bed.

When you looked closer, there appeared to be a gaming system and TV rigged up in the back, and you smiled again, imagining your favorite trucker spending his spare time gaming by himself. You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, wondering if Jake might be interested in letting you keep his cock warm while he played his games…

You were distracted from that thought by Jake hauling himself into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. He had a determined look on his face while he locked the truck’s doors, checking to make sure the space was secure before he turned to you in the backseat. The corner of your mouth kicked up in a sultry grin and you leaned back on your hands, pushing your tits out as your jacket parted, revealing the tiny crop top and shorts you wore beneath it.

In the privacy of his truck, Jake let his eyes wander down your body, lingering on the way your nipples pushed through the thin cotton of your shirt. They tightened further under the intensity of his gaze, and your lips parted in a gasping breath as heat blazed between your thighs.

But Jake’s eyes were already moving on, his gaze roving over the curves of your waist and hips and down to the plush softness of your thighs. You could almost feel his gaze like a lingering touch as he looked at your body properly for the first time. If you’d had a chance to feel at all insecure about whether he’d like your curves, the way Jake’s pupils blew wide with lust would’ve quelled it.

Jake spent long moments simply looking at you and, after you’d taken your own moment to get your fill of him before he’d noticed you in the parking lot, you tried to be patient. But the way your body was responding to just Jake’s eyes on you made you squirm on the bed, your thighs falling open of their own accord in a wordless offering for your favorite trucker. Finally, your impatience won out.

“Now that you’ve got me in your truck,” you murmured in a husky purr, smiling seductively when Jake’s eyes met yours again. “What do you plan on doing with me?” You shifted your shoulders, letting your jacket slip down your arms in a way that you hoped was enticing enough to make him want to rip it off you entirely.

Jake’s eyes darted to your bare shoulders then back to your face before he moved from his seat, prowling toward you in a way that looked more predatory than you would’ve expected from your sweet and friendly trucker. The intensity of his gaze on you sent a thrill through your body that only heightened as he eased closer, his hands sliding beneath your jacket to grab your hips roughly.

Holding your gaze captive with his own, Jake eased you down onto your back until you were laying in his bed, his big body covering yours. Your lungs were struggling for air, little panting breaths slipping past your lips as you followed Jake’s lead, a part of you surprised by how easy it was to give in to your favorite trucker’s whims. But you trusted him—you trusted him in a way that was probably unwise, and it occurred to you yet again that being with your trucker could lead to serious trouble for you.

But then you were laying down in Jake’s soft bed, his broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes blocking out the rest of the world, and your worries miraculously faded—helped by the fact that Jake decided to finally answer your question.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, kitten,” Jake rasped, his tone raw with emotion that had your heart racing in your chest.

There was a vulnerability in Jake’s words, and you couldn’t help but reach for him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. A soft smile played at the edges of your mouth, but it deepened when Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed while he nuzzled into your palms. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts enough to continue.

“I’ve thought about getting you in my bed so many times, I can barely believe this is real,” Jake mumbled, the words sounding like they were wrenched straight from his heart. You could feel your own heart thump in response, a little bit of fear trickling through your body that you decided to ignore. “I plan to do everything with you kitten,” Jake murmured, opening his eyes and pinning you with his fervent gaze. “But most of all, I plan to keep you.”

Your breath froze in your lungs at Jake’s pronouncement, and fear flooded your heart. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jake it was impossible—he couldn’t keep you, not while you still worked at Diesel Dolls. Not while Mr. Drysdale still owned you.

Your entire livelihood was dependent on Mr. Drysdale and Diesel Dolls. He was the only one who’d hired you when you’d come to town. And, despite all his faults, Mr. Drysdale paid well—well enough that you could support yourself. If Jake jeopardized your job at Diesel Dolls, you’d have to become dependent on him to take care of you, and you didn’t know yet if he was the kind of man who’d do that, though the part of you that was falling love with him told you that he would.

It surprised you—and scared you—how much you wanted to give your heart and soul and everything to Jake. You yearned for him in a way you never had for any other man. You felt almost desperate for your favorite trucker to be true to his word, to keep you and take care of you and make you his in every possible way.

But you had too much sense to let yourself fall into Jake’s arms completely just yet. So you reminded yourself that your life was not a fairytale, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. No matter how much you might want him to be. Jake was a trucker, and if you knew one thing about truckers, it was that eventually, they always leave. It wasn’t worth risking your entire life for the chance of a happily ever after with him, even if your heart yearned for it.

So, while you wanted to believe Jake meant what he said—that he was going to keep you—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the time you had with him, no matter how brief it would have to be. Pulling him down for a soft kiss, you murmured against his lips.

“Do anything you want with me,” you whispered, eagerly giving your body to your favorite trucker, even as you held back from giving him your heart. “Wanna feel your cock inside me so bad, please, Jake,” you begged, muffling a whimper as you kissed his jaw.

If Jake knew you were holding part of yourself back, he didn’t show it. Instead, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming all over your body, ripping off your jacket and tossing it into the front seat. As his tongue plunged into your mouth, he tugged off the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him before he pulled away to yank his shirt off over his head.

The movement knocked Jake’s glasses askew and you giggled at the sight of him, leaning up to nip at his jaw to stop yourself from calling him cute again. He huffed an impatient laugh and took his glasses off, tucking them into a compartment above your head.

Even in the dim light of the backseat, Jake was still so attractive it took your breath away just looking at him. You couldn’t help yourself from pulling his face close to yours so you could kiss him sweetly.

“So handsome, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, wanting so badly to tell him how much you liked him. You settled for wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your bare core against the bulge in his jeans. “Look so fucking hot with glasses,” you said, pausing only to kiss him again before continuing, “and just as hot without them.”

Jake chuckled huskily, his hips pressing into yours to grind his bulge against your cunt, making you gasp while he kissed along your jaw. “What happened to calling me cute?” he murmured teasingly, nipping at the lobe of your ear and laughing again when you squirmed beneath him.

“You’re still cute,” you admitted on a gasp, humping against Jake from under his large body, trying desperately to get the friction you needed against your sopping wet pussy. “And handsome and hot and—god you’re everything, Jakey,” you cried, your desire driving you to grind harder against him, your body writhing like a cat in heat. “I need you, please!”

“Alright, alright,” Jake rumbled placatingly, easing your hips back down against the bed and untangling your legs from around his hips so he could undo his jeans.

The loss of contact made you whine impatiently, and if need wasn’t blazing through you so hotly you would’ve wondered about what Jake had reduced you to—a needy creature so desperate for him that you were whining—but you didn’t care, you just wanted him. Jake kissed your cheek to mollify you while he fumbled with his jeans.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and taking a deep breath to settle his shaking hands. “I’ve never met a woman who wanted me so bad.”

An anger you didn’t want to analyze too closely surged through your body at Jake’s statement. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you buried your hands in his hair and pressed hot kisses to his cheeks, his temple, his forehead, anywhere you could reach.

“All the women you’ve met are fucking idiots then,” you snarled, tugging Jake’s head to the side so you could kiss down the strong column of his neck. It wasn’t like you to say such things about other women, but you couldn’t even fathom not wanting Jake with a desperation that clawed through your body. Before you could stop yourself, your lips latched onto Jake’s neck and you began sucking on his skin, intent on leaving your mark on your favorite trucker.

“Fuck, jesus fuck,” Jake groaned, shuddering at the feeling of you sucking on his neck. His hands were shaking again, but he managed to push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off as fast as he could manage in the tight confines of the backseat.

Then, finally, his cock was free, and you reached for it eagerly with a familiarity that came from sucking him off so many times in the glory holes at Diesel Dolls. You stroked him with an eagerness like greeting an old friend, reacquainting yourself with the part of Jake’s body you knew best. His cock was just as perfect as always and all the desires you’d felt earlier that night came rushing back.

“Wanna worship your cock with my mouth, Jakey,” you murmured in his ear, your fingers stroking his stiff length slowly, teasingly, pausing briefly to smack your pussy with the tip and making both of your groan in pleasure. “You have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, your lips pressing kisses to Jake’s neck just beneath his ear. “I wanna kiss you and lick you and suck you and make out with your balls, Jakey, god, I could spend hours just playing with your cock.”

Jake’s full body shuddered again, and you smirked against his neck, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of your favorite trucker and feeling yourself get wetter for him. But then Jake was pushing up and tilting his face to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and stilled your hand.

“You have the hottest mouth, kitten,” Jake murmured when he pulled away, his hand cupping your cheek and dragging his thumb over your lower lip.

You sucked his finger into your mouth and bobbed your head a little while staring up at him, hoping he’d see how eager you were and let you move down his body and worship him the way he deserved.

Instead, Jake’s other hand knocked yours away from his cock, fisting himself while you whined and pouted around his thumb. He chuckled, removing his thumb from your mouth so he could kiss you again.

“You can suck me off another time,” he promised, rubbing the tip of his dick between your soaked folds and making you shiver beneath him. “I gotta feel your cunt or I’m gonna go fucking crazy.” His voice lowered to a deep rumble, his words only turning you on more, as impossible as that seemed. “Gotta know if your pussy feels as good as I’ve always imagined.”

“Jakey, please,” you cried breathlessly, digging your knees into his sides and tilting your hips up to try to take his cock into your weeping hole. “Need you, need you,” you mumbled, humping against the tip of Jake’s dick, until a thought crashed into your mind.

You’d never fucked anyone—at Diesel Dolls or in your personal life—without a condom. And you’d never forgotten to ask your partner to put one on. But you’d been about to take Jake’s bare cock into your unprotected cunt without even a second thought.

It was chilling to realize just how much Jake affected you. You froze, your body tensing and pulling away as much as you could when you were laying beneath Jake in the small cot in the backseat of his truck.

Immediately, Jake took notice of your retreat, and he paused above you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, pushing up on his arms so he could see your face fully. There was so much concern in his expression that you had to look away, reflexively shying away from the emotion in his gaze. You stared at his shoulder as you asked a question of your own.

“Do you want to use a condom?” you asked, forcing out the words in a rush, hoping Jake didn’t hear the insecurity in your voice. You knew some men thought you were ‘dirty’ because of your profession—you’d had more than enough of them say as much to your face—so you wanted to give Jake the option in case he later regretted not using protection with you.

The part of you that liked Jake (which was growing by the minute), wanted to believe he didn’t think that way about you. After all, he’d met you in the glory holes at the back of Diesel Dolls, and had made you feel safe and respected even when there was a plywood wall between you. But you knew too well from experience that even if a man knew what you did for work, even if he’d visited you at Diesel Dolls, he might still secretly think of you in a certain way.

So you held your breath, cautious hope in your heart as you waited for Jake’s response to your question.

He blinked once, then twice, his lips parted and his expression adorably confused while he processed your words. He even glanced down your bodies to see his bare cock resting against your pussy, and you weren’t certain what was going through his head, but you desperately wanted to know. When his gaze met yours again, he still looked concerned.

“Do you want to use a condom, kitten?” Jake asked, an anxious note in his tone. “Because I’ll find one if you do.” His eyes searched yours, but you were too stunned to respond because you’d realized something. Something life-altering.

Jake was the only man who ever asked you what you wanted.

Maybe there had been others, long ago, before Diesel Dolls, but if there were, you couldn’t remember them. Jake was the first man in a long time to ask you what you wanted to do, if you wanted to use a condom. An overwhelming and terrifying emotion surged through your body, tying your tongue and rendering you speechless.

Thankfully, Jake’s anxiousness at your silence prompted him to keep talking. He dropped his voice low, his expression going serious as he stared into your eyes.

“If you want to know what I want, I thought I made myself clear earlier,” he rumbled, working his hips in tiny little circles that had his hard length slipping between your drenched folds and grinding lightly against your clit. “I don’t want anything between us—I want all of you, including your hot cunt wrapped around my bare cock.”

A gasp fell from your lips as you tossed your head back, your eyes squeezing shut to quell the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Jakey, yes, I want it—please,” you moaned in a broken, hoarse voice. Heat rose to your cheeks and, despite how turned on you were, you managed to feel a little embarrassed by how much emotion was in your voice when you said his name. Still, you couldn’t help the need you felt, and you pulled him close, feeling like nothing would be close enough.

Jake dug his arms into the bed beneath your back, crushing you to his chest as he shifted his hips, lining up his cock with your hole and beginning to sink in while he shushed you. “I’m right here, kitten, ‘m not going anywhere,” he murmured soothingly in your ear.

Your heart thudded in your chest and you were filled with an uneasy trepidation even as your legs spread wider around Jake’s broad body to take his cock deep into your cunt. You believed Jake. You believed he wasn’t going anywhere, and that scared you. But you didn’t have room in your mind to deal with that fear, not when he was sliding inside you, stretching your pussy to accomodate his thick length and pushing all your worries to the wayside.

“Feel so good, kitten,” Jake rumbled in your ear when he bottomed out inside you. His lips found your neck and kissed your delicate skin, making you whimper for him. “Feels like you were made for me, like you were made to be mine, all mine.” He rocked his hips gently, fucking you in firm, short thrusts that you felt in the depths of your soul.

Jake’s words and the way he was fucking you—like he was making love to you—was too much. You wanted so badly to be his, to let yourself fall in love with him, but you knew it couldn’t be and that knowledge made you so despondent, you felt like you could cry. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so instead you pushed on Jake’s shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back.

He did as you asked, rolling your bodies until he was laying flat on his back and you were straddling his hips, his cock still lodged deep inside you. The ceiling of the truck was high enough that you could sit up, so you did, pushing on Jake’s pecs to put some distance between you and your favorite trucker. You began to ride him with practiced movements, taking the opportunity to watch Jake.

Your favorite trucker looked deliciously devastated beneath you, his blue eyes glazing over as you rose up and sank down on his fat dick. His soft lips were parted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as you worked your hips in tiny circles, clenching down on his length and fucking him like the pro that you were.

Jake stared at you like you were a goddess come to life and he’d be more than happy to bow at your feet, a dazed look of pleasure in his eyes as they roamed over your body. His gaze drifted down from your face, watching your tits bounce for him, then fixating on where your bodies joined. You could feel his gaze everywhere he looked, your body lighting up at his attention, which only made you ride him harder.

“Look so beautiful riding my cock, kitten,” Jake rumbled, seemingly having found his tongue. His hands fumbled over your body, gripping your hips and then your ass like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to touch more, squeezing you anywhere he could. “And you feel so fucking good—fuck, kitten, I want to keep you on my cock forever, just sitting pretty and keeping my cock warm while I’m driving, fuck, even when I’m sleeping.”

“Mm, Jake, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you murmured huskily, planting your hands on his chest and using the leverage to bounce your ass on his cock. You knew from past experience it made men lose their minds, and Jake was no different.

His jaw clenched and his hands pawed at your plush curves, his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a groan that sounded like he was being tortured. “Fuck, fuck, kitten, you feel so fucking good,” Jake rambled, his tongue loosening the closer he got to coming. “Your cunt feels better than I ever could’ve imagined, ‘m gonna come so hard in your pretty little kitty.”

“Do it, Jake,” you urged, even though a part of you didn’t want your first time with Jake to be over so soon. But you knew it was better this way. You’d get him off and make some excuse to leave and you could go home and get yourself off while Jake’s come was still leaking from your pussy. “Fill me up, wanna feel you flood my little hole with your come.”

“Oh fuck,” Jake groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you and fucked up into you so furiously, you would’ve lost your balance if he hadn’t been holding on to you. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect, I—god, I love you, kitten.”

Every muscle in your body froze and you sucked in a sharp gasp at Jake’s confession, your mouth falling open in shock as you stared down at your favorite trucker.

Men had said those words to you before. They’d whispered them into plywood walls while you sucked their cocks and moaned other girls’ names. They’d murmured them into your ear while you gave them a lap dance, promising you jewelry and bigger tips if you broke the rules and let them fuck you. They’d confessed them to you in a bid to keep you in relationships that were toxic.

But you’d never heard them from a man who treated you with as much respect as Jake did. You’d never heard them from a man you wanted to hear them from. And god, you’d wanted Jake to say those words—maybe not so soon, but eventually—because you knew you were falling in love with him. And the fact that he’d said it meant he’d made it real.

And you were fucking terrified.

Even with how close Jake was to coming, he felt the change in you immediately. For a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still hard inside you. As he watched you, you got the distinct impression he could see how scared you were of those three little words he’d said.

Trying to conceal your fear with anger, you contorted your face into a scowl and hissed, “Don’t say that to me.”

Jake sat up at once, one of his arms banding around your back to hold you in place while the other cupped your face, his thumb tilting your chin up so he could pin you in place with the intensity of his gaze.

“Do you think I didn’t mean it?” he asked, his voice gentle and gruff.

With his blue eyes piercing yours, it was difficult to lie, but you managed. “I’m sure you only meant it because I was riding your dick better than any other woman you’ve ever been with,” you spit out with far more bravado than you felt.

Jake’s expression shifted and he almost—almost—looked angry. His grip on your chin tightened, though not anywhere near enough to hurt. His hand was firm, unyielding in a way you’d never seen from Jake before.

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you called me Jakey and told me I have a perfect dick,” he said, his tone daring you to challenge him. “I’ve loved you since before I saw this pretty face for the first time, kitten, and I know you feel something for me, too.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, everything in your body telling you to flee, but Jake was holding you too tight so you huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes at your favorite trucker, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“How d’you know I don’t tell everyone they have a perfect cock?” you asked in a nonchalant tone, your eyes cutting away from Jake’s as you shrugged. “Maybe I tell all my johns that so they’ll tip me better.

Jake’s expression softened, a grin spreading across his face, like he was amused by your antics. “And do you tell all your johns that you fantasize about their cocks while you touch yourself?” Jake asked, his tone almost teasing. “Do you finger yourself while you think about your other johns—or is it just me, kitten?”

Your mind flashed back to earlier that evening when Jake had visited you at the glory holes in Diesel Dolls and you’d been so turned on by him, you’d gotten yourself off while you sucked his cock. You’d never done that before, and you knew it was entirely because you were so attracted to Jake, even when you’d only known his cock. The fact that he was real and handsome and inside you made it impossible to ignore how much you desired him, your body squirming as need crashed through you.

Though you’d barely moved, Jake could feel the way you squirmed in his arms and he chuckled. “Mm, I thought so,” he rumbled, responding like you’d answered his question, which you supposed you had, in a way. He pressed his face close to yours and held you so you were forced to look at him, because he was all you could see. “You don’t need to say the words back to me, kitten,” he murmured, his tone so sweet and gentle, it inexplicably made you want to cry. “But I know you feel it.”

God help you, but Jake was right. You were falling in love with the ridiculous trucker, and it seemed there was nothing you could do about it. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill down your cheeks. It was so tremendously frightening to open your heart to Jake, even when you weren’t thinking about everything in your life that would endeavor to keep you apart. Your throat felt tight with emotion, like you were choking on all the feelings you didn’t want to feel.

“Jakey,” was all you could manage to get past your lips. Thankfully, you didn’t need to say more because Jake covered your mouth with his own, kissing you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs. Your hips squirmed as heat flooded through you, the aching need of having Jake’s cock buried inside you becoming too difficult to ignore.

Instead of letting you ride him more, Jake flipped your bodies until you were pinned beneath his larger one, swallowing your gasp as he began fucking you like he had when you’d first begun, in slow, firm thrusts. When you wrenched your lips from his, gulping down much-needed air, he didn’t let you pull too far away.

“Love it when you call me Jakey, kitten,” he rumbled, in between peppering your face with kisses, his goatee tickling your skin, “’cause I know it means you love me.”

It felt like he was everywhere—his arms holding you tight to his chest, his lips pressing against every inch of your skin he could reach, his thick cock stretching your tight little cunt. He was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you let yourself give in to the moment, crying out, “Jakey, Jakey,” as he fucked you even after what he’d said about it meaning you loved him.

The tip of Jake’s cock hit a spot deep inside you that had you moaning and clenching around him, and he groaned at the feel of your body squeezing his dick. He shifted his position slightly and made sure he hit that spot over and over again, until you felt like you were the one unraveling beneath your favorite trucker.

“That’s it, good girl, take your Jakey’s cock,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear and your neck as he fucked you harder, feeling the way you twitched with pleasure in his arms. “Look so fucking gorgeous creaming on my cock—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and you’re all fucking mine, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, willing your lips to say yes, but all you could manage was a litany of your favorite trucker’s name, crying “Jakey, Jakey, Jakey.” You could feel the pleasure in your body coiling tight, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before Jake made you come. It felt better than you ever imagined, being with him, and you wanted it to last forever.

You could feel Jake’s smirk against your cheek and then his face was hovering above yours, his blue eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had blown with arousal. It made him look nothing like the friendly trucker you’d met in the parking lot, but you wouldn’t trade in this unleashed side of Jake for anything. He wasn’t cute anymore, but he was so scorching hot, you thought you might come just from the way he was looking at you like you were his whole world.

“You gonna come, kitten?” he asked, his lightly teasing words at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you, his cock pounding into that delicious spot deep inside your cunt, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit every time he bottomed out inside you. “Gonna come all over the cock of the man who loves you? Gonna let the man who loves you come deep in your perfect cunt?”

Jake’s words were your undoing. The tension in your body snapped as your release crashed over you, pleasure consuming every part of your being as you screamed your trucker’s name, “Jakey!” Your body trembled, your hands fumbling against Jake’s shoulders as you tried to cling to him, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Jake muttered, his hips rutting into you as he chased his own release while drawing yours out. “Ya look so fucking pretty coming on my cock, kitten—the prettiest girl in the world, gonna make me come, gonna make me come so hard your tight, perfect pussy.” He captured your lips in a kiss, breaking away a moment later to grunt, “Fuck, fuck, you’re mine, kitten, all fucking mine.”

You felt Jake’s hips stutter against yours and then he pressed deep. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was flooding your pussy with his come, that thought making you moan deliriously. You pulled Jake down for a messy, sloppy kiss as you rode out your releases together, your cunt clenching around his cock to milk every drop of his seed into your pussy.

You writhed together for so long that Jake began to shudder from the overstimulation, and he collapsed on top of you, forcing you to stop while he moaned in your ear. Even still, you kept your legs hooked around his waist, refusing to let him go. His heavy weight was crushing you a little, but you didn’t mind as you stroked your fingertips up and down hi spine.

Eventually, both of you settled, and Jake rolled onto his side, dragging you with him. He hitched your leg over his hip to keep your bodies connected, seemingly just as reluctant as you were to pull away from where you were joined together.

But the realities of the world burrowed back into your mind, reminding you that no matter how much Jake loved you—and no matter how much you were falling in love with him—any relationship between the two of you was an impossibility.

If Mr. Drysdale found out you’d fucked one of the truckers that comprised Diesel Dolls’ clientele, there would be consequences. Even if you weren’t fired, you didn’t want to learn what punishment Mr. Drysdale would come up with to make sure you never saw Jake again. There’d be no way for you to have a relationship with your favorite trucker, even a secret one, since secrets had a way of coming out at Diesel Dolls.

Once you’d caught your breath and thoroughly freaked yourself out with your thoughts about the consequences of your actions, you sighed softly and began to extricate yourself from Jake. “I should go,” you murmured, but the moment you tried to pull away, Jake pulled you in tighter against his chest. There was a light dusting of hair coving his pecs and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into the warmth and fuzziness of him.

Jake chuckled. “Do you really think I’m done with you already, kitten?” he asked teasingly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve wanted to get you in my arms and on my cock for months,” he said, his dick twitching inside you as he began to harden again. “I’m not letting you go just yet.” He nudged your face up to look at him, a little bit of vulnerability swirling in his blue eyes as he whispered, “Stay the night. Please.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way Jake said ‘please’, like he would be heartbroken if you didn’t stay. At that moment, you realized just how much trouble you were in. It would break your heart to hurt Jake, but there was no way things didn’t end with one of you hurting the other. Either you’d hurt Jake by choosing your job over him or he’d hurt you by leaving. It was an impossible situation.

Jake seemed to sense your reluctance, and he kissed you softly, putting his heart into the slide of his lips against yours. “Let me take care of you, kitten,” he murmured.

You knew he was referring to sex, but a part of you suspected he meant more than that, too. You sucked in a soft gasp, wanting to believe he really wanted to take care of you, all of you, all of the time. But it was so difficult to believe. If you gave yourself to Jake fully, he’d have to really take care of you, forever. And you didn’t know if he was willing or capable of that.

It wasn’t like Jake was some sort of prince charming who’d whisk you off your feet and carry you off into the sunset. This was real life, and he was a trucker. One day he’d leave, and, odds were, he wouldn’t be taking you with him. It wasn’t like he was asking you to let him take care of you for the rest of your life.

But if all he was asking for was one night, you could give him that. It was only one night, after all.

“Ok,” you murmured, kissing Jake sweetly, twining your fingers in his blond hair and rocking your body against his, fucking yourself on his cock. “I’m yours for tonight, Jakey.”

You could feel Jake’s grin against your lips, and feel his happiness in the way he squeezed you tight. His elation was heady and you almost got lost in it, imagining yourself leaving with Jake when he went back out on the road.

You pictured Jake rescuing you from Mr. Drysdale, fighting for you when your boss from Diesel Dolls inevitably protested you leaving. You imagined fitting perfectly into Jake’s life as a trucker, and eventually becoming his sweet little wife. You imagined being his princess while he was your prince charming.

But it was all a fantasy, and you knew that. You weren’t some princess locked in a tower by a wicked witch, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. But for one night, you could pretend. What harm could it do.

trucker king masterlist

#jake jensen #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #trucker jake jensen #jake jensen x you #jake jensen imagine #jake jensen fluff #jake jensen au #trucker au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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knife’s edge // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, implied age gap, dub-con, punishment and reward system, power play, dom/sub relationship, blowjob, fingering, begging, hair pulling, degradation, mentions of violence and injuries, spanking, facial, belt whipping, praise kink, face fucking

wc ⇢ 6.7k

a/n: i am not happy with this one at all

The inky blackness of night cloaked the abandoned factory district in deep shadow, the dim glow of the waxing moon filtering through shattered panes of grimy glass offering little illumination. Your ragged breaths echoed sharply in the cavernous silence, each rapid footfall sending plumes of dust and grit swirling into the still air in your wake.

You risked a frantic glance over your shoulder, heart hammering a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. The curse's formless shape undulated through the gloom behind you with horrific, boneless grace—an amorphous mass of writhing miasma capped with wicked curved appendages that scraped in screeching arcs against the cracked concrete hallway with each slithering surge forward. Jagged claws of solidified cursed energy aimed to ensnare, tear, and rend any flesh within reach.

A fleeting memory sliced through your mind's frenzied whirl — Gojo's voice carrying that unmistakable lilt of teasing amusement as he'd drawled something about being on your "best behavior" during this training exercise. His smug confidence had rankled you at the time, fueling your burning desire to prove yourself more than a bumbling student constantly needing rescue from their mentor.

But now, harsh reality crashed through those foolish delusions in waves of cold, jagged terror. You were hopelessly outmatched and ill-prepared for confronting this particular curse born of manifested nightmares. Its presence alone incited paralytic dread laced with a phantom ache of crushing loneliness echoing from some primal depth. Heedless of the stunted whimpers tumbling from your trembling lips, it closed in with relentless, inexorable hunger.

You redoubled your pace, lower legs shrieking with the exertion of maintaining your panicked sprint. Up ahead, the hallway fractured off into a labyrinth of shadowed corridors and forsaken antechambers. Fighting the icy lances of panic penetrating your frantic thoughts, you arbitrarily flung yourself down the second passageway on the left, restraining a scream as the curse's barbed tendrils whipped around the corner in pursuit.

How had you allowed yourself to be lured so far from the staging area where Gojo awaited your safe return? Stupid, stupid overconfidence. Surely he would berate your rashness before grudgingly coming to your aid...if you survived this ordeal long enough to earn his scorn. You swallowed back a hiccuping sob at that grim prospect, legs pumping harder in sheer desperation.

When the next turn presented itself, you instinctively banked hard to the right, hurtling through the decrepit doorway of what appeared to be some kind of dilapidated manager's office. Dim moonlight filtered through the filth-streaked windows, casting the skeletal shapes of rusted desks and chairs in stark silhouette across the debris-littered floor.

You twisted in mid-sprint, fruitlessly hurling the few feeble cursed tools you'd had on your person towards the curse as it rapidly filled the doorway. Their meager defenses ricocheted off a shimmering barrier the curse erected with mocking ease. Your breath sawed from your lungs in panicked bursts as those razor-tipped appendages sliced through the space you'd just occupied, sending shreds of plaster and splintered wood exploding in all directions.

There was nowhere left to run. In blind panic, you scrambled backwards on your hands and feet as the curse's oozing grotesquerie filled the open doorframe, blocking any hope of escape.

Suddenly, something sharp and unyielding sliced into the meat of your palm, causing you to cry out in pained surprise. You looked down to see the jagged remains of some kind of metal pole or rebar protruding from the crumbling floorboards—the very shrapnel strewn across the office that your desperate retreat had led you straight into.

The unforgiving shard of rebar punched clean through the soft center of your hand in a blossoming spiral of agony and blood. Your scream hitched in your constricted throat as scorching lances of whitehot pain lanced up your arm. Tears blurred your vision, leaving the curse's steadily encroaching form obscured and wavering in your sight.

The twisted groaning of stressed metal snapped your gaze downward just as the compromised floor buckled beneath your weight, splitting like a crumpled Jenga tower along the lines of its pre-existing fractures. The gore-slicked rebar came suddenly free from its entrapment with a meaty slurping sound, pitching you backwards as your already precarious perch vanished from beneath you.

You plummeted in a dizzying freefall, the decrepit office warping and careening away above you in smears of grey and brown and black. Instinctively you flung out your arms, mouth gaping in a soundless scream as you plunged downwards into the bottomless unknown of the abandoned factory's shadowed depths.

Time itself seemed to unravel into surreal slow-motion as your trajectory carried you into the diffuse path of moonlight slanting through a shattered window high above. Silver-edged debris tumbled alongside you—jagged splinters of wood and twisted scraps of metal glinting like macabre confetti amid the freeze-framed droplets of your blood blossoming in faint crimson blurs.

Then, with a violent percussion of displaced air, something rocketed into you from the side—a solid, immense force that knocked what little breath remained from your lungs in a strangled wheeze. Powerful arms like bands of steel locked around your torso, violently arresting your plummet as your failed to process what was happening.

Head spinning, vertigo graying the edges of your vision, you dimly became aware of the world blurring past in streaks of shadow and dim light as you swung in an upward arc, abruptly changing trajectories with dizzying velocity. The whiplash intense enough to make you cry out hoarsely as cold panic lanced through you anew.

Just as abruptly, the disorienting rush of movement slammed to a boneshaking halt, your body folding in on itself with the force of the deceleration. You found yourself crushed against a solid plane of warmth and wiry muscle, every nerve ending screaming in protest as your savior's bruising embrace constricted tighter around your ribcage. The guttural growl rumbling through the steel-banded arms holding you immobile reverberated straight into your rattled bones.

"Dammit, girl—you make trouble follow you around like a hellhound on a scent trail, don't you?"

The familiar, sardonic drawl finally pierced the roaring in your ears. Gojo's distinctive smokey timbre ignited a fresh surge of tremors— though born of relief rather than mortal terror this time. You sagged bonelessly against his chest, quaking with reaction as the abyss you'd narrowly avoided plunging into slowly reasserted itself in your reeling awareness.

Gojo simply held you pinned flush against him, stance braced with preternatural solidity despite the physical feat of force he'd just exerted. With your face pressed into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, his unique scent of sandalwood and citrus enveloped you in a cloak of reassurance. You clung to that steadying anchor desperately as you struggled to rein in your haywire senses.

He seemed content to allow you that reprieve, not bothering to immediately extricate himself as the pounding of both your thunderous heartbeats gradually subsided to a more measured cadence. At last, when you'd stopped trembling quite so violently, Gojo shifted infinitesimally—just enough to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up towards his.

"Y'know, when I said to be on your best behavior, I didn't mean to go seeking out new and perilous ways to get yourself killed on my watch, bad girl."

Gojo's voice still maintained that undercurrent of sardonic cool, but you detected the faintest hints of...something else bleeding through. An edge of anxious relief perhaps, buried beneath the outward mask of nonchalant irreverence he always wore. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw with maddening tenderness at odds with his tart rebuke, sending your pulse into a frenzied gallop once more.

"Gojo-sensei, I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, scarcely daring to draw breath too deeply in his embrace for fear of surrendering to the urge to bury your face against his neck and simply exist in that space for a thousand reassuring moments. "I got overconfident and careless and put myself in danger by wandering off. You were right, as usual, and I—"

He cut off your self-flagellating apology with a gruff tsk, index finger pressing firmly against your parted lips. "Hush now. I can already see those pretty eyes filling with crocodile tears that will make me go all soft and stupid again."

The sardonic smirk he flashed you ignited a spark of bristling indignance in your chest—but it was a welcome reprieve from the icy terror currently waning through your system. Gojo's gaze roved downwards, searing gaze flickering over you in a blatant sweep from head to toe. Whatever he saw in his obscenely casual inspection made his jawline tense perceptibly.

"Looks like our little curse didn't take too kindly to you wandering off the beaten path either," he remarked, deceptively mild drawl betrayed by the subtle edge of strain hardening the words.

You followed the weighted path of his hawkish regard to where the tattered remnants of your uniform clung in bloodied tatters, entire swaths torn away to reveal expanses of gashed and rapidly-purpling flesh glistening with crimson. A vivid flush bloomed across your cheeks as you hastily sought to cover yourself, hissing as the incidental movement tugged at your lacerated skin.

Gojo clucked his tongue again, more chidingly this time. "Easy there, slugger. Let's not go scrambling around until we get those battle scars properly dressed."

Before you could protest, Gojo was moving again - shifting his grip to cradle you securely against his chest with one arm while his free hand extended outward, palm glowing with an ethereal purple luminescence.

One disorienting transition of vertigo later and the ruined factory surroundings had been replaced by a cozily appointed interior.

The incongruously homey space you now found yourself in appeared to be some kind of living quarters - though imbued with distinctly more luxury and refined appointments than the standard student dormitories would allow.

Rich hardwood floors were covered in plush area rugs of deep crimson. The walls were adorned with elegant-yet-minimal furnishings and intricately patterned tapestries in jewel tones suggesting an Eastern influence. Various artifacts - porcelain vases, statuettes, and inscribed metal wall-hangings - were interspersed with a few strategic pops of color and indirect lighting to cultivate an ambiance of cultivated tranquility.

"Comfortable?" The rumbling baritone against your ear made you start slightly as Gojo carried you towards what appeared to be a bedroom sectioned off by opaque partitioning screens.

You opened your mouth to reply, but any words withered on your tongue when he shifted his hold to deposit you with infinite care atop the bed - as though you were the most precious of fragile burdens. The sheets were a sleek dusky charcoal hue offset by the warm burnished glow of brass lamps casting flattering illumination across the space.

Gojo crouched in one fluid, boneless motion beside where you lay, all lazy power and effortless masculine grace barely restrained beneath that veneer of irreverent cool. His gaze was immediately drawn to the sluggishly bleeding gashes marring your exposed skin, sharp azure irises hooded beneath lowered lashes.

"Let's get you decent first, hmm?" He lilted in that sinfully smooth timbre, already working to divest you of the tattered remnants of clothing still clinging to your mangled form.

You flushed hotly, opening your mouth to offer token protest, but his pointed look swiftly quelled any objections before they could sound.

"Don't get shy on me now, pretty girl. I've already copped an eyeful of everything you've got thanks to that curse taking talons to your outfit." One corner of his lush mouth quirked upwards in that irresistible smirk that never failed to spark a flicker of defiance in your core. "Might as well make the most of the situation, neh?"

With deft efficiency and hands belying an almost reverent delicacy, Gojo stripped you down to your bared skin, blatantly allowing his piercing gaze to map every purpling contusion and seeping laceration in the process. You remained motionless, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of shattering this suspended reality into shards of mortified embarrassment and pining desire.

Gojo clicked his tongue in a noise of disapproval as his inspection catalogued the extent of your injuries. His thumb traced the lurid weal of a deep gash carving across your ribcage, featherlight and ghosting over the sensitive abraded skin but eliciting a shuddering exhalation from your parted lips all the same.

"Such a mess you've made of yourself, babygirl," he chided in a low, dark purr that seemed to resonate straight through the shallow surface of your flesh and delve molten paths into the viscera below. "Clumsy, clumsy girl wandering off and courting disaster like it's a favored lover. Maybe you need reminding why it's safer to stay close...and who exactly you belong to."

Gojo stood and moved across the room, giving you a momentary reprieve from the heated intensity of his presence. You watched him retrieve a wooden basin and an array of glass jars and cloth wrappings, absently tracing your fingers over the stark patterns of blooming bruises and lacerations. Though the sting of your injuries still pulsed in time with your elevated heartbeat, it felt muted somehow - a distant discomfort overshadowed by the lingering warmth of Gojo's touch and his dark, heated words still reverberating through your mind.

When he returned to your side and crouched on the plush rug once more, you couldn't help but tense slightly at his proximity. Gojo's lips curved in an inscrutable half-smile, as if privy to the chaotic whirl of your thoughts. Dipping a clean cloth into the basin of herbal-scented water he had prepared, he began gently sponging away the streaks of blood and grime from your abused skin with meditative focus.

"You know," he began conversationally, breaking the weighted quiet between you. "I had a feeling assigning you to run solo for this particular exercise was inviting disaster." His gaze remained fixed on his ministrations, calloused fingertips brushing featherlight over the shredded gashes scoring your abdomen as he cleaned each one with almost ritualistic care.

"You've always had a penchant for acting first and regretting the consequences later." Gojo's tone was a strange blend of wry affection and pointed reproof. "That wild spirit and impulsive bravery are what make you such a marvel to train...but they're also what consistently lands you in hot water requiring my intervention."

You wanted to protest, to insist that this time you had been cautious and level-headed right up until the curse overwhelmed you so unexpectedly. But the words shriveled up unspoken on your tongue as memories of your rash overconfidence resurfaced with a flush of shame. Gojo was right, as infuriatingly often seemed to be the case when he turned that penetrating stare and spark of dark wisdom upon you.

"I cannot even begin to fathom what could possess an otherwise reasonably bright girl to forsake all her training at the first sign of danger," he continued, words hardening into a disapproving rasp. You flinched inwardly, knowing the scolding was deserved but still bristling at being spoken down to like a petulant child.

Gojo's touch stilled abruptly, his thumb and forefinger capturing your chin in an uncompromisingly firm grasp that forced your gazes to lock. The vivid azure of his eyes bored into you with searing intensity from beneath his silvery lashes, commanding your rapt focus.

"Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you tonight?" His words emerged in a gravelly undertone that seemed to reverberate somewhere deeper than mere sound.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke over your stillborn attempt with quiet yet immutable authority. "Too close. Far too close for comfort, little one."

Gojo's thumb traced the plush arc of your lower lip with deliberate reverence, the blistering heat of his touch raising delicious sparks of sensation despite its apparent innocuity. "I don't take kindly to situations where I am mere inches from watching light fade from those gorgeous eyes of yours. Do you understand me?"

Any residual defiance flickered and died beneath the scorching promise of intent blazing behind the shrouded azure regard holding you hostage. All you could manage was a tremulous inhale and the barest fraction of a nod in acknowledgment.

Something indecipherable flashed across Gojo's expression - both a subtle easing of the taut line of his jaw and a perceptible deepening of the shadows clouding his eyes. His hand slid from your chin to cup the back of your neck, fingertips lightly caressing the sensitive skin as he pulled you forward until the briefest whisper of distance remained between your brow and his.

"Let this be a lesson to you then," he murmured in a voice rendered incalculably darker by its lowered register. "Stay close to me from now on where you belong, understood? No more foolish detours or reckless stunts serving only to test my stamina in constantly retrieving you from harm."

You found yourself mesmerized, lashes fluttering in a hapless series of blinks as his breath fanned warmly over your parted lips. There was simply no other response than a breathily murmured, "Yes, Gojo-sensei. I understand."

The barest ghost of a smile - one of grim satisfaction rather than mirth - curved the edges of his sinful mouth. "Good girl."

The heavy-lidded intensity of Gojo's gaze seemed to scorch straight through to your very core as the silence stretched taut between you. His thumb traced idle patterns along the racing flutter of your pulse just beneath your jawline, touch tantalizingly light yet possessive all the same. You shivered at the implication behind such a disarmingly tender caress coming from your mentor.

"You test me at every turn, don't you, my pretty thing?" The words emerged in a low, molten rumble tinged with thinly veiled exasperation and something infinitely darker—a banked smolder of bone-deep desire he made little effort to conceal. "Never quite able to simply mind your place and stay obediently out of harm's way, constantly seeking new ways to throw yourself into the line of danger until I'm forced to intervene..."

His fingers trailed lazily down the sloped column of your throat, following the racing thrum of your pulse until his palm settled in a burned brand over the thundering cadence of your heart. You couldn't help the tremulous hitch of your breath as his calloused thumb grazed the swell of your breast, the barest suggestion of weight behind the touch.

Gojo's eyes glittered mercurial beneath the fan of his silvery lashes as he watched your response with rapt attentiveness, gauging your reaction to his calculated escalation. You were pinned motionless beneath the heated intensity of his undivided focus - the blazing epicenter of a storm waiting to break.

When he spoke again, his graveled baritone had lowered a ruinous register, each dark rumble seeming to sear across your feverish skin like a scorching caress unto itself.

"I'm sorely tempted to finally take you firmly in hand once and for all, babygirl. To show you exactly what lies in store each time you defy me so recklessly and necessitate my...intervention." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, delicious suggestion laced through the subtle rasp of hardened fingertips grazing the taut bud beneath the thin fabric covering you.

Your spine arched in an involuntary bow of pleasure-edged shockwaves, a broken whimper falling from your lips before you could bite it back. Gojo watched the display of responsiveness with naked hunger flickering across his austere features.

"Yes...that's what you crave, isn't it?" He mused in that same sinful, smoke-ruined tone that seemed to curl molten tendrils of liquid heat low in your belly. "My undivided attention and reprimand for each infraction, each reckless display where you've failed to heed my instruction..."

Gradually, with agonizing deliberation, Gojo shifted to loom over you with coiled dominance thrumming through every steel-banded muscle. His free hand traced a scorching path down your torso, insistent fingertips hooking beneath the thin fabric at your hip and exerting gentle but implacable pressure.

"But such willful disobedience cannot go entirely unpunished, can it?" He purred, pupils dilating as his gaze raked over your form with incandescent hunger. "Not if you're to finally learn some modicum of discipline and self-control..."

With deft surety, Gojo relieved you of the final scant covering as his sinful lips curved in a lush, dangerous smile. A fraught moment of charged suspension stretched between you as his reverent gaze roamed freely over the newly bared flesh. Then, with infinite tenderness at odds with his thunderous promise, he cradled you against the scorching plane of his chest and lowered you back to the plush bedding in one fluid motion.

"Perhaps a few lashes from my belt are in order for the way you've acted out, my willful little girl," Gojo rumbled as he braced himself above you, gaze devouring the way your thighs reflexively parted for his settling weight. "And you will count each one aloud and thank me for it, won't you?"

Your lips parted in a soft gasp at the sheer filthiness of his implication. Your pulse thundered so loudly you were certain he could hear the erratic drumming. Yet, with a heady thrill of realization, you discovered that you didn't want to resist - didn't have the strength of will left to resist him in this.

Gojo's hand slipped beneath the sleek fall of your hair, fingers curling around the back of your neck in a deceptively light but immovable grasp. The gesture was an unspoken command, an assertion of control that demanded your total surrender.

"Say it, kitten." The words emerged with the softness of a blade honed razor-sharp. "Tell me how badly you need to be taught some much-needed obedience...or else we'll simply have to continue these exercises until the lesson sticks."

Your breath shuddered from your lungs, eyes fluttering closed as a delicious shudder rippled through your entire body. It took all your remaining shreds of willpower not to arch into the heated cradle of his hips already settling against the apex of your thighs.

"Please, Gojo-sensei," you finally managed, voice quavering with need. "Teach me a lesson. Punish me until I've learned my place..."

A soft exhalation escaped Gojo, half-swallowed by the faint rustle of the bedsheets. His grip on your nape tightened fractionally as his other hand slid down the slope of your ribcage and across the dip of your waist.

You were powerless to resist the slow roll of his hips - the delicious pressure grinding against your exposed core in a way that made your lashes flutter with dizzying pleasure.

"My good girl," Gojo praised with a wicked glint in his azure gaze. "Now let's see how long you can keep up the obedient act before you're begging me to stop, hmm?"

With a sly, predatory grin, Gojo rolled off of you to stand, leaving your body buzzing with anticipation and the phantom heat of his weight pinning you. You lay there, breathless and quivering, as his fingers flicked open the clasp of his belt with a metallic snap.

"You remember the rules, don't you, kitten?" Gojo rumbled, leisurely tugging the belt from its loops with a sinuous slide of leather and metal. "No counting or pleading until the very end, or else I'll start over."

He stepped towards the edge of the bed, looming over you in a manner both protective and menacing. Your pulse spiked into a rapid tattoo as the coiled length of leather whispered through his palm in an anticipatory slide.

"Spread your legs and arch that ass up for me like a good girl," he instructed. "You've earned a good punishment for nearly getting yourself killed, haven't you?"

The words sparked a jolt of hot shame deep within you, but that only fanned the flames of your desire. Your body reacted before you could think to deny his command, thighs parting and hips canting upward until the vulnerable curve of your rear was bared and presented to him.

"That's it, my perfect little toy," Gojo crooned, the soft sibilance of his words underscored by the telltale shift of leather and metal in his grip. "You've always been such a good listener, haven't you?"

A tremor rippled through your muscles, the instinctive flinch of anticipation, and a ragged whimper tore from your throat when the first blow landed with a deafening crack. You bit down on the knuckle of your thumb to silence the cry, a futile bid to restrain the sound.

"No no no, pretty girl," Gojo chided, his low baritone rife with dark amusement. "Those sounds belong to me. Let them out."

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to deny him, even though you knew it was impossible. His free hand settled in a proprietary weight between your shoulder blades, pressing your upper torso flush against the mattress.

"Don't be stubborn now, kitten," Gojo chastised, voice a husky purr as the leather of his belt slid across the abused skin of your ass. "You know the rules...and I'm going to make you scream those numbers for me."

The leather snapped again, a blistering stripe of searing agony lancing across your exposed flesh. The cry ripped from your throat sounded foreign and primal, and you were suddenly grateful for the muffling effect of the thick bedding.

"Count." Gojo's tone brooked no argument.

"Two." You managed the word past gritted teeth, hands fisting the sheets with white-knuckled force.

"Good girl," Gojo purred, the sound rich and honeyed as the cool leather whispered over your abused skin. "Let's try for three, hmm?"

A third searing swat landed, and then a fourth. Each one wrung another pained cry from your lips and brought your hips straining against the restraining hold of his palm.

"Five," you gasped, barely registering the tear that slipped down your cheek. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."

The next lash was gentler than the ones before it, but no less effective in eliciting a breathless gasp and a shudder of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"S-six," you stammered, barely able to string the syllables together.

"You're doing so well, baby," Gojo murmured, his words a soothing rumble that belied the merciless sting of leather as he brought the belt down across your flesh once more.

You lost count of the swats, each one a searing brand and yet an exquisite pleasure in its own right. With every number that fell from your lips in a broken sob, your thighs slickened further with a shameful gush of wetness. You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the press of his palm between your shoulder blades, grounding and comforting and unbearably hot.

"Shh, sweet girl, it's almost over," he murmured, his voice a velvet purr that seemed to seep beneath your skin and burrow into the core of you. "Just a few more. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," you whimpered, tears slipping free despite your efforts to stop them. "I can do it, Gojo-sensei."

His chuckle was a dark rumble. "My good, obedient little girl. Always eager to please, aren't you?"

His hand moved from between your shoulder blades to stroke gently along your flank, fingers tracing idle patterns across the bruises marring your flesh. A sharp contrast to the stinging burn still radiating through your abused flesh.

"Are you ready for the last one?" He asked, the question almost playful.

"Yes." You breathed the word, the single syllable a soft exhale.

"That's my girl," Gojo murmured, his approval warming the pit of your stomach. "Let's see if we can make this one really count, shall we?"

The leather snapped against your ass in a devastating strike, eliciting a cry that was half pleasure, half pain. Your thighs trembled as your back arched, body instinctively seeking more contact with the unyielding surface of his palm.

"Seven." The word came out sounding more like a moan.

Gojo's hand smoothed over the abused flesh of your ass, his touch maddeningly gentle and yet still stoking the flames of desire within you. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers teased the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, the feather-light touch eliciting sparks of heat along your spine.

"There, there," he murmured, the words a dark rasp that sent shivers through you. "I think that's enough punishment for now, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you breathed, your voice sounding foreign to your ears.

"Good girl." His fingers ghosted over your slickened folds, teasingly light and yet eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"But if you want to earn the privilege of a reward, you're going to have to earn it first," he continued, his words a low growl that reverberated straight through you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb traced slow circles around your clit, the sensation sending tendrils of molten heat coiling through you. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you, or the way your hips bucked against his touch, seeking more friction.

"I'm not hearing a yes, kitten," he chided, the words a dark purr.

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you managed, the words coming out in a breathy whisper.

His fingers teased your entrance, dipping just barely into the slickness gathering there. A low groan escaped him, the sound reverberating through your body.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me, aren't you?" He growled, his voice a low rasp. "All spread out and aching for me to fill you up, aren't you, babygirl?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei." You repeated the phrase like a mantra, unable to form any other coherent thoughts as his fingers curled inside you.

"Look at you, taking my fingers like such a good little slut," he murmured, the words punctuated by the wet sounds of him pumping his digits in and out of you.

You couldn't help the way your hips rocked against his touch, the sensation eliciting sparks of pleasure along your spine. Your back arched, thighs trembling as you sought more friction.

"That's it, take it all," he urged, his voice a low rumble. "Feel how tight you're gripping me, baby. So wet and desperate for me, aren't you?"

"Please," you whined, the word emerging as a broken plea. "I need more, Gojo-sensei. Please."

"Such a needy little slut," he chuckled, the sound sending shivers through you.

He removed his fingers, eliciting a whimper of protest from you, before his palm came down hard on the already abused flesh of your ass, the resounding slap echoing through the room.

"Up," he commanded, the word a rough bark.

You scrambled to obey, limbs shaky as you pushed yourself upright. Your thighs were slick with your own arousal, a sight that only intensified the burn of humiliation. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your throat, a combination of humiliation and desire.

Gojo stood in front of you, his pants unbuttoned and his cock fully erect. The sight was enough to make your mouth water, but he seemed determined to draw this out, his expression an inscrutable mask as he appraised you.

"On your knees," he commanded, the words a low growl.

You sank to your knees before him, the movement sending a jolt of pain through your ass as it came into contact with the plush rug. His cock was mere inches from your face, the tip glistening with precum. Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth watering as you took in the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, the words a low rumble.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, fingers curling around the base of his cock. He let out a low groan as you stroked him, the sound sending shivers through you. He was rock hard, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as you felt the weight of him in your palm.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words a low rumble.

You opened your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock. He tasted musky and salty, and you couldn't help the way your body responded, a rush of heat pooling between your thighs. You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. His hips bucked forward, and you nearly choked, but managed to steady yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low rasp. "That's it, baby. Just like that."

Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft, reveling in the feel of him filling your mouth. Your jaw ached, but you didn't care, lost in the sensation of him. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fucked your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You swallowed him down, moaning around his length.

"Shit," he cursed, his voice a guttural growl. "You're so fucking good at this, aren't you, slut?"

The words sent a thrill of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but whimper in agreement. You wanted him to keep talking, wanted to hear him praise you, wanted to hear him degrade you. His cock pulsed in your mouth, and you knew he was close.

"Gonna come," he growled, the words a harsh rasp.

He pulled out, his cock springing free from your mouth with a wet pop. Your eyes widened as he pumped himself in his fist, the sight of his swollen, leaking cock almost enough to make you come undone.

"Beg for it," he commanded with a low snarl.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whimper. "Please, Gojo-sensei. Please come on my face."

"Fuck," he swore, the word a guttural growl.

You closed your eyes as he came, warm spurts of cum landing on your cheeks and lips. You licked your lips, the taste of him bitter and salty. You couldn't help but whimper as his seed trickled down your face, his musky scent invading your nostrils.

"Clean it up," he ordered, the words a low growl.

You complied, using your fingers to scoop the mess from your cheeks and licking it from your fingertips. The action only seemed to arouse him further, and his cock twitched in response. You couldn't help the moan that escaped you, the sight of his renewed erection sending a rush of heat through you.

"On the bed," he commanded, his voice a rough rasp.

You scrambled to comply, the ache of your bruised and battered body momentarily forgotten in the anticipation of what was to come. Your legs trembled as you climbed onto the bed, spreading them wide for him. Your pussy throbbed, the feeling only intensifying as you watched him step out of his pants and stalk towards you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"So needy," he purred, the words a low rumble.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he knelt between your legs, his gaze raking over your exposed body. You felt like an offering, a sacrifice laid out for him to devour. His cock was hard and swollen, and you couldn't help but writhe beneath him, desperate for him to fill you.

"Patience, kitten," he murmured, the words a dark chuckle.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the tender flesh as he dragged you closer. Your skin tingled at the sensation, the anticipation nearly overwhelming. He lined his cock up with your entrance, the tip pressing against your slickened folds.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathless whisper.

He leaned over you, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours. You could feel his breath against your skin, the heat of him making your pulse race. You ached for him, the empty void within you seeming to expand until it threatened to swallow you whole.

"What do you want, kitten?" He murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Fuck me, Gojo-sensei," you whimpered, the words emerging as a strangled moan.

He pushed into you, his cock filling you up in one swift thrust. You gasped, the sensation nearly enough to send you over the edge. His cock stretched you open, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure through you. You arched into him, your hips grinding against his as he began to move inside you.

"So fucking tight," he growled, the words a low rumble.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you. His hips rolled against yours, the friction sending bolts of electricity through you. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned against his mouth, his tongue exploring yours.

"Come for me," he commanded, the words a ragged order.

You cried out, the pleasure ripping through you as you came undone beneath him. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed into you. The sound of skin against skin was a symphony, the feel of him moving within you almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, kitten," he growled, his voice a husky rasp.

His hips jerked as he spilled inside you, his release sending you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. You clung to him, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you'd never experienced before. Your entire body shuddered, your muscles clenching around his cock as you milked every last drop of his cum.

"Fuck," he groaned, his cock slipping out of you with a wet squelch.

You whimpered at the loss, the feeling of him leaving you making you want more. You could feel his seed leaking out of you, trickling down the insides of your thighs before you felt the telltale trickle of wetness. The realization that he'd made you squirt was nearly enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm.

"You're a mess, kitten," he purred, the words a dark chuckle.

His fingers traced the rivulets of wetness on the insides of your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through you. The bedsheets were soaked beneath you, your juices and his cum mingling in a puddle of filth. The sight only served to arouse him further, and his cock twitched, already half-hard again.

"So messy," he murmured, the words a husky rasp.

He reached up, tracing a finger through the mess of his cum and your juices on your cheeks. You whimpered as he brought the digit to your lips, the taste of him making you crave more. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, the weight of it a welcome sensation. You sucked on it, savoring the flavor of him.

"Fuck, that's hot," he growled, his cock already fully erect again. But he knew your body couldn't take it, not after everything he'd put you through.

He rolled off of you, and you immediately missed the heat of his weight on top of you. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You sighed, the feel of his skin against yours sending shivers through you. His cock pressed against your ass, and you couldn't help but grind back against him, eager for more.

"Greedy little slut," he murmured, the words a rough chuckle. "Stay still. I’m trying to take care of you."

He pulled the blankets over the two of you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. Your muscles ached, and the bruises and welts on your skin throbbed, but you didn't care. The exhaustion and pain were a distant afterthought, overshadowed by the euphoric bliss that came from being sated by the man who had trained and taught and tormented you.

"You did so well, my sweet, filthy girl," he purred, the words a soft murmur against your hair. "So obedient, even when I had to punish you for nearly getting yourself killed."

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, eyes twinkling with both relief and mischief. "You really had me worried there, yknow," he chided gently.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, kissing you with a jovial intensity. His kisses trailed along your jaw, up to your ear where he murmured, "Don't think you can get away with stunts like that." His teeth grazed your earlobe playfully.

Laughing, you tried to squirm away, but he captured you in his arms. "No escaping your punishment," Gojo teased, raining kisses along your neck and collarbone. His fingers danced along your sides, finding all the spots that made you squirm with giggles.

Finally, he relented, pinning you beneath him with a roguish grin. "There, I'd say that covers it for scaring me half to death." His expression softened as he brushed a few stray hairs from your flushed face. "Just don't go risking that beautiful smile again, okay?"

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veronicaphoenix · 18 hours

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Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes Tags and TW: established polyamorous relationship, angst, anxiety, reader’s mother does not approve of her daughter’s relationship with oli and noah, psychological abuse, mentions of alcohol, implied sexual scenarios that are not described, only mentioned. Author's note: i've changed the narrator to 3rd person. Chapter not beta read.

Heart Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 1: The Snakes | Words: 3k Summary: Reader suffers a breakdown due to her mother’s disapproval of her relationship with the boys, but neither Oliver nor Noah are there to comfort her.

She burst into tears as soon as she closed the door, shutting out the world behind her.

The weight of her mother’s words had choked her during the drive home, but she had refused to let the tears fall until she reached the safety of her home.

A home that these days felt empty and devoid of the male voices that brought her so much happiness.

Noah and Oliver had been away from home for nearly a month and the three hadn’t seen each other except through cell phone and computer screens since they both left on their respective tours.

Bad Omens’ European tour kept Noah continents away, with four agonizing days left until his return.

Oliver was on the other side of the country, bound for a whirlwind of gigs before flying off to festival in Mexico.

Had circumstances been different, she would have accompanied them. She would have gotten on the plane with Noah to be with him for a week in Europe, they would have taken the opportunity to do some sightseeing in the few hours Noah had free between concerts, they would have made love in a hotel room overlooking one of those rivers that cross several European cities or even the sea, and they would have gorged themselves on all kinds of typical foods from the countries they were in. Then, from there, she would have flown immediately to the city where Oliver was and repeated the same thing with him. She would have followed him from one concert to the next, sending him flying kisses from the side of the stage as he performed and showering him with her love and affection when they were back at the hotel.

But today, precisely today, she was alone. They boys were miles away from her, and despite longing for their presence more intensely than ever, she made a conscious decision not to call them, refusing to burden them with her tears and pleas to return. She recognized her own maturity, knowing that calling them and crying about needing their kisses and arms around her, would only undermine her strength and autonomy.

So, she cried, her back pressed against the door of their home.

Noah’s running sneakers, neatly aligned on the shoe rack, seemed to stare back at her, reminding her that the last time he’d worn them had been nearly a month ago, when he had kissed her goodbye with the passion of a soldier going out to war when he was actually just going for an hour run. Nearby, one of Oliver’s sweatshirts hung on a hook on the wall beside her own jacket, their proximity only serving to amplify the ache of his absence. Though their clothing brushed against each other, the physical touch she craved with him remained out of reach.

“You’re a whore, what else do you want me to think when you come in here and tell me you’re thinking of marrying two men?” Her mother’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind. “It’s not even legal, because that’s a barbarity! You’re letting yourself be groped like a bitch in heat and now you come up with this? That you want to get married?”

She gulped, a lump forming in her throat. She had sensed that the conversation with her mother wouldn’t go well, but she hadn’t thought it would go so badly, that she would say those things to her.

She fought the urge to retaliate with equal fervor.

“I love them,” she explained. “And despite what you think, they love me. I know polygamous marriage isn’t legal. We don’t care. We just want to have a celebration with our closest family and friends.”

“For God’s sake, daughter. Everyone’s going to see what a whore you’ve become, don’t you think? I’ve tried to stay out of this very... sinful relationship you’ve been having with those two, believing that at some point you would realize what you were doing. But instead, you come to my house and tell me you want to get married. You’re not well, honey. And I don’t think your brother is quite in his right mind either if he’s okay with this.”

Fifteen minutes after arriving home, she kicked off her shoes, shrugged off her jacket, and let her purse fall to the floor by the door. She walked with weak steps to the downstairs guest bathroom. She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. She wore hardly any makeup, but her mascara had run, her eyes were red and sunken, her cheeks swollen, and every inch of her face betrayed the sadness engulfing her.

Every time she recalled her mother’s expressions while saying all those horrible things, she was overcome by sobs she couldn’t contain. She leaned on the edge of the sink for a while until she managed to compose herself a little. She could keep crying as much as she wanted, but that wouldn’t change anything. Her mother wouldn’t come to her senses, and Oliver and Noah wouldn’t walk through the door to hold her in their arms.

Just then, as she eyed the double-band silver ring on her fourth finger and as if they could feel her pain, her iPhone chimed with the sound of an incoming notification. She ignored it. A few minutes later, it chimed again. Almost cursing under her breath, she went to fetch her phone and pulled it out of her purse. A trembling breath caught her when she saw that the notifications were respective to a message from Oliver and another from Noah in the iMessage group they shared, the same one they had created about three years ago when they decided to sleep together for the first time, in the midst of a tour in the UK.

She hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to open the conversation, her thumb hovering over the message notification. She would have preferred not to reply, knowing that both of them had some uncanny ability to sense her mood through her words, even if she had written a lie.

With a resigned sigh, she tapped open the conversation.

Oliver: Just tried the best vegan tacos! Wish you were here to try them. Haven’t heard from you guys in the last four hours and I can’t stop thinking about you. Has the princess eaten dinner yet? Pretty boy, did you sleep well? Are you awake?

Noah: Awake and hungry. Send a couple of those tacos to Stockholm. I’ll pay you back with a good blowjob when I get back.

As their messages danced across the screen, she found herself smiling, the weight on her shoulders momentarily lifted.

But as quickly as the laughter came, so too did the tears, a relentless tide that threatened to engulf her once more.

She typed with shaky fingers.

Her: I’m going to fix myself something to eat and watch a movie. Wish you were here. Miss you both. x

She pressed the send button and after waiting a few seconds to see if either of them was still online, she decided to lock the screen.

She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and walked back to the bathroom.

After washing away the remnants of tears clinging to her skin and tying her hair up in a messy bun, she ignored any reason she had to go upstairs to the master bedroom. She didn’t want to go in there because, in her state, she knew what would happen. So instead, she looked for something to occupy herself with in the kitchen.

The prospect of idling away in the kitchen wasn’t very exciting, but it offered a temporary respite. She pushed aside the temptation to grab a cold beer from the fridge because it wouldn’t take her any time to open it and drink it. At least, making coffee would keep her occupied for a few more minutes.

She was about to pour the coffee into a mug when the doorbell rang.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, much less at this hour. It was Saturday, and it was almost dark outside.

She didn’t expect to find her brother standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slightly hunched against the cold breeze that had just picked up.

“Jack?”

It only took him a few seconds to look at her to know that she was a mess. He clicked his tongue and hugged her right there, in the entryway of the house. She held her breath, letting her brother envelop her in his arms for a while until he finally let go and encouraged her to go inside and close the door, which she appreciated because she was about to burst into tears.

“Mom called me,” he announced.

That’s why he’s here, she thought.

“She told me you went to see her and tell her about the wedding... She didn’t hold back, and she called me some ugly names, too,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if unaffected. “But I was worried about you.”

He extended an arm to touch her cheek affectionately.

“Yeah,” she replied with a hint of detachment. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate him coming to her house to make sure she was okay or to keep her company; she simply didn’t want to think about her mother any longer, not today. Perhaps not for the rest of the week and the foreseeable future.

“Have you talked to them?” Jack inquired, looking around the kitchen as his sister made her way back to the counter where an empty black mug waited for her.

At the question, she sighed, filling the coffee mug to the brim. She knew sleep would elude her that night anyway, so no problem in having coffee at those late hours.

“I sent them a message a while ago.”

“A message?” Jack quirked his head inquisitively and raised an eyebrow. Sensing her reluctance to elaborate, Jack rested his hands on the kitchen island and leaned closer to his sister, standing on the other side.

“Baby sis, you have to tell them what happened. I get that they’re miles away and you won’t be able to see them for a few days, but they deserve to know what’s up and how you’re holding up. If you don’t, they’ll figure it out anyway. Those two have a radar or sixth sense for this stuff when it comes to you,” he said, almost earning a smile from her at the comment. Sometimes their wavelengths aligned perfectly. and to think that Noah and Oliver were such attentive partners made her stomach flutter, even after all these years. “And if you keep ignoring their calls, you know they’ll end up calling me, and I will tell them.”

“Jack...” she began, tired.

“I’m serious. I don’t want you stuck here alone in this massive house feeling like crap.”

“Fine,” she conceded, still clutching her coffee mug but not yet taking a sip. “I’ll call them.”

It wasnt true, but she needed to lie to get Jack off her back. Oliver would be back home in a few days. She would tell him then. But until that day, she had to prove to herself that she could handle whatever came her way without relying on anyone else, without needing not only one, but two shoulders to lean on.

“Good.”

“Want some coffee?” she asked, lifting her mug to shift the conversation.

“No, thanks,” Jack declined. “Actually, speaking of coffee, there’s another reason I”m here.”

She furrowed her brows, taking a sip.

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Sylvie has stopped drinking coffee,” he announced, prompting his sister to raise an eyebrow. “Well, the caffeinated kind, anyway.” A grin spread across Jack’s face, and his sister’s eyes began to widen. “She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, Jack! That’s great!” She nearly dropped her coffee in excitement. She swiftly moved around the island to hug her brother.

“I know. I’m going to be a father. Crazy, huh?”

“How’s Sylvie? How far along are you, guys? I’m going to be an aunt!”

“She’s good, been a bit nauseous for a few days, but nothing unexpected. Both her and the baby are fine. We had our second routine check-up yesterday, and well, Sylvie wanted to tell you three when you were all together, but after talking to mom today, I thought maybe I could lift your spirits a bit with the news. I don’t mean to overshadow your strife with this, I hope you know that.”

“Jack, for fuck’s sake. Don’t be silly. This is the best news I’ve had all month. I can come over to your place tomorrow to see Sylvie.”

“Sure. She’ll be thrilled. She was really looking forward to telling you. But please, do me a favor and call the guys, okay?”

He wasn’t going to let that slip onto the back burner. She had tried, at least, but her brother was as attentive and supportive as theyb come, and she couldn’t fault him for it. If anything, she should be grateful.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “Can I tell them about the baby? Oli’s going to be ecstatic. He loves babies. Noah, though, he’s still a bit weird around them.”

Jack laughed, nodding. “Absolutely, go ahead and let them know after you talk to them about today,” he said while he kept his gaze firm and expectant on her. “We’ll get together once they’re back to celebrate.”

Jack stayed with her for about half an hour, talking about Sylvie’s pregnancy, discussing their future, and sharing tidbits he knew would keep his sister’s mind occupied.

But of course, as soon as Jack left, she found herself once again enveloped in the silence of a house that felt too big for herself whenever she was alone.

With an empty stomach, she finally found herself compelled to go upstairs and enter the master bedroom, where she was welcomed by that unusual order and tranquility that she had begun to detest as the days Noah and Oliver spent away from home grew longer. She appreciated order and cleanliness, but on days like this, she hated crossing the threshold and not finding Noah’s dirty socks scattered here and there or Oliver’s jeans piling up on the armchair in a corner by the windows, the water bottles they always left on the nightstands, Noah’s vitamin gummies, or the books they would sometimes start reading while she finished showering after late work shifts.

After changing into comfortable clothes and deliberating for a while, she eventually crawled under the sheets, turning off the lights, and turning on that TV that Oliver had insisted on installing in the room against her and Noah’s wishes. The device had been there for over a year, and yet, she could count on one hand the times the three of them had bothered to watch a movie while in bed.

She resumed the series she had started watching alone after the guys left, but found herself struggling to concentrate on the storyline. Her feet felt cold beneath the duvet, and she couldn’t shake the sensation of feeling small in the vast expanse of the bed, with no one beside her. a little girl in the middle of a bed so big with no one beside her.

She ceased her nail-biting to retrieve her phone from the bedside table, cluttered with Oliver’s stuff, and checked her messages. There was a missing call from Oliver that she missed to attend while in the bathroom, along with a string of messages from both him and Noah. After her previous message, Oliver had sent a couple of selfies, earning a compliment from Noah, which was rare. Despite being together for three years, Noah still seemed somewhat reserved when it came to complimenting his boyfriend—now fiancé. On the other hand, had shared a series of photos of the city where he was with the band.

She replied with comments about the architectural beauty of the buildings and remarks about the nice weather. She made an effort to write something funny about Oliver’s selfies. Then, she informed them she was in bed, mentioning how cold it felt without them, before bidding them goodnight.

Just as she felt herself drifting off to sleep, memories of her mother’s harsh words flooded her mind, shattering any hope of rest and bringing forth fresh tears. Struggling to suppress both the tears and the haunting memories, she shifted in bed, confronted once again by the empty spot Noah should have occupied.

Her thoughts transported her back to the last night they had spent together, to the tender way she had traced the lines of the snake tattoo adorning his neck, followed by her affectionate kisses and nibbles before she straddled him, his erection seeking the familiar warmth between her legs that he called home.

The memory only served to exacerbate her unease and sadness, intensifying the ache of his absence.

Sitting up in bed, she cast aside the sheets as a sudden surge of heat enveloped her. She despised how her sobs reverberated off the bedroom walls, amplifying everything she felt.

She stared ahead into the darkness for a few seconds until her vision adjusted to the dim visibility of the house shrouded in the night, and when she began to make out the silhouette of the furniture, the corner of the huge rug at the foot of the bed, she saw herself there on her knees, with Oliver standing in front of her but with his back turned to her. He was shirtless, and she was pulling down his jeans and underwear to reveal the snake etched across his lower back and buttocks.

As she exposed it, a smile played on her lips before she began to trace it with her tongue, slowly. Oliver practically growled into Noah’s mouth, who was in front of him, also shirtless, and holding him close with a hand behind his head, pulling on his hair.

With a sob louder and more despairing than before, she rose from the bed, almost angry with the two men for not being there even though it wasn’t their fault.

She felt pathetic.

Making her way barefoot to the closet, she retrieved one of Oliver’s shirts, then one of Noah’s, and hurried downstairs, nearly tripping over her own feet.

Around three in the morning, exhaustion eventually overtook her. She fell asleep on the couch, curled into a corner, the shirts pressed tightly against her chest, each preserving the distinct masculine scent of its owner. She had cried until there were no tears left to shed.

CHAPTER 2: THE ANGEL OF DEATH - COMING SOON

#noah sebastian #oliver sykes #bad omens #bmth #bring me the horizon #noah sebastian fic #oliver sykes fic #noah sebastian x oliver sykes #noah sebastian x reader #oliver sykes x reader

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thefallennightmare · 2 days

Note

HC for your Monday:

You have been in a relationship with Noah for a while, and you went on the tour with the band. A prank war starts and lasts for almost a week. You are pulled up onto the stage, and Noah proposes to you while the crowd sings the chorus from Just Pretend. You get a little upset thinking it's a prank till you see how serious Noah is.

Much love miss Tina, thank you 🩵💜

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera

The prank war within Bad Omens this tour cycle has been one for the books.

Between you sneaking up behind every single member of the band and crew to scare them and switching out one of Matt's mixes of Just Pretend with the sound of a bunch of raccoons screaming, during the sound check of course, you were glad that it was the last day and everything was finished.

Or so you thought.

Everyone knew about your and Noah's relationship even though the first couple of years you did your best to keep it private. While some fans weren't too thrilled, a lot of the fanbase was happy that Noah finally found someone that made him happy.

But even though everyone knew about your relationship, you and Noah still kept everything private.

So tonight, during their show, you were confused when Noah called you out on stage.

Your senses were on high alert because not only were hundreds of phones on you, but the prank war was still on so you couldn't take anything seriously.

"What are you doing?" You asked under your breath as he made you sit on a stool next to his mic stand.

"This song at first didn't really have much meaning," Noah spoke into the mic towards the crowd. "But now, in the last couple of years, I realized that it means a lot to everyone; especially us."

Bad Omens started playing Just Pretend and you watched with your heart in your throat as Noah sang his heart out tonight, more than he ever had before.

Then when the crowd began to sing the chorus, Noah got on the riser in front of you, bending on one knee while looking directly at you.

"Marry me?" He mouthed, so discreetly that only you could see.

You blinked, ready to lose it on him because you for sure thought it was a prank.

Especially since Bryan was right next to you, recording with his camera.

But when you saw the sincerity and love radiating off of Noah, your anger subsided because you could tell he meant those two words.

"Would you say I'm worthy?" He sang into the mic while standing up on his two feet.

"Yes!" You breathed while kissing his lips.

Noah smiled into the kiss and since it was the last song before the encore, he whisked you off the stage to where everyone was patiently waiting.

"So?!" Folio asked while bouncing on his feet.

Noah pulled out a ring from his pocket and you gasped at the diamond while he slipped it on your finger.

Cheers from the crowd mixed with cheers from your friends and family as you and Noah kissed again.

"I thought it was a prank at first," you admitted while resting your forehead against his.

"I'd never joke about my love for you, angel."

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fics #noah sebastian headcannons #bad omens headcannons #noah sebastian x reader

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lucysstoryworld · 3 days

Text

The Veil Whisperer | Azriel x Reader (2)

Summary: The High Lord and his Spymaster have a meeting with The Veil Whisperer. It does not end the way anyone expects.

Themes: Love/hate relationship, enemies to lovers kinda

Warnings: CC3 Spoilers, mentions of child abuse. If I have missed any, let me know.

Just a quick note. Abhartach is mentioned as 'Avertock', That will make sense in the story.

Words: 4979

Read Part One Here

A mix of amber and lavender incense swirled delicately into the air, hazing the room. Through the mist, Azriel could see what looked like various shrines and altars staged in different parts of the room; each seemingly signifying something different. One had various gold coins coupled with a mug full of... something, surrounded by rocks? Another consisted of feathers and skulls, of which Azriel quickly looked away from what was quite obviously some sort of omen of death. He landed on another which had some of the most intricate tools he had seen, he would think they were beautiful if the whole thing didn't make him so uncomfortable. A large, open fire sat in the middle of the room. The heat offered some semblance of comfort to Azriel when the rest of the room sent shivers creeping down his spine. There were other rooms and he was glad he could not see into them, only The Mother knows what lurked behind those doors and he hoped it would stay that way. Though nothing drew more attention than the woman sitting quietly, brewing a pot of tea over the aforementioned flames.

"High Lord of Night and his Spymaster... what could possibly be so important that you both show up together?" She spoke, though a knowing glint was obvious in her eyes which was accompanied by a feline smirk. Azriel and Rhysand glanced at each other, both arching one eyebrow that turned the Veil Whisperer's smirk into a grin. "Now, now boys. Come sit and have a cup of tea." To anyone who was unaware, this would appear like a kind gesture between friends. Azriel and Rhys knew better than to argue. They had walked themselves right into the centre of her web, so they had to tread lightly. Both males sat quietly, watching the Veil Whisperer from across the fire. Watched as she poured the tea into three cups, her face remained on the pot, not yet having looked either male in the eyes. Azriel looked at Rhys once again, who was sat stock-still and watched the female's every move. Azriel was sure he was preparing to be tricked, like he was previously. So was he, if Azriel was being honest. This female was one of the least trustworthy fae he knew. He was sure the humans based their ideas of trials and trickery about their kind on this female.

"We have come with a request," Rhys spoke, the cool voice of a High Lord rang through Azriel's ears.

"Obviously," the female cut in, her eyes focused on the cup in her hands looking wholly bored. Azriel refrained from rudeness by taking a sip from his cup. He swirled it around in his mouth for a moment. Floral, bitter with a hint of lemon. It's fine, no poison, Azriel projected and not a moment later, Rhys also sipped his tea. A short breath snorted from the Veil Whisperer, as if she heard Azriel's thought. Rhys has assured him she was not daemati, though there was no telling what other talents she possessed. "I'm not going to poison you... again. Especially when I have drank from the same pot."

"We need your help locating something," Rhysand spoke again.

"And would it have anything to do with the world-walker that entered Prythian some weeks ago?" The Veil Whisperer queried as though she was asking about the weather.

If Azriel wasn't so good at his job, he was sure his shock would have been audible. The same could be said for his High Lord, although he was a bit less talented at hiding his reaction. Rhysand's jaw clenched and his lips thinned into a firm line. He pushed a sigh through his nose and rolled is eyes slightly, "Okay, so instead of playing your little games, how about you tell us what you know then."

A toothy grin paired with a soft laugh erupted from the Veil Whisperer. Finally her eyes lifted from her cup and straight into Rhys's. Azriel couldn't deny her strange allure, how different her beauty was from what they were used to in Prythian. The fine-line tattoos that decorated her face along with the strange decorations in her hair and ears interested Azriel to no end and he found himself studying her instead of paying attention. It was unsettling really, Azriel found himself being more wary than he was usually. He felt as though he was being walked into the trap of her beauty like it was inviting him to let his guard down and end up the worse of it. Azriel took another sip of his tea and allowed the blend to bring him back to reality. He focused once again, this time with self-annoyance rippling through his body. The Shadowsinger had fallen for the first trick of the Veil Whisperer and that was her beauty. She was currently staring Rhys down, examining him as though he was an experiment. Rhysand held her gaze but nonchalantly drank from his cup.

"A world-walker entered this land three times in close succession some weeks ago, there was a large release of power on the first visit and they departed soon after. A couple of days later, the fabric of this world was opened again by the same individual and very soon after, they entered and left again," The Veil Whisperer drawled, her hands animating the scene dramatically.

"Not interesting enough for you to come sniffing if you could sense it then?" Rhys sniped, while placing his cup on its accompanying saucer.

Seriousness settled on the female's face. "I do not go looking for trouble... especially where world-walkers are concerned." Azriel felt uneasy. The same uneasiness he felt when Bryce landed in front of his feet. For someone as renowned as the Veil Whisperer to be cautious of a world-walker proved that they were up shit creek.

"Have you ever come across another?" Azriel found himself asking before he had a chance to stop himself. He blamed his spymaster tendencies for that, always prodding for the whole truth.

The Veil Whisperer's gaze rolled over to Azriel and the Illyrian found himself bracing before her clear scrutiny. "I have not... well not through an event as large as this one." She stated and returned her attention to the High Lord. He stopped himself from demanding her to explain herself, more so when he saw that Rhys seemed to know what she was talking about. "Though we are veering off track. What do you want and how does it involve a world-walker," The Veil Whisperer almost snapped.

"The world-walker caused a release of power, like you said," Rhys began and the female beckoned him to continue impatiently. "That release of power occurred on a part of my land that you may be familiar with... The Prison." The inner circle had discussed on the best call to action for this conversation. They toyed with the idea of Rhys appearing like he does to the Hewn City, or an indifferent force of nature like he is in front of his fellow High Lords. Though they decided for him to be respectful, yet demanding. 'Beggars cannot be choosers, boy,' Amren had advised.

A hard look settled over the Veil Whisperer's face, her tattooed fingers tightened around her cup. "What of it?"

"The world-walker caused... structural changes to the Prison and-"

"And one of its inhabitants has gotten free and you need help finding it?" She butt in, annoyance building in her tone.

"Yes."

"Who or what has gotten loose?" She pinched her the bridge of her nose.

"The Abhartach..." Rhys spoke cautiously.

The Veil Whisperer's head shot up from her cup with a vicious glare. "Of all things," She gritted her teeth. "Why must you need my help? Can your dog sitting next to you not perform his duties? Or your creepy second in command?"

"You will not speak ill of my inner circle," The High Lord ordered, balling his hands into fists.

"It is not ill-spoken if it is truth, Rhysand." Impertinence rippled off the female in waves. "How long have you been looking?"

"Roughly five weeks," Azriel answered, his ego bruising.

"Any victims?"

"None that we have been able to unveil."

The Veil Whisperer threw her eyes to the ceiling, muttering a swear to some deity that neither male knew of, or cared to know of for that matter. "What do you know of the Abhartach?"

"It is a blood sucking demon, from what I have read, that was captured and imprisoned long before even my great-grandfather walked the land," The High Lord answered, rubbing his hands on his pants.

A humourless chuckle filled the space, "It is not just a blood sucking demon. It is of an age where people with my abilities were the only magical inhabitants, from what my mother told me," The Veil Whisperer began with a flicker of emotion in her eyes. "Its kind was highly intelligent. It can appear as human, fae, beast, whatever animal it likes to draw its prey in. Some of my ancient scrolls talk of a time where there was a local population of them here, and more dotted across the continent. They do not die of age, hunger, thirst, illness. They are beings frozen in time, their very blood runs cold."

Azriel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at her description of the Abhartach... it was more information than he, or anyone else for that matter, had been able to gather through their own fae history and books. This female before him seemed to have a completely different impression of the history in these lands that also seemed to run deeper than he could conceive. The spymaster ignored the unsettling of his stomach at how eerily similar this demon sounded to the high fae. The Veil Whisperer looked at Azriel, as if sensing his train of thought.

"Their main goal is blood, that is how they sustain themselves as I'm sure you're aware. For no victims of The Abhartach to have been discovered after an untold term of imprisonment does not bode well... my manuscripts and history only tells me so much about it... but they always spoke of the bloodlust..." She seemed to say more so to herself than Azriel and Rhys.

"So what you're telling me is that because there has seemingly been no attacks, that there is something else at play," Rhys stated.

"I do not know what I'm telling you, High Lord. Only that it is acting out of turn of its documented behaviours. Regardless, this is technically none of my business." The Veil Whisperer settled back into her mask of arrogance.

"What price will make it your business?" Rhys asked. Azriel now knew that this female was their only chance at catching their escapee. Her knowledge of it far surpassed their own, which he was sure she knew, and that meant she could ask for whatever she wanted and they would have to oblige.

The Veil Whisperer stood and rounded the large hearth, her cup in hand. She halted between to two males, looking down at them with an unforgiving expression. Her eyes burned holes through both of them. The Veil Whisperer tore her gaze from them, and stared into the bottom of her cup. A displeased hum. "It's a goat," She muttered. Both males furrowed their brows, each looking to the other with puzzlement. They watched as she set her cup down and picked up the cups that the males had been drinking from. "You have the scales," She muttered again and met eyes with Azriel. "And you have a unicorn, High Lord."

"Excuse me?" Rhysand almost spat. Azriel felt his heckles rising, he did not enjoy the idea of being part of some... ritual.

"It is a mythical creature written in my culture... it is depicted in the leaves of your tea, Rhysand." The female lowered the cup to Rhys and Azriel could see the shape of a horse with a horn? "Each one of the depictions in our respective cups are bad omens... so I must decline your request. You may take your leave. It has always been a pleasure."

"You're rejecting our plea for help to catch a blood sucking demon because of tea leaves?" Azriel questioned incredulously.

The Veil Whispered sauntered back to her chair, "Yes, Shadowsinger," She answered as though he was a child. "These omens are rarely incorrect so I heed their warning."

Azriel glanced at his brother, who seemed to be searching inwardly for a way to convince The Veil Whisperer. "Is there truly no way to convince you? I'm willing to meet any of your demands." The feeling of Rhysand's almost begging churned Azriel's stomach.

"If our paths are truly meant to cross on this journey, High Lord, then they will in some other way. You cannot buy my participation this time. This is no easy task, not one bought."

Azriel could feel his temper begin to simmer below the surface. This female spoke in riddles and bullshit. He felt himself wanting to shout and demand that she helps, for she knew they were at a loss — that he was at a loss. Don’t, Rhys spoke into his mind, We will figure something else out. Azriel shot his brother a look to say ‘How?’ to which Rhysand ignored. When Azriel looked back to The Veil Whisperer, she seemed to be studying his face. Meeting her eyes, Azriel did not hold back the grimace and disgust he felt. If she noticed, she did not show it. She held his gaze for a moment, before returning her stare to Rhys.

“You may take your leave.” With that, she stood and left into a different room.

Azriel and Rhysand left The Veil Whisperer’s home and winnowed back to the River House. There, the inner circle awaited patiently. No sooner than their feet had touched the wooded floors had Feyre come into view, carrying a crying Nyx in her arms. Azriel could see the tiredness weighing on his High Lady’s eyes. From what his brother had said, Nyx seemed to be crying at nearly all hours of the day as of late. As much as he loved his precious little nephew, he did not envy Feyre or Rhys at the moment… no matter how much he longed to have a connection that resulted in a family.

Rhysand scooped the wailing high baby of night into his arms, the nickname coined by Cassian, and began to rock him gently. He shushed the boy, though it did little halt the cries. "I've tried feeding him, changing, playing, napping..." Feyre trailed off, her hand rubbing across her forehead.

With his free hand, Rhys took his High Lady's hand into his own and squeezed. "Go have some time to yourself, Feyre. You deserve a rest," He said as gently as he could over Nyx's yells. Feyre looked gratefully at her mate and squeezed his hand in return. With a kiss on her child's cheek, Feyre took off down the halls to her respite. Rhysand met his brother's eyes and could see the question looming in his gaze. "I am not sure how we should proceed," Was all he said, and continued to rock his son. He slowly began to quieten though Nyx felt it fitting to let both males know he was still unhappy. Azriel remained silent, instead choosing to take one of his nephew's little hands into his own. The way the babe melted his heart was undeniable.

"Well, we will discuss the others about what to do... there is a lot to unpack from that one visit alone."

***

You tried to focus on the book in your hand, though the words seemed to swim on the page. Your mind relentlessly returned to the earlier encounter with the High Lord of Night and his Spymaster. It had been a long stretch of time since the last time a three-part omen presented itself to you. If you were being honest with yourself, the decision to reject Rhysand's offer was one you weren't sure was completely right. The last time something similar happened... Well that hadn't ended well. Your cheeks heated at the thought, the familiar bubble of anger roiling in your stomach.

Your mind wandered to the Shadowsinger, as you lost yourself in the smoke whirling and twirling from the incense burning before you. The way he looked at you, disgust and interest all mixed together in his smoky gaze. A slight smile tugged at the corners of your lips. As good as Azriel was at hiding his emotions, you thought him fairly easy to read. He trusted Rhysand implicitly, and Rhysand trusted him. They looked to each other for support throughout their earlier meeting. You found Azriel's eyes looking between you and the High Lord, he was ready to put himself between you if the situation called for it. The spymaster looked at you like you were a walking, talking trap. A light chuckle. You supposed he wasn't wrong, after your little trick on Rhysand last time. You sensed his personal apprehension of you. After the revelation of his tea leaves, you didn't miss how he seemed to pale when he realised he had his leaves read. If he was like most sentient beings in Prythian, he was likely terrified of the possibility of anything other than The Mother existing. Fool.

At the thought of the leaves, you stood and made your way through your cottage. Huffing frustratedly, you settled before your small desk and reached for the soft cloth. Folding it, you placed it over the crown of your head, leg bouncing impatiently. If you can't stop bitching about it, then you might as well get more guidance, your mother used to say when you got like this. Tying the knot in your hair, you reached for the pouch, pulling out the familiar deck of cards. Though you had many in your collection, this set was always your favourite. These cards were brutal when they wanted to be, but always said what you needed to hear. After knocking the deck and shuffling, you had an itching feeling the cards would be on the more brutal side today. With that, your hands kept shuffling until three cards dropped. Two landed faced-up, and a long sigh escaped through your lips. Ten of cups in reverse, eight of wands upright. "Wow," you said humourlessly. You turned over the final card. There was no denying that change was coming. And it was coming in a way that you weren't going to like or be able to avoid. Not with The Tower staring back at you, upright. Brutal cards indeed.

You contemplated the signs before you and the leaves from earlier. Whatever was coming your way was unavoidable, that much was true. Another sigh. You would deal with this tomorrow. After putting the cards away, you padded to your kitchen. After a day like this, you pulled out your favourite blend. Bringing the box of tea to your nose, a sense of nostalgia filled you. People had come and gone, tragedies ebbed and flowed but this tea had always remained a comfort. Settling in your chair before the fire, you sipped the tea and allowed yourself to relax finally. The sun began dip below the horizon. Despite the turmoil of the day, you felt your nerves settle. You allowed the heaviness of your eyes take over.

There was a storm raging outside your window now. The hail battered your window so hard you were sure the glass would crack. The room was eerily quiet. The candles had snuffed themselves out, the fire in middle of the room cast a red glow over the room. A chill encroached the room. You rubbed your arms and looked around. The lack of presence in the room rattled you. There was always a sense of vague company in your little abode. Now, it was stagnant. Like the room was holding its breath as the storm raged outside.

Standing from your chair, you looked into through the open doors of your home... strange. You always kept your doors shut. Each room was the same. Empty. The wind screamed outside your window, wailed like a feminine rage. Viscous and... terrifying. Goosebumps prickled along your arms. The screams started to sound more real. Like a baby, howling for help. The sound was undeniable. Everyone knew what that sound meant. A tremble took over your hands, a cold sweat immediately broke out across your brow. Your heart began to thump heavily in your chest. Instinct had you bolting back through the rooms of your cottage. Every time you followed the sound, it moved somewhere else. Louder and louder, that baby cried. Squealing in pain. Tears gathered in your eyes, your shaking hands pulling at your hair.

"Where are you?!" You screamed.

The scream suddenly sounded behind you, right in your ear. You whirled. There it was, across the room. The baby, swaddled as though it had been ripped from its crib. He cried wantonly as a long, black nail rubbed over his cheek. You looked at who was holding the child... at what was holding the child. It was strange, its features blurry. It was looking right at you, its aura threatening yet smug. You felt stuck.

"What are you?" You growled.

It remained stock-still, all for its nail rubbing the infant's cheek. Like it knew it was upsetting the poor child. You repeated the question again, trying to find the power within yourself. The being studied you, like it knew what you were trying to do and it judged you. The emptiness within... you couldn't feel your power.

"What. Are. You?" The demand passed through your lips with a venomous ease. Your heart only thumped harder as the nail on the baby's face halted.

Halted and began to dig in.

Your ears rang with the shrill of the baby's terror. Though you could not make out any identifiable features on the being, you knew it was smiling more and more. You tried to run for the child, though your feet remained cemented to the ground. You tried to pull against it, though nothing seemed to work.

"Please!" You begged for the first time in many moons. "Please!"

Suddenly the cries halted. The beast stopped too. The baby turned its head and looked into your eyes, tears still dripping down his little face that was beet red. You stared back in horror, fear rippling through you in waves. You reached out to it, wishing you could comfort it. However, as your hand fully outstretched the being lunged for you, the baby falling from its hold.

Your mouth opened to shout, the breath beginning to rip through you. It wasn't quick enough to stop it. The being ran through you quicker than the scream left your lungs. Quicker than the baby hit the ground.

The scream followed you back into the real world as you jolted upright in your seat. Heaved breaths laboured through you as your hand rubbed against your chest. Your eyes darted around the room. Candles lit. Fire bellowing. Heat in the room. Calm weather through the window. A nightmare. It was a nightmare. Something wasn't right about it, that much you knew. That baby... You shot up out of your seat, and grabbed your bags.

***

The inner circle of Night sat in a semi-circle around the fire. Conversations littered throughout the room. The rain outside made the room feel cosier. Azriel sat between Nesta and Elain. The sisters were chatting idly.

"Well all I'm saying is that I could recommend you books that are far more interesting than 'An Encyclopaedia of Prythian's Flora and Fauna'," Nesta teased.

Elain smirked, "I'm sure you could, sister. I'm sure your titles are positively riveting and mentally stimulating."

"They stimulate something anyways," Azriel muttered, his mind going back to the times she and Cassian had fucked all over The House.

Nesta hit Azriel's arm playfully and Elain giggled though a rosy hue coloured her cheeks.

Silence captured the room as a cry from Nyx emanated into the space. A frustrated sigh escaped Feyre and Rhys... and everyone for that matter.

"I do not know how you deal with that day in and day out, as lovely as he is when he's quiet," Amren announced.

"Oh please, Amren," Morrigan protested. "He's just a little baby!"

Rhys and Feyre left together. "A noisy one," Amren replied.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and gave the short female a snotty glare. It quickly left as the High Lord and Lady returned with their son. He still was still groaning and moaning. "Madja says there is nothing wrong with him... a lot of infants go through this," Feyre stated as she handed the baby over to Mor.

"It's okay," She cooed. "Come to your favourite Aunty Mor."

All eyes shot to Azriel when he shot up from his seat and began stomping toward the doors. Someone has entered the city, he projected to Rhys and Feyre through his mind. Both of them followed, getting ready to intercept the stranger. Azriel could hear the others question what was happening. He assumed Rhys and Feyre relayed the message to them because they all silenced themselves. The three of them walked all the way outside, until they were free of the wards on the estate.

"I will winnow us," Feyre announced and held out each of her hands. Both males took her hand without question and they winnowed to the location that Azriel provided. A multitude of possibilities ran through Azriel's mind, as he took out Truth Teller. Maybe an Autumn Court spy. Court of Nightmares, perhaps. Bryce Quinlan may have returned? None of the speculations could have prepared him for the reality when he emerged from the winnow.

For you standing on the edge of the city, feline-smiling at all three high fae, bags in hand. "Hello there, High Lady Feyre. I do not believe we have met before," You said.

"What are you doing here?" Feyre had really mastered the voice of a High Lady.

"Forgive me," You said incredulously, "Was it not your mate and Shadowsinger that requested my services?" You asked as though they were children. Rhysand looked like he was going to rip her apart, to which she grinned. "Well I've changed my mind, it's your lucky day."

"Why the sudden change of heart? After your leaves and omens," Azriel bit.

"Oh pipe down. I did further searching. It is in our best interest to proceed with our best foot forward. I will help you, take it or leave it," You barked. Azriel felt a sense of urgency from you, a sense of unease.

"What of your price?" Rhysand asked.

"I have not yet decided." Definitely out of character.

"How do we know you will not ask for too much even after the job has begun?" Feyre this time. All three of them were a force to be reckoned with.

"Ugh," You grumbled. Never had you seen three more ungrateful people. "I am offering you my help without a prior price, surely that speaks for itself. But if it's really that much to you, I will not ask for anything that will ruin any of you or your court... is that enough?" All three looked to each other, a mental conversation, you were sure. You took the opportunity to look at Azriel again. There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on, an interest.

You purged the thoughts from your mind as the Shadowsinger's eyes met your own. You smirked once again at the apprehension in his gaze, that same religious fear swarming.

"We will accept," The High Lady announced. "Though we still need to know why you are in the city? How did you get this far without triggering the wards?"

You met her eyes. Feyre was as fierce as you'd heard. You were impressed when you found out that Rhysand had made her his High Lady. A better male than his father, that was for sure. "Hm..." You chuckled lightly. While you studied her, you could tell she was becoming impatient. "I'll put it to you this way, High Lady. My abilities are very old, very complex. Older than the magic that flows through your veins. So I can be wherever I want to be, undetected. I thought that I would trigger the wards here, strong as they are, as some sort of... doorbell we'll say." The sarcasm was clearly not appreciated by her. You noted the look of muted surprise when you used her honorific without malice as you were sure she was accustomed to. "As for my reasons being here, my work will be better undertaken from here." They wanted to press further, though they all remained silent.

"Very well, Veil Whisperer," Rhysand said. "You will stay with Azriel in the city. You will conduct your work in conjunction with him and report to myself and my High Lady periodically until this ordeal is over."

Azriel would rather do anything other than share lodgings with this female, but they were desperate he supposed. The Veil Whisperer looked less than pleased with the terms. Your eyes scanned over all three of them, weighing. You walked toward them. Azriel braced himself. With an outstretched hand, you spoke "Deal."

Rhys, Feyre and Azriel stared at your hand as though there was a trick in your sleeve which put a humoured grin on your face. You kept it outstretched, waited for them to shake. Feyre took your hand first, shaking it gently but firm at the same time. Her lead was followed by Rhysand and Azriel.

You looked at them once again, and dipped you chin as a sign of respect. You were only glad that you managed to stop shaking during your trek here.

Note: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want me to create a tag list :)

#acotar azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel angst #azriel x you #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #amren acotar #cassian acotar #morrigan acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction

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sadhornydemons · 3 days

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Rapid-Spoiler-Season-Speculation: Apology Tour/Ghostf*ckers

Caution: some references are made to other spoilers, so proceed with caution if you wish to avoid.

Apology Tour:

Alright, I'll admit, this episode I think I understand the least, so I'm sure I'm completely off the mark in even attempting to make sense of it.

Cake will be served, and it's clown Blitz version. Heart on an item in the back, heart on the knife. How many years has it been and she's still obsessed?

WHATEVER this is, Blitz didn't just stumble into it, I wonder if some type of invitation got him there.

Blood/red stained sheet for unknown reasons.

I think I'm the only one who preferred the earlier design, but guess I just have a type.

WHAT. DA. FUCK.

Yeah, of course, this is when my imagination starts churning.

Did Stolas reach just the perfect amount of drunk before his Spotify breakup playlist reached Olivia Rodrigo, causing him to throw on last year's Halloween costume and portal himself to his ex so he could express himself properly?

No, Stolas had an entire stage prop production prepared. That or we haven't seen the full extent of his magic conjuring abilities.

(same outfit, I'm keeping my eye on the spiked collar 'cause it's new to his wardrobe)

I don't know what could bring this on. At first, I thought it was a dream sequence, but the spiked collar turns up in a later scene. Maybe I just haven't accepted that my fav character could be an asshole?

Screenshots of Blitz, sheet is now a hoodie, we really don't know what he's looking at in this particular scene.

I don't think this is a full scale concert, though. Probably more of a private event. Maybe Verosika was planning a gathering of the 'We Hate Blitzo' fanclub, but Stolas was the only one to RSVP.

If it is, a public concert, I mean, I can just imagine the headlines:

Prince Stolas shocks audience members by appearing as the opening act in Verosika Mayday's concert, preforming his original ballad, 'Imp Dicks Aren't Worth the Heartbreak'.

And if it is a regular event, there's the possibly Blitz attended on purpose..to apologize about things? (hence the title) I don't know, it just all seems too weird.

As poster bleucaesura noted, Stolas is on his couch in this scene. The red stained sheet, presumably with Blitz under, stand before him. Stolas's collar is spiked, so this seems to happen after the musical number.

This is mainly all the info we have this episode, but looking ahead to future ones, I'm thinking this is gonna conclude the majority of the Stolitz angst. Or at least the current ones.

As many have noted, this season has been following a pattern of focusing on, and occasionally resolving Blitz's relationship problems. Unhappy Campers introduced Barbie properly, adding more details to the fire incident. Oops and Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special added to that by focusing on him and Fizz. Full Moon and Apology Tour seem to be based around Stolas and then both Stolas and Verosika, fitting since it's comparing people from his love life.

Hence, I believe the next episode will instead prioritize Blitz's relationship with M&M:

Ghostfuckers:

The IMP mobile is totaled and appears spray painted. Therefore, guessing this scene must take place first:

But what would cause "a life on the run", as Blitz puts it, unless he wasn't completely serious?

And I'm not sure if the hooded folks, "Come out, we've got your surrounded." scene was edited in before this or not.

There are those clouds in the background and it seems to call for a more scary scene, or at least until he checks his watch.

(actually those could all take place in previous episode or the ones to come, for all we know!)

Blitz wears a bad disguise rather than using an asmodean crystal. We could read too much into that because maybe Blitz just LIKES coming up with disguises, but in other spoilers, we see Blitz using a book for portals.

The enemy is doing bad things to the character's mental health, bringing about their worse fears. In reference to Blitz, I wonder if this is this is where those scenes come into play:

Interesting how it's edited like Blitz watching a filmstrip of his life, complete with a decorative frame.

Shown in a different style, I wonder if this flashback will also be used:

And, (if my earlier theory is wrong), this has to appear somewhere:

We see a flashback to a younger, longer hair Millie (not unlike her wedding photo):

(and it looks like outside a ship? Hey, maybe pirates really did have port windows!)

Which may be used to match up with this fight:

This, however, is hopefully, just another hallucination:

Okay, for the rest of this episode, one can't really speculate because the (looks both ways cautiously) storyboards leaked last year reveal a good chuck of the action and dialogue. So without getting TOO into that, for those who want to avoid getting too spoiled, I'll conclude this episode may turn out to be a fun, scary, but with admittedly triggering subjects, that showcase Blitzø's messy and occasionally obsessive relationship with Moxxie and Millie.

...and possibly new issues with Loona? Something is hinted out, but I might get into THAT speculation in the last two episodes.

#helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #stolitz #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #millie helluva boss

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injoontz · 3 days

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♡ :: nct dream as taylor swift the tortured poets department songs ↳ just a silly song analysis of nct dream in a relationship

~ oc = original character ~ ~ unedited ~

🤍 — MARK LEE ! !

[ SO HIGH SCHOOL ] when it comes to mark i feel like the concept of a giggly, high school romance is something that would fit him perfectly. if i was a delusional mark stan i would say that mark gives high school crush, he's everyone's friend and is overall a very kind and bright person. he would be the type of boy that all the guys would want to be friends with and all the girls would have a crush on. but because of this, he would also be a bit oblivious to oc's obvious crush on him. he would make silly mistakes and be the slowest person to realize that oc has a crush on him until she finally tells him. only then would he start to pay more attention to her and slowly fall for her.

🤍 — HUANG RENJUN ! !

[ THE ALBATROSS ] this song makes me so emotional and to think of this song with renjun really makes my heart hurt. the concept of falling in love with someone that everyone is telling you that will hurt you but the reality is the opposite. renjun seems like the type of person to fall for someone and love them unconditionally, however those around him warn him about getting into a relationship. they'll say that him being in a relationship will ruin him and his reputation. renjun would fall for oc and oc would love him just as much as he loves her, but the public disapproves of their relationship warning renjun and telling renjun that he should break up with her. but oc tells renjun that she will protect him and that she will always be there for him, even if the public doesn't like their relationship, she is willing to put up with the hate so that they can be together.

🤍 — LEE JENO ! !

[ THE ALCHEMY ] jeno is just so the alchemy coded, the concept of a love that only happens once in a life time and two people forming new memories and love together. jeno and oc would be one of those perfect couples that while they may have arguments here and there, they are able to work through it together. they are the image of a perfect healthy relationship. they are the champions of the world because they are together. not to mention taylor's line "where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me," just seems like a very jeno coded song. he would win an amazing award at a music show but the moment he gets off stage, he doesn't rush to take a photo with the trophy but instead runs to oc and embraces her.

🤍 — LEE HAECHAN ! !

[ IMGONNAGETYOUBACK ] you can't even argue with me about this song because it's just so haechan coded. in this song, the narrator is singing about their ex and how they are going to get them back. however, the double meaning behind this song makes it obvious that the narrator is confused about what she wants to do to her ex. she's fighting between wanting to get back together with her ex and loving him, or if she should get revenge on him for hurting her heart. in this instance, the narrator and haechan had an amazing healthy relationship, but a series of mistakes led the two to break up with both of them ending on bad terms with one another. i can imagine a second-chance romance with a lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers trope. there would be high tension between the two as they try to force themselves to hate one another but secretly they still like one another and eventually after some pushing from their friends, they are able to talk things out and be together again.

🤍 — NA JAEMIN ! !

[ DOWN BAD ] do i need to say anymore? the lyrics themselves scream jaemin. from crying in the gym to longing for the lost relationship, i feel like for jaemin, this would be another one of those relationships that ended abruptly due to some sort of misunderstanding. in this case, the misunderstanding came from oc and her inability to talk it out problems with jaemin. additionally, letting his emotions get the better of him, jaemin and oc wouldn't be able to talk out their misunderstanding and he would leave her to protect himself from further heartbreak and distress. but now the oc is torn due to her mistake and inability to communicate with jaemin. she's singing about how she's still in love with him but is lost in how to approach him and fix their broken relationship.

🤍 — ZHONG CHENLE ! !

[ I LOOK IN PEOPLE'S WINDOWS ] with chenle i feel like this is the type of relationship that ended quietly. there was no crazy fight or misunderstanding but there's still a loss between the two. after they break up, there's a odd sense of emptiness that the narrator is trying to fill. the lyrics depict a narrator who had a minor yer also significant personal loss. she finds herself obsessively looking into the windows of houses in hopes of catching a glimpse of chenle. additionally, seeing chenle online and seeing his performances, she finds herself longing and seeking him out more. despite having broken up with one another on good terms, there's still a desire to understand where their relationship went wrong and to reconnect with one another to try and bring back the love that they lost.

🤍 — PARK JISUNG ! !

[ FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER ] this song refers to the narrator breaking out of a relationship that she feels jailed in. however, the narrator is still reliving parts of the relationship that she misses and yearns for. i feel like with this song, jisung and the oc are in a healthy relationship until they become public. once the public eye catches wind of their relationship everything changes and now the relationship seems to be holding the oc hostage. everything that they would do would be publicised, and the oc hates that. however, the second message in the song saying "now pretty baby, im running home to you", rather than applying it to a second relationship as many swifties have in terms of joe and matty, i like to think of this as the oc runs to jisung for consolation. she's trying to escape the public eye ("the slammer") by running to jisung ("home") because he is always there to comfort her and support her. despite the pressure from the public, she doesn't want to ruin her relationship with jisung and instead she would rather push through the bad parts so that she can remain with him and cherish their relationship.

©injoontz 2024

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keruimi · 3 days

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The Love I Strived For

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Warning: Comfort, slight Angst

Note: No words, too proud of this. My haikyuu fan side is kicking again so I decided to look back at the character that snatched my heart. I Hope you all love this the way I did. 🤍

_____________________________

"If she just knows how lucky she is to be close with Sakusa-san"

"To be like her..."

"Can we blame him, she is talented like him."

"She is so lucky..."

"Can I just be her?"

Those were the whispers I always hear the times I walk down the hallways, no matter where I am.

Sakusa's friend

The Woman who was his only exception.

Those words fill my heart with bitterness.

Because of the word 'friend'

They were right, I am talented like him. I am the best setter in the country. I am beautiful. My grades are still stable.

But our relationship will always still be in the so-called friendship.

Love is not his first priority. He could careless about it.

But I started to love him. A great Ace with a humble personality.

He should ask himself why I can't stop loving him.

Love that bloomed when we first met in the youth center for aspiring volleyball players.

That was the start of our story, of our friendship.

But never our love story.

Because no matter how perfect I am, no matter how much we are perfect in the eyes of others, I knew that feeling of acknowledgement would only stay as friends.

I could never ask for more no matter how much I wanted to.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

He was perfect. He has everything I wanted in a partner who I can spend my life with.

He has looks, he is a great player, he is a hard worker, and no matter how great a player he is, he was never prideful about it.

I love everything about him.

But our moments are always like acquaintances. I could never pass that line no matter how many years it has already been.

"I want you to love me. And I'll prove why I'm worth it"

That was the promise I declared wholeheartedly in our elementary days.

But he still feels so distant to me.

He acknowledged me, my love and talent. But never love anything I offered to him.

How am I lucky?

When my efforts seem to go to waste.

How can he love me?

"Senpai" a first year member of our team called out for me when she started to notice I was zoning out that made me look at the match in front of me.

A match where he lost the chance of being a consecutive champion.

I felt tears build up from my eyes when I saw the school's male volleyball team lose the rights to fight for the spot in the championship.

I hate it.

"Senpai... Let's greet them"

She tugged my sleeves like she is urging me to walk to greet the boys and I let my feet follow them.

And standing in front of him feels oddly cold.

So close but feels so far.

Maybe because of the bitterness I felt for him. But I can't blame him especially when it never occurs to him for loving anyone at all.

Right now I don't have the right words to say to him.

"I'll bring the victory to you"

Until those words left my lips.

That is a promise.

I love how his eyes gaze on my own before he nods in acknowledgement and proceeds to go to the locker room to wash up.

I silently yearn the moment he would finally love my efforts. The time where he would realize I am really serious about pursuing him. The moment he will feel proud of me.

I want to see the time where he would smile at me.

Because I just didn't wish for it. I worked for it.

I put sweat and tears to practice. To be a better player, match to him.

I work hard just to be seen. And I would never let go of this chance now that I am in the National Stage.

I'll bring the trophy to him.

I can hear the cheers in the stadium the moment I arrive at the end of the second set with us being in the losing end.

Because my body suddenly shut down from the quarterfinals we won yesterday.

Now that we are in the semifinals, I would not let the same bad luck be the reason why Itachiyama lost.

I am the female volleyball team's setter, the mastermind of every play. I don't want to lose therefore I can't leave.

26-25

The other team won the first set and on the lead on the second set.

The pressure was intense.

Especially when the coach immediately entered me in the game as I stood at the back.

This is my last chance...

I can't give up.

I'm not like his other fans who just wish and dream. I worked hard for it until I was deserving of it.

At this time, I want to be known by the world.

That I am the woman he should be proud of.

Those thoughts made me snatch the second set we almost lost.

Because I promise...

And I didn't realize that the match had finally ended, giving us the ticket to fight for the championship.

The time has finally come...

This is the chance I needed...

"I'm so close. So close"

Yet the night before the final day, my fever spiked up that I can barely breathe.

That's the day where I need to decide whether to play or put my health first.

But it was my dream. Not only for him but for myself too.

That's why my fever was left untold to my team members. Was kept as a secret to the coach.

Because I need to be in the court. At this moment, I need to be there.

That's why no matter how warm it was, no matter how dizzy I got, I kept going without looking back.

Because I finally decided that I will clutch the gold medal.

For our school, for our team, for our hardwork, and for him.

Even if I badly want to end it. I need to keep holding on to it.

Keep surviving.

Until we finally manage to take the last set we need to win.

That was the only time I got to breathe.

I felt my team embrace as we all fell to the ground in happiness.

Tears spill in my eyes as I finally got to laugh genuinely.

I did it

We did it!

Until the numb feeling of my body reminded me of the thing I chose to ignore.

After a few moments of celebrating, we handshake with the other team and while heading to the bleachers to take our supporters.

I felt the captain's hand on my back.

"Thank you because you keep going" she whispered as a small smile lifted from my lips.

"I have no regrets"

We bowed and thanked our supporters as I heard their cheers.

We didn't disappoint our school.

I looked up and saw the male volleyball team looking at us.

While his gaze was focused on me. I felt tears build up from my eyes as I showed a smile.

I was so happy, so happy I did it.

My happiness was immeasurable when I saw how his eyes seemed to rise a little that made my tears fall from my eyes.

Did I do it?

Did I finally make him smile.

My happiness was cut off short when my vision turned black. My own body is finally giving up on me.

It finally reaches its limit.

I started to wake up when I felt the cold towel on my forehead.

And his presence was the one that greeted me.

My eyes looked around and I saw I was in my hotel room and he was the one beside me.

"I'm sick Sakusa..."

I managed to stutter out before I felt the tiredness in my body.

"I know" he stated before he poured me a glass of water and set it on the side table.

He took a hold of my hand before he made me sit up. "You should drink"

He told me as I held the towel in my forehead and took the glass of water he was offering to me.

I drink all of it before setting it on the side table.

"Why are you the one with me?" I asked him before I removed the towel first so I could tie my hair up.

"Should I leave?"

He asked that it made me stare at him and saw he was wearing his mask as usual that made me sigh.

"It's just unusual for a person like you" I mumble as he took the comb before I managed to reach it.

"Let me"

I froze as I felt him touch my hair.

"Your actions are making me have second thoughts if you are really the Sakusa I know"

"Kiyo" I heard him mutter that made my breath hitched from his words.

"This is the only thing I can do" he started as I cherish this moment he was combing my hair for me.

"For a woman who almost risks her life just to not disappoint me" My heart warmed from his words as I looked over him through the mirror.

And I saw how my eyes turned glossy at that moment.

"You did a very dangerous thing there that your fever spikes up to 40°C" he continued before he put my hair in a ponytail.

"Never do that again"

I smiled at his words as I just decided to lean on the headboard so I can have more time to talk to him properly.

"I told you didn't I?" I finally spoke up the moment he took a seat on the end of the bed near me.

"I want to be worthy of a man like you. I want to bring the gold to you" his eyes found mine as I lift a small smile.

"Did I manage that? Those were the questions that first popped into my mind the moment we finally won" I breathlessly mutter as I played with my hands but not breaking off the eye contact from him.

"But only Sakusa Kiyoomi can answer that"

I felt how his eyes gloss a little that made me take a hold of his hand.

"Did I finally become worthy of your love?"

"The world made me feel average no matter how great I was" he managed to utter as I felt his hand tighten his hold on mine.

"Only you made me feel special"

"So Thank you"

"I really love you Kiyo" I stated clearly as I saw how thankful he was from how he gazed at our hands holding each other's palm.

"You made me start to treasure someone like you, Y/n"

And I can finally say without any hesitation.

That the first chapter of our love story officially began.

At the End of Spring Interhigh

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu anime #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq x y/n #hq anime #haikyuu x y/n #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #haikyuu kiyoomi #hq kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #Spotify

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cowgurrrl · 13 hours

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i love oftm fam so much 🥹 i would love literally any updates on them :)

OFTM GANG RISE UP 🗣️🗣️🗣️

How Could I Not Love You?

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: this isn’t my favorite but I miss them desperately

Summary: “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” [2.5k]

Warnings: newborn stuff, angst, the Garcia-Long family coming in clutch, god they are so in love it hurts, smutty dialogue toward the end but no smut because I chickened out

You don't know that you've ever been this tired. The girls have been in the world for a whopping two and a half months, and you feel like you've been awake for the entirety of those two months. None of the Miller kids are particularly good sleepers— even Sarah didn't sleep through the night until she was two and a half, which Joel conveniently forgot to tell you when you talked about having kids— but with the addition of the girls, it feels much harder. They wake up at different times throughout the night to feed, get changed, or be held, which complicates the rotation. Also, Sam's sleep schedule has regressed, and he's up at random times. Having three under five is not all it's cracked up to be.

You love Joel, and you love watching him be a dad, but your relationship has suffered through the just-barely-surviving stage of having newborns. You try to make time to watch a movie or just talk, but whenever you do, someone starts crying. Even if you're able to sit down for more than five minutes without a kid needing something, you're half-asleep and in no shape for a conversation.

It didn't hit you how much of a toll it's taken on you until you were up for one of the late-night feeds with Violet, and he lay there, watching you through the darkness. You turned to look at him and reached out with your free hand to smooth down some stray hair. He smiled sleepily and turned to kiss your wrist before whispering, "I miss you." You wanted to say that he doesn't need to miss you, and you're right there, but you weren't. Not really.

"I miss you, too," you whispered back, feeling the sting of the truth on the back of your tongue. You wanted to say more—to remind him how much you love him and tell him how you couldn't do this without him—but Sophia's tinny cry closed the window of opportunity before it could fully open.

You love your kids. You couldn't imagine anything better than watching them grow and interact with each other. They are so wanted and loved, but it still feels really fucking hard. You're sitting on the couch, feeding a baby while Joel bounces another and plays Army men with Sam, feeling like a horrible wife and mother, when the lock turns on your front door and your second family enters.

Carolina, Ryan, Elizabeth, Victoria, and Penelope descend upon your living room like well-meaning vultures, and you give them a confused look. Penelope immediately runs to Sam, and they embrace in their awkward toddler way before they scurry off to his room to play. Victoria, now nine and looking more like Carolina every day, gushes over Daisy. Elizabeth, in her teenage grace, plops down next to you on the couch and squeezes you, trying not to disturb Sophia too much.

"What are you doing here?" You ask Carolina, looking at her like she's a saint, and she smiles.

"I heard you could use a break," she says. You're about to argue with her and insist that you've got everything under control, but she stops you. "We have two and a half adults, play buddies for Sam and Daisy, and nothing to do for the rest of the day. Plus, I've been itching to hold a baby." She explains. You turn to look back at Joel, who is now babyless and standing next to a baby-equipped Ryan, and give him a look.

"Did you do this?" You ask.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world if we went to dinner alone?" Just the idea of an actual dinner is enough to make you waver. You've both been living off of takeout and Sam's leftovers since the girls were born, and you're dying for a change of scenery. There's more than enough frozen breastmilk in the fridge for the girls, and they're at ease with their aunt and uncle. Sam is ecstatic to have someone to play with, and Daisy looks excited to get some attention. Surely, a few hours couldn't hurt.

"Fine, but you can't make me wear pants."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joel says. Once Sophia is done feeding, you hand her off to Carolina and show Elizabeth where everything is. They don't need a rundown of everything a newborn needs, but it makes you feel better to ramble about their routine to make sure it all gets done.

With all the kids placated, you and Joel sneak off to your room to change out of the clothes you've been wearing for God knows how long. You put on a maxi dress and spray dry shampoo in your hair while Joel buttons up a nice shirt.

"Thank you," you say as you put on earrings, glancing at him in the mirror. “You didn't have to do this." He gives you a confused look but shakes it off with a quick kiss to your cheek.

"I wanted to. You deserve a break."

"We deserve a break," you correct, and he hums as he wraps an arm around your waist. Even though he hasn't been dealing with postpartum and breastfeeding problems, he's still been in the trenches with you. For a quiet minute, you stand together and take a breath for the first time in months. Yeah, you desperately needed this.

You quickly finish getting ready before your plans can get thwarted and are shooed out of the house by Carolina and Ryan. They promise to text you updates and have everyone in bed on time, but don't pressure you to come home early. "We've got this," Carolina says with enough conviction that you can believe her. Still, your anxiety spikes once you're down the driveway, and you have to convince yourself that everything is okay. Joel grabbing your hand and asking you a question pleasantly distracts you.

The autumn sun slowly sets over the California hills and casts a golden glow over Joel's face, catching the grays in his hair and beard beautifully. He's fifty now and older than he ever thought he'd be. He told you as much on the night of his birthday, along with his fears of being an older dad and husband. "I just don't wanna miss anythin'," he said. You reminded him that he was only fifty and he's in exceptional health for someone who spent most of his thirties and forties making music and bouncing around the world on tours. Plus, aging looks good on him.

You talk about little things like how he's scribbled lyrics onto a notepad he keeps beside the bed or how Daisy has adjusted to having three little kids around instead of one. You're in the middle of saying something when he makes a familiar turn, and you can't stop the laugh from leaving you as the restaurant comes into view.

"Are you serious?" You ask, looking at him with a big smile, and he shrugs.

"What?" He asks, as if he's not stopping in front of the restaurant where you had your first (contractually obligated) date.

"Joel, we haven't been here in…" you trail off as you do the mental math before gasping. It's ten years to the day of your first date. Guilt immediately pools at the base of your spine, but Joel just sits there with a smirk on his face. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize. I've been so caught up with Sammy and the girls and-" he leans over the center console and kisses you before you can continue rambling.

Normally, you make it a point to remember days like this. Your first date, breaking up, getting back together, getting engaged, getting married, all of it. That's why it's so shocking that you forgot about it, and on a milestone year, no less.

"I'm so sorry." You say, and he shakes his head.

"I didn't say anything, so it could be a surprise," he says. "I called Caro and Ryan about a month ago to set this up, and I rented out the whole restaurant, so it's just us. We don't have to worry about cameras or fans or anythin'."

Of fucking course, he would do something like this. You sigh and drop your head to his shoulder.

"I didn't even get you anything." You mumble guiltily. He chuckles and kisses your temple.

"You just had two of my kids. I think that's more than enough." He says. You could spiral about feeling like a bad partner (how could you forget when your life together started?), but you have plenty of time for that. For dinner, however, you're on the clock. So, you push the thoughts away for now and stare at your husband fondly.

"I love you so much it's stupid," you say, and he smiles.

"Right back atcha, baby." He says. Much like he did on your first date, he gets out first and gives the car keys to the valet before opening your door for you. You take his arm and walk into the restaurant with him. There's no need for a hostess since there's only one table set up in the space, and it's impossible to miss it. Beautiful flowers surround the table, already set with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red roses like the ones he turned up at your door with. He pulls your chair out for you and steals a kiss before moving to the other side of the table. Light, romantic music plays over the speakers, and the candle flickers in the middle of the table. It's perfect.

The bottle of wine is from the year you were married, and it has a special label bearing both your names. You haven't had any wine for almost a year, and Joel, knowing this, evidently pulled out all the stops. He pours each of you a glass and raises it in a toast. "Thanks for going on a second date with me," he says, and you laugh.

"Thanks for giving me a reason to." You say and clink your glass against his. The wine is amazing, and it's not just because you haven't had any in so long. You spend some time catching up with each other and talking about nothing important until a very nice waiter comes by to take your orders. Besides the waiter coming and going, you're left alone with Joel, with nobody crying or asking you for anything. It's nice, if not a little strange.

You take your time eating and drinking and giving Joel your full attention. You laugh together and get butterflies when he kisses your hand or brushes his knee against yours. It's a little silly to get so worked up over such small gestures, but it's been a hot second since you've had adult time, so you figure it's fair. God forbid you still find your husband attractive.

In the middle of dessert, a special request of Texas Trash Pie— which doesn't come close to his mother's but is still delicious— you look up from the dish and find whipped cream in his beard. You snort a laugh at the sight, and Joel furrows his brows.

"What?" He chuckles. You gather your napkin in your hands and reach out to wipe his face, not unlike you do with your son, and he blushes a little when he realizes what was making you laugh. "Can't believe you still like a mess like me." He says before taking another bite and somehow getting more on his face. Once you're full and pleasantly tipsy from the wine, you scoot your chair closer to Joel, and his hand finds a home on your thigh.

You can't stop staring at him. You track the changes you've watched unfold over the past decade: a little more grey on his temples, the creases next to his eyes a little more prominent, and his hair a little longer. He still has that indescribable sparkle in his eye that you think can only be a product of his joy. Your heart squeezes when it only intensifies as he looks at you.

"We've been together a long time," you say, and he hums. "Ten years, five kids, one dog, three finished albums, and one in the works."

"And four movies, an Academy Award, and how many others?" Joel chimes in, never the one to just accept praise, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," you say, making him smile. You grab his left hand and trace his gold wedding band back and forth and back and forth a few times before you look at him again. "I mean, considering everything, we've done pretty well for ourselves. Can you handle ten more years with me?"

"I'd take a hundred more years with you." He says so quickly it takes your breath away. "I'd do it all over again if it meant this would be our life."

"Even though we have to change shitty diapers and get no sleep?" You ask, the question betraying the sudden tears, and he laughs.

"There are worse things." Like thinking you'll never see each other again. Like running out of time. Like never seeing him in our children's faces. Yeah, there are much worse things. You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand.

"I love you." You whisper like you told him you missed him not even a week ago.

"I love you, too." He whispers back as he kisses you sweetly. The waiter lets you linger for another half an hour before dropping the check and very politely tells you they'll be closing soon. Joel leaves a big tip as an apology for staying so late and personally thanks all the staff who worked to make this possible. He's all Southern charm and manners, even as you leave the restaurant and wait for the car.

"Thank you for tonight." You say, and Joel gives you a look.

"Y'know, we don't have to go back just yet. The kids are all in bed. Carolina and Ryan said to enjoy each other." He says, and you squint at him, a smirk pulling on your lips.

"And what would we do with all that extra time?"

"I might've reserved a room in a hotel nearby, just in case. We can order breakfast to the room early and be home before the kids wake up."

"Do Caro and Ryan know about this?" You ask, but you already know the answer. You scoff a little and shake your head before stepping close to him. "You must've been really desperate to fuck your wife to plan all this, huh?" Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, and you swear, you feel him shudder.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna take such good care of you."

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