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#this made me like laugh bark

mwagneto · 2 years

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genuinely about to cry at the word for france in te reo māori. so like. almost every country name is just the english name but altered to only have letters that exist in te reo (so like canada = kānata, norway = nōwei etc) except france that is literally just fucking. wīwī. as in ouioui. imgoing to fucking die

#found it last night and it's the funniest thing ive ever seeeeeen it made me laugh so #much i couldn't stop coughing for hours afterwards but it was literally worth it. help mee #kei te mare tonu ahau :( it's been over a weeeeek smashes phone #te reo māori #aotearoa #barking #sorry for 2 a/otearoa posts within 24 hours i try to limit it to like once a month at most so i #dont seem insane but these were both relevant rn🙈#once a month thing is a joke i dont count it but like. yknow #languages #te wiki o te reo māori

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healingheartdogs · 20 days

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People who don't know dog body language who have pushy sketchy dogs are so awful to be around. I told our housemates that their dog Klaus doesn't like me when we went out to watch the eclipse earlier today because I didn't want to go in the fenced yard with him out and they were like "oh no he's fine don't worry." When he saw me he charged up to the fence, high flagged tail, snorting and barking and jumping at the fence and they still were like "oh he's friendly, he just wants to smell you, see his tail is wagging". Like my dude... tail wagging does not mean friendly, and what about the noises he's making rn sounds friendly to you?

Selene's sister grabbed him and I thought she was going to take him inside because she acted like she was going to, but instead she stopped halfway and just held him back while I came into the yard and then let him go to run up and sniff me, which he had very stiff body language the entire time he did so. For a while after that he ignored me because of the kids calling him away and was chill, but still kept coming over and sniffing me occasionally and was very tense each time so I just tried to stay calm and sweet talk him and didn't try to touch him to help defuse the situation.

Then I walked a little away from the group to point out a plant in the yard to Selene's mom which was a mistake because once I was out of the little circle we were standing in he started body blocking me, tense face, stiff body, whale eyeing, and then jumping at me and barking. They tried to call him away and were like "oh he's just trying to get you to play, sorry he's so demanding of attention." I started trying to walk toward the gate to leave because he very much was NOT trying to get me to play and I did not feel confident in their ability to control him, and he immediately did it again. And again they tried to call him away. And I got maybe another two steps before he turned right back around and did it again. And they called him away again saying he was just trying to play. Rinse and repeat for a total of like six times of him body blocking me, tense and whale eyeing, and then jumping at me and barking. All while they're just laughing like "Sorry, Klaus just really loves playing". Dudes your dog is actually behaving aggressively toward me right now, please get control over him so I can leave he is NOT TRYING TO PLAY WITH ME.

This is the second time I've been invited into the yard while Klaus was out and the first time they kept telling me the same thing but he was actually following me around growling at me then and they were still like "oh it's just cuz he doesn't know you yet, he'll warm up to you, he's friendly". YOUR DOG IS SKETCHY. I DONT WANT TO INTERACT WITH HIM. HE DOESN'T LIKE ME. PLEASE JUST PUT HIM INSIDE WHEN I'M IN THE YARD WITH Y'ALL. And PLEASE learn some dog body language because nothing about his right now says "friendly" at all!!!!! Not even a little!!!! TAIL WAGGING DOES NOT MEAN FRIENDLY, ESPECIALLY A HIGH FLAGGED TAIL.

#i will not be going back into the yard while he is out #i only did this time because they made it seem like they were going to put him inside #but then didn't #i do not trust that dog #and they are oblivious and just laughing while he is actively menacing me #cant tell them shit about it though because they act like we're criticizing their parenting if we do and get offended #and then be like 'well your dogs are out of control so what do you know' because my dogs bark at strangers #like... okay your dog growls at and menaces strangers???? mine just bark at strangers who talk to them and try to rile them up #and i dont correct them for that because its not worth correcting and also not their fault #your dog is actually dangerous and you dont have control over him #my dogs are not dangerous and when i tell them to be quiet and get inside they do #so who doesnt have control huh????#theyre just mad because theyre the strangers my dogs bark at sometimes and since i dont like how they interact with my dogs i allow it #because they are rude as fuck and do not respect my dogs' boundaries at all #and think that dogs shouldnt be allowed to have boundaries because they should be 'kid safe“ which really means shut down from punishment #thats how they are with klaus which is a big part of why i dont trust him too #because they have created a dog who gets punished for setting boundaries so that the kids can 'safely' climb all over him and annoy him #and to me that is a recipe for a dog that doesnt give a lot of warning before becoming aggressive because hes been punished for it #i do not trust dogs who have been punished for having boundaries #and i dont trust their owners either #also them doing that means their kids think they can do whatever they want to dogs and interact very rudely with them #so i dont let their kids interact with my dogs at all now because even with me constantly correcting them they ignore me and are rude #and that definitely is something theyre also salty about because their kids want to play with my dogs #and they also want my dogs to play with Klaus and there is mo way in hell I'd allow that which they also dont like #hes an intact bully who they have admitted can be 'really fiesty' with other dogs #and Hermes is an intact male who seems to have a 'kick me“ sign on him for other dogs and i just wont risk it #and it drives them crazy that i dont trust their strange dog not to be aggressive to my dogs and wont let them all be 'friends'#DOGS DONT NEED TO BE FRIENDS WITH STRANGE DOGS THEY DONT KNOW OR LIVE WITH #I hate ignorant pet owners that make their ignorance my problem #rant

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fictionallyinparadise · 5 months

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"Let me kill for you" Mylo vs "please don't" Will vs "we can make a date of it" Hannibal

#🍽️; bark like a god #this is stupid as fuck but it made me laugh #giggles cutely #self ship shitpost #(mylo is my s/is name btw‼️ hes fuckin insane)

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

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So the tire-eating potholes in my neighborhood finally killed both my rear tires and I had to get that dealt with, but while they were getting replaced, I put the dogs in puppy daycare and upon picking them up early, the attendant literally sprinted to the front desk, grabbed me by the shoulders and breathlessly exclaimed "YOUNEEDTOCOMESEEWHATYOURDOGSAREDOING"

While she escorted me back to the play yards, she explained that every time they have more than three Corgi, they have to put all the Corgs in a separate play yard because they turn into a little gang and bully the Very Large dogs by playing Cow Herding Simulator 5000 with them, and especially if Herschel is there, because corgis are bossy-pants dogs, and Herschel has the bossiest pants of them all and acts as leader.

Despite being a little Don Corgleone to the short bitch mafia, Hershcel is also a Huge Baby and will apparently cry and cry and try to climb the fence and cry and eat people's shoelaces and cry if he is separated from Charlie during playtime, so this means any time that "Corgi Party" is happening, Charlie also has to go to Corgi party, despite being full-height, running cat software and a senior citizen. he copes with being Gulliver amongst the Liliputians by climbing onto the roof of the playskool castle they have for a climbing structure in the yard, kicking the ladder down behind him, and stretching out to nap in the sun while the corgi frolic and gambol around him.

Corgi are dogs that make up and play games with secret rules, like kindergartners. "Everyone bark in sync" is a popular game, as is "follow the leader" and it's companion game "March in a circle around a tall structure like ants caught in a death loop".

So what I was greeted with, when the attendant and I snuck out to the play yard, was the sight of Charlie, sound asleep and flat on his back with his paws crossed over his chest because sighthounds sleep in the stupidest fucking positions, on top of a faux-medieval castle with gargoyles on the corners, surrounded by approximately seven Corgi, all trotting in a circle around him, barking in sync.

"They look like they're preforming some kind of ritual!" giggled the attendant as attempted to get my phone to focus.

"Yeah, they're gonna summon Corgtulhu." I said.

Unfortunately, this made the attendant literally fall on her ass laughing, and distracted Herschel and his compatriots, so they didn't get to complete the summons, and I didn't get the pic.

The attendant kept laughing because apparently she's new to puns, and had mostly gotten it under control by the time we got everyone's leashes on and back out to the front.

The manager was watching the front desk, bemused. Did you get to see them doing the ritual?"

"YEAH!" shrieks the attendant, still excitable with merriment. "THEY'RE- THEY WERE-" The attendant ends up giggling on the floor.

"You okay there Katie?" asked the manager with minimal concern.

"We think they were trying to summon Corgthulhu." I eplain, and Katie screams from the floor. "Wasn't gonna work though, you need a virgin sacrifice and Charlie had an STD when we got him."

It was the manager's turn to shriek. and for Charlie and Herschel to start barking in solidarity.

"That's right Charlie! Your sluttiness saved the world!" I told him, as he jumped up and kicked me in the face.

Anyway, that's why Charlie's nickname at daycare is now "Superman(whore)"

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If you found this story amusing, please consider donating to my Ko-fi or pre-ordering the Family Lore book on my Patreon so I can buy the good dogs more treats.

#Dogs #family lore #Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin #Charleston Chew

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chuluoyi · 3 months

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:30 P.M 」

cat anon, i'm holding you responsible for this very domestic and cute idea of indulgence, and ahhhhhh i just need more fluff—

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always, always so messy!”

“you never put the socks where they belong!”

“and lately you stink too!”

you were ranting a whole lot of your grievances to your husband as you munched on chocolate cookies from a jar, your face scrunched up and visibly vexed.

throughout it all, satoru took on your tirade with a very smooth smile, occasionally suppressing his impulse to burst into laughter, because what an adorable sight you were—all pouting with the swell of his child inside you, messing up your hormones.

“i stink?” he tilted his head to the side, blinking innocently, eyes crinkling with such fondness and a visible hint of laugh. “that can’t be—”

“you are! and you are home late too these days!” you puffed your cheeks, now chubbier—and you’re so freaking cute this way, there’s nothing satoru wants more than to smooch you, really.

“is that your way of saying that you missed me, hmm?”

“no! why would i?!”

“because i’m your very good-looking husband?”

“ew! no! you’re just a horny weirdo!”

that finally got him to outwardly snicker. “can’t you see that we’re doing an honorable deed? we’re increasing japan’s birth rate~”

it wasn’t the first time of you suddenly painting him up as the bad guy due to your raging hormones, and satoru was entertained each and every time. he always humored you without fail even when you got mad at him for no reason—in his eyes, you were just the height of cuteness, and he was ever so grateful that you were growing his baby at all.

later at night, after your bath, a softer part of you suddenly felt a tad bit guilty for roasting your husband—the hormones at play, heh—and now, wanted to snuggle up to him instead.

satoru’s eyes lit up in mischief when you got to the bed and pressed yourself to him.

“oh? so the wife now wants cuddles?”

“…can’t i? i’ve done a lot for you—carrying your baby is a job in and of itself.” you pointed at your bump with a pout. “see if you can find another girl who can put up with you and just ask for cuddles in return.”

“ehh? is that what you want me to do? go find another girl and forget you just like that?”

the idea made you frown and satoru immediately barked a laugh, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“aww, look at that cute face,” he tried to appease you, a stupid grin on his face as he poked your cheek, with you still frowning deeply. “no, no. that’s not going to happen~”

you were still giving him a very annoyed look, and satoru knew just what to make you soft for him again, as he pulled you by your chin closer and peppered your face with kisses—

“you’re” kiss “the only girl” kiss “i’ll ever love” kiss —yeah?”

safe to say, you melted into a puddle in his arms, ignoring the searing heat on your cheeks as you pressed your face to his chest, with him chuckling, wrapping one arm around you in a secure hold and roaming his other hand on your tummy, smile widening upon feeling a kick.

“well, kid, mama is such a sweetie, isn’t she?”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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smutstationchoochoo · 9 months

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Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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