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ohbother2 · 2 months

Note

hi i’m helluvapoison!! (also a side blog, so APPARENTLY i can’t send asks with it? rude, tumblr) anyways i wanted to say you’re amazing, phenominal, show stopping. i love your writing so. much.

i humbly request a nsfw lucifer/ reader (however you feel like formatting it) where he tries to cancel date night because reader looks too good, he’s gotta have em then and there. reader takes this and runs, spends the evening riling him up and maybe making him beg for it, if you could? i love sub luci but wanna give you creative freedome as much as possible

ok ok i hope you have a fantastic day buh bye and keep being amazing!

You're making me blush srsly

Also I absolutely loved this idea and couldn't help but immediately start planning a fic around it - I absolutely love how your mind works

This is kinda long, and is part 1 of 2 (sorry), but I personally much prefer the build up and think it needs enough time to really get going (wink wink) to make the pay off worth it

*ahem* not quite smut? It's toeing the line tbh - Minors DNI

Lucifer x f!reader - He Wants to Cancel Date Night

---

It wasn't a particularly significant day that Lucifer had chosen to designate your upcoming date, he had simply picked a random free day in his calendar, asked you if you were free, and then giddily instructed you to doll yourself up nice and be ready for 7pm to go out for dinner. He hadn't told you where you would be heading, but when Lucifer did decide to take you somewhere purposeful for a date, and not just take you for a leisurely stroll and a candle-lit picnic, he always went full-out, so you knew to dress to impress.

It had been a while since your last date night, the two of you often prioritising your time together and trying to organise something at least every two weeks. Due to both of your busy-ness with reconstructing Charlie's new hotel project after the last extermination, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones and muscles after a long day of construction, it had been a month since your last 'official' date.

Yourself and Lucifer had been dating for several years by now, but the early-stage giddiness remained, and you still loved impressing him when you dolled yourself up, and you honestly lived for his reactions when you wore something particularly nice. It had been a while since you had both indulged yourselves as a couple, and tonight, you wholly planned on blowing him away with what you decided to wear, and hopefully a lot more.

You had missed him a lot. Unbeknownst to you, he had missed you much more, and he himself had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready for tonight.

You currently sat at your vanity table, makeup and hair products strewn about its entire surface as you fixed up the finishing touches of your makeup in the large illuminated mirror attached to the desk. Your hair had been styled in an elegant updo, with curled strands of hair framing your face and caressing your rosy cheeks, not a strand out of place after the many hours you had spent perfecting the look. Your whole outfit had been coordinated purposefully, with the intention of wearing a ruby and gold jewellery set Lucifer had gifted you on your first anniversary, a favourite of yours, and a set which never failed to grab his attention. The elegant ruby pendant sat snug against your chest nestled amongst a gold chain, with a pair of ruby and gold earrings dangling from your ears to match. You adorned an equally vibrant ruby dress which cinched tightly at your waist and hugged your bust enticingly, clinging to your hips tightly and its hem digging lightly into your upper thigh. You pucker your rouge lips in the mirror, ensuring an even application as your bright eyes focussed intently, framed with smoky eyeliner and shimmering gold.

You stare at yourself contemplatively, scrutinising your appearance and tugging at a strap of your dress. You had no reason to be nervous, you were already dating the King of Hell, and he took every opportunity to show his devotion to you, but butterflies still swarmed in your stomach as you readied for the date, desperately wanting to impress him. In your eyes, Lucifer was a devastatingly handsome man, with the beauty of an angel despite his fallen status, able to sweep you off your feet with a disarming smile and his silky-smooth voice. He was an amazingly attentive and caring partner, and you could never ask for someone as understanding or perceptive, and god he really did still have the same effect on you, the butterflies only swarming more in your stomach as you thought about the blond man.

Speak of the devil: you jump lightly when you hear a gentle knock at your front door, and you give yourself one final glance in the mirror, a hand carding through a lock of loose hair before you respond.

"One second, Luci!" You call, prepared for him arriving a few minutes early, as he always did, standing from your seat and grabbing a small clutch-purse and a pair of gold heels from beside your bed as you hurry out into the hallway.

You place the items in your hands thoughtlessly on the staircase in the hallway, pausing before the door to straighten your dress, tugging the hem further down your thigh minimally and taking a deep breath before your hand lands on the doorknob. You swing the door open with a little too much enthusiasm, but the staggering smile that greets you has your worries subsiding as Lucifer beams at you, both of his hands rested atop his cane as he waits expectantly.

He had dressed himself incredibly well, a white suit with a burgundy shirt and pin-stripe burgundy waistcoat cinching at his unfairly trim waist, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique. He had abandoned his hat for the evening, and you feel your breath leave you at the way he had styled his blond locks away from his face, not a strand out of place and curling around his ears as he smiles oh-so-innocently, the apples of his cheeks rosy and pronounced with the way his grin stretched across his face.

Within his own mind, Lucifer was having an internal battle as his thoughts devolved to a jumbled and rather sinful mess at the sight that greeted him, your bright smile and rouge lips having his heart stammering in his chest as his fists enclose around his cane. You looked positively other-worldly, and the many compliments and greetings he had at the tip of his tongue die in his throat as his gaze flits up and down your body, not all that subtly. The dress left little to the imagination, and his gaze follows the long curve of your legs hotly, the shimmering stockings you wore seemingly accentuating your height. His gaze finally lands on the pendant nestled between your breasts, and a primal heat gathers in the hollow of his stomach when he immediately recognises it as the one he had bought you all those years ago. God, he loved when you wore his gifts, and he's even more ecstatic to see the matching earrings as his red gaze finally returns back to your face, a vision of beauty greeting him, looking far too happy to be in his presence as you smile lovingly.

"Angel, you look positively stunning." He immediately compliments you, bending at the waist and taking a hold of one of your hands in his gentle grasp, pressing a long, purposeful kiss against your knuckles, refusing to breaking eye-contact the entire time. You smile down at him, closing the door behind him as you comment.

"I love your new suit, it's unfair how handsome you are." He practically preens at the compliment, grinning at you as he leans against his cane, trying to make himself look as big and enticing as possible.

"I just need to grab some last minute things, if you wait in the living room I won't be long."

Ah yes, the date, he had nearly forgotten about that. You really did reduce him to a useless, thoughtless, mess. He hums as you walk past, eyes shamefully travelling down your torso as you walk away, not leaving your figure as you bend down to grab your heels and clutch from the staircase. Your dress really did leave little to the imagination, not that he had to imagine. He pulls his gaze away before you turn back around towards him, and he purposefully strides into your living room, pretending that he definitely was not just checking you out shamelessly, and that his throat definitely wasn't growing tighter and dryer with every second.

It had been so long since you both had been able to spend some much needed quality time together, usually spending your days around the habitants of the hotel as you worked, and then just returning home and collapsing into respective heaps after the many hours of labouring away to make Charlie's dream come true. He really was looking forward to this date, and he had been beyond ecstatic to be able to spend so many hours with you, and only you, after so long, but now that the time had finally arrived, he truthfully didn't want to leave these four walls.

Truthfully? He wanted to absolutely ruin the makeup and hairdo you had doubtlessly spent hours on, and he wanted to be out of his brand new suit as quickly as his hands would allow. He tries not to stare too openly when you enter the room, breathing in deeply at the strong smell of your newly sprayed perfume, watching with slitted eyes as you fuss around in a drawer, looking for something he didn't think you needed. He already knew it as soon as you had opened the door and knocked him back on his ass with that dazzling smile; he did not want to go on this date, he wanted you, and hopefully, you felt the same.

"I've missed you so much sweetheart." He practically purrs as he steps behind you, cane left leant against the back of the sofa as his hands land on either of your hips, chest pressed against your spine as he watches your reflection in the mirror hung above the side table. Your gaze flits up to meet his in the mirror, but your hands remain searching as you smile gently at him. You can see the way his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lilac-hued eyelids more visible than before as he stares into your own bright eyes intensely, and you immediately know where his mind had headed.

"I've missed you too, I'm so glad we've finally got a night to ourselves." You mutter, enjoying his warmth pressed along your back, tucking the little comb you had been searching for into your clutch. "You're not being subtle, I know that look."

"What look?" He questions coyly, and you can see his mischievous grin over your shoulder as he props his chin against you. "I'm simply in awe of your beauty." He presses a kiss against the column of your throat, and your head tilts to allow him to press another open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear. "And can you blame me?"

"Luci," You warn, turning in his grasp. His hands follow your movements, now resting against the small of your back as he grins at you, practically nose to nose. "we have a table booked."

"I'll re-book for another night, it's me, they'll fit us in whenever." He comments, prideful as ever. One of his hands comes up between your bodies to play with the ruby pendant nestled between your breasts, a finger running along the jewel and using the chain to pull you minimally closer.

"I've spent hours getting ready." You practically whisper, you can feel his breath fan across your neck as he studied the pendant.

"And you look absolutely ravishing," He purrs, eyes matching yours once again. "so this is all your fault really." He leans in for a proper kiss, but you turn your head so that his lips land against your cheek.

"You'll get my lipstick all over you for the dinner." You were finding it increasingly hard to tell him no, especially with the way his gaze heated across your face, sultry eyes enticing you invitingly.

"I don't mind." He hums, and you feel his grip tighten against your waist. "In fact, I think I'd love to be covered in your lipstick."

"What happened to the gentleman who was at my front door not only five minutes ago?"

"I am a gentleman!" He defends, smile quickly delving into something devilishly cheeky as he comments. "I'd return the favour, put your lipstick on me, darling, and there won't be an inch of you left uncovered."

You laugh to dispel the tension in your chest at the image, and how sinfully enticing that notion was. At the same time, Lucifer begins to laugh, commenting how 'gentlemanly' that action would be.

"You, are terrible." You push him away gently, and he follows your hands with a childish frown he doesn't even bother to conceal.

"If I ask nicely enough can we stay?" He leans back against the back of the sofa, puffing out his chest in the way he knew you loved. "I'm not a Saint, I don't think I can make it through a meal with you looking like this."

"Like what?" You ask deftly, enjoying toying with him as you begin fastening your heels.

"Like I could just eat you up." You immediately know what he's insinuating, and the point is only proven more with the way he cups his chin with his hand as he watches you, fingers placed purposefully either side of his lips. Anyone else wouldn't pick up on the concealed gesture, but you know him better, and you narrow your eyes at how hard he was chipping away at your resolve.

You had half a mind to just say yes, hike your dress up and have some fun right in the middle of your living room. But no, you had been looking forward to this meal for weeks, and you rather enjoyed the idea of toying with him throughout the meal - really, if he didn't want you to tease him all afternoon, he shouldn't have come across so desperate so quickly. You'd get your revenge for all this teasing, you definitely would, and it made it even better that you knew the thought wouldn't even be crossing his mind yet.

He grins to himself as he watches you closely, an idea forming in his head. "Let me help with your heels, at least."

"No." You comment quickly, beginning to tie the second golden heel.

"Wha- why?" He questions, sounding offended.

"Because I know you, and before I know it you'll be under my dress and we won't make it to our dinner."

"I can indulge in a little starter, I bet you're much more delicious-"

"Luci, you are-" Your words cut off at the shit-eating grin he adorned, clearly enjoying riling you up. "making this incredibly difficult."

"Is it working?" He all but sings, wiggling his brows as you step towards him, now a little taller than him with your heels fastened. He was having far too much fun at your expense, and you couldn't allow that. He looks up at you with a ridiculously fond smile, which only grows when your hands smooth the lapels of his blazer.

"Maybe." You hum, and you avoid his lips once again by pressing a single long kiss underneath the crook of his jaw, your left hand cradling the back of his neck to keep him in place. He sighs out a moan, relaxing back into the sofa and hands clenching against the fabric behind him, believing that his persuasions had finally won you over.

"Really?" He asks as you pull away from his throat, still tantalisingly close. Your eyes don't linger too long, but the bright red lipstick stain has you fighting away a grin at the achievement. And to think, he was none the wiser. He sounded so hopeful, and you nearly back out of your plan. But no, you were looking forward to this meal, and you were looking forward to making him suffer for the next few hours even more.

"No, now come on, we're late."

"What?" His voice immediately loses all of its confidence, a shattered whisper as he watched you with despondent eyes. You could see the way he deflated as you pull further away from him, beginning to head towards the door. His hands were still gripping the back of your sofa, but this time to keep him propped up at the devastating news. "Darling, that's evil. We can't leave now!"

"Patience, baby." You reprimand, and he pouts playfully to hide the disappointment in his chest. "Good things come to those who wait."

"Good things could be happening right now." He tries to reason, voice low as he tries to encourage you to change your mind. He was still propped against the sofa, and you hesitated at the doorway to the hallway, looking back at him with a torn look. You had made up your mind, however, and he wouldn't win so easily.

"Are you coming? Or am I attending our date alone?"

"Fine." He groans, picking up his cane and twirling it in his hands to try and distract himself as he follows after you, pausing in front of the mirror to check his appearance. He had spent a long time on himself, after all, and next to you he needed to look every bit the charming devil. He doesn't really intend to pay too much attention to himself, but the pronounced cherry-red lipstick stain pressed under the crook of his jaw in the unmistakeable form of your lips has him nearly snapping his cane in half as soon as he spots it.

"Sweetheart!" He calls immediately, voice an octave higher than it had been a moment before. You grin to yourself as you shrug on your sheer shawl, knowing he had seen your little gift. His head pokes around the doorway, and you can see how his eyes have widened to the size of saucer-plates as he hurries towards you, knuckles of his left hand white against his cane as he reaches for you. "You can't do that and then drag me to dinner." A hand reaches for you, but you're already opening the door with a laugh. "We're staying."

His hand misses you as you step outside, and he pauses at the front entrance, glowering down at you with a tight jaw and furrowed brows. He tries one final pathetic attempt. "I feel ill."

"You're a bad liar." You laugh, holding a hand out, waiting to take his arm expectantly, and you can see how he works his jaw as he realises he really had to go to this meal. "We've got all night to ourselves, you'll survive for a few more hours."

"I don't think I will with such a pretty thing on my arm." He mutters more to himself, but you still feel heat creeping to your cheeks at the compliment. Your resolve wins over, however, and Lucifer locks your door and pockets the key before offering out his arm, beginning to lead you towards an awaiting taxi. Oh, tonight would be fun, and the best part was, Lucifer had no idea how much fun you were about to have.

---

The drive to the restaurant had gone smoothly, and Lucifer had guided you to an incredibly elegant restaurant, far outside what you would attend by yourself, nestled deep within the centre of the Pride Ring where those with wealth and status liked to play and mingle. Lucifer had practically glowed with pride when you had openly gasped in the restaurant's foyer, and had kept his hand on the small of your back the entire journey to your table; a booth directly next to the inside balcony that looked over the lower two floors of the restaurant, with a great crystal chandelier hanging parallel.

Now, you both sat at opposite sides of the table with a menu each, a bottle of some expensive-sounding wine placed in the centre of the table and your glasses filled. Lucifer was happily chatting away, meanwhile you had been storming your mind to begin enacting your revenge.

"-I don't know why he's so stubborn about it! He's literally the embodiment of lust, how embarrassing can confessing feelings be after, after doing that." Lucifer pulls a face as he sets down his menu, wafting his hands about as he continues. "It's ridiculous! And after the way he treated me when I was panicking about asking to court you! That man is the biggest hypocrite in all of Hell, and I should know."

"He's probably just embarrassed, Luci." You hum, still looking over your own menu. "Sure he's the embodiment of lust, but being sexually attracted and emotionally involved are two completely different things."

"They've been sleeping together for years by now, surely someone must have let something slip during all those times. He's told me about everything they've done, despite me not even wanting to know, and they've done some, some absolutely-" He hesitates, searching for the correct word. "'questionable' things. I mean, you can't do all that and remain," A pause. "indifferent."

"Physical attraction is a lot more removed, I think." You comment, resting your menu against the table and looking over at him. "It's a lot easier to just be interested rather than involved, you're putting your heart on the line not just your pride. Like, as an example, we slept together way before we ever said 'I love you'."

"But I-" The blond's face pinches slightly, as if remembering something embarrassing. "I knew I loved you before we even got together, so that doesn't count."

"You didn't tell me though, that's the difference." You smile softly at him, heart swelling at the little confession. His sweetness really was making you rethink your plan for the evening, but then you remembered the way he had prepositioned you to skip starters altogether in the taxi in favour of something else, and your sympathy quickly dies. "If Ozzy actually says the words, Fizz could say no-"

"He won't, that man's even more obsessed than Ozzy." Lucifer slumps a little in his chair, looking at you hopelessly, as if you had all the answers to his dear friends' worries. "I don't know how much more of his pining I can take, I might have to confess for him at this rate."

Throughout the entire conversation, you had been slowly shimmying yourself lower in the booth you sat on, which was incredibly hard with the way the skirt of your dress tugged against the soft velvet fabric beneath you, trying not to accidentally flash yourself as you worked. Now that you were low enough down, but still looked as if you were sitting upright, you slowly reach your right leg out, uncrossing your legs to give yourself some extra reach. You nod along to Lucifer's lamenting, smiling distractedly as you search for his legs underneath the table with your own.

Finally, the tip of your heel brushes against a soft fabric, and your smile brightens for seemingly no reason as your foot hovers near Lucifer's ankle, tapping against it gently, once, twice. If he notices he doesn't indicate it, carrying on with his complaining, now having moved onto Fizz and away from Asmodeus. Your foot rests gently against his calf, pressing minimally into the light white fabric as you respond to him.

"And how long did it take you to confess to me, hm?" Your head tilts as you smily cheekily, and Lucifer pouts when he realises exactly what you were about to say. "If it's longer than whatever they've got going on, I think you deserve to be his confidante. I'm sure you put him through it yourself."

"I-" He sighs, unhappy with the reality. "But it's- it's so painful watching them! I think it pains me more because it's Asmodeus. If anyone in hell has the courage to do something like that, it's him."

Your foot inches higher, slowly, and you're now midway up his calf. He's still too enraptured in his own friends love life to realise.

"He's the embodiment of lust, not love. This is as far out of his comfort zone as anyone else."

Your foot continues to inch higher, and as Lucifer thinks with a slightly downturned lip, you heel presses inward towards his knee.

"I'd argue they go hand in hand! I don't see how-" He suddenly stops talking, eyes honing in on you and lip falling into a firm line. "What are you doing?" You continue to smile mindlessly, watching as he stares at you contemplatively, hands fiddling with his menu as he becomes startlingly aware of exactly how high your foot had managed to inch.

"Whatever do you mean?" You tilt your head innocently, foot inching upward again and resting on the inside of his calf, just below his knee. "Has the wine gotten to you already?"

You jest with a jovial smile, but Lucifer is staring at you as if he had just managed to crack the Rosetta Stone, skin paling under the warm glow of the candlelight, and mouth falling open slightly. Realisation of what this night would be hits him like a tidal wave, and he stares hopelessly as he finally understands your eagerness to come to the meal. His eyes were large and lightly panicked, and that panic only increases when your foot shifts higher, pressing into the side of his knee playfully.

"Y/N, sweetie, you can't be serious-" He sounded like a man who had just figured out he had been sentenced to deaths row, and he certainly looked as if he had just received the news. ''you- you told me later."

"I'm not doing anything!" You grin devilishly with your chin rested atop your interwoven hands, and in that moment Lucifer knew he was in for a world of trouble. He stares at you tensely, silently pleading with you to let him enjoy the meal in somewhat peace. It was hard enough looking at you, nevermind with your foot inching higher and higher and beginning to press pleasantly against the lowest part of his inner thigh. "So, do you think Fizz will confess first?"

"I think coming to this restaurant was a mistake."

"I'm really enjoying my time." You chirp around a laugh, grinning as he shifts in his seat, your foot beginning to rub against his inner thigh slowly, up and down, each caress inching higher and higher. "Relax. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself once the food arrives."

"I think I should've locked the door behind me when I arrived and kept you in the living room." He laments to himself, and you have to hide the way the comment has heat rushing up your neck. No, you were playing with him tonight, not the other way around. To prove a point, your foot presses harsher into his thigh, and you watch as he glances at his lap before settling his sight back on you.

"It really is a beautiful restaurant, and you booked a wonderful table, so secluded. Very romantic."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, I am."

The smile you send him has him nearly standing from the table, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the restaurant and into the nearest alleyway. It was a look that promised so much more than he had planned for this meal, and the fact that it was aimed at him had him sweating under his collar and regretting his teasing earlier in the night. He really was at your mercy, and he knew that you were aware of that, and that you had no intention of making this meal easy on him. He glowers at you from across the table, more upset with himself than you: he should've begged harder at your doorstep.

The waitress takes that moment to return with a smile and a writing pad, asking about starters and entrees and how you both were finding the wine. Lucifer goes to open his mouth to cancel the afternoon but you are two steps ahead, as always, ordering your meals with a sickeningly sweet smile and then redirecting your attention back to him, who now has to order food he doesn't even want for the sake of saving his image.

"-and I was wondering about the bourguignon, is it possible-" He nearly smashes his knee against the top of the table when you press the toe of your heel to the highest point of his inner thigh, grazing dangerously against his bulge and tugging his trouser material taut. He splutters for a moment, making a show of clearing his throat to hide his absolute shock, and clears his throat as he attempts to smile at the concerned waitress. "Ah, sorry, I'm a little under the weather but we've had this meal planned- anyway, could I please have that w-without-" His voice audibly warbles when you rock your foot slightly, pressing directly into the side of his bulge and continuing to watch the interaction with a grin. He has to clear his throat again. "without mushrooms please."

You continue to toe against his bulge as the waitress recites your orders back to you both, his hands clenching against the edge of the table as he attempts to nod along to whatever the waitress was saying. His hips attempt to shift away from your agonising touch, but you only stretch your leg further, pressing harsher and continuing to rock at that agonisingly slow pace.

"Excellent, thank you." He maintains his unsteady smile until the waitress is long gone, and then he's staring at you and breathing a little harshly as your foot continues to rub against him.

"Darling-"

"You look stressed, baby. Is something wrong?"

"Is this why you wanted to come to this meal? Just to toy with me?" He sounded like a woman scandalised, and something in his jaw twitches when you drag your foot back to the curve of his knee, before caressing as far in as you could reach.

"Depends, is it working?" You parrot back at him from earlier, and he takes a deep breath as he realises this was entirely his own fault.

"Of course it is."

"I thought you wanted to indulge yourself before our starters? Relax, indulge yourself."

"This-" His voice cracks again when you completely leave his thigh and toe directly against the centre of his problem, rocking up and down instead of side to side. His shoulders tense as his legs instinctively part at the contact, knees spreading slightly despite the agonised look he adorned. "isn't what I had in mind."

"Huh, this is exactly what I had in mind."

"Think about this," His breathing had become slightly harsher, and his hips twitched when your heel tugged the material of his trousers a little too tight, a dull pleasure slowly spreading that he was desperately trying to ignore. You laugh loudly at the desperate way he had already begun to plead, and to think, your starters hadn't even arrived yet. His voice drops as he whispers at you. "you want me walking out of here with ruined trousers? Because keep this up and keep looking at me that way and that's what's going to happen."

"I've barely done anything Luci." You shake your head feigning disappointment, foot stopping its ministrations and just resting right against his centre. "But don't worry, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I did."

"Punishment?" He whispers bewildered, leaning forward in his seat and across the table to emphasise his disbelief.

"You're too pretty to throw yourself at me before our meal and expect me to just get over it." You tut, grin widening as he continues to gawp. The rosy hue of the apple of his cheeks had darkened considerably after the compliment. Oh, this was too easy. "If I have to spend the rest of this night in," You pause, leaning forward and dropping your voice to whisper seductively. "ruined underwear," A pathetic little sound catches in his throat, and you grin wickedly as his hips twitch against you. "I think it's only fair I have some fun."

"We could've stayed, I could've taken care of you." He really did have the sweetest way of wording things. In reality, he was envisioning you pinned beneath him on the sofa as his tongue and fingers set to work, and he was growing increasingly infuriated that he wasn't doing just that right now.

"You've not even let me kiss you yet." He begins, a hand reaching out to caress yours across the table, and you tilt your head playfully when you feel his breath fan across your face. "Isn't that punishment enough?"

"And you won't if you don't start behaving." The way your voice had taken on an authoritative tone has heat climbing up the nape of his neck, and his fist clenches tighter against the fabric draped across the table. "How can you expect me to behave when there's such a handsome man pleading with me? You're the gentleman, you should woo me until a much more acceptable time in the evening. This is a date, after all, where's the gentleman who asked me to come here?"

"You killed him when he saw you wearing that sinful outfit."

"Pity, because he won't see what's underneath until he returns." Lucifer can feel himself twitch within his trousers and it takes a great degree of self control to stop a whine from leaving his dry throat. You really had no idea just how you were effecting him, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to try and get some air to the nape of his neck, he was surely going to combust soon.

You couldn't leave it there, and your fingers caress his own outstretched hand as you release the killing blow. "Understand?"

"God," He groans around a shuddering breath, pupils dilating as he shifts back in his seat. His trousers were growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the heavy weight of your foot against him made him startlingly aware of how little control he actually had. "yes."

"Good." You grin, completely unfazed by the entire conversation. Lucifer, however, had taken on a rather sickly complexion, with his cheeks and neck startlingly red against his pale pallor. You immediately steer the conversation in another direction when you notice the waitress heading towards your table with your starters, and the blond's despondent look as you begin chattering about something else has your ego inflating and satisfaction brewing in your chest. You were right, this was going to be a fun night.

---

You had let up with your teasing throughout the starters and the wait for the entrees, and Lucifer had returned to a far healthier appearance than before. He hadn't fully recovered, however, with his own imagination running off and assaulting his mind with downright sinful images as he tried to focus on his food and converse with you. Currently, he was rather lost in a fantasy of ducking under the table, pushing your underwear to the side, and actually eating something he craved, and not relenting until you had finished every scrap of food on your plate. He had had to shrug off his blazer, which now lay neatly folded next to him, and his burgundy shirt sleeves had rolled up to expose his forearms and try and get some cool air to his heated skin.

Yes, you had relented with your teasing, but you had given his mind all that he needed to have him thoroughly wrecked for the rest of the evening. He was doing a poor job of controlling his thoughts, and truthfully he didn't want to.

"Mmm." You hum, bringing the first forkful of your meal to your lips and humming as the flavour reached your tongue. "This is amazing, I don't think I've ever tasted anything better."

He watches with heavy eyes as you bring another forkful to your mouth, and his chest raises when you make direct eye contact with him as you moan again, a quiet little sound that no one else in the bustling restaurant would hear, but that he could pick up on like a gunshot through a forrest. He watches as you do the same again, and his forked tongue comes out to lick across his lips as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it as he thinks about the sounds he could entice from you if you just let him. This time, you hum slightly louder, making a show of playfully rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you close them, savouring the flavour on your tongue. Lucifer has to spread his legs under the table to make room for the half-hard bulge he'd been fostering that was now beginning to grow again. He loved you, but you were a cruel woman.

"Not hungry, Luci?" Your question was innocent enough, but all he could envision was throwing the plates to the side and dragging you on top of the table to have his way with you. Reputation be damned, he would do so if you gave him the nod.

"Positively starving." His voice was uncharacteristically low, not even sparing his food a glance. He hadn't even picked up his cutlery yet.

"Your meal looks great, I'm kind of jealous. If we ever come again I think I'd order that."

He wasn't paying attention to a thing you said, instead watching as your hands wrapped unusually around the top of your wine glass - a fancy looking tall slender intricately designed glass that emphasised the restaurant's heightened status - taking a negligent sip, and then placing it back down onto the table. You didn't place it down normally, however, and you watch Lucifer closely as your hand remains clenched around the glass, stroking all the way down to its base before tapping a polished nail against it. You can see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and you twist your wrist and hand around its base before letting it go.

"Everything okay, baby? If there's something wrong we can send it back."

"You," He takes a deep breath to compose himself, his nails digging into his palms as your foot resumes its gentle caresses against his inner thigh in some semblance of a comforting notion. "are something else, sweetheart."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"And I think you're going to kill me before I can ever ask for the bill."

"I'd hope not, I've been looking forward to dessert all day." You purr, foot once again resting in between his legs. His eyes nearly roll at the contact, and his fists clench tightly around the cutlery he had just picked up as his mind absolutely runs with the possibilities after your meal. "Something sweet, I think. Apple crumble, maybe?" His gaze snaps from the piece of meat he had just skewered with his fork to your dark gaze, the gold framing your eyes glinting enticingly and churning his stomach. "I think I'd rather just have the apple, really."

His hips involuntarily jolt towards the pressure of your heel against him, and the food he had brought halfway to his mouth is thoroughly forgotten as you grin at him from across the table, taking another sip of your wine.

"I-" He stammers, scrambling for the suave flirtatious version of the King of Hell as he tries to muster a response. "that can definitely be arranged, darling."

You smile as he finally begins eating his meal, seemingly intent on finishing it as quickly as possible, but that upturn of your rouge lips turns dangerous when you decide he was rushing this meal far too fast. This was an expensive restaurant with some of the finest foods in hell: he should savour it.

"Ah!" You yelp in surprise, your knife 'falling' from the table and clattering against the floor. "Sorry- you distracted me." You lie not that convincingly, but Lucifer is too distracted in his own mind and too prideful that his stumbling attempt at flirtation has you so flustered to question your behaviour.

You smile at him innocently as you lean down, commenting loudly about how you couldn't see the knife as you lower yourself completely from your seat onto your knees and under the table. You wait a moment, spotting the knife immediately and crawling over it as you reach for Lucifer's legs, your cheeks hurting with the size of the grin that stretched across your face. Both of your hands come to rest on both of his ankles, gripping them firmly as he jolts, pinning them apart as you hear his cutlery clatter from above you.

The darkness under the table is suddenly illuminated as he tugs the table cloth up, a pair of wide bright yellow eyes immediately gazing down at you as your fingers slowly travel up his shins.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He all but hisses, but his voice is high pitched and airy and resembles more of a desperate whine than a genuine question.

"Shh." Your hands rest on either or his knees, and you push them further apart as he gapes down at you. "Continue eating, I won't be long."

"No, no." He stammers, but his legs fall open easily. You can see his eyes jerk back up to survey the little entrance to your secluded booth, terrified of being caught. "Please, don't. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." You encourage, hands resting heavily on his inner thighs, feeling the heat of his legs from beneath the thin material. "All you have to do is sit pretty and be quiet. I've got the rest."

"I can't." And as if to prove his own point, a choked wet sound catches in his throat when you prop your cheek against his knee.

"You're right," You contemplate, and he breathes a sigh of relief that quickly withers in his throat when he sees that you have no intention of coming out from under the table. "you have to keep talking or someone might get suspicious. Tell me a story."

His mouth falls open in disbelief, but you tug the table cloth from his hands and push it up against his lap to fully hide what you were about to do. He stares doubtfully at the white tablecloth that hid you from view, fists clenching atop the table as he swiftly regrets ever trying to convince you to stay at your home.

"Sweetheart, please-"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me a story, so you better make it a quick one." He doesn't move for a moment, and neither do you, but your nails dig into his thighs when you hear him pick his cutlery back up with a tense sigh.

"I don't- God, I can't think with you-" He mutters quietly, voice hitching when your palms slide up, fingertips caressing his prominent bulge straining against the white cotton of his trousers. You press a kiss to his inner thigh, careful not to leave a lipstick stain behind, and you grin when he moans and spreads his legs, hips pushing closer to your searing touch.

"The hotel? I saw you arguing with Alastor earlier." You offer helpfully, a palm resting flat against the outline of his dick and fingers curling around him horrifyingly lightly. You twist your wrist slowly, featherlight touches caressing through the white fabric as your other hand snakes lower, cupping his balls and squeezing.

Another choking sound, and you can feel the way he sucks a deep breath into his lungs.

"Y-yes. He was being his usually horrid self-" You press a kiss against the tip of his bulge, and this time a whine heaves from his throat that he silences by biting into his fist, face twisting in pain as he breathes deeply. He pushes his hips towards you, and your hands grab either of his hips and pin him in place as your brows furrow disapprovingly.

"That's not very gentlemanly of you." You tut, and you know he hears you when a choked whimper reaches your ears. Above you, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, blond locks beginning to unravel from their neatly combed style as he steadily loses his composure that he had been clutching to all evening. You rest heavily against his thighs and hips, hands clenched into his belt loops and preventing him from shifting as you gather saliva on your tongue.

"Uh- He was moaning about some- some furnishing-" His voice cracks when you lean forward, licking a defined line straight across his length. He can't feel the wetness, but he knows exactly what you did.

"Honey, please-" He had stopped trying to barter with you altogether, plainly begging in that small voice you loved, breath hitching around every word.

"You've not finished your story."

"Ngh-" He groans to himself, panting and staring at his half eaten plate. It is then he realised your plate was completely empty, you didn't even need the goddamn knife. His shoulders and neck are impossibly tense, and his jaw aches with the way he clenches his teeth to stop any more sounds from spilling past his lips as one of your hands leaves his belt to cup his balls once again. "I-I don't want to talk about him while you're doing that."

You giggle to yourself from under the table. He loved the sound, but it was the furthest thing from innocent he had ever heard. "And who else would you rather talk about?"

"I don't." He practically whines, trying to lower his voice back to some degree of normality. "I want you. Please can we leave."

"Oh, no no." You shake your head with a laugh. "You think you've been good enough? You've been nothing less than a mess all evening, not gentlemanly at all."

Suddenly, his hands are gripping your wrists and yanking you from his beltloops, and you're about to tell him off before you hear another woman's voice chattering above you. You sigh to yourself, collecting the knife and beginning to crawl back into your own seat.

You sit back up with a gentle smile, fluffing your hair as the waitress glances at you, a perplexed smile on her face. "Sorry, I dropped my knife. I'm so clumsy it's terrible, isn't that right dear?"

Your gaze finally lands on Lucifer, and your chest expands in pride at how disheveled he looked. The familiar flaming heat had once again licked up his neck and cheeks, both of which were a startling red as he sucked deep breaths into his lungs. His shirt had become slightly wrinkled from the way that he had gripped at his tie, and some of his blond locks had fallen from their neat style. He was still an utter vision of sophistication and charm, but the frays at the edges were beginning to simmer inwards.

"Oh, honey," You feign surprise, but Lucifer's jaw works when he sees the utter lack of sympathy in your eyes. "maybe you really weren't lying earlier, you don't look well."

"I'm fine." He all but grits out, voice having lost some of that chipper charm it usually carried, a muscle in his jaw tense. "I was just saying how lovely the food has been and how I think we're done."

"Ah, yes. It really has been amazing." You smile at the waitress, who had begun clearing the plates away and piling them into her arms. Your gaze shifts back to Lucifer, and his brows furrow lightly in confusion at the sickly sweet smile you sent his way. "We were actually hoping to try some of your desserts? I think we decided on the apple crumble and the cherry roulade, right dear?"

If he hadn't been such a composed man, Lucifer may have started crying then and there. He felt as though the world had been tugged from under him and that he was falling into a baseless abyss, and the little composure that he had been clawing to his chest nearly tore in two as he realised he couldn't say no without looking like an absolutely terrible date. He stares at you with disbelief for a moment, brows raising as he tries to muster the courage to agree with you.

"Uh, yes. If you wouldn't mind that'd be great." He hands the waitress a side-dish, eyes looking incredibly watery all of a sudden. "Thank you."

With a nod and a comment about the time you'd both have to wait for the dessert, the waitress takes her leave, leaving yourself and Lucifer in deathly silence.

Lucifer was staring at you as if you'd just torn his heart from his chest and stomped on it right in front of him, with large wet eyes watching your hopelessly as you continued to sip from your glass of wine, smiling over at him with your rouge lips. For a moment, it looked as though he had stopped breathing altogether, but then his tongue wets his lips and he opens his mouth, a small sad dejected voice coming out.

"When you were talking about dessert-"

"Yes, the apple crumble, I can't wait to try it!" You chirp happily, and it takes all of your restraint not to laugh openly at the way his eyes fall down to his lap despondently. "What happened to your hand?"

His lips purse as he flexes his right hand atop the table, the unmistakeable mark of teeth red and glinting in the candlelight. You can see two prominent fang marks across his knuckle and thumb as you lean across the table, tiny droplets of blood having crusted along their surface. How you wished you could've seen him do that, you cross your legs tightly at the images conjured in your head. Truth be told, your own teasing was getting to you as well. From the looks of it though, Lucifer was crumbling much faster.

His desperate gaze lands on you. You knew what had happened to his hand.

You laugh, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry." He leans forward as he talks, and your eyes alight with something indistinguishable as he tries to appeal to your better nature. "You have no idea how sorry I am for earlier. I'll do anything- please can we take our desserts home? Sweetheart, please."

Your head tilts, faux confusion flashing across your gaze. "I appreciate the apology Luci, but I don't know what you're apologising for. I'm just carrying on what you started."

"I can't sit here for another moment." His voice had taken on that whiny pitch you loved, and your tongue wets your lips as both of his hands grasp one of your across the table. "Please can we go home."

"Of course," You hum, and he perks up in his seat before you begin talking again. "as soon as we've finished. I've been looking forward to this dessert all month. You've made it this long, one more course won't hurt."

His throat tightens painfully as he continues to grip your hand in his own grasp. The aching in his trousers was becoming unbearable, and to have you deny him after toying with him so openly gave him a sort of whiplash that had him nearly shoving his own hand down his trousers to just give himself some sort of release. He had been wanting since the moment he first saw you that night, and he was so close and yet so far from actually having you.

"Look, dessert's here now. Won't be long."

You both pull away as the waitress approaches, settling the two desserts in the centre of the table.

You immediately tug the apple crumble towards you with a grin, and Lucifer watches with the little self-restraint he had crumpling into an ashen heap as you immediately spoon a hefty helping of apple into your mouth, humming as you swallow. He doesn't even try to hide his thoughts anymore, eyes watching the column of your throat as you swallow, hands weekly pulling his own dessert unhappily towards himself.

"This really is an amazing restaurant Luci." You comment, leaning across the table and watching as he begins his own dessert, your own spoon dancing from your fingertips. "I'm so glad you brought me. In fact, I think this is my favourite date we're ever been on."

He hums at you, eyes squinting playfully as you continue to tease him.

"And you look so good, I can't lie you nearly won me over before we left my house, but I'm so glad I convinced you to come out. I've loved every minute."

You were being downright cruel, and the compliments went straight to the flaming heat in his boxers as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to give himself that tiny bit of friction he desperately craved. He tries to remain composed, despite his flaming cheeks and the sweat that beaded along his back and chest, resting his head on his left hand, munching slowly on the chocolate and cherry dessert. It really was an amazing restaurant, but he hardly remembered any of the food he had eaten, his thoughts and senses completely enraptured by you the entire evening.

"I would love to try your dessert though, it looks like you've ordered the better thing every course." He glances from his plate to you, confused at what you were insinuating. The last time you had spoken about dessert, he had been sorely mistaken, and so he sits, too apprehensive to really do anything for fear or disappointing himself.

You place your spoon down, leaning across the table and pushing your chest out tantalisingly, pearly white teeth visible as you smirk, a hand reaching forward and fingers curling around his collar. His eyes flicker between your sultry gaze and your heaving chest, and yet he remains rigid in his seat, absolutely terrified of raising his hopes.

"Darling-?" He questions softly as you tug him closer, following your hands with ease as your breath fans across his lips.

"Just a small taste."

And then your lips are on his and he openly groans into your mouth as you finally give him what he wants. His hands leave the table ledge to cradle your jaw, pulling you in closer as his lilac-hued eyelids close, tilting your head to give him better access as his brows furrow. Your tongue darts across his lips, and he invites you in willingly, another moan catching in his throat as you hungrily lick into his mouth, his tongue battling with yours as one of your hands clenches into the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull away all too soon, and he collapses back into his seat a red, panting, mess, lips glossy, gazing at you with disbelieving amber eyes, utterly and completely smitten. He watches you pick your own spoon back up from its place on the table.

"The cherry's nice, but I do think I prefer the apple."

As soon as you finish the last spoonful, Lucifer is calling the waitress over and requesting the bill, practically vibrating in his seat as you watch him leisurely. This had been one of your favourite dates, and you didn't intend on letting this be the end of your fun.

---

Tag List - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @cyberpr1m3 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @froggybich

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #Lucifer x reader #Hazbin Hotel Lucifer smut #hazbinhotel smut #Hazbin Hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer magne #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader smut #smut #lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer

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yakisabajanai · 1 year

Text

#every time i get low on meds im like hmmm theyre not really helping that much anyway not worth the time effort money to renew my prescripti #but then a week later im crying over the stupidest bullshit snapping at everyone judging literally anything anyone does ever #and considering kms regularly. also spent fucking like all the savings from my last paycheck on arknights #and thats like. the first paycheck in at least 7 months ive been able to save anything #and i feel guilty for fucking up time and time again so i get suigidal again and its just a cycle and ugh #tired...

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number1mingyustan · 4 months

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-Cuffing Season-

His Home

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, cursing, explicit smut, somnophilia (consensual), wet dream, grinding, scratching, squirting, oral (f.), fingering (f.), size kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, super fluffy ending :))

Summary: You’ve spent so much time missing one another, but in the end it’s all worth it

Word Count: 2.6k

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The door shuts with the faintest click and Mingyu is met with darkness. He slips his shoes off, leaving them next to the kitchen door before he quietly makes his way toward the bedroom.

Even though it's dark, Mingyu feels refreshed to be home. You have no idea though, he's here 11 hours earlier than he's supposed to be. He managed to book a last-minute flight to come home earlier because he missed you so much. It's three in the morning and he doesn't want to wake you, but being back in his home is already making him feel complete again.

He leaves his suitcase and his briefcase in the kitchen. He'll worry about it later, he's got one thing on his mind and that's you. His luggage can wait, the love of his life is in the bedroom 30 feet away from him.

He makes his way inside, remaining as quiet as he can. He strips himself of his outside clothes, leaving him in nothing but a wifebeater and his boxers. He slips under the covers next to you and gently pulls you against him as he inhales. The bed dips and purely out of reaction, you lean into his touch. His chest falls as he sighs with satisfaction.

Home.

He's holding you in a spooning position, chest pressed against the back of your head with his arm around your waist. He feels complete, something his life has lacked for the past three weeks.

He presses a light kiss on your shoulder as he holds you. He hears you mumble his name lightly, your body recognizing him before your mind. You press your back closer against his chest and exhale softly.

A small smile makes its way onto his face. He's so happy to have you back in his arms like this. You're pressing your back closer against him, almost intentionally. "Baby?" He rasps. "You awake?"

He knows he heard you mumble his name and you're pressing your body closer against him. But then he hears you whine and it's your butt that's being pressed closer against his body.

Oh fuck.

You can't be doing this to him right now. That wasn't your usual sleepy movement, it was more than that. The way you're breathing and practically fucking grinding against him is driving him insane. It's making him hard in his boxers and lighting a burning desire deep inside of him.

Mingyu is having an internal battle as to whether or not he should wake you. You're not just tossing in your sleep, he's well aware of that.

But shit.

He's been in bed with you less than 10 minutes and you're already grinding on him in your sleep. You're just as obsessed with him as he is with you and he's having a hard time containing himself. Two and a half weeks without his touch has got you reacting to him without even realizing it.

His hand moves from your waist to your wrist. Once he feels the thin bracelet between his fingers, it's over.

Fuck it.

" 'M gonna take such good care of you," He mumbles, allowing his hand to slip into your panties.

He's not even really concerned about waking you anymore. He's being selfish, needs to touch you, maybe he'll even let himself have a taste.

You're only starting to get turned on, to which he lets out a small 'tsk' of disapproval. He needs to have you soaking and needier for him. He buries himself under the covers, making his way between your thighs. He pushes you onto your back, spreading your legs open and pushing your panties to the side.

He can hear your breathing change from above him. He immediately licks a long stripe along your folds. He can literally hear your breath get caught in your throat when he does so.

You push your hips up out of reaction, moaning quietly when his tongue presses against your folds again.

"So eager," he mumbles to himself.

He then latches his mouth around your clit, sucking on the hardened bud. Instinctively, your legs close around his head, but he forces them back open.

"Hah-fuck... Gyu," You pant.

Mingyu's cock is throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his boxers, but he's ignoring it. He's grinding against the sheets ever so slightly, but his focus is entirely on you.

His mouth is all over you, licking and sucking up all your pleasure. But fuck, you're still gushing.

He can't help himself. Once he can feel your arousal literally coating his chin, he slips two fingers inside of you.

He's surprised you haven't woken up yet. You're so reactive, especially when his fingers are moving inside of you just right, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

You probably think you're dreaming this up.

"More... Fuck, Gyu," you whine.

You're lifting your hips again, pushing into his touch. His fingers pick up in speed, applying a little more pressure inside of you. He swirls his tongue around your clit in small circles, making you cry out his name. Your orgasm hits you suddenly and you're releasing all over his face.

You wake up with his tongue on you. You haven't the slightest clue how long he's been down there either. It's evident that he's been enjoying himself though. Toying with you and listening to the sinful little noises that escaped your lips as he savored every drop of your arousal.

You blink a few times, allowing your eyes to focus on the scene between your thighs. You're trying to register what's going on with shaky legs and the aftermath still pumping through your body. Your orgasm is evident all over his face and you swear you've never seen him happier.

"Good morning gorgeous," he grins.

He pulls his fingers out, making you snap your legs closed instantly. You were barely able to register your orgasm, yet your body is still sensitive. Your mind is still hazy and you're still figuring out if this is a dream or reality. But you do know for certain how relieved your body is and that you feel incredible.

"Gyu?" You rasp out in confusion.

His body now hovers over yours. You can feel his hard cock pressing against the inside of your thigh. It is very real and in desperate need of relief.

"Sorry baby, just needed a taste. You forgive me though, right?" He licks his lips slowly.

"Fuck," you whisper. "I missed you like crazy... thought I was dreaming."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He kisses you back just as hungrily, allowing his eyes to fall shut and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You're still throbbing, mind and body screaming: more more more. You've spent the past three weeks missing him and you're sure as hell going to make the most of it now that he's back.

You wrap your legs around his torso, pressing against his clothed cock. It twitches against your inner thighs, aching to feel you. "Fuck me... please," you break the heated kiss.

He sits up, pulling his boxers off and allowing his hard cock to spring up and slap against his lower torso. It's big and heavy in his hand. Hr strokes his length slowly, pressing the tip against your folds.

You're both breathing heavily in anticipation as he drags his length against your pussy. He sighs in satisfaction as you soak his cock with your arousal.

"Missed this pussy so bad," he mumbles to himself as he pushes his tip into you.

You moan out at the feeling of him stretching you open. He's not even halfway in and you find yourself struggling. His large body is hovering over you, face pressed against your neck as he tries to ease his way into you.

"So tight," He groans.

He pushes his hips against yours a bit more to fill you up, but you're making it hard for him. He's got you soaked after he fingered you and went down on you yet there still seems to be a struggle. He's just so big.

"Fuck," You cry out. " 'S too big Gyu."

"Hasn't been that long baby," He tsks. "You can take it."

You squeeze your eyes shut, instinctively clenching harder around him. Mingyu winces and scoffs. " 'S really too big," you whine.

"Look at me," he says.

It's still dark in the room, but the moonlight peaking through the window perfectly illuminates his face. You blink your eyes open, meeting his soft brown orbs.

"You're just not trying hard enough," he rasps. "Open up for me."

Your mouth rounds into an '0' shape as he starts to finally fill you up.

"There we go," he pants. "Such a liar... all that complaining that it's too big-fuck.'

He fills you up properly now, but you're still so tight.

It takes him a moment to find his rhythm. It feels like its been an eternity since he was last inside of you and his mind is going crazy as he hold himself back from spilling his load into you immediately.

Once he collects himself, the two of you are panting and moaning out one another's names with breathy voices as the bed rocks beneath you. His hand grips the headboard above you, pushing against the wall with each thrust of his hips.

You're soaking his cock with each passing second, making it easier for him to fuck his cock into you each time he bottoms out. He fills you up with the entirety of his length, tip pressing deep inside of you against the sweet spot that drives you mad.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving rigid scratches along his skin. The pleasure is so intense it has you writhing beneath his, gripping onto something, anything to keep you grounded.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your breath gets caught in your throat. He snakes his hand between your thighs, pressing his thumb to your clit and drawing small circles.

"Mingyu–you're so deep-ah," You cry. "Faster, faster– 'm almost there."

Your boyfriend simply groans in response. You're so fuckign desperate, it's driving him crazy. He needed this so bad, missed hearing you whine and beg for him like this.

And who was he to ever deny you? Especially when you were begging for him with that fucked out expression all breathlessly. His hips find a new pace, fucking into you faster to fill your every desire.

Mingyu always fucks you so good. You're extra sensitive, reacting to even the slightest touches and movements. The pressure builds inside of you quickly and you already know you're a goner.

You whimper, trying to formulate your thoughts into words, but his cock makes it impossible. Your mind is scrambled and the only thing you can focus on is the way his cock abuses your g-spot.

"C-c–ah!" You can hardly formulate your warning before you're crying out in pleasure.

Your orgasm hits suddenly, driving you into a state of euphoric pleasure. And fuck, it feels so good. It has your toes curling and your teary eyes rolling back as you cry out his name.

You tighten around him so much that it forces Mingyu to pull out from the pressure. To both of your surprise, a rush of liquid leaves your body when he pulls out. Your mind is so hazy, you hardly process the fact that you're squirting.

You're shaking beneath him, sensitive and overstimulated, but he's missed you so much. He can't help but be a little selfish.

He doesn't waste much time before his tip is pressed against your folds. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds a few times, biting on his bottom lip as your body jerks upon contact.

"Mingyu," You whine pathetically.

His cock is throbbing against you. It's swollen and achy, Mingyu's never been this needy in his life. He ignores your cries, slipping his cock back inside of you and moaning as your warmth envelopes him once again.

"Gyu!" You cry. "I just c-came." Your voice is broken and raspy.

His grip on the headboard is tighter. His knuckles are turning white from how hard he's gripping it as he fucks you needily. He can't stop himself, hips pushing into you as he bullies his cock deep in your walls.

"I know– 'm sorry. J-just gimmie a minute–shit."

A minute ended up being 17 seconds, thankfully. Mingyu was hardly able to finish his sentence before his hips grew sloppy and he was pumping you full of his cum and moaning in your ear.

His body collapses on top of yours. You're both breathing heavily, gasping for air as your bodies recover from the mind-blowing sex you just had. He rolls off of you, laying by your side with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"I'm so happy you're home," You breathe out.

"Happy to be home," he mumbles against your skin.

The two of you lay there only for a few moments before he’s rolling out of bed. “Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, pulling him back down on the bed with you. “No. Don’t leave me again.”

“Not going anywhere,” He presses a kiss onto your lips. “Taking care of you.”

“Noooo,” You pout. “I’m tired, just let me sleep.”

“Bed’s all wet baby. You squirted everywhere, c’mon. I gotta clean you up and wash the sheets.”

You groan, finally giving in to what he says. He disappears into the bathroom to draw a bath for you. You climb in once the water is warm enough and he takes the bedsheets into to laundry room while you wait in the water.

When he returns, you’re sitting in the tub, doe eyes fixated on him as you wait for him to join you. He slips into the bathtub behind you, large body only barely fitting in the water.

You lean into his chest, pressing your back against him. You seat yourself comfortably, letting a yawn pass between your lips.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

You simply nod, allowing your eyes to fall shut as he washes your body in the warm water.

“Sorry for waking you up,” He says quietly.

“I don’t accept your apology,” You tell him sternly. “I don’t care that you woke me up. I’m just happy to have you home. Besides, you woke me up in the best way possible Gyu. I was wearing my bracelet wasn’t I?”

Your boyfriend shrugs, unable to wipe the apologetic look off his face. "Yeah, I lost control a little bit though. 'M not usually selfish like that."

You turn your body around so you're facing him. "You know I like it when you use me," You look up at him.

Fuck–those eyes. He groans, tilting his head back to avoid meeting your gaze. His Adam's apple is prominent when he does so. He feels his cock twitch. "Don't get me started again baby, I'll really lose control. You're way too sensitive to handle it right now."

"You're so easy to rile up," You smirk.

He splashes the water onto you, making you giggle. "Shut up. Can't even blame me."

The two of you finish washing up and drain the tub before drying yourselves off. You redress yourselves in a fresh pair of pajamas and make up your bed together with a fresh pair of sheets.

Mingyu falls into the bed first, pulling you in with him and tucking your body beneath the sheets. He holds you in his arms, pulling you in close, as to say he won’t be letting you go any time soon.

You both drift into a state of slumber, sleeping peacefully for the remainder of the night and into the morning with love filling your hearts and pumping through your veins.

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu drabbles #mingyu svt #svt mingyu #kim mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #mingyu #cuffing season #kpop

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ja3yun · 4 months

Text

Stitch Me Up | L.HS

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), ex heeseung, unprotected sex, cream pie, weapon and blood mention, if i missed anything lmk!

wc: 4.5k+

synopsis: after a tough shift in the hospital all you wanted was to rid yourself of the tension and your ex turns up just in time

a/n: hi! hope you're all doing well. a quick one shot from me so i hope you like it. not much to say on this one <3 ilysm

Dragging your feet behind you, you unlock your door. Everything that went wrong today could have gone wrong; first, you caught your fingers in the mobile hoist, a patient spat in your face, and you spent the last 30 minutes of your shift cleaning shit from the toilets.

No one ever said being a nurse was a glamorous job, but on days like these, you wish you picked something a little more dignifying.

You kick your shoes off and head to your bedroom to grab some pajamas. Every bit of you is emotionally and physically drained, this past month has been exhausting. Working 70-hour weeks and being underpaid for it was starting to take its toll on your fragile body.

Nights like these you miss Heeseung, you shouldn’t but you do.

Picking up scattered clothes that made a mess of your bedroom floor, you groan when your lower back aches. Someone in their 20s shouldn’t be in this much pain. They should be living their best life, staying up late, going out at the weekend, and having a healthy social life.

You love your job, it’s rewarding and you love to take care of people. Seeing people who are in your ward get better makes your heart feel full like your life is actually worth something and doing some good in this shitty world.

You used to have balance. Heeseung was your balance.

Sifting through your drawers you find some pink shorts with white love hearts and a cropped white tank top. Usually, you would settle for a set of sweats and a baggy t-shirt but after practically spending 3 days straight in unflattering scrubs you wanted something pretty.

When you walk you can feel the pain in your feet, and blisters start to form. You needed this shower asap. Luckily the bathroom is less than 5 steps away from your bedroom door so you can keep your hobbling to a minimum. The shower is so enticing as you switch the button on and set the temperature just right, or in your case, scolding hot.

A roasting hot shower is what you need to forget today. You need Heeseung’s hands to melt away the pain.

You miss him.

Heeseung and you have been broken up for precisely 1 month and 13 days. For some reason today you can’t shake him off your mind.

The water cascades down your skin, tiny droplets sit on your face as you wash your hair. The smell of coconut fills the tiny box bathroom and for the first time today, you feel content.

After you rinse the conditioner from your hair and wash your body with a matching scented soap, you pull the shower curtain back and step out carefully - the last thing you need is to fall and break a bone.

Wiping the mirror to rid it of the steam you stare at yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and the redness of your cheeks showcase just how tired your body is. Nothing an overpriced and overrated skincare routine can’t fix. You grab the cleanser and start your regime. It reminds you of him, how he used to always help you, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing the product into your skin, and when he had any left over he would use it on himself. He looked so cute and sweet during those times.

What is with you today? Why do you keep thinking about him?

Quickly, you dry your hair and body with the towel and get ready for bed. Typically, you would sit up and watch an episode or two of Brooklyn 99 but honestly, you’re too burnt out to enjoy it.

As you leave the bathroom there is a knock at the door and you freeze on sight. It’s late and none of your friends would come over, so your brain goes into panic mode. Being a girl alone in her flat was scary enough these days never mind taking in the factor of the time. All the lights are off so hopefully if you just stay still, they’ll leave.

Another knock.

Grabbing a coat hanger from the clothesline in the bathroom you arm yourself with it, it would do enough damage to the person on the other side of the door if you had to escape.

So you couldn’t second guess yourself, you briskly tiptoed to the door and swung it open, hanger tightly in your grip ready to swing.

The figure turns around and jumps, backing up when they see the coathanger ready to be lobbed at their face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s just me.” He puts his hands in front of him in defense.

Heeseung.

You breathe out and relax, dropping your arms to your side. Although your exterior seems to have gotten over the fright, your heart is thumping still. That could be because when you look him in the eyes finally you register who he is.

“Heeseung it’s past midnight, what are you doing here?”

He steps forward and you see his face battered and bruised, his lip has been bust open and a black eye forming on the left side of his face, he was a mess. There have been countless times he’s looked like this, it’s how you two met.

A year ago there was a knock on your door, not unlike tonight, except that time your friend Jongseong was carrying a half-to-life version of Heeseung. The boy couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

“Y/N, sorry, I didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to go to the hospital,” Jongseong explained, although it didn’t clear anything up.

“What the fuck, Jongie, who is this?” You grab the other side of the spent boy and sit him down on the couch, “What happened to him?” Looking at the guy in front of you, you see the blood on his t-shirt, slash marks on his arms, and his face is blown out.

Jongseong rushes to get the first aid kit from your bathroom, “He was fighting tonight and some arsehole pulled a knife on him, and got him in the stomach a few times,” You lift the fabric covering his torso and see wounds bleeding, “I tried to pull him out of the fight but he wasn’t having it.”

You don’t know a lot about Jongseong’s work life, all you know is that by day he’s a simple office body, filling, paperwork, a pen pusher of sorts. But when night came he was an underground fighter, all of it illegal, but he fell into it with some guys at the gym. From what you hear he is pretty good at it.

“Heeseung, buddy?” Jongseong slaps the boy's face a few times, “Stay awake, this is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” So his name was Heeseung.

“Jongie, these are pretty serious, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” Heeseung coughs out. You suppose if you take him to A&E how could any of them explain what happened?

You rub his legs to soothe him, “Okay, no hospital.”

That night you stitched his wounds and cleaned him up. Obviously, he survived, and you took him in like an injured winged bird. Let him stay at yours for 2 weeks, and by the time he was ready to fly away back into the world, you wanted him to stay forever.

You look him up and down to take in his outfit, he wasn’t wearing sweats so this wasn’t a scheduled fight, instead, he was clad in jeans, a White Stripes t-shirt, and a loose-fitting leather jacket, “What the fuck happened, Heeseung?”

“Is it lame if I say you should see the other guy?” He laughs but nothing is funny.

Stepping aside you let him into your flat which he does like second nature, his shoes left exactly where they used to go, “Heeseung you can’t just come here looking like this and not tell me what happened.” On autopilot, you go to get the first aid kit.

He takes a seat on your kitchen counter and looks around, “Nothing much happened, some guys being dicks.”

You come back from the bathroom and see him atop your kitchen, “Eh, get down from there. Now.” He always perched himself on anything but a seat. It didn’t bother you too much but right now after your shift, you couldn’t be arsed to pander to it, “Try and treat my place with a bit of respect please.”

Heeseung jumps off and walks to take a seat on the edge of your couch. It might be wrong of you to think it but he does look beautiful like this. You blame Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil for your attraction to busted up men.

As you open the first aid kit you feel his eyes on you, “Why did you come here, Heeseung? You could have treated this yourself.”

“I missed you.” He confesses and it’s true he did miss you.

For the past month he’s been throwing himself into fights he knows he won’t win just to feel something other than heartache. In spite of his cold attitude and reckless behaviour, he held your love so gently in his heart that he couldn’t even act tough around you. From the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew you had to be his, and if that meant opening up his heart, that’s what he did.

A first he thought it was because you were fixing his wounds and he owed you something but that thought quickly vanished when you fixed more than that.

“Heeseung, we broke up. It’s done.” You say coldly. With the thoughts of missing him earlier still fresh in your brain, you had to nip this in the bud.

When you broke up with Heeseung it wasn’t exactly because you wanted to, it was to protect yourself. His lifestyle and yours don’t mix, he was always getting into trouble and you were trying to avoid it at all costs. But more importantly than that, you couldn’t see the man you love come home every night exactly how he is now, broken and beaten.

The deeper into the fight circuit Heeseung got, the more dangerous it was. People were pulling knives, guns, and bringing back up, all for the sake of making sure their bosses won the bets. Your ex-boyfriend was a great fighter - or so you’ve heard, he never let you come to any of the fights - but these other guys played dirty and it was a threat to his life.

So when you asked him to stop and he said no, you did what you had to and called it off. You lost sleep, precious never to be taken for granted sleep, every night he fought and it was taking its toll on you. You tried to compromise with him and pleaded with him to go back to the regulated (if you could even call them that) fights, the ones where the stakes are lower.

However, Heeseung was above that now, too much of a hot commodity.

“Baby, I’m making us enough money so you don’t have to do so much overtime.”

“Seungie, I’m a nurse, all we do is overtime. Plus, this shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about your safety.” Your voice is cracking with every sentence you have uttered tonight, but he still won’t listen, “I’m not asking you to give it up, but please stop taking these high-stakes fights, you’re going to get killed.”

Heeseung scoffs and places a hand on your shoulder, “I won’t die, I’ve got you to stitch me up.”

“No, Seungie, you don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

It was a brutal way to end it, none of you walked into that conversation expecting that outcome, but for you, it was the only thing you could do.

Soaking a cotton pad with some anti-septic, you place it gently on his lip, a hiss from him following your action, “Sorry.” You whisper. A sorry for the pain but also for breaking up with him. No matter how much you knew it was right for you, you knew it was hard on him. Opening himself up to love you wasn’t easy for Heeseung.

“I’m used to it, baby.” Your heart cries as he calls you baby, it always sounded so perfect coming from him.

“What did the guys do?” You ask and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, masked behind purple and blue, “You said guys were being dicks, so what did they do?”

He didn’t want to waste energy on it, the fight being over in a flash anyway, “Just stuff. They got a jump on me hence the mess.” He moves his hand to gesture to his face but while his hand is already there, it engulfs yours, the one that’s cleaning the blood from his mouth, “Baby, I didn’t start it.”

“I know, Seungie.” You feel yourself falling back into how it used to be, his thumb running circles into your hand.

Once you finish up, you place a skin closure strip on his mouth, your thumb rubbing gently to secure it in place. He takes the opportunity to take your thumb into his mouth and you nearly moan at the intimate act.

But this isn’t how it is now.

“Heeseung.” You warn him.

He releases your thumb and sighs, “Habit.” He was a man of few words, you knew that, so there was no need to say anything more.

“You should go. Keep it clean, and put some ointment on that black eye.”

“I miss you so fucking much, Y/N.” Ignoring him, you walk into the bathroom to return the first aid kit, “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost makes you laugh. You missed him more than anything, so much so that after the shitshow that was today all you could think about was him. All you wanted was for him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is fine, but that is a wish that can’t be a reality anymore.

“It’s not about missing you Heese-”

“I’ll quit.”

You turn the bathroom light off and brush past him, “No, you won’t. We both know it so don’t lie to me, don’t start that now.”

Heeseung is a beat behind you when you walk into your bedroom, “Y/N, believe me.” He knew you didn’t need to believe him, there wasn’t even a reason to believe him because he had said this before. But this time is different, “If you just listen to me,”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The stare you have on him is angry, “I offered you a solution for all of this, and honestly? I am so tired of this conversation now. I need you to go.”

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “Baby, I’m miserable without you.”

Agitation builds up inside you. He’s acting like this is solely your fault, like you were the one that caused all this. Granted, you broke up with him but it was after giving him every solution to stop it, “This is not my doing, Seungie, okay?” He wants to retaliate but you snip in before he gets the chance, “You love fighting those losers more than you ever did me, you made that clear.”

He sees red at your allegation. How dare you even think for a second you weren’t his number one. Sure, he didn’t want to give up fighting, it was who he was, but he also didn’t want to lose you, he sees that now. He has to prove to you just how much you mean to him.

Heeseung takes two long strides to you and kisses you hungrily. It’s been so long since he felt your lips in his. The stinging from his wound is dull compared to how he feels to have you like this again, he has a whole month of kisses and fucking to catch up on and nothing will stop him.

“I love you so much don’t you dare fucking say that.” It was a rarity for him to say that he loves you out loud. You knew he did, it was his actions that showed his love more than words, but hearing it made your eyes well with tears. Because he didn’t say it much, you cherished every single time he did.

You fall onto the bed behind you, his weight crashing onto you as you both lose yourselves in the kiss, all that anger and hurt dissipated each of his kisses.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you try and deepen the kiss but he pulls away. He takes off his jacket and t-shirt and that’s when you see the bruises dispersed along his chest and torso. This fight must have been a lot more brutal than he let on.

Sitting up you kiss each bruise while he straddles your lap, gently showing love for each one. The nurse in you wants to tend to them right away, they really did a number on his stomach and you’re slightly concerned about the damage done to his insides. But right now all he needs is a few kisses to make it better.

“They don’t hurt, promise.” He assures you, but if you kiss him too hard, which isn’t hard at all, he winces. To fixate on something other than the pain he whips off your tank top and just the sight of your breasts has him feeling a-okay, “Missed you so much.”

You could laugh at his obvious ogling but with your burnt out body and his just the same, you just needed to feel him, “Seungie, please,” You whine into his right peck as you kiss him over his darkest bruise again.

Heeseung understands your pleas and pushes you flat against the bed before undoing his jeans and not so gracefully kicking them off, “What do you want, baby? I’ll do it all.”

To quit fighting. That’s what you want to say, but you can’t risk the idea of an argument, not when you’re so close to having him inside you again, “Fuck me, Heeseung. Please.”

This is all he’s been dreaming about since you told him to go. Your love wasn’t the only thing he craved.

Dipping his head down to yours he kisses you again, his hands dipping into your cute pajama shorts to pull them down, “Can I eat your pussy baby?”

You would love nothing more than to feel his tongue all over you but you are truly exhausted, “I have had such a hard shift Seungie, just need your cock to make me feel better.” You’re lifting your hips into his as you say this, staring into his eyes to let him know he has to do this soon or you’ll crash.

“Okay, baby.” He brings two of his fingers to your folds to assess how easy you could take him. You’re wet but you could be wetter for him. Heeseung is an average size but if you’ve been without sex for a month like he had hoped you’d need a little more.

He clambers over you to reach the top drawer and grab some lube. His cock is basically in your face so who were you to not have a taste of it? You sit up on your elbows and your mouth engulfs his member. He's so shocked by the sudden action he nearly drops the bottle, “Shit, baby.” His free hand finds its way into your hair as you bob up and down his shaft, “Missed that mouth of yours.” He breathes out, “Missed it sucking me off, missed it saying my name, fuck I even missed it bossing me around.”

Pulling back you look at him with an unamused look but he uses it as an excuse to kiss you once again.

Slithering down to his previous position he coats his cock with some of the lube, sparing some for your hole, slipping a finger into you to slick your inner walls with it. You turn into a moaning mess as you feel his fingers for the first time in so long, your hips involuntarily buck up.

“I’ll only be a minute, baby.” Once he feels satisfied you won’t feel any pain, he slides his finger out and rubs the head of his cock on your pussy. He isn’t even teasing you but you feel like he is with how long he is taking.

Abruptly, he pushes into your heat, the feeling of you around him makes his head spin. No one will ever feel as good as you, that’s why he’s willing to do anything to have you, “So good,” he exhales, “So fucking good, baby.” Bottoming out, he can’t stop a loud groan from erupting out his mouth. You’ve missed the sound so much.

He starts to thrust into you at a fast pace once he knows your walls have settled, each hit making the room fill with sounds of skin slapping and curses. With the way he’s fucking you, you would think you hadn’t seen each other in years, but he craves you so much that even one day without the option of you around his cock was unbearable.

“Shit, Seungie please go faster.” He listens to you and picks up the pace, knowing how tired you are he needs to get you off quickly.

Between your thighs, his hand finds your clit as he starts to rub it harshly. You look unreal right now, with your mouth open and head thrown back into the mattress.

Lifting your right leg over your shoulder he reaches a deeper spot, his cock pounding into you with ferocity it makes you squeeze around him, “Oh fuck, baby, do that again.” You squeeze his shaft with your walls again, “Fucking pussy feels like heaven.” He whispers to himself.

His hips keep a harsh rhythm, the sharpness of each thrust sending you more and more over the edge, “Close.” Is all you say.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” he smirks, happy knowing that he’s about to feel your ecstasy around him, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

And just like that your pussy comes undone on his dick that is still mercilessly pummeling into you. A loud mewl draws out your mouth and your hands grab onto the duvet under you, he’s making you feel bliss right now.

Heeseung can feel himself getting closer and if he wants full satisfaction he needs to cum now while your walls are contracting thoughtlessly, he needs you to milk his cock dry.

Feeling him lose his rhythm a little you know he just needs a little something to bring him over the edge, “Seungie, need your cum so bad.” He loved it when you begged for his seed.

“Yeah? How bad?”

“I’m starving for it.”

The last few words have his hips stuttering and ropes of his cum shooting into you, filling you up just how you like it.

You’ve finally regained composure from your own high and just in time to see his slack jaw and eyes screwed shut. He was one of the few people that looked good when they orgasmed and you loved when you got to see him in all his glory.

Heeseung falls onto you briefly to catch his breath, the pain from his stomach coming back slowly but that doesn’t matter right now, “Let me clean you up.” He slides out of you and goes to get supplies to look after you.

Because your job requires you to look after everyone around you, it was nice how Heeseung would do aftercare so well, making sure you’re okay.

He takes a while but as he comes back he’s holding a damp cloth and bottle of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, “Sit up for me baby.”

After placing the tea and water on the bedside table he starts to run the cloth along your sensitve area. He loved to see you full of his cum, every time the white substance would leak from you he felt a bit of pride so washing it away like this was mourningful.

“I have quit.” He says lowly, “Fighting, I mean. I quit this morning.”

“But you only said you would quit earlier?” You question, recalling the previous conversation.

“I wanted to see if you would believe me.”

You’re dubious, not understanding what he’s saying, “You can’t just quit like that, Seungie. You told me it wasn’t that easy.”

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you can hand in a two week notice and call it a day, there are too many stakeholders involved, too much money being thrown around to just up and off.

“Yeah, you can see it wasn’t so painless.” He finishes cleaning you off and goes to place the rag in the washing basket.

“What do you mean?” As he walks into the room you see his bruises again and it all hits you at once, “The guys being dicks…”

Heeseung nods and jumps back into his boxers but not anything else with the hopes you want him to stay, “Told them I wasn’t doing it anymore and next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He laughs embarrassed at the memory.

This was technically your fault, you asked him to stop the high stake fights and this is what happened.

Seeing your face, Heeseung sits on the bed next to you and cups your cheek, “Hey, no, I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t make me quit. I chose too. This is my doing”

“But I asked you to.” You look down and trace over his bruises lightly.

“Yeah, but I said no at first.” His hand runs into your damp hair, “I decided to quit this morning because losing you isn’t worth it. I meant it when I said i’m fucking miserable.”

Sighing you fear this happiness in your chest is going to disappear at any moment, “It’s what you love though, Seungie.”

“I love you.” He hates that you have this preconceived notion that somehow he loves fighting more than you, “And I know I should have said it more when we were together but, baby, give me another chance so I can keep saying it.”

You want to cry again, “Have you actually quit? No more fights?”

He places his hand on his heart, “I quit, promise. The only fights now will be with guys who stare at you too long.”

Laughing, you remember a time he clocked two guys out for even offering you a drink. Heeseung has always been protective of you, that’s why you missed him so much today. Coming home after a grueling shift made you want nothing more than for him to hold you.

He’s offering you that chance again and you can’t turn it down, “I love you, Heeseung.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too.” His lips are on yours again as he pours his love into you, his devotion.

Heeseung wasn’t letting you go again. Not for any fight in the world.

#enha smut #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #aj writes #posted it early bc i'm feeling generous #enhypen angst

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

Text

Withdrawal

Four days off your hormone birth control pill left you with one unexpected side effect.

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: MATURE 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS INTERACTING WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED, this is all smut like pureee smut, every generic smut tag needed is here, pinv sx, biting, dry humping, creampie, unprotected sex (dont), biting, wet and messy, etc etc bless

Also Posted on AO3

It had been a mere 4 days since you stopped taking a daily hormone pill to control your crippling period cramps. After all, it was near impossible to get a hold of the same medicines aboard a submarine that spent ninety percent of its time hundreds of meters below the ocean’s surface. As such, you exhausted the six-month supply of the tiny pills that you had brought with you when you joined the Heart Pirates, slowly counting down the days when you would inevitably run out.

You had discussed your waning pill count with Ikkaku on multiple occasions, and she relayed you with her own experiences in her teenage years.

“When I stopped taking hormone pills, my period lasted for, like, two weeks before it became regular again!” she had said, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated display as she recounted her memories. “It sucked. My cramps were really bad, too, but they got a bit better overtime.”

You had assumed, due to very little knowledge otherwise, that your experience would be largely the same. It made sense in the few biology books you had studied during your downtime spent on the floor in the crew library. You would cease taking your daily pill, your hormones would fluctuate as your body adjusted to the lack of a steady balance, and eventually you would go back to living life as you did years before you began your regimen. You read up on a few additional side effects along with heavier and longer bouts of bleeding and increased amounts of bloating and general discomfort. Mostly changes in body mass and occasional reports of differing mental symptoms, which you had readied yourself for as your supply turned into a week's worth, and then down to a single pill, and then nothing at all.

You had Law, your sweet, awkward, broomstick of a boyfriend, to pull on his metaphorical physician’s coat and help you out when needed, as well. He told you, based on his own research (that he didn’t start until after you told him you were down to only two months left of pills), that he could administer remedies if you had bad cramp flare ups or serious, debilitating bleeding. He followed his reassurance with a tender kiss to your cheek as you smiled at him, thanking him for his generosity and understanding.

You swallowed your last pill 4 days ago. So far, none of the symptoms you had prepared yourself for had made themselves known. No bloating, no period (yet), no fluctuating mental state, no change in weight.

Instead, starting 24 hours after your first pill-less day, you were plagued with intense, irreparable horniness, which had now gone on for 3 entire days.

Three days. 72 hours of a persistent wetness between your thighs, a constant warmth fluttering deep within the recesses of your gut that had you clenching around nothing at all hours of the day. You were able to perform your work just fine, but every time Law would pass by you in the hallway, his fleeting touches would leave electric sparks through your boiler suit, his metal-tinged smell lingering in your nostrils more than usual, his golden irises etching themselves into your eyelids. You were acutely aware of the sensation of dampness increasing between your legs whenever he made contact with you, which was very, very often.

You and Law had fucked before. You fucked as often as you could, which, given your respective roles aboard a pirate submarine, was only about once a week, twice if you were lucky (and this was already more often than Law could’ve ever anticipated). You were no stranger to the primal want that made you salivate, endlessly craving the calloused touch of your boyfriend’s lanky fingers against your hips.

But this, the unabashed depravity that started after you stopped your hormone pills, was on a completely different level. Each day seemed to get worse, more unbearable. It was as if your body was screaming at you to pursue your lover and beg him to dick you as deep into his mattress as he possibly could. The mere thought made your face flush with blood. During the times where you were left alone in Law’s bed while he was out being a captain, you tried to tend to your needs with your fingers. You managed once to make yourself cum three times in a row without feeling any sense of relief. Post-orgasm euphoria would instantly be replaced with more intense lust and longing, leaving you frustrated and bewildered.

Had you told him about this? No, of course not. Had he asked you about your condition in the days following your cessation? Yes, multiple times. He was constantly pleased with your content, “I feel great!” responses, and didn’t press the issue further, knowing you would come to him if you started to feel discomfort.

But this was a ‘discomfort’ that made your pride as a pirate, as a strong, semi-independent woman, waver ever so slightly. Simply because you weren’t really keen to beg like a pathetic animal in heat. (That had only happened once in the bedroom between you and your stone-cold captain-turned-boyfriend, and not only had the words that left your mouth embarrass you to a previously unknown degree, but they left Law feeling unbelievably awkward. The two of you ended up not having sex and instead simply falling asleep.)

Unbeknownst to you, however, your inner, wet, sweaty turmoil started to be noticed by the crew due to your wavering performance. You were spacing out far more than usual, keeping your head bowed consistently, contrasting your former upbeat, hardworking, and friendly personality. Multiple times, fingers had to be snapped in your face to grab your attention from the clutches of daydreams that had your eyes glazed over.

And what the crew picked up on, Law would pick up on, if he didn’t notice it first.

Four days. Four days of this.

Your watch shift had ended for the day, allowing you to retreat to the captain’s quarters that you shared with Law, shedding your boiler suit for comfortable loungewear, excited to get off your feet and relax in bed with a book you had started in an attempt to distract your mind from your perverted thoughts. You had just barely opened the page before the heavy steel door opened, revealing your boyfriend to you as he stepped into the room, closing and locking the hatch behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, plainly. His face showed no expression, which was usual, but the aura he radiated sent a nervous chill down your spine. It was somewhere along the tightrope between concerned and mildly frustrated.

“Yeah, why?” you responded, a fleeting attempt to match his energy. You tucked your knees to your chest as the taller man approached the bed, flopping onto it and sitting cross-legged before you.

“It seems like you’ve been a lot more spacy these past few days. Some of the crew told me it appeared that your work has been lacking, and I was wondering if it had something to do with your pill withdrawal.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, anxiously digging through your scrambled thoughts for a proper answer. Before you had a chance to respond, however, Law continued speaking.

“If you’re feeling any signs of negative mental health, I want you to tell me right away. I’m being serious, any signs of depression, anxiety, intense stress, nightmares–”

“I’m not depressed, Law, I promise,” you reassured. This wasn’t a lie, you really weren’t depressed. You were slightly anxious, yes, and definitely stressed due to the constant feeling of a throbbing pulse within your clit every single time you sat down, but you weren’t depressed.

“Something is clearly bothering you, though. I’m here to help you.”

His affirmations once again made you falter. Your eyes stayed glued to his, afraid to look anywhere else.

“I…” you began, voice low and wispy. “I don’t really know how to say it…”

Your response made Law’s eyebrows cock in confusion. “Say… what?”

You finally discarded your book to the side table, leaving your empty hands to fidget with each other. “Uhm… what’s been bothering me.”

“Is it something that I can help you with, or is it something that you feel you have to manage on your own?”

Curse Law’s analytical prowess. Sometimes you wished his rare moments of being a dorky airhead were more common, especially in situations like this. Swallowing your pride, you replied, “The first one, I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Law…” you grumbled, dropping your head into your curled legs so that your forehead rested on your kneecaps. It really shouldn’t have been a hard conversation, you knew Law would understand. But the four consecutive days of nonstop horny fantasy and masturbation sessions that only left you more desperate had officially started to melt your neurons into mush.

“Can you please tell me? At least so I know that you’re not in pain?” Law kept his voice low and calm, but his face clearly gave away his profound concern for your sorry state.

You drew in a deep, shaky inhale. Refusing to lift your head to meet his eyes, you finally swallowed your pride and revealed the truth. “I’ve been hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life for the past four days.”

Your confession was not at all what Law was anticipating, judging by his prolonged silence. You slowly lifted your head, apprehensively searching for his eyes, which, when you found them, were slightly widened. The tip of his straight nose was flushed a rosy pink color.

“Ohhh,” was all he said in response to your confession.

This didn’t instill much confidence in you. With a dry chuckle, you quipped back, “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Law rapidly backpedaled, shaking his head frantically. “No, of course not. Your behavior just makes… a lot more sense now.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the space around the two of you. You could almost see the gears working in Law’s head as he struggled to figure out how exactly he could best help you with your situation, without outright saying it. It didn’t matter how many times the two of you connected between his sheets, the simple word ‘sex’ left Law flustered and fidgeting like an innocent schoolboy.

“Is there…” he began, voice low. “Anything you want me to do?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” you asked back.

The staring contest you were currently partaking in had both of your hearts beating a mile a minute. He simply gave you a curt nod as a reply to your question.

You lowered your knees from your chest slightly, still keeping your arms wrapped around your legs. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand anymore.”

“Damn.”

“You said you wanted my honest answer!” you cried out. You loved your boyfriend more than anything in this world, but his awkward, stubborn demeanor would really get on your nerves in the wrong circumstances, such as this very moment.

“I know, I know,” he reassured. He bowed his head away from yours, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“In my defense, I told you I’ve been painfully horny.”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, once again repeating an exasperated, “I know.”

You lowered your legs further, keeping your hands on your kneecaps as you hunched your shoulders forward. “Can you please help me? Please?” Your voice was low, airy, almost coming out as a whimper. “It’s been four days, Law. Everything I try to make myself feel better makes me more and more uncomfortable.”

Your tone really did sound desperate, and Law’s chest clenched at your demeanor. He glanced back up at your face, your eyebrows scrunched in an odd agony. He could almost feel the burning of your face from where he sat. Out of all the withdrawal symptoms the two of you had discussed before your medication ran out, this was the last one that he would’ve expected, and clearly that was the same for you.

“I’ll see what I can do to help,” he uttered.

“You don’t need to ‘see’ anything, Law, I need your dick in me. Right now. You know I don’t like begging, you have no idea how embarrassed I feel, but I’m desperate, Law, I’m desperate!” You were pleading with him now, officially losing your grip on yourself as you began to crawl towards him, placing your hand on his thigh and pushing yourself forward to bury your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. “I would rather be depressed.”

A dry chuckle from his throat broke the awkward, stifling atmosphere. “Don’t say that, I don’t want you to be depressed.” He rested his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. It almost didn’t register how you were beginning to straddle his waist, your fluttering breaths ghosting over his jugular.

You let out a pathetic whimper, both of your arms now dangled over his shoulders as your hips slotted against his, an uncomfortable position on the bed for both of you, but you were clearly out of your mind as you searched for any semblance of friction to satiate the red-hot need in your core. Your muscles gyrated on their own, a weary moan leaving your lips, hoping to use the stiffness of his jeans to stimulate your clit from under your loungewear.

Law truly felt bad for your beaten state, and with your body pressed against his, he could feel just how flustered you really were. With a tender kiss against the shell of your ear, he pushed you back onto the bed, swiftly removing your pajama bottoms and underwear. A deep crimson blush spread across his tanned cheeks at the sight of you, a persistent, heavy, glistening moistness coating your labia.

“You weren’t kidding,” was all he muttered.

“You thought I’d make this up?!” you pleaded.

“No, of course not.” He rubbed a calloused hand across your cheek, smiling sweetly as you turned your face to nestle into his touch. “I’m just sorry it’s been so bad.”

“Apologize with your body. Please. Don’t make me keep begging, Law, I can’t take it anymore.”

Somewhere deep inside the stoic captain’s mind was a perverted beast that quite enjoyed the sight of you practically weeping and writhing under him as your body subconsciously demanded any stimulation as soon as possible. A sadistic side of him wanted to keep you begging, wanted to break you until you sobbed into his chest, losing your humanity to your instinctual, hormonal urges.

But he loved you too much for that, at least in your current worked-up state. He didn’t want to prolong your suffering.

Without wasting any more time as you lay completely vulnerable and demanding beneath him, he took his hand and trailed two fingers through your folds, stifling a sharp breath at just how wet you really were. Sticky yet thin and fluid, your sweet, musky scent traveled to his nose and made his stomach clench. He bit back any other witty comments that sat on his tongue and instead slipped his middle finger into your cunt, using his thumb to stimulate your clit simultaneously. Your hands flew to cover your mouth, your eyes clenched shut as you involuntarily bucked into his hand, encouraging him to slip a second finger into you to increase the sensation.

“Law,” you moaned out. One of your hands grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. He gazed at you, waiting for your next move. “I’ve been doing that to myself and nothing’s worked. I need you.”

The raven-haired man bit the inside of his cheek at your words. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, haphazardly wiping your fluids on his jeans as he reached for his fly and tugged on the zipper, the metal button following suit. He slipped off the bed to let his pants and boxers fall to the floor before discarding his shirt. You salivated at the sight of him (you felt truly helpless in your hormonal, sex-crazed state). You tugged your own t-shirt over your head and threw it to the floor beneath the bed. Law once again positioned himself above you, an inked hand idly stroking his half-hard penis as he surveyed your pitiful form below him, sprawled out, legs spread, mouth hung open as you took in shallow breaths. He rubbed the head of his penis along your sopping pussy, rubbing your slick down his length with his hand.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he muttered, reveling in the scorching heat that traveled to his groin as his cock filled with blood. “I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to be this wet.”

“How do you think I feel?” you quipped back, your mouth curling into a meager grin. “I’ve been constantly wondering if I pissed my pants without realizing.”

Your words made a bark of laughter exit Law’s mouth, which eased your stress and made your own chest feel lighter. He continued stroking your fluid over his dick as he responded, “This isn’t going to help you, I don’t think.”

You reached a hand forward and trailed it along his shoulder, tracing his tattoo in the process. “I can’t even care anymore, really.”

Law supported himself above you with one hand, dipping down to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. You pushed yourself up on your elbows to deepen the exchange, parting your mouth and brushing your tongue along his lower lip. Instead of opening for you, he pulled back with a mischievous grin.

“You’re already begging for this, you’re gonna have to wait for whatever sloppy kisses you want.”

“You’re an asshole,” you retorted, but shuddered out a sigh at the feeling of Law’s dick parting your labia and slipping into your opening little by little. The excess wetness produced by your own body made the ordeal much easier, which also made it much easier for Law to tease you in his own, stubborn way, finally looking past the awkwardness of your hormone-driven desperation. He removed the tip of his cock from your entrance, making you grumble under your breath. “You said before you would do anything to make sure I’m okay!”

“Well, you’re not in pain,” he responded, voice low and rough. The sound made your hair stand on end. “Since you’re not in pain, I feel a bit better…” he interrupted his sentence with another tease of his tip at your warm pussy, “driving you mad.”

You groaned. “What do I have to do to convince you to just rail me already?”

Your man smirked above you. “You’re getting bold with your language, sweetheart.”

Your shaking hands gripped his shoulder blades as you scooted yourself down the mattress in a feeble attempt to get his cock inside you on your own. Law merely chuckled, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck, leaving sweet kisses over your soft skin before using his hand to aid his dick in entering you completely, biting down on your skin at the same time. The doubled sensations made you wail involuntarily, one of your own hands slapping over your mouth to muffle your desperate noises as your eyes squeezed shut. Law sucked on the bite he made, gyrating his hips at just the right spot where his public hair brushed against your aching clit. The hand that wasn’t covering your mouth raked down his back, making him shudder above you, detaching from your neck and licking his lips devilishly.

“Feel better?” he asked, voice completely casual as if he wasn’t balls deep inside you.

“I’d feel a lot better if you just–” He cut you off with a sharp thrust, the sound of wet skin slapping making hot embarrassment rush to your face.

“Just what?”

“What happened to, ‘I’ll see what I can do?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry it’s been so bad?’” you asked with a quivering voice. “No more sympathy for your suffering girlfriend?”

“Of course I have sympathy for you, dear,” he replied, trailing the hand he had used to gather your slick on his fingers to rub down your cheek and neck, leaving a cold sensation behind. “But when you use words like ‘rail me’ and ‘fuck me until I can’t stand anymore’ it gets kinda hard to not torture you a little bit. Makes it more fun that way.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that crawled across your lips. “You’re a sick, sick man.”

“And you’re a desperate, relentless woman.”

Your conversation finally halted with another deep kiss from Law as his hips began a steady pace, stroking into your cunt with deep, powerful thrusts that were as slow yet impactful and left your toes curling. Law, despite all his uncoordinated emotions, was very good on the backstroke. You didn’t quite know if it was simply the way his cock was shaped, or his physique, or perhaps his unintentional movements, but each thrust sent shivers down your spine and caused your back to arch into the growing flames brewing in the pit of your stomach. His lanky arms allowed him to support himself while angling his thrusts to also brush along your clit, aiding in your euphoria. The mixture of the head of his penis constantly brushing against your upper wall and his coarse pubic hair and firm torso stimulating your clit was addictive and made your legs quiver. (If you ever told Law that he was, in your eyes, a ‘Sex God,’ however, he’d avoid making eye contact with you for at least a week out of sheer humiliation. You had to keep some things to your deranged imagination.)

Amidst Law’s movements above you, you angled your hips upwards and wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping his thrusts deep and deliberate. Your attempts to keep your sounds to a minimum were futile when Law hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, removing your legs from his body and holding them up in the air. Your body curled for him and he kneeled above you, still fully inserted. The new angle was deeper than before and had your eyes glued shut, mouth hung open and lewd sounds escaping your lungs with every shuddering breath. You held your legs in the air while one of Law’s inked hands traveled downward to your clit, resuming ministrations on your swollen nub that this new position didn’t quite provide.

Law wouldn’t admit it, but the absolutely depraved sounds of your wet pussy sucking in his dick with every thrust had him painfully erect inside of you. He was sure you could feel the way his cock twitched every now and then with the way your face would contort in immeasurable pleasure. Half of him was concerned that the soggy noises could be heard from outside the bedroom, either through the heavy steel hatch door or through the walls, but the other half of him was too focused on the electric shocks that sparked through his dick that craved for him to keep chasing his release.

Your own climax was rapidly approaching, Law’s thrusts growing slightly unsteady as his own impending release slowly creeped up on him. His calloused thumb rubbing counter-clockwise circles against your clit was the perfect stimulation you needed along with his perfect cock, and before you had time to suck in another deep gulp of oxygen, your body was convulsing around him, hips gyrating around him as you desperately moaned, still trying to stifle your noises. The squelching sound that emanated from between your bodies only seemed to increase after your orgasm, more fluid from your seemingly endless arousal making Law’s dick slip easier and easier through your tight folds. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made his throat clench, swallowing tightly as a building pressure formed at the base of his dick. He felt it as deep as his vertebrae.

His calculated thumb never ceased its motions against your clit, staying consistent throughout your orgasm. Your fingers clenched the bed sheets beneath you as you pleaded with the man above you to slow down, that the pleasure from your clit was so good it was almost painful, but right as you began to release another moaning plead, a second orgasm washed over you, causing your muscles to rapidly convulse as your hips shook against his body.

“Fuck,” Law groaned out, his own bubble growing closer and closer to bursting with each of your gyrations.

“Law…” you heaved. “Please come inside me. Please, please. I need you to come inside of me.”

Law swallowed thickly, eyeing your trembling form beneath him. “Are you sure?” The implications were slightly more concerning considering this had all started after you stopped a controlled hormone pill. Getting you pregnant wouldn’t be ideal on a submarine, and there would definitely be a lot of discussion should that consequence happen, but at the same time…

He groaned. The feeling of your pussy keeping him glued to your body was too addicting to say no to. Law bit back his inhibitions and nodded his head. He could already tell his own orgasm was going to be one for the ages, your desperate horniness seeming to affect him as well. His hips were starting to stutter in their pace as his climax creeped up his spine and through his pelvis.

You covered your mouth as a sob left your throat, climaxing for a third time on the motions against your clit and G-spot. The involuntary gyrations of your hips finally did Law in. His hips snapped forward, dropping your legs to the bed and placing his hands on your lower stomach, pressing downward as he desperately rammed into you, moaning your name among a string of breathless curses as he released his cum inside your drenched pussy. You were in complete bliss, never having heard such noises leave Law’s mouth during any of your other intimate sessions. You didn’t think you’d be able to get off without his deep, gruff moans anymore.

Law finally stilled both his hand and his hips, leaving you twitching and completely fucked out below him. His aching cock slipped out of you as soon as he pulled away, leaving you both feeling cold and very aware of the crazy mess the two of you had made on his bed sheets.

“Shit…” Law groaned as he flopped backwards. His feet were up by your waist, while yours were still draped across his hips, both pairs of legs parted. The smell of sex permeated the air and you were positive you’d be able to smell it in the hallway if the door was opened.

You didn’t respond for a while, only heavy breaths entering and exiting your chest as you fought to catch up on air that had been violently forced out of you.

“Are you okay?” Law finally asked, barely having energy to pick up his head to gaze at you.

“Yeah… I’m fine. You?”

“Completely spent.”

You shared a breathless laugh that lingered in the air, a soft pink cloud above you.

“I feel disgusting now,” you finally said after some more moments of comfortable silence.

“Good disgusting or bad disgusting?” Law asked back.

“Good, I think,” you replied. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck for at least a month now, though.”

“You and me both.” Law finally mustered up the energy to sit himself up on his elbows. You did the same, though your arms were much more shaky than his. “Have I ever made you come three times before?”

“Never.”

Law pondered your response for a few seconds before flashing a roguish grin. “Damn, I’m good.”

“You can be prideful after you clean me up,” you groaned.

You wearily held your arm into the air, letting your hand flop back and forth as you waved. Law chuckled, tiredly swinging his legs off of the bed. He ignored your arm, instead choosing to scoop you up by your knees and shoulders, holding you close to his chest. Your head plopped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and breaths finally steady. Law gazed at the substantial wet patch that now tainted his white bed sheets, but kept his mouth shut. Maybe six months ago he would’ve been disgusted at the mess you two had made, but with you fucked out and blissful in his arms and his own body tingling with a hot pink sensation that he couldn’t get enough of, he didn’t think it was very important.

With a hushed whisper, a blue glow enveloped the two of you and a swift hand motion teleported you to the bathroom. Where, despite your fatigue, your sex only continued in the shower.

#trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #smut #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #law oneshot

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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months

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Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former.

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence.

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked.

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him.

Her mouth closed.

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left.

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass.

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing."

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up."

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again.

He didn’t have that.

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land.

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy.

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected.

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf.

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail.

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer.

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even.

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals.

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit.

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite.

He did now.

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes.

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade.

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck.

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated.

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm

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probablyasocialecologist · 3 months

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After nearly 15 years, Uber claims it’s finally turned an annual profit. Between 2014 and 2023, the company set over $31 billion on fire in its quest to drive taxi companies out of business and build a global monopoly. It failed on both fronts, but in the meantime it built an organization that can wield significant power over transportation — and that’s exactly how it got to last week’s milestone. Uber turned a net profit of nearly $1.9 billion in 2023, but what few of the headlines will tell you is that over $1.6 billion of it came from unrealized gains from its holdings in companies like Aurora and Didi. Basically, the value of those shares are up, so on paper it looks like Uber’s core business made a lot more money than it actually did. Whether the companies are really worth that much is another question entirely — but that doesn’t matter to Uber. At least it’s not using the much more deceptive “adjusted EBITDA” metric it spent years getting the media to treat as an accurate picture of its finances. Don’t be fooled into thinking the supposed innovation Uber was meant to deliver is finally bearing fruit. The profit it’s reporting is purely due to exploitative business practices where the worker and consumer are squeezed to serve investors — and technology is the tool to do it. This is the moment CEO Dara Khosrowshahi has been working toward for years, and the plan he’s trying to implement to cement the company’s position should have us all concerned about the future of how we get around and how we work.

[...]

Uber didn’t become a global player in transportation because it wielded technology to more efficiently deliver services to the public. The tens of billions of dollars it lost over the past decade went into undercutting taxis on price and drawing drivers to its service — including some taxi drivers — by promising good wages, only to cut them once the competition posed by taxis had been eroded and consumers had gotten used to turning to the Uber app instead of calling or hailing a cab. As transport analyst Hubert Horan outlined, for-hire rides are not a service that can take advantage of economies of scale like a software or logistics company, meaning just because you deliver more rides doesn’t mean the per-ride cost gets significantly cheaper. Uber actually created a less cost-efficient model because it forces drivers to use their own vehicles and buy their own insurance instead of having a fleet of similar vehicles covered by fleet insurance. Plus, it has a ton of costs your average taxi company doesn’t: a high-paid tech workforce, expensive headquarters scattered around the world, and outrageously compensated executive management like Khosrowshahi, just to name a few. How did Uber cut costs then? By systematically going after the workers that deliver its service. More recently, it took advantage of the cost-of-living crisis to keep them on board in the same way it exploited workers left behind by the financial crisis in the years after its initial launch. Its only real innovation is finding new ways to exploit labor.

#uber #gig economy #silicon valley #paris marx #taxis

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gglitch1dd · 4 months

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A Son

Midoriya Izuku x Fem Reader

All you ever wanted was to give your husband a son.

Warning: Pregnancy/wanting to get pregnant, struggling to conceiver

You lay in the arms of your husband in the afternoon. The afternoon light streamed through the window onto the lower part of the bed as the curtains kept you and your beloved away from the harsh afternoon light. You giggled as he kept an arm around you as you stayed in bed together. Today was one of those few days once every two weeks where Izuku had an entire forty-eight hours off and the two of you could spend the entirety of the full day and more in bed doing nothing.

“Honestly I don’t know what Shoto was thinking.” Izuku shook his head making you giggle as you stared up at your large green haired prohero for a husband. He had a small amused smile on his face as he laughed. “I mean, how do you give a newborn a pony!?”

You chuckled as you rested your head on his shoulder as you rested on hand on his broad chest. You lightly traced with your finger a prominent scar that lay down his side. “You know Shoto, he’s always a few steps behind.” Izuku hummed in agreement making you giggle.

You watched him as his chest moved up and down as he breathed. His freckled skin was warm keeping you at just the perfect temperature in his arms while lying in bed. You were both bare underneath the sheets, having spent all of last night in the throws of pleasure, heavy breathing and exchanging fluids. It was a messy affair and a tiring one but one you never got tired of participating in. Where you could just enjoy time in his arms as he took his time and had his way with you.

Izuku turned his head to look down at you, his green curls pushed back. You seemed stuck in your head for a long moment, your mind stuck on something that he couldn’t quite figure out but he was guessing it had to do with the recent topic of Sato and Pony’s new baby. He moved a hand to move up and down your back as he kept you snuggled up into his side.

“Honey…”

“Hm?” You looked up at your husband.

Izuku had a soft look on his face. He gave you a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna happen, my love.” He spoke softly. At his words you eased as you looked up at him. “Remember what the doctor said, don’t think about it. It will happen in its own time.”

You nodded silently as you looked down away from him. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. The both of you had been trying for a baby for the past two years, admittedly it was hard to watch your friends start having kids randomly on incident when the two of you had been trying. You did the tests and you were both in perfect health and shape, but it just wasn’t happening. At first Izuku thought it might have been all the hero work he was doing that was putting so much stress on him and you were thinking maybe you were just defective.

Izuku couldn’t count how many times he had to hug you as you cried on the floor of the bathroom holding another negative test, sobbing at how wrong you felt. How much it felt like your body couldn’t do the one thing it was made to do.

“Izuku…” Your husband hummed as he looked down at you as you kept your eyes down casted away from him. “I don’t… I don’t just want a baby.” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I want to give you a son.”

Izuku sucked in a breath, nothing negative going through his mind. Quite the opposite actually. The words you had said stirred something within him that he didn’t know was there. It made a built up pressure in the pit of his stomach coil and tighten. “What… what do you mean?”

Your hand absentmindedly drew patterns against his skin. “I want to give you a son. I want one. A perfect little boy with our family name. The son of the Number One Prohero of Japan. Next to inherit One for All and the next symbol of peace and justice. A son that would make everything that you built, your entire legacy, worth it. Everything that you worked so hard for, to be true. I want…” You let out a stuttered breath as you rested your head against him, closing your eyes at the thought. “I want to feel him growing inside me, I want to feel my body change knowing it was you who gave me that baby. I want to feel the beauty of it and the strain and exhaustion of it. I just… I just want to be a mother. I want that, Izu. That’s all I want.”

It took a moment before Izuku gave you any sort of response. You felt his large warm scarred hand move to underneath your chin. Your eyes moved up as your head was tilted up to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise at the look on his face, tender and yet held something behind his green poisonous eyes that you had willingly drink from time and time again. His eyes were dark as he stared down at you, making tension settle in your abdomen.

“When we got married, remember what I promised you?” He asked you calmly. You were speechless for a moment, not remembering anything specific. You shook your head. “I promised you that I would give you anything and everything that you want.” He spoke lowly.

You felt one of his hands move down your body. You gasped, your eyes fluttering at the way his hand traced down your body. You felt his thick fingers move towards your wet folds, warm cum still buried inside you. You felt two of his fingers push inside you, pushing in the leaking seed back inside you. You gasped as you arched your back at feeling him inside you.

Izuku put his lips down to your jaw, kissing your skin sweetly, despite fucking his fingers into you. His pace taking you by surprise as it was fast. The squelch of your wet dripping cunt on his fingers making you clench harder around him. You let out a stuttered moan as you closed your eyes. “Izuku! Izu! T-too much!” You cried out as your hand moved to grab onto his arm that seemed determined to have you cum on his fingers.

“When I married you,” He continued, kissing your cheek as his other hand moved to grab onto your chin and force you to look up at him as he had you shaking and dripping on his fingers. “I took every responsibility as your husband, I promised to provide for you, protect you, love you and respect you.” His actions stopped making you release a sob at being pushed to the edge only for him to stop. Your eyes were lined with tears as you looked up at him. His grip on your jaw as he stared down at you. He moved his lips down against your own, his breath heavy as he stayed over you. You weren’t sure when he moved to on top of you, his other hand having put your thighs around him as he angled his cock inside you. “You want a son?” He asked breathy as he pushed his hard cock back into you.

A strangled moan came out of you as you arched up into him. His thick cock forcing its way back inside you. You never did get used to how thick your husband was. Taking him always felt like you were being suffocated, like you couldn’t breathe. That’s just how amazing your husband felt.

Izuku let out a groan against your lips, his eyes closing briefly before looking down at you filled with lust and want. “Then I’ll give you a son.”

You stood in the bathroom with your husband standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders as you looked down at the little pale white stick that was still loading. You let out a stuttered breath as you felt anxiety and stress in your lungs. You felt like you could barely breathe properly as you stared down at the pregnancy tests that lay before you.

Izuku kissed the side of your head, his hold on you firm enough that you could tell he was nervous too. These things never got easier. You could feel tears burn at your eyes in fear of another negative, of another lost chance for a baby. You swallowed down hard as you closed your eyes, praying, wishing, hoping, aching that you and your husband will get a shot. Just one shot at being parents.

You heard beeping and opened your eyes on instinct. You looked down at all the sticks on the counter.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

You let out a sob as you nearly collapsed on the floor. Izuku quickly caught you as you sobbed in his arms. He turned you around to hold onto him as you both sunk to the floor. You had your head buried in his neck as you cried. His strong arms were wrapped around you but you could feel him shaking as he had his head tilted up in silent thanks.

“We’re- We-” You couldn’t finish the words as a smile pulled to your face as you chuckled through the cries. You felt Izuku’s broad chest vibrate with his own laughter as you turned your head up to look at him.

His face was pink and puffy as his eyes were filled with tears but a smile was on his face. He reached to cup your face as he looked down at you. He nodded his head silently. You closed your eyes as tears slipped out of your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath. You rested your head down on his chest as you took a moment to be grateful for this little miracle.

You reached a hand down to your abdomen between the both of you. You let out a stuttered sigh in relief.

-Glitch1d

#mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoryia smut #midoriya smut #midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia x you #deku x reader #deku smut

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reverie-starlight · 2 months

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...some atsumu fluff to warm up for the birth month of me AND this blog bc he is my husband. extremely self-ship coded bc I set a million alarms and snooze them all and it would piss him off, which I love doing <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, university student reader. fluffy fluff. very short.

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atsumu groans when he hears your alarm go off for the fifth time that morning. it's loud enough that the sound travels from behind the closed door of your bedroom all the way to where he's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking his morning protein shake. he hears the exact moment you cut off its wailing two seconds later.

"looks like it's gonna be one of those mornings," he mumbles to himself, taking another sip. he tries to savour his last moments of early morning peace before chaos breaks out.

getting you up in the mornings could be... challenging... to put it kindly. there are just some days you don't want to get up for class or make the trek to campus. he regularly hears you whining about how you screwed yourself over with choosing too many early classes. if he's being honest, it makes him even more satisfied with his decision to not attend university. he's spent many mornings trying to coax you out from under the covers to no avail.

but thankfully miya atsumu loves a challenge.

his success rate has been 100% lately, much to your dismay and begrudging appreciation, because you both know you care too much to actually miss a lecture, no matter how much you value your sleep. so after downing the rest of his smoothie, he puts his glass in the sink and pushes himself off the counter, heading to the bedroom.

he enters the room with no intentions of being quiet and jumps right onto his side of the bed. he bites back a grin when you startle and mutter some colourful words under your breath.

"babyyyy~" his voice is full of excitement and he just knows it's making you regret shutting off your alarms.

"atsumu, please, five more min-" you begin whining, but he cuts you off.

"nope! ya gotta start your day, or you're gonna be late." he places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you a bit.

you groan. "'tsum, please. I'm so tired..."

he tuts a little. "no can do, I'm afraid. you're the one who told me you've got an exam comin' up next week."

you don't respond and he grins, knowing he's getting closer. he moves his hand from your shoulder to the comforter covering your body and rips it off.

"ATSUMU!" you shriek, trying to steal back its warmth and go back to sleep.

the blonde just laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead when you lunge for the covers. he relents and lets you believe he’s showing mercy, watching as you bury yourself back into a burrito.

“five more minutes, but if you’re not up by then I’ll really make ya regret not listenin’.”

you scoff and wave him off, incorrectly assuming he’s gone soft on you.

four and a half minutes later, he’s sneaking back into the bedroom and waiting until his timer hit exactly five minutes to pounce on you.

you yelp a little, but it quickly dissolves into peels of laughter as his hands attack every side of the blanket prison you had unknowingly trapped yourself in.

“atsumu, nO!” you attempt, but you can’t reach him from inside the blanket and he knows.

"ya brought this on yourself, sweetheart. could've had me waking ya up with kisses and some sweet talk, but ya just have to make things difficult for me, hm?"

“nooo I’m sorryyyy-“ you plead for forgiveness, beg him, anything to get him to stop tickling you.

he finally relents a bit when he realizes that you might not be able to breathe under there and watches as you peek your face out a bit, weary eyes glued to his form.

“are ya gonna get up now?”

he snickers when you nod fervently and pats your leg over the comforter. “alright, hurry up, then. I made ya coffee. I’ll walk with ya to the train.”

“won’t you be late, then?” you ask on your way to the washroom.

he shrugs. “worth it.”

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again, super short, but very sweet I hope. birth month calls for lots of content for my favs, so get ready <3

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff

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ieatstarsforaliving · 7 months

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The Fucking Fight Club (2)

Summary: Hazel tries to control her powers during the first fight club. But because she's a loser, she fucks up. A lot.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mild violence, mentions of bruises and blood

Word Count: 3866

Note: Okay I know I gave y'all the first chapter yesterday but you guys surprised me with so much likes, I quickly whipped up the next chapter. The ending is kind of bad but lmfao idc. It's extra long cause I probably can't write until next weekend due to fucking midterms. I wish I could drop out and write fanfics all day long. But life is unfair to the gays. - Bia <3

“Okay, before we actually do this, I want Hazel to practice controlling her punches.”

Josie had dragged PJ and Hazel to a hiking trail in the nearest forest. This wouldn’t have been mandatory if Hazel didn’t have the super-strength to murder a human with a single blow, but since she did, Josie wasn’t about to let the feminist self-defense fight club happen without a bit of rehearsal.

“Fine, mom.” PJ rolled her eyes. She was used to Josie’s dramatic cautiousness, but this seemed like a waste of time. She turned to Hazel and offered her face. “Hazel, just relax, and punch me.”

Hazel did a double take. “Punch… punch you?”

“Okay, I don’t like that tone. I know how to take a punch. Something people would always say is ‘PJ knows how to take a punch.’ Come on up.”

“PJ, she literally beat up a grown man with metal octopus arms last week. And the week before that, a man made of indestructible sand. You remember that? On the news? You might know how to take a punch, but you don’t know how to take her punch.”

“That’s why we’re practicing!”

“I meant like practice on a tree or something.” Josie waved towards the nearest tree, standing about 25 feet tall. “Hit a tree, Hazel.”

Hazel shrugged, before pulling back and punching into the middle of the tree. In a split second, the tree quaked under the assault, its massive frame crackling under the exact spot of Hazel’s fist. The bark gave away first, exploding outward in a radial pattern. When she retracted her hand, there was a massive dent on the thick body of the tree, jagged fault lines extending from the center of the impact.

PJ’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck. That could have been my face.”

Josie shook her head. “Okay, so, obviously, you have to calm down. By a lot. Try the same thing, but like, weaken it?”

Hazel nodded. She then gently tapped the tree with her fist.

Josie shook her head again. “That was clearly too weak.”

Hazel sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, guys. I’m so used to punching psychopathic criminals who want to kill me, so I’m always using at least 90% of my strength.”

“Which is why I brought this.” Josie pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It turned out to be your face printed on an A4 sheet with a speech bubble that read, ‘punch me!’ “Now, hear me out—”

“-Actually, this is brilliant,” PJ said, taking the paper from Josie’s hands. She taped it to the tree and presented it to Hazel. “Imagine the tree is (Y/N). She’s standing in front of you. She’s sexy, she's wearing a bikini, she’s ready to learn, and she’s asking you to punch her. What do you do?”

Hazel stared at the tree with your face on it. In spite of this entire scenario being outrageously stupid, Hazel’s eyes fixated on the piece of paper, trying to immerse herself in your 2D face. It seemed to be a copy from last year’s yearbook, one that she had spent many hours staring at. She felt weirdly guilty as she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I don’t really want to punch her.”

“Well, you have to! This is for feminism!” PJ groaned when she saw the hesitancy in Hazel’s face. “Hazel, women like strong, protective people. Why do you think there’s a hulk shrine in the girl’s second floor bathroom? You punch (Y/N) straight in the face, and she’ll immediately fall in love with you.”

“Well–”

“-She will, Josie.”

Hazel nodded. It was worth a try. If she wanted to wrestle with you in this club, she had to try. With a measured breath, Hazel extended her arm, fingers curling into a tight fist. She delivered a punch, focusing on her strength rather than causing harm. The moment of impact was firm but gentle, almost considerate towards the tree’s bark. It was as if the tree had barely registered the encounter, although its leaves were left shaking. She turned to her friends.

“Perfect,” PJ whispered, her eyes glistening in awe. “Let’s go beat some bitches up.”

“Not how I’d word it,” Josie muttered.

That afternoon, you were taking a hike in the same forest with Isabel and Brittany. It was quite calming, walking and talking with your friends in the middle of a beautiful forest. Birds were chirping, winds were breezing– And you guys were completely alone, since nobody really came here, and if they did, it was usually after sunset to do drugs and film porn.

The three of you reached the midpoint of the trail to take a small break, when Brittany pointed at a nearby tree.

“Hey, isn’t that…”

You followed her finger to a tall tree that seemed to be beaten up by someone, with its bark splintered and smashed by a form of impact. And in the middle of its trunk, was a photo of you, with a speech bubble that read ‘punch me!’.

Your heart dropped.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), somebody wants to kill you,” Isabel gasped. She walked up to the tree and ripped the paper off. “Isn’t this from our yearbook?”

You reached out to take the paper from Isabel’s hand and inspected it closely. It was indeed a page from the previous year’s yearbook, with your smiling face captured in a freeze-frame moment of your junior days. The speech bubble, however, had been added later, which meant that someone had deliberately printed your face, edited it, and pinned it to a tree to violently punch it out.

You felt a chill down your body. Who could have done this? You knew it was hard to be friends with everyone from school– but who would despise you enough to do this vicious and also slightly weird property damage to nature?

“We should report it or something, like to a park ranger,” Brittany offered, sensing your panic.

“No, They’re just going to tell us not to come back here wearing shorts,” You sighed. There were no cameras on the trail or anything, and the park rangers were men who were probably going to comment on your appearance instead of the actual problem at hand. “I have to do something about this by myself.”

You needed protection. No, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. You needed teachers who could help you protect yourself from evil highschool men.

You needed Hazel Callahan.

You turned to your friends with a determined face, masking your fear before saying;

“Do you guys want to join a self-defense club with me?”

Isabel and Brittany paused, exchanged glances, then nodded.

“What the fuck. These girls are ugly.”

It was the first club meeting for the feminist self-defense fight club, and there were exactly 8 girls waiting in the gym. Absolutely no sign of you. Hazel laid on the gym mats, trying not to show her disappointment. She reached for her phone, staring at your number in her contacts. She never got to texting you because she was panicking over what to say one night, and was busy fighting off muggings and carjackings every other night.

“Are you stressed? Cause I’m stressed,” Josie muttered, as the advisor for the club hopped in, earning a sharp breath from Hazel.

“Hey, ladies! Let’s get it poppin’ in this motherfucker.”

Hazel blinked. Mr. G was the advisor for this club?

This was going to be absolutely horrendous.

“Alright, uhm… hello, everybody,” Josie tried, looking around the gym filled with girls jumping on trampolines, hula-hooping, scooting, and balance-balling. “Okay, excuse me, sorry, I feel- sorry–”

“-EVEVRYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP.” PJ hit the floor with a broom, each collision echoing through the space with a ‘BANG’.

“This isn’t a little hangout, okay? Oh it’s not a sleepover or playtime. There are serious rules that we need to establish, okay?

“First? Listen to Hazel.”

Hazel lifted her hand in a subtle gesture.

“Second? Be on time. Except for you,” PJ pointed to Mr. G. “You come whenever you want. What time is it?”

“3:30–-”

“-3:30! Club starts at 3:15. Not 3:16, not 3:17. But the door closes at 3:15. No exceptions!”

Hazel smiled. Other than the fact that they were the ones who were actually late, PJ was doing amazing, putting authority towards the three girls and setting the ambiance. PJ could be a menace sometimes most of the time, but when she wanted to get shit done, she got shit done. Hazel was almost too distracted by PJ’s rant—

“-I don’t care, if you’re like, oh, but I had to go get extra help for math because I need to get a full ride because my mom lives in a trailer and she loves her boyfriend more than me, bleh blah blarh blargh– Shut up. My dad left me and I’m incredibly punctual–”

–That she didn’t even notice you walking into the gym with Isabel and Brittany following closely behind. When she did notice, her heart seemed to pick up speed, her lips curling into a smile even without realizing. Josie recognized the smile– one that Hazel only had when she was talking about her crush— and Josie turned around, motioning to PJ that the holy trinity had entered the gym.

Your eyes met with Hazel’s, and you waved in acknowledgement. She almost dropped her notebook as she looked around to check if you were waving to someone else, and then she fumblingly waved back. You giggled. Hazel had this face that effortlessly radiated innocent charm. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to her slightly nerdy demeanor. (it’s called being gay)

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” PJ rasped. “Uh… we’re just getting started here.”

You walked to Hazel and stood beside her. “Sorry we’re late,” you apologized.

The three girls shook their heads. “Don’t worry about it—”

“-Uhm, the rules were for next week, but this week is good–”

“-Yeah, no worries, take it easy.”

Annie seemed confused. “Okay, I just want to make sure– This is a self-defense class, right? Where we can learn to protect ourselves against football players.”

“And the criminals that Spider-Woman has been fighting? Cause, uhm, crime rate has been going up so criminals are gonna pork us. They’re gonna pork us.”

“I thought we were fighting each other for money. There’s a cash prize, right?”

“I thought this was to be a part of like a local, underprivileged female community.”

“My identity is completely attached to hers so I just go wherever she goes.”

“I thought I could learn how to protect myself. Cause I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me,” You added.

“What?” Hazel turned, her eyes filled with worry.

“Everyone’s here for a good reason!” Josie laughed. “So, you know, why are we nitpicking reasons?”

“Yeah! So, let’s jump in. Hazel, why don’t you take it away?”

“Uh.”

PJ and Josie stepped back and began clapping. Everyone else followed along into a scattered and confused applause. Hazel walked to the front, opening up her notebook to the page reading ‘Self-Defense Club.’

“Okay. Hi. I’m Hazel. And I’m going to teach you guys how to fight. Maybe throw some punches. Some kicks.”

There was a bit of silence, maybe a single cough. PJ spoke up.

“(Y/N), since you’re closest to Hazel, why don’t you volunteer and step up?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

You weren’t completely sure what was going on or how exactly Hazel was going to teach self-defense, but you dropped your backpack to the floor and walked towards Hazel, who looked incredibly afraid of what was going to happen next. She looked over your shoulders to PJ and Josie.

PJ mouthed the words, ‘Punch her. She’s the tree. Punch her.’

Hazel sent signals through her eyes meaning, ‘I can’t– I’m not gonna punch her.’

PJ continued to mouth the words, ‘Punch her. Hulk shrine. Imagine her wearing a bikini.’

Hazel’s face contorted with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and her mouth slightly agape. Was she actually going to punch the girl that she’d been crushing on for years? Was this really the way to do it? She tried to ignore PJ who was now mouthing ‘punch your virginity away’ and instead curled her hands into fists, imagining the tree, the print-out of your face saying ‘punch me!’, you wearing a bikini, your smile, your wave, your eyes, your body—

-While you stood beside her, wondering why Hazel looked like she was about to shit herself. You began to open your mouth to ask if she was okay.

“Hazel—”

—And she flung her fist to your face.

You didn’t even register what had happened until a sharp burst of pain radiated from your nose, and you found yourself laying on the floor of the gym. You heard gasps and shouts and something about Mr. G trying to shut the club down (“Hey hey hey hey hey– I don’t know about this shit-”) as you slowly sat up, tasting liquid metal. The pain began to spread to the rest of your face as your eyes blurred up, leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to regain your composure.

“Fuck, (Y/N)- I’m so sorry-” a horrified voice rang in front of you, and you felt a warm hand against your cheek. The hand seemed to be shaking, and you wiped your hazy eyes to see Hazel kneeling beside you, her expression embedded with guilt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You didn’t even warn her!” Annie screamed.

PJ shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t get warnings in juvie. Juvie was way crazier. One time, this girl’s punching me in the rain. Fall to my knees. It’s muddy. I get up– I’m blind. Punch her right in the middle of her face. Broke her fucking nose.”

“Pretty sure Hazel broke (Y/N)’s nose too,” Annie grumbled.

Isabel hurriedly handed you a couple of paper towels as Mr. G pushed the crowd to assess the situation.

“Let me see her,” Mr. G ordered, gasping when he saw the amount of blood coming from your nose. “Oh, shit, man, we gotta shut this down.”

“No, No—”

“-Shut this shit down. Shut it down—”

“-No, Don’t blow the whistle– Don’t blow the whistle!” Josie yelled. Everyone went silent, turning their attention from you to Josie. “I know that, you know– this is a little messy and bloody right now— Hazel, can you take (Y/N) to the nurse’s office– but like, the only way that we can learn how to defend ourselves is by teaching each other.”

Josie continued on with her little speech as Isabel and Brittany offered to take you to the nurse. But Hazel denied their help, rambling something about how this was all her fault. She picked you up fairly easily to your surprise, bridal style, and carried you out of the gym. You clutched onto her and rested your aching face into her stomach, feeling embarrassed.

When you arrived at the office, the nurse had gone home already, leaving Hazel to place you on the examination bed and find the medical kit. She seemed really anxious as you touched your face, your hand coming back dripping in red.

“God, juvie really taught you how to punch, huh,” You joked, battling your agony with humor. Hazel didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the sink water, indulging the silence. You tried again. “Hazel.”

It was ignored once again as Hazel kneeled in front of you and started cleaning your face, her thumb gently holding your chin. She was very obviously avoiding your gaze with the best of her ability.

“Hazel, look at me.”

Hazel finally looked up to your eyes. She looked like a child knowing that she was about to be reprimanded or put on time out— and you almost felt sorry for Hazel, even though you were the one bleeding out. She seemed to grimace as you opened your mouth, getting ready to be shouted at. But instead, you asked;

“Why didn’t you message me?”

Hazel paused.

“I gave you my number. You didn’t message me,” You said again, completely serious. “You don’t like me?”

“No, I like you!” Hazel exclaimed. Her cheeks turned into a shade of pink as she tried to reword the sentence. “I mean, I don’t don’t like you, I… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to come to the club, and I’m sure you don’t want to anymore-”

“-No, I want to.” You interrupted. “I mean, my face hurts like a bitch, but… it was a solid punch. And I really do need to learn how to defend myself like that. I think someone’s trying to kill me, so I want to be ready.”

Hazel cocked her head. “Is someone attacking you? Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly, but I did see my face taped onto a tree, and someone had hit it really, really hard. Like, incredibly hard. Maybe with a rock, or something? I don’t know. I think it might be a death threat.”

Color seemed to drain out of Hazel’s face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–” You explained, mistaking Hazel’s pale skin as fear. “Listen, I’m not angry at you. Well, okay, I am a little, I think you could have warned me about the punch, at least, but… I know that you’re still recovering from your past and you’re probably on edge all the time.”

Hazel nodded along, as it was partially true– she was on edge, but mainly because you were staring down at her with blood on your face and you still managed to look hot as fuck. She choked on her words before saying, “Still, I shouldn't have punched you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled. “This is the whole point of the club though, right? You punch me, I punch you… and we become stronger together– ow.”

You winced when the cloth touched a particular spot on your nose bridge, being reminded of your injury.

“Shit, sorry, here—” Hazel instantly dropped the cloth. She carefully cupped your face, examining your wound with sincere worry. She was used to seeing wounds on herself, but seeing them on a person that she liked— seeing them on you, made her particularly upset.

You were surprised to see Hazel being so serious. Every time you tried to talk to her, she was either nervous or punching you. To see her so focused on your face made you feel a bit self-conscious, leading you to comment on her skills to break the silence.

“You seem to have a lot of experiences patching someone up. Do you do this often?”

She chuckled, “You have no idea.”

You assumed she was talking about juvie, and you recalled seeing the bruises on her face the last time you talked to her. Was Hazel still having problems with crime even after prison? You stared at her, your heart throbbing with sympathy for Hazel. What struggles had she faced in her past for her to learn to punch so strongly, to patch up bruises, and to always be nervous around others?

Hazel pulled away from you, finishing up the basic patch-up. She started putting the medical kit away as you caught sight at the mirror across from you.

“Great. I look awful.” You sighed, lingering on your reflection.

“No, you don’t.”

Hazel tore her eyes away from the kit and responded, as if you had said something completely out of reality. You laughed and shook your head, looking at the floor.

“No, my face is a complete mess–”

“-You look pretty.”

You tore your eyes off from the floor to Hazel. She was staring at you with a soft look in her eyes, one that you felt yourself getting lost in. She had such… honesty within them, as if she fully believed your beauty underneath the red and blue color.

“You always do.”

And for a moment you wondered how you had never truly seen Hazel before— when the soft glow from the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm light over the two of you. Hazel’s brown hair, cascading into a messy mullet, framed her face which seemed to be burning up each second that passed.

“...you too,” You muttered, a shy smile replacing your dumbstruck expression. “I hope you know that.”

Then it was her turn to gawk, at you and your hands timidly placed on your legs which dangled from the examination bed. She was reminded of her crush that had been sitting in her heart for years. She had just spent 5 minutes in a room alone with you— and for a second, she was almost glad that she punched you.

And all of a sudden, Hazel seemed to recognize the lack of space between the two of you. Had you been this close to her this entire time? Your face was just inches apart from hers, and time seemed to stretch as you two gazed at each other, hearts thumping in unison. It was as if the wall Hazel had managed to build around her feelings towards you crumbled within this moment. Hazel’s lips parted, just a fraction, as if inviting the inevitable to say—

“-The club isn’t being shut down!”

The office door swung open with a bang.

Hazel immediately leaped back from you, as you whipped your face towards PJ and Josie who stopped in their celebratory tracks, analyzing the odd tension from the room.

“Oh, sorry, we thought–” Josie gaped, rubbing the back of her head in awkwardness. “How are you doing, (Y/N)?”

“I’m doing okay, actually. I should go. But I’ll see you later, bye.” You hopped down from the bed and started walking out of the room, talking a bit too fast for anyone’s comfort. You almost fell over while you ran down the hallway, unable to accept what had just unfolded. What was that? You almost— you almost kissed a girl. You almost kissed Hazel Callahan.

In the meantime, Hazel was also mortified at the fact PJ and Josie had interfered right then and there. She hid her face with her hands which her friends mistook for anger.

Josie tried to calm her down, “Okay, I know that today was kind of a disaster and you made (Y/N) bleed, but after you left we managed to grow the spirit. Everyone’s into beating each other up now. It’s kind of working.”

“And, I honestly don’t know what just went on right now but… (Y/N) just said she’ll ‘see you later’. Which means it kind of worked for you too,” PJ added. “And it doesn’t seem like you broke her nose, which meant that you can actually control your power!”

“Are you still up for this, Hazel?”

Hazel peeked out from hands, her face still red, her heart still sprinting, her mind still thinking about your lips— and how you said you would see her later. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded and said,

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Previous Chapter: The Origin

Next Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

#bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #hazel callahan spiderwoman #hazel callahan x you #bottoms (2023)

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uniquesoulwinner · 7 months

Text

My Queen

Leah Williamson x reader

Idea that came to me after seeing Leah get her OBE today of a little surprise celebration with her girl who she didn’t think was even in the country!

Hope you enjoy its not very good and the format isn’t working right so it might read funny but well it’s something

Let me know what you think

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Y/n pov

Getting off the plane in London brings nothing but butterflies to your stomach at the thought of the day ahead. You see given that I’ve been in New York for work for the past 9 long weeks I was not meant to be here today well at least that’s what Leah thinks, I however always knew I would be here!

As soon as we got the date for Leah to get her long awaited OBE medal I was on the phone to Amanda to plan exactly what was going to happen today, this has lead to a lot of sneaky phone calls between me and my girlfriends mother, who I’m nearly sure is more excited about me being there to surprise Leah than I am.

Finding out that I was going to have to be in New York for 16 weeks for work was never part of the plan, being away from Leah for that long was a thought that made my whole body hurt before I even went, which is why I I have worked my ass off over the last 9 weeks so complete everything I needed to do to get home to my girlfriend of 4 years early which brings me back to walking though Heathrow Airport at 7:45am on a Wednesday morning counting down the minutes until I have her in my arms again.

Just as I was getting into the taxi to take me to the hotel I had booked for myself and Leah for that night my phone rang and my smile got even bigger seeing it was Amanda!

Y/n: Hey perfect timing I’m just in the taxi

Amanda: ahh perfect I’m so excited, she’s getting ready already! I swear she takes forever.

Y/n: Worth every minute though; you find yourself say thing that out loud without ever realising until you hear Amanda aww on the other end of the phone which made you blush no end! Anyway how are we looking for timeline I’m just heading to the hotel now to get showered and ready!

Amanda: so we should be wrapped up in Windsor by around 13:30pm at the latest and then she thinks we are just going for dinner and meeting holly and all that couldn’t come to the ceremony there. You can hear the excited little giggle coming from Amanda like she is on a secret spy mission which makes you laugh

Y/n: ok good and she definitely doesn’t suspect a thing right you ask already knowing that she doesn’t considering you spent 2 hours in the phone to her last night with her upset and missing you as well as telling you how much she wished you where going to be there today which yes broke your heart in two , the only thing that you hoped was seeing her face today would make up for everything!

Amanda: nope not a thing, she is completely oblivious you hear that cheeky giggle again she is going to be so happy y/n, she has missed you so much you you

Y/n: yeh I know I’ve missed her too more than words but not long now, god I’m nervous you laugh at the Ridiculousness of getting nervous over seeing the woman that has been the centre of your world for 4 years now

Amanda: oh sweetie you no need to be nervous, the second that girl sees you everything will be worth it, you know … Amanda suddenly stops talking only thing you can hear is some rustling and foot steps which your hoping isn’t Leah catching you both out

Ok I gotta go she is wandering around now looking for her socks so I better help I’ll see you later ok text me when your there , ok bye bye bye and the phones goes dead leaving you laughing at the thought of your girl running around looking for socks which you know she will be treating like a Military mission in that room !

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Later on that day after checking in to the hotel and getting yourself ready , wearing a tight green dress that you knew drive Leah crazy with your hair down and curled and black heals, you where standing that the bar of the restaurant that had been booked out for today with holly catching up on every bit of gossip you had missed being away which was lot it seemed!

Although after the 7th time checking the door you did catch holly giving you a very knowing smirk which made you laugh purely because you didn’t care how obvious you where being, ever since Amanda text to say they where 20 minutes away you could help but look out for them ! You wanted your girl and weren’t even sorry about it !

The restaurant was full of Leah’s close family and friends most of which were now laughing at the twitter comments over Leah being the queen of England now ! Lol

You only snapped out of staring at the door when you heard Jen Leah’s teammate call you

Jen: y/n how does it feel to have bagged England’s new queen all you heard was laughter which then turned to cooing and awe’s when you replied saying y/n: she has always been my queen

And right as you said that you seen her your queen walk past the window towards the door looking out of this world and every bit worthily of the title queen in your opinion but it was to time and time for you to hide in the crowd who had all turned to face the door waiting for her to come in, to which when she did come in she was meant by just noise of chatting and clapping but all you could hear was her laugh that beautiful laugh while she made her way around people still not spotting you !

Amanda however snuck around to hug you whispering how she couldn’t wait to see Leah’s face !

After around 5 minutes of her still not spotting you , you had enough of waiting so grabbed a glass of champagne and made your way up behind her as she spoke to Alex Scott and Kim little both of who started smiling the second they seen you approach!

Y/n: would the new queen like a drink you said standing behind her and while you couldn’t see her face you could see her body freeze as she heard your voice which made your heart burst. Y/n you heard her whisper still not turning around which made you giggle given that all you wanted right now was to kiss her still though you stepped forward so you where right behind her meaning you could whisper in her ear hello baby, any chance I could get a hug now? You didn’t even have a split second to react when her arms where around your neck with such force that if ever the sensible kimmy hadn’t if grabbed the champagne out if your hands it would have been all down the back of Leah’s very expensive looking suit !

Suddenly all the people in the room weren’t there anymore the only thing that you noticed was your girl finally in your arms after way to long and while pulling her impossibly closer to you , you just breathed her in every part of you and missed every part of her and now here you could never imagine being away from her again which made what you were about to do even more clear in your head, so while holding her as close as possible with one arm your eyes met Leah’s grandmas giving her a nod and hold out your hand , you watched as the whole room tried to contain themselves as she placed the black velvet box in your hand giving your hand a small squeeze as she did !

Focusing back on Leah who’s head was still buried in your neck, pulling back slightly so you could see her with a massive smile on your face that was thankfully matched by her, finally gave you the chance to look into those eyes that have had you weak for years. It’s only when you see her eyes flick down to your lips that you pull her in making sure she can’t feel the box behind her back, although all sense leaves your body the second her lips meet yours for the first time in over 2 months. Finally it feels like I’m home you think, kissing her is home , she is home and with that thought you remember what you have hidden behind her back so with one final kiss you pull back to be met with a pout from her.

Leah: your here, your actually here

Y/n: I’m here baby I would never miss this looking at the smile on her face makes all the sneaking around worth it

Leah: please tell me I have you for more than one night baby before you go back the pout comes back to her face again as she speaks Giggling at her you step back completely! Here goes nothing you think as you look into her eyes again how about forever you whisper never breaking eye contact, seeing the confusion on her have made you smile as you looked down at the box in your hands which was now between you and Leah, flicking your eyes back up seeing that hers where now fixed on the box in your hands as well it was go time so slowly you lower down onto one knee and open the box , hearing the gasp come from her gave you the confirmation that the band you had chosen was the right choice!

Y/n : le there is nothing I could say right now that would be any different to anything I have told you every day for the past 4 years but what I will say is how proud I am to be yours baby, every day with you is the best day of my life letting out a shaky breath as you see the tears in her eyes before you carry on and I want that for the rest of our lives, so Leah Williamson OBE you give her a cheeky smirk as the room fills with laughter , will you do me the honour of marrying me? Holding your breath for the whole 0.2 of a second it takes before you hear her say yes yes a million times yes , smiling with the tears running down both your faces you pull the ring from the box and finally put it on her finger as she pulls you up into a bruising kiss.

You hear the cheers in the room, the clapping and banging on tables but all you feel is her , your finance , your Leah , your home! It’s just you two in the bubble of whispered words between the two of you consisting of i love yous, don’t ever leave again and I can’t wait to make you my wife , everything in that moment is just perfect!

**************************

Hours later after food , champagne, a lot of laughter and more love than you could imagine, you are standing back beside your finance at the side of the room arms wrapped around each other just watching your friends and family around you. Turning to Leah you decide to take the teasing that’s been going on between the two of you for over an hour now to the next level,

Y/n: I booked us into a hotel for the next 2 nights so I hope you have no plans for tomorrow you say while looking her up and down because I have no plans on leaving that hotel room tomorrow. Watching as her eyes darken on front of you you step a little closer to her so you can whisper in her ear and just so you know earlier wasn’t the only time I plan on dropping to my knees for you my queen

And with that Leah walked away and started saying goodbye to everyone you giggling behind her especially with the knowing looks you got from some people in the room but to hell with it you hadn’t had your girl in 9 weeks so you where going to make the most of every minute if that night and every night for the rest of your life with your queen !

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #fanfic #x reader #imagine #one shot #female reader

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historiaxvanserra · 2 months

Text

Every Exquisite Thing | A Regency AU

Summary: The first of the season brings with it so many things; new friends, new enemies, a masquerade ball, and a rakish young gentleman with eyes like burnished gold.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (Regency AU)

Word Count: 3.1k

This is the first part of a series that had been consuming my thoughs day and night for about two weeks. We don't meet Eris yet but we get glimpses and I like what I see 👀 I just wanted to give a feel for the regency vibe and see if we're feeling it or not! Next chapter well get Eris in all his regency glory and I promise you, he's worth the wait.

The townhouse that your family occupies on the main street of the Ton is unusually quiet this morning, you think. The first of the season typically brings with it an air of frivolity; the ladies in their Spring colors, gentlemen riding horse-drawn carriages through the cobblestone streets and the hum of the city beyond. A myriad of color -- lilacs and honeysuckle, dappled with the greenery that climbs along the facades of the townhouses -- a colorful oasis from the bleak gray and green of a Winter spent in the country.

However, today, the main square, where Pryhtian’s most ancient and noble families convalesce during the fairer months, is blanketed in an oppressive palette of indigo and gray as the last of the Winter’s storms ravages the world beyond Crescent House.

The sound of the howling wind as it rages like a great tempest through the streets rouses you from your perch on the chaise near the dying hearth.

The street below the parlor is veiled in the shadowed hues of the storm and not a soul in town has dared brave the wrath of the elements since the dourpour began. Hail patters dismally against the window panes of your families townhouse and an ice-kissed wind crawls its way along the exposed planes of your shoulders and collarbones and in the distance you hear the distinctive draw of a carriage along the main square, near Forest House. As you near the window you observe the hail as it falls like pearls from the darkening sky onto wet, cobbled streets.

From the oppressive darkness a carriage emerges; a considerable vehicle of polished wood, lacquered with dark emerald paint, the trim and doors are framed with delicate golden embellishments and the doors and rear bear a family crest, obscured by the gloom of the afternoon. The cart itself is drawn by four bay stallions with long, dark manes, sodden with the downpour. From the cabin steps a shadowy figure of a man, once obscured by the oppressive darkness, now illuminated by the lamplight; he’s all dressed in black, save for the white collar of a linen shirt and his long hair, curls away from his face in tousled, auburn waves. He burns most ardent against the bleak afternoon, even in the din of the oil lamps, he looks like something out of one of Feyre’s paintings. Or perhaps the formidable and brooding romantic lead of the romance novels Nesta so adores. Either way he cuts an intimidating figure in the dark streets of the main square. Tall and broad-shouldered, and rather rakish as he stalks up the steps of the townhouse opposite yours.

From your perch overlooking the street you see him turn outward; admiring the graceful planes of his face, the aquiline nose and high-cheekbones falling to the slender cut of his waist and hips and the broad spread of his shoulders and sculpted arms.

It occurs to you then that you have been all too obvious in your voyeurism.

You are watching him.

And he is watching you in return.

The very thought elicits something in you; something dark and sentimental and terribly anxious. It is a cruel, coiling thing, in the pit of your stomach. Some ill-fated omen. A harbinger of your own downfall. The ghost at the feast, or a raven in the night that spells your undoing. Whatever it is, there is a deep sense of foreboding in you at the prospect of what this dark figure might herald in with him.

The tolling of the city bells brings with it a flurry of movement on the street and your eyes meet his strange amber gaze across the way and he scowls. A deep furrow of a brow; the firm set of his jaw, the flex of a pale hand, before retreating into the house.

“Come away from the window girl,” Your mother chastises in her usual cutting tone as she eyes you from her place in front of the hearth. Her gloved hand inspects the fine silk fabric of the dresses the modiste had sent to her. She holds the fabric between those fine-boned fingers and drapes each swatch over the pale skin of her slender arm with a rehearsed ease as she takes the time to scrutinize every hand-sewn seam and embroidered adornment.

“Yes mama.” You say absentmindedly, casting one last longing glance towards the dark facade of the townhouse across the street, where the orange flicker of candlelight illuminates the window..

Your mother is an austere woman with a cutting sort of beauty rather unlike your own. Her eyes are cold and grey and her features, angular; feline in a way that is almost unnerving to look at. Though even in her age, she bares fine, high cheekbones, unblemished skin, and her long golden hair falls over the delicate slope of her shoulder in coiffed ringlets. She had been quite a remarkable beauty in her youth, it had been said. Now all that remains of her lost youth is an oil painting hung above the hearth-- the paint, yellowed and cracked with age-- and the legacy of her ancient and most-noble lineage.

Her piercing gaze falls onto you again as you take a turn about the room, perching on the cushioned bench in front of the pianoforte. You run a hand over the untuned keys and in your wake dust mites filter through the stagnant air.

That piano had once been the beating heart of this room; a symphony of high arching notes that rang through the halls of this house.

It has not been touched since Nesta left.

“You look drawn, my dear,” She says simply, her eyes cruel and unyielding as she looks over you and the fine silk draped over her arm, “green does so very little for your complexion.”

She considers you for a moment longer before turning to the modiste with a quirked brow. The seamstress at least, has the good grace to look apologetically between you and your youngest sister before nodding in agreement to your mother. She murmurs that a deeper shade of green would suit you better, though your mother ignores her entirely.

“Perhaps an emerald tone would suit better” she muses to no one in particular.

“It would make you look more…tempting” The modiste decides with a sly smile to you when your mother looses a shrill gasp. Your mother hums her disapproval once more from her spot in the armchair before turning her attention towards Feyre on the modiste’s podium as the slender woman takes her measurements for the last alterations to her gown.

“You look beautiful Fey,” You say lightly, pulling at your own faded sage gown as you regard your youngest sister, “the silver looks exquisite on you.” Feyre smiles brightly at you from her place on the podium and pulls a few strands of her long, golden hair to frame her face. She looks as though she is wreathed in starlight in the silver gown; the high bust lays perfectly over her chest and the cuffed sleeves are trimmed with silver thread and sheer lace and accentuate the slope of her strong shoulders, the skirts fall in a swathe of silk and chiffon and the pearls and opal sewn into the skirts catch like moonglow in the blue light. She smooths the skirts with a flair of her gloved hand and admires the matching slippers that peek out from the long hem.

“Hmm,” Your mother murmurs lowly, bringing a slender hand to her painted mouth as she assesses the garment carefully, “Yes - the silver favors you, my darling.” Your mother purses her lips once more and nods decisively at the modiste who offers a courteous bow in response.

“I have hopes that the Lady of Autumn might name you her ‘incomparable’, afterall.” Your mother’s voice is frightfully wistful as she casts a look up to her portrait hung above the dying fire. Beside it, on the mantle Nesta’s painted face stares back impassively at you and you feel anxiety twisting within you again. Feyre laughs. A small, disbelieving thing as she thanks the modiste and exits the parlor in favor of her sketchbook.

“She did so love Nesta when she was first presented,” You mother recalls, her eyes glassy as she sips at her cold tea with a grimace, “and your sister does so remind me of her.”

You smile fondly at the thought of your eldest sister; painfully absent for the last few years but missed dearly. Nesta had always bore the brunt of your mother’s cruelty -- until she could bare it no more -- and then you took her place.

“Yes mama, she will do very well at court.” You say genuinely, though your mother can’t bring herself to acknowledge you. You bite down the bitter taste of jealousy when her eyes linger on the portrait of Nesta hung along the mantel. The way her brows dip in a moment of fleeting grief for her favorite daughter.

When she looks at you again you get the sense that looking at you now -- in the pallid light of the storm -- is like looking in a mirror.

It is a mother’s curse you think.

A daughter’s burden.

Breathing deeply as the modiste pins the hem of the dress you find yourself thinking of the happy recollections of your childhood; you think perhaps your mother is reminiscing on those times too.

She had been the only daughter of an Earl somewhere on the continent once. Beautiful and graceful. Green and foolhardy. Named the incomparable of her own social season; she had dreams of an idyllic life in the countryside, summers shaded in the laughter of her many sons, and measured in the unyielding smiles of a good husband.

Of course, as was the way of things, her girlhood ideations had been nought but that-- dreams. Dashed and divided like stardust in a vast twilight abyss.

A series of scandals and bad investments led her to Pryhtian as the sole heir to an old name. A lamb to the slaughter by her own mother, to be the docile wife of some dull Lord, almost two decades her senior

In time, she did the same to her own daughters.

Time is a cruel mistress; and the woman she is now is one tarnished by the years. Imposing and cynical; demanding in a way that it was impossible to please her. In your youth you recall her endless cruelty towards you all, though none more than Nesta.

Her prodigy.

Her pride and joy.

It was that ceaseless need for perfection that drove Nesta away in the end.

So with the wave of her hand she gestures to you to take to the podium.

An ill-fated replacement for the daughter she lost.

Her perpetual disappointment.

The modiste is a young woman, who hails from the continent with beautiful dark hair that fell in coiled ringlets over her shoulders, she speaks to you in a low, velvet tenor and has a thick accent that distinguishes her to the natives of this land. She is favored by many of the young ladies of the Ton for her exquisite garments; each made with richly adorned and embroidered fabrics imported from her homeland. You watch impassively as she records your measurements and swatches a few scraps of fabric against your skin. The woman quickly discards the silver that Feyre had worn and opts instead for gold and offers your mother a few other options for your dresses this season; sapphire and cerulean, emerald and ruby, topaz and onyx.

Then selects a beautiful emerald gown, trimmed with jade and adorned with matching beads and crystals that shine with the glittering darkness of some forgotten forest when the light of the storm outside refacts in their many surfaces. The modiste admires the garment as she holds it up to you; her keen eyes finding yours and smiling brightly and nodding deliberately.

“This is the one,” She says, her accent so thick with delight that it is difficult to fully understand the words, “perhaps the Lady of Autumn might name you her favorite in your sisters place” She offers it jovially, almost in jest but your mother’s face twists nonetheless.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Your mother laughs cruelly as she regards you in the beautiful garment. You think perhaps that in you she sees all the things she hates about herself. Your mother takes a moment to scrutinize you; her eyes reap over every curve and divot of the skirts as they fall against you, every minute details to find fault where she can.

It is a mothers’s curse, not to know a daughter’s pain.

You imagine it is also a mercy too when she looks at you like you are her own reflection.

Her perpetual disappointment.

After another silent moment she nods her head to the modiste and rises to her feet. The tea cup rattles and rings viscously through icy air as she sets it down and wanders towards the doors.

“Oh Feyre darling, you look exquisite!” Your mothers voice is shrill and dripping with pride that elicits a strange sort of jealousy and you swallow down its bitter taste. In the foyer your sister glides down the marble staircase dressed in all her finery.

Feyre has the type of beauty reminiscent of a falling star; all pale skin, that looks like porcelain, dappled with the iridescent stardust that falls from the sky around her birthday each year. Her dress is one of flowing indigo and complemented by intricate silver embroidery along the cuffs and bust, the long line of her neck is adorned with pearls and diamonds that refract in the light of the chandelier; dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky.

She smiles brightly and her laugh echoes like birdsong around the hall as your mother takes her hand. And almost like an afterthought, your mother regards you with thinly veiled horror at the garment that clings to you like a plate of armor.

A deep merlot gown, inlaid with rubies and pearls; that cast a bloody halo as you step into the light of the chandelier. The skirts bleed into a train made of gossamer thin spidersilk that has a metallic quality to it that makes you feel as though you are some ancient Goddess of love and war.

Aphrodite perhaps, as deadly as she is beautiful.

Your hands, though they tremble, bare many gold rings, each polished to the heavens so that she sees her face distorted in their many unblemished surfaces. There is a part of you that hopes craves your mothers love more than you long to insight her ire.

But that part of you died the day Nesta went away.

“How do you suppose you’re going to tempt a man into marrying you dressed like that,” She chastices, pulling at the skirts of your wine red dress, “you look like a common whore.”

“At least a whore is paid to abide the insipid company of boring men.” you counter under your breath as your mother strides out into the street. You catch Feyre’s eye and she smiles at you like a feral cat.

The rest of the carriage ride is spent in solemn silence as the facade of The town hall draws ever closer. You mother’s idle gossip about one Lord of the other hardly seems the rouse you from though as you watch the world beyond this cart pass you by.

The storm had broken sometime around midday and the tempest gave way to sunlight; soft ochre and gold as it filtered through the open windows of your father’s library, where you had spent the afternoon. Nestled into the worn armchair favored by your father and a quiet comfort when he is away. There, in the confines of your father’s study, you allow yourself to dream; of debauched gentlemen and tortured artists. Stories painted with the vivid imaginings of Gothic heroines and vast and sweeping landscapes. Of temptation and sacrifice.

It is a hobby inherited from your sister and one much discouraged by your mother.

But as afternoon bled into night you were called away from the pages of manuscripts written in some foreign tongue. For, the Lady of Autumn’s masquerade ball marks the true commencement of the social season each year. It is a night of mystery and secrets; of dark romance and all things fanciful.

It is the one night a year that you allow yourself to be swept up in the excitement of the season and tonight every eligible Lord and Lady will don their finery for a night of high-arching orchestral music and sweeping dances that herald in the social season.

It is tonight of all nights where the Lady of Autumn will name the incomparable of the season; a young woman both fair and accomplished that will inspire awe and ire in equal measure. For her troubles she might hope to tempt an eligible gentleman into marriage by summer’s end. And as your mother gives Feyre one more adoring look you know that she is hoping that your sister will insight that awe tonight.

The carriage draws to a tumultuous halt outside the doors of the grand town hall and you hear the distant laughter of courtiers. The chatter of the ladies distracts you momentarily and you catch their idle chatter; something about the new Duke and his wicked beauty. A beauty as cruel as he is, they say. Their chatter dies when they meet your eyes and they devolve into mean-spirited whispers about the poor Archeron girls and their absent sister.

“Quickly girls, we mustn't be late.” Your mother instructs and steps from the carriage turning expectantly as you disembark from the vehicle with all the grace you can manage. Your stomach twists in knots and the anxiety is so consuming that it addles your mind. So much so that any intelligent thought you might have had seems to abandon you.

The gardens of the town hallare saturated in the light of the last shadowed sunbeams as they are obliterated by the rapidly falling night; veins of indigo and amethyst that streak across the black. The air is heady and thick with the smell of wildflowers and wine and every now and again you catch the scent of half-burned oak and bergamot’s on the evening breeze.

The first of the season is in full swing and the courtiers look like a jewel toned fire in their finery; swathes of ruby and topaz, dappled with emerald and carnelian. You had felt the shift in the air when the sun had begun to set in the sky; that anticipation so palpable you could taste it. It tastes like wood and wildflowers, undercut with something darker.

You abandon yourself to the thought of it; what he might taste like.

Hedonism; earthy and dangerous as you swallow it back.

In an hour or two, when the stars materialize like a million quarts against the velvet abyss, the Ladies will retreat into the mazes, in twos or threes and their Lords, like hungry wolves will begin the hunt.

A hunt that will last the season

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris acotar #eris vandaddy

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canisalbus · 4 months

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Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3

The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.

It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->

They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!

I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.

"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!

"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.

"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.

At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.

"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.

He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."

"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".

I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.

How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.

#its was so sweet to sit near him #to look at him #for two nights already we have been saying “thou” to each other #answered #alphaori #the pet name game is strong #my angel #my meek one #my savior #my darling #my precious tender flower

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genericpuff · 3 months

Text

Lore Olympus Episode 265 Betrays the Series' Own Messages of Consent

I've been keeping it on the down low lately with new episodes of LO, both for the sake of my mental health and because LO itself has just become so... pointless and boring. There's only so much to say when nothing is happening, and in that regard, I will preface this with a "congratulations" towards Rachel, because she's finally found a way to best the "haters" - make the comic so boring that there's nothing worth talking about to begin with.

At first glance I thought this was going to be another one of those episodes. Good job, Rachel, you managed to pad out another episode with pointless fluff to get you closer to that looming end date. Just keep dragging, just keep dragging, just keep dragging-

But the longer I sat on it, and read the comments and posts about it in discussion circles, the more I've realized that this episode in particular has a load of issues that I don't feel good just sitting on and not talking about. Primarily because, over the course of about 90% of this episode's length, we see Lore Olympus - and Rachel - slyly undo everything that ever mattered in its subtext about consent, healthy relationships, and strong communication.

Granted, Lore Olympus has never exactly been the poster child for those things, but it's trying to be, so we're going to dissect it with an equal amount of scrutiny. It wants to be taken seriously, so I'm going to take it seriously and criticize it seriously.

CONTENT WARNING: EPISODE 265 SPOILERS AHEAD, AS WELL AS DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, MENTAL HEALTH, GROOMING, AND SYMPTOMS OF MANIA, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Episode 265 opens with an attempt at plot progression, returning to Morpheus who, last we checked, had been targeted by Kronos as the cliffhanger for Episode 259 before being shoved aside entirely for multiple episodes worth of Demophoon, pool-fucking, and a vision from Hera.

Honestly, I won't waste my 30 image limit on the episode's opening sequence because it accomplishes absolutely nothing. And by the time it starts to try and state what that goal is, it transitions away, because Rachel has the attention span of a squirrel on meth and having Morpheus state what her plan is would just be too much dedicated writing for her at this point, she needs another week at least to figure it out.

So instead we get exactly what was promised in the FastPass previews - the entire episode is spent, yet again, on Hades and Persephone, with the exact same topics, conclusions, and terrible sex as the pool scene.

Seriously, this might be a nitpick, but I'm so tired of Persephone not being allowed to swear. We've seen other characters swear. We've even had Kronos call her a "dumb fucking bitch". But this "girlboss" character who we're supposed to believe has "agency" can't be allowed to swear even when they're in an ACTUALLY STRESSFUL SITUATION? You know purity culture isn't exclusive to sex, right, Rachel? If you're gonna deconstruct it, maybe don't have the poster child of that deconstruction be relegated to a church girl? She's literally the Queen of the Underworld - adjacent to the ruler of Hell - let her fucking swear LMAO

Anyways, we see very quickly that Persephone is still feeling the ill effects of her anxiety that she was feeling in the last episode. Anxiety that, by the way, caused her to pass out. Please keep that in mind, don't let it escape.

And what is she stressing over? The genocide? The fact that they still don't have an actual solution to the ongoing "plague"?

Nah. The sleep dive. She's stressing over her husband doing the sleep dive again and - like last time - turning into a dad-possessed monster.

As always, the fear and anxiety is in no way linked to the actual devastation happening outside - it's just concern for the main male lead, because that's all Persephone's character and thoughts and opinions and "agency" can revolve around.

But uh. Remember that scene where Hades got possessed by Kronos and literally strangled her? Remember that scene I just asked you to keep in your brain about her panic attacks getting so bad she's been passing out?

Hello? No? Okay. Next.

I hate, I loathe, I detest this dialogue. Not because it's cliche as fuck - it is - but because the whole "I trust you, it's just xyz I don't trust" shit has been overplayed and debunked as a plausible response in relationship communication for years now.

We talked about this back during our discussion of Leuce - how it shouldn't matter if Persephone doesn't trust Leuce because ultimately Leuce can't do anything to her or Hades' relationship if it's built on as much "trust" as she claims it is, trusting Hades is all that should matter full stop - and it repeats itself here, albeit with Hades' dad instead of his canon first wife. This is a copout. Relationships actually built on trust can definitely still be worried about the issues posed by other people, but if you trust your partner, if you truly trust your partner, that's it. That's where the sentence ends. No shit you don't trust Kronos, we've been over this song and dance multiple times before and while he's definitely a bigger real threat than Leuce, your distrust for Kronos has nothing to do with how you're communicating with your partner who knows there's likely no other way and a solution has to be found. Nothing's being accomplished at this point from Persephone moping around and having sex with her husband, and he's showing 10x more initiative in actually finding a solution - even if it means putting his own safety at risk - than Persephone.

I didn't edit any of that, those are the legit real panels. Literally what the fuck is this dialogue, my tinfoil hat theory about LO being written by ChatGPT is becoming more and more plausible and I hate that, my crackpot theories shouldn't actually become reality.

Is there an owl in here?

LO is just spinning its wheels over the exact same conversation and points that have already been made. Nothing is being accomplished here, it's just more moping and going over the same problems - the centre of which being "what about H x P's relationship?? :(((("

All of that repetitive meandering and moping for "okay fine but if anything feels weird, get out" "okay". It, again, accomplishes nothing that couldn't have been accomplished during the pool scene.

And now we get this line. "I experienced greed in that way, and you do not possess it." Don't be alarmed if you were confused, I was confused too, as were many people in the discussion circles. Thanks to the ULO Discord, I realized she was talking about Apollo. She's literally comparing him to Apollo.

"After all this time, I can't comprehend you causing me harm. I've been at the receiving end of harm so I would know" is literally all she's trying to say. And even with it translated... I don't really like the implications of it at all. This has been a problem since S1, but there's always been this subtext in LO that because Hades didn't rape her, that somehow makes him less abusive or a better partner for Persephone than Apollo, that's all the SA has really been trying to achieve.

But Hades is abusive. He's intentionally pursued women who are in a crisis. He's trapped women in financial dependency. He's sabotaged women from having power and status on the same level as him.

And now, we're about to see actual abuse from Hades - the subtle kind that demands co-dependency, but is still abuse, full stop - but it's being framed as "romantic".

"Being an Originals creator was my big chance to prove myself, and I flopped"- wait sorry I misread. We're talking about Persephone failing at being Queen. Yeah, she definitely flopped. And it goes to show her true intentions in wanting to be Queen, now that she's hit rock bottom and isn't putting on a brave PR face - she wanted to become Queen not to make the Underworld a better place, not to be an example of being a better ruler among a gallery of scumbags, but to "prove" that she could belong and be one of the big guys, that she could be more than just a cereal box mascot.

Don't get me wrong, I can absolutely get wanting to rise above the odds and "prove" to everyone that you can be more than people's perceptions of you, but becoming the literal ruler of a realm that you then go on to destroy due to your own hubris, just to whine and cry about it and have your husband and your colleagues and your friends carry the burden of that destruction on your behalf... therapy would have been a better first step to overcoming those insecurities, not taking control over the lives of innocent people.

Especially when Persephone DID have status and power before becoming Queen, it just wasn't the specific kind of status and power she wanted. She was only a trust fund child with a huge net worth, a full-ride scholarship, and everything she could ever need provided to her with little struggle to get it - but she didn't have control over other people so it just wasn't good enough.

This is the perspective and attitude of a 19 year old who never matured. Who never could mature because she transitioned from her mother's control into Hades'. There were far better ways to prove herself, ways that we had seen her try to do, only to drop so she could pursue her co-dependent relationship with Hades - she gave up her schooling, gave up her apartment (which we only see her use maybe 2-3 times), gave up so many of her connections and support so she could be with Hades.

This is the result of 5 years of real-time grooming that we're seeing play out.

No, you are just saying them because she's your wife. You'd be saying it to Minthe, or Leuce, or Hera, or any other woman in Persephone's position because it's not about taking accountability, it's about keeping these women in a position of submissiveness and co-dependency, by giving them reassurance that nothing they ever do is wrong and that he's the only one that can give them that freedom from consequences.

And then we get the reinforcement.

I'm gonna spare you all the cringe of the actual sex scene (and yes, they do straight up go into having onscreen sex and it's... not hot at all), but here's some of the dialogue spoken by Hades during the entire sequence:

Again, let's remember the actual situation that led up to this and the position Persephone is currently in. For the third time Persephone has "accidentally" killed thousands of people. Over the past few episodes we've seen her try to realize how so many of these problems have been her fault and she clearly doesn't know how to make things right (and Rachel has made it obvious how much she doesn't want you to agree with this kind of self-awareness because much of it is being said through the mouthpiece of a rapist). And now we have Hades, reinforcing the thought patterns that would prevent her from growing and learning and changing. In this, a comic that's supposed to be "feminist", a comic that's trying to preach the importance of consent, a comic that's trying to make us believe this is a healthy, consenting relationship with strong communication skills.

These are literally grooming tactics. Hades is reinforcing the same thought patterns that will prevent Persephone from acknowledging her errors and mistakes. People are dying and Hades is telling her that if anyone has anything to say about it, they deserve to die anyways. The same man who literally rewarded her with sex for vandalizing a nymph's home is now telling her that she's not cruel, but kind:

Hades might not be Apollo, but he literally choked her out less than a week ago while possessed by his dad, and for the last SEVERAL episodes he's had the starry skin making him resemble who? Oh yeah, his dad.

Hades is literally holding Persephone in the same position Kronos did, while she's experiencing a literal meltdown that she's trying to stuff deep down - in fact, exhibiting a LOT of symptoms of mania - and initiating sex.

Doesn't this feel a little familiar?

Oh right, but he asks her if she's "still okay" mid sex only AFTER initiating chokehold sex with her without her consent and love-bombing her, so it's fine, clearly.

I remember being 17 years old and reading Fifty Shades of Grey for the first time, and even then understanding fully how toxic their relationship was. I can only hope the teenagers in Rachel's comment section can realize that as well, but judging by the comment section, I'm not holding out hope. This is literally "fifty shades of fucked up" material, and what's worse is that I can't tell if Rachel genuinely thinks this is healthy, or just doesn't realize how unhealthy it's coming across as. Even beyond how "cringe" this sequence is, it enters into the realm of being deeply uncomfortable and unsettling, and it needs to be talked about, Rachel can't be let off the hook for this especially when this is supposed to be, again, a comic that's intending to "deconstruct purity culture" and teach young girls about consent and boundaries.

And that's it, that's the end of the episode. It reads like the manifesto of a villain in the making at the hands of a predator, like Anakin being manipulated by Palpatine - "so long as you're with me, you'll have all the power, all the glory, and everyone else will be crushed underneath your heel."

Is that really the message we really want to come away from LO from? That it's fine for husbands to initiate sex with their wives through trauma-bonding and reinforcement of toxic thought patterns rooted in grooming because... they're married? That being a "girlboss" means sabotaging and abusing anyone who you perceive as a threat?

Is Hades really that much different from Apollo? Because so far, the line between his actions and Apollo's are seriously starting to blur. The parallels between Persephone and his past partners - Minthe and Hera - have always been clear, but they've never been quite so loud as last night's episode.

This is Hades' play, the play of a groomer and an abuser who depends on making their victims dependent on them - taking advantage of women while they're in a crisis.

For Minthe, it was financial - she had lost her job, blamed it on him, and he found a way to "solve her problem" that strategically put her into a position where she had to continue to financially depend on him for what's assumed to at least be a year or longer, through her apartment, her bills, and her job.

For Hera, it was emotional - she had chosen Zeus over him, and instead of addressing her marital concerns within the marriage, she participated in an affair with Hades in an attempt to have what she could have had if she had chosen Hades instead, a man who resembles her own abuser. Not only did this put her into a much more vulnerable position than him - if the affair was found out, Hera would have suffered the consequences far more than Hades - but it's also manifested itself into Persephone, who Hera has been using as a stand-in for herself, even going so far as to manipulate Persephone's image and how she goes about her decision-making, from intentionally pulling the strings to get Persephone a job with Hades so she could get closer to him as a "test" for Hades, to forcing Persephone to wear a wedding dress she wanted her to wear over the one Persephone had actually picked out herself.

And now there's Persephone, the newest addition to the cycle of abuse and untreated trauma, the true culmination of Hades' years trapping and manipulating women - financially dependent on him, emotionally dependent on him, and only where she is because she's made her entire identity revolve around him.

I'm not going to psychoanalyze Rachel in any way, I don't want anyone to think that this is permission to do so because Rachel's personal life is her own and I want to examine the material rather than the person. But so much of LO gives me such a gross impression that Rachel herself never matured past middle school, that she never grew beyond the mindset of being a 13 year old girl who felt like the entire world was against her and that no one could understand her, that she never gained the perspective most adults do by the time they're 25 at minimum after they've entered the "real world" and had the lived experiences that make you realize "wow, that girl I hated in high school for stealing my crush from me probably wasn't as bad as I thought she was and we were all just teenagers trying to navigate the hellscape that is adolescence."

And instead of actually analyzing those thought patterns and mindsets, Rachel is instead reinforcing it in her own audience of 13 year old girls and teenagers who will only hopefully maybe outgrow it and not just repeat the cycle themselves.

And this isn't entirely on Rachel's shoulders. It's on the shoulders of E.L. James, of Stephanie Meyer, of Colleen Hoover, of every "young adult" romance author who's peddled this strictly heteronormative "submission culture but not like the 1950's kind I swear" crap, that women should only aspire to find the richest man they can bag in their pursuit for power and after that everything in the world is owed to them and any problem they have can be solved by riding dick. Trauma? Solved. Genocide? Solved. The very real consequences of your own actions that affect others to such a degree that it will be felt for decades? Solved. Just ride that dick and get that money, girlboss.

Just like 50 Shades of Grey, if Lore Olympus was any other story, it would be a tragedy. It would be a masterclass in understanding and showcasing the signs of emotional abuse, financial abuse, grooming, trauma-bonding, love-bombing, and enforcing co-dependent habits for the sake of trapping people. It would be a precautionary tale to young girls to stay alert and be wary of older men, that men like Hades are depending on girls to fall for their tricks, their praise, their affirmations that they're so mature for their age, that they're not like other girls, that they would just be so set for life if they spent all their time and attention with them, so that they can "have it all".

I can only hope that even a third of the young girls who read LO naturally grow up, gain perspective, and learn that LO isn't the pillar of healthy relationships and consent that it tries to be. It's certainly a common thing to see these days, for people to join the UnpopularLoreOlympus / #antiloreolympus community with sentiments that they started reading it at age 14 and then (thankfully) learned that what LO was preaching wasn't healthy.

But for every other girl who doesn't realize this, it's reinforcement of the same cycles - the cycle of women being only objects for sex, pitting themselves against one another, confusing gender empowerment with abuse towards others, and making their entire identity revolve around a man and justifying it as healthy so long as it makes them rich and powerful.

Even if Rachel some day gets her own head out of her ass and realizes what damage she's causing in her audience, like Persephone committing genocide, no amount of self-awareness will undo the consequences. She'll still have the awards, the money, the accolades, everything she's gained off the backs of Greek myth, feminism, and good faith from an immature audience who doesn't know any better and isn't being given the tools to understand.

Even if she realizes that, that's something she's going to have to live with for the rest of her career.

And it's a fucking tragedy.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus

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