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#that just happened and as that first tag would indicate
anakinh · 1 year
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shout out to star wars: brotherhood for single-handedly getting me back into star wars. also fuck you, eat shit, how dare you
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failed221b-chill · 2 years
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Every now and then when i need a giggle i go through my "fragmentary wips" list which is just like one line descriptions of various vague amusing concepts, a lot of disney templates, and including such a diverse range from 'things i will never write' to 'oh dear god i really wish i had time to write this properly' to 'ooops ive drafted 10k of this two months ago and now i have no idea when im going to get to finish it!!!'
Anyways heres a few different categories they fall in:
The very very basic duh obvs: chongyun beauty and the beast au, and chongyun tangled au.
The wildly niche no one will understand what this means probs but definitely not the Implications: yizhan devils cub au, chongyun wangxian sprig muslin au
The recognisable but okay wouldnt have made that leap but no hear me out because it fits them: mr national health service and sect leader jiang are the couple in hello dolly (yes, the iconic musical), wangxian persuasion au (but wangji kills a dragon and it's a metaphor)
The very very niche was written for individual friends for our mutual tastes and made up characters and are already complete but have become much longer series in my mind... ZYW and JC, XY and XXC, (yes this has happened with multiple friends... ask me about what happens next in fics that will never be released to ao3 bc they were special unique bday gifts!!! I have so many expansion wider plot plans omg)
The 'i watched a tv show/movie/read a book and now i rewatch it in my head with my blorbos instead': monster hunt the movie but with wangxian and a-yuan, catboy xie yun based entirely on chat noir from ladybug, peter pan, holes, friday's child, these old shades
Now, we enter the territory of
plain old stupid shit:
JIANG LIZARDS
- inspired by a shitpost, peak yunmeng bros angst.
And one more stupid fragmentary wip hidden under the cut for comedic effect.
Redfic monsters inc au
Xie Yun is Mike wazowski cos corrects Randall when being tortured and composes music "put that thing back where it came from or so help me!"
Ji Chong is obvs sully. Best in the business. Lovable.
A-Fei is Boo.
Pls read "A-Fei is Boo" in the same delivery as "zendaya is meechee."
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mootmuse · 1 year
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Y'all. We've got to talk about that fucking gandalf big naturals joke.
If you're going to post a meme where the whole joke is just the image of a guy with tits, ha ha, look at this man, he's got tits, what more do I need to say about how hilarious that is, etc etc, at least tag it so people like me can block it. I get that none of y'all are thinking about what exactly it is you're laughing at, you don't mean it, but for a website full of people who never stop yelling at the top of their lungs about how trans inclusive they are, I'd think some of you guys could do a little better.
#i get it right?#people don't think about what they laugh at. laughter just comes naturally.#once when i was a cashier these two girls ran up to the cashier next to me asking where their parents were#and the cashier's customer grinned real wide and said they'd probably already left. his whole posture and tone indicated that it was a joke#and that everything was okay and nothing serious was happening#when he laughed the cashier laughed too and the kids left#a minute later another customer came up to the cashier and went OFF on her for it#saying what if those kids had panicked and run into the parking lot or street looking for their parents etc#and this cashier was a sweet old grandma who spent all her breaks knitting. she never would have wanted to endanger those kids#or even just freak them out#she just laughed on instinct because her social instincts told her to follow the first customer's tone and body language#which were telling her that everything was fine and that a joke was happening and to laugh#i would definitely have laughed. I know me. I don't think quickly enough to react the way I want to in person#so i get it. but like. after we laugh it's up to us to think a little bit about why we laughed#and where exactly the punchline was#while y'all have already signed up for my in-tags essay:#I know you could make the argument that the humor lies in seeing a character who doesn't come off as sexy-#-now having a trait that contrasts with that image in a surprising way. the unexpected is the core of how humor works#but I've found the line between that and making fun of the idea of a man having 'feminine' qualities is REALLY thin#just asking that the next time you see a similar joke you think a little bit about the mechanics of it#how it works. why it works. where the punchline is. how a man who fits that description would feel about it
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halflingkima · 10 months
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u kno. going into this i was determined to romance isabela. (and maybe fenris but then he was an ass). but somehow i have not gotten like One (1) of her companion quests, leaving me to random guesses for what side interactions will garner her favor one way or the other.
meanwhile, i had sworn off anders bc what they’ve done to him since awakening (you ruined a perfectly good femboy is what u did. look at him. he’s got suicidal ideation.) but SOMEHOW. without trying. he’s obsessed with me. ............and i, a simple woman, am flattered
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bluebeary-jay · 11 months
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That funny feeling
Joel Miller x f!Reader
Summary: pet names are something that's equally very easy and very hard for Joel (based on this request!)
Tags: established relationship, F-L-U-F-F, a grain of angst, idiots in love, a lot of overthinking uGH, mutual dumbassery, love deprived (& soft) Joel, i'm playing with the timeline here a bit, alsoo suggestive undertones hehe
Warnings: swearing and miscommunication, and nothing more ig
Word count: 3.6K
A/N: i'm finally feeling okay!! it took a while and i'm sorry for the wait. as always i hope you all will like what i came up with, and thank you again dear for requesting 💕
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One of the things you noticed during those first few months of being in a relationship with Joel – and one which probably surprised you the most – was his fondness for using endearments when he was addressing you.
He called you by many names – darlin’, sweetheart and baby were just a tip of the iceberg.
And you adored it. Every single one of them.
How could you not when those pet names sounded so precious in that low and gruff voice of his? When the fact that he chose to let you get a glimpse at his softer side made you feel so special? 
He clearly liked doing this, too – and, as you suspected, watching your reaction when you received them. The tug of his lips and that dimple you so loved were an indicator enough that he wasn’t doing it out of obligation or because it was somehow expected of him.
Another thing that surprised you was how casual he was about it. Having not been in a proper relationship before made you feel out of your depth here, but from what you gathered, neither was he. At least for some time.
And yet, he seemed to have no problem or reservations about addressing you this way. He started even before he kissed you for the first time. You suspected that back then it was his strategy to show you – without voicing his intentions out loud – how he felt about you. It worked, somehow (because how were you supposed to resist that southern charm of his?), and once you both settled who you want to be for one another, it was like a switch flipped inside him.
But instead of turning it off, it only amplified his new habit and added more love and tenderness to the tone of his voice when he was calling you pet names.
You certainly were not complaining – especially when Joel was muttering those sweet words in a raspy voice into your skin when you were just waking up, or whispering them in your ear when you were passing each other during the day, brushing his hand against your waist.
So it was probably no surprise that you wanted to return the favor. The longer you were with each other, the more you wondered about what it would be like to call Joel by one of those endearments he used for you. If he would smile, if his eyes would crinkle in that adorable way…
Something was stopping you, though. Every time you were in public and Joel wasn’t currently looking at you, you were reminded of what kind of man you thought he was before you actually got to know him. His expression, the look in his eyes and his very presence were so intimidating that it gave you a pause each time. You knew he was a sweet, loving soul inside and it wasn’t like he’d be offended by being called by an affectionate nickname, or like your relationship would spiral down because of that.
…right?
What you did know, however, was that Joel Miller was a caretaker. A giver. And you wanted to take care of him, too, to make him feel as loved and cherished as he was making you feel – something you hadn’t a clue if you were doing right due to your own inexperience.
So one day, while you were tending to horses in the stables – one of your responsibilities in Jackson – you finally decided to stop overthinking and just… do what feels right to you. You were two grown-ass people. If anything happens – but probably nothing will – you’ll talk it out like adults.
You got lost in your own thoughts as you absent-mindedly brushed the coat of one of the horses. Suddenly, your attention was drawn by the animal neighing loudly but before you could look up, two strong arms embraced you from behind and a pair of lips pressed themselves to your neck.
You squealed in surprise, and then burst into giggles, when you felt Joel’s beard tickling your skin as he planted tender kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder.
“Mornin’, sweetheart.”
It was not morning, but you haven’t seen him at all today since he left very early to help Tommy and some other men build a new storage house near the main street. As usual, you planned on meeting him when you’re done in the stables, but you were more than happy that he chose to surprise you.
“Hi,” you giggled. You tried to turn around to face him, but Joel grumbled and held you tighter to his chest, so you settled for putting your hand on the back of his head in an awkward half-hug. “You have some nerve coming here after you left me so rudely in the morning.”
He let out a sound between a groan and a chuckle.
“I tried to say goodbye, but you were out cold.”
“You didn’t try hard enough, then.”
“Fine. Next time I’ll shake you awake.” He pressed his lips to your pulse, planting a soft kiss there, and then another one a little bit lower, murmuring into your skin. “But you wouldn’t do that either if you were me and had an angel in your bed.”
You blew a raspberry and shook your head, making him hum against your neck with a smile. “Too much?”
“Just a little.” You turned around in his arms, and he dropped his head on your shoulder. “How’s work going?”
The man sighed heavily.
“It’s goin’. But I swear to God, Tommy gets more insufferable the sooner due date is. He almost lost it when some of the materials went missin’.”
“Well, it’s understandable with a little Miller on the way,” you replied, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and making Joel give you the stink eye. You scrunched your nose at him teasingly. “Get that pout off your face, mister, and better start thinking about what we’re watching tonight. My place, right?”
“Mhm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but then angled his head to the side. There was a distant shouting from the direction of the road and you could faintly hear Tommy’s voice among the noise. Joel took a deep breath and his warm eyes met yours. “Alright, I better go before he does somethin’ stupid again. I’ll meet you tonight after guitar practice with Ellie.”
“Don’t be late again or I won’t let you in this time,” you said sweetly and a smirk danced on his lips.
“You’re annoyin’, you know that?” Joel leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and then a lingering one on your forehead. “I’ll be on time, promise.”
You smiled and pushed his chest gently, letting him know that he should get back to his brother. He laughed – this actual rare and heartfelt laugh of his, which reminded you yet again how much you loved him – and took a couple of steps back.
“I’m holding you to it, handsome. Now go.”
Joel started to turn around, but then came to a sudden stop as soon as he heard you. It came out a bit awkward because he was mid-step and his feet kind of tangled up together, making him stumble before he managed to catch his balance.
You snorted and tilted your head to the side to peer at him, but his face was unreadable, almost blank. Like that rare and genuine laugh from earlier wiped all the emotions out of him.
“Hey. You okay?” you asked with a playful smile, taking in his expression. Joel looked over at you but didn’t answer, and you raised your eyebrows. “Joel?”
He parted his lips, like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Something wasn’t right. His sudden silence wasn’t anything new – one of Joel’s main traits was being untalkative, though it got better since you two started dating, so you were used to it. But this was different. In his eyes there was a look of… you honestly couldn’t tell if it was awe or hurt. But you’ve never seen an expression like this on his face before.
He still didn’t say anything. You started feeling uneasy, but tried to play it off.
“Or… I could swing by Ellie’s before you two finish and–”
“I gotta go,” Joel muttered suddenly. “I’ll… see you later.”
He turned to the exit, but you quickly went around him and blocked his way with a frown. “Hey, hey, hey, wait. I’m serious now, are you okay?”
Joel glanced at you again, but then averted his eyes almost immediately. You gave him a weird look when he turned his head, as if looking for someone to get him out of here, but then a grin spread across your face when you noticed…
“Is this… Are you blushing?” you asked quietly. Joel winced and your smile got even wider. “You are! Does that–”
“I really gotta go, dar–” he stopped himself and patted your arm in a slapdash manner, not meeting your eyes. “I’ll see you later, alrigh’?”
Before you had a chance to ask or stop him, he walked away quickly, leaving you behind.
Your shoulders slumped and the smile disappeared from your face.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
*****
He did not see you later.
In fact, you didn’t have a chance to talk to him at all that day.
Once you finished your shift, you went looking for him but Joel wasn’t at the construction site, nor could you find him anywhere in town. You tried asking Tommy and Ellie about his whereabouts, but while his brother was as clueless as you, the teen seemed suspiciously quiet, and the second you took your eyes off her, she disappeared as well.
He didn’t come to your house that evening, and as it turned out, didn’t have guitar practice with Ellie, either. You felt a little hurt by the sudden disappearance, but ultimately decided against going to his house and invading his space when he clearly needed it.
It wasn’t until the next day that you saw the man again, but you never got a chance to ask him about what happened.
Joel came unannounced to your house and – literally and figuratively – swept you off your feet, acting a little softer and more… well, handsy than usual, but still in his normal Joel-like fashion, as if nothing ever happened. He did apologize for disappearing but it also seemed like he was trying really hard to avoid talking about yesterday altogether. So eventually you let it go.
The only explanation you could come up with was that you scared him off. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he just wasn’t okay with it – whatever the reason, it was evident he didn’t want you to bring it up.
So you decided to respect his boundaries and let the topic go. At least for now.
*****
Almost a week has passed, and you didn’t call him that again.
And fuck, if Joel wasn’t dying to hear that word from you just once more.
What he felt in that millisecond in the stables was so sudden and new – this weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach when you called him ‘handsome’ – that he honestly was at a loss how to react. Yes, he panicked (he wasn’t proud of that) and then when you pointed out the traitorous blush on his cheeks… it overwhelmed him.
Avoiding you for the rest of the day was a cowardly thing to do, but he needed some time to think about his next move before he could face you again.
He screwed up, that much was obvious. Joel didn’t know how to fix it, but he did have an idea how to make you feel comfortable enough to maybe do it again. A chance for him to react accordingly this time.
So since then, he made sure to show and tell you more often how important you were to him and how much he loved you, even though he was dying of cringe at times. His efforts were rewarding, of course – your every smile, every look in his direction was considered a win and a blessing in itself – and it seemed you forgot about his freak-out from the other day.
But you didn’t try it again.
And Joel didn’t know what to do. He’d never ask anyone for advice (God forbid Tommy ever finds out how big of a deal it was to his brother), and talking it out with you seemed like the most unattainable and impossible idea in the world.
You continued calling him by his name – and he couldn’t exactly complain when his name sounded so fucking perfect in your voice – but hell if Joel didn’t wish you try something else.
It didn’t even need to be this ‘handsome’ one you used. Any stupid nickname you come up with, he’d revel in it and this time wouldn’t chicken out.
Jesus, he had it bad. It was almost pathetic.
It wasn’t a life-changing, world-moving issue, though, and Joel wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about shit like that. There was still work needed to be done in Jackson, he and you still had your own lifes, and… days passed.
It was just over a week later, when Joel came back home from a late-night job to find you asleep in his living room, that he thought about it again.
His heart swelled with adoration when he saw your form curled up on the couch. You must’ve been waiting for his return, but neither of you expected his work to take this long.
Joel bent over and put one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around your body, grunting at the pain in his back. You inhaled sharply when he picked you up, grumbling something incoherent.
“Shh, babygirl, it’s me,” he whispered soothingly, cradling you against his chest. “I’ll put you in bed. Or do you want to go back home?”
You made a noise of disagreement and breathed him in deeply, not opening your eyes.
“You’re late,” you slurred instead of answering him, nuzzling into his chest. Joel sighed tiredly.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “The guys needed more help at the construction site.”
“Alright,” you mumbled again. “M’just glad you’re home now, honey.”
Joel’s feet stopped moving – gradually this time, not putting you at risk of being dropped – and he took a deep breath to tether himself before continuing his way to the bedroom.
You were asleep, he told himself while he was laying you down. It would be wrong to wake you and talk about it now. It could wait. He could wait.
Joel paused, then crouched at the head of the bed where he put you down, and delicately brushed some hair out of your forehead. His face was stoic, though those thoughts raged on like a hurricane inside his mind.
He had no idea how to do this. How to talk about this.
But he knew two things – he knew that his heart belonged to you, and that he didn’t want to settle for those pet names you accidentally muttered when half-awake, all because he was too much of a coward to admit what he wanted.
“Darlin’?”
“Hm?” you hummed, snuggling into his pillow.
Joel’s heart was beating so damn loud, he thought it was about to jump out of his chest. He took a grounding breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek softly.
“Say that again,” he asked quietly in a raspy voice.
You made a face, keeping your eyes closed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Joel swallowed hard and he was so nervous, he had to remind himself to unclench his jaw not to break all of his teeth.
Fucking Christ, he could take on the swarm of infected any day without losing his cool, so why was admitting stuff like this so damn difficult?
“Not now. Before. The…” he cleared his throat with embarrassment. His tongue felt like it was made of lead, and his face like it was shoved into a campfire, “pet name.”
That word finally got your attention. In a blink of an eye you were wide awake and lifted yourself on your elbows, rubbing your eyes. Joel almost regretted having said anything.
“Pet name?” you repeated, and then a shy, uncertain smile crept over your face. “Oh… I thought you said you didn’t like it.”
Don’t run, don’t you dare run now…
“I never said that,” he grumbled and furrowed his eyebrows, angry at himself that he made such a big deal out of it, that he had to talk about it now, a whole week later. You winced sheepishly.
“Well… Yeah, you didn’t, but the last time…” You sat up straight on the bed, rubbing your eyes again like you wanted to make sure you were entirely awake and focused for this conversation – which made Joel wishing even more that he had kept his mouth shut. “You ran off and I thought… I dunno, that…”
You shrugged, but you didn’t need to finish, for he understood how it must’ve looked.
Joel sighed heavily and put his forehead on your knee with fatigue. He felt your hands smoothing the shirt on his shoulders and back, and once again wondered what he did to ever deserve you.
“What do you say we don’t talk ‘bout this?” he proposed softly, feeling like a goddamn fool now. “Just… It felt nice. Good. And I want you to do it again… sometimes.”
“I want to talk about it, though.” You cupped his cheeks and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. A thought ran briefly through Joel’s mind about how fitting it was – he on his knees, looking up at you like the miracle you were. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“What do you think?” he whispered, looking away, though your hands kept his head in place. He raised one of his own to cover your fingers with his, keeping it there. “It’s… goddammit,” he swore and closed his eyes, squeezing your hand faintly. “It’s all just kinda new for me, too,” he said at last. “As dumb as it sounds.”
You swiped your thumbs over his cheekbones. “It’s not dumb.” He didn’t say anything, and after a couple of seconds you sighed. “Okay, we don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. Just… maybe try to give me a sign next time,” you offered gently. “I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
You were trying to lighten the atmosphere, bless your kind heart, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards despite the turmoil in his heart.
“Darlin’, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do for the past week. I’m not good at talkin’ but I… shit, I don’t know, I thought that if I start callin’ you like that more, it’ll… prompt you to do the same, I guess.”
At that, your hands slid off his cheeks and your face turned blank.
“Oh,” you breathed. Joel lifted his eyebrows in question and you added hurriedly: “I thought you were doing this to… I don’t know, let me know that you feel more comfortable calling me that than getting called…”
It was Joel’s turn to look at you blankly.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he whispered with disbelief clear in his voice. “I tried to somehow show you that it’s fine. Do you…” he paused when you slowly started to giggle, which soon turned into a fit of laughter at the tone of his voice. “Do you have any idea how embarrassin’ it was for me at times? And not once–”
He tried to sound accusatory, but your bright smile was too contagious and soon Joel was grinning, too. He covered the bottom part of his face with his hand, trying to regain his composure, and shook his head while muttering under his breath.
Then he felt your hands on both sides of his head again when you leaned forward and, still with that big, gorgeous smile of yours, started peppering his face in kisses. He tried to swat you away but it didn’t take long before he gave in to his fate.
After a couple of seconds of this sweet torture, you pulled back a little, leaving the tingly feeling of your lips all over his face.
“So, just to make sure. I can call you that?” you asked semi-shyly, though there was a mischievous glimmer in your eye, which made Joel smirk lopsidedly.
“Already told you, beautiful,” he murmured in a low voice, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone lovingly. “But nothin’ over-the-top, alright?”
“Alright,” you agreed, just as quietly, and then leaned in to kiss him lightly.
The suffocating coils of embarrassment in his stomach disappeared the moment you touched him. Joel decided that if suffering through those moments of vulnerability would end up with you in his arms and his lips on yours, he was able to survive them.
“Now come to bed, handsome,” you whispered against his mouth with a smile. Your voice had that downright sinful tone to it, which you knew was driving him insane. “I got cold waiting for you all alone.”
Little minx.
He gave you a smirk before crawling on top of you and scooping you in his arms. The sound of your laugh filled the room as he rolled both of you over, pulling you closer and onto his chest.
“Whatever you wish, sweetheart.”
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kakushino · 5 months
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I'm married, Miss
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Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader
Your husband is a changed man when drunk.
Tags: fluff, alcohol consumption, post-Muzan era (so minor KNY spoilers?) Word count: 0,8k
Masterlist
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Giyuu and you had gone on your customary monthly date night - to the lively izakaya you had first met at, introduced to each other by Tengen. It was a place that also served good food, other than the good alcohol, which was a definite bonus, but you were not thinking about any of the details of how or why you became a couple.
How could you, when Giyuu seemed to be deep in his cups and looking cute enough to eat?
A slight flush overtook his face some time ago, making you admire him with a bright smile. Your husband was so handsome, wasn’t he?
He took a small piece of food from the shared plate of assorted meats you shared, still a little clumsy with his left hand. He had an adorable frown marring his brow, his lips set in a pout, before he finally managed to successfully bring the bite to his lips, his expression relaxing as he chewed. 
He truly was a changed man when drunk.
“I love you,” you told him, still staring at him with a wide smile on your face.
Giyuu paused, blinking a few times, as if he’d just noticed you were there. “I’ll have you know I’m married, Miss,” he retorted neutrally, stumbling over his words a bit, the frown from earlier returning.
His answer surprised you. How much had he had to drink? Before you could tell him you were his spouse in question, he started to speak.
“I’m afraid you have no chance against her. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He jabbed his chopsticks in your direction, as his coworker Obanai used to do with his finger, accusatory. “You might be pretty but she’s prettier.”
Laughter bubbled from your throat. “Is she? Tell me more about her, please.” 
Giyuu’s frown was replaced by a completely neutral face, the only indication to his intoxication the blush on his cheeks. He was dead serious about ‘his wife’, it seemed. “She’s amazing,” he said breathily, adoration clear despite his expression. “My pearl, gods, what I wouldn’t give to hold her right now…” He looked down on his hand, still holding the chopsticks as it rested on the table, looking like a sad puppy. “She’s so-” he gestured oddly in the air, snapping his chopsticks as he concentrated, “she’s so comfort-shaped.”
Warmth bloomed in your chest, your smile turning lovesick as you took in your drunk husband. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? He loved you as much as you loved him. 
“She’s my treasure, flashiest treasure - she’s always got this glow, you see?” Giyuu leaned forward as if he were telling you a great secret. “She’s beautiful.” He nodded sagely, agreeing with himself.
You couldn’t help but to ask him a personal question that had weighed on your mind for a time while he was out of it. “Oh, what about her bad traits? Surely, every human has a bad trait? Like, does she snore, or is she annoyin-”
“Absolutely not!” Giyuu looked offended at that. “My wife- my wife and annoying? No, never. Never ever-” he slurred his speech a little, waving his chopsticks threateningly in your face. “And how dare you say she snores! My pearl only ever releases the sweetest sounds known to man, but you-” he pointed at you angrily, “-you are hurting my wife’s honor, and I will fight you for that.” As if to prove a point, he jabbed his utensils into one of the meats on the plate and ate it, glaring daggers at you.
You were pleasantly surprised at the valiant defense of your character; it only made your husband more endearing, and you really, really wanted to continue teasing him - especially knowing he would remember this in the morning - but your bladder felt too full to sit still for much longer.
You excused yourself, which Giyuu ignored, still munching on the food with vigor. You kept giggling under your breath as you went to the lavatory, a sense of light schadenfreude making you grin wide, knowing he would suffer in the morning and regret his choices. Now however, you would enjoy the situation.
When you came back, your husband greeted you warmly, recognizing you at last. “Heyyy, my pearl,” he smiled warmly, leaning forward against the table to be closer to you. “I missed you - so much.” 
“I just had to go to the toilet, dear,” you reminded him with a soft laugh.
His flushed face scrunched up into a pout. “There was someone insulting you while you were gone. I defended you though.” Giyuu sat up straighter, preening a little, waiting for your compliment.
“Thank you, dearest,” you could only grin at that. Oh, you so would enjoy him remembering the night come morning.
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dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear
Network: @enchantedforest-network
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residenthughes · 1 month
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mad at me - jack hughes
pairing: jack hughes x afab reader
word count: 3.5k
tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), creampie, praise, spitting & choking (nothing crazy, i promise!), use of pet names (my girl, sweetheart, baby, princess, sweetheart), slight degradation (if you squint?)
summary: jack's latest game has tensions running high and feelings left unresolved. lucky for him, you know just the solution.
notes: so...this is happening 😭 this is very much inspired by the devils latest game against the kings where jack got pretty heated 😵‍💫 who doesn't love a bit of angry! jack? 🫣 but yes, as i've mentioned before, i don't usually write smut, so this may not be the best so any tips or comments you guys have to share would be much appreciated! 💗this has been partially edited, so if you see any errors along the way, they'll be fixed soon! as always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! much love! <333
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It takes a lot for Jack to get mad.
A sequence of events that all come to a boil, a mountain of incidents that snowball into an avalanche of his wrath. He’s so sweet, like sunny Sunday mornings that smell of fluffy pancakes and honey syrup - so, even now, so far into your relationship, you’re aware that moments like these occur. Of course, emotions wear thin like tired socks and you’re no stranger to your own and Jack’s that have seen all shades of the rainbow, but perhaps there’s something in the air, some electricity that changes the wiring of your brain because tonight is so different from the rest. Dissimilar from when you leave Jack be when his big emotions demand their place, unlike how you wrap each other in blankets of comfort when tensions have eased and everything is whole again. Because, again, this is not about you. It’s about Jack and how, as the universe has written it to be, gravity pulls straight towards him.
Things have been good - he’s come back from injury, back to his kingdom on the ice and the Devils have won back to back games - truly unheard of during their current season, beating their last opponent in regulation for the first time since 2009. It’s a big deal - the smile on Jack’s face says so, the satisfaction of his tone indicating so when he’s come back from his away games. So, you want this happiness to continue, because you love him and the happiness he illuminates but at the end of the day, his job is hockey. A coin toss of wins and losses that you’re trying to wrap your head around because you’re biassed and see all the commitment that him and his teammates put in everyday. As a result of this, Thursday happens; a dice roll of events that spiral into chaos.
You’re back home in Jersey, comfortably situated on the couch in the warmth of an ending winter that shows peaks of an upcoming spring. You’ve got popcorn in your lap because you’ve rediscovered how much you love the savoury snack, happily munching away as Jack’s game starts and the adrenaline kicks in. The first period is eventful with many saves that have you clawing at the couch, but then the second period starts and all hell breaks loose. Tensions run high and as level-headed as Jack is, he is not immune to agitation - subjected to a nasty hit into the boards, the opposing player purposely banging his elbow into Jack’s head. You’re about to start yelling at your TV screen like some drunken sailor because Jack’s been injured this season and doesn’t need more time away from what he loves, but Jack decides to get his lick back and you’re automatically silenced. Your jaw drags the length of the floor as you watch him crosscheck the hell out the guy, proceeding to rough the player up before referees interfere. Jack and the guy are arguing back and forth as they’re escorted into their teams’ penalty boxes and you’re just left bewildered, a mess of emotions with wide eyes as your stomach turns.
You watch astounded as Jack flushes in his temporary plastic home, eyes wide at he hurtles comments that leave the opposing player with a sour taste in his mouth. Jack’s shaking his head when he’s gotten what he needs off his chest, wiping away his sweat as his anger grinds to a simmer. Your eyes are glued to the TV, perched on the edge of your seat as your heart beats hard in your bruising chest. The power play continues on but you’re lost in a trance, awaiting Jack’s emergence from the penalty box that can’t come soon enough. Once he’s out, he’s sprinting for the puck and manages to get a breakaway that assures New Jersey a goal, but the loser in the penalty box with him is hot on his heels and Jack misses. He’s fuming once again, ranting to the referee that pays him no mind. Jack skates off, smashing his stick against the glass before he’s back on the bench and completely snaps it in half, a string of profanities leaving his lips. 
You sit there in awe, your grinding teeth sinking into the flesh of your fingers as your brain becomes an all-consuming pile of filth. Your precious boy, who loves his three hour long naps and looks at you like you hang the stars in the sky, the hopeless romantic who pulls out all the stops for you simply because you deserve it and who holds you as if you’re fine china - he’s almost unrecognisable now, wearing his emotions like the number of his jersey as his expression pinches and his azure eyes narrow. A rush of emotions you both experience that make a home in the chaos of your minds that long leave the remnants of their havoc.
The clatter of Jack’s hockey bag echoes from the doorway, bringing you out of the syrupy daze you’ve been submerged in far too long. You leap off the couch as your body carries you towards the front door, electricity rippling down the ridges of your spine as your skin tingles with the unknown. You keep your emotions at bay for the time being, unsure of what state Jack may be in as you creep around the corner and catch an eyeful of his demeanour - blinding annoyance. An exasperated sigh pushes from his chest as he slips off his trusted beanie, the ruffle of his wet curls bouncing as his fingers card through his hair. You gulp.
“Ro?” you test the waters - short and sweet just to gauge his reaction, anticipation hanging in the air. 
“Hey.” he bites, not bothering with looking your way as he shimmies his coat off with more force than necessary. 
You gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling helpless. “I saw the game…”
“The one I almost got fucking injured in?” he chirps, looking at you now with a pointed stare that burns with all the fire in his heart. No longer azure, his eyes singe with an almost midnight hue. “What a shitshow.”
“That was a dangerous hit, that guy’s got whatever’s coming to him,” you’re quick to reply, taking small steps towards Jack who hangs up his coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that people pay to watch you play.” 
Jack stills in his movements, figure unmoving momentarily before his eyes throw you a lasting glance, the beginnings of a smirk working amongst his roseate features. “So, you heard?”
You blush under the heat of his undivided attention, gaze averted as you fumble with the hem of the hockey jersey on you. “Not necessarily.”
“Then what did you hear, baby?” he queries immediately, shifting so that his body now faces yours, an arm resting against the coat hanger as he sizes you up, unabashed and assertive.
Your stomach flips, the race of your heart undeniable. “You’ve got a mouth on you, so it’s easy to read lips.”
You’re chirping, working under his skin in a way that maintains some form of respect but has all the intentions of riling him up, which manifests into the beast you wish to see. A cocked eyebrow and a ticked jaw, flashes of disbelief flickering on his face. Once more, your emotions bear the weight of an anchor as excitement conjures up the swirl in your stomach, your masquerade crumbling at the seams as your nostrils flare, biting back a shit-eating grin.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he questions with a hint of humour, because he knows you like the back of his hand. You give him no response, preoccupied with suppressing the misplaced giggle that threatens to leave your lips. “I can’t believe this.”
The seams fully come undone, a snicker or two bypassing your lips as you retreat from the situation, ending up with your back against the door leading to the basement with Jack hot on your heels. Mirth bathes you in delight and you let it, a plethora of chuckles falling into your hand as you avert your gaze whilst Jack forgets any concept of personal space. Perhaps you’re deserving of whatever damnation comes your way, a punishment you’ve fully brought upon yourself, but when your senses fill with the waft of Jack’s earthy musk cologne and the remnants of his apple shampoo, accompanied by the warmth of his body that leans towards yours, you can’t bring yourself to feel a shred of regret.
His arm, enveloped by his raven black dress shirt, raises as he cages you in, vulnerable and at his mercy. “What else did I say, since you can read lips and all?”
This is a circus of words, meaning riddled in optical illusions that would have someone think none the wiser. Except this is yours and Jack’s circus, an act tailored for two that entertains your minds that run wild. A wildness you feed off as you meet him with the same decisiveness.
“This number,” you start, pointing towards the digits printed on your sleeve belonging to him. “86 is what people go to see - sorry, pay to see.”
You’re not really sorry, the smirk on your face says otherwise. “I think I said a lot more than that, sweetheart.”
“Besides all the huffing and puffing,” his tongue pokes at his cheek, a playful smirk betraying his flaring emotions. “You asked if he was there to play or to hurt people - fair point to make.”
“And all the others weren’t?” Jack’s moved closer, his thigh situating itself between the gap of your legs. 
You bite your tongue at the friction. “You know the answer to that.”
“Maybe,” his caging arm leaves the door, the web of his hand sat against your chin as he holds your face, maintaining the same fiery gaze that unravels you altogether. “But, it’d be better coming from you.”
“Jack,” he’s flexed his thigh, your hand reaching for the button on his dress shirt as you wane in defeat. “Please.”
“I don’t follow.” 
Your bawled fist meets his stacked chest. “Don’t play dumb.”
Jack chuckles, holding all power in the palm of his hand. “I’m just confused as to why my pants are wet.” 
To prove his point, he draws his thigh away because he’s a selfish bastard and shows you the damp spot you’ve left after his thigh made its way between your legs. The shame that washes over you is unbearable. 
Jack’s cold hands find themselves underneath the material of his jersey, one hand dancing along the outline of your underwear with a finger hanging over the top of the seam. “Oh, what to do with you.”
He’s such a tease, his ego large and in charge as you’ve long forgotten any sense of game at hand as your eyes pool with only an anguish he can extinguish. “Fuck me, please.”
“Why?” his tone light and airy, his finger hooked around the seam of your underwear as the material leaves your skin
You shiver at the breeze, eyes closed as your weak fist manages to grapple onto some material of his shirt. “Because, I need you and I think that goes both ways.”
The band of your underwear snaps against your stomach as Jack retrieves his hand, head cocked to the side as he considers the weight of your words with a locked jaw. Your teeth are sinking into the plumpness of your bottom lip, nothing but pleading in your eyes as you gaze up at him with all you can muster. 
His hand lays against your cheek, thumb automatically caressing the skin - a touch that you not only lean into, but shiver towards. “Get upstairs.”
This is a fairly new playing field for you two -  a game of cat and mouse that brings out an unfamiliar side to you, so foreign in nature that you second guess your desires and where your lust leads you. Jack doesn’t allow for any hesitation though, hand in hand with you as he comes into himself too. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips that lift, a soft smile surfacing amongst his features before you’re headed upstairs in a flash, scurrying towards your bedroom with a trail of your clothes left in your wake.
Jack doesn’t take long to meet you upstairs, his pinstripe blazer removed as he unfastens his tie around his neck. He spares you a lingering glance as you lay sheepishly on the bed perched on your elbows, legs ajar as your folds glisten in the soft bedroom light. Jack quickly rids himself of his clothing, slipping his boxers off to reveal his hard on. A comfortable length with all the girth to fulfil you, tip flushed pink as it brims with precum. It takes everything in you not to sink to your knees and fill your mouth with his cock.
As he approaches the bed, he motions for you to turn around and you do so with no questions asked, back arched as you wait in anticipation as you feel the bed dip with his presence. Jack comes up behind you, body so incredibly close yet somehow so far away as his hands make contact with your burning skin, giving the flesh on your back a brief massage. A surprised hum vibrates in your chest as Jack drags a single finger along the dip of your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he adjusts himself behind you, to which you push your ass back against his hard on.
“Stop teasing.” you sound more desperate than intended, cheek squished into your cool silk pillow.
“Can’t admire my girl before I fuck her?” The nonchalance of his tone draws a mewl out of you, your hips jutting as they search for any more contact. “Besides,”
Hands resting against the mould of your hips, one shifts as you feel his cold index finger draw in between your folds, fingertips swirling around your clit. You moan brokenly, body curling into itself. “You’re just here to take it, aren’t you, princess?”
You’re nodding before your brain can even compute his words, humming along to accentuate your point as his fingertips continue to swirl along the shape of your clit. It’s too much and not enough - a tug of war of sorts that makes your hips rock into Jack, an action that at one point, has his tip catching against your wet entrance. A hiss from behind you sounds as you grapple onto the pillow beside you. 
Jack’s hand leaves you high and dry, but alias, his patiences dissipates into the night sky as he glides into you in one smooth motion, robbing you of your breath and sanity as your mouth gapes open and eyes roll. Sinking into the mattress, your spread legs accommodate for the snap of Jack’s hips as he starts to fuck you from behind, your back curving as you gladly take everything he’s offering. Face mangled into your hoard of pillows, your fingers cling to the duvet for some kind of security, at the mercy of Jack who pleases you in all the way he knows how. 
“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, maybe genuinely because his strength seems somehow restricted, but you’re keening high in your throat at how filthy his words fall from his rosy lips so easily. 
“Harder,” you plead, losing yourself in the pleasure as your one hand shuffles to rub against your neglected clit. “Harder, please.”
And, he obliges, bullying his cock into you as you gasp at the impact. A smack lands against your ass, the supple surface sizzling as your hips retract, Jack’s ironclad grip holding you from escaping any further as his fingers make indents into your skin like notches in a bedpost. 
“Hang on,” his pace slows, breath laboured as you feel him pull out of you reluctantly. “Turn around. I need to see you.”
You squirm against the sheets, easily complying with Jack’s wishes that suit you, your body turning as your sweaty-layered back sticks to the duvet. In the dimmed light of your bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Jack, whose wet curls fall in all the right places and how every outline of his well-built body drives you wild. You catch the shallow rises of his chest and the flush against his cheeks and as he tucks stray strands of hairs behind his ears, his hands find purchase at your thighs and draw you closer. It’s when he looks into your eyes, shameless in the pleasure written all over his face as he pushes into you again that you think you could never get tired of this view. 
Your walls mould to the shape of his cock, sucking him in entirely as you both moan at the feeling. To add fuel to the fire, Jack decides to unfold your legs and hoist them over his shoulders, the new angle burying him even deeper and bringing you closer to the edge. A huff of amusement sounds from Jack as he peers down at your parted lips, wasting no time in fucking you into the mattress as the bed creaks underneath the pressure. His earlier annoyance rears its head in his movements, unsettled irritation laced in the impact of his thrusts, your cunt leaking all around him as he pounds into you relentlessly. So close in proximity, Jack takes the opportunity to caress your cheek, a sweet gesture as your breath hitches, all before his hand slowly drifts down towards your neck. An affirmative nod from you is he needs to tighten his grip, your brewing orgasm intensifying tenfold as he maintains all the eye contact to make you shudder.
He’s balls deep in you, each hard thrust punctuated by the smack of the wooden headboard against the bedroom wall. You feel him all around you like some wicked embrace: in your stomach, your lungs and around your throat, the snug clasp his calloused hand holds against your pressure points lolling your mouth open, gasping at the sheer intensity stewing within you. 
Jack takes the opportunity, wet curls stuck to his forehead, leaning closer as he spits directly into your mouth, as he does onto the ice throughout his games. Something twists violently in you, back arching off the bed as your lips fall close to moan from the deepest parts within you, the taste of Jack on your tongue. 
“Taking me like such a good girl,” he praises, your reflection plentiful in his eyes. “If I’d known you liked this, would have done it a long time ago.”
Everything begins to blur at the edges like an old photograph, bliss engulfing you in its heavenly fire as your skin shimmers with sweat and your nails scrape at Jack’s shoulder - a futile attempt to regain control that had been long lost, your bodies movement forgotten as you squirm and shiver all over. 
Oxygen courses back into your deprived lungs as Jack releases his grip, burning hand against your cheek as his thumb brushes your cheekbone, catching your fluttering eyelashes. “I got you, baby. Got you, princess.”
“Never been fucked,” a whimper escapes when Jack notches that spongy spot that buries your nails into his skin, “like this. Feels-fuck, good.”
He laughs lightly, pace stuttering yet hitting all the right places. “Love giving my pretty girl what she wants,”
You clench around him, embedding your nails into the flesh of his back as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, gaze scattered. “And my pretty girl wants to come, don’t you?”
He poses the rhetorical question with a mean pinch at your clit before pushing a heavy hand down on your lower stomach, the pressure accelerating you towards your fast-approaching orgasm. The sounds pour out of you like a waterfall, eyebrows furrowed as you plead with begging eyes. “Kiss me?”
“Whatever you want, baby.” he breathes, almost whiny as his hand circles around your nape, your figure floating as your lips collide in a messy embrace, rhythm unmatched as your yearning seeps through your teeth. 
Jack captures all your moans in his mouth, the new angle of his thrusts adding to the sloppiness of your wet kiss. The smack of his stuttering hips knocks against your clit in a way that has you seeing beyond, swallowed whole by his galaxy of stars as he gives you one last jerky thrust, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to undo you. Frayed at the seams, you come undone, unravelling in a mess that perfectly matches Jack as he quickly comes after you, coating your walls as your cunt spasms all around him as he rides out his high. 
Once Jack’s shallow thrusts grind to a halt, he slowly pulls out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with you as he runs a finger down your sensitive cunt just to get a shiver out of you. Your eyebrows knit, a flare of annoyance mixed in with fatigue written across your face that draws a humoured snicker from your boyfriend. He collapses down next to you, a kiss pressed against your cheek before you both aimlessly stare up at the ceiling. 
Amusement tugs at the corners of your lips. “You should get angry more often.” 
“I was just about to say the same thing.” agrees Jack, laughter making its home between you two as nothing but sweetness lingers in the air.
“Come on,” he urges, his hand nudging yours, body prying itself off your bed as he goes to stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 
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highvern · 2 months
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Patterns: Teaser
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader
Genre: smut, 21+
Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?
Warnings: fuckboy wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, multiple sex positions, strength kink, exhibitionism, fingering, handjob, sleepy sex, jealousy, others TBD
Length: TBD
Note: this is a repost of my one shot! It’ll be a multipart series! the fic rn is about half way done and stands at 21k w/o revisions so anticipate it being closer to 40k and it’ll be divided into at least 3 parts or more
Leave a comment or send an ask to be added to the tag list! YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE INDICATOR ON YOUR BLOG TO BE TAGGED!
Read more on March 5th!
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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
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Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 
This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning in each other’s touch.
It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.
You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care who saw; a challenging gleam in your glossy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back and the rest is history.
After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 
Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to cornered you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specific but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 
Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. Your hands wandered across his chest, cataloging the plains hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. Or your lips brushed against his neck, tongue and teeth following the trail of goosebumps. And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips leaving very little to the imagination. Or when he spun you around, forcing you to look him in the eye as he pawed at the soft flesh of your ass, using his hands to drag you across his thigh between your legs.
But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was.
Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.
“Come home with me.” He whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.
The air in your chest grows thick. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.
Unable to turn in his grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. 
“Come home with me.” Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. 
It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.
If he wants to play, you’ll play too.
“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 
Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.
God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.
“Not convincing enough.” You chide.
The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, the scorch of Wonwoo’s palm against the zipper burns. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same; shoulders caving as you clench around nothing. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 
Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 
You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.
This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game. 
He wants you.
You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @lonebookshelf
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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svgvrvs · 8 months
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1:57 a.m. -> 11:23 a.m.
satoru gojo x afab!fem!reader | word count: ≈2k
tags/cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw, fluff, taking care of satoru, satoru is cranky when he's tired, consensual somnophilia, cunnilingus, morning sex, creampie, pet names (princess, baby), reader is briefly described as having a tummy + big boobs, written exclusively during the hours of 2-7 a.m., not proofread
a/n: this was supposed to be a short sfw fluff drabble but i just kept going
satoru comes home late and takes care of you in the morning...
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on any other night, satoru would mildly chide you for staying up to wait for him to come home. his work was demanding, making this a common occurence; the last thing he wanted was for you to lose sleep on his account.
but tonight, he's more than grateful to see you still wide awake, watching something on the large flatscreen in your shared living room. he sets his keys down in their designated place on the table by the door, before removing his shoes and setting them on the rack to the other side.
by this point, you've already risen from your cocoon of blankets on the couch to cross the room and greet him. the first thing you notice is that his blindfold is missing. the second, is that his whole demeanor seems absolutely exhausted.
"hey, welcome home."
you cup his face in your palms and look into his eyes. they appear bright as ever, though the expression in them is a bit dull with tiredness and overstimulation. his expression turns softer when he looks at you, seeming relieved to be in your presence again, if the way he leans into your touch is any indication.
"what happened?"
"lost my blindfold."
"oh no. any idea where?"
"no, that's what I meant by 'i lost it'."
you drop your hands. "okay, jeez. sorry."
he catches your wrist before you can turn away. "no, no, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to snap at you."
you sigh. "it's okay. let's clean up 'n go to bed, yeah?"
he nods softly, and the even that minimal motion makes his head throb. he allows you to lead him through your shared bedroom to the large bathroom. satoru can hardly stand to keep his eyes open, so you take over the process of bathing before bed. you run the shower, not too cold and not too hot, help him wash up and then towel off. you leave the lights off the whole time, having only the soft rays of the full moon through the windows to illuminate the rooms, another thing satoru is grateful for.
neither of you bother to put on any clothes before slipping between the soft sheets. you lay on your back, and just as you expected he would, satoru lays on his stomach, almost fully on top of you, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. you tangle one hand in his hair to give him gentle scratches on his scalp, and rub his back with the other.
"i love you," he mumbles against your skin.
"i love you too," you tell him as you press a kiss to the top of his head.
satoru is the first to wake up, just over nine hours later. when he opens his cobalt eyes, he finds himself still wrapped in your arms, with his head rested on your bare pillowy chest. he absently recalls that he has the day off as he lifts himself up to take in your slumbering form. your steady breathing, your smooth lips, your plump breasts, and soft belly. the last three of those he can't help but feel for himself.
the vague memory of snapping at you (along with the sheer desire to have you again after being away for three whole days) makes the decision for him. satoru will make sure you have a very pleasant awakening to make up for it. he'll find some way to thank you for taking care of him as well, but that can wait until later.
he starts by trailing his large hands up your sides until his palms reach your breasts. he cups them and gives each of the fleshly mounds a squeeze, and each peak of your nipples a swipe of his thumb. as much as he wants to pace himself, use only his hands a little longer, his demanding oral fixation must be satisfied. he leans down to envelop your nipple with his mouth, alternating between laving his tongue over the peak and sucking on it. satoru can't help but leave a few marks as he goes.
he moves upward to plant a chaste kiss on your full lips, followed by trails of pecks down your chest and abdomen, and your inner thighs. he shifts to lay comfortably on his stomach between your legs.
"fuck, princess," satoru whispers, looking up from your cunt to see you still sleeping. "you really have the prettiest pussy."
returning his gaze back down to your slit, he wraps his arms around your spread thighs to secure his grip on them, anticipating that you'll instinctively close them around his head, not that he particularly minds that thought.
satoru plants one final kiss to the little pearl near the top of your slit before he decides it's time for the real fun to begin. he starts relatively slow, with a few long licks along your folds, from just above your perineum to the top of the hood of your clit. he then focuses his touch on your clit, leisurely sucking on it. he's in no hurry to make you cum, rather he just wants to make you all wet for him; he wants more of your taste on his tongue, wants to consume your slick like it's life-giving water.
the attention he gives to your nub works like a charm. satoru laps up your fluids eagerly, savoring the tangy flavor on his tongue. he still wants more, and he wants your attention now too. he's glad you're beginning to stir from sleep, and he hopes to expedite your awakening by putting his mouth back on your clit. he takes it a step further this time, pressing his thumb upwards at the crest of your slit to lift the hood and expose your most sensitive part to his tongue with no barriers between them.
he still keeps the slow pace, though the sensation is still intense enough to rouse you from sleep. he feels you shift, and watches your eyes flutter open. eventually you make eye contact with one another, while satoru's mouth remains hard at work pleasuring you.
"fuck," you exhale. "g'morning, toru."
only then does he finally lift his head to answer. "'morning, princess. gonna let me make you cum?"
"yes, please," you answer softly.
satoru wastes no time in continuing. within a split second, you feel him lift the hood of your clit once again and repeatedly swipe his tongue over your nub with a fervent and well-practiced speed. the way he eats you out is relentless. he's committed to drawing an orgasm from you, determined to hear those sweet moans of pleasure and desperate cries of his name pouring from your lips.
the way he stimulates your sweet spot is steady and unabating, and within only a few minutes, satoru has you chanting his name over and over, interspersed with various curses. you're gasping for air that only gets caught in your throat again and again with every swipe of satoru's tongue over your uncovered nub. he relishes in the feeling of benign pain from your hands tugging harshly at the roots of his snowy hair combined with the minimal friction he can manage to get himself as he ruts against the mattress. the way you're absentmindedly trying to crush his head with your pillowy thighs, the pleasant tangy sweetness of your pussy, and every sound you make only strengthens his resolve to bring you into ecstasy.
the pleasure you feel builds on itself, growing and intensifying until finally, you're thrown off the edge into the depths of rapture, final cry of your lover's name on your lips. satoru continues to work you through your orgasm, keeping the fast rhythm through the duration of your climax and gradually slowing his pace toward the end to gently let you down from your high.
coming back to your senses, you lose the firm grip you had on satoru's hair and instead gently card your fingers through it. he looks up at you from between your legs. you observe a certain feverishness in his passionate gaze, while he notes the post-orgasmic haze in yours. he crawls forward toward your head to press his lips firmly, fiercely against yours. entry to your mouth is freely given to him, as is entry to your core as you bring your legs up to wrap tightly around his waist.
satoru gives a low moan, exhaled into your ear when he finally sinks into you. your hole is ready and welcoming to his cock, the wetness between your thighs allowing him to push in with ease. when his pelvis connects with your hips, so too does his tip hit your cervix, making you gasp from the potent sensation.
god, does he just stretch you and fill you up so perfectly. you can feel every inch of him, and every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against your walls. he assaults your neck with little bites and wet, open-mouthed kisses, intending to leave his mark on you (preferably several of them, actually). satoru pulls out to just his tip before slowly impaling you with his cock again, down to the hilt. he wants to draw this out, just bask in this feeling of warmth. the sunlight on his back, your body heat, every time you whisper his name with an amount of love only you could lace it with. all of it warms him to his core. he desperately wishes this moment could last forever, that you can just stay like this with no obligations to interrupt you. and so he keeps that slow but passionate pace, knowing the longer he can make this last, the longer he can keep you to himself.
but the way you look, the way you sound, the way you feel so fucking tight around his cock, the way you desperately cling to him like he's the only thing stopping you from a long fall, and how you capture his lips with such hunger that one might think you need him like air to breathe makes it very hard for him not to bust a nut right then and there. but his resolve holds strong, he will make you cum again before he allows himself release.
“gonna cum soon, yeah, baby?”
you try to answer him verbally, and you give it your best shot, but alas, the words on your tongue come out as jumbled pornographic exclamations. still, you manage to nod in reply.
“so pretty all fucked out.” he smiles triumphantly at your state.
satoru has you swimming in pleasure, in him. he hits just the right spot inside you over and over, and before you know it, your back is arched and you cry out his name, plunged head-first into the depths of mind-bending ecstasy. you cum hard, and the walls of your cunt spasm, locking tight around your boyfriend’s sensitive cock, and nearly finishing him off right then and there.
“yeah, that’s my girl,” satoru praises you as you start to come down. “oh, fuckfuckfuck, so tight, princess, can’t—fuck-!” he just barely manages to stave off his orgasm long enough to fuck you through yours before the tightness of your cunt makes him burst. he thrusts erratically, involuntarily, as he reaches his peak, and finally he shoves his cock deep inside you one last time to empty his load within you.
he collapses on top of you then, returning to his earlier position with his head tucked into the crook of your neck. he leaves a few loving, doting pecks across your clavicle, and he doesn’t bother to pull out because why would he?
“thank you,” he mumbled against your skin.
“for what?” you ask.
“taking care of me last night. and i’m sorry i snapped at you.”
“aw, toru,” you kiss his forehead, “it’s forgotten.”
you exchange tender utterances of “i love you” before your tired eyes fall closed again, satoru’s following suit despite the bright rays of sun coming through the window. you hear him sigh contentedly as you rub gentle patterns on his naked back, coaxing him back into slumber while you keep him warm inside you.
you think you could stay like this forever.
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intoanotherworld23 · 2 months
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Forbidden Fruit
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Summary: Working for the Millers as their children’s babysitter has been the best job you’ve had, but the only problem is your massive crush on Joel.
Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller
Word Count: 2.3k+ words
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Warnings: nothing major just some kissing, making out, sexual tension, cheating, infidelity, thoughts of sex, mention of female masturbation, age gap
A/N: Let me know what you guys think so far comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you wish to be tagged for this please let me know and I’ll be sure to add you! Thanks so much everyone! XOXO
Hall Of Hunks
〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️
It was wrong. All of it. Every single second. Every single thought. Always bowing your head in shame every time you so much as even pictured him shirtless.
Feeling your eyes tearing up in embarrassment as you felt more pathetic each time you touched yourself to the thought of him touching you or kissing you. Your feelings were never meant to become this strong. It was only a crush.
Obsessing over him more every time you looked at him. Suddenly feeling shy as soon as he entered into the room. Every smile or kind word thrown your way you were head over heels. Silently praying to yourself that maybe those words would turn into something more one day.
Wondering to their bedroom laying on his side so you could smell his scent on the pillow. Inhaling his musky and sandalwood cologne that lingered in the fabrics. Picturing what it would be like to wake up beside him every morning. Imaging him kissing all over your face and pulling your body closer to his.
He was married for crying out loud, and you babysat his kids. Plus he was older than you and was all together out of your league. It was just a temporary crush, and one day you'd forget about him and never seen this man ever again in your life. Chances are he doesn't even give you second glances each time you show up, and early might you add.
His wife surely was suspicious by now or could at least tell how just in love with this man you were. She was gorgeous and probably had men falling to their knees over her. She had to know all about what it was like to crush hard over someone, and could see the obvious signs.
If she did know she hasn't said anything or even hinted that she knew. Instead she gave you warm smiles and plain compliments.
Their kids loved you or couldn't wait for the days you would come over. Constantly bugging them to have you over just so they could play with you. In fact his wife felt at times envious over her own kids adoring you. You knew what she was thinking, but never once did she ever show it on her face. She hid it behind a polite smile.
You paid more attention to her kids than she ever did. In fact one night they confessed they wished you were their mom instead of her. At first it warmed your heart at the thought of being the mother of his kids.
Then just as quickly you pushed that thought down, and told them never to say that ever again. In fear of what the mother would say.
Scrolling through your phone as the seconds ticked by. Having already put the kids to bed now you just waited for the happy couple to show up so you could leave and head back to your pathetic excuse of an apartment.
Hearing the roar of an engine outside the house indicating they were back, and a little early too. Usually they were out well past midnight, and it wasn't even ten yet. This was really odd, and you scrunched your face in confusion. Gathering your things slowly as you possibly could not ready to leave yet.
Standing up only to hear the door open aggressively, and a red faced Joel walk through the door. Judging by the silence and rigid body language something happened tonight.
He loosened his day like he had a long day at the office. His wife not far behind him as he pushed past him neither one of them looking at you or each other.
Watching as she practically sprinted upstairs with her makeup smeared down her cheeks, and heading towards the kids room. Something clearly happened and you didn't want to press especially since it really wasn't your business.
"Hi you guys are home early."
"My whore of a wife is taking the kids to her parents house for a couple nights."
That certainly wasn't the sort of response you expected from him as you stood there in place unsure of what to say. His words being said loud enough in the hopes she heard. Watching as he slammed the door shut grumbling to the kitchen pouring himself a glass of scotch downing it in one shot.
As much as you wanted to run over to him and comfort him it wasn't your place. Rocking back and forth on your heels feeling awkward at what you should say or do at this point.
Hearing shuffling upstairs as drawers were being opened and closed. The kids were crying out breaking your heart at the sound.
"Mr. Miller? Is everything all right?"
Before he could respond his wife descended down the stairs with a couple bags and her kids trucking behind her.
"Say good night to your daddy kids."
Watching as they ran right into his arms hugging them tightly like it was the last time he might ever see them.
Unable to hear what he was saying to them as he kissed them on the cheeks, and patted their heads in comfort hating to seek them like this. He wanted them to stay with him instead, but right now he really wanted to be alone, and he didn't want to accidentally take his anger out on them.
"I love you both so much."
Was the last thing he could say to them before she grabbed them and shoved them out the door. You hadn't moved from your spot the whole time. You don't even think you blinked once since they first came through the door.
This is the last thing you expected to happen when they came home. In fact this was probably the last time you'd have to babysit for them. Which means you'd probably never see Joel again.
It was selfish of you to think like that especially since something very serious happened between the couple.
"I'm sorry." He whispered as he turned to face you this time.
"It's okay Mr. Miller."
"No it's not okay. None of this is okay." His fingers combing back his hair all in distress.
"Mr. Miller this is really none of my business."
"Please stay for just a few minutes."
"Okay." Hesitating on your answer unsure if you should involve yourself in what clearly was a personal matter.
"The whole night was going so perfectly. We were having a good time and things couldn't have been going better."
Walking over to you then shuffling his feet to the couch throwing himself down his shoulders shrugged down. A look of disbelief across his face, and he tried to find the right words to say or explain what happened.
"Then she told me that she was having an affair with a man she worked with. That she was happier with him than she was with me."
You could tell he was heart broken over the whole thing. Feeling like his whole world was crashing down around him. All he wanted to do was just cry, and drink until he was numb. Just wanting to feel something other than heartbreak and pain.
Staring deep into your eyes not realizing how beautiful you actually were. Baffled that he never took notice of you before.
How soft your skin looked, and how luscious your lips were shaped. Everything about you looked perfect, and suddenly his spirits were feeling lighter.
Watching his eyes drifting from your lips to between your eyes. Something was happening between you two, but you didn't exactly know what was going on.
It was like Joel was contemplating what he wanted to do. Trying to decided if you'd indulge him or smack him across the face, and never speak to him again.
"Mr. Miller?"
"Call me Joel." He whispered as he started to lean forward.
"Please don't hit me for doing this."
Wasting no time in pressing his lips against yours. Once he felt you start to relax he moved his lips against yours. Turning his head to the side as a hand came up and caressed the side of your face.
Feeling your lips tingle as you cocked your head towards the opposite side. Your entire body felt like it was floating in the air. From Joel's lips pressed against to his hands touching your face. Both of you knew it was wrong, but neither one of you cared.
Either one of you cared about was each other. It had been too long since you or him felt like this. Something that both of you missed, and needed in your life.
It was like a heat wave rushed across your body, and you could feel this immense pressure between your legs. No doubt there would be a wet spot there. Joel would discover it soon enough.
His body pushing you back so your head was resting on the arm rest, and you moved both of your legs onto the couch. Joel hovering above you as he kept his lips on yours.
Making out with him on the couch his hands moved down to your hips. Grinding his body down on top of yours feeling his erection poking between your legs. His pants were incredibly tight, and he wanted to get out of his clothes soon as possible.
"Is this okay?" Hands gripping the top of your pants ready to pull them down.
"Absolutely."
Smirking as he quickly pulled them down your legs dropping them to the floor. Licking his lips when he took notice of the lace panties you were wearing.
"You sure you want this?" Nodding your head eagerly as you grabbed his face and gave him a hard kiss.
"Please I want this."
"God you drive me crazy baby."
Hands reaching up so Joel could lift your shirt over your head. Laying there in nothing but your matching bra and panties. You were like a gift wrapped in a bow under his gaze. He couldn't wait to open you up.
Your hands covering yourself up feeling self conscious under his hungry gaze. It was like you were under a bright light being watched. Joel shaking his head at what you were doing.
"Don't cover yourself up sweetheart." Moving your hands out of the way. "You're so gorgeous."
His hands were warm against your skin. His touch was like a magnetic pull, and you couldn't help but be tugged in. It was a long time coming of frustration and tension. Both of you needed this more than you realized.
Before anything else could happen his phone went off making both of you jump. Leaning his head forward onto your chest with a loud groan. Sighing heavily at what would have happened if the phone didn't go off.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
Snarling as he got up and walked over to where his laid his phone down. Leaning up as you watched him answer the phone his tone clearly not happy.
"What?"
There was some muffled voice on the other end of the phone. Rubbing his hand down his face in frustration. This was the last thing that he needed to deal with.
Hearing him start to argue with whoever was on the other end. If only this person knew what they had just interrupted. He might not have answered it, but it could have been an important call.
"Can't you get someone else to come in?"
Joel was a very well known doctor, and was brilliant and good at what he did. People from different parts of the world came to see him. His hours could range at any time even in the middle of the night.
"Jesus christ I'll come in." Ending the call as he set his phone down.
There were tears pricking in the corner of yours eyes. The sexual frustration was almost at an unbearable level. You were like a pot of water that was about to boil over, and any moment you would blow.
"Hospital?"
"Yeah." Bowing his head as he shuffled his feet over to you. "I'm so sorry."
"No it's okay I've gotta get back home anyway."
Feeling incredibly awkward and uncomfortable as you sat there half naked. Joel was ashamed if he would glance at your body again. Trying to find something else to look at. The reality of what you two almost just did hitting him.
"Look," standing in front of you now when you were completely dressed,"what just happened can’t happen again."
"I know."
"Not that I didn't want to cause believe me I want to so bad." Hands softly grabbing your arms as he looked deep into your eyes.
"It's just that-."
"The wife." Interrupting him already knowing what he was going to say.
Maybe he was using her as an excuse to not sleep with you. Not wanting to give into his carnal desires that were clawing at the cage. It was confusing for both of you neither one of you had done this before.
He thought about just jerking himself off until the feeling washed away. Hoping that maybe the lust would go away, and that this wouldn't happen again.
"Am I fired?" Blurting out before you could stop yourself.
"Probably not." Shrugging his shoulders as he responded. "Depends on the wife, well soon to be ex wife."
Which was true cause if you knew any better, she would try to fight for full custody. Since he was working all the time, and wouldn't have that much time with the kids. His kids were his life, and he couldn't lose them.
"Well I'm always available if you need me."
"I know thank you Y/N."
Grabbing your hands in his as he smiled warmly at you. Deep down he was hoping that he didn't make you so he could keep seeing you, and maybe continue what you two were doing. He wanted it so much more than what you realized.
Dropping his hands from yours as you grabbed your things, and took a quick note of the time. It was getting really late, and right now you needed to lay down and clear your head.
"Good night Mr. Miller."
"Joel." Giving you that friendly reminder as you just smiled at him.
"Joel." Repeating his name like liquid honey dripping from your mouth.
"Good night."
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tongue-like-a-razor · 11 months
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Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader
Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.
CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's goofy af you've been warned
WC: 1800+
A/N: I don't know, you guys, I just couldn't get this scene out of my head hahah
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Your back is turned when the two men enter the office, so you don’t notice right away that one of them is practically shoving the other inside. You hear the grumbling though.
“I’m fine,” and “Let go,” and “This is a waste of time.”
You glance over your shoulder as one of the nurses places a clipboard outside an exam room and gestures for the men to wait inside. It’s a slow day at the clinic so, after finishing up the notes from your previous appointment, you head over to check the chart before walking in to greet your next patient.
The two men look up when you enter. The younger one is sitting in a chair and the older one has a firm hand on his shoulder as if he’s forcefully trying to keep him there.
“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Y/L/N,” you say, placing the clipboard on the table as the two men say hello. “What seems to be the problem?”
“He hit his head,” the man who’s standing says.
“I’m fine,” the other assures you.
“Hard,” the first man points out.
The seated man rolls his eyes. “He’s overreacting.”
You narrow your eyes slightly and approach them. “What’s your name?” you ask the man with the apparent head injury, crouching down so that you can look at his face up close.
“Don’t you have my chart?” he asks. He's wearing a cheeky grin and you can tell that he's flirting.
“It’s Bradshaw,” the standing man says. “His name. And I’m Captain Mitchell.”
You glance up at the older man. “If you could refrain from answering for the patient, please, Captain,” you say, slightly annoyed.
“Right,” he nods. “I apologize.”
The seated man raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a first.”
You move to grab a chair and position yourself in front of him. “Full name and rank?”
“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. What’s yours?” the man asks with a bit of a smirk.
You tap on the name tag hanging off your lab coat coolly. You’re not unaccustomed to receiving this kind of attention, however it doesn’t happen too often at work. “What’s the date today, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you ask casually, reaching for your clipboard.
“You don’t have a calendar, Doctor?” Bradley asks.
You glance up at him pointedly. “Are you always this cooperative?”
“This is the kind of shit I have to put up with on a daily basis, Doctor,” Captain Mitchell mutters.
“Well, that’s good news,” you say, smiling up at the man. When he furrows his eyebrows, you clarify, “No noticeable change in personality.”
Captain Mitchell grins wryly. “What a relief.”
Bradley snorts and starts to get up. “We’re done, then?” he asks.
“Not quite,” you say, indicating for him to sit back down.
Bradley sighs wearily but resumes his seated position across from you. He places his hands in his lap and lifts his eyes to meet your gaze with a skeptical expression.
“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” you ask.
“No,” he responds, keeping his eyes locked on yours.
You glance down at the clipboard in your hand, slightly unnerved that he’s so boldly watching you. “Headache or nausea?” you ask without looking back up.
“Nope,” he responds.
“Can you count backwards from 100 by seven?”
“Are you serious?” he asks.
You glance up at him sharply. “Would you like to conduct the examination, Lieutenant?”
He sighs and starts counting.
You stop him after several correct numbers and ask, “What is your profession?”
There’s a brief pause during which Bradley lets his head dip to the side to study the contours of your face. You glance up at him expectantly and he looks into your eyes again. “I’m an aviator,” he says nonchalantly, although you notice his chest puff up with pride. As if you don’t regularly meet pilots working at the health clinic on base.
You look down at your clipboard as though you’re reading the questions off the page but, really, you’re just avoiding his gaze because his eyes have a we’re-gonna-fuck look about them and you’re almost starting to fall for it. “Any previous head injuries?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he responds, and you notice the sexy rasp in his voice despite trying very hard to ignore it.
“He crashed his bike into a tree when he was five,” Captain Mitchell chimes in.
Both you and Bradley look up at him with some amusement, having nearly forgotten he was there. You blink at the captain pointedly before returning your attention to the chart in your lap. “I hope he’s better at maneuvering these days,” you comment.
Bradley starts laughing which makes you look up at him in surprise. Captain Mitchell is also chuckling mildly. “He has his moments,” he says.
 You give them a tight smile and rise from your seat, setting your clipboard down. Bradley stands too, towering over you because he’s still so close. You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your chair, and both Bradley and the captain grab your arms to keep you from falling.
“You alright?” Bradley asks.
You nod, straightening out your lab coat and pointing to his chair. “Sit, please,” you say, not meeting his gaze.
“You got it, Doc,” he says, sitting back down. Captain Mitchell smirks in amusement.
“Tell me what happened,” you say, approaching your patient confidently to perform a physical exam.
Both he and the captain start recounting two vastly different versions of the same event while you check Bradley’s vital signs. Once they’ve finished speaking and you’ve located the swelling on Bradley’s head, you glance between the two of them skeptically. Then you pull a penlight out of your lab coat and say, “Follow the light.”
You watch Bradley’s pupils constrict in response to the light but, when you move the penlight to one side, his eyes remain fixed on yours.
“The light, Lieutenant,” you remind him.
Bradley shifts his gaze to the right as instructed, but every time the movement of your penlight crosses the midpoint, he lets his eyes linger on yours for a split second. You flick off the light and observe as Bradley’s pupils return to normal size. His mouth quirks upward slightly but he never breaks eye contact.
“Good,” you say, dropping the penlight back into your pocket. “Now you can stand.”
Bradley gets out of his seat while Captain Mitchell watches on cautiously, as though he expects him to fall over. When the captain steps closer, Bradley holds out his hand.
“I’m fine, dad.” Bradley’s sarcastic tone indicates that the captain is, in fact, not his father, but his companion’s affectionate expression in response probably puts him in the category of loveable uncle who has frequently – albeit unsolicitedly – stepped into the role. Bradley straightens his back and looks over at you calmly, awaiting your instructions.
“Stand on one foot for me,” you say.
Bradley smirks. “Anything for you, Doc,” he says, bending his left leg upwards.
Captain Mitchell lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head, while you attempt to not roll your eyes. “You can put your foot down, Lieutenant,” you say crossly.
“You want me to put my foot down, Doc?” he responds suggestively.
“Rooster!” the captain warns.
“I’m kidding!” Bradley chuckles. “She knows.” He extends an arm out to point at you. “You know, right?” he verifies, glancing over at you.
“I apologise.” Captain Mitchell shakes his head again.
“That’s the second time,” Bradley notes.
You raise your eyebrows at the two of them. “Well,” you say. “That’s another good sign.”
“What?” they both ask.
“His sense of humor is intact,” you say.
Bradley grins at you. “You think I’m funny?”
The captain closes his eyes.
You fight to keep a straight face. “As long as you think you’re funny, Lieutenant.”
“Do you recommend treatment, Doctor?” Captain Mitchell asks.
You look at him with a small grin. “For the humor?”
Bradley snorts but the captain considers your question. “Might come in handy,” he says.
Bradley lets out a sarcastic, “Ha-ha.”
“No,” you say. “He’s fine.”
“Told you,” Bradley mutters to the captain.
“But,” you say, “if you start experiencing any of these symptoms” – you hand him a brochure on concussions – “come back in and we can do a more comprehensive assessment.”
Bradley takes the brochure from your hand. “I’ll do that,” he says with a nod.
As you’re heading back to your office, you notice Bradley eyeing you from the front desk. He mutters something to Captain Mitchell, in response to which the latter glances in your direction before looking back at Bradley pointedly. Then, he gives him a couple of claps on the shoulder and heads out the door.
Having arrived at the door to your office, you don’t linger to find out what Bradley is up to. But, just as you’re about to sit down at your desk, Bradley’s head peeks in through the partially open door. He drums on the doorframe with his knuckle despite already having gotten your attention.
“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, walking back around your desk toward him.
Bradley grins sheepishly. “May I come in?” he asks.
Truthfully, you’re surprised he’s not already inside. You gesture for him to enter.
“I uh,” he starts, hesitating when you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing. “For being an idiot.”
You raise your eyebrows but give him a warm smile. “We can blame the head injury.”
Bradley nods slowly. “Let’s,” he says. “Although, I’m afraid it’s permanent.”
You chuckle. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”
He cringes slightly but it quickly turns into a grin. He takes a deep breath, holding your gaze. “I like you,” he says bluntly.
You’re slightly taken aback by his directness, so you simply stare at him for a moment.
 “I hope that’s okay,” he adds when you don’t say anything.
“Uh, sure,” you respond awkwardly, panicking slightly because he’s so tall and broad-shouldered and charming.
“I sort of want to take you out,” he says, taking a step forward.
You sort of wonder how often he pulls this kind of thing. You’re nothing if not a veteran skeptic. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Bradley watches you with a knowing smirk. “But do you want to?” he asks.
You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Bradley sticks his hands into his pockets, his eyes sweeping you up and down. “It matters to me,” he says.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I can’t go out with a patient” –
“I’m not your patient anymore,” he says, the low rasp of his voice even more persuasive than his words.
“You’re a patient of this clinic,” you say.
“I can find another clinic,” he responds.
You lower your gaze, pursing your lips to keep from smiling too widely. “I work long hours, Lieutenant. I don’t exactly have much time to socialize.”
When you glance back up at him, Bradley flashes you a dazzling grin that demonstrates how fantastically unconvinced he is that your busy schedule is truly a reason for concern. “I haven't heard a no, Doctor,” he points out.
“You haven't heard a yes.”
Bradley chuckles. “That’s fine,” he says, taking several steps back toward the door. “I’m not in a hurry.” And with these words, he walks out of your office.
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🎁🎄Christmas Elf - Lando Norris
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<word count - 2512>
You'd been at McLaren for two weeks, so that meant unfortunately (or not so much) that you were unable to participate in secret santa with them this year. Everyone had gathered in the break room, leaving you at your desk to carry on working. 
You didn't really mind, since it would have been hard for you or whoever got you if you had taken part. As you stared at you screen, you mindlessly fiddled with the charms on your bracelet. No one else was working, so you didn't feel bad that you weren't. 
It would've been nice to celebrate some of the Christmas cheer, but it was fine. "Hey Y/N?" someone called. You looked up, seeing your boss stood in the doorway. "Yeah?"
"Someone left this under the tree for you," he smiled, bringing the small bag and setting it down on your desk. "But my name wasn't pulled?" 
"I know, but someone was feeling the Christmas spirit," he lightly chuckled, disappearing back into the break room. You looked at it for a moment, pulling it closer to you so that you could peer inside. All you could see was a small white box, and you were curious, to say the least. 
Reading the tag attached, it only made you more curious. 'Dear Y/N, I know you weren't included in secret santa this year, but I figured you deserved a gift as well. I saw this, and thought it would fit perfectly with your collection. Merry Christmas, X'
Reaching your hand in, you pulled the box out and placed it in front of you, trying to figure out what it was before you opened it. You gave in pretty quickly, lifting the lid of the box. You couldn't help but smile as you saw the tiny race car charm for your bracelet. 
You failed to notice the pair of eyes watching you as you grinned, holding it between your fingers. It was absolutely lovely, even the tiniest details were perfectly etched onto it. It was like a like-for-like replica of the cars that were in the show room downstairs, and you loved it. 
You quickly clipped it to your bracelet, and it was instantly one of your favourites that you had. As the whole day went by, you found your eyes wandering down to the charm on your wrist, and you couldn't help but smile at it every time. 
You wanted to know who to thank for the overwhelmingly thoughtful gift, since no one had signed off the card, or left any indication as to who they were. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to figure it out, since someone was bound to have seen the gift be put under the tree. 
Throughout the day, you were still being watched by the person, and he felt that the look on your face was absolutely priceless. His note was just a little white lie, as well. Yes, he had wanted you to be included in secret santa, but that was simply a front. 
He would have gotten the charm for you regardless, but the gift giving in the office provided the perfect way for him to secretly gift it to you. He had been brainstorming the present ever since you stepped foot in the office, and it was not something that was on the every day market. He had to use some connections, but the smile of pure joy on your face was worth it. 
Meanwhile, you had been asking around the office, seeing if anyone had seen the gift when they put theirs down. It took a while, but you eventually located the first person who had put their present down. "Hey Jim, are you free for a minute?" you asked, approaching Jim in the breakroom. 
"Sure Y/N, what's up?" he replied, turning to face you. 
"Were you the first person to put down your secret santa gift?"
"No, there was already one under the tree. They must've been in early," he told you.
"Did it happen to look like this?" you asked, placing the bag that your charm was in down on the table in front of him. "Yeah, that was the only thing under the tree when I went,"
"Did you see anyone else around? Do you know who else was there?" you pressed, desperate to know who had bought you the present. "Sorry, I didn't see anyone else. The first person that I saw was Lando, but that was just after one of the meetings downstairs." Jim explained. 
"But there weren't any meetings today, well, none that Lando had to be in," you eyed him skeptically. "That was just what he said,"
"OK, thanks Jim. Merry Christmas," you smiled as you walked away. Why would Lando lie? He must've had his reasons, but you couldn't think of any point in it. He was Lando Norris, if he wanted to be here, then he was allowed to be. 
He was the star of the show in this place, he didn't need a reason to hang around, he just could. Anyway, your search that had lead to Jim had proven fruitless, so you headed back to your desk after your lunch break had been spent on a wild goose chase. 
After finally engrossing yourself in your work, you noticed someone stood in front of your desk. "Hey Lando," you said, without even looking up from your computer. He had probably just come to ask if you could cancel his meetings for tomorrow or something. 
"Hey Y/N, how are you doing?" he smiled, leaning over your desk with his arms propping him up. You found the grin on his face slightly suspicious, but Lando always had a hidden agenda. He was always up to something. 
"Not bad thanks, you?"
"Yeah, I'm good, I'm good." you replied, bring your hand to your face to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  "Nice bracelet. I like the car, very apt," he said, grabbing your hand to inspect your wrist. His hands were warm, his fingertips gentle on the skin of your wrist.
"Oh yeah, it's really pretty, isn't it? I'm trying to figure out who gave it to me, you have any ideas?" you asked, failing to see the glint of mischief in his eye. You were completely oblivious, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. 
"No, sorry, not a clue. But I'm sure they'll reveal themselves at some point. See you later, good luck on your quest," he grinned, pushing himself away from the desk and walking away from you. 
"Bye Lando," you replied, and he was gone as quickly as he had gotten to you. You found the nature of his visit slightly odd, but you didn't think anything of it. 
The rest of your day was spent without knowing a single thing about the mystery sweetheart who had given you your gift, and you desperately wanted to thank them for their efforts. You'd spend time just staring at it, as if you were hoping it would reveal its previous owner. 
You were still being watched, the person having a smug smirk plastered on his face. He could see the cogs turning in your head, confusion written all over your features. He'd let the scepticism simmer for a while, and then he'd tell you. 
Or maybe not. He'd see. 
--
The next morning, you walked into the office to see your desk was different. The best kind of different. Your computer had a string of multi-coloured Christmas lights draped over the monitor, and there was a mini Christmas tree sat to the side of it. 
It was decorated with mini baubles, and had an adorable little star on the top. On the surface of your desk, fake snow had been sprinkled around and it looked like a small winter wonderland right on your desk. 
Placed on your keyboard was another note: 'Dear Y/N, the whole office is decorated, so I thought that your desk could be too. I hope you like it, X'. You put the note in your desk drawer along with the other, hoping you could use them to find out who had given you the gift and decorated your desk.
"Jim? Did you see?" you called out to Jim, who was sat at his desk, typing away at something.
"It was like that when I got here," he said with a smile, quickly turning his attention back to his computer. Nobody arrived to work before Jim, absolutely nobody. And even if someone had, he surely would have seen them near your desk and mentioned it to you. 
"Nice decorations, Y/N," Lando said, appearing at your side, and scanning his eyes over your desk. "Was it the mystery Christmas elf again?"
"Yeah, and it is so cute. I love it," you beamed, "I don't know who they are, and I need to thank them for this. It's just so lovely," you rambled, your eyes shining with delight. 
"Still not close to figuring it out?" 
"No, my best guess is Jim at the moment, but I don't know," you shook your head, Jim being the only logical person. "Jim?!" Lando spluttered, his eyes widening in shock. Out of all the people in the office, you came to the conclusion it was Jim.
"He's the only one who is here when stuff happens. He was here when my gift was put under the tree, and he was here when my desk was decorated," you explained your conclusion to deciding Jim was your mystery Christmas elf.
"He doesn't seem like the type to me, if I'm being honest," Lando diverted his shock and slight worry away from Jim.
"Why not? You know something I don't, Norris?" you teased, nudging him.
"I, uhm, no. I just don't want you getting the wrong idea, that's all," he said, trying to hide the panic in his voice. He didn't want you to know just yet. He liked seeing you all frazzled, confused, unknowing. He was proud of himself for having pulled it off. 
"Don't worry Lando, I know you would've told me if you knew," you smirked, turning your attention back to the people around the office. Not a single on of them looked like the people who could be your mystery Christmas elf, and you were at a loss. 
"Yeah, I would've," he nodded, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the fact instead of genuinely believing it. "You're coming to the party tonight, right? The end of year thing?" Lando asked, changing the subject. 
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," you nodded, looking forward to your first McLaren Christmas party, hopefully, of many. "You coming?"
"I sure will be," he smiled, "I'll see you later,"
--
The festive spirit enveloped the office as twinkling lights adorned the words and tinsel sparkled around every corner. Your first of many annual Christmas parties was now in full swing, and your office suddenly didn't seem so bad as your colleagues filled the air with laughter. 
"Lando, you'll never guess what," you said, leaving out any sort of greeting when you approached Lando after finding him in the middle of the party. He had to do a double take when he saw you, for once the lack of papaya bringing him pure joy. 
He couldn't put a word to your appearance in his mind that quite did it justice, but the closest he could find was perfect. Just... everything about you was simply perfect, and the beaming smile plastered on your face was more dazzling than the star atop the Christmas tree. "What?"
"I got a package in the mail from my Christmas elf the minute I arrived home," you excitedly told him.
"Oh really? What did they send you this time?" he asked, glad the plan had been pulled off to perfection. He was very proud of himself, he had been doing a great job over the past couple of days to get everything that he needed to be done, done. 
"Aren't they the prettiest?" you giggled, pulling your hair back to show off the dangling, golden Christmas tree earrings that had arrived at your door. 
"They really are," he nodded, thoroughly satisfied with the results of his Christmas escapade. While Lando's brain was being smug, you couldn't help but stare at him. Yes, he always looked good, that was a given, but he was looking extra snazzy tonight.
Something about that man in suit just hit different. A very good different indeed.  "This person must really like you then, huh?"
"Yeah, and I'd really like to know who they are," you grinned, wanting to know who this mystery person was. They had brought so much light and joy to you in the past couple days, and you wanted to be able to thank them.
"I mean, decorating your desk, sending stuff in the post, making sure yours was the first gift under the tree. That's dedication," he nodded, hoping you'd take the bait and talk about how amazing he- sorry, I mean your Christmas elf was. 
"How'd you know it was the first under the tree? I never told you it was," you said, the pieces clicking together in your head. 
"Did you not? Huh, lucky guess," Lando nervously chuckled, trying to dig himself out of the suddenly deep hole he had found himself in. 
"You didn't have a meeting yesterday morning, did you Lando?" you pressed, finally settling on the idea that it was indeed not Jim, but Lando Norris himself. 
"No..." 
"So why were you in the office early?" you further poked, wanting to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. 
"To put your present under the tree," he admitted, looking right into your eyes. Surely you wouldn't change your mind on the graciousness of your Christmas elf just because it was Lando, right? He just loved bringing joy to you, and seeing you so happy made him joyous beyond belief. 
With a beaming smile, you couldn't stop yourself as you leant in, closing the distance between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as your lips met, a gentle kiss that carried the spirit of Christmas, the joy of the season, and perhaps the hint of something more. 
Your surrounding co-workers pointed and were shocked, but they didn't find it unusual. Lando had been sneaking around the place a lot recently, and they all clocked on a lot quicker than you did. 
As you pulled away, your eyes were locked together, and you couldn't help but share a knowing smile. Looking to your left, you saw Jim stood there, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. Over your heads, he held a sprig of mistletoe. "Really Jim?" you laughed. 
"Merry Christmas," he chuckled back, leaving you and Lando stood there. The party continued around you, but it might as well have just been you and Lando in the room. 
"Thank you, so much," you breathlessly said.
"What else is a Christmas elf for?" he softly chuckled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 
"Merry Christmas," you smiled, kissing him on the cheek. This was, without a doubt, the best secret santa gift you had ever gotten, and would probably ever get. 
A/N - Merry Christmas part 2! I have so many Christmas ideas, but there is only one joyful season per year, and I have a lot of other stuff that needs writing, so it may be saved until next year... We'll see. Would you guys mind getting Christmas stuff in the middle of the year? Lmk! Requests are open, love you loads 💖
|masterlist|
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writeyouin · 28 days
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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6
Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company
A/N – Okay, so for anyone who loves Stand-up comedy as much as I do, I highly recommend you watch Daniel Sloss’ tour, Dark. That’s his first tour, and it was where he coined the term Wanker-Anchor, which is used in this story.
Warnings – None.
Rating – M
TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu
MALE VERSION HERE
GN VERSION HERE
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“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.
She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.
“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.
“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.
“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”
“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.
“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”
“In his room,” Vaggie explained.
“What happened? He was doing so well.”
Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”
“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.
“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”
You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.
Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.
Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.
When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.
You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”
“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.
For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.
You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.
“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”
“Piss off.”
You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.
“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”
There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.
“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”
Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.
“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”
There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.
You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”
I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”
The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.
“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”
He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.
“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.
You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”
“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”
“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”
“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”
You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.
You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”
You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”
Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.
“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”
Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.
He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.
“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.
Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.
You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.
“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.
“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”
Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”
“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”
“What-”
“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”
“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”
You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”
“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”
“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”
Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.
“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.
“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.
Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”
And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.
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Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.
All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.
Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.
Your soul would be his.
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merlinssassybeard · 10 months
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'Ex' Husband Gojo
Tags- fem reader x Gojo, swearing, angst.
Synopsis: The reader had a miscarriage and her husband wasn't there with her to give her support and now she's mentally shaken. Y/n decides to divorce him and but things take a way different turn...
Gojo and reader are married for 4 yrs and love each other profoundly but a terrible accident happened with reader and caused reader a miscarriage and was going through a very bad time. Reader wanted Gojo there to help mentally and emotionally but he was busy with curses...
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"Satoru", you began with a shaky voice.
Your husband Satoru Gojo had all your attention the moment you said his name.
You had called up Satoru to the Tokyo estate, your marital home, for 'an important emergency talk'. These words were enough for Gojo to run from his busy packed schedules to run home to check up on you.
"Hmm?", Satoru hummed indicating you he's all ears. Both seated opposite to each other in the kitchen.
"Satoru, i-", you hesitated but continued, " Satoru, i want divorce...."
At first, he was unresponsive, still processing whether the words he heard were real or some weak residual cursed technique from cursed spirits left on him considering he came right after finishing a mission.
"Divorce?" Satoru came to his senses, "is this... some sort of.. joke my love MRS y/n? Cus' I'm really not liking it!", he tried to laugh it off.
But this wasn't a joke.
Not for you.
You're done.
Done giving him all of everything you have and receiving none.
You had your head slightly bowed down, unable to summon the energy, the strength to look right into his eyes. "This is not a joke, Satoru Gojo.", "i cannot live like this anymore".
Satoru knew it was indeed serious by the tone of it so he's demeanor changed as well.
"Why is it so y/n?", he mumbled in his soft husky voice while extending his hand towards yours to hold. "Is it something i did? You know you can tell me. I told you beforehand marrying me wasn't going to be easy, you remember?"
Yes he is right. He did told you a bazillion times when you nagged him for marriage anytime and everytime you saw him breathing around you. He had told you enough times that being his wife and also in a conservative society isn't going to be a cakewalk. 'Once married, there is no way out of the marital bond since its a holy bond, blessed by the heavens themselves' or as they said, but you didn't care, at that time.
"Reasons don't matter.", you flinched your hands away from his approach and passed the envelope with the papers and got up. "You'll find my signatures in there. Please be civil. Don't want any drama."
Satoru didn't knew what to say since he didn't even expected such a devastating and mind boggling news either. He had just finished his mission overseas and had taken only an hour of rest before being assigned another 'clean up' duty (messed/botched mission by another sorcerer) and in the middle of it he gets your call for an emergency meet up at the house.
He has been working all around the clock and came home to see you, hoping to receive kisses or you expecting souvenirs, which he had plenty just for you. But instead he got this ..... a farewell?
Gojo stayed seated there, watching you leave the kitchen to the room. He stayed seated there for a moment wondering what did he do, where did he go wrong, did he go wrong? Are you alright? Is this a cry for help? Is everything okay with you?
He wanted to check up on you so he got up to head towards the bedroom where you were but stopped dead in his tracks when it hit him, the reason....
"Y/n", you heard the door slide open and Gojo calling your name.
He opened the door and saw you were.... packing? God, you're really not joking.
"Yes?", you gathered the strength to look up at him for the first time in months! Due to his 'business trips' and you swear to god you would have fell down crying as your knees went weak.
"Is it...", he stumbled to say further but he knew he had to confront you with this, "is it because of that thing we talked about? On the phone?"
You knew you will burst out crying in front of him if he talked any further and because of that you couldn't speak either, holding tight onto lips to avoid the tears.
"Uh huh mmmhh mmmhh" you nodded and tried to avoid eye contact.
Oh no! Satoru knew he messed up. But he couldn't just let you... leave!? How could he? He knows and you too, that you are the only person who makes him vulnerable to the point he acts like child, only with you. You are the only one who actually makes him happy and content with his life in this miserable shite world. No words describe your and his relationship. So just how could he just let you leave?
"Y/n. I get it. You want kids." He mumbles, "then we'll have kids! Okay?" He declared.
You looked at him, and when he said that he looked as if he's been held under gun point, reluctant, yet... determined?
No! Yes, you do want children but the role of a father cannot be forced upon a man! That way the child will only be a 'burden' rather than a child born out of love and acceptance.
"No need." You announced and turned your back to him and started putting your clothes in the bag. "My mind can't be changed"
Gojo was left puzzled. He is ready to give you what you had been asking the day you both got married, what his and your parents wanted and the entirety of the Jujutsu Society had a keen eye on.
"I can't let you leave y/n like this", he said not knowing what to do either.
"Okay, I'll put on some fresh clothes.", you replied unbothered.
"No y/n i I told you once you're married you can't!", Satoru tried to come up with some reasoning.
"How the FUCK i cannot?" You yelled right onto his face, throwing the dress in your hand on the floor, annoyed at everything and anything.
"You just CAN'T!", Satoru tried to hold his sanity together.
"I AM FUCKING LEAVING! Divorce or NOT!", You snapped at him and went to pick the dress up and put it in the bag.
"Listen y/n, we can't go with divorce, it'll cause a lot of talk in the family and there's more but we just can't...", he tried to reason with you calmly but you were not in the mood.
"Why do you suddenly want me in your life when from the past fucking 4 years all you have done is being out on your trips?" You sneered and mocked, "Announcing we're going to have kids! Wow! That's not how it works Satoru!"
Satoru now lost it.
"Then what IS IT YOU WANT!? Haven't i given enough? You wanted this marriage! Not me! But i went for it because it was you! Went against my family for you and kept you away from them but what do you care" (your in-laws are toxic and would love to dance over your grave)
"Thats because i refuse to be your whore! You called me up whenever you felt like it. Might as well be your wife rather than just be some whore you sleep with on friday nights."
You recognized what you just babbled out and its disgusting. Your hands involuntarily moved and covered your mouth. You couldn't ever fathom the words you puked.
It is NOT like that! Not at all! You love Satoru, you Have been for a long time! And to have him as your husband is a dream come true! But how could say such lowly things.
Satoru just stood there. It was like one explosion after the other. So that is it? You came to him... for looks? For money? For sex? Goddammit! Satoru wanted to laugh because women of his family warned him not to marry some average human girl, saying further that you'll rob him of his money one day. But he didn't and just stood there watching the horror in your eyes unfold.
Satoru saw you as the only person in his life that made him actually understand the definition of love. Especially someone human, a non sorcerer like you. Thought of you made him content and calm, knowing he has someone waiting for him...... but not anymore.
He rubbed his temple as he'd been without an eye covering this whole time and his head ached a little with all this drama unfolding. He smiled through and looked at you, "that's what you think of me y/n?"
"No-no Satoru! Thats not what meant! Ugh! I don't want the divorce anymore!-"
He interrupted, "ah its okay, totally okay. I'll sign em."
Gojo was awfully calm and collected and you knew that when he's like this he would explode like a volcano if irked.
"No i will not let you!" You screamed and pushed him and ran out of the room in a frenzy to retrieve the divorce papers and tore the sections with your signature into tiny unrecognizable trash.
Satoru walked into the kitchen and just stood there. "You can have this house. I'll have Ijichi send down some papers later."
You eyes widened, "what..... papers?"
"Separation papers", he replied.
His gaze went around the house randomly and said, "since you don't wanna be a-" he stop and looks at you but continues.
"Since you do not wish to be a 'whore', you're free from me. I don't want chaos in both of our families so im suggesting separation. Yeah? Works in favor of both of us"
You were shook. You knew what you were doing when you brought the divorce papers but you didn't expected it to become so real.
"I'm leaving now. I'll send for my things so please don't throw my things just yet! Haha." Satoru was throwing jokes at a moment like this.
Damage has been done.
You ran out as soon as you saw him leave. You kept saying that its not what you meant and there's more to it and what not. But he just wore his blindfold and got into the car.
You saw him shut the door on your face and uttered his last words as your husband to you....
"Congratulations, Ms y/n. This'll be the last time you'll see me and when you think you're ready for divorce, lemme know!"
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Part 2
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hitlikehammers · 1 month
Text
to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)
rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending
for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)
this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️
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“Oh fuck, not you, too.”
Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—
“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.
“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“
“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—
He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.
That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.
“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.
But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.
He swallows anyway; not that it helps.
“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—
“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”
Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.
But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.
“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.
“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.
“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.
“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:
Not you.
“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.
He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.
Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.
“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:
“That you’re here, too.”
And, oh. Okay.
Okay.
They’re here, then. Together.
Here.
___________________
It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.
They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.
For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.
He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?
Who’s gonna fucking know?
Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.
He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.
He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.
He craves this.
He doesn’t know what that fucking means.
But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.
And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.
But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…
Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:
That’s not death.
___________________
Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—
Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.
Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.
He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—
“What the fuck?”
Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.
Doesn’t change his question.
Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.
“Where the hell did those come from?”
Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”
Steve gapes a little.
“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck
“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.
Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:
“Pick your poison.”
And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…
“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:
“Go Fish?”
And Steve, he, like—
This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.
He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…
In a while.
___________________
“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.
“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.
They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.
“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:
“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:
“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.
They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.
“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“
“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.
“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—
Steve likes how they fit.
“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”
Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.
___________________
“You’re really good company.”
Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.
“What?”
Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.
“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”
Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.
“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”
And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:
“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:
“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.
And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:
“Me too, sweetheart.”
And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—
___________________
Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.
He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…
It’s not just his smile.
“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.
“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.
“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—
“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?
Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…
That feels more
___________________
It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.
“You called me big boy.”
Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.
His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.
Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—
“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”
Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.
“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—
“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—
“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.
“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—
“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.
Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.
But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.
“You’re not stupid, Steve.”
Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.
“I’m very stupid.”
And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on��Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?
And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.
“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:
“About, you know, matters of the heart.”
Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:
“Heart?”
But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:
He thinks he can hear the hope.
“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.
“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—
“And kiss me, you dick.”
Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—
“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.
“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”
Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.
“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.
“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?
Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?
Fuck. Fuck.
If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.
___________________
He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.
The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.
Steve fucking hates it.
“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.
“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.
He cannot fucking accept that.
“I don’t want you to die at all.”
Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—
“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—
“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.
“Maybe we’ll wake up.”
Maybe. Maybe.
“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:
“Kiss me again when we wake up.”
And Steve will, he will, but.
He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.
He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.
So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…
Whatever happens will take them both.
___________________
Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—
“Eddie!”
He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—
And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.
Covers his hands. Presses.
And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—
“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—
There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.
“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:
“That the only reason?”
He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—
Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—
Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:
“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead
in-love, in-love, in-love—
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tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 
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hanaruri-tunes · 9 months
Text
The avatars of sin ganging up on y/n, making them their pet
⚠️ MDNI
Tags: possessive/ownership, overstimulation, taming, shaming
Y/N can be any gender in this one.
Probably the most slutty fic conceptually, yet ironically the less provocative/descriptive thing I’ve written thus far. It is really short but I’ll put it under a read more nonetheless. Enjoy!
You had always been cheeky but lately, you might've gone a bit too far. Some of your actions could in fact be seen as you looking down on the avatars of sin which was in extension an insult to the devildom. You would play around with them, challenging them, then happily tease them once they lost. Or even straight up play with their hearts, switching 2 to 4 times a day with whom you're hanging out with. They had started to slowly feel like some hookers or like easily replaceable toys for you to use. It was frustrating, at times they even felt outright disrespected. Like some side pieces for you to choose from and juggle between at will.
Oh, how exhilarating it was when you came to them to ask for help, desperate after you had been struck by a curse. Making you weak and desperate for touch, asking them to fuck you while looking all hot and bothered.
Lucifer was the one to break first, leading all of his brothers along to "teach you a lesson."
They were planning on humiliating you, on making you beg, on completely destroying your ego and making you feel mortified. But, well… they quickly realized how difficult it was for them to be mean and commanding towards you once they surrounded you, each trying to put their hands on you to rip your clothes off. In reality, all they managed to do is to slowly and gently take your clothes off.
Why was that? Because despite how you usually act with them, once you were cornered you started acting all shy, obedient and vulnerable. If you had been more provocative it would be easy to be mean, to strip you off of your dignity but as it turned out, that wasn’t the case. You were just so cute that they instead treated you carefully and lovingly, measuring your reactions.
Of course, some of them took the reins on teasing you and mocking you a little more once they got comfortable with the situation at hand. Those demons being Lucifer, Asmo, Belphie and in some instances Satan as well. Meanwhile Mammon, Levi and Beel were still very gentle and kind, telling the others off the moment it looked like something had hurt you or a movement was too sudden, too rough for your sensitive body to handle.
They take turns using you, making you say their name, making you apologize for being so full of yourself before and while some may try to act like it’s not working, they’re all absolutely smitten and have already forgiven you or even completely forgotten why they got mad at you in the first place. They caress your back, squeeze your thighs, pet your head, kiss your cheeks. They can’t help but find you adorable, especially seeing the contrast between how you usually act and how you are right now in front of them.
Eventually, they start treating you like their plaything. Dressing you up in cute and slutty outfits for their eyes only, filming and taking pictures of you, telling you to sit on their laps and so on and so forth. It doesn’t take long for them to make you into their beloved pet. They start fighting over you, wanting to hog you all for themselves. At some point they decide to come up with a schedule, indicating which day you’ll spend with which demon in order to avoid "unfairness" in your interactions with them. You’re their precious little darling and they go absolutely stupid over you.
They love making you tired, so weak that you can’t even keep yourself on your hands and knees. Once your arms give out, you’re a mumbling and drooling mess, ass in the air only because they’re holding you by the waist to pound into you. When that happens, you’re the most adorable thing ever in their eyes. They love watching you squirm, whimper and cry under them as they’re overstimulating you. All the while you can’t help but shudder under their pressing gazes on your entire being, the cute faces you make along with the pretty sounds that escape your mouth, the way you tremble when you’re about to cum, your little hands flailing only to grab either the sheets beneath you or one of them. They want to witness it all.
Puppy, bunny, darling, baby. The nicknames keep piling up, your name getting called less and less. They’ve successfully made you into their obedient little pet and they damn well will make sure to spoil you every single day...
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