#( but yeah that's just my hot take on this hot mess ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 7 hours ago

Text

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Yayyyy!! Welcome about the 1940s train, my friend!! I know how much you share my love of historical fiction/AU. 😘

Here we go -- diving into your lovely amazing comments. 😎

Right off the bat we get the classic and hilarious brother dynamic between the two of them. And of course, Dean being Dean. He just couldn't resist. 🙄 Not to mention the fact that Sam literally gave Dean a list of things to do in NYC other than bother him 😂

Lolll we gotta get into that first, right? I thought the best way to set the scene would be to establish the bro relationship here -- how this version of Sam and Dean are exactly the same...and how they're a bit different. 😬 (exactly on that list! lmfao)

I love this little bit of world-building, because right off the bat you are introducing little things that will divide Sam and Dean. It builds the scene, shapes the characters, and introduces the idea that, yes both men enlisted, but at the same time there are other sides/fronts to the war and those experiences shaped these two men in different ways. I also like that you made them be in different places in the military, because their personalities are so different and it fits that Dean was the one who saw combat and has a little bit of shell-shock, but then you see Sam who is able to keep a stable job and merges well into the hustle and bustle of NYC.

Thank youuuuu I was hoping someone would pick up on all of this. 😭😭 I thought it would be interesting to apply Sam's intelligence literally in Intelligence. It was an interesting and necessary facet of the war. Without the spies and Intelligence efforts on the Allied side, we wouldn't have won the war.

But in this story, it would also provide that contrast with how Sam experienced the war and how Dean did, with him being what we think of when we think of a soldier, coming out of all of this with shell shock and more than a few scars -> something the movies of the '40s tended to gloss over. 🥲

"He'd met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn't seen a lady like you in quite some time." I'm dying with this line. I love it so much. Oh boy... I already feel like this fic is going to destroy me in the best way.

AGAIN - another line I hoped someone would enjoy. 💗 Dean's been messing around with a lot of "girls," but this here's a lady. 😘

Aww Sam 😭 I'm also dying that Dean walked her home, my word, what a man.

Sam's a Good Man, but so is Dean, in a more obvious flirtatious gesture of chivalry guy kind of way. 😅

You don't gotta ask what it's like sweet pea, you're gonna be out there soon enough with a ring on your left hand that actually MEANS SOMETHING to the man who gave it to you (DEAN)!

Ooooh girl, not you already getting red hot with your theories. 😜

Girl please be curious for all of us 🤣 But I will say I like that she still upholds her side of the marriage even though her husband is literally a human trash can filled with Raccoons. As Dean put it earlier, she's a lady.

Oh yeah, gotta have that spark of attraction, noticing those bowlegs!

And yes, that morality and how seriously she takes her vows is something that's still very much at the crux of this story, especially considering the times, where as a whole the nation had more religious and/or traditional values around marriage. Even though, obvious, adultery has been around since the beginning of time lmao. 🫠

Also I love that you made her a nurse and that she and Dean were in the same area, so they're able to connect on that level, and it's not just Dean being flirty. I think that giving the reader that particular background also will help her navigate how to help Dean, if she's seen other soldiers with shell-shock and PTSD.

Aw thank you!! They have some common ground, literally, even if they were in Normandy at different points during the war. And you're right, her being nurse is going to be a key character element going forward, with Dean and Michael.

Oh my sweet goodness she's the best. Did she stutter?! I think not!

Right?! That's def her mic drop moment! loll 🎙️

You know what Mike, if you keep talking you're gonna regret it. Your wife might be a lady, but Dean isn't. And Dean will go full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass while you're asleep for doing the twisted tango with another woman!! 😡🤣

LMFAO not Lorena Bobbitt!!!!! I'm deceasedddd. 💀💀💀

Alex this chapter was amazing! I can see how much research and hard work you put into it my talented friend! I can't wait to see what else is in store for Dean and this reader 🥰

Aww thank you, my lovely Lee. 🥹 Part 2 is about to drop tomorrow, so you'll see very soon!! (Or whenever you get to it lol) 💕

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut.

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said.

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?”

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap.

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once.

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?”

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said.

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks.

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly.

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.”

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.”

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff.

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so.

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly.

“Hmm. No real loss there then.”

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.”

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner.

“Excuse me?”

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.”

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

Read Part 2 on Patreon! || Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 2/14

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Between the City & the Stars Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer

#lovely review! 💕💕#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #BCAS feedback

361 notes · View notes

greengoblinswifey · 13 hours ago

Text

Love & Super Bowl

pairing— Cooper Dejean x Fem!Reader

summary— The Eagles just won the Super Bowl and on top of that, it’s your boyfriend’s birthday. So, you reward him and celebrate in the best way possible.

warnings— 18+. fluff, L bombs, praise kink, oral(m&f), fingering, hair pulling, strip tease, ass slapping, choking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie.

a/n— As requested by the masses, Cooper DeJean smut🙏🏽I need him so fucking baddd

As the final whistle blew, signaling the Philadelphia Eagles’ victory, you leaped from your seat, your cheers echoing amidst the crowd.

Green confetti rained down everywhere and the crowd was going wild, the cheers enough to make you go deaf. Pushing through the chaos, you spotted him on the field, helmet off, hair a mess, the biggest smile on his face. You didn’t even think, just ran straight to him, launching yourself into his arms. He caught you like it was nothing, holding you tight as you wrapped your legs around him.

“I’m so proud of you, baby!” you practically shouted, smiling like an idiot.

Cooper laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you so much,” he said, kissing you, green confetti sticking to both of you.

The whole thing felt unreal, like something out of a movie.

Later at the after party, Cooper looked hot—too hot. A cigar between his lips, smirk on his face, championship chain around his neck, you wanted him, badly. But you kept it together, mostly. That is, until you started dancing on him, pushing your ass back to feel how hard you made him.

His grip on your waist tightened. “Baby, stop,” he murmured in your ear, voice low. “You know I’ll take you right here.”

You smirked, looking back at him. “Then do it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just wait ‘til we get back to the hotel.”

And he meant that.

The whole night, he kept you close, his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like he couldn’t stand to be apart for more than five seconds. You could tell he was counting down the minutes until the party was over even though he was enjoying it.

And the second you walked into the hotel room? He had you up against the door, kissing you like he’d been waiting forever. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His hands on your ass, slapping and squeezing.

“You were amazing tonight,” you murmured between kisses. “So proud of you.”

The Super Bowl, his birthday, and you, his girlfriend? He couldn’t have asked for a better night.

“You deserve to be rewarded tonight,” you murmured, tracing a hand down Cooper’s chest as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He smirked, his eyes dark. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, giving him that look, the one that always made his breath hitch. “Mhm.”

Slowly, you stepped back, peeling off your outfit with a teasing smile, even swaying your hips and bending over to give him a full view of your pussy. He leaned back slightly, his hands gripping the sheets as he took you in, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“God, you’re fucking hot,” he muttered.

You made your way back to him, pushing him gently so he fell against the mattress. His hands immediately found your waist, but you swatted them away playfully. “Let me take care of you,” you whispered, kissing a trail down his torso.

His breathing grew heavier, his muscles tensing under your touch. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as you moved lower, looking up at him through your lashes.

His grip tightened on the sheets, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. “Oh, shit—”

And that was all the encouragement you needed.

After ridding him of his undergarments, his cock sprang free, hard and already leaking. You took ahold of him, hand barely able to go around it all before you kissed the tip. He sucked in a breath, his eyes laser focused on you as you trailed your tongue up and down the veins on his thick shaft.

“You’re such a tease baby,” he chucked, “C’mon, take my dick down that throat.”

He rested his hand on your head and you slowly took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue until he hit the back of your throat. You let him settle there for a minute, relishing in how stretched out your mouth was and how sexy his soft moans sounded before you began moving your head.

“Just like that, baby. You’re so fucking amazing,” he moaned.

You pulled him out of your mouth, leaving just the tip in and suckled on it. He was so sensitive, throwing his head back and gripping the sheets as if to anchor himself. Your lips trailed from his shaft to his balls, sucking as he whimpered soft praises.

“That feels so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” he murmured, breath heaving as he stared down at you.

Taking him back down your throat, you bobbed your head faster, hands caressing his balls as they tightened. With a pop, you took him out of your mouth. “Cum down my throat, you deserve it.”

He bucked his hips, moaning your name as his load shot down your throat. You didn’t stop though, taking him deeper, bobbing your head faster, determined to get every reaction and every last drop of cum out of him.

When you were finally done with him, he pulled you up into a sloppy kiss, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue. “Thank you so much, baby. You always know how to make me feel good,” he praised.

You pushed his hair back, littering his face with kisses. His hands went to your ass as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was even deeper than the last, squeezing and caressing. He had your leg up, trailing his fingers slowly along your thigh until they reached your clit.

“Baby,” you whined. “You always make me feel good but tonight is your night.”

Cooper shifted until his face was hovering over your pussy. “I don’t care. I need to taste you.”

Your half hearted protests caught in your throat as his mouth connected with your clit, sucking as though he had a point to prove. His tongue lapped at your juices, and you cried out as he abruptly slipped a finger inside you.

“God, you taste fucking incredible,” he muttered.

His tongue worked with precision, flicking your clit as his finger curled inside you, meeting your sweet spot with every thrust. You grabbed his hair, grinding on his tongue as he worked you over and before long, you could feel the coil in your abdomen tighten.

“Clenching around my fingers so tight. Give me my reward baby, cum in my mouth,” Cooper said, between licks.

Your back arched from the bed and you felt a rush of liquid leave your pussy. He lapped at your juices like a man starved, guiding you through your high as your entire body shook.

“That’s my girl, that’s my perfect fucking girl,” he cooed, sucking off his finger and licking his lips.

Your breath hitched. He didn’t even give you a minute to recover. You felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh as he hovered above you, his hair tousled giving him that chiseled look.

“Cooper,” you whined. “I need you so fucking bad. I’ve needed you the moment you started playing on that field, you looked so hot.”

He smirked, rubbing the tip along your folds and collecting your juices. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Without missing a beat you did as you were told. “I want your cock so bad. Please fuck me, I need it. I need you.”

“Good girl.” With his hand wrapped gently around your throat, his cock inched into your pussy. You could feel every vein as he slowly pushed inside you, inch by inch until your nails clawed his back.

“Fuck. This pussy was so needy for me, wasn’t she?” he groaned, his eyes going from his cock buried inside you to your face twisted in pleasure.

You couldn’t answer, his cock had knocked the air out of your lungs but he wasn’t having it. He thrusted harshly, your tits bouncing as your body jolted.

“Answer me,” he said, voice low and rough.

“Yes, Cooper. My pussy’s so needy,” you managed to croak out.

He began moving at a steady pace, hitting all the right spots that made your nails dig into his back even deeper. His hand was still around your throat, gentle but firm as his gaze locked with yours.

“You feel so fucking good. Taking this dick like you’re the champ tonight,” he chuckled, breathlessly.

You spread your legs even wider, the sound of your cries and pussy squelching filling the room.

“Faster, Cooper!” you cried out, feeling yourself tip over the edge.

“Anything for my good girl.”

He pushed your legs behind your head, the angle making his cock slip inside you even deeper. He pressed you into the mattress, pounding your pussy as your loud moans filled the hotel room.

“Oh my God, Cooper! I’m gonna cum!” You were sure the entire floor filled with Eagles players could hear you but in that moment, you didn’t care. Cooper was fucking you too good, still running off the adrenaline from the game.

You moaned his name like a prayer, squirting on his raw cock as he continued slamming into you. He pressed kisses to your lips, still thrusting into you until he flipped you over so you were on your back.

He slapped your ass, making you squeal, then sank right back into you. “So fucking sexy. Take everything I give you.”

You arched your back and his fingers tangled in your hair as he slammed into you from behind. With each thrust, you felt the head of his cock practically kissing your cervix. He stared down at your ass rippling against him and his cock disappearing inside you, covered in your cream.

“You should see how beautiful you look just taking my fucking dickfrom behind,” he groaned, voice raspy. “Can’t believe how lucky I am tonight.”

You pushed back against him, meeting his harsh thrusts and with the way his cock twitched inside you, you could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

“That’s my girl. Push back against my dick. Fuck me back, princess.”

He let go of your hair, hand snaking around your neck as you arched off him and met his thrusts. He titled your head back, pressing a deep kiss to your lips as his hips stuttered.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum,” he murmured.

Your walls clenched around him, creaming on his cock and soaking him.

“Cum inside me, Cooper,” you breathed, your entire body convulsing from the intense orgasm.

You didn’t need to tell him twice, he slammed into you for the last time, pressing you into the mattress as his load filled you to the brim. A deep a guttural moan left his lips, his cock twitching and painting your insides.

“Don’t move, baby,” he whimpered. “Stay right there, take all my cum. I’m gonna breed this pussy tonight.”

You stayed pressed into the mattress, the feeling of his warm and sticky cum leaving you content until he finally collapsed beside you, panting.

You were still catching your breath, body trembling slightly as Cooper pulled you into his arms. His skin was warm against you, his lips brushing over yours as you both tried to steady yourselves. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns as he gazed at you with that look he always gave you, like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“You took me so well,” he murmured. “You’re so hot. That was amazing.”

You smiled against his lips, pressing another soft kiss there before pulling back to look at him. “I’m so proud of you, truly,” you whispered. “You did absolutely amazing out there. You’re a fucking Super Bowl champion, Cooper.”

He let out a breathless chuckle and pressed a trail of kisses over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, making you giggle softly.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, holding you even closer, like he never wanted to let go. “I couldn’t think of a better way to end the night.”

You snuggled deeper into his chest, your fingers lazily tracing over his skin. “I love you too. Happy birthday again,” you whispered back, closing your eyes as his heartbeat thrummed steadily in your ear.

Perfect.

112 notes · View notes

saebyeokbliss · 2 days ago

Text

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER TWO

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, late-night facetime calls, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

"Why are you taking this so seriously?"

You groaned, leaning closer to the mirror as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the hundredth time. Behind you, Ji-Yeong was sprawled across the hotel bed, chin propped up on her hands, watching you with barely contained amusement.

"Because," you said, exasperated, "passport photos last for ten years. I don’t want to look like a mess every time I travel."

Se-Mi, sitting cross-legged on the floor scrolling through her phone, snorted. "Sweetheart, it's a passport photo. They alllook bad."

"Exactly," No-Eul added from her seat by the window. "No matter what you do, you'll end up looking like a criminal."

You turned around, glaring at them. "You guys are so unhelpful."

Ji-Yeong grinned. "We're just saying—you're acting like this is a glamour shot or something."

"It's not a glamour shot," you muttered, smoothing down your shirt. "I just want to look—presentable."

Se-Mi smirked, tilting her head. "Presentable or hot?"

You shot her a look. "Oh my God."

"Because," Ji-Yeong continued, grinning mischievously, "if you're trying to impress someone, you should just say so."

No-Eul, ever the quiet observer, finally looked up from her phone. "If she's trying to impress someone, wouldn't it be someone who actually sees her passport?"

Se-Mi gasped dramatically. "Ooooh. True. So, who are you trying to look good for at customs, huh?"

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.

She dodged, cackling. "A direct attack! She’s definitely hiding something."

"You're all insufferable," you grumbled, turning back to the mirror.

And then—

"I'll go with you."

You paused, blinking at your reflection before turning around.

Sae-Byeok, who had been silent for most of this conversation, was sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching you casually.

Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi both immediately perked up at her words.

"Oh?" Ji-Yeong drawled, grinning.

Sae-Byeok shot her a warning glance. "Don't start."

Se-Mi wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh, we already started, babe."

You cleared your throat, trying not to feel weirdly warm all of a sudden. "You want to come with me?"

Sae-Byeok shrugged. "Why not? You’ll just stress yourself out if you go alone."

It was a simple, logical offer—one that shouldn’t have made your stomach flip.

But it did.

"Uh. Yeah, okay," you said, trying to sound normal. "That’d be nice."

Ji-Yeong nudged Se-Mi, both of them smirking like they were witnessing something far more interesting than a simple passport errand.

Sae-Byeok ignored them, standing up and grabbing her jacket. "Let’s go before you change your outfit again."

You huffed but followed her out the door, ignoring the not-so-quiet giggles that followed behind you.

The fluorescent lights in the small passport office buzzed faintly, casting a dull glow over the waiting area. You shifted anxiously in your seat, smoothing down your shirt for what had to be the tenth time.

Sae-Byeok, sitting beside you with her arms crossed, glanced at you and smirked. "You look fine."

You let out a dramatic sigh. "I don’t feel fine. What if the lighting is bad? What if I blink? What if—"

"You will blink at some point in your life," she deadpanned.

You shot her a look. "That’s not what I meant."

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You’re overthinking this."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. "I have to. This is a ten-year commitment. I can’t just—wing it."

Sae-Byeok gave you an unimpressed look. "You know it’s just a photo, right?"

"Just a photo?" You gasped dramatically. "Sae-Byeok, this is literally the difference between looking like a functioning human being or a sleep-deprived goblin every time I go through customs."

She snorted. "I think customs officers have worse things to worry about than whether you look cute in your passport."

You crossed your arms. "Easy for you to say. You always look effortlessly cool."

At that, her smirk faltered slightly—just for a second. But you caught it.

Before you could overthink that, the receptionist at the counter called your number.

"That’s me," you muttered, standing up. You hesitated for a second before glancing at Sae-Byeok. "You’ll wait?"

She rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious. "Yeah, go."

You nodded, taking a deep breath before heading toward the photo station.

The Dreaded Passport Photo

The photographer, an older woman who looked like she had seen far too many people stress over this process, gestured for you to sit on the stool in front of the plain white backdrop.

"Alright, sit up straight, look at the camera, and don’t smile," she instructed.

You adjusted yourself, trying to find the perfect balance between looking normal and not looking like a serial killer.

The photographer raised a skeptical brow. "Relax your shoulders."

You did.

"Now open your eyes a little more."

You tried.

"Not that much. You look surprised."

You exhaled through your nose, adjusting again.

"Okay, on three. One… two…"

Click.

You blinked. "Wait, was that—?"

"Alright, you’re done," the photographer said, already moving on to the next steps.

You sat there for a second, processing. "I—oh. Okay."

Sliding off the stool, you walked back to the waiting area, where Sae-Byeok was still lounging in her chair, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up as you approached. "How’d it go?"

You sighed. "I think I blacked out for a second."

She smirked. "You were in there for two minutes."

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, flopping down next to her. "It was so fast. What if I look weird? What if my hair was messed up?"

Sae-Byeok rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’ll survive."

Before you could launch into another round of panicked self-analysis, the receptionist called your name again. You went up to collect your new passport, flipping it open immediately to inspect the damage.

You stared at it.

Sae-Byeok leaned over slightly. "Well?"

You turned the passport toward her, pouting. "I look so awkward."

She took one glance at it, then smirked. "Yeah, a little."

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. "Kill me."

Sae-Byeok chuckled, nudging your arm. "Hey. At least now you can actually travel with us."

You lifted your head slightly. "That’s true…"

She nodded. "And don’t worry. If customs ever gives you trouble, just let Ji-Yeong do the talking. She’ll confuse them so much they’ll just let us through."

You laughed at that, shaking your head. "That’s probably true."

As you both walked out of the office, Sae-Byeok glanced at you. "For what it’s worth," she said casually, "I think you look fine."

You blinked, caught off guard.

Before you could say anything, she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked away, like she hadn’t just said something that made your heart skip a beat.

And just like that, the passport photo disaster didn’t seem so bad anymore.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25 @monroesturnns

#sae byeok #fanfic #saebyeok x reader #squid game #wlw fiction #kang sae byeok x reader #wuh luh wuh #kang no eul x reader #ji yeong #se mi x reader #angst #rockstar au #⋆˚࿔ just meet me at the apt.

71 notes · View notes

alalalalaalalalviraaaaa · 6 hours ago

Text

summary: valentine's day? this is nerdjo's perfect chance!

song list: (hella short cuz this is short)

espresso- sabrina carpenter

obsessed- mariah carey

kiss it better- rihanna

"i-i... well um, i think you're uhh, very... pretty... and i um, you'r-"

"so you mean i'm hot and you can't stop staring?" you say in a judgy voice, unable to comprehend what's going on— or 'flabbergasted' as what the dumbass in front of you calls it. "listen up, nerd: i know i'm a looker, and i don't need someone like you to remind me of that, mmkay? so scram." you say, pushing past like what? the 13th dumbass? and you're not even two hours in.

you look to your side, just to be met by satoru, a loyal puppy. even though he was the smartest, he did your homework for free, unlike the other nerds who'd grown some balls thinking they had a chance with you— except for the chance to finish your essays.

pretty face adorned with baby blue eyes, satoru wasn't that ugly. in fact, he wasn't ugly at all. just that... he was a nerd. with nerdy glasses, nerdy clothes, and thick, nerdy books in his hands 24/7. flustered, stuttering mess. hey, but he looks so cute wrapped around your finger, ain't that right?

"well," he chuckles and pushes his glasses up with an index. damn, 5 inch fingers? what about his co- "you're getting a lot of confessions, huh?" he shakes his head head slightly and walks alongside you.

"mhm... it's exhausting." you say tiredly, with a hint of smug in your voice. "oh, and did you finish my assignment? need to hand it over next period." you inquire, expecting the work. satoru was never late to anything. punctual, perfect, and what not? would be your mom's dream if you brought him home.

"oh, yeah! i did it for you, and i guarantee you'll get an A!" he says proudly, looking over at you.

"uhh.. okay, now hand it over?" you say with a bit of attitude, your hand open as you observe him scrambling for it in some bag. "here! here is it!" he hands it to you like some sacred treasure. you look at the paper, looking at what he wrote before you catch a glimpse of red and some scrunching of wrappers as he zips the bag up. your eyebrows furrow as realise what it is. roses. and chocolates. who the fuck is he giving that to?

"what's that?" you ask sternly, looking up at him, the assignment completely forgotten. "the thing in your bag. who's that for, huh?" you push him against a wall, quickly pinning him.

"w-what do you mean? i-i don't know what yo-"

"the roses. and chocolates. in your bag right now, who's that for, eh? some other nerdy slut? that blondie cheerleader? psst- she won't accept it, cut it out. no one would." you say harshly, not a single bit jealous. scoff, you've never been jealous in your life.

a flicker of emotions flash by his face and then it settles to a one of annoyance.

"not even you?" he says, a hint of smugness in his face.

"what?" you say, now truly 'flabbergasted'. what does he mean by that? there's no way he's...

"well, since no one would accept me... i guess you won't get those." he signals to the bag with his eyes and looks back into your eyes deeply. a full blown smirk adorns his face, the 'next period' completely out of mind.

"wait, i didn't mean that, come on!" you retorted. how could he speak to you like that? you were the famous y/n, who would not confess to you? you take the roses and chocolates out of his bag, and shove it into his hands. "now do it, properly. say how much you love me and what you find hot about me."

"i know you have guys all over you all the time, but they're all just desperate and weak. i ain't like them. i'm confident and i know what i want. and what i want is you. you're absolutely hot, and nobody else is gonna have you. so yeah, i want you, and i'm not takin' no for an answer."

lips crash and feelings form, you taking the first move. tongues moving and doing more to express more than words. you both knew you both wanted this. he switches positions and puts a leg in between yours, making it unable for you to escape. his thigh rubs against yours and he gropes you, out in the hallway, where anyone could see. but no one was around, and that was all that mattered (you as well). he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"y/n, please... i need you so much right now."

68 notes · View notes

cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 11 hours ago

Text

Hi so I'm obsessed with this idea

Here's what my brain did with it :)

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Sirius groans, dropping his head into his hands. He doesn't miss James covering his chuckle with a cough but, in all honesty, he's more than a little distracted right now. "I mean, I'm practically throwing myself at him!"

"Yeah, you really are."

"Everyone can tell, right?"

"...no?"

Sirius pulls his head out of his hands and shoots James a glare. Lying isn't helping him figure out what the fuck he can do about everything.

It's been two months since Sirius had decided to start being brazen with Remus. He had been dropping the odd subtle sign for a while before; reading Remus' favourite books to watch the smile on his face, bringing back chocolate from Hogsmeade when the full moon is creeping closer, even asking him to explain DADA topics in spite of the fact that he's top of the class, just to see the way his eyes light up when he's teaching.

Suffice to say, those got him absolutely nowhere.

His solution? Up his game.

For the past two months, he's done nothing but flirt with Remus. He has brushed Remus' curls from his face more times than he can count, revelling in the way Remus' entire face seems to uncontrollably turn bright red. The two of them have sat together on the astronomy tower for hours on end to talk, and Sirius can't even remember half of the flirty remarks he's made in that time. Once he placed his hand on the small of Remus' back and heard the yelp he tried to muffle, watched him become a stammering mess in a matter of seconds. He called him hot in the middle of the Great Hall, before promptly brushing his thumb over Remus' lower lip to 'get rid of the jam.' What did he get from that? Remus mumbled something unintelligible about jam, and Sirius still didn't get anywhere.

He's not sure he can take any more of this. Everybody knows what he's trying to do. Professor McGonnagal doesn't even tell him off during class when he spends all of his time talking to Remus, doodling across Remus' arm, or even when he started tracing his fingers across the palm of Remus' hand!

Somehow, in spite of the fact that they're the talk of the school, Remus has no bloody clue. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to spell it all out for Remus. That several dates would give Remus some kind of revelation. For some reason, every time Sirius sincerely calls their Hogsmeade outings a date, Remus just laughs it off. Every single quip Sirius has made has been considered a strangely timed joke, even though he turns bright red and forgets how to pull a sentence together every time. Honestly, Sirius wants to shake him, to tell him that no, it's not a joke. He needs Remus to know that he's head over heels for him. He's actually a little convinced that he'll spontaneously combust if Remus doesn't figure out that every single thing he does makes Sirius' heart melt.

"Sirius, you need to kick it up a notch!" James says.

Sirius chuckles before he can stop himself, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I don't think there's another notch, Prongs!"

"There definitely is." Sirius arches an eyebrow, and James leans a little closer. "Snog him senseless."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know how many more dates you can go on without kissing him, Padfoot."

"Knowing my luck, he'll think I'm just being... a really intense friend."

"If he does," James starts, leaning back with a shrug, "then you can be really intense friends. You can shag in a friendly way, have a beautiful friend ceremony, and co-parent your children as best friends forever!" Sirius shoves James' arm, and James raises his arms in surrender. "I'm just saying you need to spell it out for him! I think you're overestimating his sense of self worth."

"...sorry?"

James looks at him like he's just started speaking another language.

"Sirius, come on." At Sirius' confusion, he starts considering his words very carefully. "You're Sirius Black! Quidditch team, most eligible bachelor, half the school loves you, half the school wants to be you?"

"Right...?"

"Merlin's sake, you're idiots. Both of you. Just snog him? Please? You'll be doing all of us a bloody favour." James groans, looking a little like he wants to lock Sirius in a room with Remus until it's all sorted.

"Fine."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah," Sirius says with a shrug. "I'm clearly not getting anywhere right now, am I? What have I got to lose?"

"Thank fuck," James exhales, letting out a relieved laugh.

Thankfully, it's much easier to find the opportunity than he thought. He's spent an embarrassing amount of time doting on him recently, so he just looks for a time where he would usually find some pet name to call him and watch him blush.

James has promised to steer clear of the dorm, dragging Peter with him and letting Sirius capitalise on the chance to be around Remus without every other student in the school watching them. The moment they're alone, Sirius hazards a glance at him. He's wrapped up in his book, curled up on his bed and looking so invested in it that Sirius almost feels like it's a crime to disturb him.

Still, he has a feeling that this'll be a welcome interruption.

"Moons?" Remus glances up. "What're you reading?"

"Oh, er..." He smiles a little sheepishly. "I'm trying to get through all of Austen's books." He holds up the cover. Emma.

"What's it about?" Sirius asks, taking a chance at moving over and settling opposite Remus on his bed.

"It's my favourite so far. It's about a girl who decides that she's meant to be a matchmaker." As Remus starts to speak, Sirius watches his eyes light up, an affectionate smile creeping further onto his face by the second as Remus goes into great detail about this book. It's Remus at his happiest, and Sirius would do anything to see him like this all the time.

He had every intention of kissing him halfway through the explanation, just to see if Remus liked him enough that he wouldn't care. Instead, he lets Remus finish explaining, caught up in the joy in his eyes. In fact, he forgets to speak at all when Remus is done, earning him a confused look.

"Sirius?" Remus waves a hand in front of his face. "Padfoot, are you-"

Fuck it.

He leans in and connects their lips before he has a chance to reconsider.

He practically hears Remus' brain short circuit. When Sirius pulls away, wanting to give Remus' brain a chance to play catch up, he watches the shock flit across his face, quickly joined by confusion as his face starts to flush.

What a magnificent fucking sight.

"What was...?" Remus trails off. Sirius has seen him forget how to speak before, but never has he managed to leave Remus at a loss for words entirely.

"Er... it was a kiss?" Sirius answers lightly.

"No, I-" Remus blinks harshly, regaining some semblance of control over his voice. "Why did... why?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you," Sirius says gently. "I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

"Me?"

"I really like you, Rem."

"Oh. Oh, my..." His eyes scan across Sirius' face, like he's waiting for Sirius to turn around and say that he's kidding. He seems to find the sincerity he was looking for, as he blurts out, "thank you."

Thank you?

Sirius would laugh if it weren't the most genuinely dumbfounded response he could have been given. Remus' eyes immediately widen as he realises what he's said, a frustrated groan escaping him as he draws his knees to his chest and drops his head onto them.

"Sorry, that's- that's not- well, it is, but I didn't... shit." He looks as though he wants to turn into a hermit crab and hide from Sirius.

"You're welcome...?" Sirius tries softly. "Remus? Remus, you can look at me." He watches Remus shake his head. Okay, he's going to need to work for this. "Rem, there's literally nothing you could do that would change how I feel. It's been a hell of a long time now, my feelings aren't going anywhere. You're absolutely bloody brilliant." Remus lifts his head to shoot Sirius a disbelieving look. He can't quite disguise the hope in his eyes, though, and his face is a perfect shade of red now. Sirius just meets his eye, daring him to disagree. "You might not be able to see what I see, what James and Pete see, but you are. You're kind, you're clever, you're beautiful-"

Remus interjects with a laugh.

"Hey, you've never actually seen your own face, have you?"

"I have-"

"You can't actually look at yourself, though. It's not possible. You're just going to have to take my word for it. You're absolutely fucking gorgeous."

"Aren't you biased, though?"

"Why, because I fancy you?" Remus nods, words leaving him again. "I don't think so. Why should it matter, though? I really bloody like you, Remus. I've been trying to make you see it for ages."

"...I thought you were joking," Remus supplies. "I don't get you, Sirius."

"I don't get you, but I still like you," Sirius answers with a shrug.

For a second, they just look at each other.

"Do you?" He asks eventually.

"Do I what?"

"D'you like me? I mean, I can take a pretty educated guess, but..." Remus shoves Sirius lightly, losing his fight against the smile creeping onto his face.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Remus nods, finally settling a little. "Can I kiss you again?" Remus' eyes widen, and any hope of the blush leaving his face goes. It returns in full force, and he doesn't manage to answer Sirius. His mouth opens and closes, before he opts for nodding once.

Thankfully, he seems a little more prepared this time. When Sirius connects their lips, Remus seems to react on impulse. He kisses Sirius back in earnest, and it's...

Fuck, it's everything Sirius could have imagined and more.

Remus' hand slides into his hair, and Sirius feels like all of his nerve endings are on fire. His lips are soft against Sirius', all safety and warmth and Merlin Sirius could do this forever.

Yeah, it took Remus a while to catch on, but what does it matter?

They got there in the end.

I need more loser remus. I need remus who has no idea how to flirt. who didn't know to react the first time the hottest guy in school kissed him so all he said was thankyou. remus who didn't realize he was dating sirius at first because why on earth would sirius want HIM. I need remus who spends all his time studying and reading. remus whos bad at interacting with literally everyone except the marauders. (who he was very awkward with at first)

i NEED that man pathetic

#i keep having no clue how to finish my oneshots #maybe i'll rewrite the ending we'll see #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

146 notes · View notes

dothestarsshine · 1 day ago

Text

don't take this the wrong way

pit fighter!vi x reader

summary: you knew your regulars. some better than others. so, when a hot mess with a bad dye job doesn't show up like she normally does, you start to get a little concerned.

time period: between 02 act 1 and 02, act 2, post jinx betting on vi.

a/n: guys bear with me this was my first time writing in a WHILE. it's probably ooc but take it anyways

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mention of drugs, drinking, reader is a bartender, rebound behavior, implied self-destruction (vi)

To say you hated your job was an understatement. You were a bartender, which was actually a pretty nice gig down in the under city. But, you were a bartender across the street from one of the biggest fighting rings in the entertainment district, which meant that every night there was a fight (which was more often than not) at approximately 2:15 AM, a horde of people would walk in, demanding drinks to either waste away like the money they just lost, or celebrate their winnings. Either way, all you knew was that it meant so. much. work. Not to mention, your shift started at 1:30, so it wasn't even like you got to soak up the calm atmosphere the bar offered before then.

You sighed to yourself as you glanced at the clock. 2:00 AM. You could hear the roars of the crow from across the street, so you knew the fight was ending soon. A few minutes later, commotion from in the street proved you right. A few regulars walked into the bar first, most wearing a sour look. You pulled out their drink from under the counter before they even had to ask.

You had gotten into the habit of pre-making drinks a while back, once you realized the post-fight pattern. So, now at about 1:45, you started making 20 or so drinks for some regulars you knew would be coming in.

The night turned into a blur as you balanced making drinks and chatting with various patrons. You didn't even notice the lack of a certain regular until it was almost 3.

A quick glance at the drink you made for her reminded you. Your head started to swivel as you looked around for her. She usually sat at the bar, but maybe she wanted to try something different. You found no trace of her, but before you could keep looking, someone ordered another drink.

It was almost 4 now, and you still had seen no sight of her. You almost wanted to say you missed her.

Dye job, as you and your co-workers called her, was a whirlwind if nothing else. She came in, had one too many drinks, and then left stumbling and slurring her words. Not to mention a few of her co-workers had had to break up fights between her and another customer. Most of your co-workers hated her, always mentioning how disruptive or demanding she was, yet you had grown rather fond of her.

She was never disruptive whenever you were working, though. Sure, at times maybe a little distracting, sitting there with her busted lip and blue eyes that didn't seem to match the rest of her persona, but never disruptive. When you weren't talking to other customers, she would strike up conversation with you, asking about your life, your job, your interests.

So, the lack of Dye job tonight almost made you a bit sad. You collected the last few serpents someone had left on the counter for you, throwing them into the register behind the counter, before throwing your rag down onto one of the many spills that littered the bar.

"Hey there." She said, her voice gruff and... horse? "You uh.. got my usual?" You spun around to face her, taking in her appearance. You've seen her on a lot of bad days, but somehow, this one seemed worse. Her right eye was swollen and bruised, along with her hands and knuckles. She had cuts above her eyes and along her lip, and you could see bruises forming... basically everywhere.

"Yeah," you say softly, reaching into the cooler (where you'd placed her drink a few hours ago), and grabbing the small glass. You placed it in front of her, yet it was immediately off the counter and into her hand the minute yours left it. "You sure that's the best use of alcohol right now? Looks like your face needs some more than your liver." You say smugly, before returning to mopping up the surface of the bar.

"Here I thought bartenders didn't judge." She said sharply, her voice cutting through the silence of the now quiet bar. No one was drinking at 4:37 AM. Well, no one except her.

"Whoever told you that was lying. We judge the most." You say lightly, chuckling a bit as you continue cleaning. You were supposed to close at 6, but with the lack of clientele, who was to say you couldn't start to close a bit earlier. She got a bit quiet after that, and you were worried you had said something wrong. She just finished her drink.

"You wanna make me another?" She asks, though you knew you couldn't really tell her no. You make quick work of pouring her another, giving her slightly less alcohol this time, not that she was lucid enough to notice. She grabs the cup with insane speed for someone who was so beat up.

Every time you looked at her, you could almost feel how much pain she was in. Not just physically. Physically, of course, but also emotionally.

You tossed your dirty rag to the side, before pulling out a clean, new one, and pouring a bit of vodka into a glass.

Dye job lets out a quick chuckle at that, before making a snide comment. "Drinking on the job? Am I that much of a-- GOD!" She hisses as you push the rag up towards the cut above her eye, jumping back away from you. "Janna, you don't just do those things without asking."

"If I asked were you gonna say yes?"

"No."

"So I didn't. Ever heard the phrase better to ask forgiveness than permission?"

"You can't just go around messing with people like that!" She exclaims, almost animatedly. You prepared a reply, but then she added, quieter now: "I'm already miserable enough. Can't you just let me be?"

"It doesn't matter how miserable you are; those wounds are still going to get infected."

"Yeah, well maybe I deserve it."

Listen, you sure as hell weren't a therapist, but you knew that type of thinking couldn't be good.

You sighed a bit, before responding, "I'm not sure I believe that."

“Listen, I don’t come here for fucking therapy,” she starts, her words laced with a venom that you haven’t heard from her before, “I come here for a fucking drink, so back off.” She finishes, sliding back into her bar stool.

Your heart starts to sink with guilt. For some reason, you didn’t know, you felt bad for having obviously crossed a boundary. You started to worry: was she going to leave now? Never come back? Only come back when you weren’t working?

“You owe me a drink for that shit.” She sighs, and you feel your heart begin to lighten at her joking tone.

“Sorry, sorry.” You start, a more profuse apology almost slipping from your lips before she speaks again.

“Nah,” she says, shrugging you off. “You’re probably right. It’s just been a uh… well hard few months now.” She sighs, downing the last of her drink. Another one slides itself into her hands, and she throws you a dangerous smirk. You feel your heart lighten, the same way it did a few moments ago.

“Hey, I uhh. I get it. I’ve been there too,” you say softly, your head filling with unpleasant thoughts of a time you’ve long since wanted to forget about. You don’t even notice when Dye job’s eyes land on your face, studying you.

The two of you sit there in silence for a second. You, lost in thoughts of something else, and her studying you. She watches you, taking in every part of your face, your lips, your cheeks, and Janna your eyes.

“I guess that’s how you end up working at a bar at 5 in the morning on a Tuesday,” you smile at her, hoping that your horrible attempt at a joke wasn’t too painfully obvious. (It was, don’t worry.)

She meets your eyes at that. The silence falls upon you both once again, this time a comfort, rather than a division.

“So, Dye job, you got a name?” You start, after a moment, your hands placing another glass upside down on the rack above you.

“Dye job?” She repeats, almost offended. “Oh come on, it ain’t that bad.” She says, suddenly running her hands through her hair.

“I mean, sure. Maybe when you first started coming in, but now…” you trail off, about to lace your hands through her hair to show her what you mean when you remember. Your hand stops midair, before you realize that you need to do something with your hand, so you awkwardly go to place it behind your head.

You however, were not slick, and she most definitely noticed. She chuckles at your attempt at hiding it, but she decides to leave it be.

“Violet.” She says suddenly, and you almost can’t remember what your original question was. Then it sinks in. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your mouth.

“Oh come on!” She chastises. “I didn’t pick it.” That doesn’t help. Once you finally regain your composure, you turn towards her again.

“No, I just– I mean Violet does not suit you. Like at all.” You say, staring at the angst filled woman sitting in front of you, comparing her to her namesake, purples and blacks clashing in your mind. ‘

“What about you, bartender, you got a name?” She diverts the conversation, and you respond with your name. She repeats it a few times, you hearing your name a way you haven’t ever before. She laces it with curiosity, with desire. “Unfortunately, that suits you.” She prods.

You turn away from her for a second, needing to place the glass that you were drying under the bar on the other side, leaving her and her thoughts alone to contemplate.

“What time do you guys, uh, close?” She starts, her voice carrying a wave of hesitancy that you hadn’t heard from her yet tonight.

“Technically, 6 AM. But no one ever comes in between 5 and 6, so usually I’m good to go at like 5:15-ish. Why, you want another drink?”

“No, I was uh, gonna ask if you were chill with me hanging here until you guys close.”

“Oh, uh yeah. Sure. That isn’t gonna be much longer. You sure you’re gonna be able to get out of that chair?” You tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” She says, her tone carrying a lightness it didn’t beforehand. You formulate a response, but she cuts you off. “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but would you wanna do this again?”

“I’m here every Monday, Thursday and Friday night,” you shrug, honestly a bit surprised she didn’t already know.

“No I meant, uh, not here.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh. Uh–”

“Listen you don’t have too–”

“Sure.”

“I promise– what?”

The two of you bounced off each other like tennis balls.

“I said sure.”

“You promise you aren’t just saying that? Listen I get if this is just a work thing–”

“Violet,” you caught her attention, her eyes reflecting a look that not many have seen, “I promise.”

She gave you the slightest smirk at that, before she made a motion to get up from her perch at the bar.

“I guess I'll see you on Thursday.” She says, tipping a hat she wasn’t wearing at you.

“Don’t let those wounds get infected!” You call out after her.

“No promises!” You hear her faint voice, accompanied by the sound of receding footsteps.

Suddenly, you were alone. Suddenly, you felt yourself waiting for the next time you had work, the job you hated seeming more bearable. You place the last glass upside down to dry, before gathering your stuff and locking the door, not dreading the next time you had to walk through these doors.

#arcane #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi arcane #pit fighter vi #x reader #arcane x reader

43 notes · View notes

things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 2 days ago

Note

May I request some Dominant bottom Adam?

Adam pinning Lucifer and just riding him to next Sunday would be nice to read. Like it's a domestic kinda thing where single father Lucifer is this embarrassed preschool teacher and Adam is a single father of two twin boys. (I'd love to imagine Adam as trans)

It could start with one of Adams boys getting in trouble and Adam being called to the school where Lucifer explains to Adam what happened. And Lucifer is just a blushing mess because Adam is so cool and hot. Adam of course is upset and asks Lucifer what needs to happen to fix this and Lucifer suggests that one of the twins help around the class and Adam could help for any fundraiser the school hosts.

Which is what sparks their interactions to a relationship.

Especially since Adam thinks the short teacher is kinda hot, especially when he rolls up his sleeves and Adam sees Lucifer forearms and strong hands. Imagining those hands gripping onto his hips while Adam rides his coc—

👉👈

OOOOU. A treat.~

Adam groaned as he walked into the school, Cain had gotten himself detention from misbehaving in his Science teachers class. How many times does he have to tell that boy to behave?

He knocked on the classroom door, it was already open but he was just being polite.

Lucifer looked up and smiled, he was taken aback by the beautiful man standing in his doorway.

Lucifer: Mr. Kadmon?

Adam walked over to take a seat: Yes, you're Cain's teacher?

Lucifer extended his hand: Yes.

Adam shook it and noted the form grip. He couldn't help but be enamoured with Lucifer, he looked a little lost and flustered as he spoke which Adam found oddly cute.

Lucifer was trying to focus on the task at hand, explaining why Adams's son was misbehaving but he was so distracted by how attractive he was. This was so unprofessional he should focus.

Not that Adam was boating any better, all he could think about was pinning this handsome man to his bed, ravishing his skin, making him moan and whimper in his bed, as he rides his-

Lucifer: Mr. Kadmon?

Adam blinked, oh right: I'm sorry this happened Mr. Morningstar, but is a weeks detention worth it?

Lucifer: Well, it might be a bit harsh..... But he keeps interrupting my class and making rude comments.

Adam: ..... I'll have a good talk with him, he's been going through a time since his dad left.

He crossed his legs and leaned on the desk.

Lucifer gulped, so Adam was single?

Lucifer: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Adam shrugged: Don't be, he was a dead beat. Are you sure there's nothing I can do to shorten his detention?~

Lucifer: Well...... There is a fundraiser for the school coming up. It would be a great help if you and the boys helped out. And I could consider his time there forgiven for his detention.

Adam smiled: That sounds great.

When Adam left he partly wanted to thank his son for basically introducing him to his future spouse.

The fundraiser was a bake sale, which was easy enough and nothing too crazy.

Adam and the boys were to help Lucifer with his table and basically making sure no one steals any goodies.

Though Adam couldn't keep his eyes off of Lucifer's buns...... And the why his dress shirt sleeves showing off his forearms.

He wanted him carnally.

Lucifer: Ooooh shit!~

Adam smirked, his hands had Lucifer's wrists pinned to the bed as he rode his cock, he was going to milk him for all he's worth.

Adam: You like that baby?~

He let one hand go to Lucifer's hair allowing him to place his free hand on Adams hip. He clenched around Lucifer making him moan.

Lucifer: Y-yeah!~

Adam leaned down kissing him, it was even better than he ever imagined.

He's never been so grateful for his kid getting detention.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #adam x lucifer #ask

20 notes · View notes

koririmao · 3 days ago

Text

~~~~

daeho sat on the bottom bunk, shivering, knees pulled tightly against his chest. his face was buried in them, his entire body tense like a coiled spring.

from across the room, nari watched.

*what's that hot marine getting the nerves for?*

a mischievous smirk curled on her lips.

silently, she approached him—then, without warning, patted his shoulder.

"hey."

daeho jolted violently, his head snapping up, eyes wide with panic.

"i-i-i’m s-s-sorry, i-i-i..." he stammered, looking like a complete wreck.

nari raised a brow. *a marine, scared?*

"you okay?" she asked, glancing at the ink peeking out from his sleeve. a marine tattoo. he followed her gaze and quickly pulled down his sleeve, as if trying to hide it.

"y-yeah... i-i’m fine…" he muttered, looking away in shame.

but his trembling hands and the fear laced in his voice told a different story.

nari sighed and plopped down beside him.

"you know," she said gently, "even soldiers in world war i were scared for their lives. but in the end, they still fought. it wasn’t the absence of fear that made them brave—it was their selflessness. their willingness to protect the people they loved."

she smiled and placed a comforting hand atop his.

daeho tensed. his gaze flickered to their hands, his cheeks tinged pink. he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

"it’s not that," he murmured. "the guns just... they remind me of that day. i lost my friends. they were like family to me. but those bastards shot them down without a second thought." his voice broke, his body trembling.

nari didn't hesitate.

she pulled him into a tight embrace, letting him bury his face in her shoulder.

"shh… it's alright," she whispered, her fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. "just let it all out. i got you."

daeho clutched onto her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. his quiet sobs muffled against her tracksuit, hot tears soaking into the fabric.

none of that mattered.

right now, all nari wanted was to take care of the boy with the ponytail crying in her arms.

after a while, his breathing steadied. He sniffled, pulling away slightly to meet her gaze.

"t-thank you…" he muttered. "w-what’s your name?"

nari's soft smile slowly curled into a smirk.

the hands that had been caressing his back slid up, fingertips tracing over his neck and chest.

"oh, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, baby," she purred, leaning in. "after this game, my name is the only thing you’ll remember."

daeho swallowed hard, his blush deepening.

~~~~

Timeline: After the Pentathlon Game

daeho was busy adjusting his tracksuit and smoothing out his ponytail, so focused on his task that he barely noticed the blue-haired girl approaching.

"oh, nari! you made it!" he looked up, relief washing over his face. "i'm so glad you did!"

he raised his hand for a high five, his ears tinged pink.

nari smirked. she lifted her hand—but instead of meeting his palm, she reached up and ruffled his hair, messing up the neat ponytail he had just fixed.

"good job in gonggi earlier," she said casually.

daeho blinked, then blushed deeper. "a-ah, t-thank you! y-you saw? i-i thought we were—"

"you're really skilled with your hands," she cut in, her voice dripping with playful insinuation.

at first, daeho took the compliment at face value, nodding earnestly—until the meaning behind her words clicked.

his eyes widened slightly, and the faint red on his cheeks deepened into a full flush. he gulped. "a-ah… y-yes… t-thank you…"

he started fiddling with his fingers, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

nari giggled.

"cute," she cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek.

daeho let out a tiny, embarrassed whimper.

"aww, what’s the matter, baby? can’t handle a few compliments, hm?” she giggled teasingly, running her fingers down his neck and across his chest.

his breath hitched. “n-nari, please…” he practically cried out, like a submissive pup begging for relief.

“please what, daeho? i wanna hear you say it,” she demanded, her nails raking across his chest, sending shivers down his spine. he winced, a mix of pain and pleasure, and grabbed her wrist before she could draw blood.

“please… take me… now,” he was breathless, sweat beading on his forehead, his ragged breathing the only sound between them.

having him exactly where she wanted him, nari smirked, a predatory glint in her eyes, and tugged on his hand. “follow me,” she winked, a silent promise of the pleasure to come, and dragged him out of the room and towards the dimly lit men’s bathroom.

“hey, you can’t be in here—” a confused voice called out, but they ignored the protest, shoving past the startled player.

they burst into a cubicle, the metallic click of the lock echoing in the small space. nari wasted no time, pushing him none-too-gently onto the closed toilet bowl.

daeho’s eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he watched her kneel before him, her gaze intense. she flicked her tongue out suggestively, a silent invitation to the feast that awaited him.

“n-nari…” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “shhh…” she soothed, her fingers tracing the outline of his thighs before she mercilessly tugged his pants down to his ankles, trapping him.

she giggled, a throaty, seductive sound, as she saw the impressive tent straining against his boxers. “cute, i haven’t even touched you there yet,” she teased, tapping the tip with her soft finger, making him squirm helplessly on the unforgiving plastic of the toilet seat.

“a-ahh~ nari~” he whined, his control slipping, making her laugh, a sound that was both mocking and enticing.

“alright, alright, i’ll stop teasing… for now,” she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. she slowly, deliberately, pulled his boxers down, his erection springing free, slapping against her face with a life of its own. a lewd gasp escaped her lips.

then, she licked her lips, her eyes never leaving his engorged member. “mmm, i knew marines carried such big packages,” she growled, her voice husky, as she stroked his entire length from base to tip, teasing him with the edge of her nail.

he whimpered and whined, squirming on his precarious perch. “n-nari~!”

she bunched up her hair, her expression one of mock frustration. “aww, i don’t have a hair tie,” she pouted, her eyes drifting upwards to meet his, and a wicked smirk slowly spread across her face.

she stood up, her movements fluid and sensual, and tugged playfully on his hair, earning a desperate moan from his lips. with a swift movement, she stole the hair tie from his hair.

then, she used it to tie her own hair back into a high ponytail, the movement drawing his attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

“thanks,” she winked, flicking her tongue out again, the gesture pure invitation, before lowering herself once more.

“now… where were we?” she whispered, her hot breath fanning his sensitive tip, driving him closer to the edge.

daeho inhales sharply as nari’s warm, wet mouth envelops his hardening cock. his head falls back against the wall with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

he reaches down to tangle his fingers in her hair, guiding her movements. “fuck yes, just like that, nari” hisses through clenched teeth. “your mouth feels so fucking good wrapped around my dick.” daeho’s hips start to rock subtly, fucking nari’s face with shallow thrusts as she sucks him off.

he groans deeply, voice rough with lust. “keep sucking, princess. get my cock nice and hard for that tight little cunt of yours.” he pulls her off him suddenly, admiring how her lips glisten with saliva and his pre-cum.

daeho grabs nari’s hair tighter, holding her in place as he starts to thrust faster, fucking her face with deep, powerful strokes.

he groans loudly, dark eyes boring into hers intensely. “take it all, you filthy girl. i know you fucking love choking on my big cock!” his balls slap against her chin with each rough thrust.

daeho’s eyes darken with lust and dominance as he holds nari in place, forcing her to take every thick inch of his throbbing cock.

nari gags and sputters around daeho’s thick cock stretching her throat, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. but she doesn't pull away. instead, she takes him deep, nose pressed against his pelvis, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal.

daeho groans, the sound rumbling through his chest as he holds nari in place, her nose pressed against his skin. he grinds his hips, making her take every last inch.

daeho smirks wickedly, enjoying the sight of nari struggling to take his thick cock. daeho grins wickedly. “that's it, take it all like the cock-hungry slut you are.” he holds nari's head down, making her deepthroat his entire length as he grinds his pelvis against her face.

after a moment, he yanks her off his spit-slicked shaft. daeho chuckles darkly as nari surfaces, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the swollen head of his cock. grips her hair tighter, forcing her to look up at him with tear-filled eyes as he smirks down at her. “not so high and mighty now, are you, princess?”

he pulls her off completely, his rock hard shaft slapping against her cheek as he strokes himself. he chuckles darkly. “ah ah ah, not yet princess”. he smacks her cheek with his thick shaft before rubbing the leaking tip across her lips, smearing them with his pre-cum.

he leans down, voice a low growl in her ear. “i'm not done using this pretty mouth of yours yet.” he shoves his cock back past her lips, gripping her hair tighter as he starts to fuck her face in earnest.

daeho sets a brutal pace, the obscene sound of him slamming into nari’s throat filling the room. he grins sadistically as he feels her struggle against him.

he pulls out abruptly, a rope of saliva snapping between her gasping mouth and his spit-shined cock.

sneers down at her. “still think you can handle me, slut?” he smacks her cheek with his spit-slicked shaft. “because i’m just getting started with you.”

-end-

#squid game #squid game 2 #au #alternate universe #oc #original character #oc x canon #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #write #writes #fiction #fan fiction #smut #kang daeho #daeho #daeho x reader #player 388

36 notes · View notes

bixels · 9 months ago

Note

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

#i was a diehard pharmercy shipper back then btw #the inherent homoerotic experience of pharmercy gameplay.#the homoerotic experience of looking to the skies to fly to safety under the protection of your knight in shining armor #the homoerotic experience of feeling white hot murderous rage at an enemy trying to pick off your pocket mercy #i still kinda despise gency lmao. you cannot convince me mercy would be in love with genji. at all.#he'd make her feel so uncomfortable and guilty. in my head. the canon is obviously different #gency is sexless. absolutely zero bite or tension.#i could go on about mercy and how her character has so much missed potential #i'm no longer in my overwatch fandom phase but #i still think about that new flirty line they added in ow2 where mercy goes “ahh you're like my knight in shining armor!”#and pharah goes “that's what i'm goin for ;)” and i sigh dreamily #really happy that pharah outright says she's a lesbian too but it's hard to feel good about rep when you know blizzard uses it for pr #to be honest i'm willing to bet cash that blizzard's keeping pharmercy in their back pocket as ammo for the next controversy #last year we already saw logs about pharah fretting and taking care of mercy and the two talking about how good it is to see each other #tbh pharah has the same energy/demeanor as applejack. cheerful and competitive in a can of whoopass #but yeah overall pharah's a pretty shallow character. i have IDEAS on how i'd go about deepening her but. whatever #that's sorta what happens when you have to juggle a cast of 40 characters. a lot get left with the bare minimum #ok so i wrote this entire post up saying that pharah isn't in ow2's storymode when she is. she's in the story i just. forgot #because she doesn't do or contribute anything interesting #ok i'm stopping here. overwatch's story is such an interesting narrative mess i could go on for hours #i dunno how you come up with such incredible character designs and give them such an unincredible story #it's also so so so interesting seeing the conflicting takes on characters the writers have #mercy in gameplay and voicelines is peppy and cheerful and optimistic #but mercy in the storymode journal logs is tired. jaded. a total shut in who forgets to leave her room and social #and YES! THAT'S WHAT I WANT!!! THAT'S MERCY TO ME!!! THE DOCTOR WHO FORGETS TO TAKE CARE OF HERSELF #ask me #anon

125 notes · View notes

lemonlovemeanslove · 1 month ago

Text

Coffee Prince is like such an easy go-to example as to why genderqueer AFAB x cis man relationships are in fact queer, like thats in their nature. The show is a queer show about queer romance, about sexuality and gender and the complex, complex ways these things interact with culture and intense feelings. The sworn brother oath is such a great way to exemplify how we use socially accepted concepts of intimacy between men to justify (both to others but mostly to ourselves) why the feelings we feel for that particular person are so intense. When Eun Chan cried "I am neither man or woman," that is a confession. The ''whether you're a man or an alien'' line I have more complicated feelings with.

(Context: I've grown up in the Middle East in a very conservative circle. I say this now because when I tell you I KNOW misogyny and homophobia, I mean I KNOW misogyny and homophobia, and have in my youth consumed a lot of East Asian media where I have definitely noticed a kind of trend in many different genres. Because of misogyny, there is for a lot of women with a kind of fantasy of being loved despite being female. The man-woman relationship is so loaded with so much angst and patriarchy that there is this kind of underlying feeling that you aren’t liked for you, that you are seen for your gender and what it’s supposed to look like, to the point where it’s hard to want to project yourself into a typical F x M dynamic, because you can really only associate it with the patriarchal ideal you so wish to avoid for yourself.)

But anyways, that line to me is also hinting to this: hey, this isn’t just my kind of strange and confused coming out because I feel strange and confused, but also you, Eun Chan, are something out of binary that my subconscious has kind of picked up on but that I right now don’t really have the words for or even awareness of. Eun Chan sometimes wants to be perceived as female—or rather, as a ''girl'' sparkle sparkle—but only when looking for or wanting male validation. (This might seem contradictory to the italicized section, but it actually isn’t. Wanting to escape the role of the female completely but still craving the attention you have been taught to chase actually go very much hand in hand with each other.) Eun Chan is always performing gender when they need to. When they don’t, it isn’t brought up. It isn’t given a name, it just is.

Yes, I know it’s an older drama from a conservative country, but that doesn’t mean none of this was intended. And despite intent, it doesn’t make it less valid.

The drama is thoughtful and is open to complexities, half-truths, and almosts. Cut to ANYTHING between Han Yoo-joo and Han-sung. When I say I want complex female characters, I’m talking about Han Yoo-joo—what a fucking scene-stealer. Anyways, I’m rewatching the drama since I first saw it at 15 because my life is in turmoil, and yeah, it still hits.

#coffee prince #Eun Chan #Han Gyul #also if im picking I sooooo want to date han yoo joo girl is sooo messy in the best way #looove her #second or like same place im picking han sung and yeah i know hes a misogynist #i have a lot of thoughts on this too #classic u love me for everything you hate me for type #classic im an artist but cant handle my artist gf #not to reduce han yoo joo to just the art gf shes sm more than that but another post maybe #and yeah #we can also have a discussion about idealized androgyny #another time maybe #but back to my point i want han sung baaaaad #his voice is so hot and his ways so weird #obsessed with the giant stone horses he keeps in his garden #lowkey would date just for the house #i have dreams that take place in that house completely separate from the drama #my one big big gripe with this show which i have to mention is the mess that is Min-yeop and Eun-sae #i simpley pretend not to see #and yes ultimetly i am giving my graces and more credit than is desreved #also no it being cheaply made is not a dig its part of the charm...

21 notes · View notes

dramas-vs-novels · 4 months ago

Text

Hey Fort? It's hot out here, right?

"Yes, it's Thailand, so-?"

Yeah... just a second, can you hold this with your face a moment?

*sticks a strip of Gaff tape right between his eyes.*

Just, like, for 15 seconds.

*waits while it gets hot*

Perfect.

*rips the gaff tape- and his unibrow- off*

#love in the air #lita #prapai #side note just because it's a rookie mistake #BabyCousin (Peat's age) and I have a bit of a gift war with Xmas each year #i started it- i wrapped her gift in 13 layers of paper and tape and when she finally got down to it #the card was empty and I had her gift in my pocket #she tried to kill me with scissors #anyways #when she was in college she wrapped my gift in gaff tape because she had a part time job in a theater #gaff tape is insanely sticky don't fuck with it we use it constantly #and i wrapped hers with simple packing tape #she was so proud of herself because gaff take is a pain in the ass #and I just look at it; then look outside at the snow; and asked if she left it in her car #she was like '? yeah? so ?'#one good yank and it was open easy as can be #I handed her gift to her and said 'next time use a hair dryer'#it took an hour for her to get that bitch open #you want to fuck with someone- always heat the tape #gaff tape especially turns into just about a solid brick if it gets hot #i hate using gaff someone left out in the heat; you'll get blisters even trying to pull 6 inches #which is a random ass tangent to go on on this post but if you've read this far then now you know the trick to really messing with tape #Watch

8 notes · View notes

batsplat · 8 months ago

Note

from the stuff i’ve heard marc’s former honda teammates (dani jorge and pol in their media careers but joan also i guess) say about him now that they’re racing is generally quite positive, both on a professional/riding level but also seemingly on a personal level? i’m wondering what you make of that given that, yeah, marc doesn’t seem like a very good teammate (unless you’re alex who i’ve left off this list). like MARC wants to separate on and off track stuff and it seems like all of these guys are willing too at least in retrospect, so he can’t have truly burned bridges with them. do you have any thoughts on that

(x, x) most riders are quite good at not burning bridges with each other! it's not like marc's competitors don't know that this stuff is kinda part of the game. I mean, all of marc's past teammates were also trying to assert themselves within the internal hierarchy... you can say that certain teammates engage in 'worse' behaviour than others, but, like, these people do understand they're supposed to be fighting each other! a baseline degree of nastiness is factored in and will be accepted to a greater or lesser extent by your rivals - especially when it comes to asserting yourself in intra-team power struggles. you might hate the other guy in the moment, but generally speaking once the active part of the rivalry is done with... you will probably get over it. marc's fellow riders are aware of how ultra-competitive marc is - and to a certain point they do respect it, not least because they're aware that this is part of the reason why marc has ended up with all those titles. it's like dani said, right, it's marc's strong suit. and in general, you do have to say that there's relatively few teammate pairings that devolve to the level of toxicity that it completely destroys the interpersonal relationship. you might need some level of preexisting animosity... most of the purely competitive sins can be healed with a little time

on the 'separating on-track and off-track' thing... well. this is kind of a question of how you define these things, you can say that marc generally speaking isn't going to massively hold grudges over isolated on-track incidents or whatever... but he doesn't just leave his fighting to the track, and personally I've also never felt he can entirely separate these things out in his mind. can you really say his professional and private relationships with other riders are completely detached from one another? mostly, he's opted to be pretty disengaged from his fellow riders as a collective, and obviously that's a good way to not take things too personally... it's all part of the game, isn't it? sometimes it's good to go with the straightforward approach: marc tells you he will make your life hell, he does indeed make your life hell, and then you both move on with your lives and can maybe actually have a pretty amiable relationship with him in years to come. he's not really defying your expectations at any point here, is he now? it's still a question for each of them as individuals as to whether they think that kind of behaviour is above board and acceptable or not... but everyone by now knows that marc plays these games, so it's not like they're going in blind

and it's not like other former teammates are constantly badmouthing each other. I mean... look, let's just cut to the chase here and bring in valentino as our reference point (as he is for the sport as a whole, which by the way does also help create a certain baseline of acceptability for marc's antics - maybe goated riders are just supposed to be dicks who knows). vale's premier class teammates were 1) nobody (2000-01), 2) tohru ukawa (2002), 3) nicky hayden (2003; 2011-12), 4) carlos checa (2004), 5) colin edwards (2005-2007), 6) jorge lorenzo (2008-10; 2013-16), 7) maverick vinales (2017-20), 8) franco morbidelli (2021), and 9) andrea dovizioso (2021). of these eight men (let's just exclude 'nobody' for now), do you know how many had serious complaints at any point about valentino as a teammate? that's right, it's one guy. one. some of valentino's other teammates, like hayden, checa and edwards, were even quite actively positive about their whole experience. this is the thing - you do need some specific circumstances for teammate rivalries to escalate from 'being kinda bitchy every other month' to 'actively fantasising about stabbing each other'. not accounting for natural interpersonal animosity, let's list some circumstantial factors that you need to get a bridge-burning-worthy level of feud:

you need a competitive bike. it is possible to beef about development direction when you're in the trenches (cf late 2010's yamaha, 2020's honda)... but generally speaking this is going to be quite low-level petty stuff, not actual war

you also need something that approaches competitiveness between teammates. if one teammate is unquestionably stronger than the other one, then it is very unlikely that you are going to get any open hostilities. the tension comes when the two sides are close enough to each other for the internal hierarchy to actually be a contentious issue (this is also basic self preservation... if you're the far weaker teammate then you do not want to make the situation troublesome, because then you will be the one to be fired)

following on from those first two things... well, it doesn't hurt to have a title fight in the mix. there are also other ways you can generate competitive stakes, like, for instance, if you and your teammate know that one of you will be out of a job soon. basically, it helps to have something to squabble over

it is maybe easy to forget how rare it is this century for teammates to be fighting directly for a title, let alone over the course of multiple seasons. only two 1-2's since the year 2000 and they're both for the factory yamaha's (though 2006, 2011-13 and 2017 did all prominently feature two factory hondas). which means that for valentino, the prerequisites were met just the once in his premier class career... and yes, the results were pretty memorable, but (topic! for! another! post!) it's worth pointing out that even that relationship was pretty much 'fine' whenever there was a sizeable disparity between the two of them performance-wise (2008 and 2013 are the most clear cut examples). I think the way I'd frame it with marc is that he has a bunch of mildly dubious strategies up his sleeve to assert himself within the team, which don't really deviate that far from what you'd expect from a rider of marc's calibre and only need to be escalated under specific circumstances. that doesn't mean he doesn't have the potential to be ruthless, but up until now it's mostly been a fairly 'acceptable' level of ruthlessness on the intra-team level... and not something that is likely to make other riders actually hate him

taking marc's teammates one by one... dani was the closest to meeting the bridge-burning prerequisites, though he was only a title rival in marc's rookie season. and marc did go further with him than he did with anyone else, and dani has made some pointed comments about marc's style as a teammate... but yes, he is fonder of marc these days. partly I'd just emphasise again that this is a fairly natural progression when you've stopped directly competing for long enough, and partly it's also just a question of individual personality - dani's not massively into holding grudges. then there's jorge, who... I mean, they might as well not have been teammates, given that jorge was either too slow or too injured to even be sharing any track space with marc. you have to put that one down primarily to circumstance, seeing as jorge's own track record on the teammate front isn't exactly spotless. marc and jorge beefing in 2019 would have been pretty dumb and also a massive waste of everyone's time in a year in which marc singlehandedly won the team's championship. even those two needed more to get things going

moving on to the dark years, pol and marc had an extremely stop-and-start partnership on a honda that was generally pretty uncompetitive... so the only stuff they could get ever so mildly irritable about were riveting incidents like 'marc saying pol wasn't the biggest championship threat' (neither of them were) or 'pol saying he'd copy marc's set up' (which proved entirely useless). not exactly title decider territory, is it now, and marc very much had pol covered as a challenger throughout their partnership. also, those two do have a longer history! they've known each other since they were kids and hold a pretty significant place in each other's careers. now that pol's more or less retired, it's natural there'll be quite a lot of sentimentality there - which will paper over any small cracks that appeared during those two years. and joan was a one year teammate at a time in which the bike was consistently close to offing them both. they only managed to start a sunday race together as teammates on thirteen occasions. it would take some serious effort to engineer a feud with that little opportunity, and, really, why on earth would you bother. maybe if honda had gone for rinsy rather than joan for the factory seat, it could've been a bit more prickly, but it's unlikely that it would have escalated beyond that

this is the thing, right, the only one of these partnerships that would have been worth burning bridges over was dani, and even there marc pretty much had him handled after the first season. in general, marc has been pretty clear on how he's not interested in making friends with the other side of the garage while the teammate relationship is ongoing... which is fine! there's some prominent-ish teammate pairings that are actually good friends, some teammate pairings where one of them is actively helping out and advising the other one, but some riders prefer to just keep their distance. it would have been a little silly of marc to start a feud with a teammate who is galaxies away from being a competitive threat, let alone a title rival, but generally it is possible to toe the line between 'attempting to suppress your internal rivals enough to stop them from becoming a problem for you' and 'taking radical enough action to make your internal rivals despise you'

especially in the post-dani era, marc never really had any need to push things too far... and, let's face it, how many of your teammate relationships end up with burnt bridges is also quite frankly a question of luck and circumstance. do you want to guess which top rider on paper has the worst track record this century with premier class teammate feuds, in terms of a) how many they've had, and b) how little public reconciliation there has been since the end of the rivalry?

yes, that's right, it's the first name that comes to mind when you're thinking of toxic and conflict-prone riders: andrea dovizioso. that old devil, constantly causing trouble. just couldn't stop undermining his poor, innocent teammates. can somebody please stop this ruthless bully before it's too late

I think you get the point. I would personally suggest that dovi is not in fact the worst teammate it is possible to have in a motogp top team. he just happened to find himself in a situation where he was teammates with two separate guys he did not click with at all, in situations that involved a pairing of riders who were (or had the potential to be) competitive with each other, as well as some proper stakes attached to the rivalry. in general, situational factors are going to determine this stuff more than anything else... and marc more often than not does have a reasonably good feel for picking his battles. he's flirted with the line, but he's mostly avoided crossing it. he hasn't had to

#'joan also i guess' hold on now anon that's his former teammate relationship that's most important to ME i love them...#elephant in the room is 'let's revisit this in 1.5 years time'. ik people will try to make that just about the vr46 factor but *shrug*#i kinda feel like maybe i should have mentioned in the casey/marc post that casey is arguably more of an outlier than marc is #like his alienation with the sport ran deep which is how you get him engaging in melandri slander who was pee one million in 2008 #y'know casey/jorge ducati was a real possibility for a hot second and my take on that would ALSO be 'hm yeah maybe not <3'#ESPECIALLY given that it's quite likely the incoming jorge would've been paid way way more than casey was ('09 ducati... let's not even)#AND given how yamaha had repeatedly burnt casey and then handed jorge the seat on a silver platter... like idk man!!#genuinely fascinating '10 counterfactual... i do like casey/marc but i've also game planned casey/vale and casey/jorge i'm a completionist #(either dani or vale would've likely won the title in that timeline. but crucially casey/jorge interpersonally would've been. well)#//#brr brr #//at #batsplat responds #//mt #i need an ask tag so badly but i can't be bothered to back tag... i'll do it at some point #in my notes i did once actually rank the aliens by how much they'd suck as teammates but the order might be a wee bit controversial #i'm sorry to the guy i ranked number one but he did objectively have the worst track record like... it has to be said #i think u have like. different modes right. where how bad u are as a teammate is scaled to how big the threat ur facing is #now EYE actually think marc's not got a particularly *great* neutral mode either but it's not bridge-burning mode #also what even is a burnt bridge... i mean god knows even valentino and jorge are taking photos together these days...#jorge's still conducting autopsies of old beef every fortnight but otoh he's joking about motegi on instagram which is crazyyyyyy #you genuinely cannot. CANNOT convince me that if marc/jorge had had a title fight as teammates it wouldn't have been a MESS #there is literally no way. none whatsoever #and if i said dani had a higher number of strained premier class teammate relationships than valentino did... what then...

17 notes · View notes