#* / the devil’s in the details ( replies )

[communistkenobi]

I do genuinely enjoy pedantry and quibbling and disagreeing with fine-grained details of every sentence ever uttered as any good marxist does, the problem is that tumblr is a horrific platform to nurture that enjoyment on and turns all of us into grand dogmatists where any quibble is a sign of enemy infiltration

[amethystina]

Hey! That ask you answered about protective Yo Han reminded me of this gem from the script book. I don't know if you're interested in anything script-related, but in case you are, here it is. A slightly different way the scene in E3 was supposed to go, when Yo Han came to the factory and attacked the man who put a bomb in the painting. (Also, 'forced' means 'Yo Han', all translators use this word instead of his name for some reason).

Personally, I loved the "do you know who you hurt?", the madness "increasingly" filling Yo Han's eyes, and him glaring at K when he asked if this was about Ga On. I'm amazed that he got so protective of him so quickly, it's just E3. To think of what he'd do post-canon... thank God (and you, of course!) for your amazing story. I can't tell you how much I'm waiting for everything you're going to bring down on us.

Hope you're doing better!

I haven't gone out of my way to look for the script, no, but I do read the little snippets I might run into on Tumblr and such. So I'm not NOT interested? But also too lazy to go look for it xD

And, tbh, I don't want to accidentally mistake something that was written in the script — but then taken out — as something that actually happened in canon. I have a really good memory but I don't always remember WHERE I read/saw/heard a specific fact so there's a chance I might mistake it as a part of canon even if it's not x'D

But, all that said, I am FASCINATED by this new information, not going to lie. I think that the increasing madness was still captured pretty well in the final version, but the "Do you know who you hurt?" Oh yes, I'm into that. Because while it COULD still just mean that Yo Han is referring to himself, I like that it leaves room for speculation. Very nice.

Though, at the same time, I feel like I have to be a responsible person and point out that, most likely, the reason why Yo Han reacts so violently as early as episode 3 is probably because of Isaac, not Ga On. Like, at that point, I think Yo Han is still struggling a bit with separating the two. Not that he ever mistakes them for each other, obviously, but it's probably a little disorienting until he gets to know Ga On better and can see all the differences more clearly. So it wouldn't surprise me if some of that protectiveness is because Ga On looks like Isaac, at least this early. It brings back very bad memories, and all.

But post-canon? That protectiveness would be for Ga On only. And, as always, Yo Han would hold nothing back.

And we will be exploring that a bit in Who Holds the Devil, yes. Not quite on the level of "I'm going to bring the entire country to its knees," but hopefully still enough to satisfy everyone's need for protective Yo Han ;)

Thank you so much for sending me this! I hope you have a wonderful evening 💜

[anniebeemine]

Vanilla- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: big ego AND jealous spencer, spanking, unprotected sex, oral (femrecieving), cumplay

It started out as just another gathering with the team—a casual night out after a long case, everyone laughing and unwinding at a local bar. You sat beside Spencer, enjoying the rare opportunity to relax with him and his colleagues. The conversation was light and fun, bouncing from one topic to another, until it inevitably drifted into teasing against you and Spencer. It started out like usual, some quips about when he'd pop the question or when you'll pop out a few mini geniuses. Then it shifted into a few weeks ago when you came into work with a top that was lower cut than usual, shifting to show a deep purple love bite sometime during lunch with the girls.

Spencer flushed a deep red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the table burst into laughter. "Uh, well," he stammered, "that was… an unfortunate coincidence."

You shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Unfortunate? That was all you, Doctor Reid." You leaned into him playfully.

Penelope gasped in exaggerated shock, placing a hand over her heart. "Spencer Reid, you little devil! I never would have guessed you had it in you!"

Derek clapped Spencer on the back, nearly knocking him forward with the force of it. "Man, you’re full of surprises! Didn’t think you had it in you to leave a trail. Reid, you’re probably the most wholesome guy I know."

Emily, never one to pass up on a good-natured ribbing, smirked. “Yeah, I bet your idea of a wild night is reading a book until midnight.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Spencer, always a good sport, chuckled along. But you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart twist a little. You reached under the table, squeezing his hand gently, offering silent reassurance. He glanced at you, and the warmth of your touch seemed to ease some of the discomfort, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“You know, Reid’s probably the kind of guy who apologizes during sex,” Morgan added, his tone playful but with a teasing edge. “Always so polite, probably says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ the whole time.”

Your cheeks flushed, and though you managed to keep your expression neutral, you felt a surge of protectiveness for Spencer. The image they were painting of him was so far from the truth that it almost made you want to correct them right then and there, tell them the truth of his tendencies. But you stayed quiet, your bedroom life with Spencer was private, something just for the two of you, and you had no desire to share those intimate details with anyone else—not even his closest friends.

Spencer laughed it off, making a self-deprecating joke to deflect the attention, but you could tell the teasing had gotten to him. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, offering only the occasional smile or nod as the conversation continued around him.

When you finally got home, the silence between you was thick with unspoken tension. Spencer had been quiet the whole ride back, and as soon as you closed the front door behind you, you knew it was time to address it.

“Spencer,” you began softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet since we left."

He turned to you, his expression conflicted, a mix of frustration and hurt. “It’s just… is that how they see me? As this meek, vanilla guy who can’t… who can’t be anything else?”

Your heart ached for him. “They don’t know you like I do, Spencer. They were just teasing. They don’t realize how far off they are.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling away slightly. “But you didn’t say anything. You just sat there and let them think… let them think I’m some kind of pushover.”

You sighed, understanding now where this was coming from. “Spencer, I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what happens between us. We agreed not to share that part of our relationship with them.”

“I know that,” he replied, his voice strained. “But it felt like you were agreeing with them by staying silent. Like you were okay with them seeing me that way.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “Spencer, listen to me. I don’t care what they think. I know who you are. I know how you make me feel, how you take care of me, how passionate and intense you can be. None of that needs to be proven to anyone else.” You caressed his cheekbones with your thumbs. “Besides, do you think you really want them to know how you have me bent over the back of the couch more often than not? How you have me counting out my punishments?”

His eyes softened, but there was still a lingering doubt. “But it just… it made me feel like they think I’m less of a man or something. Like I’m not enough.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are more than enough, Spencer. You’re everything I could ever want. What we have is special, and I don’t need to justify it to anyone else. They can think whatever they want, but at the end of the day, they don’t know the real you. I do.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and you could see the tension slowly start to leave his body. He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It just… got under my skin.”

You hugged him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I understand, Spencer. But remember, you’re incredible just the way you are. And I love you for it. All of it.”

Spencer nodded, the last of his frustration melting away as he held you. “Thank you. I love you too. And I’m sorry for doubting that.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel. But just know, I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

With that, the tension between you finally broke, and the two of you spent the rest of the night curled up together, letting the world outside fade away as you focused on each other, knowing that what you shared was something far deeper and more meaningful than anyone else could ever understand.

+++

Spencer had never really been the jealous type, but he was angry. Since the night of teasing at the bar, he'd been on edge.

It gnawed at him in a way he hadn't expected, chipping away at his usual calm demeanor. Since that night, there had been a subtle shift in his behavior—small things that you noticed but didn’t immediately address, hoping it would pass. But now, standing in the bar waiting for your drink, it was clear that something had snapped.

You had been leaning against the counter, waiting patiently for your order, when a stranger approached. He was confident, with a cocky smile, and placed his hand lightly on the small of your back. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, “let me get that for you.” He motioned to the bartender, offering to pay for your drink.

Before you could politely decline, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Spencer’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, and before you could even process what was happening, he was pulling you away from the bar. His grip was gentle but insistent, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by something far more intense.

The stranger barely had time to react as Spencer led you out of the bar and into a dimly lit alley beside the building. The air was cooler outside, and the sudden change in environment only heightened the tension. Spencer didn’t say a word as he pressed you against the brick wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that took your breath away. There was no hesitation in his movements—his hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any distance between you.

His kisses were fierce, demanding, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own. It was as if all the unspoken emotions from the past few days had finally found an outlet, and Spencer was pouring everything into this moment. His usual restraint was gone, replaced by a raw, desperate need to claim you, to reassure himself of your connection.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in the whirlwind of his sudden possessiveness. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body anchoring you in place.

“Spencer,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breathless. “Take me home."

His breath hitched at your words, a spark of something dangerous flaring in his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled back slightly, his hand still firmly on your hip as he nodded, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. "Let's go."

The walk back to your car was charged with anticipation, the quiet intensity between you almost palpable. Spencer’s hand remained on the small of your back, guiding you with a sense of urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The drive home was a blur, the silence between you thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Every glance he shot your way was laced with desire, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as if he could barely contain himself.

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment, Spencer was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He kicked the door shut behind you, his hands roaming your body, mapping out every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the raw need that had been building inside him finally finding release.

You barely made it to the bedroom, clothes discarded in a trail behind you, the air around you electric with anticipation. By the time you reached the bed, Spencer was a man possessed, his usual gentle touch replaced by something much more primal. He pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours in an instant, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his need for you almost overwhelming.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your waist, your arms—as he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you moan into his mouth. He was relentless, his touch both commanding and desperate, as if he needed to prove to himself, and to you, that you were his.

“God please touch me, Spence. You’re the only person who could ever make me cum. I need your mouth on me baby, please.” He looks up at you through his lashes while he bites into your thigh, sucking so hard you know there’ll be a purple bruise tomorrow.  

Before you’ve prepared, he latches his mouth onto your pussy, laying his tongue flat against you and shaking his head back and forth. You scream out, taking a fistful of his curly hair into your hand and holding on for dear life as he licks and sucks feverishly. His saliva mixed with your arousal makes an absolute mess, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. He pulls back for a moment and puts two fingers up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders and you oblige, opening and wrapping your tongue around his digits, moaning as you do. He watches you intensely and bites his lip as he imagines how you’d work him if you were sucking him off.

Once his fingers are wet, he pulls them out of your mouth and down to your core, circling a few times on your clit before pushing them into you completely. You let out a string of curse words as he curls them inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more intense, he reattaches his mouth to your hood, using his tongue to trace figure-eights. Your toes begin to curl as you feel the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

You shakily cry out his name, tugging his hair harder. The vibration from his moan brings you closer, a cry spilling from your lips. He doesn't stop, continuing his attack on your clit, his fingers picking up speed.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, holding back cries. A second orgasm washes over you, voice taken as he finally sits back, hands running over your thighs soothingly.

"You know what I was thinking about the entire night?" He asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Tell me," you said through pants. "What were you thinking of?"

"How good your ass looked today."

You chuckled. "Really?"

Spencer's lips curled into a smirk as he nodded, his eyes darkening with that familiar hunger. "Really," he confirmed, his voice low and husky as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the toned chest beneath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time you walked by, every time you leaned over, it drove me crazy."

You felt a flush of heat spread through your body at his words, a mixture of surprise and excitement. "And what did you want to do about it?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He shrugged off his shirt, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his hands once again finding their place on your hips, gripping them possessively. "How badly I want to make them sting." His lips run over your collarbone, voice dropping. "I know you like it."

You whimper, nodding. "Then do it."

As you turn over, your breath catches in anticipation, your skin tingling with the promise of what’s to come. Spencer’s hands trail down your back, gentle at first, as if savoring the moment, before they grip your hips with that familiar possessiveness.

His voice is low, almost a growl, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I’m going to make you beg for it, don’t you?"

You shiver at his words, your body reacting instinctively to the mix of dominance and tenderness in his tone. "Please, Spencer," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want it… I need it."

He lets out a low, satisfied hum, his hands sliding down to your ass, kneading the flesh before his fingers curl, and with a swift, calculated motion, he brings his hand down in a firm slap. The sharp sting spreads through you, igniting your nerves and drawing a gasp from your lips.

"How does that feel?" he asks, his voice dripping with control.

"Perfect," you manage to gasp out, the sting from his hand already sending ripples of pleasure through you.

His hand comes down again, harder this time, and you arch your back in response, biting your lip to hold back a cry. Each slap is deliberate, perfectly timed, and as the sensation builds, so does your desire. The pain is just enough to make you ache for more, to make you want to give in to everything he’s offering. Spencer’s hand continues its work, each strike sending a wave of heat and electricity through your body. Your breaths come out in ragged pants, and you can feel your entire being focused on the sensations he’s creating, on the way he’s drawing out your pleasure.

"Do you like it when I make you feel like this?" he asks, his voice husky and rough as his hand moves rhythmically against you.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice almost desperate. "I love it… I love how you make me feel, Spencer."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before his hand delivers another firm slap, making your skin burn in the best possible way. "Because I love making you feel this way."

The stinging pleasure only heightens your need for him, and as his hand continues to bring you to the edge of what you can take, you know you’re utterly and completely his. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, and you’re lost in the sensation, in the way he’s controlling your body with such expert precision. When he finally stops, his hand soothing over your stinging skin, you can’t help but whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with need. Spencer leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he murmurs against your skin, "You’re so beautiful like this. Do you want more?"

"Please," you gasp, barely able to form the words through the haze of desire that’s clouding your mind. "Please, Spencer… I need more."

His voice is a dark promise as he whispers in your ear, "Then let’s see just how much you can take."

Spencer's hands glide up your sides, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Stay still for me.”

You nod, your breath catching as you feel him shift behind you. His fingers trace the curve of your back before gripping your hips again, positioning you just how he wants. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body thrumming with a mix of pleasure and need as you wait for his next move.

He takes his time, savoring the way you’re laid out before him. His hands run over your reddened skin, soothing the sting he’d so carefully crafted moments before. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

You can only whimper in response, your voice lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. You feel his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing you just enough to make you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you need,” he commands, his voice deep and authoritative.

“You,” you gasp, barely able to form the words. “I need you, Spencer. Please.”

He chuckles softly, clearly satisfied with your response. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers dipping inside you briefly, just enough to make you moan in frustration when he pulls back. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, your body trembling with need. “Please, Spencer, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Spencer’s breath hitches at your words, his resolve almost breaking. He leans over you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he aligns himself with you. “You’re going to feel every inch of me,” he promises, his voice low and rough. “And I’m not going to stop until you’re completely spent.”

You turn over again, letting your thighs fall open, giving him a full view of your soaked cunt. "Please, Spencer."

With that, he pushes into you slowly, savoring the way you gasp and arch beneath him. The sensation of him filling you is overwhelming, the mix of pleasure and the remnants of the stinging pain creating an intoxicating blend that has you crying out in pure bliss.

Spencer sets a rhythm that’s both torturous and perfect, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips with enough force to leave marks, pulling you back to meet him with every movement. The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, the only other noise your combined moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Do you like how I’m making you feel?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. “I love it, Spencer, I love you.”

He growls in response, his pace quickening as he drives you closer to the brink. The tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap, and then, with one final, deep thrust, you’re thrown over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure so intense that you can’t help but scream his name.

“Who’s fucking you this good?” Spencer grunted, his hips slamming relentlessly against yours.

You replied with a noise just short of a scream, clinging to his biceps. He has you pretzeled underneath him, one leg slung around his hip, the other over his shoulder. The raw spots of your ass brush against his thighs with each thrust, each one a rush of excitement

He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him through hooded eyes. “What’s my name, darling?” He asked, huffing as he kept his pace up.

“Spencer!” You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Your voice gave out soon after, little squeaks escaping as you chase your high.

He pulled away, panting. “Over. All fours.”

You obliged, turning and arching your back as he propped your hips up. He slid a pillow beneath you, gripping the corners to hold your hips up. You gripped the sheets, wailing as he pushed into you again. He pumps a few times before pulling your wrists to the small of your back, pulling you so you’re back to front with him.

“Spence,” you whined, eyes screwed shut.

He laughs, actually laughs. “What are you crying for, princess?” He says, his lips grazing against your ear. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Your head falls back and you sigh as his kisses begin to get heavier, teeth involved now. You hear his wet kissing noises grow until you feel his teeth sink into your skin. You yelp, hands begging to be freed but his grip tightens.

“Don’t make me get the tie,” he threatened lowly. “I don’t want to leave your pretty little cunt empty.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don't,” you begged quietly, feeling tears roll and drop onto your chest. “I can’t-“

Spencer stopped, bottomed out. “Or maybe I should.” He began to slide out of you, leaving just the tip inside. “Good girls deserve to get fucked, but you haven’t been a good girl, have you?”

“No, Spence. I haven’t.” The gravel in your tone makes your voice unfamiliar. “But please, I’ll do whatever you want me to- anything. Just please let me cum again.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

His eyes softened. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered back.

He watches your face scrunch up then relax in pleasure as you gasp when he fully enters inside you. His palms go to the part of your thighs below your knees. He forces them to open wider, rocking gently at first.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly.

You nod and take a deep breath. Another orgasm begins, your body going rigid as your breath catches in your throat. This time he lets you finish, letting your hands go. You catch yourself on the mattress, whining as you fuck yourself back onto him. He’s stopped moving, letting you use him as his hands roam over your back as he coats the inside of your walls with his own arousal. When you’re finished, you fall forward, his cock slipping out of you in the process.

You lay like that for a few seconds, ass in the air, catching your breath. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you beg him not to touch you for a moment. Your hand is in the air, palm flat. He respects your space, showering you in compliments and thank you's. You stop him when an apology leaves his lips.

“Don’t be,” you said, eyes still closed but your voice is firm.

You can hear him smile. “Can I touch you again?”

You nodded.

Without wasting another moment, Spencer propped you up by your hips again, spreading you with both hands. Spencer sighed at the sight of your cunt, his cum slowly dripping out of you. You flinched as he ran his thumb through your folds, swiping your clit in an up and down motion. You moaned at the feeling. The coil in your abdomen tightened and released in record time, your hands twisting in the sheets as you wailed out his name again.

You flipped over, legs on either side of him. He pulled you up against him, your ass again this chest.

He let go of your clit with a pop sound just to go back and suck it even harder. Your back arching as your mouth and throat were dry from all the moaning and crying, your grip on his hair becoming tighter. You let out one loud moan, your legs shaking and squeezing Spencer’s head between them. You feel a warm gush as he pulls away, marveling at the mess he’s made. His eyes are sparkling, jaw slack as he studied how your body reacted. He licked a swipe up your folds, catching everything he could on his tongue. He leans over you, opening your mouth. You let him, nodding as you placed your hand on the back of his neck. 

He spits the mixture of his and your cum into your mouth. You swallow it down, opening your mouth to prove that it’s gone. You collapse into the bed, sticky and fucked out. Spencer stands up, picking up his boxers from the floor before going to the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later with a warmed washcloth. He drapes it over your warm cunt before using it to wipe away any of tonight’s mess. A water bottle is pressed into your hand and you let it roll out of your palm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, one hand cradling your head. 

You nod, finally opening your eyes. His hair is tousled, sticking to his forehead in some places. “I’m alright, Spencie.” 

He grinned. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

+++

The next morning, the BAU office was alive with the usual hustle, but the moment you walked in, the energy shifted. Your steps were slower than usual, each movement causing a slight grimace. As you made your way to your desk, every head turned, curiosity etched on the faces of your colleagues. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you were determined to play it cool. Sliding into your chair with a quiet hiss, you placed your jacket beneath you for some added cushion. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.

Morgan, always the first to break the silence, leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Damn, girl, what happened to you? Looks like you went ten rounds in the ring.”

Emily shot you a teasing glance, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or, more likely, someone had a very intense evening.”

You gave them both a tired but amused look, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s just say I had an… interesting night. And I’m definitely feeling it this morning.”

Before anyone could press further, Spencer strolled into the bullpen, a noticeable spring in his step. He approached your desk with a smugness that only you could truly decipher, carrying a cup of coffee like it was a trophy. With a self-satisfied grin, he placed the cup in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Good morning, love,” he said, his voice laced with a warmth that made you both roll your eyes and smile.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching for the coffee, grateful for the momentary distraction.

But as Spencer straightened up, you noticed something that made your stomach flip—he had a shit-eating grin on his face. That was when it hit you: he was enjoying this. He knew exactly what the team was thinking, and he was reveling in it.

You watched him saunter over to his desk, pretending to be oblivious to the shocked whispers and side glances being exchanged across the room. But you knew better. That grin, the slight swagger in his walk—Spencer Reid was basking in the glory of his teammates’ surprise.

Morgan’s jaw dropped, and he pointed a finger at Spencer, then back at you. “Did you guys see that? I mean, I thought Reid was a little more- damn!”

Emily smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I did not see that coming. Who knew Spencer had it in him?”

JJ chuckled, giving you a look that was part admiration, part amusement. “Looks like there’s a lot we don’t know about Spencer.” She nodded, mouthing, we’ll talk about this later.

Rossi chimed in, a bemused expression on his face. “Well, you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

You glanced over at Spencer, who was now seated at his desk, diligently pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork. The grin on his face, however, betrayed his true feelings—he was thoroughly enjoying the attention, playing the part of the humble genius who just happened to surprise everyone.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. No, Spencer Reid was going to pay for that smug grin, just not today. And probably not tomorrow. You needed to recover first, but in a few days… oh, you were going to give him his. And it would be worth the wait.

[yueebby]

keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.  

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours. 

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk. 

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board. 

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate. 

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box. 

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face. 

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth. 

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl. 

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom. 

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan. 

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread. 

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.” 

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom. 

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar. 

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

 you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra: 

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.

[robboyblunder]

As promised I went ahead and continued my "ghoul guide" with a part 2 (part one linked in replies)! This one covers stuff specifically with a made up lore guide of in-world ghoul stuff as if they were a sort of unique magic entity.

This one wound up way longer and had to be split so expect a third final one eventually lmao. for now though... I'm gonna take a break and yell. Bonus extra info plus the transcript under the cut!

ID in ALT text!

Bonus note: While not portrayed in the guide, it’s important to know a detail about ghouls’ origin called “memory echoes”. While ghouls are formed from humans past who lose all memory of their previous self while maintaining an assumed personality from before, at times certain instances of events, actions, items, and otherwise can trigger these “echoes”. Echoes are very rare, but a valued treasure to ghouls; they make them feel more connected to their past and more “human”. Upon triggering an echo, a ghoul will become completely listless, unable to respond or react until the echo has completed, usually within seconds.

“Memory echoes” are described as blurry faded memories that often show featureless shapes and colors, but a very strong “feeling” of a Deja-vu of the moment. They feel viscerally real and can have a mix of the senses i.e. touch and smell, but produce no recognizable faces or imagery of the self. No ghoul has ever reported fully remembering one, nor any semblance of their true past beyond the haunting leftovers.

Begin Transcript:

A Compendium of Hell’s Derivates

While there are many theories on the demonic nature of ghouls,

The true source is surprisingly Human.

Souls cannot be recreated; rather, they’re Recycled and Reborn

The cycle of ghoul creation started for unknown reasons…

But one thing is Certain:

Natural forces do not change easily.

Raw elements collide with the fuel of life itself until one connects

by His command

A violent injection of pure elemental magic

Rewrites and erases all memory and one’s past, drastically altering the soul…

These new powers lend to the powerful allies of the ministry,

However….

… new powers are a dangerous toy.

While coined as “Feral”, new ghouls would better be designated “Raw”, “Unbound”, and “Lawlessly Dangerous”

First formed, they are still elements;

Torrential, Aimless,

Incapable of coherent thought or rules

-but with time, coherence returns to the individual

Who grows much like a life cycle’s stages without necessarily aging.

The overall cycle is the same per ghoul, yet varied enough each rises differently…

First form: “Raw” – Second form (1): “Feral” – Second form (2) – Third form: “Stabilized”

Catalyst, violent, poor formation – Unaware, wild, chaotic – Conscious; can act like oneself; less raw – fully formed and recognizable

The first form, “Raw”, is notably so violent the devil himself does not release them until stage two.

The second form in stage one of a “Feral” ghoul is much like the forces of nature; free willed and wild, understanding minimal speech.

Take caution: they can be mischievous and cause decent damage.

In the second stage of a “Feral” ghoul, they behave like typical people; however, they’re still very free and may choose to never fully stabilize.

Note: you can tell they’ve reached this stage by presence of a tail and civil habits.

If desired, a ghoul reaches the final form: “Stabilized”. They’re transformed into a stable humanoid body, a form less powerful but safer.

Note: Talented ghouls can change form at will in this stage between secondary Feral and Stable.

When it comes to location, each form is most likely to be found:

Raw: Hell, contained

Feral (Stage 1): wilds/natural areas

Feral (Stage 2): wilds and civil areas

Stabilized: anywhere people go

Seeing feral ghouls is not uncommon, and can even be considered lucky!

They tend to provide free protection to keep their home

Ghouls can only stabilize via ministry ritual;

One can assume they’re ministry members if stable, even off duty.

Ghouls are uncommon, but found most places if looked for;

This seems especially true near ministry placements.

Ghouls only form from adults and don’t “age” traditionally, yet they’re still mortal

Deceased ghouls do not seem to return or recycle.

Summoning intentionally pulls only second stage feral ghouls or stable ghouls from anywhere,

They don’t always like this however (see other guide).

The cycle of ghouls serves a main purpose – as forces for the Dark One, in return for rebirth

However, there are two channels through which they serve.

1) Natural defense against corrupted holy magic

Non-stable ghouls defend at will naturally where they live

2) training to fight, protect, and uphold the ministry’s efforts in the name of the Devil.

Contrary to belief, summonings cannot grab from “nothing”;

Like the creation of a ghoul,

Their element, once developed, is what becomes pulled by nature

The force of such pull is incredible,

A disorientating test of will so great…

…it can render even the most sound minds rather violent.

This is why while some choose to stabilize, others may not;

But should a mind change, they can be freed or re-summoned.

Alternative to wild summoning, one can summon from trained ghouls over feral;

Many ghouls are trained for ministry positions all over, but any can be summoned if unassigned.

Though stabilized, unassigned ghouls are not contractually bound to anyone until assigned.

They’re great for extra work hands and being able to know what kind of team mates you’ll get without leaving it to chance.

Summoning any ghoul however reverts them to feral form, and the challenge to tame them remains the same.

Just because you know a ghoul does not mean an easy summon.

Finally, be warned: forcing unwanted breaking or upholding of a summoning contract

Will have dire consequences.

Aside from rarity of an element, there are “power classes” within each element.

Tiers:

Rarity of an element does not equal strength.

The break down is as follows:

Rare – extreme and dangerous power. These ghouls earn a specialized title.

Quite strong, stand out in their class and very sought after.

Most common tier; average and decent powers that are expectable.

Weak powers, but some uses are applicable.

Uncommon – ghouls who possess little to no powers. Ghouls in this tier may at times suddenly change power tier without warning to any other category.

S-Tier ghouls are quite rare and a sight to behold- truly, they embody nature’s power.

End transcript.

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

[writers-potion]

Hi! I would like to ask if you could possibly give any tips on how to properly manage to introduce characters ?

Techniques for Character Introduction

There are many things you can consider for an impactful character introduction:

The Point of View of your novel

Whether your character is a POV character or not

The tone of your novel

What your character is like

In-Medias-Res

Immediately show the character in the middle of action.

Character(s) come into the scene running, fighting, laughing - whatever it is.

Good for leaving an impression

Could be an in-medias-res hook in the very opening of your novel, to introduce the main character.

Choose an action that "defines" the character. Perhaps it's something they do repeatedly (going to the gym at 5am every morning) or that shows a key part of their personality (digging through a large pile of laundry because they cannot keep their room clean)

Dialogue - Voice First

The character makes a voice entrance before we "see" them physically appear.

It helps the readers define the relationship between the character being introduced and the character that we've been following.

From Dan Brown's <Digital Fortress>:

"David?" "It's Strathmore," the voice replied. Susan slumped. "Oh," She was unable to hide her disappointment. "Good afternoon, Commander." "Hoping for a younger man?" The voice chuckled. "No, sir," Susan said.

In these few lines, we already know (1) Strathmore is Susan's boss, (2) quite high-ranking in some military/governmental/secret agency (commander??) (3) is male (4) has a sense of humor (5) seems to be quite friendly with his employees, etc.

By using phone conversations, you can also show how the POV/main character truly feels about the character on the phone - there's no need to make appearances. Perhaps they frown, or attempt to throw their phone on the wall in frustration while the other talks.

Via Another Character

This is where characters in the story talk about the characters even before they are introduced.

Often used with villains/characters with popularity in the story world.

Example: "You've heard of Joe, of course."/ "I'm sorry, who?" /"The president of Book Club? Red hair, freckles?"

Simple Intro with direct characterization

Sometimes, just writing a brief description about the character can be effective, especially if you have some backstory that really, really need to be there before the readers start following the character.

Here's a passage from Leigh Bardugo's <The Familiar>:

"Dona Valentina had been raised by two cold, distracted parents who felt little towards her beyond a vague sense of disappointment in her tepid beauty and the unlikelihood that she would make a good match. She hadn't. Don Marius Ordono possessed a dwindling fortune..."

The key here: provide interesting detail. There's no fun in saying, "Dona Valentina wasn't too pretty, so she had to marry Don Marius Ordono with little wealth." An image of a girl neglected by her parents and bartered for wealth is much more captivating.

Slow & Mysterious Setup

This one is harder to execute than the others on this list, but when done properly, it can produce a beautiful effect where the readers know who you're talking about without you ever having to name them.

An excellent example of this is how Marcus Zusak introduces Death (with capital D, who's the narrator of the story):

"I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables."

"Your soul will be in my arms." "I will carry you gently away."

Death continues to talk about his "job" like the above until it becomes enough for the reader to catch on.

Drop enough hints for your readers to recognize the character

Works best with an archetypal character - devil, vampire, demon, angels...some figure with distinct features that even when described mysteriously, will be noticeable.

Showing Attitude - For POV characters

Present a peculiar line of thought or show some attitude that makes the character immediately interesting.

This works wonderfully with POV characters - by giving the reader a crucial piece of the POV character's mindset to set the overall tone of the novel.

From Rick Riordan's <Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief>:

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advise is: close this book right now."

Percy (the POV character) goes on a bit like this before we get his name, etc. in the subsequent section.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[rafecameronssl4t]

honestly so inlove with what’s good John b because you wrote it very similarly to what happened in the show (of course with your twists) and I was wondering if you could do one about reader being rafes girlfriend and being there when he shot peterkin and reader being just so shocked and couldn’t believe what he just did

Me and the Devil || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

GIF by @tetragonia

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for toooo long

Warnings: this is a canon fic that is based from s1 ep 9 so if you were uncomfortable watching it, especially towards the end when Rafe k!lls peterkins, please do not read this as I go into detail.

Word count: 1,693

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Rafe, what are we doing out here?" you ask, your voice tinged with concern as you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car. The sun blazes overhead, casting sharp shadows on the dusty, secluded airstrip, save for the one airplane on the other side.

"I'm just checking something," Rafe replies, attempting to sound casual as he opens the car door. You hesitate for a moment before following him.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" you whisper-yell, your eyes widening as you spot Peterkins aiming her gun at Ward, with Sarah and John B standing behind him. Rafe halts, and both of you watch the tense scene unfold, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What is going on—" Your question is cut short by the chilling, unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

You turn, heart hammering in your chest, to see Rafe gripping a gun tightly in his hand. Panic and confusion flood your mind. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. He looks back at you, eyes wild and desperate, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Hey, hey, I'm doing this for us, okay? Just—just stay in the car," he pleads, though his voice is shaky and uncertain. Your breathing quickens, and you can feel the terror rising within you.

"No—no, I'm coming with you," you insist, shaking your head as you step beside him. You clutch at Rafe's shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you look at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Please don't do anything stupid," you beg, your voice breaking with emotion. His silence is deafening, amplifying your dread and uncertainty.

Rafe moves stealthily along the side of the airplane, keeping out of sight, and you follow closely, every nerve in your body on edge. The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly, adding to the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, Peterkins' voice rings out, clear and authoritative, "You're under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge." A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Rafe is quick to react. His hand clamps over your mouth, silencing you as he pulls you against his chest.

Your heart races, pounding so loudly as you the situation you are in sinks in. Pressed against Rafe, you can feel his own heart beating rapidly. The realization that he's willing to go to such lengths terrifies you. He removes his hand slowly, but keeps you close, his eyes scanning the scene ahead.

"Stay quiet," he whispers, his voice barely audible. The sound of footsteps and hushed voices reaches your ears, and you can make out the strained expressions on the faces of Ward, Sarah, and John B. Your hand tightens its grip on Rafe's shirt, your body trembling.

The conversation around you fades into an indistinct murmur as your mind races, grappling with the gravity of the situation you and Rafe find yourselves in. Rafe’s muttered curses, “Shit, shit, shit,” barely register in your ears, overshadowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. You watch in a daze as Ward crumples to his knees. His shoulders sagas he places his hands behind his head in a gesture of surrender.

Peterkins strides forward with a stern expression, her movements deliberate and unyielding. The metallic click of the handcuffs as they close around Ward’s wrists seems unnaturally loud in the silence that envelops you.

Beside you, Rafe’s panic is palpable. His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. In the blink of an eye, Rafe is moving past you, gun in hand. Your eyes widen in pure terror as the reality of the situation crashes down on you. “Rafe, Rafe! Stop—” you scream, your voice breaking with fear and desperation. But your plea is cut short by the deafening sound of a gunshot.

Instinctively, you block your ears and crouch down on the ground, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounds so fiercely you can feel it in your throat, each beat echoing in your ears. Over the ringing left by the gunshot, you can hear Sarah’s screams, high-pitched and filled with horror.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the hot tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat and grime of the moment. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you slowly look up, dread gnawing at your insides. Your gaze settles on the scene before you, and an audible sob bursts from your throat.

Sheriff Peterkin is on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out beneath her. The stark crimson against the earth sends a wave of nausea through you. Rafe stands a few feet away, the gun still in his hand, his face a mask of shock and confusion. He had shot her. The reality of it hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Every detail sharpens into painful clarity—the way Peterkin’s body lies still, the glint of the handcuffs now forgotten beside her, the horrified expressions of everyone around. The world seems to contract to this single, unbearable moment. Your sobs come harder now, wracking your body as you struggle to process the horror of what just happened. The gravity of Rafe’s actions sinks in, and you feel a deep, gut-wrenching despair.

Sarah is sobbing uncontrollably as John B holds her close to him, his face a mix of shock and terror. “Rafe, what did you do?” Ward’s voice trembles with a mixture of horror and disbelief as he stares at his son.

Rafe, his eyes wild and manic, lets out a chilling chuckle. “I saved you, Dad,” he says, his voice tinged with a desperate glee. “I saved you!” he yells, his voice echoing in the stillness that follows the gunshot. You stand there, paralyzed, your hands clasped over your mouth in a futile attempt to contain the sobs threatening to escape.

Peterkins coughs, struggling to breathe. John B rushes to her side, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as you stand by, helpless. Your eyes dart to Rafe, his gun still trained on them. You grab his forearm, attempting to lower the weapon, but he remains unmoved, your efforts only eliciting another sob from your lips.

John B clutches Peterkins' radio, when Rafe shouts, "Hey! Hey, wait!" He lunges towards John B, and you fight to restrain him. "Rafe, stop it!" you scream, panic in your voice. "Rafe, no! Rafe!" Ward approaches quickly, his focus on his son. "Don't try it, asshole," Rafe snarls at John B, who swallows hard.

"Rafe—John B, give me the radio," Ward demands, extending his hand. John B hesitates, shaking his head, "No." Sarah's sobs grow louder, her tear-streaked face mirroring your own fear and shock as you look at each other.

"Come on," Ward insists, prying the radio from John B's hands. Rafe keeps his gun aimed, his expression tense. Ward steps in front of him, arm outstretched. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down."

"He has the radio, Rafe. Put the gun down!" you beg, your voice trembling with desperation. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot John B getting up and running, pulling Sarah with him "Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe shouts, pushing past side Ward as he yells out for Sarah.

In an instant, Rafe attempts to run after John B and Sarah, but you and Ward hold him back, pleading with him to calm down. "Where are you going?" he yells, his voice frantic. "Rafe, no!" you scream as he breaks free from your grip and starts shooting at John B and Sarah. "That's your sister, Rafe!" Ward shouts, trying to lower his son's arms.

You rush to Peterkins' body, your clothes now stained a deep crimson red. "I'm sorry," you sob, your shaky hands pressing against the wound. "It's not your fault, sweetie," she weakly whispers, as you continue to cry, "I'm so sorry!"

Rafe is breathing heavily, pacing as he watches you sobbing beside Peterkins. He regrets bringing you along. "Dad, I was trying to—" "Shut up!" Ward yells, his eyes shifting to you as he approaches.

Ward had always been like a father to you, believing you were a good influence on Rafe and treating you like his own daughter. But after what had just happened, you look up at Ward in terror. "Y/N," he says calmly. You don't reply as tears continue to stream down your face.

"I need you to get up," he says softly. "She is dying!" you scream, your voice breaking. "Y/N!" Rafe yells at you, his gaze cold and hard. You flinch under his glare. "What is wrong with you? You just shot somebody, Rafe!" Your voice cracks as he furiously storms up to you.

"You should've stayed in the car like I fucking told you!" he shouts, grabbing your biceps and forcefully pulling you to your feet. "I'm not going until the medics come!" you argue, your voice filled with desperation. "Get her home, Rafe!" Ward yells behind him.

"No, I'm not going!" you insist, trying to shake off Rafe's grip, but it's useless. "Rafe, she needs help!" you scream, thrashing against his hold. "Honey, I'm calling them, look!" Ward shows you the radio, trying to reassure you as Rafe drags you away. "Rafe, please!" you sob, trying to escape his grip as he manhandles you towards the car.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screams, yanking the car door open. "Get in the car." He shoves you aggressively into the seat, and you let out a scream. "Don't move!" he barks, slamming the door. You flinch, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling in terror at your unrecognisable boyfriend.

Inside the car, your mind races, fear and helplessness overwhelming you. You look out the window, seeing Ward and Peterkins, feeling utterly powerless.

[turcott3]

safety net

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, semi slow burn, a kiss, angst and some fluff ofc

positions masterlist!

~trippin’ fallin’ with no safety net~

-

you made your way into the bar, as it was your first weekend living in jersey. you walk in and head straight to the counter, asking for a drink that was sweet and didn’t taste too strongly of alcohol.

“hey stranger.” a voice says to your right and you turn your head.

“dawson?” you say, your eyes widening.

“hey y/n.” he says opening his arms for you to hug him, which you gladly accept.

“how have you been? oh my gosh it’s been what like 3 years.” you say smiling at your old school friend.

“i’ve been good, playing hockey here is fucking awesome.” he says.

“yes! that’s right you play for the devils, how could i forget you getting drafted!” the two of you laugh.

“well how’s your boyfriend? haven’t seen him in a few years either.” he asks curiously.

“funny you should ask, i broke up with him and that’s why i moved here.”

“wait really? why? you don’t have to explain if you’re not comfortable.” the brunette boy asks leaning on the counter.

“well things were so great when we started dating our senior year but within the last year he became a real fucking asshole, so i broke it off and moved away so he couldn’t try to find me and sucker me into being with him again.” you explain, leaving out any details you weren’t ready to share.

“well shit, i’m sorry y/n. i bet that hurt a lot.”

“it did but i’m over it, ready to find someone else.” you say and you practically see the light bulb turn on over his head.

“i think i have someone i want you to meet.” he smirks. you grab your drink and follow close behind him, holding onto his arm.

“hey jack!” dawson says to a brunette boy with bright blue eyes.

“what’s up daws, who’s this?” he says looking at you. you release dawson’s arm and give him a smile.

“jack this is y/n, y/n this is jack.” he says looking between you two.

“nice to meet you, jack.” you say.

“yeah, you too.” he smiles, causing a blush to burn in your cheeks.

“i have to go to the bathroom, you two have fun. don’t get too drunk.” he says giggling and walking off to the bathroom.

“so y/n, what brings you to jersey?” he asks.

“just needed a change of scenery from my hometown. dawson and i went to highschool together.” you tell him.

“oh wow, small world. are you still new to living here or?”

“yeah this is only my first weekend but i’m glad im already meeting people, it was getting pretty lonely.” you laugh.

“well now that you’ve reconnected with dawson, you have a whole new group of people to hang out with.”

“oh are you guys like on the same team?” you ask.

“yeah we are, my brothers around here somewhere. probably tongue deep in some random girl.” he laughs.

“is he older or younger?”

“younger.” he says taking a sip of his drink.

“oh nice.” you smile doing the same.

“can i get your number?” he asks.

“yeah of course.” you say as he hands you his phone.

“what have i missed?” a tall, curly haired boy asks.

“ah yes, y/n, this is my brother luke.”

“nice to meet you.” you say.

“nice to meet you too.” he replies.

“so where were you?” jack asks as i hand him his phone back.

“i was talking to john but i didn’t wanna ruin his game so i came back.” he laughs.

“johnny getting some ladies?”

“he sure was.” luke laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

“i see you’ve met the other one.” dawson says returning from the bathroom.

“yes i have.” i laugh at him. you spent the next 2 hours with the boys, enjoying their presence and the fact that you’d made some friends in your new town.

“well i think im gonna call it a night.” you say taking the final sip of your drink.

“let me walk you?” jack asks.

“yeah sure.” you accept and the two of you make your way out of the bar.

“did you walk here or drive?” he asks stopping once you made it outside.

“oh i walked, i live like two blocks away.”

“okay cool, show me the way.” he says.

“jack you don’t have to.”

“i’m not letting you walk back to your apartment by yourself at midnight in a big city y/n.” he says firmly.

“oh, thank you.” you blush and begin your walk to your apartment. the walk was filled with small talk and laughter, the chemistry between you two growing more and more with seemingly every step.

“well this is my place.” you say arriving at your door.

“alright, have a good night y/n. i’ll text you.” he says as you pull him in for a side hug.

“goodnight jack.” you say shutting the door behind you. it’s been 5 days and you already have a crush on someone you just met. it felt almost wrong. you had broken up with your boyfriend just two weeks ago. you couldn’t allow yourself to move on too quickly. your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you see that dawson had texted you.

dawson: glad you made it back safe!

y/n: thank you! except really you can thank jack

dawson: hahaha well i guess so🙄 have a good night y/n

y/n: you too, see you again soon?

dawson: yes for sure, season starts in like a month and a half i’m sure you’ll get sick of seeing me

y/n: doubt it

dawson: only bc ill bring jack

y/n: bitch

dawson: i’m messing with you lmaooooo goodnight y/n

y/n: goodnight daws😭

-

you woke up the next morning to a text from jack saying good morning, to which you replied with a simple, good morning. texting a new guy felt so wrong. you didn’t know what to do about it but you couldn’t ghost him so you figure you should just keep chatting and see what happens.

“lunch?” you say reading his next text. the boy asked you to lunch, to which you hesitantly agreed to join him. you made yourself a small breakfast to tide you until lunch. you sat on the couch watching tv, growing more nervous by the second. he didn’t ask you on a date, just lunch. maybe he just wants to be friends? after you ate, you put on a casual outfit and added a natural touch to your makeup. he texted the address and you left your apartment, hoping to arrive after him. once you arrive at the, what appears to be, small coffee shop, you’re greeted by jack smiling at the counter.

“sorry i’m a little late.” you laugh nervously.

“no don’t worry, i was just about to order. what do you want?”

“oh jack you don’t have to pay i can’t wait in line.” you say.

“now what kind of man would i be to let a pretty girl like you wait in line and pay for her own food?” he says boldly, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“an iced vanilla latte and a buttered croissant is good then.” you simply reply, finding a seat at a table by a large window. he meets you soon after, with a table number in his hand.

“you ever been here before?” he asks, noticing you staring out the window.

“i haven’t, i didn’t even know it was here until you told me about it.” you say redirecting your attention to the boy who already had his eyes on you.

“i come here sometimes, it’s like my special little spot for special occasions.” he smiles leaning back in his chair.

“what’s so special about this occasion?” you question, wanting real answers.

“it’s our first date.” he smirks causing your face to burn bright red.

“well i guess it is isn’t it.” you laugh.

-

once you arrive back at your apartment, you throw your purse to the side and kick off your shoes.

“what have i done? what do i do? oh fuck me, i can’t do this.” you say, that piece of your heart never healing from your past relationship. you couldn’t let go of the mistrust you felt. you never wanted to make the same mistake again, so you called dawson.

“hello?” you speak when he picks up.

“hey y/n, what’s up?”

“can you come over, i need advice.”

“yeah of course, send me your address and i’ll be there.”

“thank you so much, bye daws.” you say hanging up and sending him your address. you sat on your couch almost in a panic. you told yourself over and over to not do this again, especially this soon. a short 10 minutes later, you hear a knock on your door and you open it to see dawson standing there in his sweats.

“did i wake you from a nap?” you laugh.

“yes actually you did, but it’s okay, what’s up?” he says stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

“jack is what’s up.”

“oh?” he says plopping down on my couch.

“so we went out to lunch, he called it our first date.” you say.

“okay what’s the problem with that?” he says.

“you’re not understanding, my ex and i broke up what 3 weeks ago? i can’t move on, how do i know i can trust him?”

“y/n, jacks a nice guy, i wouldn’t have introduced you two if i thought otherwise.”

“i just think it’s too soon dawson.”

“relax, calm down, chill out.” he says standing up and placing his hands on your biceps.

“how am i supposed to be calm?”

“y/n, no one is rushing you into a relationship. you are not committed to the guy, you went on ONE date. you aren’t married to him, just relax. i know it’s hard, i don’t know all the details of your break up but obviously you let your mistrust cloud your vision of good people. i wouldn’t let you go down a dark rabbit hole, and you know that.” he says calming your nerves. dawson always had a way of getting to you and calming you down when necessary, even though it had been years since you last saw the boy.

“okay you’re right.” you say sighing.

“and you don’t have to worry, he’s leaving to go to michigan for a couple days tomorrow, so you can spend time away from him and just texting, so you can get to know him better without it being to serious for you.” he adds.

“perfect.” you laugh.

“now why don’t we chill out and watch a movie, you’re clearly stressed and i want you to clear your mind.” he states, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. after a couple hours, dawson heads home, leaving you alone with nothing but your phone.

jack: hey i’m headed to michigan tmrw morning, hang when im back?

y/n: yes for sure!

jack: ok awesome, see you then

y/n: *loved a message*

you sat with your thoughts. you were terrified of the possibilities with jack, you couldn’t help it. it’s like your brain had been hardwired to push him away, but you fought the urge harder than anyone could ever know.

-

it had been about two weeks and jack returned from his trip a few days ago. the two of you have been texting nonstop. you learned the silly facts about each other and his personality shined through even on text. he was beginning to give you that glimpse of hope that you thought you’d lost for good.

“i just don’t know.” you spoke to dawson through the phone.

“he’s never texted a girl this long, he obviously likes you.”

“well you never know.”

“he has had women throw themselves at him and he’s rejected all of them. don’t you see it.”

“i do but i just don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

“y/n, just give it another go. go on another date with him. you won’t regret it, you and i both know that as much as you don’t want to admit that your crush is more than just a silly little crush.”

“god, daws you always know how to pick my brain what is wrong with you?” you laugh.

“um nothing, im just correct.” he scoffs.

“okay whatever, ill call him tonight okay?” you reply hoping it’ll shut him up.

“i’m holding you to it, so you better.”

“whatever mercer.”

-

“hello?” you hear a muffled jack on the other end of the line.

“hey jack, i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna go out again some time? i had a great time with you.”

“yeah absolutely!”

“does tomorrow work?” you ask, holding your breath.

“yeah i don’t have any plans. ill come pick you up at 1?”

“perfect.” you smile to yourself.

“i’ll see you tomorrow y/n.”

“bye jack.” you say hanging up the phone, wanting to scream with excitement. you had no clue how this could feel the way it does so soon after your breakup.

-

2 months later

“hey,” jack says shaking you awake.

“huh.” you groan opening your eyes.

“i have a skate to go to, ill be back okay?” he says, you fully processing your surroundings.

“oh, yeah okay. have fun.” you smile as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. you’d stayed the night at his house just like you have for a few nights every week since your second date though you never established a label for your relationship, just placing the boyfriend name tag on him when you’re out by yourself, too afraid to use it around him. the idea of him leaving you to skate sucked, and you shoved down these feelings so they wouldn’t get in the way of anything. you never wanted him to leave your sight. you hated that you’d grown so attached. you pulled out your phone to call dawson, always filling him in with updates.

“hey miss hughes, what you up to?” he asks picking up.

“dawson stop,” you laugh, “i just woke up, jack just left for optional skate.”

“oh that’s funny i’m on my way there now.”

“i’m sure he’ll ive you all the details.”

“yeah he always does but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on in that little brain of yours first.”

“i hate when he leaves dude. i hate it. i feel like i have no right to be this attached. being around him makes me so fucking happy, it’s like all my problems disappear when he’s around. but i need to face it, he probably doesn’t even want me.”

“you’re lying but go on.”

“lying about what?”

“you really think he ever keeps girls around this long if he doesn’t wanna be with them? be for real with yourself y/n.” he says plainly.

“okay well, point is, i’ve grown attached and i don’t understand my feelings daws.”

“i think you love him.” he laughs.

“you’re crazy.” you scoff.

“did you listen to anything you just said?”

“what part?”

“god damnit, think before you speak y/n. the way you feel when you’re around him is love. practically in its exact definition.”

“it’s only been 3 months that i’ve known the guy.”

“bitch do you really think love has a timeline?”

“well n-“

“THEN GO GET HIM.”

“i’m not gonna go, he’s skating.”

“i meant it figuratively, just wait for him to come back and see how different you feel compared to talking to me on the phone. don’t leave. don’t panic and push him away y/n. give him a shot.”

“okay okay, ill talk to you later dawson.”

“alright, bye y/n.” he says hanging up abruptly. you knew deep down that he was probably right and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. you sat on his couch for a few hours, waiting to hear the lock turn again, when suddenly it did.

“oh hey, you’re still here? i thought you’d be gone by now.” he laughs, hanging his keys on the hook.

“no i wanted to stay, your couch is cozy.”

“well i’m glad you’re still here.” he says, kissing you on top of the head as he passed behind the couch. dawson was right, you felt giddy when jack entered the room, and the feeling didn’t settle. he returns back to the living room.

“you look like you’re thinking.” he says sitting down next to you. you sit up and turn to him.

“i am thinking.” you say, anxiety running through your body at full speed, knee bouncing.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he giggles placing a hand on your leg gently.

“i think i love you.” you say quietly, the words slipping off your tongue with struggle. you finally let yourself trip and fall. it felt almost freeing. his demeanor shifts as a smile grows on his face. he sits up to get closer to you.

“what was that?” he asks, smile growing wider.

“i think i love you. no no, i do. i do love you. i love you jack. i know we never attached a label to whatever we are but i can’t keep pushing my feelings away anymore. i just love you.” you say finally being able to lock eyes with him. he connects your lips in response, framing your cheek with his callused hand. when you pull away his gorgeous smile returns.

“fuck, i love you too y/n.” he laughs, a wave of relief washing over you. you couldn’t believe how jack changed your perspective on love and men so quickly but it never felt more true to you. you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore no matter how hard you tried. you finally let yourself fall, and thank god it was into the right hands this time.

-

[mattatouilletkachuk]

So excited for the summer series! The prompts you chose were perfect! It was impossible to just pick one! May I please request 5 with Jack?

Hazy Clarity || Jack Hughes x reader

Prompt: 5. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I really am trying to get through these requests. Promise. Anyways I hope you like this.

Warnings: drug use (for medical reasons)

Summary: You thought you knew what you were getting into when you volunteered to take care of Jack after his surgery.

When you volunteered to be with and take care of Jack after his surgery you thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. Dating Jack for a year and knowing him for a year beforehand meant that you had seen him injured before and that usually, you would skip going to your apartment in favor of spending your time in his to make sure he was okay. Perhaps being there after Jack had his surgery was more so to calm your anxious mind but even though he wasn’t completely awake and coherent, he still seemed to appreciate the company.

Antsy. That was the best way to describe Jack. Since you met him it seemed like he always had to be doing something, even if it was just sitting down, if he wasn’t talking he would bounce his leg or constantly tap his fingers. It was like watching a child try and contain a sugar rush. So it was a little off-putting to watch as Jack sat on your couch, still as could be. He had several pillows cushioning his arm as he dozed quietly.

Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him up, you grabbed the thickest throw blanket you had and covered Jack with it. He barely stirred as you tucked the blanket loosely around him. You stifled a giggle as you watched him twitch his nose at your actions before going still again.

When it was clear that he wasn’t waking up anytime soon you checked your phone only to see several dozen messages from his teammates, friends, and family. They ranged from asking how Jack was feeling and if he was doing better to asking how you were managing. You replied to all of them, letting everyone know that Jack is doing fine and recovering well. When you got to Jack’s family you gave a little more detail, telling Ellen that there was no need to worry and that he’s mostly been asleep because of the pain medication. Luke had asked if he should come to visit after the season ends to help with everything but you reassured him that he would see Jack soon and that you had everything under control. You wished him luck on the few remaining games the Devils still had to play and made sure to let him know that you and Jack would be watching them.

Once you managed to respond to every text you plugged your phone into the charger in the living room and made your way into the kitchen to make something for dinner.

When he was awake, Jack proved to be rather ravenous. It didn’t surprise you at all, even when he was healthy and uninjured he could still eat you out of house and home. You didn’t want to test the limits of his medication and end up having him throw up the food you made later. So you finally landed on making the salmon you had just recently bought and tomato cucumber avocado salad.

Your apartment wasn’t all that big. If you poked your head out of the kitchen you could see directly into the living room. So halfway through cooking you heard it when Jack woke up. You didn’t immediately rush to him, choosing rather to stay in the kitchen and finish the meal you were making.

You were filled with anxiety since the moment he got injured. I’m fact, you felt rather positive that if you went back to the hospital waiting room, where you sat as he had surgery, you would see a hole in the floor that you caused from the nonstop pacing you did as you waited to hear from the surgeon. Even when Jack was finally allowed to come home you couldn’t stop your mind from racing. Was your apartment clean enough? Did you have enough space for him to get better? What if he tried to do something that only made his injury worse?

You weren’t a nurse or a doctor. You had no background in medicine so the task of taking care of your healing boyfriend was daunting, to say the least. What you did have, though, was two years of knowing Jack. You could read his mood and body language better than anybody else. You knew when he was hurt, stressed, or upset and you knew exactly what to do to help. At least most of the time.

So when you heard some light shuffling from the living room and a quiet cough you knew he was awake. When you heard the television being turned on and the soft noise from it you were only proven right.

It doesn’t take you long to finish cooking and once you’re done you make two plates and head back out to the living room. You smile at the sight that greets you. Jack added another pillow to prop up his arm and found another throw blanket the wrap around himself. He blinks a bit sluggishly from underneath the blankets but the soft smile that adorns his face when he sees you makes it feel like butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach.

You smile back at him and set the plate of food on the coffee table. When you sit down you immediately feel Jack's cheeks and forehead for any warmth. The doctors told you to keep an eye out for any signs of a fever in the first few days after his surgery. His cheeks were warm but nothing that should have you worrying. It was only the warmth of sleep that still clung to him and made his cheeks rosy red.

Before you could pull your hand away Jack nuzzled into your touch. His eyes slipped close again and a sigh left his mouth. You ignored the way your heart beat faster and pulled your hand back gently.

“Hey, pretty boy, how’re feeling?” You asked softly.

Jack quietly groaned before forcing his eyes back open. His eyes were still red and glossy from sleep and when he spoke his voice was husky and his talking slow. “Still in a lot of pain.”

You glanced at the clock you had hanging on your wall to see how much time had passed since the last time you gave him any pain medication.

“You can have more medicine if you eat,” you gestured to the plate you had brought out. Jack followed to where your fingers were pointing. “It’s not good to take medication on an empty stomach.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment before trying to sit up to eat. You watched him as he winced in pain but he didn’t say anything so you decided it was best for you to not bring anything up.

Halfway through eating and watching a rerun of The Office that was playing Jack sighed and put his fork down.

“I love your cooking,” he said almost wistfully. You glanced down at his plate and saw that only half of it was eaten, which was better than yesterday when he refused to eat anything.

“I would say thank you but I know that you routinely eat cold leftover pizza,” you huffed out a small laugh. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t know how to cook. He could make something to sustain somebody but you couldn’t count on both of your hands the amount of times you had gone over to his apartment and saw a fridge with no food and just Gatorade and beer.

“I’m pretty confident you're the best cook I know.” He said as he burrowed himself back into the couch and under the blankets.

When he winced again you didn’t hesitate to reach over to the end table and grab the bottle of medication that he was prescribed. When you gave him the pills he immediately tipped his head back and swallowed them without water.

“I’m probably biased, though,” Jack said once he could.

You raised your eyebrow in curiosity. You finished chewing the food in your mouth before asking, “Biased how?”

“I love everything you do.”

Warmth floods your cheeks at his declaration. You hoped Jack wouldn’t notice it or that the medication would make him forget about it tomorrow. It’s not that you were embarrassed to let him see the effect he had on you, you just knew that if he was more coherent and present he’d probably tease you and perhaps it was self-absorbed or vain but all you wanted was to bask in his affections for you right now.

“Oh?” It was all you could think to say. Jack wasn’t the most affectionate when it came to words. It was obvious that his love language was physical touch so it’s not as if you had much experience in dealing with him saying sweet things randomly.

Jack hummed and nodded his head slowly. The pills you had given him were starting to kick in, you could tell as his eyelids grew heavier with every blink and the way his head slightly bobbed around as if he was trying to keep himself awake.

“Yeah,” his voice was low and slightly stirred but he kept his blue eyes trained on you. “I love everything about you.”

A bashful smile bloomed on your face and you didn’t try to hide it from your boyfriend. You placed your plate back on the table and kissed his cheek, “I love you too, Jack.”

When you pulled away and looked at Jack you were surprised to see a frown on his lips. He didn’t look upset or angry at what you said. Instead, he looked like he was thinking hard about something.

You didn’t lean back in for a kiss but instead, you lifted your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb over the wrinkles on his forehead. “Tell me what you’re thinking about otherwise you’ll end up with wrinkles from all that frowning.”

“You don’t get it, baby,” he spoke so softly you had to strain to hear him. “I love you. I love everything about you and I know you love me but it’s not even a comparison because I know I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true,” his words had left you feeling breathless but despite his sweet words, you needed him to know how much you loved him. “I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

Jack’s eyes slid close but his soft and sleepy smile stayed. “You don’t get it, you’re like…” he paused for a long moment to find the right words. “You’re like the sun and I’m like a plant. I’m always seeking you out and I wouldn’t be able to survive if you were gone.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. A part of you wished that you had gotten it on camera because even though Jack was never one to shy away from talking about anything, he had never said anything remotely close to what he just told you.

However, it didn’t seem like he was looking for a response because less than a few seconds after his head dropped onto one of the many pillows behind him.

You say still on the couch for a moment waiting for your racing heart to go back to its regular rhythm. Once you felt stable again, you grabbed the plates as quietly as you could to not wake your boyfriend. When you stood from the couch to bring the dishes to the kitchen you were startled by the light grip on your arm. You looked down to see Jack had reached out to stop you from leaving.

“You know, I meant what I said right?” He asked, his eyes were still closed and his grip on you was becoming more and more loose by the second.

You grabbed his hand and set it down on his chest. “I know, Jacky.”

When he spoke again his words were slow and slurred, “Good, because you're the best thing to ever happen to me.”

The last few words were almost inaudible and before you could reply Jack was asleep. You smiled down at your sleeping boyfriend with a fond smile.

You brushed a piece of hair that was in his face away and leaned down to kiss his forehead softly.

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

You know he couldn’t hear you but it felt important to you to say it out loud. When you finally left the living room and placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but think that volunteering to take care of Jack after his surgery was a better decision than you originally had thought.

[estapa-edwards]

TEAM SWEETHEART - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 2.7k

requested? yes - jack being in love with an absolute sweetheart and she’s part of the devils team, he introduces her to his family and they can tell how much jack is head over heals in love with her, and she also has a great relationship with luke

warnings: use of y/n.

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As Y/N stepped into the locker room, her presence commanded attention. Her smile was radiant, her eyes filled with warmth and excitement. Jack felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him as he watched her, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her.

"Hey everyone, this is Y/N," the team's manager announced, gesturing towards her. "She'll be joining us as our new social media manager."

The room erupted into cheers and applause, welcoming Y/N with open arms. But for Jack, it felt like time had slowed down, his gaze locked on her as if drawn by an invisible force.

Y/N's eyes met Jack's, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. In that instant, Jack felt a connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was as if he had known Y/N his entire life, as if their souls were somehow intertwined, destined to find each other in this moment.

As the team continued to welcome Y/N, Jack couldn't shake the feeling of warmth spreading through him. He wanted nothing more than to get to know her, to learn every little detail about the person who had captured his heart with just a smile.

Throughout the rest of the day, Jack found himself stealing glances at Y/N whenever he could, his heart racing with anticipation. And as they interacted more and more, Jack knew without a doubt that Y/N was someone special – someone he couldn't imagine his life without.

The locker room was buzzing with excitement as Y/N set up her phone to film the latest TikTok for the New Jersey Devils' social media account. Jack Hughes sat in his locker, lacing up his skates, trying to focus on the game ahead, but his attention kept drifting to Y/N.

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Y/N moved around the room with ease, her energy infectious as she interacted with the players, her phone poised to capture every moment. Despite his nerves about being on camera, Jack couldn't help but admire her passion for her work.

"Hey, Jack, want to be in this TikTok?" Y/N called out, flashing him a playful grin.

Jack's heart skipped a beat at the invitation. He wasn't usually a fan of being filmed, but if it meant getting Y/N's attention, he was willing to make an exception.

"Sure, why not?" Jack replied with a nervous chuckle, standing up from his locker and joining Y/N in front of the camera.

As Y/N began recording, she turned to Jack with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Alright, Jack, when's the last time you called your parents for something?"

Jack's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he racked his brain for an answer. He wasn't used to being put on the spot like this, especially in front of his teammates.

"Uh, I think it was last week," Jack said, his voice slightly shaky with nerves. "I called my mom to ask for her chicken soup recipe."

Y/N laughed, the sound music to Jack's ears. "Classic mom move. Thanks, Jack!"

As Y/N moved on to the next player, Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. Despite his initial discomfort with being on camera, he was grateful for the opportunity to make Y/N smile, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

Throughout the rest of the day, Jack found himself eagerly anticipating the next TikTok shoot, eager to spend more time with Y/N and show her just how much he was willing to do for her attention.

Jack couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N as she bustled around, her infectious smile brightening the room. From the moment he first met her, he was captivated by her warmth, her kindness, and her unwavering passion for the team. She was more than just a colleague to him; she was his everything.

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As the game drew nearer, Jack found himself growing more nervous, not about the match, but about introducing Y/N to his family. He wanted them to see what he saw – an incredible woman who had stolen his heart. Taking a deep breath, he approached Y/N who was busy checking her phone for the latest fan tweets.

"Hey, Y/N," Jack said, his voice slightly shaky with nerves.

Y/N looked up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. "Hey, Jack! Ready for the game tonight?"

Jack nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, but there's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious. "What's up?"

Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "I was thinking... after the game, would you want to meet my parents? They are  in town, and I'd love for them to meet you."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Really? You want me to meet your family?"

Jack nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah, I want them to see how amazing you are. What do you say?"

Y/N's smile grew wider, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love to, Jack. Thank you for inviting me."

Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him, knowing that Y/N had accepted his invitation. As they went about their respective duties leading up to the game, Jack couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation building inside him. He couldn't wait for his family to meet the woman who had stolen his heart.

After the game ended in a thrilling victory for the Devils, Jack wasted no time in leading Y/N to where his family was waiting outside the arena. As they approached, Jack's heart pounded in his chest, nervousness mixing with excitement.

"Mom, Dad, this is Y/N," Jack said, his voice filled with pride as he introduced Y/N to his parents.

Y/N greeted them with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "It's so nice to finally meet you both. Jack has told me so much about you."

Jack's parents exchanged a knowing glance, a smile tugging at their lips. They could see just how much Jack was head over heels in love with Y/N, and they couldn't be happier for him.

"It's wonderful to meet you too, Y/N," Jack's mom said, pulling her into a hug. "We've heard a lot about you too."

As they chatted and laughed together, Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. Seeing Y/N getting along so well with his family only reaffirmed his feelings for her.

As they continued to chat, Jack's dad couldn't help but tease Jack a little. "So, Jack, when were you planning on introducing us to this lovely lady? We were starting to think you were keeping her all to yourself."

Jack laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "I wanted to make sure it was the right time, Dad. But I'm glad you finally get to meet her."

Y/N chuckled at the exchange, feeling instantly at ease with Jack's family. "Well, I'm just grateful Jack invited me. I've been looking forward to meeting you both."

Jack's mom smiled warmly at Y/N. "We're glad you're here, dear. Jack hasn't stopped talking about you since the day he met you."

Jack's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't hide the smile that spread across his face. "I can't help it. Y/N is pretty amazing."

The conversation flowed effortlessly as they walked to Jack's family's car, Jack's younger brother Luke joining in with his usual enthusiasm. Luke immediately took a liking to Y/N, chatting animatedly with her about the latest hockey game and sharing stories from his own experiences with the team.

As they reached the car, Jack's mom turned to Y/N with a twinkle in her eye. "Y/N, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We'd love to get to know you better."

Y/N's eyes lit up with excitement, and she glanced at Jack for confirmation. He nodded eagerly, his heart swelling with happiness at the prospect of spending more time with Y/N and his family.

"I would love to," Y/N said with a bright smile. "Thank you so much for the invitation."

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The dinner scene unfolded with a comforting ambiance of familial warmth, as the aroma of delicious home-cooked meals filled the air and laughter resonated throughout the room. Jack's family had gone above and beyond to make Y/N feel welcomed, and as they all sat around the table, it was evident that this evening would leave a lasting impression on everyone present.

As the meal progressed, Jack's mom, with her nurturing demeanor, couldn't resist peppering Y/N with questions, eager to learn more about the woman who had captured her son's heart. "Y/N, dear, you must tell us more about yourself. Jack has told us so much, but we want to hear it from you."

Y/N, her cheeks flushed with warmth at the attention, smiled gratefully. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. I grew up in a small town not too far from here, and ever since I can remember, I've had a passion for hockey. It's been a dream come true to work with the Devils."

Jack's dad, a beacon of support and wisdom, nodded approvingly. "That's wonderful to hear, Y/N. We can tell how much you love what you do."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, with Jack's family sharing stories of their own and Y/N reciprocating with tales from her childhood and her experiences with the team. With each passing moment, the bond between Y/N and Jack's family grew stronger, the shared laughter and camaraderie weaving them together like threads in a tapestry.

As the evening drew to a close and the remnants of the meal were cleared away, Jack's mom turned to Y/N with a smile that radiated warmth. "Y/N, we're so grateful to have you here tonight. You've brought so much joy into our home, and we can't wait to spend more time with you in the future."

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude, feeling truly embraced by Jack's family. "Thank you so much for having me. I've had a wonderful time tonight."

Jack found himself walking Y/N to the door, a mischievous glint in his eyes as they exchanged playful banter under the soft glow of the porch light.

"So, did you have fun tonight?" Jack inquired, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he stole a sideways glance at Y/N.

Y/N's smile was radiant, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the evening. "Of course I did. Your family is amazing, Jack. I feel so lucky to have met them."

Jack's heart swelled with affection at her words, his gaze lingering on her as they approached the front door. "Well, they're pretty fond of you too, you know. I think my mom might like you more than she likes me."

Y/N laughed, a melodious sound that sent a shiver down Jack's spine. "I highly doubt that, but I appreciate the sentiment."

With a surge of boldness, Jack closed the remaining distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away as they shared the moment, the gentle rhythm of their hearts beating in sync.

Little did they know, Luke had been watching from the hallway, a knowing smile spreading across his face. He had always suspected there was a spark between his brother and Y/N, and seeing them together only confirmed his suspicions.

As Jack and Y/N reluctantly pulled away, their cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and bashfulness, Luke couldn't resist teasing them. "Well, well, well, looks like someone finally worked up the courage to make a move."

Jack's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he shot Luke a playful glare. "Mind your own business, Luke."

Y/N giggled, feeling a newfound sense of camaraderie with Jack's younger brother. "Don't worry, Jack. I think it's sweet."

With a final goodbye and promises to see each other again soon, Y/N stepped out into the night, leaving Jack standing in the doorway with a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart that he knew would linger long after she was gone.

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As they sat in the meeting, Jack and Y/N couldn't deny the magnetic pull between them, their gazes constantly gravitating towards each other despite the discussions happening around them. It was as if the air crackled with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires, heightening the tension between them to almost unbearable levels.

Jack found himself mesmerized by Y/N's every movement, from the way her hair fell in gentle waves around her face to the way her lips curved into a subtle smile. He longed to reach out and brush his fingers against hers, to feel the warmth of her touch and lose himself in the depths of her eyes.

Meanwhile, Y/N's heart raced with each stolen glance at Jack, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to finally give in to the undeniable attraction between them, to explore the depths of their connection without any inhibitions holding them back.

As the meeting dragged on, the tension between Jack and Y/N only seemed to intensify, reaching a crescendo that left them both breathless. Every accidental touch sent shivers down their spines, igniting a fire within them that threatened to consume them whole.

Finally, as the meeting came to an end and the rest of the team began to file out of the room, Jack and Y/N shared a lingering look filled with silent promises and unspoken desires. It was a moment that spoke volumes, a silent agreement to explore the depths of their connection and embrace the undeniable chemistry between them.

And as they stepped out of the meeting room and into the bustling office, the rest of the team couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the dynamic between Jack and Y/N. They exchanged knowing looks and playful nudges, silently rooting for them to finally acknowledge the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

For Jack and Y/N, the tension between them was undeniable, a palpable electricity that coursed through their veins and bound them together in a way that neither of them could resist. 

The air in the locker room was charged with excitement as the team prepared for another game. Amidst the hustle and bustle, Jack stole a moment alone with Y/N, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation.

"Hey, Y/N," Jack said, his voice laced with a hint of flirtation as he flashed her a playful grin.

Y/N turned to him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

Jack took a deep breath, summoning all his courage as he reached out to gently cup Y/N's cheek. "I've been thinking, and I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me. Like, officially."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Really? You mean like, be your girlfriend?"

Jack nodded, his heart racing with anticipation. "Yeah, exactly like that. So, what do you say?"

Y/N's smile widened into a grin as she leaned in closer to Jack, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, I suppose I could make an exception for you, Hughes."

With that, Jack's face broke into a radiant smile as he leaned in to capture Y/N's lips in a sweet, tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, the warmth of their embrace enveloping them like a cocoon.

And then, as if on cue, the rest of the team burst into applause, their cheers filling the locker room with a chorus of celebration. Jack and Y/N pulled away from each other, their cheeks flushed with happiness as they basked in the glow of their newfound relationship.

As the applause died down, Jack couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the incredible woman standing before him. With her by his side, he knew that anything was possible, and he couldn't wait to embark on this new chapter of their lives together.

And so, amidst the cheers and laughter of their teammates, Jack and Y/N shared one final kiss, sealing their newfound love with a promise to cherish each other for eternity.

[amethystina]

Hi! Reading your fics, which are mainly post canon, I was wondering... do you ever imagine gahan getting married and talking about kids (besides Elijah, of course) or do you think they would just stick to each other's company and that would be enough?

Personally, I love the ideia of Yo Han being able to raise a child in a fully open loving way, without the restrictions he had to put on Elijah (we saw a few glimpses of how he used to be with her before the fire). After 10 year in anger and in chase for revenge, Yo Han deserves some peace, I wonder if he ever considerated a child as part of it (we can't forget his own childhood). Knowing how deep he can love someone, it feels such a loss not being able to have a person that only knows him for that, openly, without the mask he used to put on in front Ga On and Elijah (i don't know if you'll get what I mean lol).

I'd just love to know your personal's head canon for that 😅 Since, for me, you're so good in thinking as Yo Han.

I imagine that they will, yes — in most scenarios I can think of. I mean, granted, the marriage can obviously never happen in South Korea (and not only because Yo Han is officially dead) but I think they'd definitely end up building an even bigger family somewhere down the line.

As I've touched on in Who Holds the Devil, I think that Ga On 100% wants kids. And, let's face it, he'd be such a good dad. But, that said, he would never force Yo Han to want kids since... well, that's not very like Ga On, is it? He wouldn't want to do that to Yo Han or the kid/kids.

So, in the end, the decision on whether or not they end up getting kids lies with Yo Han. And, as with many of my theories, I think his answer depends on when he would be asked that question. Like, during canon? I think he'd say no, without a moment's hesitation. Or on pure reflex might be a better way of putting it. Because, at that point in his life? He wouldn't consider kids to be something for him. He's so defensive, so convinced of his own darkness, and also well aware of how poorly he treated Elijah.

He did his best — but that's also the problem. Even his best left the child in his care to become a bitter, isolated teenager with little to no social skills. He'd no doubt be convinced that he'd only fuck up again if he was ever in charge of raising another child. So why bother? Clearly, it's not for him. And not fair to the child, either.

But after he gets settled with Ga On? Especially a year or two down the line? After they've dealt with the majority of the guilt and trauma and gotten comfortable? And Yo Han has softened even more? And gets to have a stable, loving home environment for the first time in his life?

Then his opinion would most likely change, especially once he starts suspecting that Ga On wants kids. Because Yo Han, as we all know, can't deny Ga On anything. That's not to say that he would agree immediately, though.

Quite the opposite.

He'd have to think about it a lot before reaching a conclusion. Because I think he'd panic a bit at first. Like, when he first realises that Ga On wants kids? That's terrifying. Because, again, up until that point I think Yo Han has just decided that kids aren't for him. And his first instinct won't be to reevaluate if that decision has changed, but rather feel a kneejerk rush of: "That's not something I can give him. I'm going to have to crush his dream of having children. I'm going to make him miserable."

And Yo Han would feel terrible.

But then, thankfully, his rational side would kick in and try to straighten out what's actually going on. As in, Yo Han would ask himself if he might just have changed his mind about kids now that he has a stable partner — especially one who balances and complements him as well as Ga On does. Maybe kids aren't out of reach anymore?

But even once Yo Han realises that, yeah, he might actually want kids after all — at least if it's with Ga On — he'd also have to overcome the fear that he'll fuck them up as much as he accidentally ruined Elijah. But, again, it helps to know that Ga On would be there, making sure that Yo Han doesn't go overboard with the protectiveness. Ga On wouldn't let Yo Han hurt another child like he hurt Elijah.

Yo Han would also have to figure out how a child would change his relationship with Ga On, their relationship with Elijah, and their existence overall. And he'd have to overcome that quiet, simmering fear at the back of his mind that he might turn out to be like his father.

Yo Han is good at thinking on his feet and can obviously be spontaneous and unpredictable when needed, but I think he'd approach "Do I want kids?" like it's one of his schemes. He'd collect data, meticulously structure his thoughts, weigh pros and cons, plot and plan, and, finally, reach a conclusion.

Because having a child — starting a family — would be huge for Yo Han.

I mean, he obviously already has a family, but it's one that Yo Han didn't have all that much input in? Miss Ji is there because his father hired her. Yo Han became Elijah's guardian due to incredibly tragic circumstances and because there was no one else who could take her. Ga On came into his life because of Jung Sun Ah's machinations, and was intended to be a weapon against him.

But having a child? Choosing to have a child? And build a bigger family with Ga On? That's no small thing.

And, for the best result, I think Yo Han should probably be left alone with that thought for literal months to have time to work through his own thoughts and feelings on the matter before he and Ga On ever broach the subject. If they do it too soon, Yo Han could get defensive and start deflecting without meaning to, which would no doubt make Ga On backtrack and just... resign himself to the idea that Yo Han clearly doesn't want kids. Because Ga On, too, knows that Yo Han can't deny him anything and he'd be afraid that if he pushes too hard — or shows how much he wants kids — Yo Han might feel forced to agree. So Ga On would rather pull back and drop the subject instead of feeling like he's making too many demands.

But once Yo Han has thought it through? And realises that, yes, he wants kids?

Then he's all-in in that way only Kang Yo Han can be.

He'd still be terrified from time to time, of course — because he did grow up thinking he was a monster and that will resurface when he's got tiny humans to take care of — but oh man he'd love those kids with every fibre of his being. And I totally agree that it would be so, so wonderful to see him do that, without having to hold back or be afraid of being seen as soft or weak (as he no doubt did with Elijah).

All he has to do is love them.

My personal headcanon (i.e. this is something I'm choosing to believe because I want to, since I'm not sure what Yo Han would actually think) is that Yo Han wouldn't want those kids to be his biological ones, though. I think that, somewhere deep down, he'd be scared they'd turn out like him. That whatever it is that makes him so vicious and different would be hereditary. So he'd prefer the kids to be adopted or, even better, Ga On's.

Like, just imagine how much Yo Han would love to have miniature Ga Ons running around?

He'd practically combust from happiness.

(but he would obviously love the kids either way — Yo Han, if anyone, knows that chosen family is more important than blood relations)

So yeah! I totally agree that they'll get a kid/kids sometime in the future. It just feels like the kind of family that both Ga On and Yo Han would want considering their childhoods and how lonely and isolated they've both been. Ga On is the one who expresses a longing for family the most, but it's clear that Yo Han wants that, too. And I think there's something very beautiful in it being their choice to start that family? Something they're creating together because they want to?

They deserve that love and peace.

But it would take a while for them to reach that point, since it's such a big decision and there would be a lot of heightened emotions involved. And they would also have to spend a lot of time preparing Elijah for it, to make sure she doesn't feel neglected or replaced. But, hopefully, she's had enough therapy and matured enough by that point that she'll eventually come around. She'd of course be wary at first and perhaps a little snappish from time to time, until she realises that, sure, there are more kids in the house now, but her relationship with both Yo Han and Ga On is still unique and they're not abandoning her.

And once they reach that stage?

It'll turn into a full-time job to keep Elijah from a) spoiling the kids rotten, b) undermining all of the hard work they (but mostly Ga On) put into teaching the kids about rules and responsibility, and c) kidnapping the kids and holding them for ransom whenever Yo Han makes her angry and she wants to punish him. Complete with a hostage-like exchange once he caves and eventually apologises — which sometimes requires Ga On's intervention because he would like his kids back now, thank you very much, so suck it up and just apologise, Mr. Abyss.

They'd be a wonderful little family and deliriously happy, in other words.

[rottiens]

PRETTY IN THE DARK | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ tags. . noncon/dubcon vampire getō x human fem reader, blood, objectification, 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune. | WC: 2.3K

✮ about. . in your desire to protect your family, you end up making a deal with the devil.

He is sitting in the dining room when you enter the room. Your body doesn't react with a shrug of muscles as it was usual to do every time you encountered him wandering around as if he owned your apartment, but your heartbeat detonates as if someone has pushed you from behind and you plummet into the void.

Shadows take over every corner of your place as if this were their and Suguru's home and not yours. You breathe, exhaling the fright that has frozen your veins and move towards the switch blindly, sliding your fingers along the wall until you manage to make light.

Suguru squints his eyes being struck by the ace of light. He is sitting in one of the chairs with his elbows on the small wooden table, he has a half bun tying part of his hair up, the rest of the black hair falls down his back perfectly. The turtleneck sweater is new, it makes him look more elegant and you almost laugh at how formal he looks.

"I wasn't expecting you today," you say approaching, dropping the keys of the apartment on the table surface. You want to tell him he's quite the dramatist for setting this scene for you, the waiting in the dark in your apartment god knows what for so long, the absence of light, the black clothes… you wonder how long he's lasted waiting there for you, if he's gone through your kitchen, if he's rummaged through your clothes.

His clear eyes scan your face as if reading what you're thinking, then he notices the paper bags you drop next to your keys before answering. "I thought I'd stop by for a snack" He replies with a mocking tone.

"What's this?" you reach out to grab the glass bottle in front of him. Inside a red, almost black liquid swirls amusedly as you move it back and forth in search of something to give you a clue as to what it might be and you pray it's not what you're thinking.

"Beet juice." The confession makes you scrunch up your face in distaste. Okay, it wasn't what you were thinking but this doesn't make it any less gross. "It's good for the red blood cells."

You squint to examine it better. Was he giving you a gift? Was that what he meant? The vampire who had threatened to kill your family if you didn't feed him your blood?

"I'm not going to drink it." You set the bottle down on the table with a thud.

"You will. I need you to be healthy." There it is, the reason. You should have known better.

Suguru pulls his hands away from his face that drop his jaw, invisible hands squeeze your chest at the sight of him again, it was a strange feeling having him erase your memory after feeding on you to make you forget details about him that you don't need to know, just in case you decide to expose him to the church. So seeing him always makes you feel uneasy, he is handsome, his small eyes are intimidating and the whole aura around him makes you feel tiny.

"Shall we get this over with?" you raise an eyebrow looking to put an end to an encounter that shouldn't be any longer than necessary. You move the sleeve of your sweater up revealing your right wrist which begins to heal, at the juncture are two dots on your skin, around them the flesh takes on a yellowish color.

Suguru gets up from his seat and without taking his eyes off you sits on the chair next to you. His fingers take your hand gently, without wasting time he brings it to his mouth and his lips brush against your skin causing you to tingle, he breathes in your scent, breathes in the essence of your skin with his eyes closed.

"Stand up," he suddenly orders.

You move against the wall, trembling with fear and anticipation. Suguru is in front of you taking up all the space that allows you to see the rest of the room, your gaze riveted on the silver cross hanging from his neck and you snort at the irony.

With his finger he lifts your chin and makes you look at him, you want to run away, but you force yourself to be brave by chewing on the bottom of your cheek.

"You don’t have to compelled me." Suguru raises an eyebrow, questioningly. "I'm not going to scream."

Surprise marks the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth in a brief smile. "You want to feel the pain?"

You shake your head before pulling your face away from his finger yanking back. "I just want to know what it feels like." You feel guilty. A bitter cocktail rises in your stomach, you think it's unfair to have to be protecting your family without knowing exactly how you do it, what happens before, during or after. You feel guilty for not feeling pain.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he speaks softly. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut ignoring the hotness that suddenly chokes you.

Instead of answering you reach out your hand, you hear him chuckle softly and when you sense him lowering your hand back to its place you turn hurriedly to look for him, wondering why. The hope that he is going to let you go today crosses in front of you.

"I want from the vein in your neck."

You swallow. Suguru can't disguise staring at your throat and how it rises and falls. Wordlessly you push down on the fabric of the sweater collar and let him see the vein pulsing rapidly thanks to your racing heart.

Suguru moves closer to you, his teeth grazing you as if testing how fast he can break the skin. Then, he deposits a kiss that makes you clench your lips to keep from moaning, his tongue glides in wet circles that that warm the area and your body trembles.

"Hold still."

Is all you hear before suguru opens his mouth in an inhuman way and sinks his long fangs into your neck, the pain making you moan involuntarily. His fangs are sharp needles that sink into the flesh and pierce until they leave two holes just enough for blood to spill out of the vein. The piercing pain stops, instead you feel his soft lips sucking like he's giving a hickey.

"It hurts…" you whimper.

The sounds of your blood gurgling in his mouth deafens you, you drop your eyelids as he pushes your head further to the side in an awkward position so he has the space to go deeper and chase the spilling crimson stream.

A hand-shaped snake crawls up your navel, searches for the button of your pants and in seconds undoes it to find your panties. Suguru stops feeding to speak in your ear.

"I'm going to make you feel better." His voice is almost unrecognizable, less friendly, deeper and more terrifying. "I'm going to keep feeding on you and you're going to cum on my long fingers."

You don't even respond. You can't complain because of the way your hands lose feeling and your knees buckle. Suguru goes back to sucking as the pad of his cold fingers push your pussy lips wide open and squeeze your clit back and forth almost in a lazy way. You squint harder to imagine that you're not there, that you're somewhere else and this isn't happening. Because what kind of person would you be if you felt pleasure because this creature, who every week comes to feed on you, is making you feel good?

He slips a finger easily inside you masking the pain in your neck with pleasure. Suguru pushes it in as if searching for something, then adds another finger and a louder moan tears your throat. Suguru pauses to lay his forehead on your throat, giving one last lick to the open wound that slowly stops bleeding and just lies there enjoying his long fingers parting your wet pussy.

"You taste so good when you're aroused," he growls, thrusting slowly. "I can hardly stop myself."

His fingers increase the intensity of his strokes, massaging your pussy in an erotic back-and-forth, scissoring his fingers and thumb touching your clit. It doesn't take your body long to reach orgasm, shattering you to pieces and making the lack of blood make you feel dizzy. Helpless and weak, you cling to his sweater, intoxicated in the peculiar perfume that envelops him until you begin to see black and everything becomes one big swirl that makes you fall into a deep sleep.

. . . When you wake up you are in your bed, lying on your back with one of your plush blankets covering your legs. You try to sit up but your body aches, especially your neck. You bring your fingers to where the wound should be but find the soft fabric of one of your scarves wrapped around your neck.

"Was I too rough?" This time, your body does react by curling up on the mattress. You pull your legs up to the level of your chest and search for the voice that burst into your room.

You find him as a long figure standing at the edge of the bed looking down at you from above. Did he care? Clearly not, because his mischievous-looking smile tells you otherwise.

You begin to tremble as he approaches, your gaze following him as you watch him come closer to you. The bed sinks with his weight, he reaches for one of your arms hugging your knees and pulls it towards him, Suguru brings the back of your hand to his mouth and leaves a kiss there, and the scene is so intimate that it feels awkward to you.

His body sensation is not icy cold as it normally is, his warm hands mimic the warmth of an ordinary man and you have a theory that it is due to the temperature change your fresh blood briefly carries in him, this only lasts a couple of minutes after all.

You wonder what he's doing, what he's playing at. Your heart leaps out of your chest the moment Suguru starts a path of kisses from your palm to your wrist, your blood turns icy cold after he stops on your wrist, you stutter his name, you think he's going to bite you again but what he does instead takes you by surprise.

Suguru gives you a long lick, the taste of your body cream diluted in the day's sweat soaks his tongue, then he closes his lips around the area and makes a hickey. Red, small, and when he pulls away to contemplate his creation it almost looks like the shape of a map. He crawls from your skin reluctantly and looks at you between heavy lashes, there's lust in his gaze mixed with hunger and desire and you hate yourself for the way your body reacts, your nipples harden and your pussy gets wet for him again.

"What-"

"No one touches my property." Your eyes widen. "This should carry a message to whoever you're fucking, unless of course, you wish me to show up in person to your job."

You reeked of man perfume and it made him want to throw up. He didn't want to smell someone else's scent on you when he was feeding.

"That's not of your business," you spit with a boiling face and a flutter in your stomach, tugging at your hand to escape the trap it had fallen into but it's only in vain because his strength is triple yours and you don't move an inch. "Our deal is just my blood."

"Perhaps," suguru murmurs, flashing you in a brief smile just the tips of the fangs that a moment ago were digging into you. "But it will be your fault when I bring their head as an offering along with another bottle of beet juice."

You struggle to hold back tears of helplessness. He grins again and his teeth cut through the darkness, you clear your throat to fight back and say it's not fair however Suguru gets up before you can.

Gracefully, he gives a brief tour of the room. You are embarrassed that he finds it in this state, books on your bed, shoes out of place and clothes on the floor. You were in a rush this morning, you were going to be late and you prioritized time over tidying your safe space as you rummaged through your uniform shirt.

He removes the hair tie that grips his mane and lets it fall all the way down his back like a dark waterfall as he looks down at the jeans on the floor, on top of it is a pair of light pink panties that he observes undisguised. As if every move is planned he ties all his hair back into a high ponytail, the movements causes the black sweater to ride up his abdomen revealing a wink of toasted skin, with a line of hair revealing itself at the edges of his pants and rising blurred to his belly button.

"How are you feeling?" He asks suddenly, dropping his arms to either side.

"Do you even care?" you reply curtly, looking down at his feet. You glance up at him in time to see him smirk, clearly amused by your attitude.

Suguru moves towards you again and you wonder when you will stop feeling not enough in his presence. He sits at your feet, puts his hand to his mouth and bites down hard. Your body squirms at the action, raw fear showing on your wrinkled nose and furrowed brow.

"Drink," he says reaching out, droplets of blood slipping onto your favorite blanket.

"No."

"It's not a request, sweetheart." You don't understand what he intends by this but you don't seek to make him angry either, so you lean down and wrap your lips around his skin to finally suck the blood that spurts out of him.

The taste of iron is so strong it's unbearable. Your mouth fills with saliva and your stomach knots warning you with rejecting what you are drinking, you want to move away but his hand is behind the back of your neck pulling you closer to him and preventing your escape.

"Keep sucking. Your wound will heal faster that way."

You blink faster pushing away the tears that peek out, you close your eyes tightly becoming oblivious to what you are doing, his fingers pampering your hair as if you were a pet. Stroking you gently.

"Swallow. That's a good girl."

[khuzena]

Fable

Pairing: Sunday x gn!reader

cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.

Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praises— if only attaining salvation was so easy.

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((

“Repent, sinner.” Sunday whispered as he held your hand, “Repent.”

"Sunday— let go” you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.

The priest’s eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painful—a thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.

“Please,” he said, voice clipped. “You know this isn't the answer— it's never too late.”

“Just go,” you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. “But you’re right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.”

You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his ‘pure’ soul, “You're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?”

“Redemption.” He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. “Even someone like you—someone who parades their sin as if it’s a crown—you could still be saved. Even now.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. “Saved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?” You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?”

Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. “You speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think there’s peace in… in this?” He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. “All I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.”

Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. “Freedom?” You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. “Tell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?” You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. “You clutch that Bible like it’s a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but you’re the one running. From what, exactly?”

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if you’d struck a nerve. “I serve the Lord,” he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. “I bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.”

You smirked, unbothered. “Hope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I don’t kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I don’t need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a ‘sinner’ in your eyes, but I don’t preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own way—without the guilt. And without shame.”

For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at you—really looked at you—as if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldn’t name.

“Kindness without repentance is hollow,” he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.

“And blind faith without understanding is cruelty,” you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. “You think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people don’t need sermons. They need food, a place to sleep—a little mercy, not lectures.”

He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. “I’ll… pray for you.”

A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. “Pray for yourself, Father. You’re the one who seems lost here.”

“I just want to save you,” He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, “Please, just repent. There's always a place for you in the church”

An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, “A place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?”

A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.

“What are you doing to me?”

“I just want to save you,” his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, “Just listen to me.”

“Stop, stop—” no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faith— one you could never share.

Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipe’s presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.

His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.

“I don't want you to rot in hell,” he trails off, kissing your knuckles, “I’ve never felt this before— Xipe owns my body, my soul.”

Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?

His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiled— he’s determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.

He presses his lips again to your knuckles, “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.

Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save you—

However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.

When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.

Please, Xipe. Please do something about them—

If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.

“That's enough Sunday—”

“It's not.”

His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.

You should run away, you should push him away.

You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.

But a part of you wants saving.

A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.

But you can’t.

With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.

The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sunday’s fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipe’s mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see you—to reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.

"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldn’t contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.

You're still a sinner through and through.

Sunday’s fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol he’d left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking in—that his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol he’d etched might be nothing more than a stain.

His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.

“I love you— I want you.”

“Then want me.”

‘Want me without fear’ - what you should've said.

He shakes his head, swallowing. “I can’t. To want you… to touch you? I’d lose everything.” Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.

“Then why are you here?” you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.

“Because you’re worth saving.” His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.

You laugh bitterly. “Even if I don’t want it?”

“It’s not just for you!” His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to believe… that you can be saved, that I can—” He falters, his eyes darkening. “What if I’m here because I’m as damned as you?”

“Then maybe you should let go of salvation.”

His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rot— that he can't do anything about it?

And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he prays—more for himself than for you.

"I’ve seen hell, and it’s not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "It’s in the way you look at me—like I’m nothing but a sin."

A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though he’ll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence falls—a prayer unsaid, a salvation he’s not even sure he can give.

His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.

He leans in, lips hovering just above yours—a kiss he tells himself is selfless.

“I'll pray for you."

I'll forgive you.

Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK— I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN

special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember 😈

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[brainddeadd]

Request for Jack. He’s asked about you during an after game interview…maybe dating rumors?

The arena was buzzing with excitement after the New Jersey Devils' recent win, the sounds of cheering fans echoing through the halls. Jack Hughes walked off the ice, adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the game. His teammates were patting him on the back, but his thoughts were elsewhere—mainly on you.

As he entered the interview room, cameras flashed, and reporters clamored for his attention. Jack took a seat, a confident grin on his face as he adjusted his jersey. The first few questions were typical: game highlights, strategies, and what it felt like to score that crucial goal. But then, one reporter leaned in, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Jack, there have been some rumors swirling about you and a certain someone,” they said, glancing at their notes. “Can you tell us about your relationship with [Y/N]?”

The room quieted, all eyes on him, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. You had been spending a lot of time together lately, but he hadn’t expected this question to come up so soon.

“Uh, well,” he started, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips. “You know how it is. People like to talk, especially when you’re winning.”

A chuckle rippled through the gathered reporters, and he leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. “But yeah, [Y/N] is amazing. We hang out a lot. She’s really supportive of me, and I appreciate that.”

The reporter pressed further, clearly enjoying the moment. “So are we to take that as confirmation that you two are dating?”

Jack glanced around, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, but he didn’t mind. He loved the thought of you being recognized, even if it was just in rumors. “Let’s just say she’s someone special to me,” he replied, a smile breaking through. “But I’ll leave the details to her.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jack leaned into it, his confidence soaring. “I’m just trying to focus on the game, you know? But if you want to know more, maybe you should ask her!”

With that, the questions shifted back to hockey, but Jack could still feel the buzz of speculation in the air. As the interview wrapped up, he walked out with a satisfied grin, his thoughts drifting to you and how you would react to all the chatter.

Later that night, after the excitement of the game faded, he sent you a quick text:

“Just so you know, I might have confirmed our relationship status in a post-game interview. What do you think?”

He grinned at the thought of your reaction, eagerly awaiting your response as he imagined the playful banter that was sure to follow.

[hisnumber1]

Devil's Embrace

Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Summery: (Y/n) had found herself at the hazbin hotel. She never thought of redemption but she got a free room while she does her work. (Y/n) made outfits and tailored for people if they pay enough. She loves trying to make unique dresses for balls or for higher class. Keeping her name in the high class of hell, she tailored for the king of hell himself. Finding herself tailoring for him in the hotel of his daughter is an interesting situation.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: fluff, slowburn, close proximity.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

I find myself leaning back in my seat, sighing. Watching AngleDust flirt with Husker and he growls in response. Charlie is putting more stuff on her board as she tries to figure out how to make the hotel work. I jump back on feet, strolling down the hallway ways to get to my room. I walk into my room filled with drawing and projects I've worked on. I fall flat on my face into my bed, I turn my head, looking at my recent project of a dress.

The dress was a long ballroom dress, with a long v going down the chest. The sleeves were mesh, and at the top it came off the shoulder. The skirt came out and poofed out, with the back covered in a long black mesh. The dress was white, with highlights of red, all of the mesh was black, giving it a dark energy.

Something just seems off, I don't know what it is but it just does. I hear a ping come from across the room. Lifting up my head and seeing my phone light up, I groan as I pull myself up. Walking to my table, I grab my phone and sit on the table. I read the notification, it was an email. I tapped on it, scanning over the text.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

I hope this email finds you well. I recently purchased a suit, while I am pleased with the quality and style, I find that it is slightly larger than my measurements. Therefore, I am writing to inquire about the possibility of having it tailored to a smaller size.

The suit in question is a white Shawl Lapel with red highlights, the fabrics are jacquard and velvet, and I purchased it about a week ago. I have attached a copy of the receipt for your reference.

I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with information on the process and cost involved in resizing the suit. Additionally, if you require any further measurements or details, please do not hesitate to let me know.

I am eager to have the suit adjusted so that it fits perfectly, and I trust your expertise in handling this matter. I am available to schedule an appointment at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your attention to this request. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Warm regards,

Lucifer Morningstar"

I sigh as I look at the photos he sent. It is a beautiful suit, but if I did it, the style would be better, but it is not mine. Thinking of what the price is, I need to get his exact measurements to tailor it correctly. Pressing the reply button, I started typing out my reply.

'Dear Mr. Morningstar,

Thank you for reaching out and for providing the details regarding your suit purchase. I appreciate your trust in our tailoring services.

I will be more than happy to assist you with resizing your suit to ensure a perfect fit. Before proceeding, could you please bring the suit to my studio for a fitting session? This will allow me to accurately assess the alterations needed and provide you with a precise cost estimate.

Once I have examined the suit, we will discuss the adjustments required and provide you with a timeline for completion.

Please let us know a convenient time for you to visit our store, and we will schedule an appointment accordingly. Feel free to contact us if you have any further questions or concerns.

Looking forward to seeing you soon and assisting you with your tailoring needs.

Best regards,

(Y/n) (L/n)'

I read over the email before hitting send. 'Wait, isn't Charlie his daughter?' I thought as I look back over his name. I press another reply button and put the the address, letting him know where he could meet me. Tossing my phone onto my bed, I walk out into the lobby again, sitting on the bar stool. "A shot of anything strong." I grumbled at Husk, he was cleaning a glass when he heard me. "What's the occasion?" He asked grabbing a shot glass before pouring some. "Work." I groan with my head on the bar, keeping my eyes shut, my headache gets worse with light.

"Ever thought of getting anything for those migraines?" Husk asked when he placed down the shot, I look up, grabbing the shot and downing it. "Another please. I've looked into it, but I don't need to, I'll just deal with it." Sighing as I push the shot towards Husk. He shakes his head as he pours another one, pushing it towards me. Taking the glass and downing it again.

I hear Charlie in the lobby talking to Vaggie about something, I turn to her. "Hey Charlie. Your dad is gonna come in a few days." I slur out, catching her attention she turned me wide eyed. "What?" She asked as she walked closer. "I'm tailoring a suit of his, I told him I need to take measurements cause he could have grown in the last year." I replied to her. "So he's coming to the hotel?" "Yeah, I think so." Replying to her she chuckled a but before pacing back and forth. "He's only gonna be in my room, just to get measured. He's one my highest paying customers." I chuckle, feeling the alcohol get to my system.

"He emailed me a few minutes ago about getting a suit tailored. I told him that I needed for take his measurements and then I would come up with the price." I explain to her. Charlie's pacing got faster, but she's stops when Vaggie puts her hand on her shoulder. "When would he be here?" Vaggie asked me and I shrugged.

"I can go see if he answered if you would like?" I got up from my seat, walking to my room. Opening my door, I walk to my bed, grabbing my phone. I look at the notifications, seeing a email. I walk out to the lobby, opening the email.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

Thank you for your prompt response and for offering to assist with resizing my suit. I appreciate your attention to detail and professionalism in addressing my tailoring needs.

I will certainly bring the suit to your studio for a fitting session. I propose scheduling the appointment for this Friday afternoon around 2:00 PM. Please let me know if this time works for you, or if an alternative time would be more convenient.

I look forward to meeting with you and discussing the necessary alterations. Thank you once again for your assistance, and I am confident in your expertise to ensure a perfect fit for my suit.

Best regards,

Mr. Morningstar"

I read out loud. Charlie pauses and starts pacing again. "He can't come. We don't even know if this works. If he comes he'll know I failed." Charlie said lowly, Vaggie hugs her and kisses her cheek. "It'll be fine love." She said as she pulled away from the hug. Vaggie looked over at me and sighed. "He'll be here in two days, just make sure he is only here for that a not going anywhere else. Charlie isn't ready to face him at the moment." She said as she looked up at the clock to check the time.

I nod, I grab the shot glass and down the last one before walking to my room. Falling onto my bed, a breath left my lungs as I hit the bed. I turn over and pick up my phone, unlocking it and looking at the photo of the suit. Thinking for a second, it looks a lot like the dress. Looking between my phone and the dress on the lay figure, they would look together.

Standing up from my bed, I tiptoe to the sewing mannequin. I run my finger across it, looking back at the photo and then back at the dress. A light bulb lit up and I ran to my desk, grabbing safety pins. Taking out my sewing needles, turning on my machine, grabbing buttons. I pull the mannequin next to the desk, sketching out the idea in my head.

A bang woke me from my slumber, I jerk up and look around. Standing in my door way is AngleDust, he looks out of breath. "(Y/n)! My shirt is ruined!" He said as he walked closer with his torn shirt. I groan and put my head back on the desk. "You alright toots?" He asks as he puts his arm on my shoulder. "I'm fine, I finally figured out what was wrong with the dress, and I fixed it. There is a problem though, Lucifer is gonna be here tomorrow and he's kinda matching with his suit." A groan left my mouth, Angle walks over to dress. "It's gorgeous. I mean it's always been." He said as he looked over it.

Sighing as I felt my eyes closing. I stayed up all night working on it, adding new fabrics, adding the details. I felt myself falling asleep again as Angle looked over the dress.

My eyes slowly open, I groan as I sit up. "My back hurts like hell." Groaning as I stood up. It looked dark out, I must have slept all day. Walking out of my room into the lobby, the lights were still on so someone was awake. Yawning as I walk to the bar, my eyes saw Alastor, he was sitting on the couch as he read a newspaper. "Morning Al." I yawn as I pour myself something to drink.

His head perked up at my voice. "Morning, you know it's in the late afternoon right?" He asked as he placed his newspaper down.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep last night. So I slept all day." Yawning as I walk over to the couch, sitting next to Alastor. "Why didn't you sleep?" He asked as he sipped his drink. "Working on that dress." I groan. He hummed in response. I downed the rest of my drink before standing up. "Well Lucifer is coming over tomorrow, so I need to sleep. Night Al." "Oh goodnight (Y/n)." He grinned.

I step into my room, closing the door behind me. Sighing as I walk over to my bed, sitting on the edge before falling backwards. Grunting at the sudden stop, I throw my arm over my eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Waking up to my alarm, I groan. I slowly sit up and turn off my phone. I whimper as the sun hits my eyes, I have to get ready and clean up for the appointment. I pick up my phone reading the time, but I saw that I had a email.

'Dear Ms. (Y/n),

Hello, I hope this email finds you in good health. I wanted to make an appointment to have a meeting. I want some new clothes by your hand. If you have the time for a meeting please contact me.

Love,

Valentino <3'

I read over the email before putting my phone down. I really don't want to deal with him right now, I sighed as I went to my drawers. Pulling out some presentable clothes, then walking to my restroom to take a shower. I turn the knob letting the water start, after I pull my clothes off of me, letting it hit the floor. Pulling my undergarments off before sliding into the shower. The hot water hitting my skin and wetting every inch of my body.

I put shampoo in my hair and scrub it in, soap going down my body as I rinse my hair out. Grabbing the bottle for conditioner, letting my hair run under water. Pouring some into my hand before scrubbing it into my scalp. I let the conditioner soak, I wash my body before rinsing off everything. Turning off the water, I grab a towel and put it around my body.

Walking into my room, striding to my bed, where I put my clothes. Taking the towel and drying off my hair before dressing myself. After wards I look at the time, it read 12:47 pm. I sigh, I still have almost two hours before he gets here. I look around the room, seeing my room is a mess, knowing us have to clean it sooner or later.

Cleaning up my room, putting everything in place before he gets here and picking up trash and dirty laundry. I organized everything and I looked at the time, it was 1:36 pm. My eyes widen as I look at the time. "Shit he'll be here soon!" I yelled at myself and I got a new mannequin out for the suit, making sure I knew where everything I needs was. Keeping track of time, I brushed my hair and put on light makeup, so I didn't look like I was dying.

Getting myself mentally prepared to see the sin of pride. He was cocky everytime you saw him, not a bad cocky but like 'he knows he's hot and he's not afraid to show it off' cocky. The man was hot, I can't denie that.

I walk to the lobby waiting for the knock, not a second later I hear it. Walking to the door, slowly opening it to reveal Lucifer. "(Y/n), it's been to long." He grinned as walked in to the hotel, his eyes shifted all over the lobby. "We will be working in a room back here, just follow me." I say as I lead the way to my room. He gladly follows along behind me, still looking everywhere. We make it to my room and I close the door after he walks in.

"Now if you would please stand here." I ask him to stand on a X mark on the floor. He looked down and nods with a smile. "So how have you been (Y/n)? I haven't seen you in about a year." He asked as he gave me the suit. "Eh, tired. I have been working on a new dress over that year, I finally finished it the day before yesterday." I reply, setting the suit on the mannequin.

"Yeah? May I see it?" He asked as he looked around my room. I nodded and I walked into my other room, I have to rooms attached to each other for my bed room and my studio. Rolling the mannequin out, the jewels sparkled in the sun light.

"That is gorgeous." Lucifer said as he walked over, feeling the fabric. "It looks a little familiar." He said as he put his hand on his chin. His eyes caught on the suit and he gasped. "It's like a set! The dress and my suit." Lucifer stated as his eyes light up. I chuckled and nodded. "I noticed that when you sent me the photos."

"I would love to buy it." He said as he looked at it. I stopped in my tracks. "What?" I asked with a chuckle. "How much, I could gift it to my daughter." He stated as he started pulling out his wallet. "I'm not selling it right now. I actually made it for myself, kinda a dream dress." I chuckled nervously.

You could practly hear his face light up. "I've never seen you wear a dress." He said surprised. "Well yeah, I don't like wearing them." "You should put it on." He said. "No." I said flatly.

"Oh come on (Y/n). You even match with the king if hell, why not put it on?" He asked. "Lucifer, I need to start measurements, please stand where you were." I said with no tone. He was a persistent man. "Come on, I would love to see you in it." He purred out. "Lucifer arms up." I said with a measuring tape in my hands. "Come on." He whined out.

As he is begging me to put on the dress, I just ignore him and measure his body. As I measuring his bust to his groan there was blast and the hotel shaked. Causing Lucifer to tumble over and fall on me.

I closed my eyes at feeling of the rumbling, so I didn't know how close he was to me. "Well hello gorgeous." I hear Lucifer say, I open my eyes to see his face a few inches away from mine. "Oh you're wearing makeup, it looks good on you." He complemented me. "Lucifer get up." I say as I start pushing him. "I am darling." He chuckled. Standing up, he offered me a hand, which I gladly took.

"Well that didn't sound good." He stated as he dusted himself off, I nodded in agreement. "I actually finished measuring you, I would probably charge you about $230." I said as I looked over my notebook, adding the measurements. "Always straight to business. That's what I liked about you." He chuckled. Taking money from his wallet, handing it over to me, before I pull away he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. Kissing my knuckles for a moment before pulling away. "Well I'll see myself out, and you should probably check what that sound was." Lucifer said as he started walking out of my room.

Watching him walk off, I felt the heat leave my face. When did that happen? When did my face get so hot? I asked myself, but just blew it off as me just getting hot. Placing down my money on the table, and I hear another bang. Groaning as more rubble falls down in my room. "Ughhh! What is that!?" I yelled out.

A/n: My first story on here and I plan to write more. Sorry if I update slow but I'll get around to doing it!