#I AM SO FUCKING MAD ABOUT THIS SO YOU'D BETTER FUCKING DO IT
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serxa · 3 months ago
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TELEMACHUS HEADCANONS — NSFW and SFW
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General Headcanons
Sfw first, if you don't want to read any NSFW, there will be a divider indicating it's the NSFW part
Honestly, this is the first NSFW work I've posted, I have more hidden in the chamber if you'd like.
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SFW
DATING
- He's mostly shy when you compliment him, when you say "You're so handsome" he'll immediately blush like a school girl, and waving his hands saying "pfft- I may be but you're more handsome-!"
- Telemachus is always the type to do anything you want when you tell him to.
- He wouldn't soften up and practically melt when you hold his face and praise him.
- His first gift to you was a whole bouquet of different flowers from the palace's garden. Penelope wasn't so happy when she saw the bushes looked like it was demolished.
- He's best at comforting you when you had a bad day
- This boy loves his cuddles. Especially after a long day of training with Athena or having to put up with the bullshit the suitors had, he always felt everything was amazing after being in your arms.
- He is a begger, when he wants something or accidentally makes you mad, he's practically go on his knees begging for forgiveness.
- "My love" "Flower" and "Teddy bear" was his go to pet names for you.
- He loved calling you flower because he said you smelled nice like a flower.
- Call's you teddy bear during your cuddle sessions.
- Telemachus loves it when you join him with his training. You're the only person he told you about Athena, and he trains even better in front of you just to impress you.
- Loves to skeem through the jewelry with you, and once he see's your eyes sparkle on one of the jewelries, he immediately tries to buy it for you.
- Buys you flowers every week or two, and he loves seeing that you display them in vases in your room when he visited one time.
ORIGIN AND CONFESSIONS
- When Telemachus and you met near the palace, he was really jumpy because he finally talked to a girl his age.
- Telemachus and you always met up at the front of the palace or near the bush of roses in the nearby forest next to the palace.
- When he realized he like you, he tried his best to stay put and not come off as being pussy when he's giving subtle signs.
- He'd invite you to watch the sunset on the sea side, play in the water with you, let you lay your hand on his lap whenever you two were at the forest, so when you call him just your best friend one time, he went home and bawled his eyes out.
- He confessed to you with a gold bracelet that his mother gave him to give you. Yet he had the audacity to say, "Sorry if its not much-"
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NSFW
- Loud whines
- He can't control his noises if his life depends on it, every single kiss you plant or move you make, makes him whine like a bitch.
- His spanks hurt though, him being trained to fight, he sometimes doesn't think if it hurts too much or not. But immediately regrets it when you cry in pain instead of pleasure.
- He can be a switch, and absolutely destroys you if he's pissed or had a bad day to relieve some stress. One day, he'd be begging you to have mercy, next day, he's plunging himself inside of you with such ecstasy. It's really just based on his emotions.
- Mostly he's a bottom, practically praising you with every movement you do.
- He just stares at you with hooded heart eyes while he bites his lip, staring as his dick disappeared inside of you.
- Tit's guy, but he's always tuso polite with them, scared he might hurt you.
- "Am I squeezing too hard?" He always whispered whenever he squeezes your breasts.
- His fingers are a work of art inside of you, he can make you squirt in just 30 seconds with his fingering you aggressively. Mostly fingers you when he doesn't have a chance to fuck you.
- The Best With Aftercare.
- Like I mean best, every single need and want you request, he immediately does it. Would give you baths and clean you up, even changes the sheets of his bed so he can lay you down comfortably.
- MUNCHER.
- He's devours your pussy like it's the last meal on earth when you let him eat you out. And eat you out he does, since he loves how your orgasm tastes.
- He's sometimes get a bit too excited that he hold your thighs wide open till his pushed a bit too much that it hurts to stretch open. Again, he doesn't think that he might be hurting you too much unless it shows.
- There was one time his mother was gone, and one of the suitors started to flirt with you. And as revenge, Telemachus fucked you so hard you were moaning his name around the castle for the suitors to hear.
- Doesn't degrade you, but will do if you asked. Yet he still feels guilty for calling you those names.
- He loves when you use a leather leash on him, just brings a bit more arousal for him.
- "Please, a bit more.." He begs when you stop mid way, his eyes hooded as he waits for you to continue.
-He's definitely long, but not as thick. But it's long to the point his dick is halfway through, you could easily cum.
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erwinsvow · 8 days ago
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thinking about night shift reader getting jealous when a pretty temp nurse or patient won’t stop flirting with jack
YESYESYES!!🤭 i need that imagine him trying to convince her/ console her and she’s actually so jealous and mad w him
the squeal heard around the world. i loved writing this. i am soo sorry i am terrible at writing about the girl we are supposed to be jealous of, even though this was my own damn idea. i hope you like ♡ this is about 3.6k. oops
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jack abbot is great at being your boyfriend, and he's even better at being a doctor.
he's the kind of boyfriend you spent all of your youth dreaming about, as though he had read the scribbles in your journals growing up, like he'd been right next to your friends when you'd tell them about what you want in a relationship.
sweet, devoted, caring. he takes care of you in ways that you didn't realize you needed to be cared for—does it so effortlessly that you're left wondering how it comes so easily to him. you know he's been in more relationships than you—he was married, and that is something you don't take lightly. he had already found the person he was going to spend forever with, and because of some cruel twist of fate, he ended up alone again.
you can't imagine that. you've been on the night-shift maybe six months, which means you've been official with jack for coming on four months now, and you can't even imagine what a single day without him would be like.
(you've experienced it in the broadest sense of the word—he once got called in at three in the afternoon on a day you both had gotten off. the two of you had only woken up an hour or two ago, and had spent the following time indulging in an afternoon delight, and when his phone went off, you were about to drift off to sleep again against his chest, to the sound of his heart. you still hold a grudge against shen for that day, and you know what it's like to be without him when you're so spoiled by what it's like to be with him—you were miserable until he came back home at ten that night.)
jack abbot is a great boyfriend. he surprises you with your favorite flowers, makes you breakfast because he worries about you not eating enough, and even though he's an old man, he replies to your texts as soon as he gets them, as soon as he can. (but he doesn't really need to, since you're always together anyways.)
but sometimes, your boyfriend is really fucking oblivious.
there's a travel nurse taking over for one of your favorite night-shift nurses' maternity leave. you were sad about it already, being without her, though it's hard to stay upset when she sends you photos of her cute baby napping and videos of him realizing he has fingers.
and you are nothing if not sweet, if not welcoming. you had been the newbie not that long ago, and even though you've settled into a great routine (that only partially includes jack, because despite the fact that the scheduler loves you, you don't get every shift with your boyfriend. that would just be wrong. and distracting, you think), you still remember how hard it was in the beginning.
so you beam at her with your smile, ask her about her hobbies and give her recommendations for the best coffee nearby. you do all the things you'd do if it was anyone else, trying to make sure she feels welcome. (jack told you once that you have a complex about making sure people like you. you told him to shut up.)
the first few shifts with her were fine. you've been on with shen and ellis for a week—that's just the way the schedule was. you and jack both have a golden weekend coming up soon, and there was another couple of days he took off to go visit his sister upstate, so you knew it would be a mildly sad few weeks without him there every night with you. it would be worth it for the forty-eight hours you had been daydreaming about, all of them in jack's apartment, not a single one outside of his bed.
but she'd been on with you every night you'd been there, and nurses only work three times a week—that's what's running through your head when jack comes in for his first shift this week with you. he'd come from his apartment, calling you to tell you that he'd made it back home safely and that he was going to sleep before heading in. you had ended the call securing a promise to get breakfast at the diner after tonight's shift, your usual routine.
but you feel sick to your stomach at eight-thirty, staring at the new nurse and your boyfriend, standing in front of a patient's bed.
jack looks good—he always looks good. his hair isn't as messy yet, his scrubs are still clean. he shifts his weight a little because he's had a long drive back from his sister's, and he didn't get to sleep that much, another reason why you are so excited for this empty weekend. were so excited.
you didn't even think you were the jealous type. how could you have known—with no one ever being so close to you that you had any reason to be jealous? you try to rack your head through a couple of first-dates and your sweet but boring short-term college boyfriend. no, you conclude, you've never been the jealous type.
except now, you suppose, watching the pretty nurse lean in a little too close to jack, showing him something on the tablet in her hands. she stares up at your boyfriend, and he stares at the tablet, and then the patient, and you stare at them. and then you see it—he looks at her and stays something, and she laughs. loudly, flirtatiously. you know that laugh, you see it all around you in a hospital full of flirts. and before either of them can catch you staring, you turn around and find a patient to take care of.
you tell yourself for the next thirty minutes that being jealous and getting angry is awfully immature of you, while stitching up a man with terrible knife skills who had secured his visit tonight during a failed attempt at making hibachi for dinner. you don't even hear him when he asks you when he should return to get the stitches out, and the nurse helping you looks at you in confusion. you never zone out while talking to patients, never leave them hanging. she fills in for you, telling him two weeks while you meander back to central.
and you feel a white hot ball of anger burning in your chest again. she's talking to him again. god—don't they both have jobs to do? she's doing the thing again, leaning in towards your boyfriend, looking at him with an expression that is entirely too familiar to you. it's the one that's constantly on your face—the one that the other night shift crew are probably sick of seeing by now. it's something like adoration and reverence and paying attention to every word he says so you don't miss anything. but hers isn't like yours, there's something else there too.
jack is talking to the patient now, taking a step closer to the bed and away from the nurse, and your thudding heart calms down for half a second before the nurse follows right behind him. and she touches his arm. not a tap, not a poke to get his attention. she wraps her fingers around his bicep, holds on for a little too long, and your boyfriend turns to look at her, and that's when you realize you need a moment.
you shut your eyes. it's times like this that you realize how green you really are when it comes to the whole 'dating a really handsome, really smart guy' thing. but jack has never given you a reason to be worried, has never said or done anything that even made you think he would entertain something like this. you know he wouldn't, he's too good for that, too nice of a boyfriend for that.
but it still stings. and so you turn away immediately, heading back to the desk and leaning against it. you report the two cases you dealt with to ellis, who asks you questions that take you too long to answer. you try to avoid staring at either your boyfriend or the nurse for too long, a storm cloud brewing inside of you when you see her trailing right behind him again.
you haven't even talked to him tonight yet, you think bitterly. miserably. and that nurse has been with him for two hours.
and unfortunately, you're also pretty green at hiding the fact that you're upset too. not to your patients—though you do let shen and ellis run the incoming and settle for debriding and wrapping up a burn instead, sitting behind a shut curtain so jack couldn't find you, if he was looking.
(of course he was looking. you're just caught up in your own head.)
and after that, it's almost ten. jack has a cup of coffee waiting for you, if he can find you. he tells the nurse who's been following him around all night if she can track you down for him, and then the patient with the chest pain he's been monitoring wants to speak with him, so he walks away to do that, stretching his neck to see if you're at one of the beds nearby. you have a pair of pink sneakers you wear, though every single person in your life had told you to buy black ones, him included. you don't listen, and times like this he's thankful, searching for the bright shoes under a few beds before giving up. maybe you had just walked away, maybe he had just missed you.
you're back at central, sending in an order for antibiotic gel and finishing a note. you're not a mean person, it doesn't come very naturally to you, but you do have to try really hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes when you see the nurse walking towards you.
you've been nice to her every day so far. it would be obvious if you started being mean—whatever your version of mean is—now. but it doesn't seem like she would notice, with that same love-sick expression as she sits in the empty chair next to you.
you're grumpy and tired and frankly too busy to deal with this, but when she starts talking, you listen anyways. (screw jack and screw your goddamn complex. you need to learn how to be mean.)
"how is this the first time i'm meeting him?" she asks, and you bite your cheek so hard you think it might be bleeding. you keep typing your note, looking in her direction and forcing a smile—stupid. complex. "he's so handsome."
"what's that now?" you grit, the screen in front of you not making much sense anymore. you backspace and delete the last two sentences that are filled with gibberish and abbreviations that don't exist.
"dr. abbot," she says to you and you think even your fingers are trembling. you are so, so incredibly bad at this. and you don't even realize why—so much anger and sadness pooling inside of you. normally you'd be caffeinated enough for a clear mind on this side of ten o'clock, but you've been avoiding your boyfriend, and therefore avoiding the cup he makes for you every shift.
the nurse rambles on, your heart beating faster with each word she says. dr. abbot is cute and nice and charming and, like, so funny.
i know, you want to yell. i know he's funny! you just met him three hours ago.
but you stay silent, stay nice, no matter how much it's eating at you. you are being extremely immature but everytime you think of how close they were standing and the fact that some other girl touched your boyfriend's arm, you want to black out.
she keeps rambling and you stay silent, trying for the most part to ignore her, until you hear it at the end of one of her sentences.
"he wears a wedding ring, though, i noticed it earlier when we were with that other patient. but i mean, he's a doctor right? they never care about-"
the thoughts you're thinking would get you put into the psych ward, you think.
"-oh, he was looking for you. you need to report to him, right? we were over by bed ten, i think, the guy with chest pain. we were-"
we, we, we. it's all she says.
"he was looking for me?" you repeat, tired of listening and frankly, a bit tired of the weight of your own emotions.
yes, you might be stupid for getting jealous about something like this, but if that's the case, then you accept your own stupidity. you would never touch some nurse's arm like that, not unless you were trying to give someone a hug after a bad loss. and you would never lean in close like that to anyone, no one besides jack. well, jack and that older radiologist who speaks very softly, so you always need to get real close so she doesn't have to keep repeating herself.
you guess you thought jack would feel the same about not doing those things for you. maybe he doesn't care, maybe it's nothing to him. but it's not to you, not right now, not while listening to a temp nurse gush about him all night.
"oh, there he is now. do i look okay? that other incoming was coughing up blood and we-"
you look up, meeting your boyfriend's pretty hazel eyes while he leans on the other side of the counter from you.
"do you need anything, dr. abbot?" she pipes up from next to you, and this time you do roll your eyes. fuck—you're really bad at this. jack sees it happen, shaking his head at her and turning his attention to you.
a few hours ago, this would have made you perfectly happy. but it keeps replaying in your head—the arm grab. maybe it's because you have your own complex about jack's arms, but it's not okay. and you won't pretend like it is either.
jack sets down your yellow mug by your hand. it's filled with a light colored coffee.
"here's your cream and sugar with a side of coffee." you stare up at him blankly, forcing a small smile.
"thank you," and then you turn your attention back to the screen. jack looks at you, confused with furrowed eyebrows. you can feel the nurse's eyes going between your yellow mug and jack. "i discharged hibachi guy with fifteen stitches. and the forearm burn wants to pick up the gel from his local pharmacy, i guess he knows the tech there or something-"
"you okay, kid?"
you release a breath you've been holding all night. when you turn to your side, you see the nurse is still staring, but not at you, just at jack. you turn your attention back to him.
"yeah."
you watch it happen in front of you. he turns to the nurse, and she beams, just like how you always do.
"would you mind giving us a minute?" he asks her, and you can see her deflate a little. you get a smug feeling, which you immediately curse yourself for. that's mean of you, and you don't like being mean—though you are very pleased he said that. she nods and gets up slowly, making sure to ask him again if he needs anything before she goes. and she walks somewhere away, though you're sure she can still see him.
"hey," he starts, and you do have to look up now. you can't ignore jack if you tried. "what's wrong?"
"nothing," you lie through your teeth, ignoring how weepy you feel inside.
you don't know how to handle being jealous, and you want to say something mean and biting but you can't really think of it. so you settle for the next best thing, staying silent.
"c'mon, kid. don't lie to me. i haven't seen you all night."
"i was on chairs," you say, eyes flicking between jack's arm resting against the counter and the cup of coffee he brought you. and then you look at the recently emptied seat next to you. "and you were clearly busy."
jack hasn't been dating you for that long, but he still knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. knows that you're too nice, knows about the new nurse that replaced your pregnant friend—distinctly remembers you telling him about it on the phone last week. he knows that he's never seen you like this, that you haven't given him that smile that makes his knees weak and his heart thud all night. that he was waiting for it after a few days without you.
you chew your cheek again, taking a sip of the coffee. it's perfect, just like every other night.
(you had once confessed to jack at three am during the first month you two were officially dating that your coffee always tastes better when he makes it. it's what he thinks about when he makes it for you—here, at your place, at his place, at the diner.)
"thank you for the coffee," you say quietly, briefly flickering your sad eyes to him. jack leans in, holding your hand that just set down your mug.
"hey," he starts quietly, and you try to wrestle your hand away, though he doesn't budge. "hey. what's going on? did i-did i do something?"
you stay silent, though he notices your eyes getting watery. it's so stupid, crying over this like you've just lost a patient or something. but you can't help it. jack abbot makes you feel every emotion like it's your first time feeling it all over again. your eyes look at the chair next to you again.
"i saw her touching you," you admit quietly. saying the words out loud lights a fury inside of you, getting angry all over again at the very idea that he didn't realize what was happening.
"oh, kid, i-"
"d-don't. you asked, i'm just telling you." it's hard for him to listen when he notices your chin trembling a little, thinking about how this might be the first time he's messed up in your short relationship.
he comes over to the other side of the desk, taking the seat next to you and holding onto your hand again.
"please tell me this is not about that-that nurse," jack starts, and you want to walk away from him so badly. "sweetheart. i have absolutely no interest in her, even if she does. i told her to find you for me, so i could get your coffee-"
"but she touched your arm," you say, not realizing just how sad that had made you. but jack realizes, knows that you must have seen it from somewhere where he couldn't see you. knows you didn't see him brushing her off, standing by the patient, figuring out how to get rid of his new shadow.
"hey, i'm sorry, okay? i would have made sure she understood that i'm very happily taken if i had known-"
"but you should have known," you say, though the words are covered with a tiny sob. "i-i'm not crying because i'm sad, i'm angry, i just don't know how to stop crying when i-"
"hey, it's okay. c'mon, let's go on a walk."
"no, i need to finish my notes-"
"sweetheart, come on." jack takes both your hands in his, turning you towards him. he stares right into your eyes and you feel slightly better—slightly. "i need to apologize to you and then i'm going to kiss you. and i know how you feel about me doing that sort of thing in front of everyone, so-"
"i don't know what you're talking about," you snip back. "i don't have any feelings about doing any sort of thing in front of any sort of people-"
and jack wants to laugh, not sure if you entirely understand how cute you are like this. he'll tell you all about it tomorrow morning, when he's got you in his bed, after he apologizes every single way he knows how, after he proves to you how little temp nurses mean to him when he's finally got you.
he leans in close, knowing he's got eyes on the two of you.
"is that so?" you have a habit of shutting your eyes when you know a kiss is coming, and your body does it automatically, despite what your brain is thinking. "so you're not gonna mind if i-"
and he bridges the gap, kissing you at central until he has to pull away to let you breathe. your eyes blink open, staring at hazel until you hear it from behind you—the charge nurse, clearing her throat, suppressing a laugh.
"doctors? if you're about done, we have an incoming mvc-"
"coming, bridget. thanks." jack speaks for both of you, and a little dazed, you stand up with him, still staring.
"i'm still upset."
"i know."
"she still touched you-"
"and i think she's gotten the message by now, but if she hasn't, i will make sure she understands."
"i haven't worked with you since last week." the last part you say sadly, realizing how long it's been since you've seen your boyfriend.
"i'll make up for it in the morning. promise." you take one last sip of coffee, knowing it'll be cold by the time you come back to it, following jack to the trauma bay. you walk right by the temp nurse, who you catch watching as you tie jack's gown and he ties yours, and though you really shouldn't, you beam your friendliest smile at her as she waits with you and the other nurse outside.
"you look great, by the way. and he is cute, isn't he?"
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daylighted · 5 months ago
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dean winchester x angel!reader — it's okay, it's okay.
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or, dean breaks everything he touches, including himself. or, the first time dove has to use her grace.
cw, angst, injured!dean, he walks you through it kind of, dean whimpers but at what cost
word count: 2k
notes, this doesn't count toward my vote. if dean x angel wins u WILL get another i am loyal to my word!! i just got this idea n needed to get it out before i forget < 3 sorry ahead of time if it is 1) sad or 2) sucks it's late ok </3
★ ˚⋆
everyone always says the same thing when the worst comes true, but it reigns true every time - this was never meant to happen.
sure, dean could have been more careful. sure, he could have spent more time worrying about his mortal, breakable body, and not the ageless angel who'd attached to his hip. he'd gotten... used to it, more than anything, because accepting it wasn't the right word.
no, he did not want you at his side at every turn. that gave him another body to fuss over, to make sure didn't get hurt, no matter the cost. even if it was irrational. but dammit, it was you.
you were resilient. he was certain you could take care of yourself, but he panicked when he saw the claw emerging from the pitch black, heading right for your direction. dean knew, logically, that you sensed it coming, that you could have protected yourself-
he took the swipe of gashes to the shoulder anyways. a long swipe. shoulder to sternum - couldn't feel it through the daze of adrenaline, but he could feel the blood. so much blood, and so close to his heart-
"dean!"
your voice pulses in his ears like its own heartbeat. is he losing consciousness? fuck.
your footsteps pound on the dusty dirt trail in the forest, running up to where he was slumped against the nearest tree. dean coughed, blood staining his bottom lip, metal and copper clashing violently on his tongue.
"hi, dove," he whispers, trying to breath life back into his voice, falling just short. "little worse for wear, aren't i?"
"now is not the time for jokes." you kneel next to him, your eyes flitting quickly over his body until they land on the wet crimson slashes across his chest. "you bleed."
his lips quirk, even as the adrenaline is wearing and he's starting to feel the stark pain of the extent of his injuries, because he can't help it. "i do bleed," he says, wincing as the huff of laughter falls out of his mouth rips at his already ripped skin. "s'what happens when you get hurt."
"why did you get hurt?" you demand, fierce and defiant even when he's facing death. good god, he adored you. "i will live. i heal. you..."
dean knew. he knew this. how did he explain this to you, when you didn't even understand what his feelings meant?
"i've heard i look pretty good covered in blood," he says instead. "that true?"
your nimble fingers clamp hard on dean's jaw, forcing him to turn and look at you. so much feist in one ageless body. "now. is not. the time."
"you're so pretty," he breathes, his eyes melting in and out of focus. "so damn pretty when you're mad at me."
your face contorts in a mix of confusion and outrage. this, he thought, is why he doesn't tell you the other things he's been dying for in his mind. as much as dean loves your furious pout, as much as he loves the way you take that damn lip between your teeth again as you think how to stop his dying, it's better to keep you at a distance.
"the bag," dean nods to the duffel he'd dropped in his haste, a couple of feet from you, "get the bag for me, sweet girl."
he can sense the why? on your lips, and smiles, just slightly, when it doesn't come. too detrimental of circumstances for you to question is every ask and call, it seems. how bittersweet it is to be a priority only when he's dying.
you clamber back over with the bag, all but dropping it on his knee in your hurry. dean didn't even tell you what to look for before you'd unzipped it and started digging. "there's bandage wrap in there, somewhere," he rasps out, nodding his head toward you, even though you're not looking at him, "need it. to stop the bleeding."
your hands are shaking. he has nothing else to look at but you - wouldn't look anywhere else regardless - but it's the first thing his eyes lock on. "hey," he says, a little more firmly, even as it makes him wince, "s'okay. it's okay."
"you are dying, and i am useless." you snatch up a small square of shiny wrapping, and he has an explanation for why, exactly, he carries condoms everywhere, but you don't even question it. he forgot that you were too focused on him to be your usual, curious self. "this? will it protect you?"
dean pauses. now is not the time, your words echo in his head, and still, he can't help it. "protects a part of me."
you scoff, and he's upset, for a second, that the joke goes over your head. another thing he should have taught you about. upset again when you the condom also goes over your head and into the dirt with your dismissive toss.
should have. how dramatic was that? already thinking in past tense, because the pain has ebbed again, and that's never good. he was relatively calm before when he could feel it, knowing that, at the very least, it meant he could feel, but-
your hands pluck out the little roll of bandage, shaking fingers tugging at the loose end and starting to unravel it. "yeah, you've got it. not useless, dove," he mumbles, shaking his head like he vehemently denies that bogus claim. "never useless."
"what do i do with it?"
dean lifts his shirt up and over again, wincing again with a deep rumbling whimper as he feels the tear again of his skin, his muscles. a wave of nausea renders him dizzy and speechless. his arms stay raised, his vision swimming.
your irritation is so evident on your face that he's certain, right then, he's never seen you so frustrated. dean wanted to ask why, especially after all of the times you've asked him that. he didn't understand your irritation with yourself. all he needed from you was to cover up the wounds so that you could heal him without risk of him bleeding out.
"you want picked up?" you ask, tilting your head in front of dean's to force his eyes to focus on you again. "now is not the time, again."
"no-" he says, lips twitching in the corners. at the very least, you were keeping him present and conscious, what with all of your adorable attitude. he licks his dry, cracked lips and tries to ignore the copper taste on his tongue. "take that end and wrap it around. like..."
dean doesn't know if you know what a vest is, or a sash, because you don't seem to know half as much as castiel does. maybe what cas meant when he brought you into the winchesters' lives was that your naivety ran so deep because you were a new angel, a fawn trying to catch its footing and stumbling along the way.
he watches as it clicks in your mind, what he means. you are so much smarter than he gives you credit for. he leans forward, mouth falling open in a shuddery, whimpering gasp. luckily, you don't stop what you're doing and ask if he's okay. your care, it seems, either doesn't extend that far, or extends farther due to the gravity of the situation.
you straddle him as you wrap the gauze around and around, and it's damn distracting, having you this close to him again. "do it until you don't see any more of the claw marks, yeah?"
your head moves in a nod but your eyes never once leave him, focused on the task at hand. winding and winding, the gauze tightening and tightening, until his chest feels stiff with it.
"s'good," he says, raising his hand to rest his fingers on your wrist. "great job, sweet girl. here-"
his fingers walk their way down your hand until he takes the roll of gauze between them, moving the strip to his teeth and tearing until it ripped free from the roll. "there we go."
again, you stare at him expectantly, only this time, he's staring right back at you with the same anticipation in his eyes. "go on, dove. do your divine thing."
a blink. a second blink. "i don't know how."
his heart, he thinks, falls down to his ass. bypasses the gaping wound in his sternum and drops.
"that would have been great to know before i took the fucking-" he can't even be mad at you. he's dizzy, starting to shiver, and yet the idea of hurting you made him feel worse than all of those things combined.
"i did not ask you to!" no, you didn't, but what was a man who was used to jumping in front of the bullets to do? "i did not ask, and you were not supposed to be stupid."
dean forces a strained smile. "sweetheart, s'kind of my thing."
you bend down, still straddling, close enough that your nose brushes his. fuck. he was going to die without knowing what it was like to close that gap. "not the time-"
"for jokes, yeah, i- i get that," he grumbles, throat thick, spluttering on a cough. blood splatters in a hapless pattern on his shirt, on yours. "think i'm- allowed t'joke when i'm dyin'."
"you are not." your eyes stay locked onto his. there's so much passion in them that they glimmer and glitter even now, in the dead of night. "not, to either of those things. i will..."
dean hates your expression. the defeated, helpless panic in it a stark contrast to your resilient eyes. he wants to comfort you. wants to smooth the pinched skin between your brows with his thumb, but everything's starting to feel a little heavy. "cas-" his head thumps back against the wall. "uses his hands. touch."
your expression softens. there it is again, that determined gleam overtaking every other emotion on your face. there's my girl, he thinks, even though it's a thought he's never allowed himself to think before, about you. his inhibitions are lessened now, though, and who is he to hide a thing from you?
slowly, your hands lift to his cheeks, cupping his face between your palms. your skin is so warm, and his is so cold, and he can't look away from your eyes. dean's never believed in someone as much as he does you, right now.
your eyes close, and he's still looking. his head leans forward and knocks against yours, like he can't get close enough. he'd do anything to know what your lips tasted like. if they were as sweet as you were, or as furious as you tended to get.
"it's not-" you growl, and he opens his mouth to say something to counteract the rush of heat your gravelly voice shoots through his icy veins, when- "fuck it."
two beats of shock wrack through him, and he has no time, not a split second at all, to prepare for the way your mouth crashes into his. his eyes blink wide in shock before a wave of warmth starts in his chest and spreads like roots through his blood and deep in his veins. he sees the blue-white flash of your grace as it spreads around the both of you.
you pull back so suddenly that your lips pop, staring at him expectantly. no, not dean, his red soaked bandages on the outside of his torn shirt. you give him no time to process it before you're clawing at it, tearing it down the center. "jesus, dove-" his eyes drop down to follow your gaze.
the only remnants of his injury were the dried streaks of blood running down his chest, pale red and shiny in the areas still drying in the cold night air.
you laugh, soft and hesitant, and it's the prettiest noise dean has ever heard. "if i'd known i just had t'almost die t'get you to kiss me," he says slowly, "i'd have done it a lot sooner."
even if it was hardly a kiss - more of a collision. he'd just have to teach you how he liked it, later.
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tags,
@figthoughts, @jasvtsc, @titsout4nicholas, @deanswidow, @whyyouegg,
@bombarda-babe, @whisperingwillowxox, @underground-secret,
@bitchykittenconnoisseur, @jensenacklesantidote,
@keira-kaz2y5, @ostaramoon, @depressionbarbie2023, @ultravi0lence14, @loverslantern,
@bleuatlas, @minettacreekk, @sthefferrete
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c4tluver02 · 2 months ago
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missed rehearsal
Warnings: itty bitty angst but happy ending ! ballerina!reader
wc: 1.5k
Summary: Steve misses your rehearsal spending time with Nancy. What can he do to make it up to you?
a/n: I know nothing about ballet so sorry if anything is wrong !!
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This was the second time Steve has missed your rehearsal. You were selected to play one of the bigger roles in the production and you had asked Steve to meet you at the studio to watch you. Having someone to support you when all you've done is correct your every move for the past two weeks sounded amazing. But to go through a whole rehearsal without it immediately puts you in a bad mood. It’s unlike Steve to miss something that's this important to you, especially because the ballet was next week. Once the session is over you put sweatpants and a thin sweater over your leotard and take your shoes off. 
You're sweating, your teacher told the whole class how you messed up, and you can feel that the numbing cream you put on your feet before class has completely disappeared. Oh and your boyfriend missed your rehearsal. The thought of calling Steve to tell him about your day felt like the next step but you didn't want to call when you were just grumpy and mad. Instead you head home to shower hoping that would make you feel better. 
Once you're out of the shower you hear the phone ring. You have a feeling it’s Steve and somehow the anger from earlier hasn't worn off. Yet you decide to answer wondering if he has a good reason to have missed it.
“Hello?” 
“Hey baby! I just got back home. I was wondering if you wanted to come over?” Steve asks and you can tell that he's smiling as he says it. A part of your heart warms at this and yet your blood just can't help but boil. 
“Wait, you weren't home? Where have you been?” You ask, forgetting the rest of his question.
“Nanc needed my help with something, her and Jonathan have been fighting. She just needed a friend y’know?” He responds in a calm state. 
If you were in a cartoon, smoke would be blowing out of your ears. He blows you off to help his ex-girlfriend? It takes everything out of you to not just hang up on him right then and there. 
“I can't come over Steve. I am in so much pain from today's rehearsals.” You say, your tone coming out with no emotion. You are hoping the word itself gives him a moment to realize what has happened. 
“Oh… I’m sorry, lovely.” When you hear him say it you automatically picture a frown on his face. It's very Steve to take someone else's pain and feel it just as much himself. However, the grudge you're holding felt a little more strong than this.  “Can I come over if that's better? Maybe I can give you a massage or something?” 
A sigh comes out of you. He really has no clue. It felt wrong to be mad at someone who has no clue they've done something wrong. “Steve, you missed my rehearsal today. You promised you'd be there and you weren't.” You finally spill. This didn't feel like a conversation to be having over the phone but it felt so vibrant to you that you couldn't keep it in. 
“Oh fuck.” The information hits Steve in seconds. The sadness in your voice coming out with it immediately breaks his heart. “Baby I'm so sorry I completely forgot.”  The first time Steve missed it was because he forgot to ask for the shift off of work. But this time it was him forgetting to just go and spend time with Nancy. 
“I really just want to go to bed Steve. Today has been the worst day and I'm tired.” You say rubbing your eyes and looking at the clock. It’s only 7:30 but the idea of laying in bed with a book sounded a million times better than sitting here in an awful mood. 
“I really am sorry. I don't know how I forgot it. I even wrote it on my calendar so this wouldn't happen.” Steve's guilt is palpable. At the end of the day you know he didn't miss your rehearsal to be malicious but he still missed it. Something that's been on your mind everyday isn't even in his once. 
“I know Steve. I'll call you tomorrow, I just need to go lay down.” The feeling of today is starting to crumble in on you. The stress you have been putting on not only your mental health but your body for this performance is a lot. Your face feels hot and your vision is getting blurry. 
Steve hears your voice wobble as you say it, ending the sentence with a sniffle. He feels horrible that your day was so bad. He feels even worse when he's the one that made you cry. But if you don't want to talk to him right now, what can he do? 
“Okay sweet girl I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The way he says it sounds so soft as if your previous words hadn't been said with such venom and malice. 
You hang up the phone to go curl up in your bed. Allowing yourself to break down and truly let everything you've been feeling out. The guilt of making him feel bad starting to eat at you. The whole situation is bad and you just wish it hadn't happened in the first place. 
The next morning you are woken up by the doorbell and a loud knock on your door. Your eyes are sore from all the crying you did last night and the pain in your legs and feet is coming back to you. You slowly make your way downstairs, each step makes you wake up a bit more. Once you finally reach the door and open it you see Steve holding a bouquet of red roses. 
Steve looks up at you and it's like his heart only breaks and breaks. Your eyes are swollen and red. It confirms how bad you had cried last night. Despite that all you still look beautiful and Steve hopes you accept his apology. 
“Steve, what are you doing here?” You ask, rubbing your tired eyes.
“I came to apologize for yesterday. You have every right to be upset, I looked after Nancy instead of you and I'm so sorry baby.” Steve hopes he can come with you to rehearsal today, despite forgetting it yesterday he did really want to see you. You look amazing in your element, like you were born to be a ballerina.
“I know Stevie, I just really needed you yesterday. I didn't even know you and Nancy were friends.” Your arms are crossed and you have a pout on your face but you must forgive him a little bit, you called him Stevie. Or maybe you aren't fully awake yet. 
“We really aren't but I dunno she just called and told me about it and I felt bad. I think our group is all she has and out of everyone I'm the next best option besides Jonathan.” You can tell he's really trying and he understands why you're upset.
You take the flowers from his hands and open your door more to let him inside. “Thank you for the flowers.” You say smelling them. 
As you close the door Steve responds “Of course baby, anything for you. You want me to get a vase?” He asks knowing they are high up. 
“Yes please.” Your voice is meek. All this energy you built up by being upset slowly makes you feel silly for being so hard headed in the first place. 
Once Steve gets the vase he puts it on the countertop. The glass makes a noise once it hits the tile. You set your flowers down as well before asking Steve–
“Can I have a hug?” Your head is tilted and your arms are up. Steve shares a warm smile at you. You look precious right now and he is so happy you're feeling better. 
He wraps his arms around you and gives you a big hug. His cologne takes over your senses as you melt into him. Once you both let go Steve gives a small kiss on each of your swollen eyes, and finally one on your lips. 
You kiss him back with your hands cupping his face. “Let me put the flowers in the vase but then do you wanna lay in bed? I don't have to leave for rehearsal for another hour.” 
“Yes please!” Steve says giving your waist a squeeze. “Could I go to practice with you today?” 
“Stevie if you don’t want to go you really don't have to.” You say, the insecurity still within you.
“No, no, no.” It comes out like it's one word. “I really do wanna go, please?” 
A smile comes on your face, “Yeah you can come.” You give him a quick peck. “But we have a while so let's go cuddle.” You grab his hand and you both walk upstairs. 
Steve gets into your bed and pulls you with him. A giggle comes out at the motion. He gives your hand he's holding a kiss before letting you lay your head on his arm. 
A comfortable silence falls between you. “I really am sorry though.” Steve starts.
“It's okay Stevie I know.” You give him one more kiss before asking him how Nancy is doing. Steve can't believe he got so lucky with you.
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ddejavvu · 1 year ago
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I love your best friend with no boundaries James, and I was wondering if you could do one where James and reader are having their regularly scheduled mid-day naps, and Sirius and Remus walk into the dorm to find James just humping reader while they’re asleep? Maybe James and reader wake up to the GASP of horror from Sirius after his not so innocent eyes witness “straight up porn in their shared dorm where Peter of all people could witness”
I love all your works and was wondering if I could be marked as 😻anon? I’m the person who requested the bsf Steve imagine and I’m 100% gonna request something again because you’re perfect and I just wanna kiss you on the mouth🫶🏻🫶🏻
this post is 18+, minors dni.
Sirius considers himself James's best friend- no, brother, but he's not afraid to whack the man upside the head when he finds James grinding on you in his sleep.
"You-! Nasty-! Fucker-!" He bullies James awake, appreciating the much calmer, kinder way that Remus rouses you, tugging you away from James on the bed and murmuring that your nap is over. You blink your eyes open serenely, and James's shoot wide in pain as Sirius assaults him.
"What the fuck? Agh- Sirius! I know you're mad that I've got the better potions grade, but killing me won't help!"
"This isn't about potions, Potter," Sirius scoffs, "But I am thinking about tossing you in a hot cauldron. You were- eeugh, you were humping her, you animal!"
Your brows are furrowed and your blinks are bleary, but your brain catches up with the help of Remus's hands where they trace soothing circles on your back.
"Oh," You mumble groggily, as James groans with quickly reddening cheeks, "Uh- s'alright, Jamie."
Remus's hand stills on your back, but James and Sirius join in a fused indignant-confused "What?"
"S'just natural I guess," You shrug, "I dunno, I haven't- er, got one. But it was an accident, Jamie, you were asleep. It's alright."
James’s cheeks are still plenty rouged, but he nods sleepily at your forgiveness, relieved that he's not being hit by two people instead of only one.
"Yeah, thanks bird," He flops back down onto the mattress, letting out a sigh heavily infused with relief, "Wouldn't do it on purpose, y'know. Not while you're sleeping, that's- that's pervy."
"Some people like pervy," You hum, settling back into your own position in James's bed, though he's no longer curled around you. Sirius watches as you knock your hand against his own, "Sirius thinks I'm a perv."
"You're both pervs," Sirius grimaces, his lip curled in distaste as Remus stands from James's bedside, "Seriously, he eats off of your spoons, you've seen his dick, he's been grinding all over your ass - if you don't get a marriage license soon you're going to be very unpopular with the traditional crowd."
James turns towards you with a gasp, his eyes shining just the same as his grin does, "We could get married!"
"We should," You laugh, "And we could get a flat, and we could have your mother over for dinner every Tuesday."
"That would work." He nods, fully settled back into the pillows from Sirius's disturbance, "She loves you. And she's free Tuesday nights - her knitting circle ends at three."
"I know that," You scoff, barely biting back an overexaggerated eye roll, "James, I write your mother once a week. I know when her knitting circle is."
"You write my mum?" He rears back, momentarily confused, "She's never told me that!"
"Of course she hasn't," You snicker, "Because if you'd known, you would have stopped me from telling her how many times you get detention every week, and you'd want to share the sweets she sends me in exchange for the intel."
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valalice · 4 months ago
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hear me out… combat training with rival!caitlyn where she gets all mad n frowny when you shit talk her so she pins you down on the mat. i’ve been thinking about this for WEEKS.
this is what i'm talking about !
you should've known better really, shit talking caitlyn kiramman of all people. but she makes it hard to somewhat tolerate her to a certain degree when she parades around like she owns the fucking place, her lean figure pin straight (perfect posture of course, nothing less expected of a kiramman), head held high (cassandra made it a point to instill the objective into young caitlyn's mind that you never let people persevere you as weak), and a cocky smirk that for some reason stays glued to her face at all times. she had every reason to be cocky—full of her self when she's the best at everything, everyone is either intimidated by her or adores her, and no there is no in between. you feel neither towards her, having the same prideful air about you, and there's no way in hell you'd ever adore her, you hate her, but again, hate does no lie between intimidated and adoration, it's the rotten third, born from pure animosity you have for her. it's something sacred really what you and her have, something so foolish, childish about your rivalry, but still serious in its own way.
you should've known your words would've been whispered right back into the ear of the heiress, too deep in the pits of blinded hatred to realize that kiramman has ears everywhere. and you know she knows when the next time the two of you cross paths her stare is more daggered than usual, and if your words hadn't sent the blue haired beauty into a frenzy, the laugh in her face upon seeing her had lit the spark, setting her ablaze.
you should've know caitlyn would come marching up to you like the prissy person she is and demand a combat match immediately, rolling your eyes at her temper and the shrill in her accent, she annoys you immensely by thinking she can get anything at her beck and call.
"can't you see i'm eating, kiramman?"
"i do. and i don't care. you talk shit, you're going to back it up."
"you're really looking to get another ass beating already?"
your words stung like a fist full of salt in a wound. the last match you two had, you won by a sliver, a tiny one, but you took the victory nonetheless. and it sends a tingly sensation down your spine, to the tips of your fingers, and then your toes to see the ever so barely noticeable twitch in her eye. but, of course you notice, you love seeing how you're able to get under her skin.
you should've known better than to accept that damn match, because now caitlyn has you pinned on the mat, struggling to think quick and reach for her weak spots to get you out of this position. you hate it, you hate her. but more importantly you hate how quickly she was able to pin you down, the swiftness and pure skill and talent (you'd never mutter these words out loud, even with a gun to your head) it took for her to pull off that move. it's all that damn excessive training with ambessa, you'd wander pass this very room time and time again heading the hits and grunts, caitlyn always overworked herself to the bone until she was able to get something right, and do it better. and you hate that when you opened your eyes from being slammed against the barely soft surface you were met up and close with gleaming cerulean eyes and that fucking smirk; it was in the moment you realized how close the two of you were, you always get this close but you're always too caught up with your motive of defeating her that you never took into account the compromising positions you'd put each other in.
"am i supposed to be getting my ass beat right now?"
should've spit in her face, but instead you're too stunned, focused on the knee slotted between your legs, pressing up against your pulsing heat. too focused on the wispy blue hairs fallen from her bun and how the usual sweat trickling down her eyebrow isn't there; she didn't even break a sweat. it takes a lot of restraint in you to not squirm beneath her, you won't give the satisfaction of seeing that (no matter how badly you want to sooth ache she's caused), you'll figure away out of this, eyes darting around to find anything's she any opening to free yourself or flip over, but you're too slow;
one.
two.
three.
the grip on you lessens when she's done counting, un-slotting her knee, and standing to her feet, gaze raking over your unmoved body, eyes swirling with gloat.
"i won."
and with that she walks out the room, no outstretched of a hand to help you off the matt, leaving you to lie there. she plays dirty.
you hate caitlyn kiramman.
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rvp32 · 7 months ago
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Heir to the clan's legacy- Chapter 3
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White cum spills out of Yoona's stuffed pussy and your cock is covered in her juices and your seed.
You turn around and smirk.
"Mommy…why don't you clean my cock?"
"Y/N Do you know what the fuck you have just done!" Taeyeon screams as she walks toward you.
The loud scream makes you lose your concentration a little allowing Yoona to escape from your binding
"What have I done, mommy? I fucked Auntie Yoona because she's sexy. I'm an adult. Why are you so mad?"
"I told you specifically not to do any such thing before you left and not only did you go ahead and fuck your aunty and cum inside of her you also had the audacity to call me here," Taeyeon screams
You then turn to Yoona.
"She enjoyed it. Didn't you, mommy" You say smirking, calling Yoona mommy.
Yoona was still recovering from the orgasm and she was also scared but she shyly said, " It was some of the best sex that I have had in a very long time,"
You smirk smiling, but then Taeyeon flash-stepped and you barely reacted since you weren't on guard. You manage to bat her arm away.
"I'm not a kid anymore, mommy…if I want to fuck YoonA. I will."
"Enough, put on your clothes you are coming home with me right now and we will talk about your behavior," Taeyeon says
she then looks to Yoona, " We are going to have a really long conversation about this Yoona,"
But you shake your head.
"No. I'm not going with you. I didn't do anything wrong." You flash step and put your clothes back on but then you also grab your sword and assume a challenging position.
"Y/n don't do this, all I am suggesting is that we talk. I am not trying to hurt you or even fight you. So calm down, " Taeyeon says trying to calm you down
"Talk about what? You can't baby me anymore. I want to be with Yoona…I will be with Yoona. I'll be with whoever I want. You know I asked Kazuha to be my girlfriend today?"
Yoona was also shocked by this information because she didn't expect you to have already a girlfriend whom you just started dating today. She felt bad because she was your side piece and the second option.
"I am not babying you anymore! I won't do it. We left off at a very bad place in the morning so I just want to clear it up. For fucks sake just listen to me just this one fucking time," Taeyeon said her showing more and more frustration as the conversation goes on
You turn to Yoona.
"Just so you know, you aren't a side piece or a second option…I need to restart my clan…I want you, need you as a partner, Yoona…I love you just as I love Kazuha."
Yoona's expression turned softer after hearing that, she also realized the huge responsibility you had.
You then turn to Taeyeon.
"Don't you understand that? I love you…I want you…who better to restart my clan than you, Mommy?"
"I am open to that and I would be really happy to help you with it as well but Y/n you need to learn to take consent before you jump onto people like that, I was confused and didn't know what you really wanted," Taeyeon explained
You then flash step to her and kiss her deeply again.
"I want you…I want both of you…" Your spiritual pressure rising again.
"Calm down, you don't need to release so much spiritual pressure, I am right here," Taeyeon says as she brushes a little bit of your hair
"I need both of you…" I say with lust, as I derobe once again. "Both of my mommies…sucking my cock…I'm still so full mommy, you said you'd always take care of me.." You pout like a child, playing on Taeyeon's motherly affection for you.
"I will baby boy, I will always take care of my pretty little boy," Taeyeon says before grabbing your cock and slowly rubbing it
"Oh.." I moan, finally. My mommy..my hot mommy.
"Yoona mommy…Taeyeon mommy…please both suck my cock…worship it…"
Yoona crawls to you, with your cum still dripping out of her freshly used pussy. she massages your balls as Taeyeon plays with your cock
"Oh fuck yeah…yes…use your lips my mommies…fuck.."
"aww is that so if you want mommy to use her lips you are going to have to beg pretty boy," Taeyeon whispers in your ear and bites it
You counter and kiss at her neck. You were kissing your mommy…your beautiful Taeyeon and you nibble at her ear too.
"Please Mommy…suck my cock…I've wanted to feel it for so long…your beautiful lips and tongue.."
"Now, that's a good boy, " Taeyeon coos before getting on her knees and taking the tip of her cock into your mouth.
Yoona takes this opportunity to stand up and kiss you passionately
"Mommy it feels so good…you were meant to do this right? My cock…to take care of me…this is the only cock you ever need…"
Taeyeon speeds up, taking in more of your cock every time she went down, trying her best to fit your entire cock into her tiny cute mouth
"Holy fuck mommy…oh my god…that feels so good…yes all of it.."
You kiss Yoona too, but you begin to thrust into Taeyeon's mouth.
Yoona pulls away from the kiss, "Go on fuck that throat like you mean it, show her who she belongs to," Yoona moans into your ear and goes on to kiss your neck and leave marks all over it
This turned you on a lot. As you begin to ram your cock into Taeyeon's thrust over and over.
"My mommy whore…my mommy bitch…my slutty mommy…" You chant as you finally get what you want. Taeyeon began choking on your cock a little but she still continued to take it into her throat as much as she could.
"Go on paint your mommy's throat white with all the precious cum, " Yoona moans as she uses your fingers to stimulate her clit
You bite at Yoona's breasts and suck on her tit..trying to draw out milk. You don't stop fucking Taeyeon's mouth as you shove as much as you could in there, watching it bulge.
"Holy fuck baby that's so hot, are you trying to get milk out of me baby," Yoona moans as she pets your hair like a child who is getting breastfed
"Fuck if only there was milk coming out right now!" You moaned in between sucking Yoona's tits
You had to figure out some spell for that or something…
"Oh, mommy…I'm going to cum…down your fucking throat…"
"GO on baby cum all down your mommy's throat," Yoona cooed you dumped all your cum down Taeyeon's throat
You pant and huff, pulling out and smiling.
"How does it taste Mommy? Your first taste of my cum? Your baby boy's cum?"
"It tastes amazing baby just as I expected it to but holy fuck don't you cum a lot. this is your second load and it is so much I wonder how thick the first load must have been," Taeyeon states,
"Oh the first load was massive and thick alright, his cum is still leaking out of my pussy and I am 100% sure that I am already pregnant with his baby," Yoona says
You pull Yoona in for another torrid kiss with your tongue.
"Your feet next…both of you…I need to taste them and fuck them…" You say with desire.
"aren't you an insatiable horny bastard, if that's what you want then your mommy's shall oblige," Taeyeon says
You growl.
"Oh? Calling your baby boy a bastard? How naughty of you, mommy!" You grab both of them and toss them on the bed. You lie down and have Taeyeon and Yoona sit near you by your cock. Taeyeon folds out her legs towards your face and you begin to lick at her toes and the underside of her feet.
Yoona meanwhile gives you a footjob.
"my baby boy is so naughty and always horny for his mommies isn't he?" Taeyeon questions as she enjoys you worshipping her feet
"I love your white nail polish Mommy…and Yoona's black…so sexy…your feet are so fucking good.."
Taeyeon's feet were so soft and you try to suck on all five toes from her foot at once.
"Aren't you a greedy boy wanting so much all at once, If I had known that you were a feet-loving boy then I would have gotten a pedicure before coming here," Taeyeon says before moaning
You suck on her toes harder.
"No, your toes are so good…so hot…I love them…please give me a double footjob mommies!"
"you are so impatient," Taeyeon says before using one of her feet to push your cock into Yoona's other foot. Both of you matching the rhythm together to jerk off your big hard throbbing cock
"HOLY FUCK MOMMIES.." You howl loudly as they worked together perfectly to stroke your cock off with their feet. The contrast of pedicure colors was amazing
"oh you are really enjoying this so much aren't you, my little perverted loser," Taeyeon teases you as she continues to play with your hard cock
"He loves it so much Unnie, he blew such a huge load when I gave him a footjob before," Yoona says
You pout. "Mommy…that wasn't nice…I'm just so attracted to you…"
"You don't have to lie baby I can feel your cock throb whenever I say things like that," Taeyeon says
"It turns me on when you want me, mommy…you're all mine right?"
"Yes baby I am all yours, both of us belong to you
I then flare up my pressure and jam my cock back into Taeyeon's tight cunt, growling as I use flash step and slam her into the wall and begin drilling into her gasp "Fuck!" Taeyeon moans out as you drill into her the sudden invasion of your cock stretching out her pussy a lot more than expected
"What was that mommy?" I growl as I hammer into her and then kiss her neck, biting at it a bit.
"It feels so fucking good baby, keep pounding Mommy like that use my hole however you want!" Taeyeon growls
"Remember you're my mommy…and my caretaker…I am your Master and baby boy…and you…I fucking own you…to fuck…and use as a whore!"
"Yes, you own me, fucking use me as your whore! make you your cum dump!" Taeyeon moans out pleasure completely taking over her brain
I kiss her with my tongue and speed up. The tightness of her cunt was immaculate..my whore mommy getting fucked by my cock was something else.
"Mommy…I want to drink your fucking milk…"
"Go on baby you can have how much ever you want!" Taeyeon allows you
"Unnie, What is he talking about?" Yoona asks confused about what milk you are asking Taeyeon for
I then lower my mouth to her right breast and swirl my tongue before latching on and sucking. I was finally drinking her milk…my mommy's milk…it was perfection.
"NGHH" Taeyeon moans, the pleasure getting too much for her. It felt like absolute heaven, she hadn't had something feel this good in such a long time
A little milk leaks out from the corner of your mouth and this surprises Yoona. So many questions popping into her head and you see her eyes lined with confusion. To distract her you push your fingers into Yoona's wet pussy and finger her as you continue to pound Taeyeon
"Mommy's milk…mommy's cunt…you're both mine…" you growl.
You were fucking Taeyeon so hard…your mommy…your whore…your bitch…was now truly yours.
Taeyeon's moans now sounded like screams absolutely tearing through thr roam and they were accompanied by Yoona who was also on the cusp of another orgasm
"I'm going to fucking cum mommy! Going to fucking cum so hard!" You roar.
"Go on baby cum inside your mommy, breed her just like you did me," Yoona encourages you and Taeyeon is just simply beyond the ability to speak right now
You were finally going to do it, you were going to breed your mommy Taeyeon…
"FUCK!" You slam your cock all the way inside her cunt and explode…cumming the hardest and longest you ever have…you weren't pulling out and waited minutes until you fully emptied, painting her walls white.
Taeyeon's mind was going absolutely haywire, completely taken over by pleasure. The cum was so warm and felt perfect inside of her. satisfying everything that she had ever wanted.
You then kiss Taeyeon with more tongue.
"Mommy…Yoona…on your knees both of you…fucking clean my cock…it's official now…you're both my whores to breed and restart my clan."
Without any replies, the both of them were on their knees, cleaning up your cock.
You hiss in pleasure as both their tongues and sweet lips worked your tip and they cleaned every bit of cum left. They shared it between them and you pressed their heads together to make out with your cock.
"I've been developing a kido spell…" You say before using the enchantment and a marking of the Uzumaki clan forms just above their cunt before disappearing.
"what is it supposed to do baby?" Yoona asks innocently.
Taeyeon is also curious and is just waiting to see what you answer
"This will make it so nobody else is allowed to fuck you…your body will only respond in pleasure to my touch alone."
"Oh someone is possessive!" Taeyeon and Yoona say at the same time
"Of course…my clan…my whores…I need to keep it all in line…now then…YoonA..I think you should move to the clan compound. We can use this place as a safe house."
"Oh am I finally being allowed to move into the Uzumaki's compound" Yoona questioned
"Yes you are, You belong to me now so you should stay where I can reach you any time I want," You reply
YoonA stands and kisses you lovingly.
"Good…it's settled then… let's head back. I have my first official day tomorrow so let's try and take it easy for the rest of the day."
"Yayyy!" Yoona cheers as she puts on her robe and begins to grab things that she will need.
The three of you get back and head back into bed. You were so happy having them on either side of you…you snuggle with Taeyeon and kiss her.
"I love you, mommy. You're mine."
"What about me?" Yoona whines as she hugs you
You kiss her too.
"And you too.." All three of you drift to sleep shortly after.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago
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Wicked Games 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
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Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Steve Rogers
Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
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Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 
Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 
You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 
You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  
"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 
You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 
"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 
"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 
You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 
"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 
You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 
"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 
"When I get home." You hang up.  
It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 
Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 
Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 
You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 
Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  
Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 
You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  
You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 
You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  
You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 
Not important! 
You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 
Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 
No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 
You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 
It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  
You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 
You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 
You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 
No, you didn't! 
It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 
That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 
Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 
Nothing. Happened. 
Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 
You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 
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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago
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firecracker
carlos sainz jr.
request: no. 52 “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” + cs55 🥰 no. 52 "you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”
tags: smut/pwp, cowgirl position, established relationship, hair pulling, dom!reader, sub!carlos
eros (the valentine's day collection)
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carlos knew he wasn't stupid. he prided himself in being intelligent both on and off the track. but maybe this wasn't his brightest moment.
you stood there in the living room with two items in your hands. carlos' red ferrari t-shirt and your noticeably pink blouse. it took a moment before his expression dropped in realization.
"i'm so sorr-"
you dropped your hands and held onto the garment tighter, "this is the second time this has happened. i told you not to mix my whites with your ferrari reds." you huffed.
carlos got up from the couch and walked over you. his pace was slow, despite his pure intentions to make you feel better as he approached you. he had to admit, you looked good when you were angry.
he got close into your space and looked at you with a soft glance, "my love, i'm so sorry."
"please use your head, carlos. i need these for work, i can't show up looking like an after dressed cotton candy." you frowned, "and i don't hear about how you'll just buy me a new shirt. money can't solve all of your problems.it's not fair tome." you knew you were rambling, but you didn't care. you wanted to get your point across!
carlos took the clothing from you and leaned in to kiss you on the lips so delicately. you wanted to get made some more, but when carlos threw an arm around your middle, you only sank into the kiss.
you held onto the front of his t-shirt and moaned gently against him. he smiled into it and you knew you've give him a piece of your mind later. but for now, you'd just accept his kisses.
"there." he said, "i promise i will be more mindful. i'm sorry, i love you." he said gently as he cupped your face, "i won't let it happen again."
you smiled a little at his tenderness, "next time you do this, i'll make sure all of your white t-shirts get stained too." your words were a warning and carlos simply smiled.
"i would not accept anything less, my love." then kissed your cheek, "i have to admit my love." he leaned in a little closer, "you're so fucking hot when you're mad."
you chuckled softly and said, "oh i bet i am." then pressed a hand against his firm chest, "i bet you love when i tear you a new one." then looked into his dark eyes.
carlos smiled broadly, "don't get me too excited." his eyes cast to your hand on his chest and he licked his lips. you were simply too beautiful.
"sainz."
"i can't help myself. I love when you put me in my place." he looked a little excited at the prospect of you getting angry with him. you playfully rolled your eyes and went in for another heated kiss.
"you are something else, honey." you said, "but don't ruin my laundry again, or i'll be making something else of yours pink." then patted his behind while made him more excited. you led him to the bedroom, with the clothes left behind. carlos' gaze lingered on your behind as you led him to your shared bedroom. before you went through the open door, you asked him, "going to be good for me, carlos?"
carlos felt his sweatpants tighten and he nodded dumbly, "yes, of course." and felt a spike in his pulse, "you really are the most beautiful woman alive."
he got his clothes off and you did your own. carlos reached for you and you batted his hands away. he looked at you with mild confusion before you placed your hand on his chest once more, only to push him down onto the bed.
you climbed on top of your nude lover, taking in the sight of tanned skin and strong muscles. you ran your hands down him with a certain affection. you mused over him for a moment before you let out a small laugh. he looked good under you, "how does this look? still like me when i'm angry?"
carlos ran his tongue across his top teeth before he chuckled, "i love it. you look beautiful on top, it is like your rightful place." he reached for you once more but you batted his hands away.
"look, don't touch." you said and pinned carlos' hands above his head. his wrists captured in your one hand. it was a slight stretch of your palm, but it was worth it, "this is punishment for ruining my shirt."
"of course, of course." he tensed up when you soon sank down on his cock. with a little maneuvering of your hips. he cursed under his breath and thought that if heaven were a place, it was between your soft legs.
"fuck carlos. i hate that your cock makes my brain feel like mush."you groaned, you started to move your hips. they were short lovely thrusts that made carlos feel pleasure race through him.
the hammering of his hear while you worked yourself against him, you felt perfect around him. he swallowed back the lust to say to you, "you look beautiful."
your free hand was in his dark hair, you gave it a yank and his eyes rolled back a little. you said lowly, "i know, and you look like a total slut, sainz. you get off to this. to me." there was heat in your tone as the pleasure pounded through both of you.
you moved quickly and kept him under you with a momentum that made him groan. you shakily exhaled as you kept up your pace, it was a lot and it made your heart pound. there was a small fire of lust in your gut as the two of you moved, or rather he tried to move. but it was hard with how he was pinned under you.
you pulled his hair once more and he moaned. he sounded cute when he moaned against you. next time you'd squeeze your thighs around his head, make him really squirm. carlos was good. a good man, and under you, a good boy. you'd forgive what he had tone, especially with those doe eyes heavy with lust.
"promise not to do that again?" you asked as you held onto him tightly, you moved against him. the force of your movements was heavy and you licked your lips. you could see the pleasure across his features.
carlos tensed up and you chuckled lightly. this was your boyfriend. the pain in your side, the love of your life.
there was a leap in your chest as you let go of his wrists and pinned both hands to his chest for better leverage. your hips moved to a rhythm of your own making. it felt beautiful, you could feel his heartbeat. it was like a symphony in your soul as your bodies moved together. you loved him, and he loved you.
you gasped loudly as the pleasure raced through your body. you squeezed your eyes shut as he feeling went down to your very soul. it was hot and left you flustered all over.
"i like when you're mad at me." he chuckled, "you get so fiery and it can't help myself. more beautiful than a bonfire."
you felt a tinge of warmth in your cheeks from his words. you wanted to refute them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so. you leaned in to him and then kissed him on the lips.
he tasted warm, like comfort and of home. you felt a curl of lovein your core, it was a beautiful feeling. all of him was perfect, even when he got under your skin.
you pressed further into him as you made love. the anger repalced with something else. you kissed him once more and felt the thrill og pleasure through you. the kisses grew hungry and needy.
carlos loved the feeling, how you drove him wild. you moved against him like you knew exactly how to make him yearn with sexual want. you were the woman of his dream. you shared another tender kiss and he groaned with his lips against yours.
"fuck, carlos." you said with a heated moan. you sounded beautiful as carlos was tempted to grab you by the hips and fuck you with an intense pleasure. an attempt to take control, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. he watched you fall apart on his cock, you held him by the shoulders tightly as you rode yourself through your pleasure.
it was heated and arousing in a way that made carlos close behind you with pleasure grasping you tightly. you basked in his warmth, the flutter of post orgasmic bliss left you feeling beyond amazing. and soon carlos joined you in the bliss as he finished as well.
"fuck." you exhaled as you slowed your movements to a stop. you enjoyed the feeling of him under you, it felt comfortable as you spread your hands across his chest.
he then wrapped a strong arm around you to pull you next to him in bed then kissed the top of your head with affection. he asked, "am i forgiven?"
you looked at him and chuckled lightly, "for now. you may find me hot when i'm angry. but you look hot when you're all fucked out." then curled up close to him. you shared one more tender kiss.
carlos would be forgiven this time, but he knew not to try anything like that again <3
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phyrestartr · 9 months ago
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If We Had Lived (Divine Favour) | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader
W/C: 3k #SFW, fluff, mentions of past abuse, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, morally grey reader, DRABBLE
tags: @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx
--
“Sit still.”
“I'm sitting fucking still, fox.”
Sukuna did not sit still. He shifted and huffed, not unlike an annoyed, restless bull locked up in a pen–only, he was far from being in a pen and could leave whenever he so wished. 
Yet, he stayed. He endured the torture you, his prized possession, put him through for the sake of making good impressions or whatever. But the harvest festival was hardly a big deal–the last time the king was bestowed a gift of any value was when he found himself the owner of a beautifully annoying fox that hid in his garden for a fucking eternity. A prize like that was unlikely to be given again. What else could possibly excite the man who had everything?
Your tails swished behind you dramatically as you shifted on your knees, tilting your head to look over the work you'd done with cleaning and manicuring his nails and hands. Thankfully, you left callouses in place. Not that he thought you'd be so cruel as to remove them, but you certainly had the ability to, considering how soft your own hands were. 
“How much more?” Sukuna grumbled.
Your eyes flicked up to his for a moment before returning to your task. “I've hardly finished one hand.” 
The king scowled as a child might as you continued gently pushing at his cuticles with the slim, soft stick of an orange tree, carved specially for this occasion. Sure, he was the one who demanded you to turn your self-preening onto him, but still--
Your soft, warm touch cupped under his jaw and lifted his pouty gaze to meet yours. “You asked this of me,” you reminded. “If you've changed your mind, I've other tasks to attend to.” 
Sukuna’s lip twitched in an ugly, childish snarl. “You'll stay here and finish your job.” 
“Very well.” You leaned up toward him and kissed the spot between his brows before sitting again. But Sukuna followed you, bowing his head to chase a proper kiss that you gave freely, the kind spirit you were. “Then you will have to sit still.” 
“Tch.” But he obliged to the best of his abilities. “Already gonna have to sit still for hours while those damn peasants show up and dump scraps at my feet,” he sighed, pulling up a knee and resting an elbow on it. 
“My, a kingly thing is complaining about fealty?” You wondered, sarcastic yet cripplingly honest. “While I understand your unwillingness to do anything but fight and kill, you must remind those beneath you of your status.” 
Sukuna scoffed. “Yeah? Then why isn't my kyuubi doing just that?” 
“I am no king,” you said. “I am simply the servant of one, no? Given to him as a mere offering, yet kept alive for his amusement.” 
“Huh. Guess you know your place.” Sukuna shifted, and he noticed you pick up the pace, tending to him a bit quicker lest the restless beast lose his patience and leave with the job incomplete. He wouldn’t leave, not when he hungered for your attention and touch more than anything else the pathetic world could offer him–only something from the divine plane could satiate him. 
“Mh.” You raised his hand and pressed his knuckles to your lips, then against the soft plushness of your cheek. “My place is by my king’s side. It will forever remain that way.” 
You left his side. You left him, your pious saviour, your sworn king, your chosen mate, in favour of–what? Freedom? Adventure? Men? Women? What was it? 
Thunder echoed in Sukuna’s chest as he paced. He’d swept through towns, destroyed any houses you might have been sequestered in, searched vacant shrines and the like, but never caught a glimpse of your ebony tails nor your decorated kimono. It drove him mad. How had he not noticed? Did the harvest festivities really engulf his mind? Sure, they were more eventful this year, what with clansmen attempting revenge in the name of their fallen brethren, but it’d only been a week of problems–nothing challenging, nothing that really, truly required his full attention. And still–
“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume called, interrupting his buzzing thoughts. 
“What?” The king snapped, turning on his heel to face Uraume standing at his chamber door. “If this is about anything other than my fucking fox, then–”
“Please, come,” they said. “I believe I’ve found an explanation.” 
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. Uraume sounded calm, not that they ever sounded particularly frantic, but they seemed…happy, maybe? Some weird kind of content, perhaps. It wasn’t something Sukuna was used to seeing on their placid face, though it’d become more common ever since you entered their lives and made yourself at home. The frost sorcerer had a soft spot for you. Sukuna couldn’t blame them. 
“Pray tell what the fuck the explanation is,” Sukuna grumbled as he followed his subordinate, arms all crossed and tensed. 
“I’m certain I’ve found the whereabouts of your beloved.” Uraume slid open the door leading to the gardens in the back and walked on. “In the absence of (Name), I decided to tend to the gardens myself. In doing so, I found something quite peculiar–a hidden grove of sorts.” 
Sukuna’s fury morphed into prickling, fiery intrigue. “Bullshit. I’ve been all over this fucking garden with that fox. I know the ins and outs.”
“Then it would not surprise me if he indeed kept this a secret from you.” 
Sukuna grumbled. “He knows better.”
“I don’t believe it’d be intentional,” Uraume said, “but I believe his instincts may have influenced him to secure a quiet, safe place for the future.”
The king relaxed. Electricity sparked weakly in his fingertips first,then throughout the rest of his body when everything started falling into place–you wanted all eyes to be on him, you didn’t want anyone to look at you during the festival. Your cheeks had grown fuller, your body more plush, your desire to snuggle and snooze went through the roof. Could you have been–?
Uraume stepped toward a thicket of trees in the far corner of the garden–one that Sukuna indeed had never bothered with, considering it looked full of trees and foliage and definitely not a spot to meander on your shared morning walks–before ducking under thick branches and pushing aside flimsy bushes. 
Sukuna followed with a little more brute force, nearly ripping the pesky foliage out of the way and half-considering decimating the trees that dare whip him in the face with a cluster of leaves. But you’d probably get pissy if he did that. A pissy fox was fun, but also withheld sex, and that was a no-go for Sukuna these days, considering his concubines just weren’t doing it for him as of late. 
Sure enough, Uraume’s words rang true. The grove was small and cozy, letting in warm dappling sunlight while shielding itself from the prying eyes of the outside world. In the very corner of the garden and the evident centrepiece of the grove, stood an immense weeping willow, one with a formidable trunk and thick, gnarled branches reaching up to drape long curtains of green like cascading waterfalls around itself. Truly, it felt like a separate little world would be hidden in there, behind swaying vines and rustling leaves. 
“You gotta be shitting me,” Sukuna muttered, stepping past his right hand to push aside the foliage, revealing a black fox curled up in the hollowed trunk of that very tree. 
You didn’t stir when he approached. Something uneasy curled in Sukuna’s gut, but once he sat himself in front of the mouth to your little den, he spied the steady breathing shifting your small form, and calmed–until he saw something else wiggling against you, chirping and squeaking with pathetic, fragile voices. At first, he thought it was some sort of parasite sucking you of your lifeforce, but he realized too quickly that what he beheld were two, tiny kits, both covered in fluffy brown-black fur, both keenly aware of the presence of a curious new man sitting before them. 
Sukuna tensed when they approached him. Their chubby bellies knocked their weak, stubby legs off balance, but they persevered best they could, bumbling their way through trampled leaves and grass, and finally reaching the crossed legs of the king. Tiny paws papped at his pant legs before they hazarded climbing the formidable mountain before them And despite Sukuna’s hesitation, he hastily held their butts before they fell off of him like the stupid, dumb babies they were. They were his stupid, dumb babies, after all. Best to take care of them. 
“It appears he went somewhere quiet to nest,” Uraume hummed, sounding far too pleased as they watched the king handle fox kits. “Perhaps the festival was too stressful.”
“Tch. Could’ve shot the runts out inside,” Sukuna mumbled, half-heartedly annoyed. “Coulda said somethin’.” 
“He could have,” Uraume agreed, an air of ‘but what’s done is done’ clinging to their words. 
Sukuna sighed. “What a pain in the ass.” His eyes flicked to you again. He expected you to wake up, to snap at him like the feral thing you were. He expected you to calm after recognizing him. Maybe he expected you to curl up in his lap, too. Or did he just want that?
But you stayed sleeping. Content and safe under the shelter of your lover and the stalwart embrace of a weeping willow. Perhaps it was thanking you for your kind care with the way it soothed your soul and kept you hidden away. Sukuna wouldn't doubt it for a second. The garden acted differently ever since you claimed it as your own. 
“Shall we take them back?” Uraume asked.
The king thought for a long moment, sifting through selfish desires and rational decisions before coming to his conclusion: “Leave ‘em. He'll probably throw a damn fit if we interfere. You know how gods are–annoying and irrational as hell when they don't get their way.”
His subordinate smiled. “Very well.”
Winter’s first frost came, and you returned to his side. 
You woke him with a classic move–standing on his chest and staring at him expectantly until he woke up and gave you attention. You didn’t do it as much anymore, not ever since you found yourself in the midst of a thousand responsibilities and daily quests, but every once in a while, like when your lover would return from long journeys, you’d pester him endlessly for pets, scritches and kisses. 
But this time, once his heavy eyes opened, he not only saw you standing atop his chest, but a chubby pup caught in your maw, too. 
Sukuna blinked away his grogginess just as you gingerly placed the babe on his collarbone, tucking him underneath the king's chin. One of his large hands flew up to ensure the kit (his kit) didn't slip off when you let go and trotted away with purpose. 
“Fox,” Sukuna grumbled, displeased with your hasty retreat. Thankfully, you trotted back up to him a handful of moments later and placed a second ball of fluff on his chest before settling down beside him and watching. 
“Tch. Took you long enough,” the king huffed as he tried his damndest to be careful and gentle with the little ones. “Was about to drag your sorry ass in here myself.” 
I see. If you were so desperate for my company, you could have simply requested it, you countered. 
Sukuna sucked his teeth and huffed. “Like it woulda been that easy.” Nothing was that easy with you–and Sukuna liked it. If you gave in, if you tended to his every fleeting want and need, you'd be too boring, frankly. 
It is unlike you to not try. You shifted and wormed your way into his arms and half onto his chest, right beside the two snoozing kits you'd worked hard to bring up while Sukuna was off fighting, killing and maiming. But that was expected; servants and bedded beasts were to stay and make a home, weren't they? 
“Tch. I let you have your way for once and this is how you act?” Your partner admired your foxen features and traced his fingertips along your snout, between your eyes, to the top of your little skull before scritching behind your ears. You leaned into the touch, eyes falling closed with the meagerest offering of affection.
Shall I praise you and bow at your feet once I am able? You teased. 
“Bending over'll do the trick.” Sukuna smirked when you huffed. “How long you gotta stay as a shitty mutt anyway?” 
Until they wean. I'm not certain as to how long that will take.
“Not even a guess?” 
Perhaps another week or so. You turned your nose to the two small fluffs and groomed the tops of their heads. They're becoming more independent. More willing to explore. I take that as a good sign for their development. 
“Huh. Good.” A strange coil relaxed in Sukuna's chest, and he braved petting them with a single finger again. “‘N how long ‘til these two learn to play human?” 
Not for some time, but I will help them until they master it themselves. You nipped at Sukuna's hand as a third rose to come pester you. You should not pray for them to be human too soon. They will terrorize you. I have seen such chaos before. 
Sukuna grinned. “Ho? You forget who their father is?” Your sigh echoed in his mind, and his smile split wider. “I can handle anything.”
Kazuya and Genji took too much after you and your mischievous heritage. 
Too often Uraume would find them in baskets of produce, happily munching away like they were supposed to be in there. Other times, they'd be caught stealing shiny jewelry or knick knacks from the king's concubines and servants. They'd sometimes even take Sukuna's clothes and run amok with them, using them as toys or completely shredding them. 
You, he who had birthed and raised them, were swift when it came to correcting them. You were, of course, the prime example of a kitsune, and therefore found their treasure stashes, foretold of their destructive crimes, and knew when they'd be off to steal food. You were like them, once, after all. 
And maybe that's why you had a peculiar pep to your step. Once the boys found their devious personalities, you bothered lifting your tails from the floor. No longer did you let them drag and droop like limp noodles hanging from chopsticks. You seemed…prouder. Livelier. Perhaps being amongst your own gave you a sense of belonging, of hope. 
Belonging, huh? Tch, what a load of shit. Sukuna mused as he rested his cheek against his fist, lounging while he watched you wrangle the twins from his spot under a shady tree. Spring was here, and that meant the runts were now terrorizing the great outdoors. 
More accurately, they were following you around like two tiny shadows, too eager to waddle after you as you moved along the paths, sowing seeds and pruning withered leaves as you went. The tots picked up whatever your tending cast to the ground, and they held each thistle, leaf and twig close in tiny, pudgy hands like they were rabbit's feet. Strange little things.
He lost sight of you and the bumbling babies eventually, but your light chatter flitted through the brush and kept him company for a time. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot accompanied your walk as you came back around, closer and closer and–through the garden itself? Wait–
“RAH!” A little voice cried before a littler body launched onto Sukuna. 
“Ha?” The king quirked a brow and looked at the little thing biting and kicking at his arm like a spastic cat. “What the hell is this?” 
“He's trying to play with you,” you said as you wandered back into view, voice airy and light. “They wrestle.” 
Sukuna held his arm up to get a better look at the runt nibbling on him. “This is supposed to be playing? Damn thing's acting feral.” 
“Because he's young.” You settled down beside your lover, adjusting your robes and such to ensure they cascaded and pooled around you attractively. “One day, he'll ask you to teach him how to fight. How to use cursed techniques.” 
Sukuna's expression almost softened. “Huh. That so?” 
“Mh.” You smoothed Kazuya's hair back as he settled in your lap, choosing peace over violence, unlike Genji. “They are yours. I've no doubt they'll have the same hunger for strife and knowledge.” 
They are yours. The words nearly made Sukuna sick; they weren't his per sè, they were a result of his relentless attempts to tie you down and make you stay with him no matter the cost. They only shared half of his genetics, they didn't rule his every thought nor own half of his heart. That all belonged to you.
But then why did he feel…trepidatious? The way he once felt too long ago when he knew nothing of the world and met too many cruel hands from the moment he opened his eyes. Maybe because these little ones were that age, able to run around and cause problems where they ought to not. Maybe because messing with the wrong person might not end with them slaughtering he who had the audacity to harm them, but with their young lives being lost. 
Ah. That must have been it–the petulance of his own kind pissed Sukuna off to no end. The thought of extensions of himself being looked down on brought about creeping waves of disgust and distaste. Humans were the ones who thought themselves godly enough to kill Sukuna. Humans were the ones who thought themselves mighty enough to enslave and breed a divine beast. The little ones were destined to share humanity's ire, and it pissed him off. It really pissed him off.
“Yeah,” Sukuna decided, shaking his arm to test Genji's ability to cling onto him. “I'll show ‘em a thing or two. Can't have humans beating the shit outta some godlings just for fun.”
“Well, if one were to try, I'd kill them myself,” you cooed like it was the most romantic thing in the world. “Level their village, light the sky ablaze.” 
“Now you're speakin’ my language,” Sukuna said, grinning. 
543 notes · View notes
two-white-butterflies · 2 months ago
Text
i am only a woman, he is only a man
Description: In a world of suits and betrayal, Harvey Specter keeps his personal life personal. What happens when a new associate arrives and she's dancing on the line of personal and business?
Pairing: harvey specter/reader
Warnings: implied sex (i have lost the ability to write smut)
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"Read all of this." Harvey dumps another stack of files on your desk before disappearing into the abyss called 'Pearson Hardman'. You have been working in this damn lawfirm for a week now, and not once has Harvey looked in your direction and made small talk.
He only comes here to drop files - to make you finalize agreements- and then tells Donna to collect everything. How is that man supposed to train you when all you have is minimal contact? You slowly adjust your glasses, pulling your sleeves back and preparing for another marathon of typing.
A sigh escapes your mouth. 'One day I'll be in that damn office and I'll treat the associates a whole lot better.'
"Hey," Donna stops by and leans on the slight window of your cubicle. Your eyes trail upwards, and you force a smile. "Hello,"
"Rachel and I are going out for some drinks later. D'ya wanna come?" Donna offers, and having a few drinks doesn't sound so bad. It's a Friday night and according to your contract you are not legally obligated to work on weekends. You just have to remember to put your phone on silent and make up a reason for Harvey when he calls.
You stare at the stack of files on your desk.
But at the same time, Harvey doesn't expect you to leave unless all the paperwork is done - and you don't want to finish this next week, when you are sure that there will be more work to do. "Unless you have a boyfriend and he'd be very mad to see you out." Donna shakes her eyebrows - and you know that it is a ploy to find out about your personal life. She tried to add you on Facebook yesterday.
You chuckle.
"Oh, no boyfriend. I wish." You groaned. Maybe then it'll be easier to get home with a boyfriend driving you around. "Wait, what?" Donna raised an eyebrow, her voice filled with disbelief. "You're so pretty and chic and exactly everything that a trust fund bro is looking for." Donna laughs. Pretty and chic are not the words that you would use to describe yourself - you prefer the term effortless.
Not like there is time to put in some effort because, again, work.
"Well, if Law doesn't work out, it comforts me that I might be a trust-fund baby's type." You joked in return while continuing to type furiously. 'I can't make any mistakes,'
"Men can be so blind, I swear. Have fun with your paperwork, and I'll tell Harvey to clear up your schedule next Friday. We deserve a girl's night out." Donna whispered so that none of the associates would hear. You suppose that the legal secretary has a soft spot for all females in this workplace - as it is male-dominated.
Harvard is male-dominated. Erase that; the world is male-dominated. Girls have to stick with each other, none of that bad blood shit.
"Thank you, Donna." You gave her a genuine smile.
"Okay, bye bye." She waved elegantly while returning to her cubicle parallel to Harvey's office.
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Saturday afternoon. Pearson Hardman.
You had no desire to work on a Saturday, but your apartment is lonely, and your date just stood you up. You'd rather be doing something productive than mindlessly watching Netflix with Cheeto dust on your longue wear. It has been your fifth revision of this particular contract - you try to keep it neutral and fair on both sides, lest the other side's lawyers demand a revision or add clauses that would be unfavorable to your client.
But, Harvey!
Harvey wants to keep on adding clauses that fuck the other side in the ass. In your opinion, they are bound to notice. The other side has lawyers, too and from a business standpoint - your client shouldn't be in the position to be making demands. They're bankrupt!
Normally, you'd be ranting to your best friend about Harvey at this point, but his stupid revisions are distracting you away from the failed date. It's not like your ugly or stupid but these men are only looking for the same damn thing. When they find out that you're a lawyer, they run with their tails between their legs. Emasculated.
You sighed, reaching for the sweater inside a cabinet and putting it on (you keep a stack of sweaters in one of your office drawers. It has proven to be useful during overtime). You probably look really stupid right now, way to dressed up for a Saturday work.
You are wearing this beautiful Oscar de la Renta dress that you bought from a charity thrift store down in Beverly Hills. It was red - the color of passion and French lipstick. You had a mirror at home and a perfectly good set of eyes. The dress was beautiful, it clung to your features elegantly - which is part of the reason you wore it.
You are wearing a pair of beautiful stud earrings that were once worn by the Sultana of Sarawak. You are wearing the perfect outfit, for Christ's sake. When's it gonna be your turn? When are you going to finally find a man who's able to match your intellect?
Well, surely if a man like that exists - they wouldn't be with you.
"You are aware that your salary is fixed, right? We don't have overtime pay." Harvey opens his mouth, and your eyebrows merge together. This is the first time that this man is talking to you and not at you. "Yes, I don't have anything better to do." You answered in a tone that was harsher than you wanted it to come out.
Harvey didn't seem to mind.
"Alright," he walked past and entered his office without another word.
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The sun shone against the glass windows of Pearson Hardman, and suddenly, the room became piping hot. Another sigh escaped your mouth as you pried your fingers away from the keyboard. You place your glasses down on the table, lifting your sweater away.
You drape on the cabinet beside you.
'Finally done with this stupid contract,'
You grab the printed copies from the machine before walking in the direction of Harvey's office. "Harvey?" You called out to him - unsure of how to knock on glass doors. "Come in," he answered.
His attention turns in your direction.
Holy shit, the only words that echoed in Harvey's mind.
You are beautiful.
The light of the sun enters Harvey's office, and it casts a golden glow on your skin. Your beauty is not like anything he has seen before, raw and real - standing before him. Harvey almost flinches from the burn.
"I'm done with drafting the contract," you informed while placing the files on his desk. This had to be the final draft. "Sit down," he breathes while reaching for the file, flicking it open.
Have you ever had that feeling? When you stare at someone's face, you know deep inside your heart that you can trust them, that you prefer them over all the other people that rotate around your orbit. Harvey is aware that this is the first time he's ever looked at you, because he doesn't care about the associates.
Louis gives them enough of a hard time - they don't last that long. Harvey tries not to get attached. Harvey doesn't bother to know their names, but right now, he's trying to recall yours.
Truthfully, this is the first time he's reading the damn contract. Louis sent a memo to all junior partners, it's contract week which means they give the associates a hard time when it comes to contracts. Harvey tries to abstain from the power-tripping but he doesn't want to have another conversation with Louis about how knowledge is power - he honestly didn't care if you minded.
Oh right, he remembers your name!
You studied Economics at Oxford and then Law at Harvard. You had that issue with that news thing where they accused you of being a communist, and you laughed at them on live television, mentioning something along the lines of how can an economist be a communist?
Hmm, that is why your face looks familiar. He's seen you on the screen before. "It looks like you're done with the contract." Harvey places the stack of files in one of his drawers. The contract was due for another week - he can't believe that you had it finished this fast.
Your glare softens, expecting a fight but receiving none. "Oh," you say at lost with words. "You may leave if you want, or you can finish our argument with Singh v. Cohmer." Harvey leans on his chair.
"I'll stay for a while. Goodbye, Harvey." You stood up.
He wants to say goodbye in return, but he doesn't.
He shakes the thought of you away from his head. Harvey Specter does not have time for falling in love - only casual things.
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Casual things.
Harvey says in the back of his mind as he traces imaginary lines on your back. That was the best sex of his entire life.
You gently stir awake. "You can sleep in," Harvey whispers.
The scene unfolding in front of you looks painfully domestic. You turned around to look at his face. The sunlight cast a glow on his face that made him look ethereal, tangible, and almost yours. He reaches for your glasses on his nightstand and places them on your face, and suddenly his own face is much clearer.
Suddenly, he's only a man and you're only a woman.
"I should probably leave," you deny his offer before it becomes real. You've heard stories about the women in his life - he's not the type of man who gets in a committed relationship. Loyalty is a two-way street, and if he has to ask it from you - you won't get it from him.
"Breakfast? I can't let you leave on an empty stomach," Harvey says smoothly, his hands still on your body. "Don't worry about me," you smiled while rising from the sheets and fastening your bra on.
"I'll see you tomorrow," you winked while reaching for your discarded heels on the floor.
"Goodbye," Harvey says, watching as you elegantly lift your dress on.
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Monday morning. You know how everyone says that having sex with someone feels like a soul bond? You feel like that now.
You spent the entire Sunday evening convincing yourself that the tryst with Harvey was nothing but a caprice, a sudden emotion felt, and that it was never going to happen again - because truthfully, you aren't very close with Harvey.
He's just another one-night stand. Your first one night stand. But, just one boy from the dozens you'll meet in the future.
There is nothing special about him.
There is nothing special with the best closer of New York City. There is nothing special with the smartest man in this office.
There is nothing special with Harvey Specter.
No, fuck it. He is special.
He's one in a million.
"You look different." Rachel was the first to notice the shift in your demeanor. "You look different!" You snapped in surprise.
She raises an eyebrow.
"Did that date of yours finally become a success?" She inquired with an amused look. "Please, he stood me up." You scoffed while entering the printing room. People always say that other people post-sex have this special glow about them...'Do I have that annoying glow?'
"Then, why do you look so bright?" Rachel struggles to find the right words. "Oh, Harvey finally approved the contracts." You breathed a sigh of relief, and she nodded, though not quite satisfied with the answer. "That's amazing, but I wouldn't do a good job if I were you - instead of raising our salaries, they're just gonna raise our tasks." Rachel winks, and you answer with a slight giggle.
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Harvey marches over to your cubicle, oblivious to the stares of the associates. It is seldom that Harvey is seen in the lower officers. "You're coming with me." He commands, as he continues walking. You hurriedly reach for your bags and keys before walking after him.
"Where are we going?" You ask.
He presses a button on the elevator. "We're going to be dealing with a high-profile client today. Jessica says that the stakes aren't that big legally, but our reputation relies on whether or not we deliver our client's wants. I figured that it'd be easy enough for you," he glances.
Harvey Specter doesn't like losing.
"What is the case even about?" Your eyebrows merged together as you both walked inside the elevator.
Harvey glares at the associates who try to enter. The door closes, with them staring at the both of you.
"A client is trying to sue Cathay Pacific. They booked business class tickets with their friends, but due to an overload in passengers, they got upgraded to first class." Harvey explains, and your eyebrows merge together. "But, why would they want to sue for being in first class?" You ask.
"Because their friends, the exiled Greek royals, were left in business."
The elevator opens again as it settles on the ground floor. You are left with a confused expression as he exits.
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"Tell me everything you know that we can use against them," Harvey says while opening the door for you. "Well, we have to consider the fact that the court may not see the involuntary upgrade of a passenger to a superior class worthy of suing for damages." Your mind traces back to the millions of cases you read in law school.
He reaches for a stack of files in one of the compartments as the car slowly moves. He hands you those said stacked files.
You skimmed through them, looking for anything that might be worthy enough to raise articles upon. "Well, our clients did say that they didn't want to get upgraded, the flight attendant, Mrs. Trevino, spoke in a loud, discourteous voice. We can sue for nominal, moral, exemplary damages as well as the attorney's fees. Cathay is a big airline; we'd want to set a precedence." You continued talking.
Unware of his stare on your face.
"We can't sue them for upgrading our clients to a superior class, but we can sue them for pushing through even after our clients denied their offer." Harvey answers in a simpler term and you nod. "The upgrading was tainted with bad faith." You added, staring deep into his eyes - god he looks so beautiful you might just die.
He's exactly your type - strong, assertive, smart.
You can almost see yourself wrapped in his embrace once more, sitting on his lap and pressing kisses on his neck. But you are not the woman that he wants - there is no woman that he wants. To a man like Harvey Specter, the entire world is an arm's length away, and you are nothing new.
"I feel like I need to warn you. Our clients are infamous for being a couple who loves each other very much. Henry and Teresa Lee." Harvey gave a quick preface. The last time he remembers spending time with those clients and Teresa proceeding to 'offer' her daughter's hand in marriage because life without love is horrible, and Harvey, to her, seems like a good and proper man.
Of course, he denied that offer. He's not a big fan of marriage.
"Oh, the performance artists!" You remember them from the hours you spent back in the English Museum of Arts. "Yep, and you are in luck because they have a son, and they might betroth you to him." Harvey finds himself joking around in your presence.
"Oh, please, how positively medieval." You rolled your eyes.
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"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Lee." You greeted with a cordial smile. To your pleasant surprise, there are thousands of pastries on the coffee table, waiting on the veranda. "Good morning," Harvey says, putting on his poker face. It always surprises you to see Harvey locked in the game. He always wins.
"It's such a pleasure to have the both of you here. I am sure that Atty. Jessica has already briefed you about the case that we are building against Cathay." Henry Lee says while taking a sip of his coffee.
"We were scandalized! The Greek Royal family is known for their simple life. I had to beg them for us to sit in business class, they usually fly economy, and then to my surprise this awfully dressed stewardess just goes ahead and tells me that my Henry and I are supposed to sit in business class. What do they expect! We can't just leave the Greek Royals in nasty business class!" Teresa Lee complains, and she looks severely stressed out.
You can see how they felt offended by the sudden upgrade, but that doesn't take the outrageousness out of the situation.
"Cathay made it seem as if we were better than the Greek Royals! Oh, I had to apologize to them and send them Uncle Alfred's balaklava that his chef made from a kitchen in Surrey. It's a good thing that the Greeks were quite nice, but now I feel as if they won't allow our Daisy May to marry their Alexandros." Teresa continues speaking and you nod along.
"Oh, Daisy May is marrying Prince Alexandros?" Harvey raises an eyebrow as if it's an inside joke that he has with himself. "Mr. Specter, you made it very clear that you didn't want to marry our Daisy May." Teresa replies in a teasing manner, no bad blood between them.
"I'm afraid Daisy May deserved someone better," Harvey replies quickly, still keeping up the charming facade. "You were with their daughter?" You turned to look at him, surprised by your sudden question. 'Fuck, I shouldn't have asked that.'
Teresa Lee was the first to giggle. "Oh no, sweet girl. I wanted Harvey to pursue Daisy May. She was going through her awkward twenties, but worry not because Harvey only loves one woman, and that is you." She giggles and suddenly you turn bright red.
"Oh, I'm not with Harvey. I'm an associate for Pearson Hardman." You were quick to correct with practiced poise. Teresa Lee frowns. "Apologies darling, I was sensing a connection between you two." She apologizes and a smile returns to your face.
Grace under pressure.
"Please forgive my wife; she loves to play matchmaker." Henry antagonized, earning a playful slap from his wife. "But I don't think that we need to discuss more of Cathay Pacific. Teresa is already very traumatized, and I trust you, Harvey." He says with absolute certainty that he has already won the case.
"I don't like losing. I'll make it clear to the Greek royals that it was Cathay's fault and not yours." Harvey said all the words that they wanted to hear. "Thank you, Harvey," Teresa says sweetly. "Now, shall we speak of that match in Wimbledon?" Henry says to Harvey.
"It was horrible, Henry. What has become of the sport?"
Once again, Harvey says what the client wants to hear.
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WHEREFORE, the instant petition is hereby GRANTED. The Decision of the Court of Appeals of 8 March 2018 in _____ is hereby MODIFIED, and as modified, the awards for moral damages, attorney's fees, and nominal damages are set to $100,000, $1,000,000, and $20,000, respectively.
SO ORDERED.
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Harvey leans on the window-like hole of your cubicle. He looks down on your sleeping form, the light of the computer casting a familiar glow on your face. "You aren't supposed to sleep during company hours." Harvey teases - although all the associates are already gone. Fucking pussies, he thinks to himself.
During his time as an associate, he'd take a bath in Pearson Hardman!
You suddenly snap awake, a panicked look on your face, but it goes away once you see that it is only Harvey. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long day." You reached for your coat on the desk. "Congratulations on your first win. I didn't think you had it inside of you," he jokes.
"It is one esoteric case." You gave him an indulgent smile.
He reaches for a check inside of his pockets, handing it to you.
"Your first bonus, courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Lee." He informs. "Do you want to celebrate your first victory?" He offers with a hopeful stare. He doesn't know where this thing is going to lead to, but when he is around your presence - suddenly, everything is certain.
"As long as the bill is on you, Mr. Specter." You smile.
"It always is," he rolls his eyes.
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Harvey settles on the empty seat in front of you. It almost feels like a date - if it weren't for your corporate attire. "Do I have to deal with cases like that daily? Or are the Lees just one peculiar bunch?" You ask, and he chuckles, reaching for the menu.
"I'd say that I prefer those instead of the normal ones we get. The Lees have a personal reason - they had something to lose. The most annoying types of clients are the ones who have everything but would still kill someone for anything." Harvey continues speaking.
A man who speaks of honor should work for the D.A. Corporate lawyers are not exactly known for their honor.
"- but they all pay us the same." You take a sip of the wine.
"Congratulations, by the way. You treated the case with seriousness, and you bonded well with our clients." Harvey compliments. "- What is it that you want to eat, by the way?" He gently deviates from the topic. "Just some grilled salmon. It's been a while since I've had fish." You say and he mentally notes it.
"Thank you for telling Jessica that I helped you with the case," you thanked him profusely. Delighted to finally be on Jessica's radar, even though your presence in Pearson Hardman will be short-lived.
"You did, so you only have yourself to thank." Harvey remains humble. "- hopefully you'll do your next cases on your own." He adds.
You couldn't find it in yourself to tell him the truth.
That you are leaving Pearson Hardman.
You take a deep breath, pushing that thought away from your head. Allowing the night to push you deeper into conversations with Harvey. It started with conversations about work, to your interests, to you explaining the Illiad, and to him explaining the Roman Empire. Slowly, you were learning each other's wants and likes.
It feels like staring at a mirror.
"My professor made us watch Helen of Troy 2003, and I had to audibly gasp when that scene with Agammemnon came on!" Your eyes widen, surprised at his defense of the movie. "It was climactic. It feels like the final straw from Clytemnestra." He defended.
"- but I never did quite get that movie. I feel like they should have leaned more towards Aphrodite's interference, because the entire time my classmates were screaming, Helen you're married!" You giggled and he laughs in return. He slightly tenses up at the mention of infidelity, but he relaxes before you can notice.
"What I couldn't understand was how Meneleus forgave her." Harvey finds the wine, talking. He can't understand how his mother cheated on his father multiple times - he cannot understand how his father doesn't hate his mother with all of his heart. Humans can be such dynamic figures. "We can't look at their lives through our measures. It was a different time," you shrugged.
A silence befalls the both of you.
"You're the second person who knows, but I'm moving to LA." You tell him, unable to keep it in. This is your last dinner together, and you feel like you must tell him before he hears it from Donna.
"That's great," he pretends not to care, but his eyes betray him. Harvey Specter does not make personal connections. He doesn't care about what other people feel. He sure as hell won't miss you. "Are you sure that you want to leave Pearson Hardman?" He inquires, telling himself that he is only asking as your superior and nothing else.
"Yep, the pay is good, and my dad is giving me the apartment that he owns there. He just needs someone to handle our business while he undergoes surgeries. It's temporary, but at the same time, I don't expect to have anything to return to here." You explained.
Half of your heart hoping that he'd fight for this. But there is no 'this'.
"Have fun in LA." Harvey smiles, masking his sadness with a sip of wine.
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Donna sighs, staring at Harvey's slumped figure on the couch.
"She's leaving, Donna. There is nothing that I can do about that." He rolls his eyes. Donna was the first person to find out about Harvey's fancy for you, and she encouraged him to pursue those feelings. Now, as if a god is pulling the both of you apart - you are needed in LA, which isn't good for Harvey.
"You can still visit her, just because she's 40 hours away doesn't mean that she's suddenly unattainable. You still love her, right?" Donna raises an eyebrow.
Harvey wasn't the type of person who'd pursue a woman. He almost immediately gets them after the first night, and then they're desperate to have him as their boyfriend. Harvey has a silver tongue, and somehow, you are strong enough to resist his defenses; at least, that is what Harvey believes.
Donna knows better, though.
Every time she catches you staring at Harvey's figure, she sees love flood your features. The type of love that isn't lustful or needy, but the type of love that cooks for breakfast and makes morning tea. Donna knows that her best friend deserves that kind of love.
He doesn't know it though.
"Love is nothing but a concept," Harvey breathes.
"One day you're going to regret letting her go!" Donna warns while walking out of his office.
He's already beginning to regret it now.
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DONNA PAULSEN Do you really have to leave? :( I'm sad to see you go. Harvey too.
YOU That's bs Stop making be believe things!
DONNA PAULSEN I remember you telling me that he was your crush 😂
YOU I was drunk On my #2 margarita :))
DONNA PAULSEN Don't tell him I said this but pretty sure he likes you too
YOU fuck u 😭
DONNA PAULSEN Can you please just tell him that you like him? then watch all the magic unfold
YOU As much as I'd want to date him He's not the kind of guy who'd settle At least not at this point of his life I love him dude 😭
DONNA PAULSEN See!!! You love him CONFESS CONFESS CONFESS
YOU But we both know him If I tell him that I like him now, he's gonna get scared We'll stay friends or whatever 😭 his brother lives in LA I already spoke to his brother btw #GOALS
YOU Also his wife said that I get to be godmother of their baby She's pregnant btw if u didn't know!!
DONNA PAULSEN You are so insufferable Creepy You'd rather be his niece/nephew's godmother than his girlfriend 🤣
YOU Well! If I tell him that I like him now I'll probably stop being his niece's godmother (it's a niece) AND OKAY BEFORE I GET ON THE PLANE I will tell you something I have never told anyone before
DONNA PAULSEN Okay okay I'm hooked TELL ME
YOU We had sex like a year ago? I have only been an associate for a week back then
DONNA PAULSEN OMG!!!! OH MY GOD ACTUALLY LIKE ?? WHAT
YOU It's only a casual thing to him Donna I'm alright with where I'm at right now And even if we do get together he'll get scared trust me It's just not the right time
YOU Bye bye tho I have to board the plane now. 🥰 I will miss you so much
DONNA PAULSEN Byeee! I love you
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202 notes · View notes
mt-oe · 11 months ago
Note
Ummm
Mizu with breeding kink ???? 😵‍💫🫣
Please 🙏
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dear!
Sorry for being so late on this and thank you for requesting ;;
I hope I somehow make up for it with how I wrote it. Honestly though, this was one of the requests I expected to receive and actually receiving it was so funny. In all seriousness, I really appreciate it <3
Sorry if this one sucks or isn't up to what you'd like it to be. I don't think I cooked with this one since I wanted to try something slightly different ;; Please don't get mad or disappointed in me. I'll do better next time!
Anyways, hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa <3
warning/s: not proofread, smut (mdni!), mention of impregnation, referring to the strap as a cock/dick, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader
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Clear blue eyes followed your figure with a seemingly neutral expression. Mizu had to remind herself numerous times that she agreed to this, that whatever the fuck she was currently feeling was the consequence of her own agreement.
The situation was simpler that it seems actually. It was the middle of summer, sun shining and the heat cooking it up. She had decided that it was a good time to modify and make the necessary repairs to her motorbike. However, just as she was about to finish and wash her bike, you had woken up and joined her.
Reason unknown to her, the idea of washing her bike seemed so appealing to you. "Let me do it. Just tell me how," you insisted, grabbing the sponge from her. Aww damn, you looked so excited too.
There was no harm in letting you, right?
That was where she was wrong. What seemed like an innocent little task ended up making her so fucking internally flustered. She knew it was hot out. Sweat was already soaking her back, dripping down her neck and chin. But what she didn't expect was for you to come help her in your tank top and shorts.
Now her thoughts were spiraling between wanting to help you and wanting to bend you down on her bike and fuck you until her seats were dripping.
Admiring your body, her eyes couldn't help but admire the way it moved as you hauled the hose over to her bike, untangling the rubber. She noticed the way the fabric of your clothes clung to your body from the sweat and something poking through your top. Fuck...you weren't wearing a bra, weren't you?
This was really her fault. The wetness between her legs was purely her fault. Why did she even agree to this?
"So I just avoid the fuel tank and the exhaust?" you asked her, voice almost radiating with innocent excitement as you directed the hose towards her bike. Your giggles filling the garage as you played with the water pressure, droplets splashing back everywhere.
Water ran down your arms, your collarbone down to your shirt, making it slightly see-through. Her gaze followed its trajectory with deep fascination, breath hitching almost violently as it landed on to your breasts.
She didn't know what was wrong with her today. She wasn't usually this uncontrollably horny, but goddamn. Maybe she was ovulating or something. Because right now, she wanted nothing more than to slip her hands under your shirt, pull you close to her so she could hear the soft sweet sounds from your mouth while she toyed with your nipples.
The image of your cheeks flushing red as you looked up at her, ass grinding against hers wantonly while you bit your lip. Your breath would hitch with every pinch, every tug, even with every squeeze. Small pleas and mewls would accompany the way your hips would move against hers like a dance meant for her only. "Do we really have to do this right now? L-Let's just go back in and fuck ple—"
splash.
"Am I doing this right? Why aren't you talking?" She was pulled out of the trance she was in as you splashed the water by her feet, making her jump a bit. You raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior, placing a hand on your hip. "Are you okay?" you asked, tilting your head a bit.
Mizu cleared her throat and nodded, lifting her head but looking everywhere except at you. "Yeah...The heat's just getting to me," she replied, trying her best to appear nonchalant and turning her focus to her bike. "It looks good just make sure to use the soft side of the sponge when you soap it."
You nodded in understanding before sauntering over to the cabinets to look for the soap. Eyebrows furrowing, your eyes scanned over each bottle before moving to the next cabinet. Just when she thought she could take a break, you suddenly got on your knees as you looked for the soap on the lower shelves. "Is it on this shelf?" you asked, pointing at it.
Yup, it was actually on that shelf, but damn fuck it.
"No, I think it's on the bottom one," she answered, leaning forward in her seat slightly, pretending to look. You gave her a small nod and shifted, bending over further. While you were busy turning every bottle on the shelf in search for the soap, she let her imagination wander further. Her eyes tracing the curvature, fingers twitching ever so slightly at the urge to head over for a small grab.
She'd place a hand on your back and push you down further, forcing you to arch your back for her while her other hand slipped under the fabric of your shorts, feeling the wetness growing on your panties. The tips of her fingers dipping ever so slightly, just enough to feel it but never enough to get off on it. Oh how sweetly you'd whine.
And if you pleaded well enough to satisfy her, she might just slip her hand under your panties, dip her fingers in your entrance shallowly to gather a bit of slick before moving up to your clit. The hand on your back would be replaced by her body, pressing down on you to keep you from squirming too much while she toys with the sensitive bundle of nerves.
She'd start out at a deliberately slow pace, tracing shapes on to your clit, drawing out each moan and gasp from your lips until you were whining and begging her to go faster. But she'd keep you there, until you could yourself dripping onto her fingers, entrance throbbing as if asking her to fill you up.
You'd beg her to put it in, eyes teary and hazed with lust. If you begged hard enough to please her, she'd tangle her fingers within the locks of your hair and grip it, pulling you up with one hand while she put her strap on with the other.
"Use your mouth," she'd order you, pushing your head towards the tip of the silicone. Gratefully, you open your mouth and give the head a few kitten licks to get it nice and wet before wrapping your lips around it. Moans reverberating in your throat as she pushes you down, causing your eyes to water as you choke on the plastic, gasping deeply upon pulling away before she pushes you down again.
Your jaw would definitely hurt, but you'd take it for her.
You were a good girl, weren't you?
Once her strap was wet enough, she'd pull your hair back and make you bend over her bike. Her hands would hurriedly pull your shorts down along with your panties before aligning herself against your hole. She'd watch as the toy sinks inside of your entrance, your thighs jiggling slightly as you trembled, a loud moan ripping from your mouth while your eyes rolled back. Wet squelching noises would echo in the garage while she—
"Woah I found it!" you chirped, sitting up with the bottle of soap in your hands.
Fuck. Damnit.
"Where was it?" she asked, pretending not to know. "It was on the middle shelves. I guess you misplaced it," you replied, standing up and closing the cabinet. Mizu nodded and changed the way she crossed her legs, trying to keep the arousal between her legs quelled.
You made your way over to her bike before curiously pouring the soap in a bucket of water, swishing your hand inside to create some bubbles before dipping the sponge in and scrubbing her bike. Your giggles and small hummed tunes sounded around while you worked excitedly, aiming to please your lover.
Meanwhile, her head was reeling with images of your figure bent-over her bike while she plows her dick in you. "You're moaning like a bitch," she'd groan, a slight chuckle leaving her lips as you whined in response, brain unable to form words. "I could probably put a baby in you if I wanted to."
A baby?
Yeah that sounds like a good idea, your fucked-out brain would say
Your head would nod desperately, making her laugh. "That sound good to you?" she'd ask almost mockingly, gripping your chin to make you look at her. She'd admire how fucked silly you looked. How pretty you were even when your mind was overwhelmed with pleasure, tears streaming from your eyes, drool at the side of your lips. "Mhm...cum in me please," you'd beg her, a sultry laughter mixing in with your moans, making her groan.
Her lips would kiss you from the temples down to your neck, one hand rubbing your clit in circles while she went in deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin would echo around. A sense of satisfaction washing over her upon hearing your moans turn into squeals and sobs. "I'll blow it deep inside you...make you the prettiest momma," she'd whisper, smirk ghosting her lips as you nodded, letting out a long drawn whine. Her hands would grip the plush of your ass while sexing out any coherent thoughts you'd have left. She'd go in so deep you'd think you could feel her from your liver to your lungs.
"Cum in me...please..love.." you'd beg, face against her seat as your arms grew weaker. Your words sending a rush of heat to her loins, encouraging her to go faster. Her dick may be plastic but she'd sure as hell give you what you want. Mizu's movements would grow more erratic, aiming to give you what you begged her for.
You want her to cum in you? She fucking will. She'd push it in so deep you'd forget it was impossible. The tip of her dick would make your cervix bruise while you couldn't help but ask for more. Ask her to fuck you more.
To fuck you harder.
To fuck her babies into you.
Fuuuuuck.
You'd feel the intense coil of climax building up inside you. Your cries and moans would get louder with every thrust. A loud cry followed by incoherent sobbing would accompany your release. "O-Oh shit.." you'd gasp out, a weak moan leaving you as she slowly pulled out, a ring of your cum creaming at the base of her cock. Your figure would slowly sink down to the floor, knees too weak to keep you body up. "Fuck.. Mizu.."
"Mizu? Mizu! Hey Mizu!"
Your voice once again pulls her out of her imagination with a jolt. A surprised noise coming from you as you stepped back. "W-What's going on?" she asked, looking around as she tried to pull herself to reality.
A confused look graces your features before you step back to show her your work. "I'm finished. And I put the wax on too. You do do that, right?" you asked her, frowning a bit at how red her cheeks were. "Actually forget that. Are you okay?"
She coughs a bit, straightening herself up. "Its just the heat," she answers, grasping the collar of her shirt to fan herself. Uncrossing her legs, she grimaces at the slip of her wetness between her legs.
"Are you sure?" you ask her, tilting your head and bending down a bit. Blue eyes wandered down to your chest again, blanking out slightly before she nods, then pausing as a thought rushes through her head.
"Actually.. I do think you can help me with something," she says.
"What is it?"
"Let's go inside first."
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devilander · 11 months ago
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in teaching you will learn (chapter 1)
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18+ 3k. homelander x tutor f!reader. employer and employee sexual tension. abuse of power. fingering. AO3 link.
You accepted a job proposal to work as a History tutor to Homelander's son. It suddenly turns out to be more than you had bargained for.
prompt sent by @plasticfangtastic, thank you so much! beta'ed by @flaggermuser, love you!
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Ryan was a very smart child. Powerful and smart, naturally, as any of Homelander’s offspring would be. So, to sate his endless curiosity, tutors—from the best universities, Homelander would settle for nothing else—of all subjects were hired to teach whatever was needed, whatever Ryan liked.
You had never imagined yourself in this position, History tutor to the Homelander’s son. But when you received Vought’s call, and they told you the paycheck that’d come with it, you immediately agreed. A non-supe, you wondered what it’d be like to deal with such a special kid, if Homelander would disapprove of your ways and send you packing on the first day. 
Insecurities were never your thing—you had received a M.A in History and Literature, for god’s sake! This was your turf. 
But… teaching a child? Whenever you would envision your future, you always imagined yourself as a professor, strict and serious, dealing solely with adults or, at most, young adults. 
You'd rise up, though, you knew it—even if you needed to spend all of your nights, from dusk ‘till dawn, watching videos on gentle parenting, endless courses on “childhood education” and teaching young learners. You would do it, and you would do it perfectly.
On your first day, you had a whole speech prepared, something about how much of an honor it was, how excited you were, how many ideas you already had; your stomach fluttered as you looked at his clear blue eyes, beautiful nose—
Homelander barely let you start. 
“Now.” He raised his hands, effectively shutting you up. “Enough with the yada yada, ‘kay? Let's get some things straight—all of your ideas gatta be approved by me first. And Ryan.”
“I'm sure, sir, I only meant—”
“And you'll not be berating him, for whatever fucking reason. You're not the boss here. I am. And, well, if he complains about anything, anything really, you’ll be… dismissed. That understood?” He had a congenial smile on his face, though you swore his eyes shined red, if only for a second. “Take care of my son, huh?”
He patted you on the shoulder and left. You just stood there, fuming and exasperated. If there's one thing you hated with a passion was condescending men; interrupting and disregarding your words as inane silliness. 
High and mighty as he was, Homelander was cut from the same cloth as them, it seemed. If it weren’t for your student debt piling up, you’d turn around and leave. As it were, you gritted your teeth and stayed. 
After that, though, you hardly ever saw him, and when you did, he only gave you an indiscernible look and a nod. 
Fine by me, you thought bitterly, mad at yourself that he'd surely noticed your flushed cheeks and quickened breath at your first real sight of him.
Ryan was sweet though. Sharp and eager to learn whatever you presented him with, such that you moved on quickly from fifth, sixth, to a seventh-grade curriculum. 
You found a happy medium—keeping it fun and educational. And you knew, you knew, whenever you were there, Homelander was watching you. 
And he was. Of course he was. He’d had his fair share of tutors Vogelbaum would present him with. Condescending little assholes, always thinking they knew better, reporting every minor thing he did, lecturing and punishing at their pleasure. 
As if he'd let his kid suffer the same fate. 
Education was, however, important, so he hired simpering tutors—a school would not do, no place was fit for Ryan—and those who didn't know their place were quickly taken care of. 
Yet you, the third History teacher hired (the first one was such a fucking mess—snapping his neck as soon as he left Vought was not enough for having the gall to rudely reprimand his son) were doing well so far. 
Oh, he had seen how you blushed and stuttered when you two met, and he had seen how you gradually steeled your eyes at his words. 
He had also noticed the sway of your hips, your pink, heart shaped mouth, the addictive sound of your voice—your scrunched up nose as you looked at him in poorly disguised anger.
So, yes, of course, of course he was watching, for more reasons than one. 
One day, when you and Ryan were talking animatedly about the creation of the American Constitution, Homelander decided to barge in, almost knocking the door off of its hinges.
You nearly fell off your seat in surprise, for a second scared and worried, until you saw his face. He looked as happy as a kid. Well, happier than Ryan. 
“Wowza,” he said. “What party do you two have goin’ on here? I could hear you from the hallway.” 
He could hear no matter how loud you were, but you got the gist. Smiling, though miffed at the interruption, you crossed the room, and he met you halfway.
“I was showing Ryan this book. Look.” He leaned down, his face touching yours. Oh God, oh God, wrong move. “It contains all of Thomas Paine's pamphlets published during the war in its original format. We were discussing how Paine's thoughts impacted on the Constitution’s writing.”
“Very nice,” he said, still so close to you the pure heat his body radiated engulfed your senses. And your body kept betraying, and betraying, and fucking betraying you.
“Oh, I love this part.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn't quiver, and started to read out loud. “Tyranny, like hell—”
“Is not easily conquered.” Homelander completed, and you looked up, only to find him already looking at you.
His hand then rested on your arm, lingering for a few seconds too long, his eyes locking you in place. You gulped, heart thumping in your chest—
“Dad,” Ryan bemoaned. Homelander dropped his hand instantly. “This is my class. You're interrupting us!”
Homelander frowned, then almost pouted. 
“Geez, buddy, what a way to treat your old man.” He crossed his arms; you contained a giggle. His eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to you. “Can I be your student for the day? I promise to behave.” 
“I don't see why n—”
“No,” Ryan exclaimed, interrupting you. “No, no and no!” 
Though he tried, there was no convincing Ryan. He wouldn't share the time he had with you. Inwardly, you smiled at the kid’s innocent jealousy; and thanked the heavens for the save, you certainly needed it. 
Huffing and stomping his feet, Homelander left the room, but not without giving his son an annoyed glare and you a look you couldn't—wouldn't—name yet. Maybe ever. 
Weeks passed, classes going smoothly despite your warring thoughts. You were attracted to Homelander, because of course you were; lucky you. Your boss, supe, leader of the Seven. The man who had so far threatened you, talked with you, touched you… 
Fear tinged with desire, confusion with curiosity. He was equal parts charming and infuriating. Would you dare to willingly put your hand in the mouth of the tiger? 
It became routine for Homelander to participate—or interrupt—your lessons to share his own opinions, much to Ryan's chagrin. And you… you were endeared. 
“Think you could've done a better job than Theodore Roosevelt? Really?” Your disbelieving tone didn't seem to put him off, just the opposite.
“I'm certain I could.”
His playful smile and arrogant tone annoyed you. Enchanted you. 
“Well, you should try for president, then,” you joked, catching yourself turning fully towards him. “You'll beat the records of votes and rule this grand nation!”
He hummed, winking at you. “Yeah, no. Not really in my… interests right now.”
“Would you make a Shermanesque statement on that?”
Homelander laughed, shaking his head. 
“Nah, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His eyes roamed over your body. “Couldn’t have that.” 
“What’s Sherman—Shermesque,” Ryan piped in, furrowing his brows as he stumbled over the word. “What are you talking about?”
“If nominated, I will not run; If elected, I will not serve,” you spoke at the same time and giggled, giggled!, together. Stop giggling like a schoolgirl, you chastised yourself, but you couldn't help it. There was such a thrill about flirting with danger in the flesh. 
Turning to Ryan, you explained. “It’s something William Sherman said. He was a popular general during the Civil War and was being considered as the Republican candidate during presidential elections. He, however, refused!” When excited, your arms had a mind of their own, and you found yourself gesturing wildly, enthusiastically. “His words became really popular from then on, such that it's now called a Shermanesque statement, and sometimes used by politicians and the like.”
Homelander couldn’t help but stare while you talked, entranced by your passionate speech, flushed cheeks and shining eyes. You were so fucking cute, deliciously captivating—even in your pitiful stubborn act, or all the more enticing because of it. He wanted to savor each and every moment you walked about the room; wanted to catalog your breath changes, the rises of your voice, your moving lips. 
Would you be just as responsive in another, more interesting scenario?, he wondered. Maybe you would want to take charge, bossy little thing you are. Maybe he’d have to bend you just shy of breaking you only to see you beg—beg him to fuck you, to let you come on his fingers, mouth and cock. 
His filthy thoughts raged on, only interrupted when you announced your time was up. Ryan groans in disappointment and Homelander has a hard time not doing the same. He hungers for more moments with you. Alone.   
“C’mon, kiddo,” he says, noticing Ryan stalling to tidy up his books and supplies as he liked to do. “You gotta get ready for your shooting today.”
Ryan grumbles under his breath. “I hate these commercials.”
Before he can answer, you approach, tousling Ryan’s hair and leaning down to look him in the eyes. 
“Hey, sweetheart, it will be okay. Just play pretend like we talked,” you said. “And if it gets too much, I'm sure your dad will take care of it. I'll bring you a treat tomorrow, how about that?”
He should probably put you in your place for daring to presume you know shit about him and his son—as if your puny mind could understand the greater beings they were. And yet, and yet… Ryan was smiling, rushing to embrace you though his quick heartbeat betrayed how nervous he was. You hugged him back, and looked at Homelander with such sweet grin that he—fuck, he felt fucking breathless.
He wanted to kiss you. 
When Ryan left the room, you snatched your purse, seemingly wanting to leave as quickly as possible. But Homelander stood in front of the door, unmoving, his jewel-toned eyes intensely fixated on you. 
A sudden heat spread through your body, and you let out a breathy sigh. And he noticed; eyes tracking over your face and chest, like undressing you with his mind. 
Perhaps he was. He certainly could. The thought made you desperate, you needed to run. Your apartament wouldn't be enough, maybe you should catch a bus to Jersey. Or a fucking plane to—Russia, or farther—
“Want me to give you a ride?” You were so distracted you barely heard his words, much less the double entendre. 
“What?” 
He snickered. “I said—”
“No! I mean yes. I mean no!” You shook your head, dizzy. “No, sir, I wouldn't want to trouble you.”
“Ah but there's no trouble at all, it'll take a minute. I know where you live.”
“You do?” A shudder ran through you.
“Of course, you silly goose. It's in your resume.” He tapped your nose, a gesture so off-putting you snorted, suddenly aware he'd closed the distance without you noticing. “Let's go, little miss mouthy. Don't make me insist,” he declared, voice still cheerful, but you caught the edge of it, leaving no room for argument. 
“Okay, okay… But only this time!” 
Homelander simply laughed. 
Reaching the balcony, you looked down and froze. Too high, too high!, your brain screamed at you. 
“Hehe, on second thought…” You looked at him pleadingly, a weird laugh bubbling out in sheer nervousness. You gripped the banister as if your very life depended on it. 
“Ah, ah. No takesies backsies.” He wiggled his finger in your face, and, for a single moment, two, three seconds?, caressed your cheek softly. 
Before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist and took off. Panic stricken, you hid your face in his neck, dangling legs instinctively circling his hips; much like a koala, you held on to him in all ways you could—even your fingers found locks of his hair to grip mercilessly.
Through the rush of the wind, you felt, more than heard, his laugh. 
It took some seconds to catch on to the overwhelming closeness between you two—how every inch of your body was adhering to his, how you could feel the impressive strength emanating from him, how his warm breath was hitting your neck, leaving shivers in its wake. 
You could feel it all. No matter the padded suit, you felt the tension in his muscles, the upheaval in his chest as he drew you even closer and fuck you couldn't fucking help clenching your cunt and exhaling right next to his ear—
In a second, Homelander had you on the roof of your building.
You didn't want to look up, fearing what he'd throw at you, anger and indifference or lust and temptation. Both shook you to your core. 
“Wakie, wakie,” he said, breathless, a certain roughness to his tone. His hands squeezed your back with surprising care. Each second was too long, and yet not enough. 
And then you felt it, as you started to disentangle yourself from his body, his cock, hard and throbbing, poking your stomach, dangerously close to where you ached for it the most. 
You looked up. 
There was no smirk, no mocking eyes—only a stare so intense your heart skipped a beat. 
“Thank you, Homelander, for the—for the ride. I appreciate it, despite you almost giving me a heart attack at first.” You giggled, trying to dispel the mood.
“How about you thank me by inviting me in? Y’know what they say, actions speak louder than words.” 
“No, I…” you hesitated, trying to think of an excuse but your mind went blank. “No.”
Homelander cocked his head, dazzling smile turning a little unnerving. “No? Is that right?”
“How about another day? I can—”
“I didn't fucking ask for a bullshit, out-of-pity mock invite, did I? What is it, hiding some terrorists in your shithole apartment? Or mommy’s dead body?”
If it weren't for his looming over you, you'd crack a laugh—his mind certainly went places. 
“Listen—” You started again, only to be pushed until your back hit the roof's door, knocking the air out of you. 
“You listen,” he ground out, eyes a kaleidoscope of red and blue. It was painfully exhilarating. “Don’t try lying to me. I can sense you, I can fucking smell you, your pussy is soaked.” To prove his point, he removed one glove and opened up your pants; your panties were shoved aside as he squeezed two fingers inside you. You whimpered at the burn of his intrusion, but you were so wet the squelch was loud even to your ears. “You either invite me in or I'll rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. Your choice, sweetheart.”
Homelander was being nice in giving you a choice, despite the fact you were a rude tease, and a liar to boot. His fingers kept pumping in and out of you, and he found it so fucking hard not to go all the way, not to have you against this door while you moaned so, so sweetly. 
He needed you—to feel you clenching on his cock as you did now on his fingers. And you wanted him. Fuck, you were whining and opening your legs so he could finger you better, clinging onto his waist as your head rested on his shoulder. Still, you dazedly shook your head. What was the matter with you?
“Oh, please, please,” you half begged, half moaned, raspy voice driving him crazy. “We can't, I can't…”
“Give me one good fucking reason why not, huh. One.”
Instead of answering, you kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, but reciprocated in an instant. And it was all you expected it'd be, messy and passionate and hot; he consumed you, drinking in every part of you, all you had to give, and what you wouldn’t give, he would take. 
You gathered his face in your hands, wanting a little bit of tenderness in the violent chaos of you, a little bit of love—if you could.
His hand kept working on you, thumb rubbing your clit in circles and, before you ran completely out of breath, you came so hard your legs gave out. 
Perfect for Homelander to catch, hold you onto his body as you rode the waves of your pleasure—so beautiful he was enraptured. 
After a few moments, you whispered. “I can't let you in. If I do, I won't think straight, I'll just let you do anything you want to me.” 
“Is that a bad thing, sweetheart?”
“I'm… not used to this, I don't… I haven't done much of this. You never even asked me out!” You laughed. The good humor vanished as you continued. “I can't lose this job. I need it, I like it. If we do… What will even happen to me?” You cursed your own inability to talk about this, all your eloquence going to the drain when you needed to speak of something other than History. In those moments, you always felt like mimicking some speech taught to you long ago, as if talking about your own feelings was an unattainable device. 
Yet Homelander found it amusing. Apparently he'd gotten you all wrong, or at least parts of it. For all your bravado in speaking to him, in challenging him—in your fearlessness and spunk—you were inexperienced. Innocent. Shy. Wasn't that his fucking lucky day. 
“So the baby wants me to take her on a date first, that it?”
“I didn't say that.” You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “And don’t call me baby.”
“Also I boy-scout promise not to fire you if you are a bad lay, but I doubt that, baby.”
“Oh, shut up,” you said, though there was no bite to it, only a timid smile on your face. “Okay, alright. This weekend?” 
“Friday. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Wear something nice for me.”
Before leaving, he kissed you deeply, hands nearly shaking with yearning. He wanted to take it all back and drag you to his bed, absconding with you for a day or two. But he’d waited this long and he could wait a bit longer—he’d savor every second and make it worth it.
As you walked down the stairs to your apartment you sighed, drunk in the haze of disbelief; there was no way you could run now. It’s clear you have a problem. What you should wish for isn’t what you want.
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soft-pine · 5 months ago
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when i think about this scene from 15.15 it makes me want to chew glass and tear up the walls in rage.
AMARA: I wanted two things for you, Dean. I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person, that the myth you'd held onto for so long of a better life, a life where she lived, was just that, a myth. I wanted you to see that the real, complicated Mary was better than your childhood dream because she was real. That now is always better than then. That you could finally start to accept your life.
for the record i want to say i am a known amara-hater. don't like the non-con shit. don't like that she's doing what so many beings in spn do and narrativizing dean's life back at him while judging him because she drew the wrong conclusions. but i think fandom does have a tendency to take those claims at face value because that is easier than combing back through to check if it's correct or not. (see for example, rachel saying dean only calls cas when he needs him in 6.18. narrativizing, incorrectly. but i digress)
so let's talk about mary. because, through the seething rage, i think two main things about this claim. 1. dean does not have this mythos around mary and 2. mary has arguably more of that mythos around dean.
first off, we'll tackle the claim that it's a myth that if mary hadn't died, dean wouldn't have a better life. because that is absolute, utter, dogshit. OF COURSE HE'D HAVE A BETTER LIFE. while i will always maintain that clearly mary and john were far from stable before she died, her death was what speared john forward into hunting, into turning his kids into soldiers, into neglect and parentifying, and every other god forsaken thing he did. "a better life, a life where she lived, was just that, a myth" - girl, i DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE DIVINE, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
like please don't come here acting like dean grieving the future he could have had that didn't include him taking care of his younger brother alone in motel rooms for days while maybe actually being left as bait for the Kid-Eater is a character flaw on his part that he needs to learn better from.
next, amara claims dean needs to see the "real, complicated Mary."
but hasn't he? dean goes back in time and meets his mom in 4.03 and 5.13. and both times he treats her both as a competent hunter and a colleague. like to be clear, before that, i dont think he was wrong to be relying on a four-year-old's memory of what his mom was like because that's literally all he had access to. but dean actually did meet and interact with the whole, complex woman who was his mother long before amara decided to teach him a lesson with her as the homework. in both 4.03 and 5.13, dean tries to give mary advice to save her life but he doesn't belittle her experience hunting or her desire to leave and life a normal life. i don't know what more you want from him in terms of interacting with his mom as a whole, real, complex person?
this also applies wholly and completely to his interactions with her when she returns in s12. he apologizes for being nervous for her safety (AFTER SHE WAS JUST RESSURECTED) at first. mary says she wants to hunt, dean gets on board. mary says she needs space, dean asks clarifying questions to best support her request. he gets mad at her not for being who she is or needing what she needs but for lying to him for months and working with people who tortured him and sam.
in fact, s12 is what i would point to to indicate how well dean articulates and navigates the nuance of being hurt by someone's actions while still understanding and empathizing with why they did it and forgiving them. for example, he says this in 12.04
DEAN: This whole mom thing, it's... I mean, we get her back, and then she leaves. I hate it, but I get it. I do. I guess I'm just...still working through some of that crap. I'll try to be less of a dick about it.
[you're not a dick, dean, ilu]
in fact, dean's much maligned "how 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" isn't even about dean wanting anything particularly maternal from mary. it's about him not wanting her to ditch them to hunt alone and/or with the aforementioned torturers.
so circling back to amara's speech about expectations and myths. cause while her words do not apply to dean. amara's speech does remind me of something that happens upon mary's return in s12. these lines from 12.03:
DEAN: Mom, it's okay. All right? You're home now. MARY: No. I'm not. I miss John. I miss my boys. SAM: We're right here, mom. MARY: I know. In my head. But I'm still mourning them as I knew them. My baby Sam. My little boy Dean. Just feels like yesterday, we were together in heaven, and now...I'm her, and John is gone, and they're gone. And every moment I spend with you reminds me every moment I lost with them.
of course she has every right to grieve the time she lost with her kids. but someone in this room is having trouble really looking at the people in front of them because of their idealized memory of who they were compared to are and It Is Not Dean.
and i just think about dean's speech in 12.22. cause it wasn't dean that needed to see the real mary. it was mary, tucked away in her dream world where sam is a baby and dean is a little elementary schooler who likes pie and has never held a gun, who needed to see the real dean.
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slasherscream · 1 year ago
Text
Wash Day
pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader
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"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.
Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."
You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."
"Brat." You laugh.
How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.
"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)
"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.
Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.
"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.
"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.
"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.
"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.
"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.
You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.
"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"
"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"
"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.
"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.
"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.
"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"
"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.
"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.
"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.
"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."
The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.
"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.
Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.
"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."
"I'm looking at them."
"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"
"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"
"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"
Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"
"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."
Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"
"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.
But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.
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"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.
"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.
"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.
"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.
"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.
"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.
"My hair grew!"
"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.
"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."
"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.
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"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.
"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"
"Got it."
Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.
"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.
"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.
You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.
"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.
You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"
"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.
She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."
"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.
"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.
"Who says it will take an hour?"
"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.
You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."
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"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.
"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.
Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."
You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.
It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.
Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."
Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.
"What's so funny?"
"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.
"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.
"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."
He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.
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"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.
"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."
Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.
"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.
"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.
"Is the city gonna let her?"
"No."
"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.
"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.
A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.
"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.
"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"
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"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.
You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.
("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"
"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."
So that had decided that.)
"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"
"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.
They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.
"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.
You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"
"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.
"The back of my head? The head on my body?"
"Should I start over?"
"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"
"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."
"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."
"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"
"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.
"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.
"I said they were good!" You protest.
"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.
You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.
"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.
You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.
He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.
"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.
"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.
"Speak for yourself."
"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."
"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"
"Pussy?"
"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"
"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.
"No."
"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.
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"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.
"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.
"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.
As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.
Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.
"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.
"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"
"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.
"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."
Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.
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A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo
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Note
Hi I’ve been thinking about this request for poly!plastics for a while now. So basically everyone knows that Regina gets angry and when she does people just don’t part ways with her. However, y/n is worse especially when she doesn’t get her full sleep which she didn’t get bc Gretchen and Karen were up and loud. (Y/n would never fault them bc she just loves them so much and their quirks). So throughout the school day, everyone has been getting on Y/n nerves like making comments about her girls etc. at lunch time, cady decided to make a “joke” about Karen being dumb, Regina being a bitch, etc and Y/n just explodes. Maybe heavy make out sess or smut after to calm Y/n down.
Slow Boil
|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader
(I myself am poly)
|| Warnings: swearing, reader almost punches Cady, reader has an attitude, little make out session at the end but nothing overly detailed or anything
|| Summary: reader doesn't get enough sleep, the next day people get on her nerves and it pushes her to a boiling point where she snaps at Cady for insulting her girls.
Requests open!
~~~
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To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. You barely got any sleep the night before with Gretchen and Karen being up all night giggling and gossiping. How Regina slept through them... you didn't know, but God you were envious of her sleeping abilities. Though you would never blame or get mad at Gretchen and Karen. You would however be frustrated at yourself for not falling asleep sooner.
The day seemed to drag on. As if seconds were really minutes and minutes were hours. Classes taking too long to complete. In Health & Fitness you just gave up and fell asleep, head rested on your desk with one arm folded around it and other stretched out in front of you. Cady glanced at you and raised an eyebrow.
The bell woke you from your sleep and you groaned, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. At least it was lunch. You'd get to see your girlfriends.
"Sleeping beauty rises." Mr. Carr comments, getting a few laughs from some kids in the back. You roll your eyes at him.
"I bet you thought that was clever. Do everyone a favour and keep your damn puns to yourself." Mr. Carr seemed taken aback by your attitude, usually you didn't have one. You were known for being kind and laid back. Not snappy and agitated. For that reason, he decides to let it go. Not without giving you a small warning lecture first. It certainly didn't make your mood any better.
You left the class, a sharp (sleep filled) glare glossing over your eyes as you walk through the halls. Some conversations catching your attention, people seemed to be talking about your girlfriends a lot lately. The things they were saying weren't always positive and that just did nothing to improve your mood. One voice in particular catches your attention. Cady.
You snapped your head in her direction, seeing her chatting with those art freaks Janis and Damien.
"Honestly, Karen's gotta be the dumbest person I've ever met. When I went to Regina's house Regina told Karen she would help her with her eyebrows and Karen asked if she could still have two." Cady talked, Damien and Janis laughed. You could feel your blood boiling," Speaking of Regina, don't even get me started on her. She is such a bi-"
"The next word out of your mouth better fucking be "bi icon" or I swear to every God that's listening..!" You yelled, taking a step towards Cady who froze in place. Damien and Janis exchanged a look.
"Y-Y/N, I didn't think-" You cut Cady off.
"Clearly! What the hell, Cady?! They've been nothing but nice- well, to your face- and this how you repay them?" You were livid. The news about you fighting with Cady quickly spread throughout the school, eventually reaching your girlfriends who sprang into action. Hoping to stop things before it escalated.
Regina got there first and put herself between you and Cady right as you had been about to strike. You pause the moment you see Regina and your arm falls to your side. Gretchen and Karen link their arms around yours and keep you back while Regina sighs.
"Baby, take a breath for me." Regina says, you ignore her and look at Cady. She snaps her fingers in your face," Don't look at her. Look at me."
You listen. Reluctantly.
"Breathe." Regina urges, hand resting on your shoulder. When that doesn't work she grabs you by your wrist and pulls you to the bathroom, Gretchen and Karen quickly following behind.
Once there, they all turn and face you.
"What was all that about?" Gretchen asks.
"Cady was being a total bitch." You mutter, arms folded across your chest.
"You mean like Cady Heron?" Karen looks confused.
"No, KD Mac and Cheese." You snap, then realize who you just snapped at. Regina narrows her eyes at you. Karen frowned and you relaxed your shoulders.
"I'm sorry... I just- didn't get any sleep last night and my patience has been pushed to the edge today because of it..." You admit in a mumble, hand covering your face as you tilted your head down. You felt bad.
Gretchen took a step towards you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she moves her hand away from your face. Giving you a deep, soft kiss that you immediately melt into. Hands resting gently around Gretchen to pull her closer. You could feel as your body finally relaxed. Whatever anger you had being washed away.
She broke the kiss and rested her hand to your cheek," Better?"
"I could maybe use a couple more kisses..." You smile sheepishly, looking over at Regina and Karen. Your girlfriends laugh softly and the tension in the room seems to fade.
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