#anyway those all would be long enough into dating that they are serious about each other and that it'd be known that Vil is dating
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OOOOOO CAN I ASK HOW WOULD THE N2 SQUAD REACT TO EACH OF THEM DYING?
What have you unleashed?
(WARNING: Angst, allusions to death, all that fun stuff. Nothing graphic tho, don't worry)
Jamil
He shouldn’t be surprised.
Well… He isn't surprised. Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things. Not for more than a few months, anyway.
Every once in a while, life takes pity on him and throws some nice, agreeable news his way. Just enough so that he lets his guard down. Just enough so that he allows himself to think maybe things will get better. Just enough so that he can pretend he isn't chained to a fate he will never escape.
A letter to NRC, a plan that goes a little too well, a couple of upperclassmen who seem to genuinely love him for who he is and not who he pretends to be.
So of course it doesn't last. Life gives and life takes.
Kalim follows, Octavinelle gets involved, Leona and Vil-
Well…
He isn't surprised.
Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things.
Vil
They look at him like they expect something from him. Horror, anger, ugly tears maybe. Just a reaction. Anything. Anything at all.
Vil doesn't give them that. Doesn't give them an opportunity to pity him. Doesn't give them food for gossip. Doesn't give them any material to make this topic last for any longer than it has to.
He knows how it works. Someone snaps a pic of him at his lowest, someone records his voice breaking during an interview, someone catches his lips tremble for but a second, and everybody will start talking about it again. And again. And again. For as long as there is a reaction from him. For as long as the topic attracts views.
Suffering brings more views than success.
So Vil doesn't react. Doesn't say a thing. Doesn't acknowledge the topic.
Better to be a cold asshole for a few weeks than to hear about it for years.
And in the darkness of his own room, where there is no camera, no eyes, and no ears to witness his grief-
Vil cries himself to sleep.
Leona
It’s just sand.
Only sand.
For miles and miles, further than the eye can see, nothing but sand.
Ruggie had the clever foresight to send all of Savanaclaw packing when Leona got the news. They would be sand too otherwise.
Who cares.
Who fucking cares.
He could turn the whole world to sand and it wouldn't be enough.
He might as well turn his own heart into sand.
It would hurt less.
#are you a masochist Anon?#or do you want others to suffer lol?#those are short but I think they convey enough#I have a lot of thoughts for Vil's reaction tho#like I imagine Jamil would be defeated and lose all warmth#and I imagine Leona would either go full depression or destructive anger#but VIL-#can you imagine how shitty it must be to have everybody's gaze on you when you're trying to mourn?#how that'd be the only topic you would find online about yourself for weeks?#we all know Vil is obsessed with how he's perceived by others and he'd definitely check his own name just as much as Neige's popularity#so Vil looks up his name and sees those fucking news again and again and again#and it just opens his wounds again and again and again#and his only way out is to pretend he doesn't care#and so he keeps everything to himself#uses his acting talent to pretend he isn't as affected as he is#and only when he is alone does he let himself break down#anyway those all would be long enough into dating that they are serious about each other and that it'd be known that Vil is dating#but not long enough for them to have made their own life with this relationship#just a tease from life#because Jamil is a tragedy and a half and I had to play with that :3#twisted wonderland#n2 squad#leojami#leovil#javil#ask me anything#jamil viper#leona kingscholar#vil schoenheit#twst fic
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DCXDP fanfic idea: You ARE the Father.
Clark Kent gets a call from his old high school situationship. Really, he liked her well enough, but both had agreed they did not want to stay stuck in Smallville forever.
Clark wanted to go to the big city for journalism, and Maddie wanted to go into the sciences - she was unsure if she wanted to do organic chemistry or engineering. His parents supported his dream, Maddie's....not so much.
While she did come from a family of intelligent women, the Paynes believed they should stay on the family farm to support the family. They could not understand why Maddie wanted to be strong and independent woman if all that would bring her was dying alone.
According to them, no man wanted a disobent wife. She argued too much with men and often wouldn't back down from her stance.
Apparently, that made her "unlady" like.
Clark never saw it. Personally, he thought women with backbone, who wouldn't take anyone shit, was insanely attractive. That's why he had approached her at the local science fair where she was steaming by her impressive solar energy powered homemade phone.
Her mother had just finished reminding her that her first place in a small high school fair was nothing to be proud of. It was, after all, only Smallville, and really, there wasn't much competition anyway.
Clark told her that she was likely the smartest person in their entire state and he was in awe by her. Maddie kissed him behind the gym the science fair was being held.
Her family forbade her from dating, which made the kiss somehow more exciting.
They met up regularly to sneak kisses or lend a sympathetic ear. Around their last year of high school, they went a little further then kisses, and really the Kent Barn is not the most comfortable place but it was hidden well enough her family wouldn't know what she was up to and Ma wouldn't question him spending the night there.
All the years of sleeping near the cows to keep them company, since he worried they were lonely, as a child paid off. Despite the numerous times they put Kent barn to work, both knew it was nothing serious.
Maddie needed a break from her family. Clark was more than happy to be her stress relief. He did worry a aweful lot about his powers and the fact he was an alien, so he needed some stress relieving of his own around those years too.
Maddie applied secretly to a big college on the Wayne Scholarship states away, and Clark planned on going to Metropolis as soon as possible for the open intership at the Daily Planet.
They were friends with benefits, but the day graduation came around, they never spoke to each other again. Neither were bitter. They had both known what would be the ending long before it arrived. It would have never worked between them.
Clark wasn't sure what Maddie had wanted after all these years, but being presented a teenage girl- the splitting image of Maddie at that age- who was flouting five feet off the ground was not one of them.
"Jazz, meet Clark Kent, you biological father" Maddie Fenton, for she was married now to the man who had raised Jazz like his own. "Clark, this is Jasmine Fenton...you're daughter"
The man of Steel felt like he's was going to faint.
Or.......
Maddie met Jack in her first semester of college. They get alone really well, and she finds herself with a pregnancy scare before she knows what happened. Sometime between the protrype portal and Jack treating her like an equal, she had found her walls coming down long enough to have a little fun.
The worst part is she is unsure of who the father is, the loveable goof she can see herself spending her life with or the kind gentle famer boy she left behind. It's only two months apart, but it was close enough it could go either way.
She tells Jack the truth, who declares that he doesn't care and gets down on one knee right there and then. Maddie agrees to marry him over the choked tears, blooming happiness and love so strong she feels dizzy from it.
A few months later, she gives birth to her Jazz, and two years later, she has Danny. The Fentons finish school, set up Fenton Works, and raise their family. She never considers telling Clark or getting Jazz tested.
She's Jack Fenton's daughter. That's all there is to it.
Until Jazz one day starts showing signs that Jack is not her father. How does Maddie know? Simple, she recognized the man flying around calling himself Superman, and after hearing of his home planet, and all the little things Clark had been too clumsy to properly cover up back in the day, it clicks.
Her daughter is half Kryptonian and her powers were awakening. Did all Kryptonians unlock thier abilities at the teenage age? Was it a puberty thing for thier kind?
Maddie didn't know, but she couldn't afford to let her daighter go in blind. Metas had tough lives. Who knows what being part alien could do. So she picked up the phone and dialed the man who may have the answers.
Meanwhile, Danny and Jazz are desperately trying to hide the fact that Jazz may have gotten some ghost abilities due to exposure from Phantom's Ghostly Wail and have no idea it's being confused for Kryptonian blood. They were careless in training, and now, similar to that whole fiasco with Spetra and her hospital, Jazz was unable to control her temporary abilities.
Jack is just happy to be there and is unaware of any of his family members' delimas.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#You ARE the Father#Part 1#Misunderstandings#Clark and Maddie were a situationship#Jazz is being confused for Kryptonian#Is she really his daughter? who knows#Jack Fenton is a good dad
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a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!
warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.
summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!
it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do.
satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself.
he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen.
he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?
that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure?
this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.
your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand.
“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this.
“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?”
you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means.
but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders.
“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?”
“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?”
“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod.
“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings.
he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?”
you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago.
“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair.
“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason.
he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body.
“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men.
“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion.
“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.”
you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed.
“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway.
no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.”
“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start.
“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real.
“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.”
you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”
“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.”
your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?”
“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but.
but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you.
you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention.
though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.
his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams.
“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously.
“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it.
in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his.
“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again?
your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how.
you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command.
“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it.
“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue.
your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”
“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname.
“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy.
“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight.
“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.”
your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious.
you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife.
#kishibyesredditcollab#dark content#x female reader#gojo x reader#kyleewritesjjk#jjk x reader#gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC
These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort
Curly (Pre-Crash)
He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.
He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.
After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.
Curly (Post-Crash)
He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.
He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.
Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.
Daisuke
At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.
“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.
Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.
Anya
It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.
She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!
There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.
Swansea
Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.
f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.
That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.
Jimmy
Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.
The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.
After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.
#mouthwashing x reader#daisuke mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#swansea mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing#mouthwashing headcanon#headcanons
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hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons
spider-punk x reader this is not a drill
long as hell I’m so sorry
a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)
I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!
most people didn’t notice you at first.
you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.
I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?
he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh
and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.
he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol
after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more
you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???
(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)
speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt
and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-
one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you
you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital
“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation
spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-
“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask
you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries
you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds
you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.
“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”
he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????
:O
ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???
I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries
but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping
he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something
and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him
I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else
but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!
he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-
but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!
doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together
like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”
but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave
either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too
genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up
he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.
but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common
he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you
pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)
he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc
overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot
he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((
I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)
#not proofread#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#spider punk#spider punk x reader#across the spiderverse#marvel#hobie brown x you
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You guys really got me to one thousand likes in less than two days.
I don't even know what's happening but it's pulling me out of a really awful writer's block.
I have more ideas than I know what to do with so expect a good bit of content in the future.
You're all incredible 💗 ❤️
Have some Shanks headcanons, ranging from fluffy to spicy. As a treat.
I was a little iffy about Live Action Shanks at first, since he was literally my first manga/anime crush ever. But he grew on me more with every scene.
Especially that final scene where he saw Luffy's wanted poster. I mean....
Lookit that smile 🥹
So anyway.
LA!Shanks X Fem!Reader
Shanks A — Z
A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)
Holding you close and telling you how much he adores you.
He's going to give you anything you want. Anything.
"Do you need anything, sweetheart? I've got you."
You want a bath, he's going to run it for you, carry you there once it's ready, and help you bathe.
Food or a drink, you just lay down, he's got it.
Shanks is completely and utterly devoted to making you feel like a goddess after sex.
Showering you with soft, tender kisses and caresses and endless praise, rubbing his fingers between your wet folds to prolong your pleasure as long as possible.
If it seems like he's trying to coax you into another round, he probably is. Your're going to have to outright tell him you're if spent, because he can't get enough of you.
B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)
You can expect it nightly. You're his princess and he's going to pamper you.
He might only have one hand, but dear gods those fingers are magic.
He's not asking anything in return, but if you're offering then he isn't going to turn you down.
Closing his eyes and groaning as your fingers work through the tension in his muscles.
"Oh, you're too good for me, love."
C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)
If you're within arm's reach, then Shanks has his arm around you.
His main mode of affection is physical.
Pulling you you to his side, resting his head over yours, tugging you down onto his lap.
He wants you close, as much and as often as you're willing to be, and he does't give a damn who sees.
D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)
Not really big on dancing, but if you want to he isn’t going to turn you down.
He'll take any excuse he can get to hold you close.
Tucking your hair behind your ear so he can rest his temple against yours.
His arm curled loosely around your back.
E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)
He would literally move mountains for you if he could.
You tell him your dreams, well now they're his dreams too.
Anything you accomplish, whether alone or with his help, warrants the most lavish of celebrations.
He isn’t particularly materialistic, but what his princess wants, she gets, no questions asked.
"If you wanted the moon, I would make this ship fly so you could stake your claim."
F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)
All puppy-dog eyes and pouts.
Shanks makes it impossible to stay mad at him for any reasonable length of time. He's just too damned adorable.
Wrapping an arm around you and laying his head on your shoulder, refusing to let you go until you listen.
Even if it's a serious argument, the look of utter heartbreak on his face makes you cave every time.
"Come on, sweetheart. Just name it, I'll do anything."
He isn’t too proud to apologize—he knows when he's in the wrong, and he'll do anything in his power to make it up to you.
G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)
If Shanks is the one doing the planning, you can expect to end up one of two places.
You might be at the nearest tavern, going shot for shot on rum until you can't see straight, singing sea shanties into the dark hours of morning.
Or laid out on a secluded stretch of beach in the moonlight, sharing a bottle or two, wrapped up in each others' arms and lips and forgetting the passage of time entirely.
He's happy doing anything that means he gets to spend time with you, though, so he's fine with going out of his element if you have something else in mind.
H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)
Don't. Please. Just don't. He'll be inconsolable.
He'll cry. Don't make Shanks cry. That's just heartless.
He won't show it in front of his crew. He'll keep up his usual carefree and aloof facade.
But once he's alone, he'll be in complete shambles.
He'll probably drink himself senseless.
He loves hard, with every fabric of his being, and losing you would utterly destroy him.
I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)
Literally all the time.
Shanks always kisses you like no one's watching, pulling you flush against him and delving his tongue between your lips and squeezing your rear.
In his eyes, there's no wrong time to show how much he treasures you. How much he wants you.
His ship could be under fire by a full Marine armada and he would still pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss if the mood struck.
In fact he'd probably do it just to show the Marines how completely unbothered he is.
J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)
If Shanks isn't cracking some stupid joke, you're worried something is wrong.
He loves making people laugh, loves seeing people laughing and enjoying life.
And making *you* laugh? That gives him life.
He's gone far as to pull your panties on while you're alone together in the captain's cabin and imitate you being dramatic about something until you're begging him to stop before you choke to death on your own giggles.
K — Kissing (How good? How often?)
If you're within eyeshot, he *has* to kiss you.
He knows that his crew will roll their eyes and tease him about it, but he doesn't care. Your lips are like a drug and he simply can't get enough.
His kisses tend to be light and plauful.
Lightly biting and pulling at your bottom lip.
Flicking his tongue across lips to coax yours out.
Letting his tongue swirl slowly around yours before pulling back and leaving you craving more.
Pulling you into his lap when he deepens the kiss.
Lifting his hand to flip off anyone with the audacity to tell you two to get a room.
"Don't pay them any mind, princess. They're just a bunch of jealous pricks."
L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)
He has to be against you in bed.
If you roll away in your sleep, he will subconsciously shift closer to you.
Spooning is definitely his favorite—your back and your ass pressed up against him, his arm draped over your waist so he can caress your stomach or lay his palm over one of your soft breasts...absolute *heaven*.
M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)
Shanks is good with kids, being that he's practically an overgrown kid himself half the time.
All the same, he just...isn’t sure.
He loves you to death. Having a family with you would be a dream come true.
But if he had to leave his ship, his crew behind? He just isn’t sure he could do that.
Because he loves them to death, too.
N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)
Shanks posseses the positively deadly combination of being unnecessarily charming and handsome, and incredibly aware of it.
Thus, his confidence is through the roof.
He knows he doesn't need anything more than a cheeky grin and a soft carress or two to get you in bed.
That being said, he'll spend all day subtly teasing you to the end of your sanity to make sure you want him as much as it's possible to want another person.
O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)
Absolutely a giver. He's incredible at it and he knows it.
And he's a terrible, terrible tease about it.
Taking you to the edge, making your thighs tremble...and then pulling away to brush his lips to your thighs and give you a cheeky grin.
"Oh, not yet, love. I love hearing you beg for it."
Keeping you on the edge until you're begging to come in complete and utter desperation before he finally lets you.
And then he isn't going to stop until you're begging him to.
He loves recieving just as much.
Really loves it when you pull him down an empty alley and get on your knees.Curling his fingers in your hair, groaning quietly and praising you endlessly.
His breath shaking as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and fuck your throat, wanting to enjoy the slow build-up.
"That's it, sweetheart. Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck my cock."
P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)
Taking things too seriously. He's always joking around and having a good time, and all he wants is for you to do the same.
The silent treatment. It drives him absolutely insane. Just talk to him if there's something wrong, he wants to fix it.
Flirting with other men to make him jealous. Just don't. It's the one thing that truly gets under his skin, that could actually get him honestly angry with you.
Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)
Gives you your distance if you need it, but he does so begrudgingly.
He knows life is short—he got his arm bit off by a giant sea monster, for gods' sake—and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you.
Whether you're out having fun, fighting alongside each other, or curled up together in a hammock sharing a bottle of rum and enjoying a lazy afternoon.
He loves being with you, and he'll take any excuse he can get.
R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)
Shanks's version of romance isn't fancy dinners and extravagant date nights.
It's lying on a beach watching the sunset with you.
Pushing you into the water and diving in after you, kissing you while you're both sopping wet.
Making love under a full moon.
Telling you every opportunity he gets how much he adores you.
"You know you're my greatest treasure, don't you, sweetheart?"
It's hard not to know when he tells you at least three times a day.
But the way he looks into your eyes when he says it still manages to melt your heart every time.
S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)
Shanks isn't really much for materialism or consumerism.
You'll have to tell him if there's something you want, and he's not going to have any oroblem with getting it for you.
Every so often, something is going to catch his eye at some market in a port town.
Something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you'll like.
And he'll buy it without hesitation and give it to you with a big, goofy grin the second he sees you.
It's not all the time, but it makes it that much more special when it does happen.
T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)
He absolutely trusts you—that's how love is supposed to work.
But he can get a little jealous.
You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself and jokes about it, but he does get a little insecure about missing an entire limb.
This can lead to him getting a little defensive and possessive if other men approach you—he's going to make sure it's known that you're his lover, and he'll always fight for you.
U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)
Loose-fitting boxers are more comfortable.
He doesn't care what kind of underwear you wear, as long as it comes off easily.
And if you whisper in his ear that you're *not* wearing any?
You'd best buckle up, because he's putting you over his shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest private, or even semi-private location he can find to take advantage of this information.
V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)
He is one hundred percent an open book with you.
You know everything about him. His life, his secrets, his aspirations.
He doesn't want anything to ever come up that could frighten you off, so he lays everything on the table surprisingly quickly.
W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)
He would much rather cook, preferably with you. He's not the best at it, but he's not awful either, given that he's had to be self-sufficient for a good bit of his life.
And if you're good at it, he's not to proud to take advice.
Any time spent with you is a wonderful time to him.
If you go out, it's probably going to be street food or tavern fare—fancy restaurants aren't his forte, and he's frankly not sure he would even have anything appropriate to wear.
X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)
Hopefully you like being teased literally to the edge of sanity.
Major kink for edging you, making you beg for it.
And dear sweet fuck, is he good at it.
Whispering all the things he's going to do to you throughout the course of the day.
Pulling you down an alley or into a broom closet, pinning you to the wall and teasing you through your panties, stopping just short of letting you cum.
Subtle glances and touches.
He *loves* seeing you writhing in his bed, desperate for his touch while he kisses your neck, just trailing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.
Holding you down by your hips so you can't even grind against him.
"Such an eager little thing. Just be patient, princess. You're going to get what you want."
Kissing down your breasts, taking time to stop and tease your nipples.
Pushing your thighs apart with his knees so he can circle a finger around your entrance, chuckling a little at your moans and whimpers before finally pushing it in.
Sitting up on his knees to watch you arch your hips, rubbing against your g-spot just long enough to get you gasping.
Pulling his finger back out and slowly circling it around your clit instead, before shifting back between your thighs and giving the sensitive bud a few teasing licks, watching you shiver in anticipation.
Keeping it slow and sensual, enjoying every second of being between your thighs, building your pleasure at a slow and steady pace that drives you crazy.
Holding onto your hip keep you from grinding against his tongue.
Pulling back the second you crest toward orgasm, chuckling at your whimpering and begging as he trails his lips across your inner thigh.
"You're just so adorable when you're desperate for it."
Keeping it going for what feels like hours, before finally tugging you in close and not relenting until you're trembling and falling apart beneath him.
Feeling you throbbing under his tongue and tighten up around his fingers is like a high for him.
Not stopping until your body goes limp and the only sounds you can make are a few little whimpers.
Soft, tender kisses amd whispered praises at your neck and lips and shoulders, his fingers combing through your hair, letting you recover for just a minute, even though he's aching for you.
Grinding his cock against your wet folds a few times before sliding slowly into you, groaning quietly in your ear.
"Oh, fuck, you're tight, love..."
Absolutely savors every second of being inside you, moving in long slow strokes, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you.
If you ask for it harder, he's going to give it to you—he's done with teasing you now. This is about you now, about what his princess wants.
And if you want it rough, then you're coming out of it with your neck and chest half-covered in hickies, and he's not stopping until he's sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning.
Holding back just long enough so you can climax at the same time, grunting out a quiet swear and pulling your hips flush against his to come deep inside you.
Slow, deep kisses while you both catch your breath and come down.
But don't be surprised if he's gearing up for another round soon. He really can never get enough of you.
Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)
It depends. If it's purely lust based, he's not going to pursue it very long and just move on.
If the feelings run deeper, though, he's absolutely shameless about it.
Relentless flirting and corny pick-up lines.
"Pardon me miss—do you have a map? It seems I've gotten lost in your eyes and I can’t find my way out."
Will absolutely get on his knees and beg you to give him a chance if he has to.
Puppy dog eyes in full effect.
It's pretty much pointless trying to resist.
Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)
A bottle of rum, a hammock stretched between a couple palm trees on some remote beach only he knows about, and his arm curled around you while you lie back against his chest.
Kissing your temple and playing with your hair.
He's always more relaxed when he has you with him.
#shanks one piece#opla#shanks x reader#smut#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#one piece headcanons#shanks opla#one piece live action#fluff
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clarisse x gn!child of nemesis!reader where the reader keeps a black book of everyone who's pissed them off and why and clarisse gets curious. love your work! :)
The Journal
|| Clarisse La Rue x genderneutral!nemesis!reader
|| Warnings; swearing, Clarisse and reader have a small argument, Clarisse invading reader's privacy, short drabble
|| Summary; when Clarisse comes looking for reader at their cabin, what she didn't expect to find was a black leather journal coated in red scribbles. Curiosity gets the better of her.
Requests open!
Started; october 9th
Finished; october 9th
~~~
Clarisse and you have been dating for some time now. The two of you were a pretty intense combo, beyond loyal to each other but almost always fighting about something. Most of the time it's just for fun, though. None of your arguments are really serious. You just like keeping each other on your toes. With you being a child of nemesis and Clarisse a daughter of Ares, it's no wonder things were intense. Both of you had such intense Godly parents.
Despite all that, today was a rather calm afternoon. Clarisse had just come into the Nemesis Cabin to look for you when instead she found a black leather journal on your bed. Scrawled on the front in red was a bunch of crossing lines and scribbles which peaked her curiosity.
She walked over and picked it up, right away she noticed that there was just something intense about the book before she even opened it. When she did open it, she immediately realized why that was. Her eyes widening slightly as she reads through the text. The book was full of names of people who had clearly pissed you off, you even stated why. Most having a massive paragraph or two. The more she looked through, the more she noticed that some names were even repeated. An example being Drew, the daughter of Aphrodite. She was in there more than three times. Damn, you and her really didn't get along.
Clarisse sat herself down on the edge of your bed, looking through the book. At one point she even found her own name, though the reason you had was fair enough. It was after one your more intense arguments with her. She couldn't necessarily fault you for that.
The daughter of Ares took her sweet time reading through it, enjoying everything about it and making mental notes of those who'd wronged you. She knew you had probably already gotten back at most of them by now, but she was still going to do some stuff herself. She was your girlfriend, after all. Plus, she needed to start some fights anyways. She was getting bored.
She found herself wondering if you'd always kept books like this and if you had anymore laying around. This one specifically only went back a few months, so it was relatively new but there were still lots of pages filled regardless. You seemed to have a lot of enemies, which she thought was kinda cool. You definitely weren't afraid to speak your mind.
"Clarisse?"
The sound of your voice got her attention, her head snapping away from the book to look at you with wide eyes. Then glance at the book in her hands before looking to you again.
"Y/N..." She muttered and cursed, setting the book aside," hey."
You folded your arms across her chest as you stood in the cabin doorway," 'hey'? Really? Were you going through my shit?"
She immediately shook her head, trying to defend herself from what you just saw." No, I swear I was just coming in to find you then saw the book laying there so I got curious."
You rolled your eyes and walked over, picking the book up." How much did you read?"
"Enough to know that a lot of people pissed you off, including me." Clarisse admitted, you were the one person she could never bring herself to lie to," ...could I help plan your revenge?" She asked, hoping that maybe if she showed interest you would forgive her.
And you did think about it. For a long moment. You knew you couldn't stay mad at her forever, no matter how badly you wanted to some days." Fine..."
"Fuck yes." She couldn't help but grin. This would be fun.
#fanfic#x reader#canon x reader#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue x genderfluid reader#gender neutral reader#clarisse la rue x reader#percy pjo#percy series#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#clarisse la rue
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When Gojo asks why we won’t just be with him we tell him that he isn’t worth it 😔🫰
He isn’t worth the body or the history… I know a lot of people like to brag about having exes and body’s but that shit is so embarrassing to me 😭 like I feel like a whore because a boy kissed me in like middle school and he was a BOY. Boys are so gross omg-anyway-
Like why would I date you if we’re gonna break up? Get out of my face bro 😔
"....Is that what you became friends with me for? I'm not interested in dating you, Gojo."
Gojo never knew you were the type to reject people like him. He was everything you wanted in a man and he knew it. Money, extroverted, very fine, strong, tall, sexy, intelligent, all of the above. So....why did you say no to his confession? I repeat, HE CONFESSED and you rejected HIM. He couldn't help but accidentally voice his thoughts.
He leans back in surprised and scrunches his eyebrows at your response. "What?" You raise your eyebrows at his answer and continued eating the food he bought you at this expensive cafe that you now loved. ".....What? Never been rejected before?" You laughed at his response and kept eating. He wasn't gonna pressure you into dog shit, he could kiss ass. You did like his qualities. But with how the dating pool is currently, you wouldn't be surprised if he had three bitches lighting his phone up currently. You had zero hope in all men unless they don't use their phones at all and instead told you the worst jokes on planet in hopes of swooning you.
You would rather not date him. He was nice eye candy though. He gains his composure back and leans on the table. "Yeah, I have been, but I felt like we were both interested in each other, you know...?" You nod, understanding what he meant. "Yeah....sorry if it seemed like I was leading you on." He shakes his head, still incredibly butt hurt inside. "No, it's not your fault."
Why did you say no? He wants to ask desperately. Too many questions filled his mind at the possibilities. Were you lesbian and he was too stupid to realize? Was he not your type at all whatsoever? Was he too stuck up like Suguru said? He doesn't know. "Is it okay if I ask what made you say no?"
You shrug and look up in thought. "Well, it's not you, it's just....too much is happening right now. And I mean with everyone. Too many people are love-bombing each other, there's no genuine connection ever, then there's 'situationships', and a looot of people my age don't have patience for long-term relationships and it's just....i feel like- ugh i guess I'll say it. But I feel like you're the perfect person to have all of those qualities. You're very attractive, Satoru, so....I don't know if I'm ready to trust you enough not to put those labels on your head. It's dumb, but yeah. And I do too much with relationships. I put too much time and energy into the person I'm with, and i hate doing that knowing that there are so many people who've just neglected my needs in return. Basically, I love trauma."
Satoru watched you the entire time you spoke, so you found it hard to continue speaking, but you managed to push through. "Fuck them." You roll your eyes and he takes one of your fries, eating them. "I'm serious. I can give you everything you want and need y/n. I wouldn't ask you out if I didn't have a major attraction and connection to you."
You didn't look impressed, but he was determined. "I agree with you. All of the girls I tried to date just wanted me for sex. I know you would treat me better than that. And I would be willing to give you the love and respect you deserve. I get....I don't want to say this, but I get really happy at the thought of being able to provide for you. All I want is you. And it's okay if you don't want me now."
He takes a piece of your cake and eats it without your permission. "I'm willing to wait."
I'm sorry I took forever with this omg. This is the start of many. I might do like 6 more tomorrow. I need sleep.
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The Light in My Darkness
damon salvatore x gn!reader | requested
summary: after your boyfriend's death, you fell back into old habits. now that he's back, you're having trouble kicking them again.
tags: angst, hurt / comfort, depression, s3lf h4rm, kisses
word count: 1.7k
a/n: i typically don't write for damon, however i feel comfortable writing this subject matter and i'm getting better with understanding his character. honestly, too, i rewatched s7 and i'm starting to love him even more. (i just love the traumatized characters.)
also, i'm not good at titles. my first title had the word 'put' in it, but i stared at it so long, it didn't look like a word anymore and i had to change it. i think i like this one better. i stg, titles are half the reason i take so long to post. whew, anyway... enjoy ❤️
“Stefan needs help at Whitmore,” Damon says hurriedly. He puts his phone in his back pocket and sighs. “Another Enzo situation.”
“Do you want me to come?”
“No, you stay here. I don’t want him anywhere near you, given he’s in one of his moods and would hurt you for no reason.” He gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
He speeds out the door a moment later, leaving you alone in the large, empty house. You sigh. Your life is so full of supernatural drama, it’s hard to keep up. Honestly, you’re not even sure what the situation is with Enzo, or why he and Stefan hate each other so much, or how Damon knows what to do to de-escalate their arguments. Of course, Caroline debriefed you on it sometime ago, but with all the craziness happening lately, it pretty much went over your head.
It’s been hard these last few months. Only recently had Damon returned to you from four months after being considered dead, alongside Bonnie, as the other side collapsed with him in it. Those months had been the hardest of your life, and you doubted your ability to make it through them. Losing your best friend and your boyfriend was something you never thought you’d have to endure, yet it happened. Losing them almost killed you, too.
For three years, you were clean. You hadn’t touched a single blade since you and Damon got serious. He gave you a reason to stop without even knowing it, and with a lot of patience with yourself, you managed to kick the addiction. After he died, though, when you couldn’t bear to live without him, you picked it back up. Part of you is pissed for falling back into your old ways, but the other part has convinced yourself it’s what you need to do to survive.
When he came back unexpectedly, you were filled with just as much panic as you were joy. You had him back, but had relapsed majorly, and now have to recount your old steps into being sober again. It hasn’t been easy.
It’s been a couple days since your last time, and while your skin’s no longer bright and swollen, it seems to beg for your attention. You have to plan it carefully, making sure Damon will be gone long enough that he won’t sense the fresh blood. When he grabs your wrists to kiss your face, you don’t want to flinch in slight pain, or let him pick up a chance in your heartbeat.
It’s such a complicated addiction to have when dating a vampire, yet fighting the urges are so hard, sometimes you can’t help but give into them.
The blades in the bathroom are ready for you when you enter. A brand new pack sits in the drawer. The boys won’t miss one or two. The one time Stefan did notice, you blabbered a quick lie about needing one to scrape a bit of food dried to the stovetop. He was in such a rush that day, he didn’t catch any lie, and you were able to smile and flee the scene a moment later. Since then, you make sure to hold onto the one you have until there’s enough to not see one missing.
With everyone seemingly involved in the Enzo situation, you don’t bother to shut the door completely before dragging the blade across your skin. The boarding house is empty, and this bathroom in particular is tucked away nicely behind the stairs. You make a few scattered cuts and watch the blood seep from them. It always seems to calm you in the most grotesque way, and, quite ironically, gives you the perfect dopamine rush that raises your spirits despite the pain. It’s a terrible addiction but with a high reward… until you have to hide the evidence.
That little reminder makes you sigh. Too many scars are hard to hide, and with Damon back, you have to be careful. It would break him to see you this way; that thought alone makes you put down the blade. For a moment longer, you stare at the tricking blood, committing the sight to memory to maybe fend off the next urge. To imagine the blood on your skin may convince yourself it’s there, and maybe you won’t cut the next time you’re so desperate. Maybe.
You reach for a piece of toilet paper to dab the wounds. The bleeding needs to stop before you crave another scare. It’s so tempting, but-
“Hey,” Damon appears suddenly, peeking through the door. His eyes are narrowed, as if sensing something’s wrong. “What are you doing?”
You turn to face him and hold your hands around your back quickly. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” He opens the door a little wider, seeing the reflection of your hidden hands in the mirror. “Let me see your arms.”
“I’m okay.” Nervously, you pull down your sleeves to hide your wounds as much as possible. Your eyes meet the floor, unable to lie if you look into his blues.
“No, you’re not.” He argues, anxious to see your face; to not let you shy away and avoid his gaze. His approach makes your heart race, confirming his worst fears. “Let me see.”
“I thought you were leaving. I thought Stefan needed you.”
“He does, but he can wait.”
“But-”
“You’re my first priority. I can tell something’s up. Please,” he brushes a hair away from your face, “let me in.”
“Damon, I’m fine.”
“You’re hurting, and I can smell the blood, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out right now.”
You huff at the realization that he could smell it. You should’ve waited for him to be gone longer before breaking your skin. “Promise me you won’t be mad.”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Just promise me.” Tears well in your eyes, but you let them fall, unwilling to take your hands off your sleeves.
“Y/N, I promise. I could never be mad. Just let me see it.”
Slowly, you release your sleeves, but leave the task of rolling them up to him. You can’t bear to do it yourself. Damon takes one hand gently and pulls the sleeve back. Upon seeing the numerous cuts, he pulls the other back with a little more vigor, but is still careful not to hurt you. He stares, unable to speak or move, as his heart breaks with every passing second.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His eyes meet yours and you finally break down into tears.
Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms protectively around your body. You feel safe in his arms, you always do. Damon has a way about him that always makes you feel safe, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He’s loyal and understanding, and that is part of the reason you feel so horrible for not telling him this.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, now sobbing into his chest.
Your heart beats and reminds him that you are alive. The cuts made into your skin weren’t deep enough to take you. The pain you have been feeling hasn’t swallowed you whole. He concentrates on your breathing, and your crying, and uses it to anchor himself before asking the thousands of questions flooding his mind.
He pulls away, finally, and wipes your tears with his thumbs. His hands grip your shoulders with a gentle desperation, as if he’s afraid you could dissipate at any moment.
“Y/N…”
“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”
“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”
Your heart feels heavy as you reply, “honestly, no.”
“Why not tell me, Y/N? You know I love you. If you’re hurting, I want to be there for you.”
“I know… I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you? Some part of me was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want you to see me differently because of it. I don’t know.”
“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me love you less. Nothing that would ever make me feel a different way, or see you in another light.”
“I know. I know my feelings are totally irrational, I just… they’re fears.”
“I understand.” He kisses your forehead, then releases your shoulders to hold your hands and kiss them, too. “Hey, can you promise me something?”
“I can try.”
“Come to me the next time you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, okay? Let me help you through it.”
“But-”
“It doesn’t matter what’s going on, or who’s texting, I will drop anything and put you first. But you gotta let me in when you need it. Okay?”
“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now,” he pauses, biting into his arm and holding it out for you to drink. His other hand meets the back of your head, stabilizing your neck to keep you comfortable.
To his dismay, you refuse. You try to pull away, but his other hand prevents that, so you look down instead. “I can’t.”
“Y/N…”
“The scars are a reminder that I bleed. As soon as they fade away, the urge returns, but if they’re there for a little while, the urge is less strong. They’re kind of a comfort, I think. A reminder.”
“So you don’t want me to heal them?”
“I’d rather not. They don’t bother me too much. Do they bother you?”
You can see the hesitation in his eyes. He fights with himself, knowing the sight is a reminder of your pain, but understands their existence helps you heal. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No, baby, I only care that you’re safe.” He kisses them one more time. “Have you eaten much today?”
“Not really.”
“Well… do you mind if I make you something, even if it’s just something small, and then we can sit together on the couch? We’ll take today slow.”
“Okay. Wait, but what about Stefan?”
“Caroline can handle it. Then he’ll be in her debt and she’ll be happy about it,” he jokes.
You smile, appreciating his humor despite the somber mood hanging above both your heads. He’s the light in dark times, the much needed laugh that breaks the awkward silence. It’s part of the reason you fell for him so quickly.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. And thank you.”
He pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then reaches for your hand. “Of course.”
#damon salvatore x reader#damon salvatore x gn!reader#tvd fanfiction#tw: s3lf h4rm#tw: sh#damon salvatore fluff#hurt/comfort
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Almost impossible
Lucy Bronze x AWFC!Reader
summary~ playing a champions league final against the love of your life is harder than you thought. Can you put your life on hold and play those 90 minutes against her?
Playing in a Champions League final was hard. Playing it against the love of your life is even harder.
We fought our way to the final. Every single game got harder and harder but that’s how a competition like that works.
You play two games per week, one for the league you’re in and one for the champions league. I didn’t think about my body or my mental health, i just wanted to win. Not that you really get time to think about it all anyway.
And along the way, Beth got injured and Viv not long after. Leah and Laura later in the competition. So when i thought, i’ve gone through it all, nothing can stop me now, her team was waiting for us on the pitch.
To say i dreaded this day was an understatement, i absolutely hated it. Whenever i played against my clubmates in the international breaks i didn’t even think about it. It was normal, you put your personal life on hold and just play those 90 something minutes.
That’s how football works and i like it that way.
When Lucy and i started seeing each other it wasn’t really serious. We both knew it was almost impossible to date as footballers who weren’t in the same team, let alone league.
Throughout the Euros we’d have little ‘dates’, going to dinner, exploring together or just staying in. We were lucky enough our hotels weren’t that far away. We played against each other in the group stages. Both nations got one point out of it and both of us got out of the groupstages. I guess you could call us lucky.
When Lucy won the Euros I was happy. She deserved it and at least we didn’t take each other out.
We had a little break before going to club life again and i enjoyed every single minute of it. Lucy and i planned a trip right after the euros. We spent two whole weeks together, tanning, going out and enjoying each other.
I guess i really started to feel something in those weeks, like real feelings. The way she would be up, reading a book with her glasses on when i woke up, god i liked those glasses on her. Or when she would take my hand or put her hand on my lower back when we explored the city together.
Those two weeks flew by and i had to go back to North London and Lucy to Barcelona.
At first i just wanted to ignore her, ignore my feelings for her. So when she called after she landed i didn’t pick up. When she texted me i didn’t respond. That’s how it works, you have a great time and after that it becomes too complicated to maintenance.
Lucy posted about our vacation together on instagram. She didn’t tag me, that was probably the smartest move but it bothered me. I didn’t like her post, i just chose to completely ghost her.
lucybronze
liked by keirawalsh and 23.518 others
a winning vacation 🏆
That didn’t mean i didn’t miss her though. I missed her company, i tried to convince myself that i just needed someone but i just needed her.
So when i got ready for bed and scrolled through our vacation photos together and Lucy called me, i picked up. I picked up embarrassingly fast.
“Y/n, i kinda miss you. Fuck no i want you. Just don’t ignore me anymore, i love you baby” she slurred. I could hear the rough music on the background. She was drunk, and called me to confess her stupid love for me.
“Look Luce, you’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying. Please get Keira on the phone with me.” I told her. She hummed and murmured something under her breath, “Babe i mean it.”.
For a moment there was only music coming from the other end until i heard Keira speak “Hey y/n, Lucy really misses you and i can’t hear her talk about you anymore. Talk to her please.”. I sighed and looked at the book at my bedsidetable, the one that lucy was reading every evening when we were on vacation.
“Yeah, i will.. just get her home safe. Please.” I promised her. We said our goodbyes and i hung up. Fuck Lucy, what am i doing.
The next morning i went to training. I was off, i’ve been playing bad ever since i decided to ghost Lucy. Leah knew that we were close throughout the Euros, she just didn’t know we were romantically involved.
So after another bad training session i wanted to train on my own, just a little bit longer. I tried running it off, shooting it off but even doing those awful drills didn’t help. I sank to the ground, defeated that even shooting on goal was going terrible.
What happened to me.
Leah sat down next to me and we sat in silence. “Leah what do you want.” I asked her grumpily. “You know what i want, tell me everything.” Leah demanded. I looked her in the eye and saw the concern. She gave me one of her sad smiles and i just wanted to cry. So when i couldn’t hold the watergates closed anymore she hugged me. I sobbed into her chest and told her everything, about the Euros, our vacation, how i ghosted Lucy and her call. She held me and rubbed my back listening to me.
“Y/n, you should just call her back, you promised her.” she whispered.
So that is what i did, i went home and called her. I was sitting in the kitchen, looking down at my hands that were fidgeting with my rings. I clicked on her contact name and the phone went over, she picked up.
“Hi Luce” i spoke up. “Hey, how are you doing?” she asked me. I was not sure if i should just say ‘fine’, like i did every time someone asked me or if i should tell her how much i missed her.
“Uh ‘m not doing great at the moment” i murmured, hoping she would change the subject. “Yeah, me neither.. i really miss you you know” she told me, just like yesterday. “Luce, i’m sorry i didn’t respond to your texts or picked up when you called me. It’s just that i didn- don’t think this can work.” I told her truthfully. I heard her hum before speaking “We could make this work, I can make this work. Please just try with me. I’m sure we can.”
And that is how we ended here. We facetimed after every practice, went on vacations together whenever we could and Luce tried to visit me every day she didn’t need to train or play.
But i just needed to fuck it all up again.
A week before the final i started to distance myself again. Just like i did about a year ago. I thought it was for the best, i always did. We both needed to concentrate. I didn’t want to put her off her game. I wanted her to do her very best.
She texted me every day. Just hours before the game she texted me good luck.
I wanted to cry, i just needed Lucy to hold me. But she was getting ready for the game. When i saw Leah in the changing room i flew into her arms, i needed her, now more than ever.
Minutes later we were in the tunnel. I stared at the ground, ignoring Lucy who stood somewhere further down the line of her teammates. I could feel her eyes on me but i didn’t dare looking behind me.
Passing every opponent and shaking their hand along with a ‘good luck’ i did no different with Lucy, completely emotionless. Keep your personal life off the pitch. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it has to be.
We were up 2-1 when the halftime whistle blew. I was hopeful. We could do this, we could win this thing. Jonas gave us the halftime talk and we went out again.
Within the first ten minutes they made it 2-3. I had to do my job. I had to make us win, that’s what strikers are for.
Lotte passed the ball to Victoria, she dribbled over the halfway line and gave me the perfect pass. I only had to get past Mapi, she was a difficult one to get past but i managed to do so. I got inside the box, one on one with their keeper. I shot it into the topbins and the stadium absolutely erupted.
Before anyone could grab me to celebrate i ran to the nearest camera and screamed “for you, beth, viv, lee and lau!” and tapped the badge. The team came running at me and katie jumped on me while screaming.
It was the 82th minute and it was still 3-3. Vic passed the ball to Lia, who shot the ball right into my feet. I dribbled past Keira, running into the box and was ready to shoot when i felt the pop.
The pop Beth and Viv told me about. The pop that could end your career.
I dropped to the ground, my hands covering my face, the ball that was planned to end at the back of the net in the hands of Paños.
She stadium was quiet. I could only hear Katie screaming for the medics and Vic holding my hand and telling me i’d be alright.
I took my hands off my eyes and looked at her with tears streaming down my face. “Vic, i heard it pop.” was the only thing i could tell her. I could see she was trying not to cry but i saw the tear that escaped the corner of her eye before she wiped it away.
Lucy came running to me. “Hey, hey.. you’re okay. You’re fine y/n, you’re doing fine.” she told me, more to convince herself than me i think.
I held her hand “Luce, i heard it pop, it’s not okay. I’m really sorry, i was just scared.” I told her. She nodded and just stared at me. Lucy held my hand when the medics came and i was stretchered away until the outer white line of the pitch.
I don’t know how Leah found me but she arrived just in time before they took me to the hospital. I told her about what i felt and she gave me that sad smile again. It made me want to burst out in tears again but i was just so tired. Tired of wasting my happiness and fucking everything up. I closed my eyes and when Leah thought that i was asleep i heard her cry. I didn’t open my eyes, i just whispered “did you see that goal i scored for you?” and she laughed. “Ofcourse i did.”.
When game was over and they confirmed that i tore my ACL. Lucy knocked at my hospital door. I knew we lost.
“Hey baby..” she walked in. I turned my head, looking at her. My eyes were glossy again, hers were too. “You won” i smiled. She didn’t return the smile and just sat down next to me on the hospital bed.
“Y/n, i’m so sorry.” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Luce, it’s not your fault. At least i’ll have a few months off so i can visit you more often” i laughed, trying to soften the mood. She didn’t laugh though.
“Y/n i love you, i don’t care that you ignored me. Just please never do it again.” she kissed me on my forehead. “I’ll try, for you.” I replied looking up at her.
“Why aren’t you celebrating this win baby?” I asked her and she looked at me like i just said the most offensive thing ever. “Are you serious? You think i’m gonna celebrate right now?” Lucy spoke. “I love you” i laughed and kissed her.
Eleven months later i got to play again. A real game of football.
I used the time i had off to visit Lucy. I missed the World Cup and that hurt me more than i would ever admit but seeing Lucy play softened the blow at least a little bit.
She even got some time off to see me play for the first time again since my ACL injury. I got about fifteen minutes of playing time but it was so worth it.
Lucy got a reservation at an Italian place in the evening and we drove home after, or atleast that’s what i thought.
We stopped at one of the Coffeeshops we used to go together throughout the Euros. She opened my car door and we went inside. We sat at the table where we would sit every time, we ordered the same drink and she looked at me.
“Y/n, i know you didn’t think this would work. But it did, we made it work. We can do it together. Y/n will you marry me?” she asked sinking down on one knee. “Oh my god.. Yes Luce, i’ll marry you, now please get off your bad knee.” I chuckled.
Dating another footballer was hard, dating one that wasn’t in the same league was even harder. But it wasn’t impossible.
lucybronze, y/n_y/l/n
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leahwilliamsonn ❤️❤️
keirawalsh congrats!! ❤️
victoriapelova it was about time
katie_mccabe11 might steal her from you bronzey
↳ lucybronze get your own missus
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#lucy bronze#lucy bronze x reader#victoria pelova#woso x reader#leah williamson#arsenalwomen#barca femeni#champions league#womens world cup#lionesses
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It's Nothing Serious
Secret Santa 2024 ••
Alastor and Anthony have been sharing a dorm for over a year. When Alastor comes up with a project for his social psychology class, it's only natural that he would ask Anthony for his help; after all, who else does he trust more? And besides, it isn't like fake dating has ever gone off the rails in the past, right?
Content: fake relationship, human versions, everyone is old enough to do the stuff mentioned within, drinking, trans Angel Dust, HRT involving needles, fluff and corny romance shit, implied spicyness, a whole lot of characters for a one-shot, Christmas-adjacent situations
•••
Here's my gift for the lovely @luciferfemme for the RadioDust 2024 Secret Santa gift exchange! Fun fact: they made the post that was my primary inspiration for Loveless Bond, for which I remain deeply grateful. Anyway, here you are, darling. Hope you like it!
•••
Six feet tall. Thirty-six years old. Outdated photo of him and his fraternity buddies as the only picture on his profile.
Swipe left on that one.
Five foot eleven. Twenty-nine. Fishing picture, fishing picture, fishing picture, just a dog, fishing picture.
Cute dog, but I don’t wanna hear how big his last catch was all through dinner. Left.
No fats, femmes, or Asians.
Fuck you, buddy. How do I mark a guy as ‘hate’?
Twenty-one.
Like Hell you are, you could be my father.
“Looks like pretty slim pickings in the dating market these days.”
“Holy shit!” Anthony jerked in surprise, nearly throwing his phone right into his dorm mate’s face as he spun around and slipped off the couch. He landed on his ass with a sharp yelp, which only made the guy above him start laughing harder. “Where the fuck did you come from?!”
“Louisiana,” Alastor said with a wide grin, his arms loosely folded on the back of their couch as he leaned over to watch Anthony pull himself up off the floor.
“Ha ha, asshole,” Anthony grumbled. “I thought you were at the library.”
“I was,” Alastor said, straightening up and rounding the couch to plop down next to the other young man. “But it’s the beginning of the semester, Angel, I hardly have that much work to do.”
Anthony snorted. “Since when have you ever gone to the library for legitimate reasons?”
Alastor’s smile sharpened that way it did whenever he was plotting something, and Anthony frowned, leaning away instinctively. In the year that they had known each other, Anthony—Angel Dust, to his close friends—had learned how to interpret many of Alastor’s more enigmatic expressions. When they had first met at the start of Anthony’s first semester at college, introduced to each other as new students who would be sharing a dorm, Alastor had immediately made quite an impression: he was handsome, he was mysterious, he was scary, and he was incredibly unavailable (as made perfectly clear by his laughter when Anthony’s first words to him had been some sort of proposition). It hadn’t taken Anthony long to realize that Alastor simply wasn’t interested in anyone or anything that way; however, it quickly became obvious that it was nothing like homophobia or prudishness, as he had no shortage of time to listen to complaints about the men Anthony was seeing nor lack of scathing opinions on each one of those men.
By the end of the first semester, Anthony and Alastor had become very close friends, to the point that they willingly agreed to remain together in the Spring. Now, in Anthony’s third semester, he had been given the option to move off-campus into an apartment or a house, but he’d elected to stay so that Alastor (who was on scholarship and unable to afford to live outside the dorms) wouldn’t have to get used to a new roomie.
Alastor had been surprised when Anthony told him this, but he had recovered quickly and said something to the effect of ‘I knew you would’. But he was happy about it, and no amount of smug posturing would convince Anthony otherwise.
“So, are we on the hunt for a new beau already?” Alastor asked, leaning around as though trying to look at Anthony’s phone again. The screen was off, but Anthony pulled it against his chest anyway. “I would think you’d be more concerned with your studies this semester, considering how abysmal you failed Calculus this past Spring.”
“Shut up,” Anthony said. “I ain’t lookin’ for a boyfriend, and I ain’t even after a hookup, necessarily. Just seein’ how the pool’s changed in the past few months. Ain’t gotten any better.”
Alastor scoffed, leaning one arm on the back of the couch and smirking at him. “I told you, most anyone you’ll find on those apps are going to be scum, because anyone who’s worth dating won’t be resorting to relying on them.”
Anthony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and turning his head away. “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of callin’ you right.” Alastor didn’t answer. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face.”
“You aren’t even looking at me.”
“I can feel it.” Anthony picked up one of their mismatched couch pillows and smacked Alastor in the side of the head with it. The other boy cackled, shielding himself ineffectually with his arms. “Besides, it’s lookin’ like layin’ off the scene will be for the best right now. Feels like half the guys on here are chasers, and the other half got some kinda ‘you’d better not be trans if you message me’ disclaimer right at the top. I don’t wanna deal with that shit right now.”
“Hm.” Alastor’s smile changed to something Anthony might have called a little bit sympathetic, but then, he shrugged. “Their loss,” he said. “Seems like they’d simply feel insecure about you having more testosterone than them.” Anthony laughed, and Alastor’s grin returned. “If you’re going to be off the market anyway, I suppose I should do what I can to make sure you don’t get lonely.”
Anthony smirked, wiggling his eyebrows briefly. “You propositioning me, Al?”
“What– no, stop that,” Alastor said quickly, color rising to his face as he pointed a single threatening finger and ignored Anthony’s cackle. “What I’m saying,” he said, loudly enough that Anthony’s laughter died down, “is that I have a project this semester, and I think it’s something you could help me with, if you’re amenable.”
“Does this involve me losin’ a finger or somethin’?”
“There is a non-zero chance, but it’s highly unlikely.”
Anthony frowned. “...I ain’t agreein’ to nothin’ until you tell me what it is.”
“Fine,” Alastor said, rolling his eyes. “I’m taking a class for my social psych minor this semester, Social Influence and Behavior. Essentially, studying the way that people react to others in social settings and the ways changes in one individual might influence changes in another.”
“We both know I ain’t got a clue what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
Alastor leveled him with a look. “How one or two people acting weird can make the people around them act weird.”
“Oh, okay. I follow.”
“I thought you might. We were tasked with conducting an informal study over the course of the semester, the subject of which is up to our discretion. I thought you would be perfect to help me out with mine, since it’s… well. It’s fucking with our social circle and seeing how they respond.”
Anthony giggled. “Ooh, that sounds fun. A semester-long prank. Sure, I’m down, what are you thinkin’?”
Either Alastor suddenly looked a little bashful, or Anthony was imagining things. “Well, that’s… part of the reason I wanted to ask you, rather than anyone else,” he said, his voice as hesitant as Alastor’s ever got. “Most of my behavior isn’t considered unusual for me, and I was having trouble thinking of something I could do that the others would view as out of the ordinary. The best option that I landed on was dating someone.”
Anthony’s eyebrows went up. “Dating someone?”
“You see?” Alastor gestured at him with one hand. “You’re surprised by the mere suggestion! It would be perfect!”
“So… wait.” Anthony held his own hands up. “Wait wait wait. Are you asking– I mean, what are you asking?”
“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be really dating,” Alastor said, and Anthony wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not. “But you and I really are quite different, and I’m given to understand that sort of thing is subject to quite a bit of social scrutiny, not to mention the idea of me in a relationship is certain to absolutely baffle everyone who has ever met me. And it has the added benefit of the fact that I trust you implicitly and am fully aware that you would not take advantage of this position to my detriment, in addition to the fact that I can rely on you for answers to any questions I might have about how to proceed after a time.”
Anthony was silent for a moment. On the one hand, it was incredibly funny, imagining how their friends would respond to the idea of them being in a relationship. On the other hand, while Anthony would never admit it, he’d been fostering an incredibly annoying crush on Alastor for the past several months and it was only getting worse, a fact that most of their friends (particularly Husk and Cherry) were very adamant Anthony needed to stop immediately. On the other other hand (and didn’t he wish he had more than two sometimes), he couldn’t help feeling deeply touched that of everyone Alastor knew, Anthony was the one that he trusted enough to rely on for this.
Plus, this might get Valentino to leave me alone, so that’s another upside.
“Yeah, sure,” Anthony finally said. “Why the fuck not?”
Alastor did that thing that he did when he was both surprised and excited, the thing that made Anthony imagine he had two big animal ears that had just perked up on the top of his head. “Really?”
“Really,” Anthony laughed. “Sounds like fun, as long as you can handle it.”
Alastor’s expression shifted into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Should be pretty obvious,” Anthony said with a shrug. “The only way this is gonna work is if we don’t act outta character, right?” Alastor nodded. “So… that means you’ve gotta put up with physical contact from me.”
The very idea made Alastor’s body stiffen up visibly. “...you’re talking about public affection.”
“PDA, yeah.” Anthony tilted his head. “Look, nobody’s gonna believe I’m datin’ someone I never lay a finger on, and they won’t buy that you’re actually in a relationship with anyone if you won’t ever let them touch you. You know how physical I am, so if you weren’t willin’ to put up with that, why would we go out at all?”
Alastor sighed, relaxing. “...you make a fair point,” he said. “But I will be setting ground rules, and you will be respecting them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got you, Smiles,” Anthony said. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make you uncomfortable intentionally, and I ain’t gonna do nothin’ without your consent. Just lettin’ you know that if you wanna sell this, we’re gonna have to commit.” He shrugged. “It’s like acting. Think of it as blocking.”
“...right,” Alastor said. “I can do that.”
“Cool. So…” Anthony hesitated. “Uh… when were you wanting to start?”
“As soon as possible.”
•••
“Good morning, everyone!”
The responses ranged from enthusiastic (Charlie) to barely a grunt of acknowledgement (Husk) as Alastor slung his bag over the back of a chair and lowered himself into it. Niffty leaned across the table, pushing a cup of coffee in front of him. “Here,” she said. “We ordered already. We got you your usual.”
“You’re a peach,” Alastor said, patting Niffty on the top of her head and picking up the coffee cup. She smiled, sinking back into her seat. The morning was crisp with just a touch of the scent of autumn in the air, barely detectable under the bouquet of smells coming from the cafe. While Alastor had always preferred studying on his own, he had to admit that he didn’t exactly mind getting roped into this little study group that Charlie insisted on hosting every Saturday morning. They always sat around the same large table together, Charlie paid for everyone with her father’s money (and Alastor didn’t mind wasting that), and it usually devolved into something more fun than simple school work.
“Where’s Angel?” Charlie asked. “He’s coming, right?”
“He’d better be, I ordered the bitch pancakes,” Cherry said.
“It’s a morning study session.” Pentious brushed his long hair back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the table as a whole. “I don’t think Angel’s seen this side of an ante meridiem hour since he left high school and I’m not positive why any of you keep thinking he will.”
Husk snorted. “It’s a tossup,” he said. “He’ll either show up for free food or avoid it because it means work.”
“He’ll be here,” Alastor said. “Don’t worry.”
Rosie laughed. “What, did you wake him up before you left?”
“I threw things on him until he yelled at me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
No one was giving him any kind of unusual look (as far as he could determine), which was something of a relief; it meant that, no matter how Alastor might have been feeling in the moment, the others at the table weren’t suspicious of anything. It wasn’t that Alastor was nervous—what reason did he have to be nervous? It was only Anthony, and they had known each other for over a year at this point—but, as the one with no experience on how romantic relationships were supposed to be conducted at various points, he was incredibly uncertain as to what he was supposed to expect. Anthony had promised him, repeatedly, that he would do his best to keep from making Alastor uncomfortable while simultaneously doing his part to make their little scheme believable, but that told him absolutely nothing about what Anthony might actually do.
Of course, the fact did remain that he trusted Anthony. When they had first met, Alastor had noted his friendliness, and the moment he registered that it was flirting and had expressed his personal distaste for such things, Anthony had stopped immediately. In fact, outside of a handful of exceptions (bumping into each other in their tiny kitchen, grabbing Alastor by the hand when his bad leg gave out and he nearly fell down the stairs outside the library, that one time he’d helped with a particularly stubborn cuff button that Alastor simply could not fasten one-handed), Anthony had taken pains not to make any physical contact with Alastor whatsoever. Despite his friend’s reputation around campus and in various social circles, Alastor had always found him respectful with his hands, even if he had no idea how to control his mouth.
“Oh, there he is! Hi, Angel!” Charlie said, interrupting Alastor’s thoughts. She raised her hand and he followed the line of her gaze to Anthony, who returned the wave with one hand before he lowered it to stifle a yawn. He headed for the table, letting his bag drop onto the floor and slumping into the chair next to Alastor.
“Morning, princess,” Alastor said with a smirk, watching Anthony scrub his face with both hands. “Long night?”
“Nnh. Sleepy. Coffee.”
Niffty began sliding another coffee across the table, but she froze the moment Anthony leaned over and laid his head on Alastor’s shoulder. Alastor jumped slightly, but Anthony remained still, giving him time to adjust to the sensation without giving away their game immediately. It actually wasn’t that bad, after the initial shock of the touch; as a matter of fact, Anthony was actually pretty gentle as he leaned against him, and the white hair brushing against Alastor’s cheek was soft, but not in a way that tickled or irritated.
Is this what it feels like? I can do this.
Alastor leaned to the side as well, pressing his cheek against the top of Anthony’s head before the other young man could move away. “Well, sha, if you’d gotten up when I told you I was getting ready, you could have walked with me and had coffee sooner.”
“Okay, Mr. My Hair And Clothes Always Look Perfect With Zero Effort. Some of us actually have to work to look presentable.”
“…uhm… here, Angel, we got you coffee too,” Niffty finally said, pushing the mug towards him. She was still staring wide-eyed, and Alastor was fairly positive she hadn’t blinked once.
“Oh my god, you’re perfect.”
While Anthony sat up to wrap both hands around the mug and take a careful sip, Alastor took the opportunity to take a quick glance around. Everyone was staring, a variety of expressions on their faces, but no matter what they were thinking it was quite clear that everyone was confused. Alastor kept his usual smile in place; it was really hard not to laugh when Charlie started to ask a tentative question only to get cut off by the arrival of their food.
Alastor turned his head again at a tugging on his sleeve. “Yes, sha?”
“What’d you get?” Anthony asked, his gaze fixed on Alastor’s bowl of pecan oatmeal like he had no idea what it was.
Immediately, he was hit with sudden inspiration. Instead of answering, Alastor got a small mouthful on his spoon and held it up. “Want some?”
Anthony nodded before opening his mouth, instantly reminding Alastor of a baby bird. Alastor fed him the spoonful (he had seen insufferable couples do that in public before), and Anthony ate it happily, humming one of those little songs he hummed when he thought something tasted really good.
“…so…” Charlie finally said. Alastor looked her direction, and was gratified to see that Husk was staring, his mouth slightly open and his face frozen in an expression of confusion that didn’t know if it wanted to be angry or not. “What, um… what’s going on with you two?”
“Going on?” Alastor asked, his smile widening. “My dear Charlie, whatever makes you think there’s something going on?”
“You don’t share food,” Vaggie said, gesturing between them sharply, her brow furrowed.
Rosie held one hand up, her wrist going limp instantly. “You two aren’t actually… y’know…”
“Of course they aren’t,” Cherri said immediately.
“They aren’t what?” Pentious asked, looking around the table quickly. “What? What’s happening?”
Alastor shrugged, looking at Anthony. “You want to tell them?”
“I like makin’ them wonder.” Anthony giggled a little before rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine. Yeah, we’re datin’, you wanna make somethin’ of it?”
Instantly, Niffty muffled a squeal with her hands, and Husk quite confidently said, “Bullshit,” while Cherri almost shrieked the word ‘bitch’ in shock before vaulting out of her chair and running over to start berating Anthony for not calling her (though why he would have was beyond Alastor; he’d have to ask once they were alone).
“When did this happen?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide and her voice doing that ‘I’m about to burst with excitement’ vibrating thing it did before she burst into happy tears.
“Last night,” Alastor said. “I’m sorry, were we supposed to take out space for an announcement in the campus newsletter?”
“No, no, of course not!” Charlie said, waving her hands in front of her face. “I just— I’m happy for you!”
“…thank you?”
“Ignore them, darling,” Rosie said with a casual wave of her hand. “I’ll simply say it’s about fucking time and let it drop.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, which just made her smile grow. “What is about fucking time, exactly?”
“No no, too late, I dropped it. Niffty knows what I mean.”
He turned to squint at Niffty, who still had her hands clasped over her mouth and was nodding furiously. Alastor narrowed his eyes further. “…have we been the subject of gossip?”
“Uh, duh,” Niffty said finally. “And if you weren’t always so damn mysterious, we wouldn’t have to do that!”
As Alastor was processing this, he felt a knuckle thump his shoulder. He turned to look up at Husk, who was looking down at him with an unreadable expression. “Can I talk to you?”
Alastor glanced down at where Husk had tapped him, then back up; normally, that was enough to get him to back down, but he didn’t budge. “Of course.”
He excused himself and followed Husk out the front door, then around to the side of the building where they couldn’t be observed. Once out of sight, Husk turned to him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“At the moment? Being systematically prevented from consuming my most important meal of the day.”
“Cut the shit, Alastor. You know what I mean.”
Alastor held his hands out as he shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult, Husker. Angel is a perfectly delightful young man. Is there something so wrong with someone wishing to pursue a relationship with him?”
“Normally, no,” Husk said, raising an eyebrow. “But this is you that we’re talking about. You aren’t capable of doing things without ulterior motives.”
“You know me so well.” Alastor didn’t let his smile slip. “What’s next, going to tell me that if I break his heart you’ll break my kneecaps?”
Husk scoffed. “No. Angel’s gonna be in arm’s reach of you, he’ll kill you just fine by himself. But if you’re playing some kind of game, you really might want to rethink this, because while we won’t interfere with whatever he decides to do on his own, his siblings might.”
Oh. Shit. I didn’t think about them.
Anthony’s twin sister, Maria, and older brother, Bernardino—affectionately known as “Molly” and “Arackniss” in their little circle— were textbook examples of avoiding even the pretense of subtlety. While much of Anthony’s speech and behavior could be written off as just him being from New York, Molly had been described as “a Long Island princess who might have a gun in her purse at any given moment”, and Arackniss always sounded like he was a sentence away from threatening to give someone a pair of cement shoes. Alastor wasn’t afraid of them, of course; no, he had only ever feared one person in his life, and that honor belonged to his beloved mother. However, Anthony had made it painfully clear that, whatever issues he had with his siblings (particularly Arackniss), they were his problems and anyone who fucked with his siblings would be very unlikely to see the next morning.
Alastor wasn’t afraid of Anthony, either, but that didn’t change the fact that the thought of upsetting him was deeply unpleasant.
Apparently, he had been quiet too long, because Husk’s expression flattened out into something closer to derisive disbelief. “You didn’t even think about it, did you?”
“I deeply appreciate your concern, Husker,” Alastor said, skirting around the question and laying his hands on either of Husk’s shoulders. “But you have nothing at all to fret about! I know exactly what I’m doing, and Anthony is perfectly capable of handling his family on his own.”
Husk sighed, rolling his eyes. “Your funeral, brother.”
When they returned to the table, Anthony gave Alastor a curious look, but Alastor waved to him, their signal for ‘I’ll tell you later’ when either of them had gossip that needed to be discussed privately. The conversation redirected itself almost immediately, for which Alastor was grateful. He enjoyed being the center of attention, of course, but being barraged with questions made it infinitely harder to just sit and observe his surroundings. That was, after all, the point of all of this.
As they were all getting up to leave, Anthony said, “C’mon, babe. I need some new threads and you said you’d give me your most cuttin’ and brutal opinions.”
Alastor had said nothing of the sort, but he knew coded language when he heard it. “Of course, sha.” He waved to the others, all of whom were staring as they left the cafe together and began walking in the direction of the nearby shopping center. Once they were far enough away and Alastor had determined they weren’t being tailed, he allowed himself a small cackle. “That went well.”
Anthony giggled. “Shit, no kidding. I expected a reaction, but fuck. …hehe.”
Alastor frowned at him. “…what?”
“Butt fuck,” Anthony repeated.
Perplexed, Alastor continued to stare until recognition hit him. “You are hopelessly foul and I hope you walk in front of an oncoming bus.”
This time, Anthony’s laugh was full and genuine. “I’m draggin’ you with me, bitch!” He then directed that smile onto Alastor. “So… I know you didn’t actually agree to shop with me, but d’you mind comin’ anyway? I’ll buy you a soft pretzel.”
Somewhere deep inside, Alastor thought, You don’t have to bribe me, sha. I can’t say no when you give me that smile.
It was a ridiculous thought, but it was far from the first time it had crossed Alastor’s mind, so he dismissed it. “Oh, very well,” he said, playing up the visage of being put-upon enough that no one could mistake it for true reluctance. “I suppose I had nothing else to do, anyway.”
This was going to be a lot of fun, Alastor decided. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they learned the whole thing had been a ruse.
•••
Word travels real fuckin’ fast, apparently.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”
Anthony rolled his eyes visibly as he continued putting away the clothes Alastor had helped him pick out. Molly and Arackniss had been waiting outside their dorm room when they returned, and the moment Alastor registered their presence, he suddenly remembered he had something to do in the library and ran away (like a goddamn coward) before either of them noticed him. Naturally, they had started badgering Anthony instantly, following him into the dorm and hardly pausing for breath, let alone any kind of explanation.
Molly wrapped her arms around her legs, glaring up at him. “What, you think you can just not tell us and we won’t find out? That it?”
“If that’s what it was, I wouldn’t never text either of you,” Anthony said, carefully cutting the tag off of a shirt he had decided he wouldn’t be returning. “I was gonna tell you.”
Arackniss scoffed, not straightening up from where he was leaning against the wall next to Anthony’s closet. “Sure you were, Tony,” he said sarcastically.
“I was!” Anthony countered, flinging an empty shopping bag at his brother. “It happened late last night, I had study bullshit this morning, ain’t like I’ve been keepin’ it for weeks or somethin’.”
He could practically hear his siblings exchanging looks behind his back as he put hangars up in his closet. “...you went to a study session,” Molly said finally.
“Yeah.”
“You. Went to a study session.”
“Yes,” Anthony said, carefully controlling his voice so he wasn’t snapping at her. “You’re actin’ like I ain’t never studied a day in my life.”
“Well… not on purpose, anyway,” Arackniss said.
Before Anthony could counter, Molly said, “Didn’t you say he don’t do… y’know. Sex and stuff?”
Anthony frowned at her over his shoulder. “...yeah,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your business. What’s your point?”
“Well…” Molly looked at Arackniss.
He picked up on whatever signal it was, taking over from her. “Tony, you ain’t never dated anybody in your life, and now you’re sayin’ you’re exclusive with a guy who doesn’t even like sex?”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “I don’t care,” he said. “He told me he don’t mind if I keep up my cam work, and anyway, ain’t there more to a relationship than just fuckin’ all the time?”
“Well… yeah,” Arackniss said.
“We’re just surprised you think that,” Molly added.
Anthony turned to them and held up his hands. ‘Y’know what? Fuck both of you,” he said; he didn’t put any real heat in the words, and just looking at their expressions told him they didn’t take it seriously. “I like him, and he likes me, and I don’t give a shit about anything else. And even if it wasn’t for that, I’d stay with him just to piss you off.”
Molly actually giggled at that. “Sounds about right. And I’m guessin’ the aneurysm Ma’d have about you bringin’ home a boyfriend—”
“Who’s both southern and black,” Arackniss interjected.
“—don’t hurt your decision none, either.”
Anthony cackled. “She’s gonna be so pissed, and don’t get me started on Pop.”
“Well, they won’t disown you,” Arackniss said thoughtfully. “I was fuckin’ certain they would when you started your transition. Pops still asks me if you’ve stopped ‘that testosterone shit’ every time we talk.”
Anthony raised his eyebrow. “And?”
“I say no. And then I call you Tony and he hangs up on me.”
He snorted, grinning. If he actually liked his parents, that would have been incredibly painful to hear. Instead, while his parents’ actions made him mad, listening to how his siblings handled it always filled him with a sense of bitter satisfaction. “Ain’t you the best big brother.”
“You fuckin’ know it.”
“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Molly asked. “You got bad taste in men, Tony, and a guy like him…”
“I’m sure,” Anthony said. He meant it, too, but in a much different way than either Molly or Arackniss were taking it. Did he really like Alastor enough to put up with this?
…yeah. He did. And that wasn’t going to cause any problems in the future, because he wouldn’t let it. He valued Alastor’s trust and friendship too much to let it.
•••
Alastor had known there would be… reactions, to put it mildly, when news got out that he and Anthony were ‘dating’. In fact, he had been counting on it; otherwise, how was he going to get any sort of data for his project? He simply hadn’t been expecting so many reactions to be quite so visceral or loud.
That study breakfast had only been the first social hurdle. Over the next month, he’d been yelled at by Vox (who’d had a strangely passionate reaction to the news, and for the life of him, Alastor couldn’t figure out why he was so upset), threatened with extreme bodily harm by Valentino, stalked through the library and the rest of the campus by Blitzø and his three little cohorts, aggressively grilled by both Molly and Arackniss, and been stared at by Zestial with an intensity he could feel from the other side of the quad.
It was still funny, of course, but for some reason, it was also sort of… bothering him? Annoying him? He wasn’t sure the phrase that best communicated how he was feeling, just that there was something unpleasant about everyone behaving as though he wasn’t good enough to be Anthony’s boyfriend. Fake relationship or not, it was hard not to take that kind of thing personally.
Maybe that was why, in mid October, he finally broke down and grabbed his phone to make a call.
He was laying on his bed with his head at the foot, turned onto his side with his phone resting on the side of his head without either hand keeping it in place. It freed them up to allow him to pick at the cheap comforter he broke out once it started getting too cold in the building. The phone rang twice in his ear before he heard a click, followed by the soft, comforting sound of a controlled alto voice. “Hello, Alastor.”
“Hi, maman,” Alastor said, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Catch you at a bad time?”
“Nah. Just gettin’ some packages ready for the store this week,” she answered. Just the sound of her Louisiana drawl was soothing after so many unpleasant conversations. “Somethin’s botherin’ you.”
It wasn’t a question, but Alastor still asked, “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“You never call this late unless you got somethin’ on your mind, kiddo.”
He sighed. Either she was too perceptive or he was growing too predictable. It might have been both, for all he knew. “I… did something, and I wanted to tell you about it.”
There was a soft, distant thud, and he could tell his mother had just put down whatever was in her hand. “I’m not gettin’ another letter from your school,” she said; it was almost a question, but it might as well have been a threat.
“No, no, nothing like that.” Alastor hesitated, pulling on a thread in his comforter until it snapped. “I… asked someone out.”
A very long pause followed that, long enough that he almost asked if she was still there. “Is that so?” his mother asked finally. “You went on a date?”
Alastor shook his head, even though she couldn’t hear it. “It’s complicated, but no. I mean we’re dating.”
“I see.” Another pause. “It’s Anthony, isn’t it?”
Alastor put his hand on his phone and sat up. “How the hell—”
“Oh, please, Alastor.” He could sense her rolling her eyes at him. “After everythin’ you’ve told me ‘bout that boy, I knew if you’d be askin’ anyone out, it’d be him.”
He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. He wanted to say that it was a fake relationship, or… something, he didn’t know what. “...do you think I’m making a mistake?” he asked instead.
“Who knows?” He could hear her chopping something on a cutting board. “But I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you can’t wait to know if everythin’ you’re gonna do is gonna end up goin’ well. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe it’s not. You won’t know until you do it.”
That was a good point, but Alastor wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Are you happy?”
Was he? Alastor thought for a long moment. It wasn’t something he had really considered, always having considered himself fairly content with his life so long as his decisions were just that: his own decisions. Did that mean he was happy? “...yeah,” he said, his voice soft with the realization that he wasn’t lying. “I am.”
“That’s all I care about. I’m happy for you, baby.”
The rest of the conversation was fairly standard, Alastor asking about how things were back home and his mother asking about his studies. When they said goodbye, he realized he actually felt a lot better. He hadn’t realized how much he needed just a little bit of approval. Everything seemed considerably lighter as he got up and left his small room, heading over to knock on Anthony’s door. “Hey, Angel,” he called. “You in there?”
“Yep. C’mon in, ain’t locked.”
Alastor let himself in, opening the door to see Anthony sitting in the middle of his bed with his medication box open in front of him. “Oh. HRT. Bad time?”
Anthony shook his head, drawing his dose out of the bottle. “Nah, s’long as you don’t mind watchin’ me stab myself.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem.” When Anthony gestured to the bed, Alastor sat down, looking over his supplies. “Need any help?”
Anthony glanced at him. “...you any good at givin’ shots?”
“I… have done it before,” Alastor hedged. “Why?”
“Because gettin’ it in my arm hurts less, but I gotta hold the skin taut, so I can’t do it by myself. Usually gotta do it in the thigh and sometimes it bleeds a lot.”
Alastor tilted his head. “...would you like me to give you your shot?”
“If you don’t mind, yeah.”
“You trust me to do that?”
Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. “If you hurt me on purpose, I’ll stab you with my drawin’ needle myself.”
Alastor chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Anthony showed him the proper place to stab, and Alastor held the skin as taut as he could, carefully slipping the needle straight into the muscle just below his shoulder. Anthony sucked in a breath, but he didn’t make any noise of pain, so Alastor made sure he wasn’t drawing blood before he slowly pushed the plunger down. Anthony made another sound, one that made Alastor feel a little strange, and he aggressively pushed the thought out of his mind as he removed the needle. “All done. Bandage?”
“Here,” Anthony said, offering one out to him. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Alastor removed the little round adhesive bandage and carefully covered the puncture wound. Then, on something of a whim, he leaned forward and kissed the spot. “There you go.”
When he sat up, Anthony was actually blushing. “Uh… thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain.
Alastor felt his own face heating up. Why did I do that? He refused to let it show in his expression or voice, just smiling as he stood up. “You have early class tomorrow. You should get to bed.”
Anthony groaned. “I can’t believe you talked me into taking an 8 AM class,” he complained, not for the first time. “You’re the literal worst.”
Alastor’s smile widened. “I am, aren’t I?”
Anthony flipped him off and Alastor laughed as he left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it for just a second, his hand still wrapped around the handle.
The fuck is wrong with me?
•••
A week after the HRT incident—Anthony wasn’t sure what else he should call it—he found himself in Alastor’s room, both of them sitting on his bed and idly playing gin without paying much attention to it. The cards were just something to do with their hands, most of their conversation focused on the latest gossip and talking about the various upcoming Halloween activities, such as several campus parties, the parade, and the massive haunted house that was always open the whole of Halloween week.
“You gonna go do anythin’ this year?” Anthony asked.
“I never do,” Alastor said, drawing a card from the deck and tossing one down.
Anthony smirked. “That’s why I’m askin’ this year. You wanna?”
He’d expected Alastor to buck at the suggestion, but instead, he looked thoughtful. “What did you have in mind?”
“Haunted house and Charlie’s party,” Anthony said. “Thought maybe, if you were down, we could do a couple’s costume and really weird people out.”
That actually made Alastor perk up. “Yes, absolutely, we’re doing that.”
Anthony laughed. “Great. We’ll go shoppin’ for stuff tomorrow, then.”
The silence that followed was thoughtful. Anthony had known Alastor had something on his mind for the whole evening (for the past week, really), but he wasn’t sure how to ask. It turned out he didn’t have to, though, because Alastor finally spoke again after almost ten minutes of playing cards in silence. “You’ve dated people before, right?”
“Hm? Yeah, kinda,” Anthony said. “Nothin’ that lasted more than a couple’a months, tho. Why?”
Alastor went into a much shorter thoughtful silence. If Anthony didn’t know better, he’d say he was hesitating. “Do you…” Alastor began, then shook his head and started over. “What do you usually do when you’re dating someone? And you don’t have to spare me details just because of my delicate constitution.”
Anthony grinned at that. “Well… we go out, like you and I’ve been doin’. But the dates ain’t usually so frequent.”
Alastor frowned. “Your boyfriends ignored you?” he asked, actually sounding a little bit pissed off on his behalf.
“No, no. I mean… not exactly,” Anthony hedged. “More we didn’t… leave that often.”
“...Angel. I already told you, you don’t have to spare me details.”
“Okay, okay,” Anthony said. “We spent a whole lot more time either makin’ out or fuckin’ than we did goin’ out to dinner or whatever.”
Alastor was quiet for a moment. “...I see,” he said. “And that was… fun, to you?”
“Sure,” Anthony said with a shrug. “You know I like sex. I like kissin’, too. I mean, as long as the guy’s good at it,” he added with a faint sneer. “Why d’you ask?”
“Curiosity. Also, a desire to keep people from catching on,” Alastor said. “I mean… I had noticed those bruises on your neck after you had a successful night out.”
“I never cared if someone saw that I got hickies.” Anthony frowned at him. “...what are you sayin’, exactly?”
Alastor looked somewhat embarrassed. “Simply that it was incredibly common for you to have them, and if you continue to… not… won’t some people start getting suspicious?”
Anthony wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take this. “Alastor, people know you ain’t into this kinda thing. I don’t think people are gonna be suspicious because you didn’t spontaneously grow a libido.” Oddly, Alastor looked even more embarrassed, and now Anthony was positive he wasn’t aware of it. The other young man was actually ducking his head into his shoulders somewhat, and he was avoiding meeting Anthony’s eyes more than usual. Anthony hesitated, but… Fuck it, he thought. He told me to be direct. “Alastor, are you curious about makin’ out or somethin’?”
Alastor threw his hands up before he put his head in his hands, staring down at the cards in the discard pile. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “You’re confusing.”
“Me? The fuck did I do?”
“I don’t know,” Alastor repeated, more insistently. “I’d truly never contemplated this kind of thing before, but I… yes, I suppose I’m curious.” The aggressive way he said it made Anthony pretty sure he had to force it out.
“...you wanna make out?” Anthony asked, trying his best not to sound too hopeful.
Alastor laughed a little, but he didn’t raise his head. “I believe you said you enjoy that provided the guy is good at it, right?”
“You sayin’ you’re a bad kisser or somethin’?”
“I really wouldn’t know,” Alastor said dryly, raising his eyes just enough to give Anthony a single quirked eyebrow.
Anthony shrugged. “If you ain’t done it before, then you can’t say you’re not good.”
Alastor stared at him, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “...you know, most people are bad at things the first time they do them.”
“Depends on how fast a learner they are.” When Alastor looked uncomfortable again, Anthony said, “I got a better idea.” Alastor raised his head once more as Anthony moved back to lean against Alastor’s pillow and headboard, then motioned to Alastor to come closer. “C’mere.”
Frowning, Alastor scooted over to him. “What, precisely, are we doing?”
“Cuddles.” When his best friend made a predictably skeptical face, Anthony continued, “All innocent, I promise. Hands above clothes. Won’t even touch your hair if you don’t want me to. Just a test to see how you feel about the closeness.”
“...well… alright.” When Alastor moved next to him, Anthony helped him get settled. They ended up with Anthony still on his back, one arm around Alastor’s shoulders, and Alastor on his side with his head on Anthony’s shoulder-chest-area and arm across his abdomen.
At first, Alastor was predictably stiff, holding himself like he was either ready to spring up at any second or like he was afraid of putting too much weight on Anthony. After a few moments, however, he began relaxing, and Anthony took the opportunity to place his hand on Alastor’s upper arm and carefully run his hand down to his elbow, then up to his shoulder, then back, making sure the touch was firm enough not to trigger unpleasant physical sensation. “How’s that?”
“Mmn,” Alastor said. There was a long pause. “Your sweater is soft.”
“Yep. You comfy?”
“Mhm.”
In minutes, all of Anthony’s fears of chasing Alastor off were replaced with the thought of never being able to get up ever again as his dorm mate gradually became almost dead weight on top of him. He managed to fish his phone out of his pocket, then found a decent YouTube playlist and set the phone up with its pop socket on Alastor’s little bedside table so they had something to do that didn’t require movement.
After nearly an hour, Alastor stopped responding to Anthony. He looked down and couldn’t resist smiling when he noticed that Alastor had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed against Anthony’s chest and his glasses threatening to fall off. Anthony carefully took the frames off his friend’s face, folded them, and set them on the table. He thought about slipping out and going back to his own room, but the moment he tried to move, Alastor’s grip tightened.
Ah well. Fuck it.
It really was comfortable, after all.
•••
It got to the point that they were cuddling every time they were alone.
At first, Alastor had felt the compulsion to make up excuses for his behavior—it was cold, it was more practical so they could read the same book, they were both tired and they could each lay on the couch that way—but eventually he stopped trying. The fact of the matter was simple: he liked it. Anthony never questioned him, thankfully, but he couldn’t help wondering if he was behaving too strangely. After all, this wasn’t supposed to be a real relationship, and sometimes Alastor felt like he was taking advantage of the situation. He had simply never really been in a position to be so close to someone on such a regular basis, particularly not someone he wanted to be close to, and now that Anthony had opened the door… Alastor had discovered he really, really liked the contact.
Snow was falling gently as the two of them left the dormitory together, the moonlight casting silvery light off the blankets of white all around them, illuminating their walk off campus and to the small neighborhood where Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Cherri were all renting a house together. Alastor couldn’t help laughing as Anthony shivered, pulling his hat down over his ears and his scarf up over his face before tucking his hands into the pockets of his huge white coat. “Cold?” he asked mildly.
“Fuckin’ freezing,” Anthony answered.
“You’d think you’d be used to the cold,” Alastor observed; he was cold, too, but he was certainly handling it better than his friend. “Yankee and all that.”
“Yeah well it doesn’t work like that.”
Alastor chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll have cider and you can warm yourself up.”
“Mmn.” Anthony looked at him, curiosity obvious on every inch of what was visible of his face. “Semester ends next week.”
“That it does. You going home?”
“Only if I can’t come up with an excuse to go somewhere else,” Anthony said. “You?”
“Can’t,” Alastor said. “Don’t have the money to travel. The dean’s letting me stay in the dorm over the break. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s staying, anyway.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay with you,” Anthony said. “Unless you’re just dying to have the place to yourself.”
Alastor glanced at him, surprised. “Oh… no, not particularly,” he said. “You know I get bored when I’m left on my own for too long, anyway.”
Anthony laughed. “You’d go through all my shit.”
“I don’t know where half of your belongings have been. No thank you.”
“Shut up,” Anthony said, punching Alastor lightly in the shoulder. “...your project is due next week, I guess?”
Alastor hadn’t let himself think about it very much. “Yeah. I need to finish writing it this weekend.”
“Boring.”
There was something else Anthony wanted to ask, Alastor could almost taste it. He could probably guess what it was, too.
Are we going to tell people it was a prank tonight?
Alastor was glad he didn’t ask, because honestly, he wasn’t sure what answer he would have given.
The house was decorated to an almost nauseating degree with lights, winter-themed foliage, and various lawn decorations of both the inflatable and the non-inflatable varieties. The door was open before they got a chance to knock, and Charlie (beaming from ear to ear as usual) waved them in. “Hi guys! Come on in, come on, it’s freezing outside!”
“You said it,” Anthony said, stepping in past her and pulling off his hat and scarf. His cheeks and nose were all pink, and Alastor had the bizarre thought that it was very cute. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Oh, no, you aren’t,” Charlie said as she took both of their outerwear and hung them up. “Everybody’s in either the living room or the kitchen, and my dad’s here, and I already made him promise to behave so you’d better also behave or I’ll do something drastic,” she added, pointing at Alastor’s nose.
He felt himself go cross-eyed before he nipped lightly at the air towards her finger, making her withdraw her hand. “Like what?”
“Like telling your boyfriend on you,” Charlie said decisively.
Alastor wasn’t sure what to say to that. He settled on, “My, haven’t we grown unreasonably cruel.”
“I’ll beat him up for you, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Anthony said, giving Alastor a wink.
They headed into the room where the Yule party was just getting into swing. Alastor took a moment to absorb the scene: Husk, Cherri, Niffty, and Blitzø were in front of some kind of complicated-looking board game, but they looked more like they were arguing over it than actually playing, while Stolas sat behind Blitzø looking through the rules pamphlet like he was trying to make sense of it; Pentious was sitting in front of Vaggie’s record player, holding up different records to Millie and Moxxie (who were occupying the same chair) like he was getting opinions on what to play next; Vaggie and Luna were at the island connecting the kitchen to the living room and appeared to be doing Jell-O shots; and from the sound of things, everyone else was in the kitchen, which suited Alastor just fine.
He followed Anthony to the center of the room, returning greetings as they were noticed, but they didn’t get far before Rosie appeared and thrust cups of hot cider into both of their hands. “Here, you both look frozen to death,” she said.
“Thank you, my dear,” Alastor said. “How’s the drama this evening?”
“Woefully undramatic,” she said, looking incredibly disappointed. “But I’m sure something will crop up for us to talk about for the next month.”
Anthony grinned. “It better. That’s the only reason I come to this shit.” He leaned closer to her and added in a lower voice, “Then again, maybe someone should just make some drama.”
Rosie leaned in the same distance and responded in the same tone, “If I get my way, I will be.”
“Ooh, dish, what?”
She grinned. “Gonna sleep with Charlie’s dad.” Alastor immediately choked on his cider, and before he could form words, she waved. “Ta, boys,” she trilled, heading back for the kitchen.
“Rosie!” Alastor snapped at her retreating back. “You are a hussy!”
“No, darling, I’m a harlot!”
In spite of the warnings, threats, and threats disguised as warnings, the evening progressed rather smoothly. Niffty was imposing strict limits on the drinking to prevent anyone from getting out of control (“Do not wreck this house, we are renting it!”), which meant the arguing never went too far and no fights broke out, not even from Cherri. When Alastor and Lucifer finally did lay eyes on each other, it was from across the room, but with Anthony and Charlie to steer them away from each other, he didn’t get a chance to do more than tauntingly smirk at the pompous asshole. There were some other people there that Alastor didn’t know—apparently, they were Lucifer’s work friends, but Charlie referred to them as aunts and uncles, so he wasn’t sure what to think—but he managed to avoid interacting too much with strangers, which was usually the reason he didn’t go to parties.
Roughly three hours later, after people had eaten and were milling around again, Alastor found himself sitting on a couch with Blitzø on one side of him and Millie on the other, deep in a conversation about (of all things) French Impressionist film and halfway through his fourth glass of cider when he felt Blitzø nudge his arm with his elbow. “What?” he asked, looking down at him.
“Look,” was his only answer, nodding to somewhere on the other side of the room.
Alastor obliged, his eyes landing on Anthony, who was talking with Niffty (about her clothes, judging by both of their body language). “...it’s Angel,” he said, perplexed. “What’s your point?”
Blitzø rolled his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said. “Look, will you?”
He still had no idea what the other guy was on about when Millie went, “Ooooh, I see,” and immediately started giggling.
“What?” Alastor asked, when neither of them explained.
Almost immediately, he felt someone lean against the couch. “Hey, honey,” Moxxie said, leaning down to kiss Millie on the head. “What’s so funny?”
“Look,” Millie said unhelpfully, pointing subtly over at where Anthony and Niffty were standing.
Moxxie squinted at him. “I have no idea what you’re– oh, no, I see.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Alastor said, looking at Moxxie. “What are you three talking about?”
Fortunately for him, Moxxie was basically incapable of not sharing information when he knew something. “Look over his head.”
Alastor sighed, looked at Anthony, then looked up, and– Oh, he thought, color rising to his cheeks. “...isn’t mistletoe a little… corny?”
“Nah, I think it’s romantic,” Millie said, clasping her hands together at her chest. “Besides, y’know Charlie wouldn’t’a put it up if it weren’t supposed t’, y’know, inspire.”
Alastor rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I don’t– I mean, Angel probably wouldn’t… you know…”
“Are you kidding? You think Mr. PDA would get all embarrassed if you kissed him?” Blitzø asked skeptically. “Besides, he’s standing under it, he’s practically begging–”
“I swear t’ god Blitzø if you say he’s askin’ for it I will eat yer kneecaps.”
“Well, he is!”
“You could always just ask,” Moxxie told Alastor as the other two immediately started bickering about ‘appropriate language’. “And if you aren’t comfortable, obviously, don’t do it.”
Am I comfortable with something like this?
A few months ago, Alastor would have just laughed at the question, or given some kind of sarcastic form of ‘no’ if pressed to answer. But now… he didn’t know if he was or not, and he was finally realizing that he was never going to know if he was or wasn’t unless he actually tried something. He just nodded to Moxxie, finished the rest of his cider all at once, and thrust the empty glass at Blitzø. “This was your idea, so you have to hold this.”
“What– yeah, okay, man, go get some.”
Alastor ignored him, getting to his feet and crossing the room to where Anthony was standing. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear his voice; he was aware that his own thoughts were somewhat jumbled, but there was one thing he knew for absolute certain. It was something he had been thinking for days, a deeply sober sentiment that he knew the alcohol was not influencing one iota.
I don’t want him to go.
“Oh, hey, Al,” Anthony said, turning when he noticed him. “You’re not leavin’, are you?”
“No,” Alastor said, shaking his head. He thought to say something else, but he didn’t; he couldn’t do anything but just look at Anthony.
Apparently, this was odd. Anthony frowned, tilting his head. “...you okay?” he asked at length.
“What? Yeah. Yes,” Alastor corrected. “I’m fine. It’s just… I…” He wasn’t sure how to say it, and on reflex, he glanced up at the mistletoe again.
It wasn’t meant to direct Anthony’s own gaze, but it did, and the moment he registered the little bit of green decor, his cheeks flooded with pink. “...oh.”
Alastor was only vaguely aware of Niffty scurrying away, giggling. Anthony looked back down at him, both of them at a loss for words. Alastor wasn’t used to his speech failing him, because his words were how he had always navigated through life. It was how he had gotten himself out of trouble, and sometimes into it, for many years. But now… what was he supposed to say?
Anthony wasn’t speaking either. But he also wasn’t moving. Alastor didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew was that all of this thinking was making it worse, so instead of thinking, he would just do something.
When he first leaned forward and kissed Anthony, the other young man gasped, as though so much buildup still hadn’t prepared him. Before Alastor could even think about moving away, Anthony flung his arms around Alastor’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Even though they didn’t part lips, even Anthony was out of breath when they parted, and Alastor was fairly certain both of their faces were on fire.
He only noticed the room was silent when someone yelled, “Hell yeah!” which triggered either laughter or vehement shushing from most everyone else in the room. Anthony immediately started giggling, burying his face in Alastor’s shoulder.
Alastor couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of the room. It wasn’t just because it was embarrassing, it was because the sight of Anthony flushed so pink and overcome with laughter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “...are you ready to go?” he murmured.
“Mhm,” Anthony said into Alastor’s shoulder, nodding.
No one seemed terribly surprised when they took their leave, bundling back up in their coats and heading out into the snow once more. The walk back felt both longer than it ever had and so short it was as though it passed in a blink. They were outside the dorms when Alastor took Anthony’s sleeve. “Wait,” he said.
“Y-yeah?” Anthony asked, turning to look at him.
Immediately, Alastor didn’t want to say anything, so he forced out the first words he could without giving himself time to process or second-guess. “Be my boyfriend. I mean… really. My actual boyfriend.”
This time, Anthony was the one who kissed him.
An hour later, they were in Alastor’s room, coats and hats haphazardly scattered on the floor and Anthony’s back against the wall. Alastor grabbed his wrists and pinned them, covering Anthony’s mouth with his own.
Judging by the sounds Anthony was making, he was a fast learner when it came to this kind of thing.
When they parted, Anthony tilted his head back, exposing the line of his neck, and Alastor was unable to resist leaning down enough to kiss his throat. He could feel Anthony’s groan reverberating through his own lips. “Oh, god, yeah,” Anthony moaned. “That’s so good…”
Something about those words, the way Anthony said them, sent a shiver through Alastor’s body. Before he could second-guess it, he bit down on Anthony’s neck, making him cry out and arch his back to press their chests together. Alastor released him. “Too much?” he panted.
“No, no no, fuck no, don’t stop…!”
Alastor bit down again, and Anthony whined, the sound turning into a sort of sharp moan as Alastor began scraping his teeth against his skin. As he began sucking a bruise into his flesh, he discovered that the rougher he was, the more Anthony seemed to like it; by the time he moved away to admire his work, the side of Anthony’s neck was covered in marks ranging from pink to dark red to something bordering on purple.
Anthony was breathing hard. “Fuck, Alastor, you’re so good…!”
Alastor didn’t know what it was, but when Anthony said that, it made him feel like he was going to go insane if he didn’t do… something, he just didn’t know what. He practically growled as he grabbed Anthony around the waist, and his best friend let out an inelegant squeak as he was lifted off the ground and practically flung onto Alastor’s bed. Alastor wasn’t sure how he would feel about this later, but he knew what he wanted now, and what he wanted was to keep making Anthony make those noises.
He stumbled slightly when he kicked his shoes off, but he managed to keep his feet until he could get onto the bed and crawl on top of Anthony, pinning him down and kissing him again. The night devolved into a haze of sensation and emotion, punctuated by Anthony’s whispered encouragement and moans. Alastor wasn’t sure if he was making noise or not—he was too busy listening to Anthony’s sounds to really focus on what he himself was doing—but if the way he felt when Anthony actually moaned the words “you’re such a good boy” in his ear was anything to go by, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what kind of noises he was making.
Eventually, he wasn’t able to form any kind of coherent thought beyond, I’m going to have to rewrite my entire paper.
#hazbin hotel#radiodust#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin radiodust#my writing#radiodust fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfic
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Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner
Index | [prev] - Part 03 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out great writing
Previous Poll:
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“Rarity…”
Deep down, AJ knows she doesn’t want there to be any uncertainty about what this means to her. She doesn’t want to have to read Rarity for romantic feelings during dinner. It has to be a proper date or nothing at all. Though it might sting in the end, she’s going to have to rip the bandaid off. Inside her has lived a deep longing for this moment, long enough that she’s not sure what it’ll feel like once it’s gone. But at least she’ll never have to live with the guilt of a “what if,” and the pain of the unknown. She’ll be able to say she gave it a shot.
If it does end up badly, she knows at some point she’ll get over it. Hell, if the answer’s a no, maybe Rarity will just find the offer flattering and move on. Surely she’s used to turning plenty of suitors away.
“I’m callin’ because I wanted to ask you somethin’.”
She can feel the blood pumping in her veins.
“Anything, darling,” Rarity says, and the energy between them grows serious.
“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you for a while now,” she begins, taking a huge breath to make sure she’s still alive. Here goes nothing. “Would you…wanna have dinner with me? Just us, I mean.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then—
Rarity’s elegant laughter sparkles like bells in AJ’s ears—and she can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“Is that what the fuss was about, dear? Of course I’d love to have dinner with you! Dining is much more pleasant with friends.”
…oof. Maybe she should have said it differently. Is it so unusual to Rarity that AJ would mean it romantically?
Though she can’t help but notice the slight tremor in Rarity’s voice, the brimming question of diffidence just beneath her perfectly curated tone. She has to know that AJ wouldn’t call so randomly and sound so nervous just to ask for bonding time between friends.
Well. AJ has to say it—loud and clear. She doesn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.
Her hands are shaking now; she feels like even a weak gust of wind could knock her over.
The voice that comes out of her own mouth—trembling, pitchy, almost timid—doesn’t even sound like her own.
“I meant”—AJ pauses; it feels like the room is spinning—“as a date.”
“Oh…!”
Adrenaline washes over her upon hearing that single reaction. Nothing matters right now except the voice on the line. Try as she might to stay focused, the pounding in her ears makes everything feel muffled. She feels like she does after finishing a rodeo.
Another sound on the phone, barely a murmur.
“Applejack, I—”
But Rarity doesn’t end AJ’s suffering.
Her grip on the counter tightens and she leans into it for support, the weight of her work-toned body causing the old wood to squeak.
The silence on the line is what kills her.
She feels like a lamb backed into a dark corner, timberwolf-shadows cast on the walls of her doubt-addled mind. This is certain death.
Seconds pass, each one growing longer and more painful than the last. She doesn’t know how to react; she doesn’t know what to say—or if she should say anything. All she knows is that with each passing second, fear and doubt cloud her mind until she’s blind with anxiety.
She shouldn’t have done this. This was a horrible idea. Why couldn’t she have just been happy as friends? Is friendship off the table now? What if Rarity thinks she’s a creep now, with all those times they went to the spa together?
Great, now she’s gonna be known as the stereotypical lesbian friend that hits on her straight friends—it’s a fucking myth anyways, but that won’t matter. Has Rarity ever even shown interest in a woman? Now that she thinks about it…
Hell.
AJ’s seconds away from telling her it’s a joke and just backing off. But before she can, she finally hears a response from her longtime crush, the heart-heavy ache that beats in her chest and haunts her dreams with a silver tongue and soft curls.
“Absolutely, I will,” comes the response, and AJ feels like she can breathe again, “I would love to go on a date with you.”
Rarity, however, sounds breathless, like a feather wisp floating on a breeze. The usual high-pitch, energetic frenzy of her cadence has been replaced with a certain poise and composure that’s hard to place. Maybe reverence is the word AJ’s looking for?
AJ blinks twice, trying to form some sort of a coherent sentence. Her brain feels fried. And. She’s kind of in shock? It takes her a few seconds to process that this is a yes, and not the blatant rejection she was expecting.
While it’s not quite the answer she usually fantasizes about in her daydreams, it still pricks the back of her neck with chills—and a wave of relief washes over her.
“I…Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Okay. This is happening.
“That’s…that’s great news! Okay, well, uh, I’ll see you then and—”
She’s interrupted by a heartfelt giggle from Rarity.
“Slow down, darling,” she laughs, light amusement clear in her tone, “Where will we go? And when?”
Oh. Right.
AJ lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, yeah—sorry.”
“You must let me know what you have in mind. A lady needs to properly prepare herself…for a date.”
Rarity sounds a bit giddy now, and much more like her usual self again.
But. Shit. AJ hasn’t planned anything out yet. In her nervousness, she didn’t even consider what would happen after if Rarity said yes.
Hmm...
She could invite Rarity over. Cook something for her. Pinkie may do it more often, but cooking and baking are skills AJ takes pride in having. She knows she’s a good cook. Besides the obvious benefit of getting to show off, cooking for Rarity feels personal. It’s more work to do, but cooking can be very romantic. Plus, there are plenty of romantic spots on the farm. Though she doesn’t plan on dining on the floor of the barn, it’s still a farm (and a farmhouse) and she knows how Rarity can be. AJ would hate for one of her dresses to get dirty as a consequence. Even worse, get blamed for it.
There’s also the option of a more traditional romantic evening. A nice restaurant would mean less prep for AJ, and it shows Rarity that she knows what she likes. It would also give Rarity permission to go all out with her outfit, unlike the farm. (Though AJ has a feeling she’ll do that regardless.) She could put on a fancy getup herself and show Rarity she cares about the impression she makes when she’s not toiling in the fields. Oh, but the thought of leaving the fashionista unimpressed by her attempts at an outfit…it makes her itchy. She’d have to ask someone for help besides Miss Haute Couture herself. It’d feel a little taboo to have her pick it out for their date. While dining out means AJ gets to stare unashamedly at Rarity the whole night, it could also be…awkward to sit opposite to each other if it ends up being stiff. Hopefully it won’t be. It’s Rarity; she couldn’t be boring if she tried. And besides—they always find something to joke about, even if it’s themselves.
Then there’s the financial aspect of going out. AJ doesn’t splurge on anything. Ever. She would for Rarity, though. She’s got enough saved for that. Still, she gets annoyed at people trying to nickel and dime her on every little thing. If it comes to that, she hopes she can keep her annoyance to herself. For Rarity.
Ugh. What to say…
---
Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife
#Curious what people will choose#poll adventure: rarijack dinner#polls#rarijack#applejack#rarity#mlp#my art#accidentally making AJ lefthanded with that dicing art lmao#guess she's ambidextrous now
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Touches
Genre: fluff
Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend
Important Contents: mentions of anxiety
asked and answered. Hopefully you like it, anon. I hope you feel better. And remember, there's always a place for you here. ♥️
WC: 1.1k
masterlist
Anxiety is a bitch.
Everytime my leg started shaking or my fingers were looking for something to pick at, I knew I was in trouble. It wasn’t even a conscious decision most times. I wouldn’t even notice it until my mother would put her hand on my knee and squeeze, giving me a look that said ‘please for the love of god, stop’ and those were never fun to be on the other side of. When I would catch myself doing it, I would try to stop, but it would take some unknown edge off of whatever emotion I was feeling a little too much of. Just letting it out was the only way it wouldn’t explode out in some destructive manner. Letting something else be stimulated was better than any other alternative. Or something like that. That was how it felt anyway. And those fidget toys didn’t really help either. They were fun for a bit, but when I needed them, I wouldn’t be able to find one.
When I started dating Chris, it didn’t stop per say, I would just catch myself doing it less. I would be distracted with something we were doing or he would have enough of my attention that it wouldn’t be deemed necessary by my subconscious. But when it was quiet, when it was just us two, I would find myself doing it again. Sometimes I would feel the pads of my thumb, looking for something to pick at or my foot would be moving of its own accord and I would force myself to stop before he noticed. It never worked though.
He was always subtle with it too, never bringing it to my outright attention. When he saw my feet tapping, he would start tapping too. His fingers would start tapping on my thigh like a drum, like he was going along with me to some silent song or beat that only we could hear. Or his feet would start to tap all on their own. Both instances he would start bobbing his head along with whichever it was whether he was in a conversation or not. He would say it wasn’t because of me, but sometimes he would start right after I stopped. Like we were in sync.
We were waiting for someone in this large boardroom, sitting on different chairs next to each other. Chris didn’t tell me what we were doing in here, but all eight of them were talking joyously around me, all smiles and jokes. I assumed it wasn't anything serious if the atmosphere of the room was any indicator. I just didn’t know what I was doing here.
Chris was immersed in a conversation with Felix about something else to do with their homeland, paying me no mind. Which was fine, I didn’t expect his attention all the time. He had other things to think about. He was turned away from me, talking avidly. The spark had returned to his eye for the first time in a whale now that promotions were done, and it was the most relaxed I’d seen him in days. The preparations for their upcoming dome tour were causing him to come home and immediately crash with only enough energy to strip and koala himself around me. He rarely got sleep without me there, and I just plain didn’t sleep without his radiator for a body next to me.
I was looking around the room for anything remotely interesting to look at. These JYP rooms were so boring. All white walls and tan long tables that added no extra color to the room. Not even any decorations on the walls to distract a person should they deem the meeting uninteresting. Maybe of of Hyunjin’s paintings could go up there. That’d be nice. Maybe some curtains over that window too…
A hand had reached for mine, brushing his thumb across my lip as he pulled mine away from my mouth. It pulled me from my daze, the familiar veiny hand knowingly taking mine. Without even glancing my way, he pulled my hand into his lap and started to use my nails to trace across the pads of his own, a comforting touch.
It was mindless. Subtle enough to anyone looking at us to only see that we couldn't stand not touching each other. But for me, it was a way to stimulate my hands without being too much of a distraction, one of my biggest discomforts. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen, but to be noticed when the attention was on something else was not high on my to-do list. Ever.
The grain against my nail was enough to pull me down to earth, Chris’s gentle press on them an invite to join in on their conversation. Silent communication was what we were good at.
“These walls are so boring. They should put one of Hyunjin’s paintings up or have him draw something for them.” I interjected when there was a slight pause.
“I was just saying that the last time we were here! Wasn’t I?” Felix looked to his elder, who smiled brightly at our conjoined hands.
“You did, you did.” He chuckled at how excited Felix had become at the mention of his member’s hobbies. He was still running the pads of his fingers over my nails gently, just enough to tickle.
“I think he could put one of the flowers over on that wall, really. It would liven up the place. Maybe someone would actually be excited to have a meeting. Hey hyung!” Felix turned away to tell his member, leaving Chris and I to stare at our hands together.
“Why am I here? This doesn’t have to do with me, does it?” I whispered in his ear, a slight quiver giving me away as I nudged my shoulder into his.
“No, baby, no. It has nothing to do with you. You just make these things so much easier. I can concentrate with you here, as weird as that sounds. You make my brain go quiet.” His eyes were shining at me and I couldn’t fight my grin if I wanted to.
“You know what’s funny? You do the same for me.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Besides, there’s no confidential information in this one so I thought you could tag along to keep the boys in line while I talk.”
“I don’t remember adopting seven kids to keep in line?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“You did when you said yes to dating me.” He kissed my hand again as the door opened, people filing in and taking their seats. I watched them come in and whispered back to him.
“I want another look at those papers.” He turned back to me and shrugged.
“Not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.”
Bastard.
#stray kids#bang chan#chan skz#skz#skz bang chan#chan stray kids#chan x you#chan x reader#christopher bang#stray kids chris#chris bang#chan fluff#bang chan fluff#chan fic#chan#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan boyfriend#bang chan scenarios#bang chan x reader#bang chan drabbles#bang chan x gender neutral reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan fanfic#bang chan imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x gender neutral reader
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Hiii i wanted to ask If you want to make a Part 3 to the Alien Thing (SoapGhostRoach)
maybe Roach or Soap find out that Ghost is in his mateing phase and want to see what that does to him?
Or maybe Roach still needs more infos so He takes... a closer look at Soap and Ghost?
Yeah I can write another part for it
Part 1 Part 2
Soap had been thinking recently. On his planet, interspecies relationships (from his own planet, not others) were fine as long as they weren't serious. His planet was an anomaly in that no predator species really thrived so most species looked a lot like him with only very small differences. None had managed to get sentience at the very least. It was part of what made his new... partners so exotic he supposed. Nothing like it from where he was from.
Sex was treated differently as well. It was common to have casual sex since interbreeding was impossible. He had long since understood that with Roach, monogamy was more serious. Though harems occasionally existed throughout their history, it did not seem the natural state of them, as they paired up more often than not. There were so many rules to their courting. Dates, something called third base and also asking permission from your partner's family. It was all so strange.
Then there was also a matter of Ghost. His species also used to have harems, though they never quite left it.
The part that Soap had been entertained by was that it was not based on sex or gender. Or even species. They had been building harems of their own species for years before they started going out and exploring the universe. Soap had been surprised when Ghost had been so insistent about their rules around consent. Anyone else, he may have assumed it was naivety, but with Ghost? He believed him. To take away one's choice was an act punished by the worst thing they could due to each other.
Tear the criminal to shreds publicly.
Ghost had proudly told them he had been a part of some of those trials and Roach and Soap had almost started salivating.
Today, Soap and Roach were anxious. Something had happened. Something never before seen or heard of.
Ghost took vacation time.
It wasn't much, just three days, but it wasn't even while they were on a planet!! They were just on ship!
Roach had never seen Ghost take off work. Most people refused to take work off while the ship was moving anyway because there was usually next to nothing to do for long periods of time, so this was extra strange.
Soap hummed. "Maybe we should bring him something? He has to be sick if he's taking off, does his species have an equivalent to salad?"
Roach thought it was very fun Soap would consider salad a food for sick people, but decided he could ask more about that later. "Humans do soup. Would his version be something with raw meat? Seems the best for him."
They put their brain cells together and brought him a steak. Was it unoriginal? yes, but sick people don't need fancy stuff.
Roach went in to his chambers first, one of the few people to have a master key. He went to announce his presence, Soap close behind, but both quickly shut up.
Ghost held the pillow tight over his face. There was no way he could breath easily based on the death grip he had on it. His other hand was furiously jacking off.
It was the most vocal either had seen him. He whimpered and whined and barked just loud enough to get it through the pillow.
"You called off work to jerk off?" Soap joked, though he was now bright red.
Ghost sluggishly reacted to them. He moved the pillow. Beautiful maskless face on display. There was a layer of exhaustion to him that was abnormal. "Fuck off. I was finally fucking close." He sounded miserable, head thrown back. His hand stopped though and he rolled his wrist to get the soreness out.
Roach swallowed, feeling a tiny bit out of his depth. "You okay?"
"Mating season." Ghost hissed at them, tail thrashing angrily. "Please, neither of you are going to want to be around me for the next two days so just get lost." He finally got the idea to cover his body up.
His hand started up again and it was clear the way he was doing it, this had been going on a while and his frustration was mounting.
Roach and Soap exchanged glances. Actually making eye contact.
Soap nodded at the door and Roach locked it. He turned around to see Soap slowly joining Ghost, taking the pillow from his face. Ghost looked at him, groaning.
"Please don't torture me, Johnny." His voice was barely above a growl now. He couldn't imagine the amount of strength to simply put the words together.
Soap put his hands on Ghost's shoulder. "Don't worry, Simon. Just want to help you out."
No sooner had he gotten the words out did Ghost flip them over. He fucked between Soap's thighs, pressing them both tight into the mattress until it was hard for Soap to breath.
Ghost rutted between his thighs until he finally, finally came. He groaned with pleasure and kissed Soap breathless. "Thank you, thank you, fucking hell. I'll do anything just keep letting me do this." His hips only stuttered before continuing.
Roach hummed. "Ghost. You told me that your mating season had minimal effect on you. I would say this is not minimal effect."
Ghost groaned. "It's hitting a bit hard this year, I'll admit."
Soap purred. "Can't say I mind. I have some time I can put in. If you need to be coddled."
Ghost growled but Soap squeezed his thighs and quickly shut him up. He rested his head on Soap. "I do..."
"You do what?"
"...need to be coddled. I thought I'd be fine but please, I need help." He sounded so sad and miserable.
Roach gently ran his fingers through his hair. "You should've said something. We could've helped you." He glanced at Soap's face. "Happily."
Ghost whined. "It's improper. I'm rutting against you like a fucking..." He buried his face in Soap's neck.
Roach hummed. "Continue. Please. I have notes to..."
Ghost groaned. "Gary... please... Can you just pretend you like me? No fucking experiments."
Roach paused. He almost said something, though he wasn't sure what words he could possibly string together. Maybe an apology? He never intended to make Ghost feel that way! Though maybe he should've realized sooner.
But before he could get it out, Soap was turning Ghost of him. "Hey now. You poor thing. What gave you that idea?"
Ghost huffed and his tail lashed. "You two are quite a bit more compatible than I am..." He yanked Soap up and buried his face in his chest. "I'm not like either of you guys."
Roach quickly joined him and kissed Ghost's face all over. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry."
They quickly managed to pin Ghost down and Roach kissed him gently. "I have some vacation time. We'll all put it in. Promise. I think I have some things i need to make up to you."
Ghost relaxed and nodded, panting. "Please..."
They took turns stepping away to inform their respective bosses. Neither wanted Ghost to be alone too long. Roach pushed Ghost so he was laying down and he started to ride him, cupping Ghost's face and smiling at him. He maintained eye contact and if he thought Ghost was gone before, it was nothing compared to now. His pupils expanded until they almost took up the color.
"Course I love you, Simon. Thought you knew that." Roach ground down and Ghost growled, yanking him closer.
"You guys aren't going to be able to walk for the next week."
"I look forward to it."
#Johnny “Soap” Mactavish#Simon “Ghost” Riley#Gary Roach Sanderson#Soap Cod#Ghost COD#Soapghost#Ghostsoap#Soap x Ghost#Ghost x Soap#Macriley#Call of Duty#Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2#ghost x roach#roach x ghost#roach x soap#soap x roach#ghost x soap x roach
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The Chase - Part 3 | Hangman x Reader
My gosh, here it is part 3! Thank you again for all the support! This might be my last update for a little bit, almost ready to welcome our little babe into this crazy world.
In honour of Glen Powell's Birthday...Here's Part 3!
Word Count - 1547
No Warnings for this chapter! - The Chase continues :)
It was nice to sleep in, perks of working the afternoon shift, but you thought about Jake’s offer of dinner, and you found yourself taking a little extra care in choosing your outfit and getting ready for work. As long as you've been working at the bar, everyone has told you the same thing. He’s not looking for anything serious, he’s just looking for one night. You didn’t know enough about his tactics to know if taking girls to dinner was part of the one night, but for some reason it just didn’t make sense to you if it was. Why would he shell out money on a date if all he wanted was to get into someone’s pants. “You keep polishing that glass, it’s going to disappear” Amelia, Penny’s daughter, sat on the bar stool in front of you, a knowing smirk all too much like her mothers across her face. You rolled your eyes and poured her a soda “what’s with the look?” She sipped her fizzy drink and raised an eyebrow at you “I could ask you the same question, but I already know the answer.” You shook your head, deciding to humor her “oh yeah? And what’s the answer then?” She grinned and shrugged, before hopping off the barstool and making her way towards the back deck “did you know on the first Saturday of every month Mav takes the squad to the beach for their dogfight football match?” Then she disappeared out of the back deck and down to the picnic tables on the beach.
Curiosity got the better of you, even though you’d heard many tales after a dogfight football match, you'd never actually seen them play. Tucking the cloth into your back pocket of your shorts, you made your way out to the back deck. You certainly heard them before you saw them, but there, just on the edge of the water was the entire squad, throwing footballs seemingly at the same time, laughing and teasing each other. Even from this distance you were able to clearly make out who was who. And there was certainly one that stood out among the rest, causing a slight flush to rise on your neck as you ogled from the far sidelines.
Jake was so involved in the game - his competitive nature of course- that he didn’t notice you were watching from the back deck of the bar. That is, until Bradshaw pointed you out “looks like we’ve got a couple of spectators.” Bradley casually mentioned as he nodded towards the bar, where you were on the deck and Amelia was on a chair a little ways in front next to Penny. “That explains why Mav seems to be on his best behavior” Jakes lips quirked up in a small smirk “so he’ll be the easy target is what you’re saying Bradshaw.” Bradley rolled his eyes “I could say the same for you Seresin. I was thinking of asking her out, you wouldn’t have any qualms about that, would you?” Hangman’s grip automatically tightened on the football, involuntarily as his jaw clenched “she wouldn’t give you the time of day Bradshaw.” Bradley grinned, knowing that Jake was head over heels for you but too stubborn to admit it, “I think I’ll shoot my shot anyways.”
You couldn’t hear the exact words being shared over the game, but anyone within a mile radius could see the tension radiating off Bradley and Jake, before they continued their match. Those two were like fire and gasoline, always chirping and teasing each other, the camaraderie was there sometimes, but more often than not it was one of them trying to best the other. You watched a little longer, before opting to finish opening up the bar before the rush came in and making your way back inside.
As you were stocking beer from the walk-in fridge into the fridges under the bar, you heard the back door open and close. “Sorry, we open at 3.” You stood up, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead before you met the sea green eyes of Jake himself leaning on the bar - albeit still shirtless. Your lips pursed tightly to fight the urges that you were sure rose straight to your cheeks to color them pink. “Penny said I could come in and grab a couple cokes and that there were some energy drinks in the fridge?” His knowing smile plastered across his face. Of course he knew he looked good, he knew the planes of his chest and abdomen were hard to resist even for those who resisted most of his other charms. You blinked quickly and shook your head realizing you’d most definitely been staring at his pecs, and he probably caught it. “Uh yeah let me take a look.” You quickly turned away from him, bending to check the fridges in the middle of the island bar. “Um, did Penny say where they are?” the humming of the refrigerator hid the sound of his footsteps and when you stood up you realized he was right behind you. “I think they might be either in the back, or in the walk-in fridge. Want me to go take a look?” You subconsciously licked your lips - his sandalwood and cinnamon scent taking a backseat to coconut sunscreen and salt “no, I was just back there and didn’t see anything so they must be in here.” You took a step away from him, to another fridge door and opened it, bending over to move some beer bottles out of the way and finding the cokes and energy drinks that Penny had indeed mentioned. “Found them!” You took a breath of the cool fridge air before standing up and handing him the beverages “here you go, you know, If Penny knew you were back here, she’d have a fit.”
Jake grinned, he couldn’t help it. He was finally alone with you, your attention all on him - albeit for a short amount of time. He took the drinks from you, his calloused fingers brushing your soft ones “Did you sleep well last night?” You looked up at him in surprise, a pink tinge on your cheeks “yeah, I wasn’t that drunk… I actually slept in a bit.” He nodded “did you give any more thought to my offer? Can I take you to dinner?” the butterflies were assaulting your stomach again, the heat of his body so close to yours making everything feel warmer than it was. “I’m working tonight.” His name was just on the tip of your tongue, his name, not his call sign. Right now, the two of you in the bar, alone with nothing but the squeaky ceiling fan and waves quietly crashing off on the shore in the background, Jake was looking down at you, something you couldn’t read reflected in his eyes. Hangman would show up later, you thought, once he had a few beers and you turned him down again for fear of what could be. “Come on, don’t make me ask Penny for permission to take you out, you’re an adult. It’s just dinner.” You turned around facing the bar again, beginning to wipe the sticky top in circular motions. “I’m not like those badge bunnies you take home every night, I’m not going to go to dinner with you just so you can get into my pants.”
Jake’s face fell momentarily before he cleared his throat and moved around the front of the bar so you would be facing him again, this time when you met his green eyes, there was hurt reflected in them. “Is that what you think my play is?” Scoffing and rolling your eyes you crossed your arms across your chest defensively “I’m not blind or stupid, Hangman, I see you leave with a different girl every night. I'm not going to be another notch in your obnoxiously low belt.” He straightened and his jaw clenched lightly “let me prove to you that I’m not always that guy. Come on darlin, one night, a great meal. You’ll get a free meal and at least half a good bottle of wine.” The resolve you normally held for him was crumbling under his gaze, you wanted to say yes so badly, but the monster of fear reared his ugly head in your chest. Your heart leaps for one answer, your head turning you to another. After a few minutes of your silence Jake’s frown deepened. “Alright, you keep your resolve for now, I’ll chip away at that tough exterior wall soon enough. Whatever I have to do to prove to you that I’m not whatever is written on the stalls…” taking the cool beverages into his arms “see you later for real drinks.” He turned and began making his way back to the beach and the squad. “Fine!” Just as he was about to step into the heat your voice called out to him. He turned and looked at you from across the bar, his eyebrows raised “what?” You lifted your chin indignantly “I’ll go to dinner with you, but I expect to be wined and dined Jake. None of these cheap beach shack burgers or anything.” His lip quirked up “you’re in for the night of your life darlin’”
--
As always, let me know what you think! I appreciate the feedback and love this story has already received! a little slow still, but I promise their date is going to be really good!
Taglist - let me know if you want to be added or removed!
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Only You
word count: 1.4k content warnings: mildly smutty, serious smut incoming
You've always secretly wished Donghae would be a little more dominant in the bedroom. And then you watch that performance.
This “let’s surprise our boyfriends on tour” double date may have been a bad idea.
You like Eunhyuk’s girlfriend a lot, she’s bubbly and charismatic and a little bit cheeky. And she’s sexy in that special way, the one where you know you could never be like that but somehow she doesn’t make you feel threatened anyway. She’s like the sexy older sister you never had, she Knows Things and you couldn’t be more grateful she’s taken you under her wing. It’s nice having a friend to guide you through the minefield of dating an idol.
But now the four of you are cosied up in a restaurant, and she’s grinning at Donghae with a cheshire cat smile, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. A suspicion that you know what’s coming.
“So, oppa…” Damnit, you were right. She’s absolutely going there.
Neither of you had been prepared for that performance of Only You, and the way she caught your eye afterwards let you know she was remembering that tipsy conversation you’d had a few nights ago. The one where you went on and on about how great Donghae was, how much you like him, and how you’ve never dated someone who treats you so well… but. You had confessed the teeny tiny imperfection in your relationship.
Sometimes you wished Donghae was a little more dominant in the bedroom. As great as he looks on his back, all mussed up and sweaty, begging to be inside you while you tease him with your fingertips… Sometimes you wished he’d put all those muscles to good use.
And then. A few hours ago. You watched that performance. Seeing your boyfriend get all handsy with one of the female dancers, practically throwing her around the stage in a dance so sexually-charged it felt like you were watching I Wanna Love You for the first time.
You know it was all carefully choreographed, and that Donghae had probably struggled through rehearsals getting increasingly awkward each time. Probably blushing so hard he’d burst a blood vessel or two. But professional or not, watching him touch another woman was always a little… challenging. Jealousy cares not for logic.
And to see him touching someone else like that, the way you’ve been secretly wishing he’d touch you. Well, it’d gotten your panties in a twist. In more ways that one.
Is it so much to want your boyfriend to pin you down and ravish you?
“Since when do you call me oppa?” Donghae raises an eyebrow at her. Which is fair, as they’re the same age and he’s known her long enough to recognise when she’s up to mischief.
“Oh, I don’t know, since about the time you started dragging dancers around the stage by their ankles after thrusting in their faces?” No one should be able to pull off puppy eyes after saying a sentence like that, but somehow she manages it.
“...ah.” You can tell he wants to hide his face in his hands, but instead he turns to you with a worried expression. “Are you upset with me?”
“Don’t be silly, how could I be upset with you? You’re the boyfriend of thousands of fans, I don’t mind having to share.” Okay, so you might mind a little, but the genuine concern on his face makes your heart flutter away all the jealousy. He only looks at you like that.
“It was Eunhyuk’s choreography…” He reaches for your hand under the table, twining your fingers together tightly.
“Yah, the ankle thing was your idea.” Okay, that does send a stab of jealousy through you, but Eunhyuk’s got the same mischievous twinkle in his eye as his girlfriend and you can’t help but suspect she might’ve shared your “I wish Donghae would rough me up a little” secret with him.
“Jagiya…” Donghae is so pretty when he blushes. And while it’s tempting to torture him a little, he already seems to be suffering. You give his hand a squeeze.
“The important thing is that the fans loved it.”
“She loved it too.” Eunhyuk’s girlfriend’s stage whisper could’ve been heard at a heavy metal concert, and now you’re blushing too. You’re going to spill soup on her shoes.
Unsure you can squash your soup-i-cidal urges, you quickly make some excuse and head to the restroom.
This restaurant was not designed for a speedy exit. A maze of tables and chairs, clearly put together by a madman. The kind of labyrinth that requires a mental map, some kind of pre-planning to avoid any furniture based collisions.
By some miracle, you make it to privacy with no physical injuries. One of your favourite things about fancy restaurants is how luxurious the bathrooms are. This one is almost the size of your apartment, all marble surfaces and golden fixtures. The wall above the sink is one long glitzy mirror, polished to perfection, not a splashmark to be seen. It’s all very lavish.
You’ve never rubbed one out in a public bathroom before, but you’re sorely tempted when your mind flicks back to how easily Donghae’s hand wrapped around both of her wrists, how you got that familiar tingle between your legs watching him manhandle another woman on stage. Thinking about how easily he could pull you into a dark corner somewhere and pin you against the wall. Or push you down to your knees…
You catch your own eye in the mirror, take one look at your flushed face and sternly tell your reflection to get a grip on herself. You need to get back to the table, Eunhyuk and his girlfriend are probably teasing Donghae relentlessly. You should go rescue your boyfriend.
Just as you reach for the handle, someone opens the door from the other side. You stumble back a step so as to not get struck by the swing of it. Before you can fall back, a strong hand grabs your wrist, and you’re pulled forward into a very firm, very familiar chest. Donghae.
“Are you okay?” With his arms wrapped around you and your face comfortably nestled in the dip of his clavicle, you are absolutely okay. More than okay, especially when his arms tighten around you, and he presses a kiss into your hair.
But, you’re in public.
“Donghae… we’re in public.”
In one smooth movement, he reaches around and locks the door behind him. You didn’t know that was an option. You also didn’t know the act of locking the door without looking could be so attractive.
You don’t have much time to think on that though, because Donghae mumbling apologies and kissing your neck and it’s all making you a bit dizzy. You gently disengage, pushing him back just enough so that you can look him in the eyes. And maybe breathe a little.
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” He interlocks your fingers and brings your hands to his face, kissing over your knuckles and resting your palms against his cheeks. “Did you leave because you’re upset? I can change the choreography…”
“I can change the choreography.”
“You don’t need to do that, I promise, I’m not mad.” He still looks like he doesn’t believe you, so you throw caution to the wind and spit it out. “Not mad. Just… maybe a little jealous.”
“Jealous?” It takes a moment for the penny to drop, you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. You’ve never expressed any interest in being on stage in any sense, you’ve made a point of being a terrible dancer, so what would you be jealous of… Oh. Oh.
He’s giving you the look. The look that usually winds up with you both tangled up in the sheets, naked and sweaty and panting.
“You want me to be rough with you.” It’s a statement, not a question, and that alone has you getting hot beneath the collar.
“Mmmhmm.” You love it when his eyes go dark. You didn’t think it was really a thing, but the way he tilts his head causes the light to hit different, and that paired with his dilated pupils makes his eyes look much wilder. Now those dark eyes are looking at you like you're a snack and he’s a man starved.
masterlist | part two
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