#cracked lip corners treatment

[o-p-p-h]

How To Heal Cracked Lip Corners Fast At Home

Are cracked lip corners causing you discomfort and embarrassment?

You're not alone! It's estimated that over 10 million people worldwide experience cracked lip corners at some point in their lives.

But don't worry, there's good news! You can easily learn how to heal cracked lip corners fast at home with the right instructions. In this guide, we'll walk you through simple steps to treat and prevent cracked lip corners.

By identifying the cause, keeping the area clean and moisturized, and using natural remedies, you'll be able to soothe and heal those painful cracks in no time.

Plus, we'll share some healthy habits to prevent future occurrences.

Key Takeaways

Identify the cause of cracked lip corners by examining daily habits and hygiene practices.

Keep the affected area clean and moisturized by gently washing with mild soap, patting dry, and using lip balms or ointments with petroleum jelly or beeswax.

Use natural remedies such as DIY lip balm with coconut oil, beeswax, and essential oils to soothe and heal cracked lip corners.

Adopt healthy habits like staying hydrated, using lip balm with SPF, avoiding lip licking, and incorporating a healthy diet to prevent recurrence.

Identify the Cause of Cracked Lip Corners

To identify the cause of cracked lip corners, you should examine your daily habits and hygiene practices. Common symptoms of cracked lip corners include redness, dryness, swelling, and the appearance of small cracks or fissures at the corners of your mouth. These symptoms can be uncomfortable and may even cause pain or bleeding.

Effective treatment options for cracked lip corners involve addressing the underlying cause and providing relief from the symptoms. One common cause of cracked lip corners is a condition called angular cheilitis, which is often caused by a fungal or bacterial infection. Other potential causes include nutritional deficiencies, dehydration, allergic reactions, and excessive licking or biting of the lips.

By maintaining good oral hygiene, such as regularly brushing and flossing your teeth, you can reduce the risk of infection and promote healing. Additionally, applying a protective lip balm or ointment to keep the area moisturized can help alleviate dryness and prevent further cracking.

If the symptoms persist or worsen, it's important to seek medical advice for a proper diagnosis and treatment plan. Remember, taking care of your lips and addressing the root cause of cracked lip corners is key to finding relief and promoting healing.

Keep the Affected Area Clean and Moisturized

To keep the affected area clean and moisturized, you should follow a few simple steps at home. First and foremost, practice good hygiene by gently washing the affected area with a mild soap and warm water. Be sure to pat the area dry with a clean towel, avoiding any rubbing that may further irritate the cracked corners of your lips.

To prevent further cracking and promote healing, it's essential to keep the affected area moisturized. Look for lip balms or ointments containing ingredients like petroleum jelly or beeswax, as these help to create a protective barrier and lock in moisture. Apply the chosen product to the cracked corners of your lips several times a day, especially after meals and before going to bed.

In addition to lip balms, there are a few other preventive measures you can take. Avoid licking your lips, as saliva can further dry out the skin and worsen the cracking. Drink plenty of water throughout the day to stay hydrated, as dehydration can contribute to dryness and cracking.

It is also important to choose products that are specifically formulated for sensitive skin or lips. Look for lip balms that are fragrance-free, hypoallergenic, and dermatologist tested. This will help minimize the risk of further irritation and ensure that you're using products that are gentle on your skin.

Use Natural Remedies to Soothe and Heal Cracked Lip Corners

You can soothe and heal cracked lip corners using natural remedies. These remedies not only provide relief but also have healing properties that promote the repair of damaged skin.

One effective natural remedy is a DIY lip balm made with nourishing ingredients. To make your own DIY lip balm, start by melting two tablespoons of coconut oil in a microwave-safe bowl. Once melted, add one tablespoon of beeswax pellets and stir until fully combined. Next, add a few drops of essential oil, such as lavender or chamomile, for added soothing properties. Pour the mixture into small lip balm containers and allow it to cool and solidify.

Coconut oil and beeswax are both known for their moisturizing and protective properties. They help to lock in moisture and create a barrier against further damage. Essential oils like lavender and chamomile have anti-inflammatory properties that can help reduce redness and inflammation.

Apply this DIY lip balm to your cracked lip corners several times a day, especially before bed. The natural ingredients will nourish and soothe the skin, promoting healing and preventing further cracking.

Remember to keep your lips moisturized throughout the day by drinking plenty of water and using a natural lip balm without any harsh chemicals or fragrances. With consistent use, you'll soon notice your cracked lip corners healing and becoming smooth and healthy again.

Adopt Healthy Habits to Prevent Recurrence of Cracked Lip Corners

Maintain healthy habits to prevent cracked lip corners from recurring. Preventive measures and lifestyle changes can help ensure that your lips stay smooth and free from painful cracks.

First and foremost, it's important to stay hydrated by drinking plenty of water throughout the day. Dehydration can contribute to dryness and cracking of the lips.

Additionally, make sure to protect your lips from harsh weather conditions by using lip balm with SPF when you're outside. This will shield your lips from harmful UV rays and prevent them from becoming dry and chapped.

Furthermore, avoid licking your lips as saliva can actually worsen dryness and lead to cracking. Instead, apply a hydrating lip balm regularly to keep your lips moisturized.

Lastly, incorporate a healthy diet rich in vitamins and minerals, including foods like fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. These foods can nourish your lips from within and promote overall skin health.

Seek Professional Help if Home Remedies Don't Work

If your efforts to heal cracked lip corners at home have been unsuccessful, it may be time to seek professional help. While home remedies can often provide relief, some cases may require the expertise of a dermatologist. If you experience persistent or severe cracking of the lip corners that doesn't improve with self-care measures, it's advisable to consult a dermatologist.

A dermatologist specializes in diagnosing and treating skin conditions, including lip problems. They can assess the severity of your cracked lip corners, identify any underlying causes, and provide appropriate treatment options. They may prescribe medicated creams or ointments to help heal the cracks and reduce inflammation. In some cases, they may recommend additional tests to rule out any underlying medical conditions that may be contributing to the problem.

It is also important to establish a proper lip care routine to prevent the recurrence of cracked lip corners. This includes keeping your lips well-moisturized using lip balms or creams, avoiding excessive licking or biting of the lips, and protecting them from harsh environmental factors such as cold weather or excessive sun exposure. Maintaining good oral hygiene and staying hydrated can also contribute to the overall health of your lips.

Frequently Asked Questions

How Long Does It Usually Take for Cracked Lip Corners to Heal?

On average, cracked lip corners can take anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks to heal. There are effective home remedies that can speed up the healing process and provide relief.

Can Dry Weather or Certain Climates Contribute to the Development of Cracked Lip Corners?

Dry weather and certain climates can contribute to cracked lip corners. To prevent this, use lip balm regularly to keep your lips moisturized. Look for products with ingredients like beeswax or shea butter for extra hydration.

Are There Any Specific Foods or Drinks That Should Be Avoided to Prevent Cracked Lip Corners?

To prevent cracked lip corners, it's important to know what foods and drinks to avoid. Certain acidic foods like citrus fruits and spicy foods can irritate the skin. Stay hydrated and limit alcohol consumption.

Is It Normal for Cracked Lip Corners to Bleed or Become Infected?

Bleeding lips and infected corners are not normal and require attention. It's essential to identify the underlying cause and seek appropriate treatment to promote healing and prevent further complications.

Can Excessive Licking of the Lips Worsen Cracked Lip Corners?

Excessive lip licking can worsen cracked lip corners by further drying out the skin and causing irritation. To prevent this, try applying a moisturizing lip balm regularly and avoid licking your lips.

Conclusion

In conclusion, healing cracked lip corners at home can be achieved by:

Identifying the cause

Keeping the affected area clean and moisturized

Using natural remedies

Adopting healthy habits

It's important to address the underlying issue and maintain proper lip care to prevent recurrence. If home remedies don't provide relief, seeking professional help is recommended.

By following these steps, you can effectively treat cracked lip corners and promote overall lip health.

[wondipity]

mean

ʚɞ heeseung x fem! reader ʚɞ (slight) angst, fluff ʚɞ warnings: none! ʚɞ

(a/n): @heeliopheelia this probably isn't what you wanted but thanks for the idea !!

lee heeseung was scared. scared over how fucking cute you looked laying in bed wearing his flannel shirt. he knew he messed up today when he lashed out at you, yelling and calling you needy. it broke his heart watching you swallow back your tears and give him a shaky, obviously faked, smile.

so now he was going to do whatever to make it up to you.

“hi baby,” he said, laying down next to you and wrapping his arm around your waist. you just shrugged and pushed it off, causing a small crack in his heart. he hummed and placed his chin on your shoulder, watching you scowl and move away.

he watched, his gaze half lidded as you got out of the bed, grabbing a blanket and pillow before migrating to the living room, leaving him in bed with his arm over where you used to lay. now he really knew he messed up.

heeseung got out of the bed and followed you into the living room. there you were on the couch, huddled up in your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face in the dark light of the room. all heeseung wanted to do was jump on you and kiss you all over. but before he could do that he had to do something else first.

“hey,” he said, forcing a smile as he knelt down beneath you, placing his chin on the edge of the couch. you looked at him and the bambi eyes he was giving you before rolling your eyes and looking away, continuing your silent treatment. but from the corner of his eyes heeseung could see your lips twitch up into a soft smile.

“hey girl, what’s gotten you so upset?” heeseung said, watching as your eyes flickered to him. “well,” you began and heeseung’s heart raced as he got to hear your beautiful voice again. “my boyfriend has been a little bit mean to me today.” you said, smirking at heeseung’s wide eyes.

he gasped in faux surprise and gazed up at you, hiding the smile that was threatening to twitch through. “your boyfriend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your sad nod. “yeah, he’s being a real asshole nowadays and it’s breaking my heart.” you replied, bringing your hands up and making a gesture that signified your heart breaking.

heeseung felt like an asshole but still couldn’t hold back the smile that you brought to his face. “my he seems like a real jerk,” he said, grinning ear to ear. your eyebrows furrowed together as you gently slapped heeseung’s arm.

“hey!” you said in fake anger. “don’t insult my boyfriend like that, only i’m allowed to!” heeseung’s cheeks ached from smiling at how cute you were being. but he still needed to apologize.

“baby,” he said, standing up to loom over you. you hummed and closed your eyes, nestling your cheek into his palm as he cupped your face. “i’m sorry baby,” heeseung breathed, placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead. “i was stressed out and tired and shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that.”

you smile up at him and kiss his thumb. “it’s all good seungie, sorry for ignoring you.” heeseung couldn’t have cared less about that as he smiled, jumping into your arms and nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses there.

“i love you, my pretty baby,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the blanket that you were currently throwing around his tall frame. “i love you too,” you whispered into his ear, leaving a soft kiss there as you wrapped your arms around him.

“even if you are a little mean sometimes-”

“hey i said sorry!”

[babygirlwolverine]

dean’s problem with being down in the south during the summer was the heat.

stifling, suffocating, humid heat.

tugging at the collar of his tshirt, dean leaned his weight against the hood of the impala, hissing under his breath as the heat from the hood burned his palms. the shade from the trees was doing nothing to cut down on the unbearable thick heaviness of the hot air around him.

where the hell was cas? why was it taking him so long to get the artifact they needed for the case?

another 5 minutes ticked by, and dean contemplated going after cas, but thought better of it when he remembered the last time he’d tried to go in and help cas. the angel had given him the silent treatment for 2 hours in the car afterwards because dean’s interruption had caused the vampire in question to flee.

“god damn heat,” dean muttered to himself.

fuck it. if he had to be stood out here waiting for cas, he wasn’t going to pass out from heat stroke.

grabbing the collar of his shirt, dean tugged it up and over his head; sighing in relief as the sticky material of his shirt was free. it was only a temporary fix, but it felt good. he threw the shirt into the backseat of the impala through the open window, before settling back against the hood.

closing his eyes, dean tipped his head back and debated if he should buy bottles of water just to tip down his chest to cool off.

finally, after more painfully long minutes had passed, a ruffle of material made dean crack an eye open and he caught sight of cas.

the angel seemed to be frozen, stood several feet away from dean with a surprised look in his eyes; staring at dean in shock.

“took you long enough, angel,” dean said, shaking the tension from his shoulders as he pushed himself off of the hood of the car. “I’m dying out here, it’s way too hot to just be standing around.”

dean moved towards the drivers side, ready to get the ac running and find some water to cool off with. but cas hadn’t moved a muscle, still rooted to the spot he’d been in.

“earth to cas. did you get the artifact?”

cas seemed to vibrate for a second before his gaze moved from dean’s chest up to his eyes. “yes.”

“great, then let’s go. I know angels don’t break a sweat, but i’m cookin’ over here,” dean said, opening the car door and dropping uncomfortably into the drivers seat, his skin sticking to the leather.

cas finally moved, settling into the passenger seat. it wasn’t long before cas was staring again, his eyes glued to the way the sweat dripped down dean’s shoulder and onto his chest.

“what?” dean asked, tilting his head to glance at cas before he turned the ignition and the ac kicked in.

cas paused, licked his lips, and then turned his head away. “nothing,” the angel replied, gruff and deep.

but as they hit the road, windows rolled down to let the breeze into the car, dean could’ve sworn cas was staring at him again from the corner of his eyes.

only then did dean realize… he’d never put his shirt back on.

for @winchester-reload hotsummerart: hot

[polarisjisung]

SILENT TREATMENT

synopsis: your boyfriend broke some guy's nose for you, but what he doesn't realise is he also broke his promise to you

wc: 0.9k

pairings: bf!jeno x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mention of blood like once (feel the need to mention I don't want to romanticise violence 💀)

notes: jeno lee is driving me insane.

Jeno doesn't like it, the silence. He liked to hear you ramble about nonsensical things, the sound of your awkward chatter filling the room, not the incessant pattering of rain against the roof above.

That's the first sign, he figures

On most days, you'd warn him before pressing an alcohol soaked cotton swab against his wounds, delicately pressing down on his jaw with a worried stare. Today you grip his chin firmly, tilting his head upwards and swiping over the cut less gently than before.

That's the second.

The air is cold coming in through the open bathroom window, the dim lighting not sufficient for him to make out your features, when you step a little further away, but still just enough for him to notice the way your nostrils flare and you bite at your lip when reaching for the antiseptic gel kept in the cupboard to your right.

Three of three, he thinks, and jeno comes to the only valid conclusion there is.

Your usually talkative, enthusiastic, and bubbly self now so cold and stand offish, it only meant one thing, something you could argue the lee found entertaining judging by the innocent smile on his lips.

"Are you angry at me?"

A glare is the only response jeno gets.

Not angry enough to leave him to tend to his own wounds, he figures, so really just how angry could you be?

"ow, it hurts" he whines cautiously, taking ahold of your hand as it passes over the deep red, bloody incision in his bicep— which by the way, was doing nothing to help you maintain your rage.

your eyes, however, don't widen, and your lips don't move forward into a pout, you don't react.

nothing except pulling your hand back.

maybe you were a little angrier than he thought.

"silent treatment huh?" he seems amused, a short chuckles escaping his busted lip as you  disinfect the wound, the laugh echoing through the room.

You couldn't stay mad at him, not for long at least, jeno knew that much, so despite watching you walk away to replace the first aid kit just where you found it, ready to use the next time jeno got himself like this, he knows he hasn't got a thing to worry about

Equally, you know jeno just as well, and you know that walking anywhere in his reach would end in you wrapped up in his arms, being showered with soft sweet apologetic kisses like always

Only you both realise your phone is left forgotten on the counter beside him, and if bothering your boyfriend after a long day wasnt on your list of things to do, scrolling for unnecessarily long hours through twitter certianly was.

In hopes to outsmart him you try and lunge to grab the device, only to find yourself in the very position you imagined, lee jeno's strong arms wrapped around your waist, sweet brown eyes staring back.

"can't run now can you baby?"

You scoff, only managing to turn your face away from his— getting uncaged from his arms was far beyond you.

Jeno let's his head fall into the crook of your neck, your floral perfume overtaking the medicinal smell in the air as he pecks the corner of your lips, slowly tracing your jawline with soft kisses until you finally turn to face him again.

"I'm sorry" he whispers, calloused, bruised hands holding your chin with utmost tenderness. The rough skin of his thumb traces over your lower lip, a soft kiss placed there once again.

"you said you wouldn't"

jeno pauses, confused.

"you promised you would stop"

the desperate tone in your voice is clear as day, and it doesn't take jeno much longer to realise, this wasn't about what he'd done, it was about what he'd said he wouldn't do

the cracks in your shaky voice are enough for the bitter taste of guilt to bubble in his stomach and rise to the tip of his tongue, your glossy eyes staring back, disappointed

"I'm sorry" he sighs, eyebrows furrowing as he stares down at you, "I'm so so sorry my sweet girl."

The hair messily sprawled across your forehead is pushed to the side by his index finger, an apologetic kiss pressed to your temple. Jeno's hand is placed at the crown of your head, soothingly passing his fingers through your hair when you're pulled forwards into his chest, resting your arms at his side as you let your weight fall onto him.

"Please, don't get hurt because of me" your hands reach for his, and jeno realises you're asking him once again, to promise he wouldn't do it—this time he doesn't know if he can.

"I can't stand it." his tone differs from the sweet one he uses with you, or the mocking one he'd taken on earlier, now he spits harsh words at the floor, eyes rolling instinctively. "those scumbags talking about my pretty girl like that."

you notice the way his fist tightens, the plasters you'd just placed over his knuckles slipping off his skin in seconds.

"if you can fight them for me" with a cold hand against his cheek, you reach up to guide his eyes back to meet yours, "can't you, not, fight them for me too?"

he smiles— you giggle, the very man who'd just taken on another 2 guys almost twice his size just a few minutes ago now looked at you with a wide grin and two crescent moons in place of his eyes.

"I'll try" and suddenly you wear a smile just as wide as his "I'd do anything for you"

You don't doubt it.

[reiding-writing]

could you pretty please write something where spencer visits unsub!reader and she’s incredibly beat up and only responding in slurs and spencer’s like wtf why has no one taken her to the doctor

THE GUARDS’ HEAVY HANDS

spencer & gn!unsub!reader | 1.3k | unsub!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n— unsub!reader is in remission babyyy

WARNINGS | reader has been on the receiving end of physical violence from prison guards without medical treatment.

Four days until the board of appeals made their decision.

Four days until you would know if you truly were going to spend the rest of your life inside a concrete box or be moved to a psychiatric facility and have your psychology picked and prodded at by doctors.

You’ve been ‘visited’ almost every day over the last week, half of your singular recreational hour spent talking to some stupid appeal board official every day for the last multiple days.

You were sick of it.

You knew that they were only bothering you in the hope you’d crack, that you’d say something that could condemn you to your solitary hell and save them the effort and money in placing you in proper psychiatric care.

But you refused to placate them. You refused to let your seething frustration manifest verbally or physically, no matter how much you wanted to.

Four days. That’s all you had to last.

They weren’t making it easy though. Of course they weren’t. Because why would anything in your life ever be easy?

No. Instead you were questioned on the same mundane topics over and over by the officials, dragged harshly from meeting to meeting by the guards, and subjected to torment whenever there was a minuscule break in the monotony.

Your most recent ‘accident’ involved one of the guards shutting the food hatch whilst you still had your hand in it.

‘Accident’, because it definitely wasn’t one, and now you were dealing with a fractured index finger on top of all of the other shit that is making you want to rip your hair out.

Although you couldn’t do that either, considering you had a sizeable bruise spreading over your left temple and onto the side of your head after you’d been pushed straight into one of the phone boxes as an encouragement for you to pick it up.

It was bordering a black eye a few days ago, a mulled purple mark that stretched through your eyebrow and mottled your eyelid, but it was slowly turning green, and it’d stopped hurting now. For the most part anyway.

No use crying over spilt milk. Or a possible concussion.

There’s a sharp bang on your cell door from the side of a fist to garner your attention, along with the grating metal on metal sound as the food hatch slides open.

“Up you get freak, you’ve got a visitor.”

Another stupid visitor.

Another half an hour spend enduring the most relentlessly idiotic questions and torment of your life that you literally had to bite your tongue to stop yourself replying to and dumping all of your progress down the drain.

“Oi!” Another sharp bang. “Didn’t you hear me? Get your ass up!”

“I’m coming—” You bite back the groan that threatens to echo in your tone, muttering a curse under your breath as you’re all but dragged from your cell and thrust down the corridor into the visitor’s room.

Every minute you spent sat at that stupid concrete table in those stupid handcuffs that were way too tight made you want to rip your own hair out, or anyone’s in a five metre radius.

Four days. Then you could forget about this damn appeal and give your ‘handlers’ a piece of your goddamn mind.

And then the door opens.

“Doctor Reid,” You almost sound surprised as you pick up the visitor’s phone. “What brings you here?”

Spencer adjusted his satchel, his gaze fixed on the table where you sat, hands cuffed, a rough bruise blooming along your cheekbone. There was a fresh cut on your lip, a bit of dried blood near the corner of your mouth. The sight made his stomach twist.

He sat down slowly, his brow knitting with concern as he took in the other injuries: your knuckles scraped raw, the angry red welts visible just beneath the collar of your prison jumpsuit.

He was used to violence, certainly, but seeing it on you, someone he considered something close to a… friend, or whatever it was, made him tense with anger.

You didn’t look at him any differently despite it all. When he met your gaze, your expression was flat. Detached, indifferent. He could still tell you’d been through hell though, and as much as he hated it, he hated it. "What happened?" he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you just blinked, and then that small sliver of intrigue disappears from your irises to be replaced with distaste.

You scoffed, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like you were slurring, words broken, as if the energy it took to have a full conversation was almost too much.

Spencer leaned his elbows onto the table, his heart hammering. "Did they hurt you?" he asked. "The guards… have they been—?"

You interrupted with a barely audible sneer, tossing out a curse that barely registered as coherent. A string of profanity. You spat them out, each word slower and more incoherent than the last.

"Is anyone taking care of you here? Any doctors?" Reid asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

You laughed, a hollow sound that sent chills down his spine. "Doctors," you scoffed. "Sure. Lots of those. Right after the love they give with their fists."

Spencer's jaw clenched. "Has anyone done anything about this? Filed a complaint?"

Another empty laugh. “Who’s going to report them, huh? Me?” you muttered, the words broken by gasps of pain. “And who’s gonna do anything about it?”

The part of Spencer that had learned to remain neutral, clinical, started to unravel. This was wrong. Whatever you had done in your past, this treatment wasn’t justice; it was plain cruelty.

He glanced back toward the door, contemplating the confrontation he wanted to have with the prison staff. But he knew what would happen—they’d brush it off, say you were exaggerating, a troublemaker who’d gotten what you deserved. And maybe they’d even be right… but he couldn’t ignore the bruises, the hollow look in your eyes.

Spencer reached across the table, his fingers brushing the cold plexiglass between you in what’s an almost subconscious want to wipe the blood stain from your mouth. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try to get someone to check on you.”

You met his eyes again, expression clouded. He could see that behind the apathy, some tiny part of you was surprised. Maybe even grateful.

“Why do you even care?”

Spencer swallowed, the weight of the question settling over him. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. “But I do.”

You watched him in silence, as if searching his face for a reason, an answer he couldn’t give. Then, a flicker of something softened your gaze—just for a moment, like the smallest fracture in a stone wall. You’d probably deny it later, but he saw it. A spark of relief, of trust, maybe.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get through to you, not completely. But he could try. And that would be enough.

“So, uh,” Spencer fiddles with the phone cord between his fingers. “How are you feeling, about the appeal?”

And you deflate all over again.

[redcoralpot]

Eleganti - Poly!Stuilly x FTM!Reader

If you saw this before it was reposted, no you didn't.

Warnings: Implied internalized homophobia.

Summary: The heat has managed to affect all of you, and the only solution? A date at Stu's house with a dash of nail polish. You're sure they were both thrilled.

-

The summer heat truly had gotten to the three of you, with not even a cool breeze to give you relief. Rich boy Stu Macher’s parents were away for the weekend, again, which left his house the ideal place to take shelter in. If you had to be honest, you did not mind the temperature– kind of. The bottles of nail polish in your bag clinked together as you walked up the stairs; you knew Billy would be able to sit still long enough for it to dry. Stu, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure of. Not without heat and plenty of air flow.

Speaking of the devil, Billy glanced up from his book as you creaked the door open, leisurely spread on Stu’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at your appearance, before going back to reading, shifting a little to the side so you had more room to sit down. A smug grin slowly spread over your lips as you set your backpack down on the bed and unzipped it, making a show of the little, colorful bottles you displayed inside. You scooched beside it, and after setting down a towel in front of you, cracked open the first container.

Seeming to catch the smell, Billy spoke up, “Nail polish?”

“Yeah, want some?” He watched as you meticulously picked the colors you wanted, his mouth pursing.

“Not right now.”

You shrugged, applying a lavender base to your fingernails, “Suit yourself!”

Your hand flinched as the door was shoved open, smearing the liquid down your skin, only to be greeted by the eccentric figure of Stu. Upon seeing the predicament he caused, he bounced his shoulders and held up his hands beside his head, with an exaggerated frown. 

“Uh… whoops!”

He sauntered over, pressing his face into your shoulder. In response, you slapped the towel onto his face after wiping the spilled polish on the material. Stu grumbled something; it was ineligible. 

It eventually slid off on its own, with a little help from the teen shaking his head, “Suffocate me, why don’t you?”

Chuckling, you said, “You were the one who made me mess up, tough guy.”

“I totally meant for that to happen.” He slipped his arm over you, hanging like a sloth.

“If you meant it, then you have to be my test subject!”

Stu made a noise, contemplating. You wouldn’t force him to wear it, of course, but it was funny threatening something so harmless anyway. After just a few seconds, you felt the weight on your back release; Stu had moved in favor of shoving your bag into Billy to make space for himself. Then, the noodle of a guy flopped across from you, sitting criss-crossed with the most shit eating grin you have ever seen. Billy scowled at the rough treatment, but the expression was covered by the other’s knee.

He leaned forward, “Gimme orange.”

“Good choice!”

To prevent smearing, you blew on your covered nails as best you could, before bright orange coated the tiny brush in your hand. Stu seemed giddy as you took his hand, peering down, applying the cool liquid with precision. It was such a contrast to what his hand felt like; rough and as warm as a furnace. In the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s eyes watching over Stu’s jeans, his book long forgotten. Finally, you finished, and allowed the fidgety boy to hold up his palms. His eyes were wide as he admired your handiwork, flexing his fingers with pride.

Stu tapped the top of Billy’s head with his elbow, “Hey, dude, want some of this?”

“Hm.”

“C’mon—”

“Black.”

You snickered, “I knew you’d crack.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned on Stu, holding out a hand. He shivered when you made a slight mistake, and gave you an unimpressed look as you fixed it with the edge of your towel. You could only complete one hand before he stopped you.

“Look who’s gonna be Cruella this Halloween!” Stu sneered, poking the other’s nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You shut the bottle, carefully sealing them all back in your bag, “Fuddy duddy William could be making a new trend.”

“Never call me that again. Is this enough for you two?”

Stu cocked his head, “Lemme think… nope.”

You stretched your body out, setting your belongings on the ground. Opening Stu’s own closet, you ran your fingers over the variety of shirts and robes the guy had. In the very back, there was a band shirt, obviously too small for Stu; he grew out of it by the time he was sixteen. You held it out, studying it, before shrugging and taking it off the hanger. Your shirt flew over your head and smacked Stu in the face, but the air soothed the sweat that was gathering under your double sport bras, at least for a moment. Then, the newer shirt covered everything back up, and the dark material banned anyone from clocking the extra layers underneath.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” you suggested.

Stu pumped his fist, even though your shirt was still clinging to his body. Billy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips when Stu ran out the door, presumably to get his car keys. You, on the other hand, hesitated when you saw a shadow underneath the shirt, where your chest lay. The only other boy left in the room must have caught on, because you felt a passing hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“You look fine, it’s normal.”

He met your gaze. However, someone was getting impatient, as a muffled shout rang through the closed window, “Coming? I’m totally getting pistachio this time, and you gotta be here to see me try it!”

-

[shelbgrey]

✨Pookie Bear✨

I’m watching more Bridgerton episodes😏🫣 could you perchance conjure me up a absolutely down bad foaming at the mouth steamy Anthony fic 🤤☺️

The feeling of nature (Anthony Bridgerton)

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Warrings: SMUT, choking kink, rough sex, slight public sex(no one sees or hears), fucking against a tree, possession kink? Unprotected sex.

MasterList ML2

Anthony and I were in the midst of silent treatment after an argument. This was when our pettiness really showed, we'd stay silent and at the same time tease each other till the other one cracks.

Tonight was no different even when our usual family dinner rolls around the corner. The family could sense something happened, but didn't bat an eye. They were used to us being childish towards each other and they stopped asking what happened because we'd just call it another ‘incident’.

It was still eerily silent at the table. It was until Benedict made a comment “Anthony what did you do to y/n?”

Anthony coughs on his wine and then looks at me from across the table, waiting for a smart-ass comment. I didn't say anything though which made Anthony roll his eyes.

Anthony’s mother, Violet, frowns. We have always been so fond of each other, her being such an amazing mother figure and also taking my side in most situations involving my husband. It was no surprise her facial expression is disapproving of Anthony's coldness. “I don't understand why you taunt y/n so much”

An amused smirk appears on Anthony’s lips. “I promise nothing serious happened, mother. Just a small inconvenience”

“If you want to call it that,” I reached under the table and placed my hand on the inside of his thigh and squeezed it teasingly to get a rise out of him. I felt Anthony tenses. He’s trying to be calm and put together. His hand moved under the table, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist to stop me from going up any further.

“Seriously, what happened?” Benedict asked.

“Ask your dimwitted brother,” I told him. I was comfortable enough with the Bridgerton family that I could say things like that.

Benedict nearly snorts, trying to hold back a laughter behind his hand. Penelope lets out a small laugh, and Colin laughs loudly.

Anthony looks at me with a glare. “Watch yourself love. I’m still your husband.”

“Oh! He speaks” I said in a sarcastic, surprised tone which earned me another glare from Anthony while his entire family laughed.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my neck. “Keep it up and you’ll pay for it later, love.” He mutters in my ear.

“Oh, will I?” I slid my hand up his thigh higher, rubbing him through his pants. His hand quickly grabbed mine, tightening around my wrist.

“Damnit, not now.” Anthony grunts. Everyone is in a cheerful mood laughing and chatting, meanwhile Anthony is struggling hard. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning when my hand went higher.

my hand inched up high to where the button of his pants were, I was about to test my luck when Elois spoke up. “how about a game of pall mall after dinner?”

“That's a good idea” I said, subtly brushing my fingers over his groin through his pants from under the table.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful” Anthony grunts, trying to sound normal. He catches my hand, before I can do it again with a glint in his eyes.

“Ready to lose again, darling?” I asked, not really being specific on what he was gonna lose too.

Anthony’s face turns a shade darker. He knew exactly what I was implying, he always knew and he wasn't happy about it. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.

Not phased by the warning in his eyes, I put pressure on his clothed cock, rubbing him harder when I felt him growing harder under my palm while he tried to maintain his dignity. He can barely breathe as I felt his arousal growing by the second under my palm. He squeezes my hand warningly, but it only seems to make him grow harder.

“Perhaps we should go out and start the game before it gets dark,” Colin suggested. I gave Anthony a gentle squeeze then released my hand from his lap when everyone started to get up from the table.

I watched Anthony reluctantly stand up, adjusting himself discreetly as he followed everyone out to the lawn. He can barely think straight with the ache in his groin. He glances back at me, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and desire. He mouths a silent warning, but he knows it’s useless.

I smiled at him, faking my innocents in the situation as we followed the rest of the family outside. I found arousing the way he clenches his jaw, trying to calm himself down while giving me a look that said he didn't know if he wanted to strangle me or kiss me. I wouldn't be disappointed either way.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

We went out to the lawn and the siblings were arguing over the mallets like usual. Anthony watches the argument unfold, I feel his gaze flicking back to me every so often. He’s finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the game as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his cock. He sighs in annoyance.

I got tired of the arguing and playfully shoved my way in between Colin and Benedict. “as the future viscountess I shall pick the mallet first.” Before any of my in-laws could protest I snatched the black mallet aka the 'mallet of death'. It was also Anthony's lucky mallet and the one he often threatened to break fingers for. I gave Anthony a smirk and rested it on my shoulder.

Anthony’s eye twitches, watching me claim his lucky mallet. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance widening as he leans back on his heels. “You’re playing with fire, love” He growls under his breath, loud enough for only me to hear.

I sighed softly and nodded, faking sympathy. “this is your favorite one after all” I held it out for him.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked on the mallet. I could tell it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to snatch it back. He reaches out…

I quickly snatched it back before he could touch it “oop, too slow... I'm using the mallet of death” I turned my back and walked to the first mark, leaving the pink mallet for Anthony.

Anthony’s face turns a shade darker as he watches me walk away with his precious mallet. He looks at the pink mallet in his hand, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I made a point to stand in front of him when it was my turn. Moving my hips more, intentionally teasing him as I took my shot. I could feel Anthony's eyes locked on my body, his control slipping, the heat in his chest and groin growing more intense by the second. He grits his teeth, his hand tightening around the pink mallet.

I hit my ball and it rolled, going through the first mark, gaining me a point. I smirked at Anthony and walked past him, making a point to brush my hand over his hip, making his breath hitch. “Your turn darling” I teased as I walked over and stood next to Benedict.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he steps up to take his shot. His form is slightly off, his frustration making him careless.

“Oh, you missed” Colin chuckled.

Anthony glares at Colin, then at me. “This is your fault,” he growls under his breath. He watches as Benedict takes his turn, his eyes narrowed, his expression stormy. When it's finally my turn again, he stalks over.

I kept In mind one of the rules that allowed us to play dirty. Before Anthony made it over to me, I used my ball and hit Anthony's deep into the garden and far away from the next mark. Anthony's eyes widen in outrage as he watches his ball fly across the garden, completely useless now. He whipped his head towards me, his face red. “You little-” He starts, but is cut off.

“Play it where it lies, brother” Benedict snickered.

Anthony's jaw clenches, his hand gripped his mallet. He knows he can't protest, not when Benedict is reminding him of the rules. With a snarl, he turns and marches across the garden, his long legs carrying him quickly towards his stray ball.

Me and Benedict laughed. Then it was Colin's turn. My smirk dropped when the sneaky bastard launched my ball in the same direction as Anthony's “Damnit, colin!” I groaned, marching in the same direction Anthony was, looking for my ball.

As I entered the back of the garden me and him spotted my ball at the same time. He smirked and deliberately stepped on it, hiding it beneath his boot. He looks up, seeing the annoyance in my eyes.

“Give me the ball” I sighed.

Anthony raises an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He leans down and picks up my ball, holding it just out of reach. “I think not,” he says smoothly. “You'll have to pay the price for your earlier transgressions.”

“What? Can't handle a little teasing?” I asked in a challenging tone.

Anthony's face darkens, his expression dark and daring. “You know that's not the issue,” he growls. “Now, come and get the ball if you dare”

Not backing down, I march over to him leaving very little space between us. I gave him a daring glare, ignoring the fact he easily towered over me.

Anthony's eyes flash dangerously, a fire igniting within him. He holds his gaze with mine, his grip tightening around my ball. “Last chance to back down”

“Never”

Anthony's eyes had a hint of admiration in his before they go dark with desire. “Very well,” he murmurs. Throws the ball to who knows where and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground as My legs wrapped around his waist. my hands weaved through the dark locks of his hair as our lips locked against each other roughly and hungrily.

Anthony groans as His strong arms wrap around my thighs, holding me up with ease as he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue across my bottom lip.

I teased him, denying his tongue entry. Anthony groaned, carrying me towards a nearby tree, his kisses growing more demanding and possessive as. He reaches the tree and presses my body against the trunk, his body pinning mine in place. “Open your mouth, y/n,” he commands, his voice husky with desire. “Now.”

I moaned, my lips parting as my back pressed against the tree. Anthony doesn't waste his opportunity, his tongue wrestling with mine in a heated battle. I moaned against his lips as he pressed me harder against the tree, his free hand reaching up to wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to remind me who was in charge. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my lips. “Mine,”

I gripped his hair and grinded against him, making Anthony's hand tightens slightly around my throat. He held me in place against the tree with his free hand. He grinds his hips against mine, the hardness of his erection pressing against me. “Look at me,” he demands, his voice low and commanding.

My eyes shot up, my breath hitched and my heart pounded against my chest. Anthony's eyes bore into mine, his face inches away as he grinds against our hips together once more. “Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you're mine.” His hand around my throat flexes gently, forcing a moan from my lips.

“Make me” I dared.

The word barely left my lips before Anthony's grip on my throat tightens. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear, making me shiver as he spoke in a dangerous whisper. “As you wish, my love”

I let out a squeal at the unexpected moment, he turned me around, making me face the tree. I placed my hands on the wood, bracing myself as I felt his hard cock press against my ass. Anthony's hands run down my arms. “Keep your hands here,” he orders, his voice low and authoritative. He trails his fingers down my back and up my thighs, his hand removing the lower half of my clothes. “And no more talking back”

“No promises” I said breathlessly.

Anthony growls softly against my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he quickly unbuttoned his pants. He pushes them down enough for his cock to slip out. His hands then glided down over my backside. He grips my hips tightly, pulling my body back against his. “No more words”

I moaned softly, my head falling back against his shoulder, pleasure shooting through my body. Anthony's hips begin to move, his thick cock thrusting into me as he grinded against my ass. He groans as he fucks me against the tree, forcing moans and other sounds to leave my mouth. His hand leaves my hip to reach around and wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to keep me silent. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

“A-Anthony” I moaned desperately, my breath quickened and my brain went blank as I felt every inch of him push in and out at a ruthless, intoxicating pace.

His grip on my throat tightens, muffling my desperate moans as he continues to pound into me against the tree. His breath is hot against my neck, his voice a low growl as he speaks. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is low, commanding, demanding an answer.

“Y-you” I moaned softly.

“That's right, love.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust. As the pleasure builds within him, Anthony loosens his grip on my throat, letting me breathe again as he continues to push into me with an almost ruthless momentum.

I moaned louder, reaching behind me and tugging at his hair when he buried his face into my neck and bucked his hips forward with increased urgency. “You like that, love?” He hisses, his voice tight with restraint. “You like when I bury myself inside you?”

“Fuck!” I moaned desperately, the bark of the tree digging into my skin as he thrusted harder against me, caging me in between the piece of nature and his body. “yes!”

Anthony grunts, his hips grinding against mine as he fills my entrance up completely. The bark of the tree digging deeper into my skin. I didn't care, what Anthony was doing felt way too good to stop. I arch my back into Anthony's hard body.

“A-Anthony!” I moaned desperately. I couldn't think of anything but him, the knot in my stomach tightened. “I'm c-close” my breath hitched and arched my hips back against him.

Anthony's arms wrap around me tightly, his hands gripping my hips possessively as he pistons in and out, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the air. “Come for me, y/n,” he growls, his voice laced with dominance. “Show me who you belong to”

“Anthony!” the control I had snapped, my eyes fluttered closed and my head fell back in pleasure against his shoulder as my climax hit me like a train.

“Fuck, Darling” Anthony groans loudly, his hips snapping forward as he chases after his own release. My body clenched around him,making him shudder and groan with pleasure as he emptied himself inside me.

His arms tighten around me as I relax against his body. Anthony continues to thrust into me a few more times, milking the last bits of pleasure from both of us. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Mine” he murmurs possessively.

“Y-yours” I moaned softly.

Anthony presses a soft kiss against my neck. I let out a small moan as he slowly pulled out. His hands gently turned my body around and steadied me when I felt my legs threaten to give out. He cups my face, kissing me deeply before pressing his forehead against mine. “You okay, love?” His voice is soft now, gentle. He brushes my hair from my face, his touch tender. “Not too rough?” He asks, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, it was perfect” I smiled lazily.

Anthony's lips tugged into a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good.” He leans in, gently kissing me, before resting his forehead against mine once more. His hand tightened around my waist. “Shall we head back now?”

“Probably should... Before they come looking for us” I said softly.

Anthony chuckles darkly. “True. Wouldn't want them to find out what we've been up to.” He takes my hand, helping me straighten out my clothes before leading me back towards the back yard where the family was finishing the game, his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

[sexlapis]

my baby, my baby…

୨ৎ toji x reader

gender neutral!reader, reader is having a difficult time ;(, talks of depression, anxiety, nausea & headaches, soft!toji

wc: 1.4k

a/n: been feeling down & blue lately… craving the comfort of big man 💭🧸

masterlists

*

relief floods you as you walk into your cosy house, abruptly dropping your bag on the floor carelessly and throwing off your uncomfortable shoes. a tired and weak sigh leaves your mouth as you plod in the living room.

there is a weight of a long day that rests heavy on your shoulders, the tendons of your muscles wound up tight, as is the nauseous pit in your lower stomach.

the superficial, constant chatter with your colleagues and clients, having to skip lunch due to how busy it was, the never ending feeling of isolation and loneliness even around so many other people, the confining feeling of businesswear, the everyday stress, how everyone relied on your contributions that you believe to be insignificant and trivial, the now growing headache at the back of your head…

you are exhausted.

sadly for you, your anxious nature likes to make itself known all throughout your whole entire body, most commonly burying itself in your stomach and intestine, morphing into faux sickness and nausea that no amount of pressure point massages or medicine could solve.

you are exhausted.

this behaviour of yours has been going on for the past two months and toji, your sweet and observant husband, has obviously taken notice.

he notices your dark circles and eyebags, your more drowsy and slow demeanour, the irritableness, the skin-picking to the point of blood drawn and the hair pulling. to say toji is worried would be an understatement.

he is being more gentle with you, you can tell. it’s like he’s walking on…eggshells around you, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case you blow up or have a meltdown.

you’re not a fan of such treatment even though you are aware that if he acted in any other way, you probably would have snapped by now.

toji asks if you are okay, if you need anything, if you want anything.

and you. you say no and proceed with your picture perfect daily routine of meditation, journaling, exercise, consuming a healthy breakfast, diligently working your job and going to sleep at a normal time.

yet none of these are able to quell the hollow in the depth of your organs, the same hollow that runs through your veins, your arteries and right to your very core.

you fall onto the couch and lay your body across it, sinking into the softness and resting your head down on a pillow.

now, after this shitty day, you just want to cuddle with your big, protective husband who you love dearly.

your phone vibrates against your leg and you snatch quickly despite your enervation, wishing the notification to be a message from toji. toji will make this all better.

unfortunately, nothing about your day seems to be going to plan.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you read over toji’s message.

toji🐻🩷

gonna be back really late dont stay awake for me

a frustrated snarl escapes from your lips and you’re flinging your phone across the room in a fit of fury, that is quickly replaced with sadness.

your shoulders shake and you cover your mouth to hold in your loud sobs, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and cheek, soaking the pillow you lay on.

even in the sanctuary of your home, loneliness does not elude you at all.

the pounding in your head eased slightly, just enough for you to find repose as the past weeks finally catch up with you and you fall into a deep sleep.

*

toji enters the house around ten thirty at night. he cracks his neck, removes his shoes and places his rucksack on a nearby chair. his foot catches on something and he stumbles before regaining his balance, hissing in annoyance and looking back sharply to glare at whatever tripped him up.

your work shoes.

he looks around on the floor and sees your bag on the floor nearby.

that’s odd of you. you do not usually leave a mess on the floor, especially in the doorway.

toji huffs. “‘the hell…”

he hangs up his jacket on the coat rack and walks in the living room, where he then finds you, asleep on the couch.

it makes toji sigh. he told you not to wait for him. so why did you so clearly do just that?

*

you feel yourself being shaken back and forth by the shoulder and toji quietly calling out your name.

“_____…_____, wake up…”

you groan, blinking your eyes open. the dryness of your throat, the cracked skin of your lips and the drool smeared on your cheek is enough to tell you that you’ve been asleep for quite some time.

toji is back. it must be ten at night by now, and you arrived home at five.

you had been asleep for five hours.

toji sits on the couch next to where you thighs are, the seat dipping with his weight and places a hand on your waist, “_____, i told you to go to bed and not wait up, didn’t i?”

you sit up and lick your dry lips, trying to find your words. you look down and fiddle with your fingers, picking at your skin, “no, i…i didn’t..i didn’t,” you interrupt yourself with a long yawn, “i didn’t wait for you..jus’ fell asleep.”

“fell asleep, huh? in your work clothes and on the couch? _____, you never do that.”

a hum from you is the response he gets and silence falls thereafter.

toji takes this moment to scan you over.

the deep lines of fatigue under your eyes, the frown on your lips, the dullness in your once vibrant complexion, the newfound slowness of your movements, the lost look in your eyes..

you were not looking too good.

“hey,” he says softly, ducking his head a little to get a look at your downtilted face, “you okay? what’s wrong? please just tell me.”

the concern and tenderness in his voice flood your eyes with tears, and you whimper, “everything…everything is just fucking shit.”

a hiccuped sob leaves you as you start to really cry again, all of your pent up emotions coming to surface and you let it all out.

and toji is cooing at you, shocked at your sudden weeping but swiftly wrapping his arms around you and scooping you into his lap, “oh, baby…”

you bawl into his work uniform as he cradles you in his lap, nuzzling his face into the top of your head while rocking himself back and forth, calming you down with sweet “sh, sh, shh ‘s” and “i know, i know ‘s”.

the tension in your body lessens with each tear that rolls down your face, the release of emotions overwhelms yet relaxes you all at once.

toji strokes your head and back, calming your erratic, hefty breaths and your quick heartbeat until your weeps gradually turn into sniffles and your whimpers turn into sad hums.

it’s quiet for a while as you settle with toji’s help.

toji is still caressing your soft hair when he speaks again, “‘that feel better?”

“…mhm.”

“okay.”

a beat of silence falls over the two of you, the only sound being the crisp crackle of the fireplace and your heavy breathing.

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment at your emotional breakdown.

this was all your fault, anyway. if you had spoken to somebody about your feelings and had been honest with toji from the beginning, then this would not have happened. but that’s just the special thing about you. bottling up all of your emotions, letting the water and waves rise until the dam cracks and bursts open, destroying everything in its path including yourself.

“sorry…i’m sorry,” you garble tearfully, “i should’ve..should’ve said something sooner…”

“don’t be dumb, ‘s fine.”

toji fushiguro, the comforter you are.

toji isn’t the most gentle or sensitive man, but he’s him. he’s toji, broken and scarred and soft toji and that’s all that matters to you.

you nuzzle into his broad neck, inhaling the now soothing scent of smoke, cigarettes and rubber.

the safety, reassurance and protection you feel while in his arms was immense and nothing compared to it. knowing toji will always have your back and will always be there for and never judge makes you feel a little worse for not telling him about your issues. toji understands.

“y’know we’re gonna have to talk about this, right? no more keeping this shit to yourself.” toji asks.

“yeah,” you sigh, already dreading the looming but necessary conversation, “yes, i know.”

“but we can do it another day. ‘think someone needs some medicine and some food. and good nights sleep in a bed,” he squints his eyes as he looks down at you, making you cower. you’re definitely not saying no to that, “how does some takeout sound?”

warmth rushes through your chest as you stare at his love-filled eyes and how the orange light flickers across his face, which holds a tender expression. you feel better already.

“yeah, that sounds good toji.”

a/n: i luv toji <33

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, minor political/bau issues mentioned/talked about, smut eluded to. We've come back to the chapters that jump through moments in time! This is also the time that you read this, then skim through the series and see if you can pick up on the foreshadowing cause next chapter is what it was leading up to lol. I'm going to crack down and fly through as many chapters in a row of this series while writing and queue them for once a week. LMK if that timeline seems okay or if it should be more frequent or less, I wanna continue that habit for new series!

Heather was seated at one of the window side tables at Peacock Alley inside the Waldorf, a coffee and a bloody mary in front of her while she looked through the menu. Her gaze drifted out the window, wondering if she was there too early, if you were running behind or if it was a combination of both. Just as she was about to check her phone for both the time and conformation, she spotted what she was sure was your car pulling up to the valet.

Sure enough, you slipped out of it, passing the keys and a wad of cash over to the worker with a sweet smile before tossing your bag onto your arm and making your way to the hotel entrance. Her head tilted in confusion but before she could really get lost in her thoughts you had rounded the corner into the lobby restaurant, sunglasses pushed back onto your head as you glanced around in search of her. A small smile took over your lips when you spotted her, hurrying over to the table.

“You’re early.” You greeted, placing your purse down on the windowsill as you slipped into your seat.

Heather shrugged, “she got clingy, I kicked her out before she could start begging for room service and the girlfriend treatment.”

You nearly snorted, shaking you head at the other woman, “I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”

“Rob’s out of town, both the kids are on campus, you were occupied so I was bored.” She replied, picking up her coffee for a sip when the waiter came over to start you on your own drinks and you figured you may as well match Heather.

“Thought your go to place was the Conrad.” You asked, settling in as your drinks were dropped off and you could take a couple of sips.

“It is. But she was brand new and I wanted to be cautious, figuring we were meeting here in the morning I made it convenient.” She took a sip of her coffee, a brow raised in your direction, “which is why I’m particularly curious as to why you were pulling up to the valet instead of coming from the elevator.”

“I came from home.”

“Did we not plan to meet here for as little hassle as possible? We could have just met at my place if your date fell through.”

“It didn’t fall through.” Your brow scrunched, not able to get an immediate reply from Heather as the waiter came over to take your orders. You opting for a quinoa power bowl while she went with the mushroom and asparagus omelet.

“Did you change hotels?” Heather asked as the waiter left the table.

“No.” You shook your head, “we were at her place.”

“Oh?” She asked with slightly wide eyes and you laughed.

“Emily’s sick of not sleeping in her own bed. And to be completely honest I was getting bored of hotel life too.” You glanced up to catch the look on her face and you rolled your eyes, “Heather, this isn’t like one of us is some money hungry twenty something who’s going to go psychotic when the other one won’t leave her husband for her. Not everything mimics your life experiences.”

“So you’re not getting all domesticated on me?” She asked with a smirk, “because I need that wild, spitfire woman for work.”

“No.” You nearly grimaced, “we’re still going out for fancy dinners and shit, the sex is just occurring in a different environment and with a plethora of more toys.”

“Mmm.” She replied over a sip of her bloody mary, “so whose place were you at last night?”

“Hers.”

“You stay over?”

“Yes.”

“Careful.” She chided.

“What?” You asked her, your nose scrunching in confusion and she simply chuckled.

“Never mind.” She took another sip of her coffee, “you know… I saw Jackie the other day.”

“Not a surprise considering your line of work.” You replied, hoping the sudden heat on your cheeks wasn’t as present as it felt. “How is she?”

“Had one hell of a hickey on her neck… said she finally got around to having some good fun a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good for her.” You bluffed.

“Huh.” Heather clicked her tongue.

“What?” You huffed, wanting to move onto the next subject.

“Were you too drunk or too horny to realize that it was my main driver who picked you up from the club?” She smirked over the rim of her glass, “and to think you didn’t even bother to call me.”

“Heather it was nearly five in the morning.” You replied dryly, “besides, you always have to be in control of everything, you get power hungry in group situations, dynamic never would have worked.”

“Oh…” there was a devilish grin on her lips as she leant back in her chair, “so tell me then… did they gang up on you or was poor Jackie your little play toy?”

“Please.” You laughed, your voice quieting, “you know that’s what she prefers.”

“Tell me more.” With a smirk, she leant in, her elbow on the table, chin propped up in her hand.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, eyeing her up, “but I guess now would be the time to point out that hickey on your neck…”

“What?” Heather’s hand shot to her neck, gently prodding at the skin until she found the sensitive spot, “fucking brat. I told her no marks!”

“And that’s why you’ve got to make better choices.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair, “I’m careful to not leave marks.”

“That’s because you don’t bite hard enough.” She nearly scowled, digging into her purse to pull out a compact and do the best coverage job she could in the meantime.

You were left laughing, the topic finally diminishing as food was swiftly delivered. Heather, having had enough of being prodded and teased slid the compact back into her purse and picked up her fork.

“How are we doing for next week’s assembly?”

“I’ve got Harris, Tart and Durant set up for speakers, Ashley’s been finishing shirts, banners, badges and stickers and Colton’s been going door to door every day this week.”

“Good.” She took a bite of food, “where are we with backing from Underwood?”

“Working on it. He’s been out of State so often it’s been hard enough to track him or Claire down even for a phone call. I’ll get there soon, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

**

While your dates continued around the city, it almost felt like you had more freedom when you weren’t trying to stay in or near a specific hotel. Dinner or drinks could be closer to your place or Emily’s, wandering the waterfront on the way back to her apartment. While things were a little more comfortable, there were still some unspoken rules that the two of you simply continued to follow.

Emily always made sure the payment was sent to you within an hour of a date ending, whether that be midnight or eight in the morning the next day. You kept your dates limited to weekends, both to keep things on a running schedule and to try and avoid crossing over with work. Staying the night wasn’t required, it never had been in the hotels, especially if one of you knew you had a busy week and wanted a day to prepare for it or decompress from the weekend. There was nothing in the contract about cuddles and sweet dreams, it was about sex, enough aftercare that everyone was alright and money. There were nights you were too wiped to move, falling asleep before Emily could even fully check in with you and there were other nights that once you’d caught your breath, you were dressed and out the door. Emily would admit she did enjoy spending the nights in your bed, but she still missed her own just as much and if she was willing to drive at the late hour, she was pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek and heading home to it.

Some mornings you’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs and take the time for some lazy morning sex, which usually ended up leading straight into round two, three or more as you fully woke up. Other mornings you would wake up to the sound of the shower, Emily prodding your side what felt like seconds later with a to go coffee cup and you were on your way home straight away.

Coffee was where it ended, there was never breakfast, never brunch or dilly dallying as you talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend. It was a quick shower, a coffee in a cardboard cup and an ‘I’ll call you’ to set up your next date. While you had dinner or drinks most nights, they were had out, it was never homecooked, no dancing around each other in the kitchen while you put together a meal. Bottles of wine were often left forgotten on the coffee table as Emily made a home between your legs, bringing you to your peak over and over again until you were tugging her off you to return the favour.

Emily’s apartment was normally your setting, her toy collection happened to be more extensive than yours and it seemed like there was always something new to discover and play with. It also helped her keep a semblance of control in her mind, you may have been playing this game for months now, but she was still wrapping her brain around exactly how things worked. She was still new to it, learning the ropes as she went and she wanted to make sure she was doing her best. When she was in her own apartment, it was her surroundings, she knew every nook and cranny and felt more relaxed and able to take control.

The lines were still in place, even if there was a change of scenery.

**

Emily heard an all to familiar beeping interrupting her dreams and she rolled onto her side, scrunching her eyes briefly in an attempt to keep them shut and regain whatever sleep she still had left in her. You coffee always auto brewed and most mornings the two of you ignored it if you wanted to sleep in or have a morning session before parting ways. A chill ran through the room and she let out a small shiver, shifting to pull the covers tighter around herself and was surprised at just how easily she suddenly had the entire duvet in her hands.

Begrudgingly cracking her eyes open she looked around the room, it was still dark, sunrise being later and later as the city sunk fully into autumn. Rolling onto her back she was able to assess that you definitely weren’t in bed with her, the bathroom light was off but the fan was on, a likely sign you’d had a shower and started your day already. The second sign being that your pyjamas were strewn over one of the chairs across from the bed, your phone absent from the nightstand.

She knew that you were likely letting her sleep until you absolutely had to kick her out, but the exhausted part of her was really hoping maybe this was a quick thing and you’d come back to bed. She perked up when a light at the bottom of the stairs flicked on, her ears picking up the sound of your voice. Either someone was over or you were on the phone, but either way you sounded far less than pleased.

Letting out a soft sigh she pushed up to sitting, stretching out her body and rubbing at her eyes as she willed herself out of bed and into the cool morning air. She tiptoed quietly over to the door, if you did have a house guest this early, you likely didn’t need them knowing that you’d had overnight company. After listening for a couple of minutes she determined that you were definitely on the phone, there was barely any time for someone else to get a word in and whenever they did, downstairs was silent aside from the pacing of your heels or sound of coffee brewing. Emily crossed the room again, quickly getting redressed and collecting her things, quietly making her way down the staircase to the main floor, finding you with your back to her.

“Patterson I swear to god if you hang up on me— Yes! I already know that. He doesn’t need a parent or guardian if he’s of age. Did he ask you to call her? No. Exactly—What did I just say? Like hell you need to print him! You’re not just toeing the line you’re by far crossing it! Don’t think I know you just want him booked to get your name all over the press, I’ll have your fucking badge.” A slight pause while you pinched at the bridge of your nose, a voice chattering on the other side of the line, “no. Of course I don’t think you’re just going to toss him back out onto the street. Mr. Dalton is already on his way down there to make sure you don’t think about breaking any other rules or laws and believe me I’ll be making a trip down there myself to talk to your Captain.” Hanging up the phone you dropped it to the island, stopping to take a hefty swig of coffee, “fuck.”

You finally turned back to the island, dropping onto a stool and pulling your laptop toward you, movement out of the corner of your eye causing you to glance up, jolting slightly as you realized Emily was on the same floor as you.

“Shit, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” She replied, smiling softly as she stepped into the room. You made a noise, gesturing toward the empty to go coffee mug beside the coffee pot and she took the hint, mixing it to her liking. “Anything I can help with?”

You nearly snorted, glancing up to her, “morally, ethically and legally? No.”

“Oh…kay…” She took a sip of the coffee to make sure it was right before popping the lid on and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jordan got picked up for a drunk and disorderly last night.”

“Jordan?”

“Heather’s son.” You grimaced.

“Ah.” She nodded, suddenly more than well aware the severity of the situation, “DUI?”

“Luckily he didn’t get that far. But this fucking prick Patterson… fucking white shield who thinks he’s hot shit…” you grumbled, “he pays paparazzi to follow around teenage and older kids of politicians, especially at bars or parties. Tips them off to whenever he knows security is escorting them, they get the pictures, he gets to swoop in and make a couple of bullshit arrests, they split the bank. He thinks its gonna be his way up the chain.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit.”

“He is.” You mumbled, “and now I get to spend the rest of the weekend putting out fires and trying to keep this out of the press and away from Heather. Lord knows she’ll only lose her shit and knowing Jordan he’ll turn something flammable into an explosion. I—” you were cut off by your phone ringing and you immediately picked it up, “Yeah? I don’t care that it’s only five in the morning, the car is coming to the back entrance and you are to get Jordan into it without a single soul seeing him. Drive him back home, make sure he’s in the guest house, I’ll call Rob.”

Emily picked up her coffee cup, tapping on the island to gather your brief attention, giving you a little wave thank you for the coffee and to let you know she was saying goodbye. All things considered the best option for her right now was to get out of your hair.

**

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Getting an early or overnight call for a case on a Saturday morning was already annoying as is, but this was linked to one of the cases they had been working on that week. Meaning the call was Penelope saying she’d found an out of state connection and everyone was to be at the jet in thirty. While Emily’s go bag was in the car, it only had enough outfits for a few days and the one she’d worn the night previous certainly wasn’t Section Chief appropriate.

“Take whatever you need.” You sleepily waved in the direction of your closet, flicking on the bedside lamp before rolling over and going back to sleep as she began to rummage through your clothes.

Emily made it to the jet just in the nick of time, dropping her bag and managing to grab a coffee and bottle of water before settling into an empty seat across from Tara. She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her, examining the outfit choice and she shifted in her seat, the shirt was definitely a little snug around her chest but it was the best option she could find quickly.

“That’s a nice colour.” Tara complimented, “looks really good on you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“It new?”

“No,” she let out a semi awkward laugh, scrambling to come up with some kind of fib, “kind of old, figured I’d start cleaning out my closet last night, grabbed the first thing I could.” She shuffled in her seat again, tugging the fabric away from her chest before leaning forward to grab a case file, “what’d Garcia find? Do we know what we’re walking into?”

“Second page.” Tara replied, the corner of her lips curving up into a smirk and Emily could feel her cheeks burning pink, feeling like she was back in high school hiding a secret from her mother.

**

You sped through the doorway to Heather’s office, placing a now lukewarm coffee down on her desk as the check in that you were there before briskly turning around and she barely looked up from her laptop.

“Sorry, traffic on the I-395 was a fucking mess. I’ve never seen so many accidents this early in the morning.”

“It’s getting icy out there.” She replied, her eyes still on the screen in front of her, “turned the heater on in your office, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” You replied with a huff, barely making it to the doorway before the wheels started turning in Heather’s brain and she eyes shot up.

“Hold up!” She called and you froze on the spot, turning back to face her, “you live uptown…”

“Yup…” you nodded, feeling the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“And if you were coming from the Waldorf you would have taken Pennsylvania.”

“Yes again.” You nodded, nearly gulping. Heather surveyed you for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her lips twitched up into a grin.

“It’s Thursday…”

“You ever heard of wine Wednesday Heather? Zooz has an incredible happy hour and it’s walking distance from Em’s.”

“Hmm.” Her head titled, “must be a nice place.”

“I have work to do.” You began to turn away again, but she called out once more.

“Speaking of, pick a hotel for Sarasota this morning and Elise will book it.”

“I thought we were going to Laguna?”

“They changed locations, something about the right hall not being available.” She shrugged, “at least Florida’s an excuse for a shopping trip.”

“Huh…” your head titled as a grin broke out on your lips, “I could use a new swimsuit.”

“Could always go without one.” She smirked back and you rolled your eyes.

“Very professional.”

“We’ll have a private terrace.” She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And here I thought I was picking the hotel.”

“You’ll pick something suitable; cost isn’t a concern.” She shrugged, “I’m not going to be slumming it in Florida for a week and not indulge.” Her eyes flicked up and down your body, “hell, why don’t you call Tony, take the afternoon to get some shopping done.”

“He’d love that.” You laughed as you thought it over.

“I’m sure he’s not the only one.” She replied, tilting the screen of her laptop back as her eyes fell back down to it once again, a smirk remaining on her lips.

**

Girl’s night at Garcia’s always meant a couple of cocktails and when Tara had offered to drive, having to be up early the next morning, everyone was on board. JJ was the first drop off, leaving Emily in the front seat with Tara navigating the streets of Washington.

“What is going on with you?” Tara asked, a small laugh leaving her lips as she glanced over at the other woman.

“What?”

“Your nerves are radiating off you and you keep shifting in your seat like a dog that hasn’t figured out if he’s going to the park or the vet.”

She laughed, “it’s nothing. I just went from not really recognizing the street to realizing I’ve got a friend who lives around here.”

Tara glanced at her watch, “it’s not that late, if you wanna make a pit stop or for me to drop you somewhere, I can do that.”

“No, no don’t worry about it.”

“Emily,” she prodded, “c’mon. I can keep a secret.”

“It’s nothing like that!” She swatted at her hand, “just haven’t seen her in a bit.”

“Call her or I’m pulling over the car.”

“I—what?” Her eyes darted up to the other woman who suddenly pulled into the right lane, “okay, okay!”

Your phone began to buzz on your desktop and you let out a soft sigh, thankful for the interruption as you pulled off your glasses, blinking your eyes a few times as you picked it up.

“Walton.”

“Hey, it’s Emily.”

“Oh, hey!” A smile crept onto your face, “what’s up?”

“I.. uh.. I was just in the neighbourhood, figured I’d see if you wanted to grab a drink?”

This sigh you let out this time was much wearier one that Emily could practically feel, “I would absolutely love to but I’m still at the office and likely will be for a few more ours.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yup.” You exaggerated the word, popping the ‘p’, “bunch of extra tasks on hand this week and we’ve been spread pretty thin. I definitely can’t go anywhere until the boss does.”

“Shit.” She muttered and you reached across your desk for your agenda, flipping through a couple of pages.

“Looks like I can squeeze you in on Tuesday? Probably not ‘til ten at the earliest and I wouldn’t be able to stay.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, the usual weekend is fine.”

“Weekend is all conference prep and we fly out Monday afternoon.”

“I would hate to add to your schedule, we can wait until you’re back.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed softly, “lord knows I could use the relief.”

“Alright.” She chuckled, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll call once I’m finished up, let you know when I’m on my way.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Emily dropped her phone with a soft sigh, sliding it back into her pocket, a sense of relief washing over her when Tara pulled back into the left lane and signalled to make the turn towards her original destination.

“I thought you hadn’t seen her in a while?”

“Huh?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked up at her.

“’The usual weekend is fine’?” Tara raised an eyebrow, “who have you been meeting up with every week?”

“No one.” She fibbed, sinking deeper into the seat of the car.

“Oh come on Emily.” She laughed, “doesn’t take much to realize you’ve been spending time doing something other than work. You actually don’t reply to non urgent work texts on the weekends anymore, better moods Monday mornings…”

“No profiling the profiler!” Emily protested, punching Tara’s arm, “I thought I was getting a nice ride home, not an interrogation.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tara held up a hand in surrender, shaking her head at the other woman as she pulled up in front of Emily’s building. She said a quick thank you and goodnight, pulling out her phone when she was waiting for the elevator. If you were working this late on the weekend the least she could do was send over some dessert as a pick me up.

__________________

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[perkypeony]

𝕊ℍ𝔸𝕋𝕋𝔼ℝ𝔼𝔻

Gojo Satoru x wife reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ(ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ), ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏss, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴇss, ᴘᴛsᴅ, sᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ

The moment Gojo Satoru was unsealed from the prison realm, the world felt gloomy. He was free, but the sight before him was anything but welcoming. His wife—the love of his life, his biggest supporter—lay on the ground, she was a ghost of the woman he missed so dearly.

Her body was bruised and battered, her clothes torn and bloodstained. Her eyes, once so full of life, were now vacant, staring blankly ahead. As he approached, his heart shattered at the sight of her broken form.

"My love, it's me," he whispered, his voice trembling. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched violently, a guttural scream escaping her lips. The sound tore through him like a blade, raw and agonizing.

Her eyes darted around wildly, unfocused and filled with terror. She let out choked sobs, clutching her head as if trying to block out some unseen horror.

"It's okay," he tried to soothe you, holding back his own tears from falling freely. "I'm here now. You're safe."

But she didn't hear him. She couldn't. Her mind was lost in the abyss of pain and fear. She looked at him then, her eyes catching his cerulean blue eyes for a fleeting moment. There was a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, desperation seeping into his voice. But she only shook her head, her expression one of sheer panic and confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a heart-wrenching wail echoed through the silence.

Satoru reached out again, trying to comfort her, but she struggled against him, her movements frantic and desperate. "No, no, please!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the intensity of her fear. Her hands pushed weakly against his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to get away.

"It's me, Satoru," he repeated, his heart breaking with every sob that escaped her lips. "I would never hurt you."

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. She continued to struggle, her body writhing in his grasp as she fought to free herself from an imagined threat. It was only after several agonizing minutes that her strength began to wane. Exhaustion overtook her, and her struggles grew weaker, her cries becoming soft, pitiful whimpers.

Finally, she collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Satoru held her tightly, his dam of tears finally broke. With painstaking gentleness, he lifted her into his arms. She was light, too light as if the essence of her had been drained away. "I'll take care of you," he vowed, his voice breaking. "I promise."

Satoru brought her to see Shoko and only right then he knew what happened to his wife. She was gone after Sukuna took over Megumi's body. Nobody witnessed Sukuna kidnap her but judging by her current state, it might be true. Whatever Sukuna had done to her, it had twisted her mind beyond recognition. Shoko advised Satoru to seek out professionals, as this is not her field. Shoko spoke of symptoms of PTSD and its treatments, but all Satoru could see was the shell of his beloved wife.

Days blurred into nights as he sat by her side, his heart aching with every sob, every flinch. He tried to comfort her, to remind her of who she was, but it was like reaching for a ghost. She would stare at him with eyes that saw nothing, lost in her own torment.

One particularly cold night, she awoke screaming, her body shaking with uncontrollable terror. Satoru held her, his own tears mingling with hers. He tried to hold back his tears, determined to be strong for her. However, he is the weakest when it comes to his wife, his heart can't bear seeing her suffering. "It's okay, it's just a nightmare," he whispered, though he knew her waking reality was far worse.

She pushed him away, crawling into a corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't touch me!" she cried, her voice raw and broken. "Please, don't hurt me!"

The words cut deeper than any blade. "I would never hurt you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you."

But she couldn't hear him. Her mind was trapped in the horrors Sukuna had inflicted, and there was no reaching her. She looked at him, her eyes filled with such profound sorrow and fear that it took everything in him not to break down completely.

He took her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She flinched, but this time, she didn't pull away. "I'm not him," he said softly. "I'm Satoru. Your husband."

She looked at him, confusion tarnishing her features. "Satoru?" she repeated, the name foreign on her lips. "I... I don't remember."

His heart clenched painfully. "It's okay," he said, though it was anything but. "We'll get through this. Together."

But the days were long and the nights even longer. She was a ghost, haunted by memories too painful to recall and too traumatic to forget. Every step forward was met with a stumble back. Her laughter was a distant memory, her smiles a rarity.

One day, as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of red and gold, he took her to a secluded spot they once loved. She sat beside him, silent and trembling. "We used to come here all the time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You loved watching the sunset."

She turned to him, her eyes reflecting the fading light. For a moment, just a moment, he saw a glimpse of the woman he fell in love with. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice fragile.

"It is," he agreed, his heart breaking all over again. "Just like you."

But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the moment passed. She looked away, lost once more in the darkness of her mind. He reached out, taking her hand in his. "I love you," he said, hoping against hope that some part of her remembered.

Tears filled her eyes, and she looked at him with a sorrow so deep it felt like drowning. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I still don't remember who you are."

The words were a dagger to his heart. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he could somehow piece her back together. "It's not your fault," he said, his voice breaking. "None of this is your fault."

Sukuna had hoped to break him, to shatter him as he had shattered her. But instead, Satoru found a fierce, burning resolve. He would not let this destroy them. He would fight for her, for the woman she was and the woman she could be again.

Every day was a battle, but he fought it willingly, with all his heart. Because no matter how broken she is, she's still his wife, his love, his everything. And he would spend every moment proving that love could heal, even the deepest wounds.

[yutaholic]

deal with it (M)

PAIRING: Mark (NCT) + reader (female)

GENRE: the silent treatment; the sin is strong with this one; smut

SUMMARY: It started as a little fight. Now you and Mark aren’t speaking to each other. That escalates to absolutely no touching, affectionately or otherwise, which in turn becomes a game. And you’re determined not to break first.

WARNINGS: mild language; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 3.8k words; listening to deal with it by ashnikko

A week had gone by since you last had sex. And that was unheard of.

Not just sex either. No kisses. No cuddles. Nothing. You were sleeping in the same bed together, but you were worlds away from each other.

What started as a tiny fight turned into a battle of wills. Mark was ignoring you and you were giving him the cold shoulder.

Honestly, you didn’t think he could go this long without fucking. Not Mark and certainly not you. With the benefit of hindsight, withholding pussy to get your way was more of a punishment for you than for him.

But something shifted in the apartment that morning. Mark was also hyper aware a week had passed. He made sure to walk out of the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing. Normally, he would have the decency to put his boxers on.

You peered at him over the rim of your coffee mug, taking a sip that burned your mouth, but you were too fucking horny to care. Instead, your eyes were on that damn cock swinging around.

“Good morning, baby,” Mark greeted in a rather chipper voice still deep with sleep, like nothing had happened between you and him.

“Morning,” you could barely reply before he was leaning in and pressing a steamy kiss to the base of your neck. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

And without another word, Mark made his own cup of coffee and marched into the home office, your eyes on his cute naked ass every step of the way.

“That bastard,” you muttered under your breath, downing the rest of your coffee and planning your next move.

It was almost noon when you stepped into the little home office, pulling your hair into a ponytail high on your head. And sporting only your boyfriend’s grey hoodie and your favorite pink panties.

Imagine your surprise that at some point he’d gotten dressed.

Mark was on the phone, propping it against his ear with his shoulder and spinning a pen lazily between his fingers. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement when you approached him, but said nothing to you as he focused on answering the questions of whoever was on the call.

You didn’t hesitate to step between him and the desk, then you pushed his chair back slightly to give yourself more room. Mark watched with interest, corners of his mouth ticking upwards with amusement, but the blood drained from his face when you dropped to your knees between his thighs.

“Yeah, I…,” Mark trailed, voice cracking when you began to tug at his sweatpants. “No, I heard you.”

You smirked up at him, shimmying his pants and boxers down enough to free his soft cock. You took his shaft in your hands, wondering if it had gotten bigger in your time without it, and arched forward to let saliva fall from your lips and onto his tip.

“Yes, I already put the orders in,” Mark said steadily, his free hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip with affection.

You didn’t hesitate to grab his hand and latch your mouth to his wrist, kissing hotly as you pumped him with your other hand. He was always sensitive to your kisses.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away, fixating his eyes to the ceiling in order to keep some grasp of composure. “I saw the new numbers and I’m not concerned,” he quickly responded.

You giggled silently, pleased that he couldn’t even look at you. When he was stiff in your grasp, you rocked forward to claim him with your tongue, taking him between your lips and hollowing out your cheeks.

Mark shifted in his seat, releasing the breath he’d been holding when your lips locked around the base of his length and your throat clenched around the head. “Then, that’s something to bring up in the next meeting,” he replied, gruff.

You pressed your hands into his meaty thighs and bobbed your head, the tip of his cock prodding the back of your throat. You were no stranger to giving Mark head and considering his size, it had taken some getting used to.

But after years together, you were a master at sucking him dry.

Mark bit his lip hard and closed his eyes, moving the phone away from his mouth to exhale loudly through his nose. You were deepthroating him like you were running on borrowed time. There was no steady climb to the edge; you were out to finish him before he had a chance to get off the phone.

You glanced up, smirking at the tension on his beautiful face. He was doing his best to fight a moan, you could tell with the way his chest heaved and his body trembled. You raked your nails over his hips and swallowed around his cock.

“Yes, yes,” Mark panted, eyes widening at how eagerly you swallowed his dick. “I already took care of that.”

You wanted to giggle. It was just so satisfying to have such a tough boy melting beneath your fingertips.

Mark suddenly reached out, grabbing your ponytail and winding his fingers through your strands. Which told you he was getting close.

You relaxed, letting him guide your head up and down at a pace he wanted. You tightened your throat and hollowed your cheeks, peering up at him as tears escaped your eyes and ran down your face.

Mark wanted to look at you with every loud wet squelch of his cock bottoming out in your mouth. He had never wanted anything so badly. But he knew the second he saw your face, he would blow his load then and there.

You noticed the grip on your hair began to slow you down and you fought back, grabbing his hips and pushing him into your throat faster and faster.

“Looking forward to it,” Mark stammered out, adrenaline creeping up his spine as your soft choking sounds grew louder. “Yes, sir. Bye!”

You chuckled around his length when Mark hung up the phone and tossed it roughly onto the desk.

“You’re so fucking bad,” Mark wheezed, still refusing to look at you.

You shrugged, moaning around his length for good measure. Your panties were sticky against your folds, soaked with your arousal. You sank your fingers deep into his flesh, resisting the urge to bring a hand to your pulsing sex.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned and took your head in his hands, thrusting into your waiting mouth. His teeth buried in his bottom lip again and his cheeks flushed a darker shade of crimson.

You held his thighs for purchase, letting him use you as he wanted. It turned you on too much, his hard cock rutting into your throat at a brutal pace. Your jaw began to ache and you desperately wanted to wipe the tears from your face, but you held on, knowing he was at his end. It would take only a stern brush of your teeth to slow him down if needed.

But you wanted to wreck him. You wanted him fucked out and lightheaded so he would be easier to negotiate with. You always felt powerful when sucking him dry or riding him into the mattress.

The wet choking noises you made were enough to finish him.

Mark gripped your hair tight and chanted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” With one more hard thrust, his cock twitched and pumped his load into your mouth.

You swallowed again and again, swirling your tongue around his cock to clean him, and chuckled darkly when his thighs trembled beneath your fingertips.

Mark went slack in the chair, hands slipping from your hair and hanging limply by his legs. He leaned back, trying to catch his breath and steady his frantically beating heart.

You pulled his spent cock from your mouth and dabbed at your face, grateful for having not taken the time to put on any makeup. Pulling your sleeves over your hands, you used the material to soak up the tears staining your cheeks.

“Goddamn,” Mark finally said, coming to his senses and glancing you over to make sure he hadn’t gone too hard on you.

You rose, shoving Mark back by his shoulders and sitting squarely on his thigh. Grinding a little, because you desperately needed friction on your aching cunt, you purred, “Ask me, Mark.”

Mark fixed you with a blank stare for a moment. Then, his lips broke into a grin. “No.”

You tilted your head coyly. “Awe, but don’t you want it?”

Mark’s gaze shifted down to your position on his thigh and the way you were slowly riding him and groaned, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, leaning in to nip at his neck. Swiping your tongue beneath his ear, you whispered, “Ask me for it.”

Mark gathered you in his arms and stood, setting you down on his desk faster than you thought possible. He really admired you, strutting in while he was on the phone and blowing him like rent was due tomorrow.

You giggled, thinking you were about to win, but gasped aloud when he gently shoved you back onto the cold wooden surface.

Mark stripped your panties off, making another lewd comment about how wet you were, and popped your legs around his waist before bringing his fingers to your folds.

You whimpered when he touched you, sensitive from the lack of intimacy. It was your turn to stare at the ceiling, biting your lip to resist any noises that would satisfy him. His digits moved skillfully against your sex, two long fingers curling into your cunt like silk while his thumb rolled over your clit.

If you were a master at sucking his dick, Mark was just as expert when it came to your pussy.

You turned your head to the side and covered your face with both hands, fighting a moan as Mark crooked his fingers in your walls, finding your sweet spot like it was second nature.

“God, I’ve missed this tight cunt,” Mark growled, almost more so to himself, though the words set every nerve in your body on edge.

You stayed hidden behind your hands, conveniently biting down on the sleeve of your hoodie. It was starting to get too hot, your body smoldering and drowning in it. “Mark…,” you sighed, a tiny moan escaping with a hard pump of his fingers.

“I’m just returning the favor, baby,” Mark replied smoothly, driving his digits in and out of your slick walls.

You relaxed at that, letting your hands fall to opposite sides of your head. Though you definitely kept your eyes on the ceiling overhead, lashes fluttering each time he stroked your sweet spot.

Mark had kept his free hand clamped tight on your naked thigh, but couldn’t resist smoothing his palm under your hoodie and grabbing your breast. He kneaded and squeezed in rhythm with his fingers in your pussy, his thumb teasing over your nipple just as its counterpart rolled your clit.

“Mark, fuck,” you cried, voice airy and weak. It just felt too good, so much stimulation at once. “I can’t…,” you trailed, eyes winching closed.

Mark suddenly withdrew from your body and turned, grabbing his chair and wheeling it close. You watched curiously as he sat down and rolled to the edge of the desk. His eyes never left yours, full of mischief as he looped his arms around your thighs and buried his face in your pussy.

“Oh, god,” you moaned, head tipping back.

Mark latched his soft lips around your clit, sucking it as hard as you’d sucked his cock, before slipping his tongue into your hole.

You squirmed on the desk, but you were nothing compared to his strength. His arms seized tightly around your thighs, leaving your lower body trapped against him. Your sounds filled the small space, a whimper or a moan lingering on your every breath.

Mark shook his head from side to side, cursing in a low, deep voice as all the blood in his body rushed to his cock again. His head was swimming, his senses overloaded. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, swallowing every drop of your arousal.

You shuddered in place and reached for him. Mark took your hands and guided them into his messy hair, anchoring you to him. To sanity.

Then, he slipped a pair of digits into your sex again and kissed your clit, sucking with the impatience of a man that had gone too long without bringing you pleasure.

Your head was hanging off the edge of the desk now as you tried to escape his tongue, your fingers tangled in his hair. Your head was pounding. Your ears were ringing.

“Mark, make me come,” you cried out, clamping your thighs on his head. “Please, I need it. Fuck. Please.”

Mark added a third long finger to your throbbing cunt and said, “Come for me, baby.”

You felt a tightening in your belly, heat spilling over from the core of your body and into your legs, threatening ecstasy.

Mark flicked his tongue over your clit and fucked you with his fingers, pushing you over the edge with a devilish smirk.

Your back arched off the desk and you cried out for mercy. You gripped his hair with both fists and twisted away from him, toes curling and heels digging into his back.

Mark’s lips parted from your clit, but he kept sinking his fingers in and out of you, riding your high, and was tempted to tease you for how tightly your walls kneaded his digits. He left a quick kiss on the inside of your thigh and rolled back in his chair.

You slumped like dead weight on the desk after coming so hard. Your body felt lighter, your head a little clearer. But the moment his hands left your body, you felt colder.

Mark leaned back in the chair, eyes lingering on his handiwork, and teased, “I told you there’s no problem between us that an orgasm or two can’t fix.”

“Fuck you,” you rasped, but without vitriol.

He chuckled.

You lifted your head, saw the way he was eyeing your cunt like he owned it, and closed your legs to hide your sex from view. As if his face hadn’t just been buried in it. Propping up on your elbows, you asked blithely, “Are you hard again?”

“Like a rock,” he answered without missing a beat.

You parted your knees a little, body instinctively wanting to get into position for him to fill you up, and quickly crossed your legs to fight the urge. But even your mind was filling with images of his cock penetrating you hard and deep.

Mark waited, seeing the indecision on your face. You were clearly warring with your pride and your desire. He almost had a little laugh at your expense. You were so goddamn adorable.

“Do you wanna do it?” you finally asked, peeking at him innocently.

Mark licked his lips. “Are you asking me for sex?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m asking if you want to ask me for sex.”

Mark laughed and the sound put a sheepish grin on your face. “Wow, mental gymnastics should be a sport,” he quipped dryly. “You would win all the medals.”

You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that amazing oral sex aside, you and your boyfriend were still caught in a stalemate.

Mark stood, reaching for your legs and holding them at the knees.

You shivered when you felt his hard cock rubbing against your folds.

“Ask me.”

You frowned. “No.”

Mark raked his length through your slit, pushing your legs closer together for more friction. “Ask me, baby.”

You clenched your fists in frustration. Silence hung in the air between you and him. Your body was begging for him, pulsating every time his cock stroked against you. There had never been so much pressure and aching in the core of your body. You wanted him so badly that your vision was starting to blur.

Like you couldn’t see straight because you were blinded with lust.

Mark assumed you wouldn’t give in this soon, but he enjoyed teasing you.

“No,” you finally said, setting your jaw. Frustration was at an all time high. You were practically shaking with it.

“Last chance.”

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip and winched your eyes closed. A shudder coursed through you when he rubbed against your engorged clit. You wanted him so bad, you would do anything.

“Please,” you sighed, on the verge of tears. You felt like a nerve stripped bare.

Mark shushed you, cupping your cheek and running his thumb over your bottom lip, freed from your teeth. There was no way he was going to deny you any longer, regardless of how much your stubbornness won in the end.

Not when you were shaking and dripping with need. Not when you were rendered to this desperate, submissive state. Just for him and no one else.

Mark wrapped his hand around your neck, bracing the other on the lowest part of your stomach, pinning you to the desk, and sank his hard cock into your opening. You sucked in a breath and whimpered, spreading your thighs to make room for him.

“Fuck,” Mark growled, tightening his grip on your throat and leaning in to leave a messy kiss on your parted mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

“Yours,” you choked out, grabbing at his shoulders. “All yours, baby.”

He drew his hips back and thrust into you, groaning at your walls stretching and fluttering around his cock. You were slick and tight and so goddamn needy. “I’m gonna fuck an apology out of you,” Mark said darkly, smacking his hips into you, sending a loud wet slap through the room.

You gasped for air, reaching down to grab handfuls of his ass as he pounded into you. “I’m sorry you’re such a pain in my ass,” you quipped, crying out when Mark sped up in retaliation.

He shook his head, smirking. “God, I fucking love you.”

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[sun-kissy]

memory | j.p.

tw: mentions of sex, cancer (apologies for any misrepresentation), main character death

james potter x reader

You were laying down with your head at the foot of your bed, staring up at the ceiling and tracing the cracks in the corners with your gaze. It was something you seemed to be doing a lot lately. There’s nothing on your mind, it seems you have no energy to even think these days.

Your husband doesn’t knock before he enters, he never does. You don’t mind. His voice is soft as he coaxes you out from where you’ve taken sanctuary in a softly lit corner of your brain. He calls your name a few times, rubs his fingers lightly on your wrist. You come to.

“Hi.” You sound hoarse.

James smiles gently, sliding his fingers down to your hand to give it a squeeze. “Hey. Lost you for a second.”

“I’ve been lost for hours, I think,” you murmur, voice straining as you push the heels of your palms into the mattress and sit up. James opens his mouth to ask if you want to talk about it, but then thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to tire you out when you’re like this.

Droopy eyes, sunken eyelids. Your lips are chapped and teeth yellow. You tell him that you’re fighting, you’re really trying – but he knows better. You’ve already given up.

You use your hands to feel for something on the bed around you, frowning when you come up with nothing.

“What do you need?”

“A hairband. But hold on, I can get it –”

He shushes you, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you so your back is facing him. It scares him to feel your shoulder bones peeking out from underneath your thin T-shirt, rough edges to your soft soul. He knows it’s not your fault, but can’t help but feel angry anyway. The medicines and treatments were supposed to help you, not wear you down until you were nothing but a walking skeleton. Not even your soul was intact; cancer had stolen your will to live too.

The silence is deafening as he wraps the hairband around what little is left of your hair, the strands few and far between. He even takes care to brush the hair on your sideburns back.

You think about striking up a conversation but decide against it. The moment was soft, so you would let it stay that way. Who knew how many more days you had, to feel the gentleness of his touch on the nape of your neck?

The shriek of a baby drags through the air, and James drops his hands while letting out a sigh. Harry was crying again. Sometimes you wondered if your baby could feel all of it, the tension and fear and sadness which permeated your home. Maybe that’s why he cried so much. God knows you’d be crying all day if you had the energy to.

“I’ll be back after I check on him,” he whispers, brushing his fingers across your shoulders before standing up and making his way out the room.

You lay back down, turning away from the door. You can hear James cooing, coaxing your son back to silence and sleep. He was always made to be a father, you’d told him that umpteen times before. You just wished he would have chosen someone else to have children with. You had little time left to live, even lesser to be a mother.

As promised, he comes back. You feel the bed dip as he lays behind you, arms coming to wrap around your waist and pull you back until you’re fit snug against his chest.

His breath is warm on the shell of your ear, loud. You let your eyes flutter shut as you listen to it, feel the calluses of his palm flat against your stomach. You can’t help but think this must be a nice way to die, in the arms of life.

“Are we going to be alright?”

The question slips out before you can stop it. It hangs in the air like a burden, like the weight of it was somehow holding it up.

The hot air next to your ear goes cold for a moment. “I don’t know,” James replies quietly. It’s an honest answer, but it’s not what you wanted.

What did you want? For him to lose hope, to admit defeat like you have? You could see the strength it was taking for him to hold on, to not slip into the depths of despair and hopelessness as you have. It was admirable, sometimes even enviable. But how thin was the line between hope and delusion? How long could he pretend that this wasn’t a losing battle, that you couldn’t drop dead any second?

But you wouldn’t berate a lover for hoping. So you turn towards James, his name slipping easily from your mouth as your lips meet. Soft kisses turn into rough touches, clothes abandoned and hands all over each other; bodies and souls entangled in messy desperation. It was an escape, a way to shut out the thoughts neither of you would admit to having. Maybe this was the last time you would ever have sex. So you made the best of what little strength you had, till the silk sheets were covered in white and James was covered in your love. You were covered in sadness, as you always were. And cancer. The cancer never stopped clinging to you.

That was one day your memory hung on to, maybe because of the sheer catharsis you experienced.

You wish you could’ve said the day of your death was another unforgettable one, but it really wasn’t. You had breakfast in bed, ran your fingers through James’ curls. You even had the willpower to spend some time with your son. Not enough for him to get attached, like you were so afraid of, but enough for him to know he had a mother once. The rest of the day was spent in bed, drifting between the lines of wakefulness and temporary unconsciousness. At one point, temporary became permanent.

James knew you were sorry for not being able to stay; you wished he knew how sorry you were about not wanting to. As the sky welcomed you with open arms, you could only hope that memories would be enough to immortalise you.

[beautysamour]

I’ve done the math, there’s no solution.

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: miguel o’hara x reader

✧ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: miguel o’hara

✧ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in every universe you fall in love with miguel o’hara, and in every universe, it doesn’t end well.

✧ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, implied suggestive moment, italicized words in paragraphs mean it’s a flashback

a/n: inspired by that one trend where someone lost who they consider their true love and they say “in another universe we’re (something emotional to them. ex: you have my picture in your wallet).”

Being associated with Spider-Man was a risk in of itself. Wherever Spider-Man went, death followed close by.

“Lyla, make sure to shut everything down before I leave.”

Miguel craned his neck to the side cracking it in the process, he glanced at the digital clock, 6:30. Right on time.

“Ok.”

All of the projectors Miguel was previously watching still surrounds him as the platform began to lower. When it’s a comfortable height from the ground, he jumps off adjusting the tie on his suit that now took place of where his spider suit was.

As he was about to fully exit the room, the sound of a familiar voice paralyzes all the muscle in his body. “Lyla,” he nearly yelled out causing the artificial intelligent being to pause in her movements.

“Not that one. Leave that one on.”

“Uh, ok,” Lyla teleported to another screen not thinking anything of Miguel’ order.

Miguel practically ran over to the screen of where the voice came from, his thoughts growing frantic, it’s you.

He watches as he listens to your laughter, a laughter that he wanted to put into one of his serums so he could inject it into his system, allowing you to take over all of his senses, caused by a version of himself.

“Miguel, stop,” you said in between laughs making no effort to actually push him away, only making an effort to splash him with water and soap.

“Uh, boss,” Lyla popped out from behind the screen, “You’re going to be late if you don’t get going now.”

Miguel blinked remembering what he had plans for. Clearing his throat he nodded to Lyla and continued his way out the building.

—

Miguel was never interested in flowers but he always made sure to buy them for you. On your first date, your favorite flowers were settled in a vase to the side of your table restaurant. He remembers the way you tried to keep your calm as you glanced at the flowers ever few seconds, the way your eyes lit up and the forced control over the corners of your lips that you tried to keep down when ever you looked at the vase.

He almost stole it when you two left the restaurant, and it was at that moment that he knew he fell deep, and there was no way he was going to reach the surface again.

“That’ll be $35.99.”

Miguel had no idea how much money he’s spent at this flower shop, all he knows was that it was your favorite and nothing else mattered after finding that out.

The sun was starting to set and Miguel had everything he needed for your anniversary date. Normally he would still be at the spider society, making sure everything was in check, no anomalies running around in any universe.

He remembers an argument you two got into during your first anniversary. It had been a while since Miguel was in a relationship and he forgot all about what it was like to prioritize himself over work, and in return ended up letting you down.

He wasn’t even sure why it even turned into an argument, it was obvious you were in the right.

“I was in that restaurant for four hours! Four, before it started raining and I come back to you injured?”

Your hair was drenched from the rain, you immediately ran back to your shared place after getting a call from Jess telling you that he refused to get medical treatment. While yes you were upset that he was late to your anniversary dinner, you couldn’t deny that what really set you off was that he got hurt and was planning on throwing on a suit to cover it up.

“Mi vida,” he groaned out not wanting to argue with you. Why couldn’t you understand that he had work?

You seemed to have only gotten more angry, and Miguel braced himself as he watched you come over to him with a cold bag of peas in your hand—ready to catch it only for you to avoid his eyes when you stand in front of him, the feeling of worry and hurt making itself known in your eyes.

You press the bag of peas to his biggest bruise, “Today is our anniversary for getting together. I don’t want it to also be an anniversary for me loosing you.”

Miguel was sure he felt his heart break at your words, guilt finally catching up to him. He took your chin in his hand, tilting it upwards to force you to look into his eyes.

“Perdóname, mi vida,” his eyes softened as they trailed down to your lips, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Yeah? Well, you did,” your voice slightly wavered at the end of your sentence. It wasn’t that you thought him incapable of protecting himself, you just didn’t want to see the day where you would get a call revealing that his skills weren’t enough.

He caresses your check and presses a kiss against your forehead, “From now on, I’ll make sure to communicate a sudden change in plans before leaving, does that sound ok?”

When you gives him a deadpanned stare he forces himself to continue, “I will make sure to leave work early during any special occasions.”

“And not go on any life threatening mission that lead to your stubborn self refusing help before said special occasions? Of course there are exceptions, like if it’s really really bad, but in general.”

He huffed out a laugh, “Yes. That too.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you truly look into his eyes, giving you a wounded look that makes his heart clench, and an indication that you were really taking his words to heart, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Miguel was never the best with words, he preferred actions above else so when he finds himself unable to tell you how sorry he is, he decides to show it to you.

“Miguel,” you brokenly moaned as the feeling of pleasure built up crumbled upon you, allowing you to reach your peak.

You shivered at the airy breath that hit the skin behind your ears, Miguel’ fingers trailing up your torso leaving a trail of your own doing behind as he littered kisses along the side of your neck.

Your eyes shot open as you felt his fingers trail down your body again, “Cariño,” he sweetly says into your ear, “Let me make it up to you.”

He presses his lips against yours when you try to tell him it’s ok; you forgive him; you don’t have to cum again, but all those thoughts go away when he tugs on your tongue and babbles out the word, “Please.”

Miguel leaves the memory before it becomes too much, the imagery of you in such a debauched manner being too much to handle in public. Luckily he was just a few more blocks before he’d arrive.

The first step is always the hardest, but the next step after the first always seemed a lot more difficult at a place like this.

The flowers by you looked well, of course they did— they were new. Miguel was just here two days ago. He placed the new bouquet of flowers in a vase he brought from your shared home, setting them on the opposite side of where the other bouquet was.

As he brought out a handkerchief from his left pocket he lowered himself down on his knees so he’d be fairly leveled with your gravestone. He looked up and down, left side, right side, behind and in front and dusted off any dust, dirt, and pollen he could find.

Not to his surprise, there was barely any on it—on you.

For a few moments the only thing that would be heard by a person walking by would be the breeze and the sound of tree leaves brushing along one another. It’s only when Miguel realizes something that he speaks.

“I know why all the visits usually reside in silence now, my vida.” He looks at the engraved letters in front of him forming your name, the concept of breathing suddenly feeling uncommon.

“Really? Why,” he could almost here in your voice.

“It’s because you always started the conversations.” He paused, as if waiting for a response— no he was hoping for one. Hoping that he’d suddenly hear your voice from behind him, but he knew it was an imbeciles dream.

That pause lasted for a minute, then five minutes, then forty minutes, then all of a sudden the sun was setting.

The first step is always the hardest, but to Miguel, these last steps of every visit put that very saying to shame.

He’d be back again in a week, and a month, and a year later, and will probably never stop coming back but the other universe he saw today— the one of you and his other self— he felt that he had to get it off his chest now.

“You know, in another universe you’re laughing and splashing me with water as I tickle you.”

He waits again, and only silence gives him a response.

Being associated with Spider-Man was a risk in of itself. Wherever Spider-Man went, death followed close by.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hii!! Could you please write some fluff where reader is giving Cubarsi the silent treatment ? And maybe him finding that she is ticklish?

Thanks!

SILENT TREATMENT - PAU CUBARSÍ

Giving Pau the silent treatment

Pau Cubarsí x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I’d been in a mood all afternoon, and Pau knew it. The reason was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop me from giving him the silent treatment.

He had eaten the last piece of my favorite chocolate, the one I had been saving for a long day.

It wasn’t just about the chocolate; it was the principle. He knew how much I loved that particular treat, and yet, there it was—gone.

Pau, clueless at first, had been trying to figure out why I was so quiet. He’d asked me about my day, commented on the weather, and even brought up plans for the weekend, but I had answered him with nothing but curt nods and mumbled responses.

Eventually, he realized something was off. “Cariño, why aren’t you talking to me?” he asked, leaning in close as we sat on the couch together.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and pointedly looking away. If he didn’t know, I wasn’t going to tell him.

He should have realized that eating my chocolate was a crime of the highest order.

Pau sighed, a mix of confusion and amusement crossing his face. “Did I do something wrong? Please tell me what it is, so I can fix it.”

I stayed silent, pretending to focus on the TV, though I wasn’t really watching it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him frown, clearly frustrated that I wasn’t responding.

But I was determined to hold my ground, at least for a little while longer.

After a few more minutes of silence, Pau decided to take a different approach. He scooted closer to me, his warm presence making it harder to maintain my resolve. Gently, he reached out and cupped my cheek, turning my face toward him.

“Please talk to me,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. He leaned in and kissed my lips, a slow and tender kiss that usually melted away any annoyance I felt. But this time, I kept my lips stubbornly still, refusing to give in.

Pau pulled back slightly, a pout forming on his lips when he realized I wasn’t kissing him back. “Amor, come on. Don’t be mad at me.”

I stayed quiet, though it took all my willpower not to crack a smile at how adorable he looked, pouting like a puppy who’d just been scolded.

He tried kissing me again, a little more insistent this time, but I still didn’t respond.

His brows furrowed, and he pulled back completely, studying me with those big, soulful eyes of his. “This must be serious if you won’t even kiss me back.”

I rolled my eyes, but still said nothing. Pau huffed in defeat and slumped back on the couch beside me, but he wasn’t giving up yet. I could feel him thinking, strategizing his next move.

Then, an idea seemed to hit him. A mischievous grin spread across his face, and I suddenly felt very wary.

Before I could react, his fingers darted to my side, lightly tickling me. I yelped in surprise, the sudden attack breaking my carefully maintained silence. “Pau! Stop it!”

His grin widened as he realized he’d found my weakness. “Ah, so you are still alive! Come on, talk to me, or I might just keep going.”

I tried to twist away from him, but he was persistent, his fingers skillfully finding all the ticklish spots along my sides.

Laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, and despite my attempts to stay mad, I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Pau! Stop!” I pleaded, laughing so hard that tears sprang to my eyes.

“Not until you tell me why you’re mad,” he teased, continuing his relentless tickling.

“Okay, okay!” I gasped, finally giving in. “I’m mad because you ate my chocolate!”

Pau stopped tickling me, his hands resting on my sides as he looked at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “That’s what this is about? The chocolate?”

I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest again, though it was harder to keep up the act now that I’d been laughing. “Yes! I was saving it, and you just ate it without asking.”

Pau’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, amor. I didn’t realize it was that important to you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I sighed, feeling the last of my annoyance melt away. “You better. That was my favorite.”

He smiled, relief washing over his features. “I’ll get you more. I’ll buy you a whole box.”

“Good,” I said, finally letting him pull me into a proper hug.

As I rested my head against his chest, Pau kissed the top of my head, holding me close. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re mad. But I prefer it when you’re not giving me the silent treatment.”

I smiled, snuggling into him. “Well, then don’t eat my chocolate again, and we won’t have this problem.”

“Deal,” he said with a chuckle, squeezing me tighter.

[jaeyunverse]

cat boy

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

wc: 1882

genres: some fluff, mostly crack, enemies to lovers, neighbours au

warnings: profanity

summary: yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

note: this is extremely unserious!!!! i only wrote it for funsies but i enjoyed the process a lot :) i hope the fic manages to bring a smile on your face hehe

masterlist

There was an angry-looking Yang Jungwon standing at your door.

You didn’t know why he was so pissed. You just knew you didn’t care.

“Your incessant knocking woke me up,” you replied dryly and leaned against the door frame, arms crossing over your chest. “You better have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

“It’s five in the evening.”

“What’s your point?”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, and the corner of your lip curled up a smirk. Provoking him was always so satisfying. Always so easy and entertaining.

It was crazy how he was the sweetest person with everyone else but the moment you opened your mouth, he glared at you and looked like he was plotting your death. The discrimination and harsh treatment you’d received from the boy upon moving into your apartment had hurt at first, but you’d soon learnt to take it with a grain of salt.

You’d learnt that it was way more fun to push his buttons and see just how far you needed to take things for him to reach his breaking point.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Jungwon snapped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I need you to stop playing with my cat. Do not touch her. Do not call her name. Do not do the weird fucking meowing thing you do where she meows back at you and you have those god awful meowing conversations. Do not—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupted and pretended to deeply think about something. “I think it was just yesterday that Cleo told me you were popping a vein over her liking me more than you. I must say, Yang, you have reached a level of pathetic I didn’t even know existed. Yelling at your neighbour because you don’t get validation from your cat? Tsk.”

Embarrassment and anger coloured the entirety of Jungwon’s face a deep red. “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “Cleo keeps clawing at the front door! She doesn’t even want to stay with me anymore. She stares at me with so much resentment because I don’t let her play with you all the time!”

“I’m confused,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you let her play with me if that’s why she hates you? Your problem has a very simple solution—”

“But she’s my cat!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stepped closer to you, desperation evident on his features. “I don’t care if she plays with you, but the more she does, the more she realises that she’d rather have you take care of her.”

“Well,” you sputtered, a little taken aback by how much his cat’s preferences had distraught him. “If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t have the time or resources to look after Cleo, so she has no choice but to stay with you.”

“I don’t know how to make her love me again,” Jungwon mumbled to himself, not having heard you at all. “I know cats aren’t very loyal, but I didn’t think Cleo would dump me after everything we’ve gone through. I pay the landlord more money so she can keep staying with me without having to hide from anyone. I fought—”

“Yang!” you yelled and grabbed his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie and looked at you in despair. You’d never thought you would feel bad for him, but you found yourself offering, “Do you want me to show you how I play with her? I don’t know why she prefers me over you, but maybe I’m doing something you aren’t. Maybe you’ll know what it is if we play with her together.”

Jungwon nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Now?” you asked incredulously. “I have to meet a friend for dinner.”

“Please,” he begged, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard him sound so hopeless before. “Just for ten minutes.”

You hesitated a bit for a moment, but then reluctantly agreed. “Ten minutes.”

Jungwon watched in awe as you interacted with Cleo. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his ginger Ragamuffin so excited.

“Hey, Cleo,” you cooed, cupping her face in your hands. “How are you doing? How’s the most precious girl in the world doing?”

Cleo purred and leaned into your touch. Smiling, you caressed her cheeks and kissed her nose.

Gathering her in your arms, you stood up. The cat rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I really don’t see Cleo hating anyone,” you said to Jungwon, a small frown settling on your features. “I mean, look at her.”

He sighed and padded towards you, stopping only when he was right beside. His arm brushed against yours. “I don’t get it either.”

And then, as if to prove to you that he wasn’t lying about his cat having something against him, Jungwon lightly petted her.

Cleo’s eyes snapped open and her nails popped out. She pawed at him and he withdrew his hand immediately.

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” he lamented. “She was good to me until you came along!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Are you seriously saying this is my fault? Did you even consider the possibility of you being a horrible owner?”

“You did not just say that!” Jungwon looked extremely offended, but you didn’t give a shit. You couldn’t believe he was blaming you for his problems.

“I don’t even need to say anything,” you sneered. “Cleo running away from you to me speaks volumes.”

You saw your neighbour’s jaw clench. His hands curled into fists at his side, and you wondered if you’d gone too far. You know he loved his cat; insinuating that he wasn’t taking good care of her probably hurt.

Besides, you knew it wasn’t true. Jungwon was a huge animal enthusiast. He’d looked after a turtle when he was five and had decided then and there that a career surrounded by animals was what he wanted. He was studying to be a veterinary doctor now.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, he muttered, “I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Your blood boiled once again. “You really do have a knack for being the most ungrateful asshole anyone could ever come across, Yang.”

In your arms, Cleo meowed and lifted her head from your shoulder, staring daggers at her owner.

“Ungrateful?” Jungwon snorted in disbelief, not noticing the glares the Ragamuffin was sending his way. “You haven’t done anything since you came here! I don’t have shit to be grateful for.”

Cleo growled, and the boy finally acknowledged her anger.

You pointed a finger at Jungwon and fumed, “I take back what I said before. I do see Cleo hating you. You’re a little bitch who—”

“Oh, spare me.” He cut you off with a roll of his eyes, but you paid him no heed and continued,

“Maybe she’d like you better if you liked me better!”

The cat meowed again. The message was very clear. She agreed.

“I do like you...” Jungwon said defensively, but it was a pathetic attempt that convinced no one. Especially not Cleo.

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a humourless laugh. “You’ve obviously been a jerk to me from the very start because you think you’re the unapproachable, dark-haired, broody lead and I’m the sunshine who is supposed to make you open up.”

He gave you a sour look. “You’re not the sunshine.”

“And you’re not the main character you think you are. I’m not going to put up with your attitude anymore. Just stop being a dick and tell me what you have against me.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment. You watched as he contemplated whether or not to tell you the real reason behind his grudge, and with each passing second, you slowly started to get a good idea of why.

You knew it was going to be something stupid.

He proved you right.

“I was trying to rent the apartment you’re living in. It has a better view and is way bigger. I live with a cat and you live alone—I thought it was unfair that the landlord chose someone who doesn’t even need the space.”

You were speechless for a while. You took your sweet time to wrap your head around the fact that Yang Jungwon was one petty son of a bitch.

“That’s it?” you finally asked. “You hate me because I snagged the apartment you wanted fair and square?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

You exclaimed, “Grow the hell up, Yang! So what if I got it? It’s been six months; move on!”

“You don’t need it as much as I do!” he protested.

“You don’t know that!” you said angrily. “You don’t know me! You never tried to.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t really know what to say. He knew he was the one at fault. Maybe he should have apologised.

Too bad his stubbornness wouldn’t let him go down without a fight.

“It’s not like you ever tried to get to know me either,” Jungwon muttered.

“I brought you home-baked cookies the day I moved in. You said you didn’t want them and shut the door in my face. I invited you to my house-warming party too, but neither did you reply to my email nor show up. You really think I didn’t try to get to know you? To be friends with you?”

Your voice was laced with bitterness, but there were traces of genuine sorrow in it as well. The fire in your eyes from your bickering had winked out and you looked tired.

The boy found his resolve crumbling. Shame and guilt began to build claw at him from the inside. Maybe he had been unnecessarily harsh.

“I—uh..” Jungwon tried, “I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows. “For being so rude to you, I mean, ” he added hastily. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The apology could have been way better but you weren’t going to complain. “Okay.”

Setting Cleo on the floor again, you moved towards the front door of his apartment. “I’ll get going.”

However, before you could turn the knob, Jungwon blurted, “Are—are you free now? Maybe we can hang out and get to know each other?”

“Oh.” You were dumbfounded. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was not it. “I have to meet a friend tonight. I told you.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears a deep red. “Right,” he squeaked after clearing his throat. “Forget I asked.”

“Well—” you started after a beat of awkward silence— “I won’t be out for that long. Do you wanna come over to watch a movie later?”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

You decided that this was clearly not working out—but it wasn’t that bad. So what if Jungwon and you couldn’t hang out? You were on good terms now. That was an immense improvement in your relationship already.

Your neighbour, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to cut his losses and move on. He tried again, “The weekend?”

You paused. Racked your brain to make sure you didn’t have any other commitments. “The weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

Strangely, you didn’t correct Jungwon. He didn’t take his words back either.

Cleo’s tail swayed in silent approval.

[the-raven-lady]

Elias Rushorik: The Character Bible

Name: Elias Rushorik [Ee-lee-us Ruh-shore-rik] (referred to by battle [first] name)

Legion + Role: Night Lord, Contekar Terminator

Age: ~100

Hair Color: Black with greying along his sideburns, hairline, and nape; warm undertone

Eye color: Black with corners of white, like a dog LEOPARD SEAL

Skin Color: Ashy pale white, cool undertones

Height: 7’11 (unarmored), 9’ (armored)

Build Type: Bulging muscle, like a bodybuilder. He looks greasy.

Primary Weapons: Escaton Power Claw and Volkite Cavitator

Long Description: A wall of an astartes, covered in scars and sinewy muscle that bulges like a dehydrated draft horse. He has a prominent facial scar: a tear in his lip exposing sharp teeth and part of his maxilla. His black hair is cropped short, usually, but it's been getting feathery as of recent. Some rumors say it's the influence of his personal serf that's been seen hanging off of his giant arm, others say he's just too busy to care. No one dare comment on an astartes strong enough and more than willing to grab another's skull and crush it in his fist. He's not a talker, preferring swift and brutal action to resolve his problems like a ‘proper’ Night Lord.

Role: Neutral Evil protagonist and owner to the serf insert.

Why they have that role, based on the characters core beliefs:

He just wanted someone to do the shit he doesn’t want to do (clean his room and armor), so he steals the first serf that does a good enough job (he ate the rest)

He did not expect the consequences that would come along with taking care of someone, like actually caring about them. He, unfortunately, cannot recognize the care for what it is.

Beliefs / Quirks / Flaws: 

Cannibalistic, mostly because he isn’t fed enough. The Night Lords are not generous with their feeding schedule and amounts, sometimes not even feeding their astartes, so dude won’t turn down a good meal. He also fell in love with the feeling of flesh between his teeth.

He’ll eat almost anything though and food is the way to his heart. Well, it won’t make him inherently like you, but he’ll tolerate you if you feed him. You might even be able to bribe him with enough.

Everything is a transaction to him. “What do I get out of this?” He always wants to exit those transactions with the upper hand compared to the other party or parties involved, but it still makes him vulnerable to being bribed.

He likes having his ego stroked, but he isn’t stupid enough to fall for ego manipulation from his brothers. 

His serf, however,,,,, yeah, he doesn’t even recognize he’s being played

He isn’t lazy, just spoiled. He can and will put effort into attaining the things he wants.

If he gets bored enough, he’ll bully people, but it’s not usually lethal (unless he’s angry or hungry). 

Ex: Shoving his serf into the shower and blasting it on cold

Never shows his soft underbelly or any weaknesses openly, but if others do it to him, he will take advantage of it or clock that information away for later. He is used to others seeing any cracks in his armor as something to be exploited, so he naturally does the same.

His treatment of the serf is the embodiment of doing something good for a bad reason; the billionaire building an orphanage because he gets to name it after himself still built an orphanage. Elias’s brand of charity is the exact same. His serf is healthy and looks the best, which makes him look better. Other Night Lords want to steal her, which gives him both an ego boost and an excuse to take out his more violent tendencies while getting food and looking strong. It’s a win-win for him to put the effort into her.

He just didn’t expect to get actually attached, and because he doesn’t recognize that attachment as what it is, it’s incredibly unhealthy. She’s a prized possession, not a person.

Elias is never not going to see the serf as his property– it isn’t who he is to be empathetic. He does begin to care, in a warped sense. He chalks feelings like caring for his serf up to the same way he cares about his presentation. It’s for the betterment of himself. 

Greedy. He does not share. This includes with the other Night Lords and with the serf. His brothers cannot have his serf, and his serf cannot just have his bed (stop asking)

When he does ‘share’ or provide, it's always for his own gain. The gifts he gives to the serf are not given out of selflessness, but because he wants her to:

Recognize how capable he is (“Look at everything I can offer because of my status.”)

Realize that she's nothing without him (“You would return to feasting on vermin without me.”)

Perform at her best (“Why is there a speck of dust on my power pack? I gave you a coloring book last week, you should be efficient.”)

Disgusted by the actions of his battle brothers whilst being a massive hypocrite. He dislikes them indulging in torture that doesn’t have a reason behind it, finding the practice wasteful of energy that can be put into other avenues. Total boomer about this too. “Back in my day, we had a reason for flaying people alive”. He still uses the common Night Lord terror tactics when in battle and is genuinely no better than his brothers then. He’s just old and elitist.

Motivations: 

Obsessed with his self image and reputation to a fault in the, “Everyone just needs to remember that I am not to be fucked with,” way. Can and will prove that he is not to be fucked with to anybody that isn’t like, First Captain Sevatar or the Night Haunter.

He keeps the serf happy and healthy because he views her as an extension of himself: she’s his possession, and therefore she needs to be as perfect as he is. Well fed, well groomed, and overall healthy. He protects her the way he protects all of his things. It also makes him feel good that his brothers want his things (the serf), and gives him a sense of power that they cannot have them.

Kills because he has to maintain his power / image. He doesn’t see murder as a ‘necessary evil’; he literally just doesn’t care that people have to die. Everyone is a pawn in the game. He is going to win it.

Who they were raised to be vs who they are/are becoming: 

One of the rich Nostraman brats when Night Haunter came to reign as the Dark King. Elias wasn’t the inherently bloodthirsty type, just greedy and spoiled.

Joined the Night Lords at 12 in 896.M30 because he was sick of being forced to live like the common folk. Not the best decision he’s made, but he won’t admit to his mistakes.

Worked his way into being a Contekar because it gave him back some of his luxuries. He’s one of the first waves of Night Lords taken from Nostramo before it started being just any random criminal or street rat being let in, and he is super elitist about it.

How they feel about themselves and how it affects their behavior: 

He has a moderate lisp from the hole in his lip, which he is self-conscious about to the point that he doesn’t speak unless it's necessary.

Self-important, which makes his possessions also important to him. If someone messes with his possessions, they’re messing with him and his image, and he won’t stand for that. Some of the rags of flesh on his armor are from former brothers for this reason.

Fun Facts:

He may hate cleaning up after himself, but he does like tinkering with designs for his armor. He processes the hides and does basic repairs on his own (because, “no one would do them better.”)

Foodie. No, he will not verbally admit to this. Bring him the steak anyway.

Unlike most astartes, he did not change his name after his conversion.

Elias is prideful of a family he doesn't even really remember (after everything he went through to become a space marine) and who now are long dead. He has shaped his entire identity over being the best of what Nostramo could offer. If he lets go of his pride, he has nothing. No identity, no reason. Nothing.

Due to the above, when Nostramo was destroyed in 984.M30, he defected from the Night Lords. His face has not been seen since.

I wasn't going to drop this until after the series was finished, but I have been so busy with college recently that I don't know when that will be. I hope you enjoyed.

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual 

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

@sharenadraculea @remembrancer-of-heresy @avggendelmain @cannibalise