#how they wanted to get his turns but put him on the not ice surface & he doesn't like it

[silveredsticks]

'doing some mo cap'

[simonbrain]

simon riley who becomes even more smitten with his wife whenever she's angry at him. he doesn't know why, but seeing her scold him for something as simple as forgetting to put the toilet seat down or forgetting to grab a tub of ice cream just makes him grin. it makes him want to gently remind her who's in charge (at least in the bedroom; he knows how much power she has over him. he's weak to her).

all he has to do is cup her face and coo, "i'm sorry lovie, i'll do better." and suddenly she's not very mad anymore. if that doesn't work, he just pushes her against the nearest surface and eats her out until she's a babbling mess (he tried doing that in public one time; she waited until they got in the car to complain about that too).

her attitude rarely gets to him though. if anything, it just turns him on. although if she gets too mouthy, he'll just let her yap without saying anything, just staring down at her. that's when she knows she's in actual trouble.

after she mellows out and simon finishes having his fill of her, she'll get very shy and grumble at him for that dirty trick she falls for every time. "did i not do enough of a good job love? need another round?" she shuts up after that, turning her heated face away from simon's smug grin, the bastard.

[visionsofmagic]

◜ mk1 men breaking the bed/headboard while fucking you ◞

▸ characters: bi-han, syzoth, liu kang, raiden, kuai liang, johnny cage, tomas◂ ▸wc: 4k+ [wow]

▸ tags¬es: REQUESTED by @luvv4lurd. drabble but long (like very long), fluff, nsfw, breaking, licking, ropes, inappropriate usage of power/abilities, humiliation, rudeness, rough, biting, power, begging, fingering, swearing, monster fucking (kind of), power play, pet names, calling god/goddess, possessiveness, protectiveness & more in the work, enjoy! [didn’t want to write this long & I am not sure whether @luvv4lurd wanted it to be this long but couldn’t hold myself, they’re so cute! hope all of you like it, have fun!]◂ ▸ m.

BI-HAN doesn’t care about hurting you that much, yet, he gives you a safe word to make him stop when it is needed. clearly, he wants to fuck you well enough so that he can show you only he can fuck you like this. this goal of his brings him to an edge that he put your body down on the bed, ass up, cock thrusting deep inside your walls as your body jolts forward and backward in sync with his cock’s rhythm going in and out of your pussy full of cum - since you have cum like two times already.

he’s a bit rougher than he is usually because he heard a few other lin kuei’s members talking about you - how they are mesmerized by your presence whenever you come into view, however, they complained about how they can’t talk to you because you’re always with the grandmaster, sub-zero.

that moment, he decided to fuck you hard enough to make you have difficulties with walking, making everyone realize who fucked you - their grandmaster - they will know who you belong to and that was why he is rough right now.

you don’t complain though, well, until he makes you scream his title - “my - ohh - my grandmaster!” he loses his mind, releasing his power; hands get colder as ice appears on them from fingertips to the arm, and since his hands on the headboard, to hold it tight and fucking you with a great strength, it covers with ice, making the surface so easy to break into pieces and this is exactly what happens.

the headboard breaks into countless pieces, the room’s temperature going down in an instant, your eyes widen but bi han gains his mind’s control, hands turning to normal as they touch your waist, sending a chill down your spine with their coldness - bi han begins to fuck you harder as if it’s even possible, blaming you.

“see what you made me do whore? it’s only because of you! have to get a new one now, but you should pay for what you have caused pretty slut and you will pay by giving this beautiful wet pussy to me - to the rightful owner of it. will fuck you until you can’t walk for the next week, my dumb whore.” 

SYZOTH tries his best not to use any of his strengths during the make-up sessions you share - getting intimate yet shy while doing it. he wants you to stay healthy even after the sex, only maybe some of the marks on your body that he likes to leave. however, sometimes you become a brat, acting naughty, trying to play with his nerves of pleasure and instincts enough to make him go rougher, and since he doesn’t want to hurt you, his hands find the sides of the bed while he’s fucking you with the position of missionary, green innocent eyes focusing on your face that full of cries, parted lips, half-closed eyes watching him with such delight he wants to prove himself further – wants to fuck you so good that your body cannot forget about it in the following days until the day he fucks you again.

and he loses himself when a hand grips him by the hair, pulling his face down at your level, ear to ear, you say in a whisper which is followed by a little moan afterward, “cmon pretty boy, I know you can do better than – ohhh – this!”

who is to decline your offer? who he is to hold himself still instead of fucking you harder – better?

syzoth whimpers at your words, he lets your legs hug his bare back, hands wrapping his neck as his hands begin to hold the surface of the bedsides tighter to find a balance after shoving his dick into your wider pussy rapidly than before, roughness and lust dripping from heart to body within actions.

“oohhh –“ he moans in sync with you, “tell me how good it is my love, please, please –“ he stops himself from crying by biting down your shoulder a few times, listening to your cries mixed with both pain and pleasure with full attention, and when you praise him, his edge comes, making him lose himself, and letting his nature form in some parts of his body; a tail appears on his back, it wags on its own – eyes turn darker green – and hands are covered with the skin of his true form, all green until it reaches to the arms.

all feelings double when his strength rises, weight becomes hard to endure, dick bigger – definitely rougher, going in and out of your aching yet wet pussy, and you reach climax at the same time – the exact time when a few crack sounds are heard, causing you to look into each other’s face – looking both excited and peaceful because of reaching the climax and shocked when the bed break into two, its middle swallows your bodies as syzoth hold you from the back from an instant, turn you around so that his back meets with the rigid surface of the floor under the bed.

hands on your back, hugging, turning into human form, and tail disappears as he looks at you with innocent and shy eyes as if you’re not lying down on the ground, inside a broken bed, cums still dripping.

“I’m so sorry y/n – but it – it was too much for me to handle. my love, how can I make you forgive me? I will do anything for you – just say it and I will show how sorry I am but please don’t judge me. I can’t hold my thoughts together when I have your pretty pussy.”

LIU KANG can be the steadiest person – or a god but you don’t know any other god aside from him, but not in bed, no, never. he is that steady, straightforward, gentle, cute, and all these kinds of things under the lights of daylight, however, when it turns into a dark sky when you visit him in his room – or you in yours, exchanging a few words, questions only to begin to fuck after the formality.

it’s not that he uses you as his fucktoy – yes, it feels like it because it turns you on, but no, he’s in love with you – so deeply that he loses his mind whenever he sees you, and when it comes to getting intimate, oh, he forgets about the timeline he has created entirely, focusing on you – your pretty face he likes to watch, your magnificent body he finds as the most beautiful thing on all realms, your voice that comes into his ears as prays while you moan his name and even his title whenever you feel like it, and oh, your delicious pussy that neither his fingers, his tongue nor his dick will ever get bored of – it will be such disrespectful thing to be bored when you open your legs wider to him, showing your pink pussy that begs for his caring and affection – that he gives you what you want right away.

he’s a god, yes, but he can kneel in front of you if it is needed – to eat you out, or even to beg you.

on a night, when he lets you do whatever you wanna do with him, you chose to ride him in order to show him how you love his dick so much as he watched you from below, making you feel so powerful because of having the god of fire, liu kang, under you – moaning your name, eyes blurry, a bit of fire travels on his shoulder since he hasn’t logical side in the brain, no longer when you ride him so good – it feels as if you’re his goddess and you can’t deny that it doesn’t turn you on just by thinking about it.

smiling widely, you let yourself get the pleasure at the highest level, so, you throw your head back, and hands travel on your body from hair to shoulders, from breasts to abdomen, from there to your ass – literally exhibiting your own body to liu kang while bouncing on his lap – pussy clench around his length whenever you sit down only to rise up and repeat the action rapidly, riding him, fucking him.

and liu kang’s last logical side screams him not to hold you – because if he does it, he is sure he will break you into pieces. he doesn’t want to hurt you, especially when he witnesses the sight in front of him – breathtaking, making him lose the balance of his strength. instead of holding you, he grips the headboard behind him as he sits there, having you on his lap – watching you riding him beautifully.

then, you look down, and chuckle, “let your goddess take you to the stars, pretty boy.”

he never had this kind of situation with any other person, so, when you reflect his own words with yours – ‘let your god take you to the stars, pretty girl’ – he really sees stars, hands get tighter, and he breaks the bed with his power of strength and fire, moaning your name loudly, “aggh – y/n!” as he cums hard into your warm walls.

the moment he opens his eyes once again, he sees your smirking face first, one of your soft fingers travels on his cheek as you kneel down closer, “oh, couldn’t pretty boy resist it and cum in an instant?” you chuckle, mocking him, “where is the god of fire, huh? maybe, you should be the one who calls me goddess instead.”

he doesn’t waste a moment, holding you from the waist, he closes the gap between your bodies – nose to nose, white eyes devour yours only by looking at them intensely, and he smirks – darker than yours, radiating fire.

“darlin’, you are already my goddess but you need to learn who you belong to. don’t worry, the lesson you will have now will be enough to make you remember it to no longer forget about it. I will teach you personally while fucking you on this broken bed.”

RAIDEN is a stranger to his own power that has been given by liu kang to fight with it to protect the earthrealm, however, now it sticks with raiden every second of the day and night, and he can’t leave it even while fucking you.

he says he should get used to it in every situation. he’s shy about it while saying it but you know that there are other reasons behind the desire to bring his lightning power into the bed ‘cause, that way, he can send a tickling jolt to your body – even to your pussy, making your pleasure rise up, wanting him to continue what he’s doing.

he knows you like it too – how he can’t anyway? you love seeing his eyes turning to light blue from time to time, love to let it flow through your skin, sending chills down your spine, getting you closer to the edge.

raiden discovers your kink contains electricity accidentally, and in a weird situation when he forgets to leave his amulet bonded to his hand while getting intimate with you.

he doesn’t realize holding it even when he goes hotter as he lowers down on your body, kissing every inch of you, reaching your exposed pussy soaking wet to the ground because of his gentle, slow yet effective approaches. he’s so gentle with you that he literally begs to taste your cum in his mouth.

letting him, you lean onto the headboard, wide open legs meeting with his soft-looking eyes, making him whimper at the sight.

you look so pretty that even after having your cum in his mouth, he can’t stop - he says he wants to thank you for letting him eat you out passionately by hovering over you, hands find the headboard behind you as he thrusts into your wet and fleshy pussy again and again with a pace driving you mad.

you scream how good he’s making you - to make it double, he uses some electricity that flows through your body without even noticing it, and the sudden sensation makes you clench around his length, swallowing it entirely, giving raiden a heart attack because of the pleasure he has never felt before, and it ends up with him using his strong muscles to hold himself in balance by gripping the headboard harder, making it crumble and break into pieces in a second.

to protect you from the falling pieces of it, he lowers down, covering your body within his but it makes all things go worse – or better as you say afterward; his cock reaches the end of your pussy, and it even becomes visible on your abdomen – and the scream, moans you made causing raiden to lose his mind – he begins to thrust into you, balls hitting your ass, forehead touches yours, eyes turn into light blue when you look at them.

“you have no idea how beautiful you look right now, my love. so – so beautiful. I am so sorry to break the bed but I can’t stop now. how can I? your pussy begs for me to continue fucking you. ohhh – it feels so good. I am offering myself to you as a forgiveness gift.”

KUAI LIANG is a man who lives to give you, his beloved lover, what you deserve – the whole world, as he believes. loving doing the things you want, he’s no longer a gentleman in bed as the bond you share grows more powerful as well as the intimate sessions you have an increase in passion and trust.

he becomes rougher when you need him to be. being such a needy lover for him, you choose to trust him enough to let him have you in ways you can never imagine on your own because he looks fragile from the outside – he still is but not when you get into the bed after a long and exhausted day, ready to find your peaceful hours, inside each other’s arms which turns into a hot moment since you can never resist the urge of getting closer – he turns into a beast, you can see the sparkes he has inside his eyes – reflection of the fire he has within his soul and body.

on one of the nights you become lustful for each other, kuai has you on your knees, ass up in the air, and your second cum’s juice flows through his thick warm cock onto your inner thighs and ass, however, he can’t focus on the mess you’re making because all his attention is on your wrists which are roped with his kusarigama – it has no kama yet the coldness of metal chains around your wrists are enough to send you chills since kuai’s entire body radiates warmness.

holding your wrist, he increases the pleasure you are getting from the way he fucks you into the mattress, moans coming from you mixing with the swears and praises he says between his rapid breaths, dripping sweats and moans – only you can make him so weak, so fragile yet powerful at the same time – it causes him to try to prove himself to you in a greater way that you can never forget about it, that your body screams his markings.

the sound that is created by the lewd sounds of his thrusts hitting your soaked clit build twist feelings inside your stomach that is pushed down onto the bed as his left hand holds the wrists that have chained while the free one is put on the headboard’s edge, holding it tightly because he needs to find a source of stability to stay still but it doesn’t work – not when he finds this new angle amusing, begins to shove his dick into your warm walls faster, then, when his climax hit, the solid tool cracks – collapsing.

when he comes to his senses, getting off his high, he realizes what he has made.

he looks a bit guilty, eyes finding yours, his face has an expression of a man who seeks forgiveness yet he seems to enjoy it, and he smiles when you chuckle, joking about how he can easily turn into a madman only because of having you like this.

as he agrees, he caresses your hair, hands playing with the chain to open it. he turns your body over, hugging you from the shoulder, he still doesn’t take his dick off of you.

“’m so sorry honey, didn’t mean to break the bed but weren’t it the head of the bed, I would break you – was so good – you feel so good. fixing it will be the first duty for me after I get more of you – can I? please say that I can because I need you – one more baby, please, give me one more. promise I will be more cautious with our surroundings. don’t want to get you hurt. you will only get pleasure until we’re done, my love.”

JOHNNY CAGE can be the most reckless fucker in the whole timeline. interested in you only, he loses the last logical side of his brain – if he has any when he has you in different situations yet each one of them is as effective as the others.

being energetic, having almost superhuman strength, and going wild in sex, he is sure unreliable while fucking. creating a sense of fear with excitement in your abdomen, ideas rush into your mind as you think about what he will do differently this time in every intimate moment. his uniqueness can be pointed out even while fucking you or letting you fuck him.

he’s also loud, talkative, preferring to let you know that you feel wonderful, perfectly taking his dick – or him, entirely, destroying his mind because of the beauty you have as lust cages him like a chain.

he seems like a madman too with his mind full of thoughts about how he can turn the sex you have into something more bustling, catchy, and entertaining for the two of you, maybe a little more for you ‘cause he prefers to be an unforgettable lover. he addresses you as his queen, and he is determined to prove himself right by treating you as one.

to do this, he tries to get his ideas turn into realities while fucking you.

not caring about your surroundings, not thinking consequences of being unconcerned, not realizing what he has done until his highness’ effects of being pussy drunk decrease. the reality hit his face when he saw the world around him, you still under him, mind dizzy, mouth dry because of moaning non-stop, eyes half-closed as you looked up at his face, cries cleaning your heated face.

the bed, worth a million dollars he chose to fuck you onto, now has a broken headboard – the pieces falling onto the floor and the bed’s soft white fabric. the memories of the moment before rushes into his mind as he looks at the broken material inside his fisted hands; he understands that he is the one that caused this. he fucked your wide-open pussy so mindlessly that when he gripped the head to find something to hold on to, he broke it without realizing it. 

as you still soak wet with your cum, and his own getting out of you, he jokes about the situation; chuckling while pointing out the power he has enough to break the bed’s head in one movement, showing it to you with such proudness you roll your eyes – this time not because of his dick, but because of his silliness.

he puts his hands on your sides, smirking down at you, winking, and having no shyness about breaking the bed.

“oh princess, it was worth a million dollars but doesn’t matter. you are worth more than anything in entire timelines. to have your pussy, I can break all of ‘em pretty. but can we appreciate how strong I am? ‘is all because of how good you’re makin’ me feel – ohh, pretty lady, making my mind go crazy like that – ‘is because of you that I broke it, but, what about we break the couch too? wanna do it – wanna break it too while eating you out. c'mon princess, gotta fuck you in every piece of furniture in this house.”

TOMAS is not like his brothers – he is not like the rest of the men at all. he’s a lover who puts your well-being before anyone else, including his desires, and passionate when it comes to that decision in times he has you inside his arms, standing naked from head to toe, giving yourself completely to the man you trust the most, you love the most.

his fragile manner doesn’t let him go hard on you even if you want him to do so. afraid of hurting you even a little bit prevents him from becoming rougher and harsh to you. he listens to all your pleases, begging him to fuck you harder, wanting him to believe he can never harm you, yet, he chooses to stay still even when you act so bratty, trying to get into his nerves, making him let it go.

tomas, being a cute shy boyfriend, delicate when the matter is you, stays determined for a long time ‘'til the day you plan everything out and make him lose his gentle manner, causing the loss’s emptiness to be completed with the new one – greed.

the greed he has for you builds up from his deep soul to show itself through his actions after he sees you sitting on the bed, on your knees, the dress you wear is thin and represents the color of tomas’ armor, the delightful body underneath it is visible to his widened eyes, looking innocently yet devilishly to his eyes, smiling widely as you rise your hand for him to hold and get into the bed with you.

who he is to resist? his determination is not that great – and both of you realize it when tomas gets into the bed, a moment later, when his cock meets with your already soaked and prepared pussy after he fingers you, he feels warmness, fire building within his body, making him want to devour you, unlike the times you had before, he’s a bit dizzy now.

he moans your name over and over again, lips curl only to moan, whimper, and beg for more. you let him though, saying he can get what he needs – you say he can use your body for his pleasure, and when he finally admits it feels euphoric to go rough on you, moans coming out of your pretty pink lips like a melody to his ears, encouraging him further.

he grips you from the waist while fucking you; he uses your body as he pleases, moving your body front to back, his thrusts meet with your walls in mid-air, earning rhythmic moans from both of you.

throwing his head back, he decides to hold the bed under your body because he realizes the red marks on your waist due to the grip he has on there. when his hands reach for the mattress, he grips the white covers strongly, hands turn into fists, and those fists hit the bed’s rigid surface – the bed breaks into two the moment he cum carelessly into you after you praise him, call him your good boy.

he swears for the first time, eyes closed shut, his cum meets with yours, forehead connects with your chest as you hug him from the shoulders.

breathing deeply into your breasts, warmness flows from his breaths to your exposed skin, smoke appearing on the curves of his body slowly, and you feel his tears because of both pleasure he has felt and quilt coming from breaking the bed, making your bodies go lower a little bit.

“oh, I’m so sorry, so so sorry, didn’t mean to – I – I just want to prove myself and get lost when you moan my name like that, calling me your good – ohh – boy. ‘m so sorry my goddess, please, forgive me. wanna say it will not repeated but I can’t – it felt so good that I wanna do it again – right now. my love, would you let me do it again? say yes, and I will be a very very good boy for you – only for my goddess.”

what a journey of rut! here's a cake for you because you deserve it after reading this, bearing it with me! 🍰

❤️ tagging: @lookingforgoodthings , @snowprincesa1 [taglist]

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[luveline]

I love bombshell reader. Would she ever get jealous?

Your eye is most definitely twitching. The pull and cinch of your lashes and the delicate skin of your eyelid distracts you mildly from the sight in front of you, but not for long. 

You rub at your eye with a perfectly filed nail, smudging intricate makeup all over the place. You remember your mascara only after you've mussed it and groan in annoyance. "Fucking fuck," you murmur, slipping a hand into your jacket pocket. 

"You okay?" Emily asks. 

Using your phone screen as a substandard mirror, you clean up the smudge you'd made of your make up with your pinky finger carefully. "I'm great," you say breezily. 

"You sure? You sound stressed." 

"She's jealous," Morgan says. Smugness lines his face and the otherwise handsome set of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes at him, to his bemusement, and sit back in your cold, leather-backed chair. "Sure, Morgan, I'm very jealous. Of what?" 

"Of our baby boy's new friend, obviously," he says. 

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at Spencer where he stands at the bar, nor do you let the practised smile you're wearing falter. Your guts an aching wound and your skin flushed with heat, you reach for the cherry coasting along the surface of your drink and pull it out by the stem, twisting it between your fingers. Unbothered on the outside, and an insecure, hurt mess on the inside. 

It really looked like Spencer was flirting with her. 

You chew your cherry for much longer than you need to for want of something to do, hot tears begging to well behind your eyes. Spencer isn't your boyfriend, you've held hands a couple times and that's that. He's allowed to want someone else. Someone prettier, smaller, she'd had a head of perfect braids and a dewy, do eyed smile. Cherry swallowed, you knock back your drink. 

"Sorry," Spencer starts, sliding into the booth next to you with another cherry sour for you and what looks like an ice cold glass of coke for himself.

You hadn't asked him for a drink and he hadn't mentioned getting you one. For a moment, the ugly weight of envy lifts from your shoulders. "Oh, thank you." 

"I just met this girl at the bar and she had something very interesting to ask me," Spencer says. 

You don't want to hear it. Morgan absolutely does, and with Emily to encourage him, they're happy happy torture you both. "Why's Penelope taking so long?" you ask, trying to change the subject too late. 

"What did she want, loverboy?" Morgan asks.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Spencer asks you.

Mortified, you stare at him. Plainly hurt, to his surprise, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Because she wants to ask you out?" Spencer's knee bumps yours. "She thinks you're, quote, intimidatingly pretty." 

Emily and Morgan laugh together gleefully. You're glad this is entertaining for them, but mostly you're relieved. You pick up your drink and take a sip, looking over Spencer's shoulder into the bar for the girl he'd been speaking with. She smiles shyly. 

"I'm assuming this is from her?" 

"What? No, that's from me." 

Your gaze flickers back to him. "Really?" 

"That's my boy," Morgan jokes, swinging his arm behind Emily's seat. She laughs approvingly. 

Firmly back on stable footing, you give Spencer your stickiest grin, looking over his pretty face greedily. He's looking at your drinks rather than you but his torso is turned your way, the backs of his fingers brushing your stocking clad thigh. "Maybe I should go let her down gently?" you murmur, shifting in your seat to turn his way too, flirting with the idea of touching his cheek. 

"You might not need to," he says. 

"How come?" you ask. 

"Well, I… I sort of implied you were taken. You know. With the drink. And I also might've said you weren't interested." 

"Yeah?" You put your hand on his shoulder, tracing a whisper of a path up the slope of it to the base of his throat. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not." 

Emily shakes the small bowl of roasted peanuts, a deviousness about her as she says, "Good for all of us. I've never seen Y/N that jealous before. For once, I thought we'd have to protect her from you." 

You could kill her. Flustered, you tilt your head to one side and look out over nothing, mumbling, "I wouldn't say I was that jealous." 

"No?" Spencer asks. "I can go tell her you've changed your mind." 

"Don't push your luck, Reid." 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Even if the sky was falling

Part II

warning: fighting, blood, sexual tension if you squint, fire and angst… 😈

request: had this thought about azriel xteacher!reader fem or gn if you prefer and reader teaches nyx so the IC interacts with the reader a lot and all love her and think she’d be perfect with az but he’s too much of a wimp to make it official but they are still flirty. basically fate makes him man up when nyx’s class is attacked and reader is trying to protect him and then az saves the day.

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Nyx, as much as he was brave and outgoing with his family, turned into the shell of himself when exposed to people he didn’t know. And while he loved to learn and genuinely was a curious kid, school hadn’t come easy for him. “We would be nowhere close to where we are now if not for Y/n”, Feyre mused once the conversation had once again slipped to Nyx over dinner. “She puts lots of care into looking after him”, Rhys nodded along, “He loves her too”. That had of course peaked Azriel’s curiosity. He didn’t sense danger but you could never trust anyone, especially a stranger, fully. And this was his family he was talking about. One he had sworn to protect.

That’s how the spymaster had found himself slowly walking towards the school. There had still been hours till pick-up time, but he wanted to see you in action. Working that magic of yours and magic he had seen. It had been a beautiful day in Velaris, the sun high in the sky, warm breeze rattling the leaves. The laughter was impossible to miss. It was infectious. Bumping off every surface. In the middle of it stood you, surrounded by ecstatic faces as they swarmed you. Like little bees trying to land on the prettiest of flowers.

Azriel still struggled with the concept of care and love. His imagination was wild but he could never imagine a happy childhood. A warm and safe home. He had that now, yes, but to have that from birth? To be loved from the first breath you take. That was foreign to him. So he stood there watching how you spun around in a circle. Clapping your hands to the nursery rimes the kids were belting out. And your smile had made Azriel smile too. Slightly. Ever so slightly making him smile.

“Uncle Az”, Nyx's excited voice had caught up with Azriel when he had finally crossed the schoolyard. With no effort the spymaster had caught the boy with one hand, lifting him onto his shoulder. “Have you been good today, bud”, Azriel patted him on the stomach, making Nyx nod eagerly, “I was, I was really good, right Mrs. Y/n”, his eager purple eyes trailed back to you and Azriel felt as if a goddess was now in front of him. You had been pretty from afar, but up close….

“I don’t know them broccolis, didn’t make it to your mouth did they?”, you raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. “You didn’t eat your broccoli?” Azriel looked back at his nephew who was sending silent daggers your way. “They smell like Uncle Cassian’s farts”, the boy whined. The silence felt for a moment as Azriel turned to glance at you, for some reason feeling the need to apologize for Nyx’s words only to catch a big smile. And within the heartbeat, both of you had burst out laughing. “Go get yourself a bun, you little devil”, Azriel shook his head, letting the boy down.

The promise of a sweet bun had delighted him but Nux still turned to you first. Running to hug your knees as he glanced up at you. “Till tomorrow, Y/n”, he mused, that Rhys’s smile on his face now. “You say hi to your parents from me”, your fingers threaded through his hair. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, you mussed, bending down to cup his cheek before kissing the top of his head, watching as he ran off towards the stand, Azriel’s shadows twirling alongside him.

“So, the day has come”, you mussed attention now fixed on the Illyrian in front of you. “I have no idea what you are talking about Mrs. Y/n”, Azriel's firm tone found you. “I saw you in the field, the tree was big but you were bigger”, You narrowed your eyes at him. And he thought he was smooth out there. “You sure know how to flatter a male”, Azriel mussed, crossing his arms over his chest, the toned tattooed muscles gleaming, “Nothing rubs my ego more than being called big”.

You let out a gasp, clipping him on the side with one hand, “Watch your mouth”, you shushed him, “There are kids here”. But now standing so close to him, you could feel the way your heart picked up. He was beautiful. Mother, every woman in Velaris probably had brought herself to an orgasm just thinking about the spymaster. “What would they say if they knew what their teacher was thinking about just now”, his words felt like a cold bucket, yet your cheeks bloomed red. “You’re no mind reader”, you scoffed, “Ego pressing on the little brain?”. Azriel caught your wrist, pinning it behind your back. Another gasp slipped past your lips as his chest pressed against you, “But I can smell it”, he mussed, “Come have dinner with me”. You couldn’t help but laugh, “Nice try”, you muttered. “I’ll fly you over myself if I have to”, Azriel warned. “Maybe you’ll have to come more often”, you made sure the enfaces the third to last word, causing Azriel to let out a lower chuckle, “You’re dangerous”, “Yet you are here”, you beamed at him.

It had stayed like this. This push and pull. Push and pull for weeks. Azriel had become accustomed to picking Nyx up almost every day. It was his easy pass to see you. Even if every time he walked through the gates he was met with an eye roll from you. And while you loved to prod and poke each other there had always been a sense of ease. As if finally someone had seen him. On some nights Azriel even found himself sharing the gruesome side of his job. And it had been your soft hands that had coxed him back to safety. Your eyes that had managed to see through the debris and find the truth beneath it all.

A light smile hadn’t left his face ever since and now as he finished the last bits of work for the day, he couldn’t wait to go get you. Drop Nyx home and spend the evening together. Just you and him. That was until something flashed across the sky. Azriel frowned pushing his chair back. Just he didn’t make it far as a loud explosion rattled the buildings. Alarms rang through the city as people started screaming outside. He was about to rush through the doors when his shadows slammed right into him. Bringing with them the sound of screaming. Children screaming. Women screaming. And a familiar voice there. Your voice and his whole body ran cold.

Everything had died down after that, all Azriel heard was static as he winnowed in front of a burning building. Some figures draped in black swirled around the school. Daggers in hand. His soldiers were already there, falling like stars from the sky. But all Azriel could think of was you and Nyx, somewhere there in the burning building. His feet moved faster than his mind as he hit the jammed door with his shoulder, breaking it in the first time. The ashen face of an elderly woman was the first thing he saw, and a litter of kids with faces shoved against her skirt in hopes of breathing as little fumes as possible.

“Come on, my man will keep you safe”, he reached out, steadying her and then counting up the little ones. “Who else is here?”, he asked through the crackling. “Upstairs”, she sobbed, “Please”. Azriel’s head snapped to the stairs. The broken down stair that had no doubt made it impossible for the ones upstairs to leave.

He could feel heartbeats. Racking through them to find a familiar one. And then a scream tore through the walls. Nyx’s name and… He was winnowing up. Ripping door after door he searched for the place you both had to be in. Eyes burning from the smoke. “Hand him over”, a thick voice snarled. “Fuck yourself and bend over”, you wheezed. Azriel’s boot came in contact with the center of the last door. And there you were a broken glass in hand as you shoved Nyx behind you. And an ill-looking male with a bloodied sword in front of you. Azriel’s shadows swarmed him, drowning the male in the dark as they pushed through every possible way into his body, the screams filling the small space. You turned back, clasping your hands around Nyx, pressing his face into your chest so he would not have to see it. It was in the infamous spymaster in front of you, in his real and lethal form as he stepped over the body trashing beneath him. His fingers that so carefully held you now gripped the jaw of the man who had threatened your life, Nyx’s life.

“You owe me a handful of breaths”, Azriel muttered against his ear, “And I will make you pay for them. You’ll wish you never breathed at all”, the coldness poured out of him. And if not for the coughs that slipped from Nyx’s lips you were sure that Azriel wouldn’t have moved from his spot. But his head snapped to the side, the complete darkness leaving his eyes. His shadows moved around you, offering you both oxygen. In two steps he had crossed the distance between you two. In two steps that had made you curl deeper into yourself as you held onto Nyx.

Azriel's jaw flexed as he watched you recoil from him. He felt your fear, it was all over. “I will not hurt you”, he muttered, “I’ll just get you both out”, his voice was back to the honey cone smoothness, as his hand wrapped around your shoulder. “Uncle Az”, Nyx choked out. “Try to breathe as little as possible, buddy”, Azriel’s palm cupped the back of Nyx’s head, “it will all be over soon”.

It felt almost like waking up from a nightmare. The fog cleared up. Air returning to your lungs. The light of flames was replaced by the sun. There was much more noise here. The screaming. You blinked to see parents looking for their kids. Mother’s weeping. “Mom”, Nyx pushed against your chest but you clung to him, “Daddy”, his voice broke. You felt him trashing in your arms but you couldn’t let go. Warm hands slid over your hands, gently pulling them apart, “He’s safe, you kept him safe”, Azriel’s voice flooded your mind. You watch Nyx’s trembling legs crossing the distance between him and his parents. The high lord falling to his knees as he wrapped the little boy in his arms. Your legs bucked, only to be met with a firm grasp on your hips as you collapsed into Azriel’s embrace.

“I’ve got you”, he muttered, “You are safe, my love, no one will hurt you”. You looked up, feeling the sting in your eyes, “Azriel”, you breathed. “I know”, he nodded, brushing the strand of your hair away from your face. You watched him for a moment, dizziness creeping in. Until your gaze darted down slowly, where warmth had been gathering all this time. “What is it?”, Azriel asked as his eyes followed yours. You heard the breath hitching in his throat before his palm pressed against your abdomen. Somewhere deep in your consciousness, you knew that you should have screamed out. But as you watched crimson seeping through his fingers you almost felt as if this body wasn’t yours.

“Y/n, my love, can you hear me”, Azriel’s worried eyes watched you, “Fuck”, cursing he looked around in panic, “Fuck, someone, please we need a healer here”. You felt Azriel’s hand slowly brushing against your back as he lowered you onto the grass. “Keep your eyes on me”, he pleaded, “Let me see your pretty eyes, I missed them so much today, did you know that?”, he was rambling you noted, something he never did. But you nodded anyway, “I missed you”, you muttered right back as his eyes snapped to the side. He was searching for a healer you did not doubt it. “Azriel”, you breathed out, but he didn’t budge. “Az”, you muttered, bringing your shaky palm to cup his cheek.

“Don’t you dare do this to me”, he whined through gritted teeth. “Come closer”, you muttered, feeling the way his hand dug into the wound on your side. But he followed your wishes this time, leaning closer till your foreheads were pressed together. “Tell me something you haven’t told me before”, you muttered, feeling your eyelids getting heavy. Azriel nuzzled against your cheek and you could feel his tears brushing onto your skin. “I love you”, he breathed, “I’m in love with you”, that was enough to make your heart leap up, tugging at the feeling so familiar, ancient, and deep. “And I love you”, you smiled at him, “Even if the sky falls and till my last breath then”, you felt him pulling back then, pulling at the thread joining you as one. You tugged as hard as your body allowed you, watching his golden eyes till your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. Till you were sure the whole earth rattled as Azriel screamed.

[milkloafy]

PLAYING FAVORITES — ALHAITHAM

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: alhaitham is a strict landlord. he hates when people leave the front door unlocked, he hates when people forget to put their dishes away. but most of all, he hates when people do not use coasters! ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, crack LOL, roommate au, reader is roomies with alhaitham and kaveh :3, kaveh is kaveh, alhaitham is kinda silly goofy, alhaitham kinda simping for reader :> as he should

Not many things annoyed Alhaitham. 

He paused, thinking about that statement for a while. It was a lie. 

Many things did, in fact, annoy him.

But in this moment, nothing irked him more than the sight of a glass of ice water melting on his nice wooden table with no coaster underneath. And he suspected he knew exactly who the culprit was. 

“Kaveh,” said Alhaitham in frustration, his voice tired and short. “How many times do I have to tell you to use a coaster? I don’t buy them for no one to use.”

Kaveh had just taken one step into the house, and before he had a chance to breathe in the familiar air, Alhaitham was already on his case. Typical behavior for these two former friends. 

With a roll of his eyes, Kaveh sighed in indignation. “And how many times do I have to tell you, I started using those hideous coasters after the first time you told me!”

“Do you see the glass of water full of condensation on the table?” asked Alhaitham, folding his arms across his chest. He was unamused. He knew Kaveh was the cause of this. Who else could it possibly be? 

“Yes, that’s how I know it wasn’t me this time.”

Alhaitham raised his brow in question. 

“Do you think I drink water?” Kaveh retorted. “If that were my glass, it’d be wine.”

A snort escaped Alhaitham’s mouth but he didn’t reply. As much as he hated to admit it, Kaveh had a point. 

“But then, who else could have done such an atrocious, uncivilized, crass thing—?”

“Good morning, guys!” 

Alhaitham glanced down a hall and saw your sleepy but smiling figure rubbing at your eyes and yawning.  

“What’s all the noise about?” you wondered, shuffling over to the wooden kitchen table and taking a sip of melted ice water from the glass without a coaster underneath it. “You woke me up from my nap.”

His eyes widened at the sight before attempting to regain composure. Unfortunately for Alhaitham, Kaveh noticed as well. 

“Hah!” Kaveh let out a loud, incredulous laugh, looking pointedly at Alhaitham and wiping a tear of pleasure away. “I love saying this— I told you so!”

Alhaitham glared at him to shut up. 

“What did you tell him?” you asked, gaze bouncing between the two men in front of you, both confused and intrigued. 

“That I’m not the uncivilized roommate this time!” 

You blinked. “Pardon?”

“You don’t use a coaster,” explained Kaveh, speaking up for Alhaitham since Alhaitham seemed to be tongue-tied. “And our landlord over there is pissy about the melted ice staining his precious wood table.”

Your mouth opened in realization and you immediately turned to Alhaitham with apologetic eyes. “Can a glass of water really do that to such sturdy wood? I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

Kaveh waited expectantly for the scolding to come. Alhaitham would rip you apart like he did Kaveh, and Kaveh would get to say he was right all along. And perhaps, Alhaitham would even feel a little guilty for assuming the worst of him.

But instead, all Kaveh heard Alhaitham say was, “It’s okay.”

“What—?” Kaveh protested, but was pointedly ignored. 

“Water can be wiped off the surface,” Alhaitham said, trying to reassure you. “In most cases, the stains can be removed if you know how to remove them.” 

Your body relaxed at his words and you smiled sheepishly at him. “Oh, that’s a relief! Still, I don’t want to risk ruining your furniture!” 

The corner of Alhaitham’s lips twitched into a small smile of his own. “I have coasters laid out on most tables. They might be effective in preventing water stains in the future.”

Nodding profusely, you reached toward the center of the dining table and clutched a coaster between your hands. “I will use this all the time!” you promised. “And, I’m sorry again…”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Alhaitham with a shrug. 

Kaveh stood there watching the bizarre interaction with his mouth agape. “What kind of favoritism is this?”

Alhaitham glared at Kaveh as you asked him, “What do you mean?”

“Ask the landlord,” Kaveh deadpanned. 

When you looked at Alhaitham, all he could do was hide a smile. Maybe he did play favorites at times. But when it came to you, how could he not? Alhaitham was levelheaded and rational when it came to most things, so he figured it was okay for him to lead with his emotions for just one thing in his life for once— You. 

Laughing to himself, Alhaitham decided Kaveh would simply have to get over it. 

[ckret2]

One of my favourite things about the book of Bill has to be how hard it has cemented that, for all the airs Bill likes to put on, he's actually awful at manipulating people. Like if you look at the just the show, on the surface his record isn't bad. 2 1/2 successful manipulations out of 3 shown on-screen is solid. ((That is until you examine it further and realize that the 2 successful ones were done to 12 year old children who 1. Weren't exactly in the best states of mind at the time due to severe sleep deprivation/a difficult emotional state and 2. he still had to trick via his power (the fake timer on the laptop/possessing blendin so Mabel didn't know it was him)) But now? Oh man! Ford wasn't just lucky, he joined a tradition dating back all the way to humanities beginnings! Bill has been trying to get people to do his bidding literally since people had gotten good enough at resource-gathering and tool-usage to be able to potentially build his portal! And he failed over and over and over again and he never learned shit! That would be bad enough but not only did he fail at manipulating several civilzations worth of people, they ALSO constantly thwarted him in ways beyond that! He got himself banished, trapped, and annoyed to hell and back and thats just the stuff he told us! Thats not even speaking of his latest and possibly greatest fumble, failing the convince us, the reader of the Book of Bill who is canonically a fan of Bill or at least Gravity Falls into striking a deal with him. In short, if I asked Bill to manipulate a child into eating ice cream with just his words I wouldn't trust him to get it done within my or the kids life time.

Except, Bill IS good at manipulating people. You JUST DESCRIBED several examples of him being good at manipulating people.

Identifying the most vulnerable targets, the "weakest link" most likely to cave and do what you want—like children (or elderly people with dementia, or immigrants who don't understand the language well)—is part of being good at manipulation.

Identifying and taking advantage of people in a compromised mental state when they're not thinking clearly and are more likely to do what you want is part of being good at manipulation. (He didn't try to persuade Mabel to destroy the laptop, BECAUSE HE KNEW DIPPER WAS MORE VULNERABLE. He didn't approach Dipper or Ford dressed as Blendin—BECAUSE HE KNEW MABEL WAS MORE VULNERABLE.)

Just straight up lying to people—about a situation (the timer), about a person (Blendin)—is a manipulation tactic.

Fabricating a totally artificial emergency and pressuring a target to ACT NOW to prevent disaster is a common con artist trick. (See: scammers who cold call strangers, say they're from the IRS and the stranger is behind on taxes, and demand they transfer a large amount of money from their bank RIGHT NOW or go to jail—WHICH ACTUALLY WORKS A LOT, especially because people CAN'T THINK AS CLEARLY when they're panicking.)

Disguising yourself as somebody trustworthy or somebody intimidating to trick a target into obeying you is also a common con artist trick.

Not to mention ALL the work we see into how he manipulates Ford: he makes note of Ford's social isolation and how Bill can use that to his advantage; he identifies the thing Ford wants most (respect & acknowledgment for his intellectual achievements) and weaves that into his manipulation; he uses both Ford's ego AND Ford's insecurity against him; he almost effortlessly turns Ford against the one friend who adores him, making Ford think his friend's kindest attempts to help are evidence of backstabbing; and even though ultimately it didn't work, you can't say that threatening to destroy Ford's life from inside his own body was a BAD manipulation tactic.

Plus the entire muse schtick. Fooling people into thinking you're doing something magical or supernatural is such a common manipulation tactic that there's a whole name for it: "mystical manipulation." Bill does this NON STOP with Ford, and with many of his other victims.

We see him successfully talk an entire tribe into helping him build a working redwood portal—and they only turned against him when the portal started petrifying people, unleashing monsters, and creating bottomless pits. He talked the Aztecs into sacrificing 9,000 people to build a portal that didn't even work. He talked not-Disney into making a cartoon about Bill that included UNLEASHING LIVE BEES IN THE THEATER. Who the hell would think that's a good idea!

And to top it all off, he formed multiple successful cults that were ride or die for him until the bitter end. That's like the crown jewel of being good at manipulating. Bill talked a whole town into joining his cult in under a month in spite of the fact that he kept calling them plasma bags and chugging formaldehyde. Based on the dates in the document about Silas Birchtree, people were marrying into Ciphertology at least five years after Bill's puppet disintegrated and he ditched them.

Bill was good at manipulating people!

Do you know what Bill WASN'T good at? Getting people to finish and open a portal.

Largely because portals are difficult to make, and because he can only get so far into the process before it becomes obvious that this thing will destroy the world and that's usually enough to override any other threats or promises he makes.

Yeah, he says some stupid things that should obviously give him away—like talking about setting off all the nukes. He's kinda pathetic and a bit of a dumbass sometimes. But, here's the thing about successful manipulators, con artists, and cult leaders: MOST of them are kinda pathetic dumbasses. Cult leaders are idiots. There's a cult leader who preached his followers should be on minimal vegetarian diets, had his chauffeur take him out to a big fancy steak dinner, then told his chauffeur he did that to test his faith—and the chauffeur was like well okay. Cult leaders are idiots, AND YET SUCCEED. When Bill says you can get anyone to hum along with your tune if you've got charisma? He's right—that's true in real life.

Manipulators get away with manipulation not because they tell such brilliant impeccable lies that the most clear-headed rational person in the world would believe them... but because they know to tell their lies to people who aren't clear-headed and rational, and because they know using cheap tricks and false identities and lies that the victim WANTS to be true works better than a flawless story, and because they know most people tend to give other people the benefit of the doubt that what they're saying is probably true.

So yeah, he's too cocky, he's a bit pathetic, he lost a lot, he loses at the end of the book... but that doesn't mean he's a bad manipulator. It means that being good at manipulating can only carry you so far, and Bill didn't have what it takes to carry him the rest of the way.

[sturnslcver]

enemy! chris where he absolutely breaks down reader to where she has no motivation to do anything anymore and he notices n begins to feel bad

ੈ✩‧₊˚ expiated favours ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, fluff, blurb, crying

you shot chris a fond smile, proud of the meal you’d just prepared for him. you gently set it on the edge of his desk. he didn’t bother looking away from the screen occupying him as you cracked open a can of pepsi. “here” you muttered quietly, scooting it toward him. you lingered beside him for a split second hoping he might acknowledge or thank you. he didn’t. you gently shut the door on your way out to the living room.

almost immediately after you’d plopped down on the couch, chris had emerged from his room. “you didn’t put enough ice” he grumbled. “sorry” you shrugged. he slammed his glass against the counter. “so are you gonna get the ice?” you glanced at him and exhaled a long breath before lifting yourself back to your feet to fulfill his request. he took a long sip, smacking his lips together. “better” he replied, heading back towards his room. he paused before continuing. “oh, start my clothes in the washer too. i forgot.” you scooped up the laundry basket and followed behind him to his room, dragging all the clothes from the floor and tossing them up into the basket.

your feet shuffled across the hallway back to the laundry closet. you were separating the color’s and whites when nick surfaced from his room. you delicately grasped his arm, gazing up at him. “can you finish this for me? i need to lay down.” nick obliged, of course seeing the black circles under your eye. you clawed at your hair, eager to finally get into some comfy clothes and hopefully get some sleep.

you were settled on your side, in bed facing the wall. just as you were nodding off, your door loudly unlatched. “did you finish my clothes?” you didn’t retort, your back still facing him. “you used a different detergent this time. i don’t like it.” he held up his shirt, inhaling the latest scent. “are you even listening?” he questioned. you reached for the nearest pillow, placing it directly onto your head. “i asked nick to finish the load.” he squinted his eyes as if it might help the noise coming from the pillow sound any less muffled.

you shot up and turned to face chris. “you know i don’t have to do these things for you. i just do it because i want too. i like doing things for you and you don’t show any appreciation or gratitude towards anything i do for you.” you voice gradually softened as you felt a lump forming in your throat. you hid your face in your hands and began to weep. “i’m tired, chris. i’m trying my best and it’s never enough.” you felt the bed sink in a little, peeking through your fingers. chris had his knee eased into the edge of the bed right beside you. he brought his hands up, drawing yours away from your face. he placed his hands lightly against your cheeks and used his thumbs to gingerly rub away your tears. he surveyed your glassy eyes for a moment, placing one of his hands on the back of your head and pulling you against his chest faintly. he clutched you into a warm embrace.

hesitating momentarily, you brought your arms around his back, rubbing up and down repeatedly, reciprocating his affection. your fingers trickled along chris’ spine. his chin lazed on top of your head. “don’t cry. i’m sorry. i do appreciate you and everything you do for me and it’s my fault for not making it more known to you.”he placed both of his hands to the side of your head and planted a soft kiss to your forehead. “how about you let me finally appreciate you, hm? ” “how?” you chuckled eagerly.

chris raised your legs back onto the bed and signaled you to rest your back up against the headboard. he climbed up onto the bed and slid toward the bottom, placing your feet in his lap. he reverently placed a warm kiss to your ankle and began to massage your foot. “feels nice” you beam up at him. he hummed contently. the both of you exchanged a playful glance and laughed. “just tell me when to stop” chris cooed.

— a/n: i wasn’t sure how to go about the whole enemy thing because i couldn’t come up with a creative enemy backstory or a decent reason as to why they would be “enemies” also this is pretty short but i hope u still enjoy!! pls keep submitting things guys :)

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (Part 7/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

You've thought about this moment so many times. Now you're actually standing there, your hand on the doorknob of Joel's room, and you can hear his heavy breathing already.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 6.3K A/N: Are you ready? Let's gooo! In case this chapter is a bit of a long read for you -there's a short scene break in the middle, if you need it. More A/N's at the end, but thank you SO much for reading and letting me take you on this little trip in my mind!

< part 6 | series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s not a great day. 

There have been worse, of course. But running into two exes while you’re out to do errands this morning - one of them, the commitment phobe, with a pregnant girlfriend by his side - hits you with an unexpected punch in the gut. All you want now is your favorite drink, change into some comfortable clothes, and binge watch at least two seasons of your favorite show while holed up in bed. So when you park your car in the oversized garage at home, you don’t bother to head into the main area of the house and see how your mom is doing - knowing her, she’s right in the middle of online meetings anyway. 

You just want some quiet, so you make a beeline upstairs to your room, balancing your purse, large iced latte with caramel and oat milk, and your phone precariously in one hand. And just when you use your elbow to open the door to your room and scoot inside, you hear it.

A moan.

From Joel's bedroom.

You stop, fingers gripping your coffee tight as you listen intently to make sure that this isn’t something you are imagining. But then there it is again- it starts as a whimper, followed by heavy breathing, and then a loud groan by Joel. “Ohhh, FUCK. Yes, yes - take it, all of me, just like that…”

Abruptly you put your things on the nearest flat surface in your room, your heart beating fast and excitedly. You run a hand through your hair as you glance in the mirror, making sure you’re presentable - yeap, that outfit fits you just right in all the right places. 

Then you head back out in the hallway with careful, slow steps towards his room. It’s quiet for a moment aside from some heavy breathing, but right when you notice his door is slightly cracked open, you hear Joel moan again. “Fuck, baby… please…” 

You can hear his panting and grunting so well on your side of the door, and for a moment you almost consider not going in there yet. Just stand there a little longer to take in everything you can from this voyeuristic moment. There’s a perverse pleasure that comes with it, knowing what’s happening in there while he doesn’t know what you are doing, or whether you’re hearing him. It’s a power balance that you haven’t felt before. 

You like it.

But his moans - they make heat flood through your entire body, leaving you flushed and almost trembling with need for him, unable to wait longer. You bite your lip as you lay your hand against the door, then quietly push it open while hoping for the best. For Joel to lay on his bed, panting, his cock in hand or fucking a pillow while thinking of you - the way you’ve been thinking of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed perhaps, leaking all over his fingers, or maybe he likes to use a fleshlight when he gets off on his own.

Your first thought when you see Joel with his back turned to you is ‘holy shit, he’s completely naked’, followed by ‘he’s so fucking gorgeous’. You had already seen him dressed down to his swim shorts at the pool, sunkissed skin covered with droplets of water that seemed to sparkle in the midsummer afternoons. But it can’t compare to this vision of him stripped of everything, moaning in the privacy of his bedroom - the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing, ass cheeks flexing. The way his head tilts back as he gasps, damp curls sticking to damp skin, and you know that you’re already dripping wet; watching him like this is exhilarating.

“So tight for me always,” Joel’s breathing hitches, his voice almost like a coo for a moment, and then it hits you - even though your eyes hadn’t registered it at first, not at this angle. He’s not jerking off, he’s fucking someone. Short, firm but slow thrusts as he’s right at the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover, and both your possessiveness and desire flame much higher than you could’ve even predicted. 

Okay, so maybe you miscalculated. Maybe he has a girl that he is fucking on the side - but it couldn’t be serious, or you would’ve noticed it. Maybe this was *his* way of making you jealous, like you’d done the other week, making out with that jock at the party while Joel watched you. And just maybe this was still a way in for you. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d messed around with a girl because it got a guy all riled up to watch - especially if you’d let him join eventually.

Part of you wants to speak up, at least say his name so he knows you’re there, but it feels like the words all got stuck in your throat as you are spellbound by the view of him fucking into his side chick. You wonder what she looks like - if her hair style is like yours, her body type, if it were the similarities or the differences that drew him in -, but somehow it feels too invasive to just step right up there to get involved. It’d be better to let him notice you, as he’d probably first be startled, but then might invite you to join them. Let you kiss him, before you kiss her…

You hear her gasp, her voice clearly fucked up and hoarse, a whine escaping from her when Joel thrusts just a little harder into her, and he groans in pleasure. “I know, baby, I know, you feel so goddamn good,” he compliments. “I’ll give you more, don’t worry.” You can see him adjust - see him probably try to go deeper, but the angle doesn’t quite allow for it. Joel groans in frustration, then leans down as his large hands stroke his lover. “Hang in there. Gonna move you.”

You watch Joel pull out and move, from the foot of the bed to the side of it, resulting in a protesting whine from his lover that only vaguely registers with you. Because it’s impossible to look away from his profile, as now you can finally see his face; eyes dark and fiery, his curls even damper now, the strong aquiline nose and his parted lips as he’s breathing heavily. 

And then there’s his cock.

His cock, hard and glistening with slickness, proudly uncut, and your jaw nearly drops when you see something metal glisten - because holy fuck. Joel Miller has a cock piercing. Two round studs on each end of the metal bar that’s pierced through his glans, from top to bottom; you’re pretty sure that’s an apadravya. And you find yourself utterly captivated by it.

You can’t even imagine what that must feel like hitting your g-spot, but your body sure is dying to find out. The urge to tease it with your tongue while cradling those heavy balls is strong, and you wonder how the metal would taste against his skin. Just as you want to know the feeling of the sparse hairs under his navel, that go down into a more sizable bush that you had imagined - hell, you wanted to feel those hairs rub against your clit as you got yourself off against him.

Joel grabs his lover’s body and yanks it over to him on the bed, turning it 90 degrees so it’s aligned with his own again - but all of that only faintly registers with you. All you can stare at is how the muscles in Joel’s neck and shoulders flex when he grits his teeth, the way his cock twitches, and listen to his pleased growl at having adjusted his partner’s position.

He grabs his partner’s leg and brings it up to rest over his left shoulder, and you’ve been so wrapped up in watching just him that it only suddenly hits you; your earlier assumptions were completely wrong. Because the leg and foot that you see do not belong to a woman. It’s clearly a guy’s muscular calf, hairy and strong, that Joel caresses for a moment, before he brings his hand down to press against a belly that clearly has a treasure trail.

Just like that, your brain feels like it’s suddenly on tape delay. Everything moves into slow motion as you try to process reality, put some pieces together to make sense of it all. Joel fucking men instead of women simply hadn’t crossed your mind as a possibility; you had never even noticed any clues that he is into guys.

Before you can get a look at the second guy, Joel moves again and covers his lover’s body with his own. He leans on the bed with his left knee next to the man, low and quick whispers of promise and encouragement directed at him. Joel is so hard that his dick almost presses up against his belly, and you watch as his fingers move quickly, almost effortlessly. 

He grabs a hold of himself and gives his dick a few strokes, foreskin sliding up and down over his length, as he then guides the fat head back to the guy’s ass. His partner’s hips buck up when Joel fits the tip of his cock back inside of him, and Joel reassures him with a soft chuckle. “Here we go. Y’got it, always taking me so well”, Joel breathes, and both the guys moan as Joel’s cock slides right back into his lover again.

With his right hand freed up now, he runs it over the man’s thigh, spreading him a little further open for him as he finds his rhythm again. Joel’s right foot is firmly planted on the floor, and with his leg pressed against the end of the bed, it gives him exactly the balance he needs to thrust into his lover. With the man’s leg still up over his shoulder, Joel is towering over him; you feel weak simply imagining being on the receiving end. This position makes him look even bigger, even broader as the sweat drips down from his body. Most of all, the shift is extremely effective, as he’s able to fuck much deeper into the guy now. His large cock slides smoothly into the guy’s ass, who eagerly tilts his hips to further welcome Joel into him, his own belly slick as he’s leaking precum all over himself. 

“Open your mouth, take these fingers for me,” you hear Joel groan, followed by the wet sounds of the man obliging, sucking on Joel’s thick fingers. But the sight of Joel fucking into his lover is hypnotic, making it difficult to tear your eyes away and focus on anything else.

“Please…” The sound that the guy makes is muffled, almost a gasp, and full of worship and desperation. It seems to affect Joel hard, making him even more feral, and you see him shiver as he pounces into the guy.

“I know, I know. You wanna be so full of me always,” Joel hushes him, and you hear the moan he gets in response. “Every single way, huh? Taking whatever I give you.”

Finally you can tear your eyes away from Joel’s cock, just in time to see him take his slick fingers out of the guy’s mouth. You’re denied a view at the guy’s face though as Joel’s lips immediately capture him in a deep kiss, growling softly as he claims his lover with his tongue. You bite your own lip as you watch them kiss, reeling from the way that Joel is seemingly effortlessly in charge. The way he kisses is just as firm and decisive as the way he fucks, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Good boy,” Joel gasps as their kiss ends, and you see his hips slam hard against his lover. “Ooh, you’re such a good fucking boy, Marcus.”

You freeze, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe as your head is spinning out of control. Marcus? For a millisecond you find yourself trying to convince yourself that you misheard it, or that Joel was maybe subconsciously thinking of your father for some reason. While… fucking a guy. Maybe a secret crush?

But the guy’s breathing audibly stutters at the mention of the name, a clear indication that the praise is meant for him. His head tips back as he closes his eyes - and for the first time you see his face.

Marcus.

Your father.

Joel is fucking your father…

…and calling him a good boy. 

And your father was massively getting off on it.

“What the FUCK?”, you blurt out, startling both him and Joel as their heads flew up, staring at you. “What the… DAD??”

“Shit!” The expression on your father’s face falls instantly, the shock clear to see - and probably similar to what you’re feeling yourself - as panic overtakes his eyes. His fingers claw into Joel’s shoulders as he stops him midthrust, obviously scrambling to gather his wits. “Honey, this isn’t what—...”

“HE HAS HIS DICK UP YOUR ASS!! What is not—” You gasp as you immediately cover up your mouth, in disbelief with the words that fall from your lips. No, you don’t even want to hear yourself say them; they taste bitter and asinine on your tongue, making your stomach turn in a way that makes you wonder if you’ll ever be okay again. 

Right now you’re not even sure what is hurting the most and responsible for the throbbing headache you have; the rejection from Joel, his betrayal, or the fact that your father - who has been married to your mother for almost 23 years - is getting plowed by his best friend.

“I thought… But you…” The words start coming again when you meet Joel’s eyes, who are just as panicked as your dad’s, but also seem apologetic at the same time. Not for getting caught, you think, but for shocking you - for making you rapidly reevaluate everything that happened since the moment you got here, and everything you thought you knew about him. 

“You fucking assholes,” you whisper in disbelief at you take a step back, then another, which leads to you smacking into chair next to the dresser that you hadn’t even noticed. “You’re screwing each other??” you then scream as you kick the chair across the room, nearly choking on your tears. All you can do is flee the room and head out into the hallway, practically stumbling towards the staircase.

“Mom!!” 

You hate that this is your immediate response, but the urge to run to your mother is too strong to resist as your head is reeling. You have to get away from that room, Joel’s room, the sight of him and your father entwined in the sheets, Joel fucking him, folded in half - the way you had envisioned being with him, the way he would want you. Or so you had thought.

You’re not sure what burns hotter inside of you. There’s the shock of seeing your father get dicked down by a man, and the humiliation of realizing that probably meant Joel had not been interested in you at all. God, the things you had done these past weeks, throwing yourself at him in so many ways, thinking he was into the games you were playing. But as you rush down the stairs, it feels like the tears are crowding your throat because of what this will do to your parents’ marriage.

“Mom!”, you yell again, rushing through the kitchen to her office, where you don’t even pause to knock - you just push the doors open and storm in, your mom sitting behind her desk as she looks up at you in surprise.

“Sweetheart, what—“

“He’s having a goddamn affair!”, you shriek, struggling to get a hold of yourself. “With Joel! Your perfect fucking husband, he’s up there getting pounded by—“

“Watch your mouth!” Your mom’s voice cuts you off like a whip, anger written all over his face as she gets up to grab you by your arm. “Hey. For God’s sake, you don’t get to talk about your father like that.”

“Did you even hear me?” For a moment you’re at a loss for words, staring at her. “Dad is cheating on you. He’s getting fucked by Joel right the fuck now, actually. I can’t believe that asshole came to stay here for the summer and then…”

Your mom’s voice gets even sharper as she calls you by your full name now. “That’s enough. Get it together. I’m sorry you walked in on that, and I’m sure that…”

“That what? I need to get it together?”, you snap at her, pulling away from her grip on your arm. “I’m not the piece of shit husband who is fucking around you, right in your own house and—“.

“NO MORE, you hear me?,” she snaps right back at you, voice booming as she raises her hand, as if to physically stop your rambling. “What your father and I and Joel get up to in the bedroom is none of your business, young lady. Watch your mouth, this is still our roof that you’re under.”

The words feel like knives being shoved in your back, or brain, one by one by one, and for a moment you think you’re actually gonna get sick. “You knew?? You’re fucking him as well? What kind of twisted shit is this?” you manage to say at last, your knees feeling like they’re gonna give out on you. You grab onto her desk to steady yourself, your hand next to the large heavy paper weight that’s resting on some pieces of paper, and you shake your head as you’re unable to compose yourself. It’s like everything just keeps getting worse. “Jesus Christ, that’s so - I don’t want to know anything about this shit, this is so fucking GROSS.”

The 80 inch TV mounted on the wall flashes bright colors as a news chevron pop ups, the screen catching your eye before your mom can respond to you. The regret you feel for looking at the distraction hits you immediately when you see a shot of the Heroics HQ, followed by a video of your father talking to a group of journalists. 

“As a reminder, we will be back at 8 pm with our live coverage of the press conference,” the voice of a female news anchor chirps through the room. “Heroics’ leader Marcus Moreno will elaborate further on this week’s events that…” 

“STOP!” You scream the word without even having intended to, the visceral reaction to seeing a segment of him just too strong to deal with. Not now, not right fucking now in this moment. You can’t handle anything about your father anymore.

The ringing in your ears is suddenly loud, and you don’t remember picking up the paper weight - it’s just there, right in your hand, the green color similar to one of Joel’s flannels. 

Fuck this shit.

All that registers is the heavy object smashing into the LCD screen, the glass piece and the television both shattering with a deafening sound. Half of the pixels on the screen immediately turn black, showing only a fragmented view of your father’s face - he’s nodding, adjusting his glasses for a moment as he purses his lips, attention never wavering from the person who is interviewing him.

Despite her attempts to get through to you, you’re not paying any attention to your mom who is now furiously yelling at you. You don’t care what she’s saying, or how it’ll cost to replace the large television. Your mother, your father, and Joel fucking Miller. They can all go to hell.

“I hate him so fucking much,” you hiccup through tears as you sink down on the floor, wallowing in your pain and disappointment. “He ruins EVERYTHING.”

Joel’s POV

The panic in Marcus’ eyes is abundantly clear, his eyes growing even bigger when his daughter storms out of the bedroom, yelling for her mom. “Shit. Shit, Joel, we - I’ve gotta–”

Joel shakes his head immediately, his hand firm against Marcus’ chest as he stops him from getting up. “Yeah, no,” he says calmly, letting Marcus’ leg slide off his left shoulder. “You don’t gotta do nothing. And we ain’t done here.” 

The lights in the bedroom are flickering erratically, some spiking in brightness that shouldn’t be possible for regular bulbs in household lamps. Others are blinking and buzzing in a jittery way that sounds suspiciously like Marcus’ elevated heartbeat under Joel’s warm hand.

Once again Joel shakes his head. “Marcus. Look at me. Breathe.” He gently urges Marcus down on his back again, brushing his fingers through Marcus’ hair as he brings their foreheads together. 

“You’re fine.” A soft whisper, knowing it requires more attention to listen to than his usual speaking voice would. That’s exactly what Marcus needs in moments like this; something to focus on that pulls him out of his head, gets him out of the anxiety. “Hey. You hear me? Repeat it.”

Marcus shakes his head, too dumbstruck by what just happened, and almost Joel heaves a sigh against him, their noses nudging against each other. 

“Repeat. It.”

“I’m… fine. I’m fine.” Marcus doesn’t sound too convincing as he takes another deep breath, his head tilting upward as he brushes his lips over Joel’s. “Promise I’m fine,” he then manages, and as if on cue the lights around them stop flickering; some of them turning off, while others stay as they were earlier.

Joel nods, hums in relief as he lets his tongue lick softly at Marcus’ lower lip. “Good. She’s an adult - she’ll be fine too. Cranky, but that ain’t nothing new,” he muses, and Marcus’ laugh bubbles up quick and suddenly as he wraps his arms around Joel, heaving a sigh of relief. 

“But what if she…”

“No.” Joel moves up with a frown, gently shrugging Marcus’ arms off, then also pulls his cock out of him, ignoring the small gasp of disappointment that gets him in return. “Thought I told you that you’re fine. We clear?”, he asks as he gets up and reaches for the water on his nightstand, taking a few gulps of it as he admires Marcus laying there spread out on the bed.

It’s not often enough Joel gets to see him like this, just - laying down. Not doing something. The work at the Heroics HQ had been keeping Marcus away from home more than usual, which neither Joel nor Nicole were too pleased with. But it had been a very long time since anyone had been able to convince Marcus Moreno that he needed a break, no matter the tempting suggestions they’d presented to him.

“You’re so bossy.” But Marcus smiles as he watches Joel rummage through his nightstand, pulling out a few things he drops next to one of the pillows before he gets back on the bed.

“You like that about me,” Joel reminds him, leaning down to press a kiss against Marcus’ belly who groans happily in return.

“I do. That - and that big cock of yours. Good selling points.” Marcus fingers some of the gray streaks that have started creeping into Joel’s hair lately, wrapping a lock or two around his index finger. “Maybe a few other things that I like, too.”

Joel grins. “Good. Can’t live on cock alone - we’re not twenty anymore.” He rubs his hand over Marcus’ belly, watching the shivers run down to his neatly trimmed pubes. The dark hair is still sticky from all that precum Marcus had leaked earlier, even though he was no longer erect right now due to the unexpected interruption. 

Joel had not expected at first that pursuing him had really been something on her mind. He’d known her since the day she was born, a tiny pink baby crying in Marcus’ and Nicole’s arms, and he’d always felt affectionate about her. She was Marcus’ child after all, no matter how much she seemed to resent that in recent years. 

While her barging in on them had been more than just awkward, and would probably lead to some tricky conversations all three of them had been trying to avoid, it did feel like a relief. There is no way she would flirt with him again, and while he felt sorry that her feelings were obviously hurt, he was glad that he didn’t have to address any of it with Marcus or Nicole now. 

Your daughter has been calling me daddy while trying to get into my pants. Don’t know what got into her this summer, maybe some hormones hitting hard. He didn’t hold it against her, and maybe at some point they’d all laugh about it. Yet he couldn’t help but mentally revisit some moments in the past weeks, wondering when him being friendly may have gotten misinterpreted.

“Hey. Where’d you go, Miller?” Marcus’ voice and the gentle tug on his hair brings him back into the moment. Joel shakes his head as he runs his hands over Marcus’ narrow waist, giving his cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here.” He kisses Marcus’ belly button, mapping his skin with his lips and tongue as he moves lower, running his fingers through Marcus’ sticky, matted down pubic hair. “Look at you being a mess. Just how I like you.”

Marcus whimpers when Joel brushes his nose against his cock, giving him a few small licks before he runs his tongue all over the sticky head. “God, Joel. You can’t just say shit like that.”

“ ‘Course I can. Know what that does to you.” He knows they don’t have long until Marcus is  leaving again, but he’ll take what he can get for now. Teasing Marcus with his tongue and lips, toying with his foreskin - the gasps that escape from Marcus when Joel pushes his tongue inside of it simply never fail. So Joel ignores the clock on the wall, taking his time to let his mouth pay homage to every bit of Marcus’ cock and balls, feeling how most of the tension has left his body by now. His moves are slow and hazy, lips parted in pleasure the entire time as he watches Joel go down on him. But by the time he’s almost fully erect, his hips are pushing up needily, wanting so much more than he is getting right now. “Joel. Want you back inside of me.”

Joel grabs the lube he’d put next to the pillow, squeezing a considerable amount on his hand which he then uses to fists his cock, slicking himself up anew. Marcus likes it wet, messy and intense - and Joel was never shy about using plenty of lube, wanting to make sure Marcus could take him the way and for as long as he wanted to. 

He slips the three metal rings on his right hand when Marcus’ eyes are closed for a moment. They’re thick, even around his fingers, and Joel flexes them as he gets used to the initial heating of the metal to match his body temperature.

“You want it hard, baby?” Joel runs his fingers over the head of his dick, thumbing the two metal metal studs from his apadravya piercing. He still remembers the first time they fucked after it had healed. Marcus wouldn’t let him out of his bed for a full day, eager to discover all the new ways that Joel felt and tasted and responded to him. That little zing that still happens whenever Marcus cups Joel’s dick, even if he’s fully clothed. By now, Joel was more than adept at making Marcus fall apart for him so beautifully, especially with the apadravya stimulating his prostate. 

But the rings… They were still a fairly new addition, another experiment by Joel. He was no scientist when it came to electromagnetic waves, but he knew what worked for Marcus. And every time Joel fucked him while also using his ringed hand to jerk him off, the eventual release would simply knock Marcus out. Even Joel could feel the pieces of metal respond to each other, which would almost violently shove him towards a release that made his brain short circuit. 

“Yes.” Marcus’ eyes are black with need as he watches Joel, breathing heavily as he reaches out to run his hands over Joel’s soft belly. “I really… Really need it hard. Please, Joel.”

“Not gonna slow down.” He can’t help but wrap his fingers around Marcus’ wrist, bringing his hand up so he can press a kiss to his palm, nuzzling his stubble against the soft skin. “Unless you decide to safe word.”

“I know. We’re good.” Marcus’ free hand slides lower on Joel’s belly, down until he reaches Joel’s cock, the fat head leaking against Marcus’ taint. He covers it with his hand, and Joel holds his glance as he sees Marcus focus on him - his breathing easing down, eyes becoming more clear, and then Joel feels the tingling around his piercing and Marcus’ fingers. 

“Fuuuck,” he growls in a low voice, slowly - oh so slowly - rubbing his cock against Marcus’ taint, enjoying how sensitive both of them already are. Marcus’ breathing hitches, and Joel can feel him shiver as he just lets go - lets his mind go blank, stay in the moment, willing and accepting anything that Joel wanted to do to him and with him. No Heroics, no being in charge, no city of Austin.

Joel takes his time to sink into Marcus, inch by inch, knowing that if he goes too fast they’re both going to blow in no time. Once he’s fully inside he holds still for a moment, his cock throbbing from the sensation of being enveloped by Marcus.

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” The words escape from Joel’s lips before he can even think about them. When he puts his ringed hand on Marcus’ stomach, the response is instantaneous. Electricity rolls through Marcus’ body as a thunderstorm, making him jerk up, and Joel can’t control himself anymore when he sees Marcus’ pupils dilate, as he’s gasping both in pleasure and need.

“Take it. Take me, pretty boy, that’s it - that’s it, yes,” he pants as he picks up his pace. Their mouths crash together, desperate kisses from both of them as Joel fucks him, needing very little time to get both of them riding as high as they were right before they got interrupted. When Joel wraps his ringed fingers around Marcus’ cock, he feels the charge jump through their bodies - whatever that exactly means -, setting off sparks around them as light bulbs and devices start to buzz again. This time it’s no stress response, but Marcus coming apart under him, having let down all of his defenses to surrender to Joel. 

And Joel fucking loves it. It’s his absolute favorite thing in the world, taking Marcus apart and watch him get fucked up. Eyes wide and so dark as he gets all cock drunk, greedily rocking his hips along with Joel’s moves. Fingers trying to hold on to him, and digging into Joel’s shoulders, arms, and the sounds he makes as Joel jerks him off make Joel wish that he could just record them, keep them with him at all times. 

When Joel takes a particular hard thrust into Marcus, he swears that for a moment he hears Marcus’ voice on the inside of his brain. “Harder,” a plea that’s not coming from Marcus’ lips, but from somewhere deep within his chest. “Hold me down.” And that - THAT is Joel’s cue. Because Marcus may be a Heroic, a leader for their city and justice, but this… this was the man himself surrendering, this was no longer a superhero, just a desire as sharp as nails digging into Joel’s skin. 

Joel reaches up with one hand and gathers Marcus’ wrists above his head, seeing and feeling him tremble as he nods breathlessly. “Make it quiet,” Marcus gasps, and Joel takes over his mouth again with a deep kiss until all of Marcus’ words have disappeared.

“No more thinking. Want you to come on my cock.” 

Marcus cries as he nods, arms trying to shove Joel’s away, but Joel knows how he works. Knows that he’s about a minute away from losing it. “You heard me,” he runs his tongue over Marcus’ neck, then sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Y’wanted me to fuck the noise out of your head?” Joel’s hand tightens as he keeps holding Marcus’ wrists pressed down hard against the bed, feeling the shock waves that are running through him start to increase. 

The moment Joel’s ringed fingers close around Marcus’ throbbing and leaking cock, he can feel that Marcus is pretty much done for. He feels him buck up against him, hands trying to break free, but Joel shakes his head as he only holds him down more.

“I’d threaten to tie you up, but you’re not even gonna last that long, baby,” Joel coos at him, and Marcus fucking whines at him, begs him even louder this time. His cock twitches hard as Joel jerks him off roughly, electricity bouncing between their bodies in a way that makes it impossible to tell where it starts and where it ends. 

“Where d’you want it?”, Joel pants against his ear, his tight grip still holding Marcus pinned to the bed. “Tell me. Use that filthy mouth of yours. Want me to come on your face?” Marcus twitches under them, wordless, so Joel takes it a little further. “On your chest? Down your throat?”

“You know… where.” Marcus’ voice stutters, and this time there are sparks flying around Joel’s fingers, around his rings. “Ple–...”

“Use your goddamn words, Marcus,” Joel growls as he shifts his hips and drives himself home, right against Marcus’ prostate, until Marcus’ body convulses and his teeth bite hard into Joel’s shoulder.

“Inside,” Marcus sobs, and Joel feels him spurt his hot seed onto both of their bellies. “Fuck, Joel, come inside, want you to fill me up.”

“That’s right. Take it like a good boy, all of me,” Joel gasps, and then everything goes bright-hot-white in his head as his body gives out from holding on so long. He buries his face against Marcus’ neck as he shakes, fucking the last bit of his come deep into him before he collapses, completely spent.

It takes him a while to recover, only coming back to his senses by the feeling of Marcus’ lips on his face - soft kisses and sweet whispers as he cradles Joel’s head against him. Joel whimpers, then shakes his head weakly when he feels Marcus start to move - knows he’s about to get up and grab the nearest thing for clean up. “Mmmm, no, no. Not yet,” he mumbles as he puts pressure again on Marcus’ wrists to hold him pinned to the bed, stopping him in his tracks. “Gimme a sec.”

He feels Marcus’ cock twitch hard, despite being completely spent, followed by a deep sigh from Marcus. “If you do that again, I’m just gonna stay and not go back to work,” he mumbles against Joel, who can’t stop himself from smiling. Perfect.

“Got a better idea.” He smacks the side of Marcus’ ass, tilting his hips up to him so he can pull out of him with ease, going much slower than he usually does. “Stay like this for a second,” he orders Marcus, resisting the urge to spread his cheeks and watch his warm cum drip out of him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He sweeps his fingers through Marcus’ come on his belly and spreads it over the head of the compact metal butt plug he’d taken out of the nightstand earlier. No - it’s gonna have to stay in him for a while with that press conference coming up. So he takes a quick dollop of lube and slicks up the toy some more, then spreads Marcus’ legs a little wider for him.

“How about you keep that f’me, huh? Until you get back home later.” 

Marcus gasps as Joel pushes the metal plug inside of him, hips bucking up as his ass eagerly takes the offering. “No, Joel, God… I have to do a press conference,” he croaks, looking at Joel in disbelief as the static crackles between those rings, Joel’s piercing and the plug that’s now snugly inside of him. “You can’t–...”

“ ‘Course I can. Just did it. ” Joel smiles slowly, tiredly at him, as he leans down for one more kiss. “You’ll have a little something to remind you of me.” He strokes his fingers one more time over Marcus’ ass, making sure there’s no discomfort - he knows Marcus can take it, because it hasn’t been the first time Joel sent him back to work like this. Though never before when he was scheduled to talk to press.

“Bastard,” Marcus mutters, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he gazes at Joel. “Were you always such a fucking menace?”

“Yeap. That, being bossy, and having a big ol’ cock is what kept you hooked on me all those years.” Joel grins as he moves to sit up, groaning when his back protests slightly. “Consider it an incentive to come home right after you’re done.”

“What’s the reward if I do?”

A slow grin spreads over Joel’s face as he raises an eyebrow at Marcus. 

“If you’re good, I’ll let your wife eat my come out of you when you come home to us.” 

Author's notes:

1.

2. Just to make this very clear in case anyone asks: even though my reader turned out to be Marcus Moreno's daughter, this is definitely not Missy who in canon is Marcus' actual daughter!

3. If you read all the way to the end of this, I APPRECIATE YOU and I'm kissing your forehead (and then high fiving you). I did warn you that this was going to be a ride... 😈 The idea came to mind when @legendary-pink-dot said something completely random to me, which somehow triggered this fic idea, and she and @magpiepills convinced me to write it. @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem were immediately sold, and together with @sin-djarin they were SO crucial to me in helping me map out the scenes/chapters I wanted to write, and they gave me so much feedback along the way <3 Y'all are rockstars!!

Ditto for @qveerthe0ry and @perotovar - THANK YOU for listening to me go on and on about this, and @alltheglitterandtheroar for wondering wtf was going on but nevertheless taking a chance on me/this, hehehe. Finally all my love to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor who were up for pre-reading the final two chapters before I posted them; it meant so much to me that I could test it out on folks who didn't know about the premise to see how it would hit! 4. I need to give a major shout out to @radiowallet whose Marcus Moreno is very much what helped shaped 'this' Marcus for me! Her fic Pretend Alleyways (Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo) is absolute perfection and one of my alltime favorites, ditto for Like A River (Marcus Moreno x reader x Frankie Morales). Cat, your Marcus stories were the first Marcus fics that I really connected with - I'll keep forever singing your praises about it, so I hope that's okay, haha.

5. Alright. C'mon and yell at me (respectfully! not demurely), I deserve it 😈 I've been feeling like that gif of Dan in Gossip Girl for weeks now, so I'm so excited to finally share the conclusion with all of you. (Have questions? Please do send me asks or put some in a reblog!) I hadn't really ever seen an unreliable narrator in PPCU fic before, so I thought it would be an interesting challenge - and boy, it sure was, this grew a lot bigger than expected. Thank you for giving my fic a chance, I hope you liked it!

series masterlist | main masterlist

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging the chapter or masterlist - that helps to get it out there to other folks! Either way, thank you so much for reading + supporting! 🙏

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Thinking about bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara who was assigned to watch over you from your manager after finally getting your big break with the last movie you starred in. Despite not being the main character, people still adored yours. Your name trending on twitter along with the rest of the cast.

Bodyguard!Miguel who intimidated the ever living shit out of you. Towering over you and your manager at 6’9 as he introduced him to you for the first time. Miguel staring straight ahead as your manager told you his experience, hands clasped behind his back, no emotion present on his face. Not even a crack of a smile when you joked about having scary dog privileges now, just an unassumed grunt and a deadpan glance at you.

Bodyguard!Miguel who would follow you everywhere when you would step out of the house. Never saying anything more than a handful of words, grunting and tsking more than talking, using his body language to communicate instead. Raising a brow is a silent ask if someone is bothering you, scrunching his nose as a way to decline your offer to get him something every time you get a coffee at the studio lot’s cafe. (You’ll still ask him every time despite him always saying no.) The first time he spoke a full sentence to you, you had to resist letting out a gasp.

Bodyguard!Miguel who wouldn’t admit it, but he almost let a smirk surface on his lips when he saw you freaking out over the phone when you were both out. Your manager Jake had called you during your daily walk when he dropped the bomb that you were going to get the female lead for a new movie you auditioned for a few weeks ago. Finding it endearing how you were practically buzzing with excitement on the rest of your walk.

Bodyguard!Miguel who almost beat up some random intern who kept hitting on you, despite you making it very clear you weren’t interested when you had arrived on your first day on set for the table read/ first cast meet up.

—

“Here’s your script, I’ll show you towards the reading room.” Said the young twenty-something old, as he handed you the script before nodding towards the corridor of the backlot, you thanked him and followed behind him, Miguel trailing along as well. Not missing the way the guy had eyed you up and down.

“I really liked you in your last movie, you're really funny.” He quipped as he turned to look over his shoulder to look at you, slowing down his steps until he was matching your pace. You just gave him another smile and took a sip of your iced coffee before speaking.

“Oh, thank you! That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, um… hey if you weren’t busy after this, I was wondering if you wanted to go get lunch.”

“Oh… um, I’m good, thank you though.” You wanted to be nice, but you weren’t really looking for anything at the moment, wanting to focus on your career. Your response didn’t seem to satisfy the intern though. You can tell by the way his brows scrunched together for a second in irritation before the expression fell back to a nonchalant one.

“Come onnn, I know this really good burger spot downtown-“

“I’m okay-“

“Do you not want burgers? We can get sushi or-“

“Umm-“

“She said she’s good.” Miguel’s hardened voice always sent a shiver down your spine, having to take a step back when he put himself between you and the shorter male, if looks could kill…

“Lo-look man… I-I’m not trying to cause any trouble.” The cocky attitude immediately vanished from the intern, his hands now shaky as they were raised in a defensive manner.

“How about you just show her where she has to go hmm?” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Needless to say he didn’t speak another peep to you the rest of the walk.

—

Part 2<

Not proofread.

Word count: 600

taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf (if you want to be added for part two, click here)

[hrtsdevils]

dog-eared. | jh86

summary reader and jack broke up before he was drafted to the nhl. after years of watching from afar, jack finally sees y/n in person. past feelings are brought up to the surface.

pairing jack hughes x fem!reader

wc 2.6k

an my lovers… also another gracie fc sorry idk what to tell you! also for the sake of the plot pretend that the devils play the ducks on tuesday instead of vancouver thanks!!! loosely based off of everywhere everything by noah kahan ft gracie abrams

It had been years since you’d seen Jack. You broke up right before he started his NHL career as it seemed like your plans didn’t align. You’d be going to college in California, as USC had been your dream school your whole life. You dreamed of living somewhere where it was sunny and it was never freezing, unlike the weather in your hometown of Toronto. He dreamed of making it big in the professional league, which he was so close to achieving already.

The breakup between you two was mostly mutual. It happened in your 2005 Honda Civic, in the parking lot of a gas station after you had gone to buy soft drinks. The two of you could feel the breakup impending, and it felt as if the weather channel told you a meteor would be hitting Earth within minutes. As if the sun was about to collapse. The silence was deafening as you started your car, putting your drink in the cup holder. He followed suit.

“I..” He started before you cut him off.

“You think we need to break up?” You asked, giving him a soft smile. It wasn’t genuine, it was quite the opposite. You just didn’t want him to feel guilty, you thought it was the right thing as well.

He nodded softly, “I just think we’re on two separate paths… you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Your hands tensed under your thighs, as you were using them as hand warmers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttons.” That had been his nickname for you since the 8th grade. You had a perfect little button nose, and it quickly caught on and everybody would use it for you as well.

The drive back to his parents’ house was in silence, as neither of you had much to say to each other. In about ten minutes, you were parked in front of his house. “You’re still going to come to my birthday party, right?” You asked. You were turning eighteen in a few weeks, June 7th.

“Yeah, I will.” He smiled sadly, “It’s not over. We’re just separating until we get brought back together.”

You huffed, “When’s that? Whenever fate decides?”

“Precisely. Call it a dog ear.. you like to read, right?”

“Yeah, I would never doggy ear my books though.” You giggled, “Bye, Jacky.”

That was the last you talked formally. He never did come to your party, texting you an excuse about how he had a training camp that day. You didn’t believe it, but you never said anything about it. It had been years, you watched him succeed from your dorm room and then to your small apartment couch. Your roommates never understood your love for the sport, but you always attributed it to being from up north.

That was a reason, but not the only one.

Every year you anticipated the Devils coming down to Anaheim to play the Ducks. That was practically the only time you watched Jack in person. You were particularly excited this year, as his little brother Luke would be playing too. You adored Luke, he was so sweet and well-mannered, especially to you. Trevor would also be there. He wouldn’t be playing as he was injured, but you’d caught him after a few games to catch up and he was your little piece of Michigan in California.

It was a Friday game, which met that the tickets were slightly higher and there were fewer of them. You finally got your good friend, Cecilia, to agree to go with you. She was familiar with your love of hockey, and she knew you went to a lot of games. She didn’t know you knew two players on the ice, and two players up in the press box. As you were buying your tickets with her, you got a text from Trevor.

trevor zegras 🐣 : hey buttons r u coming to the game? idk cause jacks playing

You hastily replied, trying to shield your phone from Cece in the most subtle way possible.

y/n buttons : yeahhhh i was jst about to buy my tickets bahaha

trevor zegras 🐣 : don’t buy them ❌❌ i have a club ticket right above the benches if u want it

y/n buttons : usually yes i’d love to but i’m bringing my friend cece

trevor zegras 🐣 : i have 2! i’ll send em to u later

y/n buttons : thanks trev i appreciate u ☺️

You put your phone down and closed your laptop. Cece was a couple feet away on hers, but looked at you when your laptop snapped shut. “Did you buy them?” She questioned, scooting closer to you. You shook your head.

“Kind of? Well, one of my friends is on the team and he’s injured, he offered us seats right behind the bench.”

Her jaw fell slightly, “You never told me you had connections!”

You smiled, “I don’t really, I usually buy my tickets. This was a first time thing, I think he might be drunk.” You tried to explain it in the least suspicious way possible. You didn’t want to seem boastful, but an explaination had to come from somewhere.

You two discussed the arrangements for a couple minutes longer. From outfits to hair to transportation, you were more excited for this game than you had been for any others. Maybe it was because it was Jack’s team, or maybe it was because someone finally seemed to share your admiration for the sport.

Who knows, it was probably the latter.

The day came quick, as it was only a day or two out from your initial conversation. The tickets usually dropped in price right before the game, but luckily you didn’t have to spend the money on it regardless. You lended Cece a Zegras jersey that he got you, while you chose to wear an unnamed 30th anniversary jersey. You still had a few hoodies with Jack’s last name on the back, from his time with USNDTP, but you wouldn’t be wearing those tonight.

You arrived shortly before warm-ups, but when you looked at your section and seat numbers you realized Trevor wasn’t lying about you being right behind the bench. He just never mentioned that it was the away bench. You watched from your seat as the boys entered from the tunnel. They weren’t facing you, but you watched to make sure they didn’t turn around at least not now.

You managed to go a little while without being seen by Luke or Jack, that was until Cecelia got extremely into the game. The Devils had a goal in the late first period, opening up the scoring. Luke was sitting on the bench about a foot to the left of Cece, and once they scored she started banging on the glass.

As he stood up to cheer, he turned around due to the banging. The first thing he did was make eye contact with you. His eyebrows raised, and he blinked as if you’d disappear when his eyes opened. He didn’t say anything as you tried to avoid his gaze, and simply turned back around.

The game continued on, and you didn’t see him say anything to Jack. Soon enough, it was intermission and you felt safer. Like eyes weren’t on you anymore, even though they never were. It went by fairly quickly as the two of you watched the silly halftime games that usually were played by young children. As soon as the Devils came back through the tunnel, Jack turned around and looked at you. He kept sneaking glances as they warmed up again before the start of the second.

The rest of the game wasn’t as fun, as the brunette kept staring at you. As if you couldn’t go to hockey games, his hockey games. As if he couldn’t help looking at you. As if he missed you.

It didn’t help that Cece kept shouting at you, telling you that the cute one kept staring at you and that he wanted you. You knew her best interest was at heart, but she had no idea the magnitude of your situation with said cute one. You entertained her teasing of you, and how she kept pointing at you everytime Jack glanced your way.

By the end of the game you were over it. You wanted to escape and go home before the off chance that you ran into Jack actually happened. It was relieving when you got into the car, but startling when your phone lit up with a single message from Jack. Cece was giggling to herself, looking up one of the cute guys she saw on Instagram. She was oblivious to the situation

jack hughes : hi why were u there

You tried to think of an excuse, but eventually you realized it wouldn’t matter if you told the truth or not.

buttons 🩷 : because i was given tix my trevor.. and i go to a lot of ducks games

jack hughes : oh no other reason?

buttons 🩷 : u think i went for u?

jack hughes : maybe a little. sorry for bothering u buttons.

buttons 🩷 : don’t be sorry. how long are you in anaheim?

jack hughes : tonight n then flying up to seattle

buttons 🩷 : where r u staying?

It was a twenty minute drive back up to your apartment, but with your speeding it was around seventeen. Cece didn’t question your urgency as you dropped her off at your shared apartment, and left immediately after. She was a little bit tipsy. As you drove to the Marriott in Anaheim, you thought about what you were doing.

Throwing away years of peace for the same boy who disrupted it all those years ago. If you started to have feelings for him again, who knows how much you life could be uprooted? Everything could be ruined. All the progress and the getting over Jack. Your Jack. You knew you were risking your own personal journey by going to see him, but at this point you didn’t care.

The hotel receptionist was reluctant to let you up, as she knew who was staying there. The skepticism on her face was present from the very moment you walked in.

“Look, I know him and I know his room number, so can you just let me go up?” You pleaded with hed. Going to a room usually wasn’t necessarily an issue, the issue here was that a sports team was staying. She might’ve thought you were a crazy stalker fan.

As she was about to answer, Jack exited the elevator and spotted you talking to the receptionist. “She’s with me.” He told her, as he walked up to the desk. “Thanks, though.” You had texted him a minute prior about the receptionist, but you didn’t expect him to rush down.

“Hi.” You breathed as you made your way toward the elevator, “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good.” He stopped before the elevator, “Would you rather go for a drive? I’m sharing a room with Luke.”

Your story paused in a car, so you were unsure how this would turn out. Maybe it will be different this time. “Sure.” You replied softly.

You two walked to your car in silence. You were about to get in the driver’s seat, but he insisted on driving. “You should drive slow around here, there’s a bunch of cops at night because of drunk college students.” You chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you can speed.”

You buckled up, and he started your car. It was an upgrade from your Honda, being a more recent model of a Nissan. “So, why’d you come to the game?” He asked as he pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“I go to a lot of Duck’s games. Trevor plays, of course I go watch him.” You started, “He offered me club tickets, and I figured they were behind his bench. They weren’t, obviously.”

“So you didn’t go for me?” He questioned once again, “I don’t believe that, Buttons.”

You rolled your eyes, “I kind of did. I’ve been while you were playing for the last three years, but I still like hockey in general.”

“I’ll believe that.” The silence sat for a little while as he drove 25 down the city roads, the radio wasn’t even playing. “Do you think we could’ve done long distance?”

You shook your head, “No, not then at least. That’s why we broke it off. Maybe now.” You said the last part quieter, just enough so that if he wasn’t paying attention he wouldn’t have heard it.

But of course he was paying attention. You were his everything before, and possibly even now.

“Now?” He questioned, “What do you mean by that?”

“When we broke up, you said our page was dog-eared. Bookmarked. It was more like a pause until we were ready and mature, or at least that’s how I took it.”

He smiled, “I remember that. Do you think we’re ready and mature?”

You shrugged, looking at him. “Maybe, just this semester and then I’m done. I chose to graduate a semester early. I could move back east, we could be closer. Even without I think we’d be mature enough for long distance.”

The chances of this moment happening just weeks before you graduated was an alignment of the stars in itself. This could be everything you wanted, without disrupting your peace.

“If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me and Luke.” He offered, “To get on your feet, if you come back.”

“Maybe.” You hummed. His hand was resting on the gear shift, even though it was an automatic. You made a move to lay your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently.

It was a soft step in the right direction. A step to getting the love of your life back, which is what you’d wanted since the minute you broke it off. It’s been a long three years without him, he was your best friend and you intended to make up for the lost time soon enough. You wouldn’t bring up how he never contacted you either, because it was far in the past. You were both kids at the time and you can’t hold a grudge about that.

As he re-entered the hotel parking lot, you smiled at him. Your hands were now intertwined on top of the cup holder region, and you never wanted to let go. His hand was more rugged than before, matured and weathered, but it was still a comfort you had missed. He dropped it to shift the car into park.

“So, I’ll see you soon then?” He asked, as you got ready to get out. 45 minutes had passed between getting into the car and now. You conversed about your current life and your future. Your future together.

You nodded, “Yeah, hopefully. Keep in touch, okay? No ghosting me.” You stepped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side as he got out as well.

The two of you shared a hug, but exchanged little words. You could hear the cars around you, and the sounds of the city were still alive. “Bye, Jack.” You released him from your embrace.

“Bye, Buttons.” He smiled, “I’ll text you.” He turned around and walked back to the hotel as you watched, a smile gracing your features as well.

You’d love him forever, whether you got back together or not. You believed he felt the same. You were glad that Trevor had known about the seating on the tickets, and made sure they got to you. You were also glad Luke saw and recognized you. You were excited to see him. The end was over, and the new start was just beginning.

[itsswritten]

Share your pain.

Request: From anon “Hiiii would you write reader saying something hurtful to az during an argument (established relationship btw)??? And az gets upset over it but they later make up and it ends in fluff? I'm sorry I'm obsessed with hurt/comfort 😔”

Pairing: azriel x reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warings: Angst, nightmares…I think that’s it. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Summary: In the wake of a heated argument, you and Azriel find yourselves adrift, the once unbreakable bond strained... :(

A/n: hi again, hope you enjoy this. First time I’ve written a bit of angst for Azriel. Let me know what you all think! <3 - L

The air in your bedroom hung heavy, the usual sanctuary of rest and reprieve now echoing with the bitter remnants of a lovers' quarrel. You hadn’t meant for things to get this tense, but as the moon cast long shadows across your bedroom, there was no denying the unresolved tension between Azriel and you.

The first six months of your mating had been a whirlwind of passion and frenzy, a time you fondly recalled. The initial intensity of the bond was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. You had known Azriel more intimately than anyone else, or so you thought.

Yet, as the months rolled on, the veneer of your relationship began to crack. Despite the depth of your bond, Azriel remained an enigma, his troubles hidden beneath layers you couldn't penetrate. Initially, this mystery was part of the intrigue you loved about him. But as the struggles of the war haunted him, manifesting in nightmares that would leave him thrashing in the solitude of his own battles, the barriers between you grew thicker.

This particular night had been no different. Azriel, caught in the clutches of a haunting dream, had awoken hot and thrashing.

"Az… let me help you" you whispered, reaching out with a tenderness only a mate could offer.

But he pulled away. Recoiling from your touch and standing by the side of the bed. He erected an invisible barrier, refusing the solace you offered and, as always, shutting you off from the bond. 

The rejection hurt.

At times, he would freeze over, pulling a wall up so high to stop his feelings from spilling over to yours. Initially, you assumed it was to spare you the pain he felt, but with time, it began to feel like mistrust.

"Please, Azriel," you pleaded, the use of his full name an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. "Don't shut me out."

"Y/n…Don't" he bit back sharply, a flash of frustration in his eyes. The lump in your throat grew, emotions simmering beneath the surface. You were on your feet now too, flimsy night shorts and a vest hanging loosely on your frame, while the air around you turned cold. Any remaining shadows that had been soothing your skin fled to their master to comfort him.

"Is this how it's going to be, then?" you asked, your voice strained with the weight of unspoken grievances.

This was never how you imagined having a mate would be like.

Cold and lonely.

Your fingers played with the bottom hem of your sleep shorts while trying to muster through your feelings. Trying to keep calm, find the right words to soothe your partner, but no matter what you did or said, it never worked, and you began to doubt if you were the person he even wanted to find comfort in.

Your chest seized, a pang of hurt rolling through. You had hoped Azriel could feel the anguish he was putting you through, but of course, that ice wall was built up. It not only stopped you from seeing into him, but it rejected any connection from you too.

You had been suppressing your own needs and feelings for far too long, prioritising his pain over your own. You could feel the anger begging to spill over your edges.

“We might as well not be mates..” you choked out.

A gasp left Azriel’s lips as he said your name, disbelief clouding his expression at such a notion.

You knew it was a cruel thing to say.

Azriel had been waiting for this type of connection all his life. He had told you that you were worth the centuries of waiting. And even though you knew he loved you dearly, and his intentions were never malicious, he was hurting you. 

Selfishly, you wanted to hurt him back.

“Maybe you’re better off alone with your shadows” you bit out spitefully.

His gaze shattered, a flicker of pain mirroring your own. As if the mere mention of his shadows had drained the strength from him, they slumped in a rare display of vulnerability. Before he could utter another word, unable to bear the weight of your words, you stormed out of your bedroom, and out of the House of Wind.

~~~

Days passed in an agonising blur, the weight of your words lingering in the air like a heavy stormcloud. That night, you had winnowed away to a friend's apartment in the city, seeking refuge far from the House of Wind. Leaving those walls behind offered a semblance of peace, though you remained unsure of how to navigate this situation under the prying eyes of the Inner Circle.

Your friends were always lovely, but it was hard to escape the fact that they were Azriel's friends first. Azriel’s family. 

Lily, an old study companion, opened her home to you without hesitation, setting up her spare room and insisting you stay as long as needed. In moments like these, you regretted letting go of your own apartment. In the frenzy of the mating bond, you had moved in with Azriel, opting for proximity to his friends and his high lord's court.

The morning after the fight, Azriel had sent a ripple down the bond.

"Can we talk, love?"

You instantly rejected his call, erecting your own emotional barrier around the bond. The irony wasn't lost on you – you were now doing the very thing that hurt you, mirroring Azriel's tendency to shut you off. 

Perhaps a taste of his own medicine was warranted?

You had been an open book for him, laying your wounds and traumas bare. Despite the difficulty of discussing certain matters, you wanted Azriel to know every part of you. 

Yet, here you were, mimicking his defensive actions.

Azriel could probably find you if he wished. As the Spymaster of the Night Court, he likely knew your location without relying on the bond. Although he had never visited Lily's place, you were sure his shadows had scoured the city for you as soon as you left that night.

You missed them. His little minions, you would call them as a way to tease him. Always at his beck and call, and quick to caress you, much like his own touches

A pang of guilt washed over you as you recalled his expression before you left.

"Maybe you're better off alone with your shadows."

It had been a petty, low blow from you. Azriel had confided in the past that he once worried it would only ever be him and his shadows, that he was somehow cursed to not find love, companionship, a life partner. 

A soft rap at the door interrupted your thoughts. You had secluded yourself in Lily's apartment for four days now, ignoring any attempts from Rhysand to contact you mentally. 

“Y/n…It’s me” the soft female voice spoke behind the door. Feyre.

You invited your friend in. Quickly popping the kettle on and making you both tea. You sank into the plush sofa next to Feyre, bringing your teacups to the coffee table in front of you as you both idled in general chit chat. 

“How is Rhys? …and everyone?” You asked. You hadn’t realised till not being there how much the inner circle had become integrated into your life. Your days often spent with laughter over meals, mornings spent sparring with Cassain and your afternoons filled with fun company of the girls. 

And of course the nights, spent all consumed with your mate.

“Everyone is good” Feyre spoke, her smile dropping at the edges “Well not everyone” she spoke honestly. Feyre gently guided the conversation toward the true reason for her visit.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here," she said, her eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and concern.

"Did Azriel send you to check on me?" you asked, a hint of scepticism in your voice.

Feyre's hurt was palpable. "Y/N, I came here to check on you. I’ve been worried about you. We all have.” Your own gaze softened, embarrassed at the harsh assumption you had made. 

“But I would be lying if I didn't say I didn't come partially because of Azriel. I'm worried about him too. He's not acting like himself, not sleeping, not eating, avoiding us all…even Rhys and Cassian."

Your heart hurt. The bond aching at the news of your mate suffering.

"I know you want to punish him," Feyre added gently.

"I don't want to punish him," you replied, though a part of you realised that, in a way, you were. Hurting him the exact same way he had hurt you.

Feyre sighed, her gaze never leaving yours. "I get it, trust me I do. But just come home, please" she pleaded.

You sat as you recalled what she had said. Perhaps it was time. 

~~~

You waited for Rhysand to dispatch Azriel on a task before returning, unsure if you were ready to face him immediately. Feyre had kept you informed, grateful for her assistance in navigating this delicate situation.

Avoiding your shared bedroom, the space now haunted by the memories of your recent argument – you sought refuge on one of the balconies overlooking the city. The night had descended, casting the realm below into a humming sea of lights beneath the purple midnight sky.

Perched on a comfortable lounge chair, a blanket draped around you, you found solace in a book you had forgotten about. Left untouched when you departed, was laid waiting on the bedside table for you when you returned. In fact the entire bedroom looked untouched, the bedsheets had not been warmed for a while.

He’s not been sleeping. You remembered Feyre’s words from earlier, the realisation breaking you a little at your mates pain.

Deciding it was time to address the tension that lingered between you and Azriel, you closed the book and set it aside. Breaking down the emotional barrier hastily erected around the bond, you sent a gentle ripple through the thread – a subtle breath to signal your readiness to talk.

Hoping Azriel had concluded whatever task had taken him away, you pondered on the fact that, even without the ripple, he would likely sense your return. His keen senses, coupled with the vigilance of his shadows and network of spies, made you a detectable presence. You understood your mate well enough to know though that he wouldn't intrude if you needed space. 

The ripple was your invitation, an indication that you were ready to see him.

The first sign of his return was the wind, a gentle breeze brushing across your face as Azriel's wings beat the air upon his descent. Looking up, you caught your breath at the sight of your godly partner. It took a conscious effort to regain your composure, resisting the urge to succumb to the overwhelming emotions stirred by his presence.

“My love…” he breathed. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and a ruggedness that was unusual for him.

“Azriel,” you spoke his full name, tilting your head to encourage him to join you on the lounge chair. Instead, he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in front of you. 

Cauldron give me strength; he was so painstakingly beautiful. 

His large hands found your lap, yours naturally finding his fingers, tracing the harsh lines that covered them.

"I've been giving this a lot of thought," he began, his voice a low murmur. "I never meant to shut you out, Y/N. I’m so sorry”

You nodded, your eyes settling on his hazel gaze. Letting your mate speak his truth, his own self-reflections.

“It’s just always been me. Me and my shadows,” he smiled, glancing over to the little grey flurries that were now tangled up in your hair. “So when I finally met you, got you…I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared, my demons might repulse you, terrify you, make you leave me. It was... instinct. To protect myself."

Your gaze softened, the realisation settling in that the barrier Azriel erected wasn't out of a lack of trust, but rather a reflex born from deep-seated pain. 

"Azriel," you spoke gently, "I don't want to dictate how you deal with your trauma.” Your hand moved to his face now, thumb rubbing his cheek gently. He breathed in at your touch, closing his eyes at the intimacy he had missed for days. “But I need you to trust in us, in me. Let me share the burden, even if it's just a fraction."

Azriel's shoulders sagged, a mixture of relief and regret evident in his eyes. "I want to, Y/N."

"I understand it won't happen overnight. I just need you to believe that I'm here, that you don't have to carry everything on your own."

The vulnerability in your words mirrored Azriel's, creating a fragile bridge between you. His shadows, attuned to the subtleties of emotion, responded by weaving gently around you. 

"I'm sorry for the things I said," you admitted, humility colouring your voice. "I never should have pushed you like that. It's not my place to demand you share those things with me."

Azriel shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, you're right. I need to change, to let you in more. It's just hard, but I'm willing to try."

A shared understanding passed between you, a silent pact to navigate the complexities of healing together. 

"Let's start fresh," he proposed, sincerity in his eyes.

You nodded with a gentle smile on your face. The mating bond buzzed. Azriel leaned over, his lips pressing against yours in a not-so-subtle, hungry kiss.

“Now come here” He growled with a teasing grin, you screamed lightly as he pulled you into his arms as he stood. He looked at you with a feral glint in his eyes.

We have some catching up to do, my love.

[suashii]

— 𝒸𝑜𝓈𝓂𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓃 ౨ৎ

miya atsumu x f!reader. 3.1k wc. ﾉ all characters are 21+ ﾉ nsfw ( MDNI! ) ﾉ bartender!atsumu ﾉ college au ﾉ dubcon ( via alcohol consumption ) ﾉ mentions of f!masturbation ﾉ fingering ﾉ cunnilingus ﾉ protected sex ( but mentions of creampie ) ﾉ repost from an old blog!

bartender!atsumu who only picked up the job because he thought the extra cash would be nice—after all, tuition is expensive. and it’s easy—making tips that is. he’s not ashamed to admit that ladies and men alike are naturally drawn to him. all he has to do to ensure that the women who frequent the establishment leave behind a generous amount of cash is send them a couple of flirty winks and tell ‘em how pretty their makeup is. it’s just as easy with his male patrons; nod along and mumble a “yeah man” every now and then and he’s sure to go home with more than he makes in his hourly wage for the night. he never puts too much thought into his behavior or lets his attention linger on any certain person for too long, that is, until you come along.

bartender!atsumu who’s rendered speechless when he turns around to tend to your call. the glass he’s working to dry off nearly slips from his hold before he regains his composure. it’s silly—letting down his guard like that, and so easily, too—but anyone would if they found themselves in his position. even under the dim lights, he can tell that you’re beautiful. there’s a playful sparkle in your eye and he can’t help but hone in on the glossy lip you have pulled between your teeth. he has to remind himself where he is and what he’s meant to be doing. a charming smile quickly finds its way to his face as he slings the cloth over his shoulder and asks what he can get for you.

bartender!atsumu who pulls out all of his best tricks to leave a lasting impression on you. sure, he’ll show off every now and then for other customers, but it’s always mindless—muscle memory. with you on the other side of the counter, he feels the need to make an active effort in his display of flair. spinning and flipping bottles by the neck and tossing ice cubes from one mixer to another warrants cheers from patrons across the bar. throughout all of it, not a single drop of liquid hits the surface between you. when he slides you the product of his labor—the well-crafted cosmopolitan—you clap for the little show he put on just for you. it’s hard to ignore his erratic heartbeat and the way the tips of his ears heat up at your praise. he’s almost disappointed when you don’t stick around at the bar, taking the drink and wandering off to regroup with your friends. he’s almost disappointed because before you part ways, you turn around and smile at him—a smile he knows he’ll never be able to forget.

bartender!atsumu who spends the majority of his shift thinking about how much he wants to hike up that pretty dress of yours—not that it needs to be tugged up significantly higher; it’s already quite short as is. it makes him wonder who you’re trying to look so sexy for. he’s just some employee at the club you frequent but embers of irritation simmer from within at the thought of you dressing up for anyone else but him. he’s able to reel himself back in—escape from the grasp of the green-eyed monster—by finding solace in other thoughts like what kind of panties you have hidden beneath the skimpy fabric. are you wearing any at all? it takes the impatient snapping from an annoyed customer who has been trying to get his attention for atsumu to snap out of it, but his mind always wanders back to you.

bartender!atsumu who quickly learns to look forward to weekends when he knows he’ll be able to see you. it’s a shame that he can only expect you on the most lively days when he’s the busiest, but despite his hectic workload, he still finds time to steal fleeting glances of you dancing with your friends. he’s shocked when he looks up to find you and you’re already staring back at him. did you feel his gaze on you? he thought he was being subtle but you seem to have caught on quickly. and instead of ignoring him, instead of spinning around falling back into the rhythm of the music, you stray from the bunch, pushing past the sea of sweaty bodies until you’re sliding onto the stool right in front of him. you order your usual cosmopolitan and sit back while he prepares it. this time is different from the others, though, because this time, you stay.

bartender!atsumu who uses the dumb party trick he perfected over multiple frat parties to impress you—cherry stem tying. it’s silly and childish but when you ask him if he could, he can’t come up with a valid reason not to show you. and maybe he shouldn’t be using bar inventory for personal affairs—he never has in the past—but you seem to draw out a side of him that he’s unfamiliar with, one where he hangs on your every word. feeling your intent gaze on his lips as he works his tongue to loop the thin stalk around itself is nearly enough to make him lose focus—fumble. when he sticks his tongue out the reveal the tight knot, you let out an exaggerated gasp; almost as if he’d been lying when he told you he could do it easily. he smirks, you know what they say about it; anyone who can is surely a good kisser. nothing could have prepared him for your response; maybe i should test to see if it’s true myself.

bartender!atsumu who thinks that he’s never felt more frustrated in his life than he does at this very moment. and sure, maybe he shouldn’t be openly flirting with patrons while on the clock, but is the world truly cruel enough to cut your interaction short just before he’s able to see if you’re bluffing? it’s unfair to blame the unfortunate turn of events on the world when the real culprit is standing right beside you. he figures it must be one of your friends, though, he can’t be sure considering you’re the only face he can pick out in a crowd. one thing he is 100% sure about is that the girl clinging onto your arm and telling you that she’s ready to go is a major cockblock. he has no right to feel as annoyed as he does when you give in to the woman’s request, pulling out your purse to pay the tab. the feeling doesn’t fade when you lay out the amount you owe and more because he doesn’t want money from you, he wants something else. but, to his surprise, the crisp bills aren’t the only thing you leave for him on the counter; a napkin soaked through with ink scrawling out a sequence of ten numbers and a messy heart accompanies the cash. he looks up to meet your eye and before your friend drags you away, you’re able to disclose your intentions; text me when your shift is over.

bartender!atsumu who thanks his lucky stars that his coworker who was scheduled to take care of closing shows up on time. he’s never been more eager to ditch his waist apron and get from behind the counter. ideally, he’d stop at home to freshen up, to wash off the sticking scent of liquor and sweat. but when he shoots you the message that he’s free for the night and you respond by sending him an address, making a detour to his place is the last thing he wants to do. and he thinks, what’s the point if he’s going to end up needing another shower later anyway? so instead of making a left a the light that would take him home, he follows the directions the gps spouts and turns right.

bartender!atsumu who feels like his heart might just beat out of his chest as he raps his knuckles against your door. he’s not usually so self-conscious before hook-ups but something about you makes him nervous. and not in a negative sense, no, not at all. it’s difficult to describe—what’s different about this time compared to the others, but a nagging thought in the back of his head tells him that he knows exactly what it is. something sets you apart from the others and deep down, he knows that at some point, lust has grown from an inkling of something more.

bartender!atsumu who certainly doesn’t expect to see you in the same dress from earlier when you finally swing the door open. he swallows the lump in his throat to keep from gaping. it’s pathetic, he thinks, being so out of sorts when he’d seen you in that very outfit only a couple of hours ago but the light emanating throughout your living room was much brighter than those in the club—he can see much more now. he can see the way the color of the fabric compliments your skin. he can see that the dress is abundantly tighter than he thought—it hugs the curves of your hips and contours your breasts. he would have ogled your body longer if it wasn’t for your arm on his bicep, ushering him into your apartment. it’s embarrassing how that little touch can cause his blood to rush south and leave his pants feeling uncomfortably tight.

bartender!atsumu who can’t hide how stunned he is at the fact that your lips are touching his. they’re soft, even softer than they look. once he’s over his initial shock, his hands find their way to your waist and he kisses you back. it’s dizzying and he wants to blame it on the lingering taste of vodka and cranberry but he knows that’s not it—you’re intoxicating. the slow pace of the kiss shifts when your tongue runs along his lower lip in a plea for him to let you in. he obeys, parting his lips. your tongue swirls and dances with his, pressing so hard into his mouth that your teeth nearly clash against his. he’s lightheaded and his brain is telling him he needs air but all he thinks he needs right now is you. he has to physically refrain himself from whimpering when you pull away, a string of saliva following you. it breaks when you boost yourself up on the tips of your toes so that your mouth is right beside his ear. the warmth of your breath tickles and he would have flinched if it wasn’t for the single word you whispered: bedroom.

bartender!atsumu who finally, finally gets to do what he’s been thinking about for the past few weeks. your restlessness is palpable as he slowly unzips your dress. he pushes the straps aside and presses a light kiss to each of your shoulders before gripping either side of the dress, tugging it down to reveal your tits. he watches as your nipples pebble at the exposure to the cool air. he’s tempted to roll one between his fingers, to pop one in his mouth, but he doesn’t. he has more pressing matters to attend to. your dress drags lower and lower, displaying more and more skin with each yank. he’s kneeling now, face-to-face with your crotch as he continues to pull the dress down your body. the fabric hits the floor and he almost laughs to himself—you weren’t wearing any panties.

bartender!atsumu who gently nudges you back so that you’re lying comfortably on the bed. he pushes your knees apart so he can get a good look at you. and if you had been wearing panties, you surely would have soaked through them. had you been touching yourself before he arrived? were you so needy that you couldn’t wait for him? or maybe the heated kiss from down the hall was enough to turn you on to the point of nearly dripping. regardless of what had gotten you so wet, he sucks in a breath at the sight. his fingers draw up to spread your glistening lips apart and a thin layer of your essence is left behind on them. everything in him is telling him to stick the fingers in his mouth so he could get a taste but he holds back. if he’s going to taste you, he has to do so properly.

bartender!atsumu who can’t help but moan into your sex when his tongue flattens and runs up the slit, only stopping when he meets the nub of nerves at your apex. he flicks it with his tongue and huffs out a short laugh at the surprised gasp that slips past your lips. your reaction encourages him to continue and he does until he catches sight of your hole clenching around nothing. he’s not quite ready to come up from between your legs but he isn’t so inhumane that he’d leave you hanging. one of his hands abandons its place on your thigh, two fingers collecting your slick before pushing into your gummy walls. 

it’s lewd—the sound that fills the room as his fingers rhythmically pump in and out of you, his mouth latched and sucking on your clit. when you begin to squirm and whimper, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm, his tongue and fingers trade places. he’d much rather feel you come in his mouth. his wet muscle delves into your dripping cunt while his thumb presses circles against the sensitive nub. your legs tighten around his head and your hands frantically tug at his hair as you continue to climb the stairs to your climax. the taut coil in your tummy finally snaps, drawing a shaky gasp from your throat. your back arches as pleasure washes over you, the man between your thighs still languidly lapping at your folds.

bartender!atsumu who pulls himself away from your cunt to reveal the mess of spit and your release left behind on the lower half of his face. you’re still lying on your back when you speak up, telling him you’d like to return the favor. and while the thought of you on your knees, eyes wide and peering up at him as your lips work his cock is one that’s undeniably enticing, the man doesn’t think he can wait any longer. and you don’t explicitly say so, but he’s sure that neither his tongue nor his fingers are enough to satiate you. 

undressing is a blur that comes and goes quickly—his shirt gets tossed somewhere on the floor and his belt doesn’t make it out of the loops before his slacks and boxers are pushed down to and off his feet. his heavy, hard cock slaps against his stomach the moment it’s freed from its confines. the tip is a rosy shade of red and leaking with precum. you must have busied yourself while he was ridding himself of his clothes because when he looks up to ask whether you have protection, you’re already holding a small, shiny foil square out to him. he accepts the condom, carefully tearing open the foil with his teeth. he gives himself a few swift strokes before sheathing his length with the rubber and sending you a look that silently asks for confirmation.

bartender!atsumu who pushes himself past your tight ring of muscles, slowly, inch by inch with a low groan, his hold tensing on your waist the deeper he reaches. you whine at the stretch—he makes you feel so full, stuffed to the brink. his generosity doesn’t go unnoticed—stilling so you can adjust to his size—but you need more and you tell him so by wriggling restlessly. he smiles at your impatience, caressing your sides with his thumbs before withdrawing, only to forcefully drive into you. the moan you let out is near-pornographic and you have no time to recover from the particularly powerful thrust before he’s setting an unrelenting tempo. it’s simultaneously too much and not enough and even though you’re too fucked out to decipher what you’re saying, you’re sure the indecipherable babbles are begs for more. and as much as he’d like to comply, rutting his hips comes as a difficult task when your walls are clenching around him so tightly. 

so, instead, he settles for bringing a thumb down to your swollen clit, pressing harsh circles against the sensitive bud. the extra stimulation sends you over the edge, your eyes rolling back and tremors racking throughout your body as a result of your orgasm. and he almost comes with you, his hips desperately rocking into you as he chases his high. his thrusts are sloppy and rushed, hushed moans accompanying the lewd squelching that echoes throughout the room. it only takes a few more deep plunges before he’s stilling and sucking in a sharp breath, his seed spilling into the condom.

bartender!atsumu who struggles to catch his breath as he pulls his softened cock out of you. it’s a shame, really, seeing his cum pooled in a condom instead of oozing out of you. thoughts of what it would be like to fuck you raw invade his mind. what would it feel to be swallowed by your warmth, to feel your arousal soaking his length? how much better would your uncontrollable spasms feel without the protective barrier between you? would you be able to take it if he decided to fuck his cum back into you until he came again? the image alone is fuel that goes straight to his cock, his erection hardening once more. despite wanting nothing more than to find the answer to all of his questions, he’s content tying up the rubber and disposing of it in the waste bin beside your bed. he isn’t so satisfied at the realization that it’s time for him to leave.

bartender!atsumu who forces himself to bury the giddy feeling that threatens to show on his face when you reach out for him and tell him he can stay. he’s had a long night, you explain; where’s the harm in letting him sleep over? and he knows that that’s probably all you mean by it, but he can’t help but feel as though maybe, just maybe, this is a step in the right direction. maybe that nagging thought from before wasn’t so far off, maybe you want him as much as he wants you.

bartender!atsumu who has no idea that you’ve already saved his number in your phone with every intention of seeing him again.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 12] Appropriate Behavior

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*hope this makes y'all feel better

Your date progresses as smoothly as it can after Satoru leaves. You try to joke around and completely ignore the fact that Satoru is in the restaurant– It’s hard to do when both of you constantly glance his way to see what he’s doing, to see if he’s looking over at you. You don’t catch Satoru staring your way, but Suguru does. Of course, Suguru isn’t going to comment on it.

Suguru suggests getting dessert elsewhere because the dessert at that restaurant sucks; it isn’t true, Satoru took you there once years ago, and it was delicious but you agree. Neither of you want to stay there while Satoru is there. You get ice cream at a nearby place, and you feel like everything is going like it was at the very beginning of the date. The laughter isn’t as forced and conversation feels more natural.

Your night must come to an end though, and you stand in the front of your apartment a little too early for your liking, but there’s nothing else for you to do. You don’t feel like the date can go any further, even though you had many more plans for tonight. It just feels like everything went south after Satoru walked to your table.

“So…” Suguru awkwardly stands with his hands in his pockets. He hates first dates because he has no idea how to end them. You sweetly smile at him, and he smiles back. “We should do this again.”

“We should.” You answer. And you awkwardly stand outside for a moment or so, before you muster up the courage to kiss his cheek. You unlock the door to your apartment and you wave at him, “We’ll keep in touch then.”

He tries his best to not smile like a fool while he waves back. You enter your apartment, and try to quietly shut the door, believing your son is asleep. But he isn’t. He’s on the couch watching a movie with his grandma who passed out right beside him. You walk over to them, grabbing the remote control and turning off the television. Unlike his father at that age, Ren doesn’t throw a tantrum. His eyes go directly towards you and he runs your way, and you pick him up from the floor. You kiss his forehead.

“Did you have fun?” You ask, and he nods in response. He then looks at his grandmother who is fast asleep. He points at her and you chuckle in response. “What do you say, should we wake her or let her sleep on the couch?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and you raise your brows.

“Well, is the couch comfortable enough to sleep on?” And maybe you shouldn’t have asked because Ren finds any surface comfortable to sleep on, so of course he nods his head in response. You kiss his little face over and over again, and you ask, “You wanna sleep with mommy tonight?”

“Yeah.” He answers, and you put him down on the floor.

“Will you get ready for bed and then go to my room while I wake up grandma?” You ask him, and he slowly nods his head. His tiredness gets to him, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier which makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He walks away and you attempt to wake your mom up.

“Mom.” You half whisper, patting her shoulder to wake her up. You have to do so a couple of times before she finally opens her eyes. She takes a moment to gain consciousness and when she does, she frantically looks around. You laugh, and you’re glad that it’s something that you can laugh about since Ren is fine. “Ren is okay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I was so tired and he wore me down.” Your mother apologizes and you assure her that it’s okay; Ren is fine, there’s nothing you can reprimand her about. Sure, it’s dangerous to leave him unsupervised but Ren is a smart boy and she didn’t fall asleep on purpose. “How was your date?”

“Guess who we bumped into?” You respond and she ends up sighing. Maybe she should’ve warned you against dating Satoru, but since she watched you two grow up together, she thought that maybe things would work out. But they didn’t, and Satoru is entitled. He grew up spoiled, how could he not be? “It’s fine. He walked away without saying a word anyway. I don’t think he’ll do much.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t.” Your mother says, although she doubts it. She watched the boy grow up, and while she’s not sure if Satoru still cares about you or not, she knows that Satoru doesn’t like when people use his old toys. She yawns before saying, “I’m going to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When you get to work on Monday, you’re mentally prepared to deal with a bitchy Satoru. You’re ready for him to act the same way he did when you first started working together. However, he isn’t. He isn’t quite nice either, he’s silent. He doesn’t say anything to you when he walks past you. You don’t know what to say to him either, so you don’t greet him.

For an entire day, you work well without anything personal getting in the way. You hate to say that you like this arrangement better because he’s not the same cold boss, but he isn’t the one that’s trying to joke around with you. He simply does his job and you couldn’t be more grateful. Him seeing you with Suguru was the final push that was needed. Whether you’re okay with each other or not, the fact of the matter is that business comes first. 

You’re working late once again, and he’s asking a million questions. The charity event that’s coming up has to be perfect, it’s the first big event that’s hosted with Satoru in charge, and he can’t afford to screw that up. You keep yawning with every passing second since you’ve been here since the morning, and you’re sure that it’s almost midnight.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, and you shake your head even though your stomach growls. The last time you ate was more than eight hours ago. You don’t want to waste more time, you simply want to get home and go to sleep since you doubt your baby boy is still awake. “I am. You should order some food.”

You glare at him but regardless do what he says because you have no other option but to. He’s still your boss. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want.” He responds, and you’re about to argue that you don’t want to eat, but you do want to eat. You know you’ll end up wasting your time and energy by arguing that you’re not hungry. Getting something to eat is two taps on your phone screen, and then you can focus back on work. But it doesn’t seem like he wants to. You try to talk to him about the topic at hand but he doesn’t say anything. When you don’t get a response, you repeat yourself, but he replies with, “I’m too hungry to work right now.”

“I don’t see the point in continuing this. We can always start early tomorrow.” You say. It’s not like you can leave when you just ordered food. Satoru raises his eyebrows but instead of agreeing or disagreeing with you, he says,

“Contact the front desk, tell them you’re expecting a food delivery.” And you do as he says. Since he doesn’t want to continue working while you wait, you stand up from your chair and you begin to walk out of the office. You plan on calling your mom (who took after the nanny when the sun began to go down), talking to your son, and then playing some stupid game when Ren gets tired of talking to you. But Satoru speaks up, making you stop in your tracks. It’s a question that has been on his mind the entire day, “How was your date with my best friend?”

“Are you two still best friends?” You ask, turning to look at him. He crosses his arms, leaning back on his chair. You feel your face get warm as you realize you’re the last person that should probably ask that question. “It was fine. I don’t think that’s an appropriate question though.”

“Hmm… I don’t think you dating my best friend is appropriate.” He responds, and you roll your eyes. He stands up from his chair and begins to walk over to you.

“Why not?” You reply. He stands right in front of you, his hands in his pockets. He purses his lips together, wondering if you really asked that question. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before him, “You’re really the last person that’s allowed to tell me what isn’t appropriate. I hate to remind you that months within our break up you were married to another woman.”

“Well, we were broken up. Not like I was cheating on you.” He argues, making you scoff. Right, just because he wasn’t cheating on you everything is good. The whole situation stops being fucked up. He stopped being your lifelong friend, cutting off all contact with you and getting married, but it’s all fine because at least he wasn’t cheating. “That’s my friend who you’re trying to get with.”

“The same friend who had a crush on me? Didn’t you get with me knowing that Suguru had a crush on me?” You point out, making him clench his jaw. “You’re really no friend, Satoru.”

“Mr. Gojo. We’re in a professional environment, don’t talk to me like you’re my friend when we’re not.” He corrects you out of spite, and you roll your eyes at him. He says through gritted teeth, “Would you have chosen him over me?”

“Didn’t you just say that we’re in a professional environment? Why are you asking me this question, Mr. Gojo?” You laugh in disbelief. He bites his tongue and you sigh in response before nodding, “I would have chosen him over you. Suguru has never and will never treat me the way you treat me. Do you remember why you stopped being friends with me when we were preteens? Because you didn’t want to be friends with the poor girl. Suguru never thought of me as less than, but you– You’ve always managed to make me feel inferior even when you weren’t meaning to.”

It’s all lies. Given the option you would choose Satoru over and over again.

“You’re basing your answer off something that happened when we were twelve?” He asks, and you nod your head in response. You won’t elaborate further about all the instances. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“This isn’t something that we should discuss. It doesn’t matter now anyway, what’s done is done.” You say. “You’re married. Why does it matter if I had chosen you or Suguru? We don’t end up together anyway.”

“Because it hurts me.” He’s honest, and you puff out a breath. You inhale and think of what to say next. You’re definitely not getting out of work after dinner so you might as well try to make things less awkward for the night.

“Let’s get even then. If we were eighteen again and Sayo was friends with you, would you have chosen me or her?” You ask, and you feel your heart get heavy. Maybe you understand why he feels hurt because knowing that a man you loved so dearly for so many years, wouldn’t choose you if he had the chance to go back in time. But it’s not your fault. He chose to leave you. He takes two steps closer to you, dangerously getting closer to you. “Would you have chosen me or Sayo?”

“You. I would’ve chosen you.” Satoru’s hands cup your face and you watch his face creep closer to yours. You watch him, and maybe you should push him away but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything. Before you can even say anything, Satoru’s soft lips press against your own.

Your eyes are wide open as you feel his lips on yours. Should you push him away? What the actual hell is he doing? He’s married– He’s fucking married and he said he would’ve chosen you. He’s a piece of shit. He’s a fucking jerk kissing another woman that isn’t his wife.

You aren’t proud as you shut your eyes, your hands going behind his head and pulling him closer.

[beomiracles]

hii congrats on 500 !! this is my first request so plss bear with me

i've been thinking a lot about enemies to lovers(?) with ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!reader..

the two had been paired together by their coaches but they DO NOT get along

but they have such good chemistry when they perform and they feel it too

then on a day before a competition things just snap and they just cannot keep their hands off each other

again congrats on 500!! :33

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... this was such a good idea!! but idk if I like how I executed it or not (╥﹏╥) so any feedback is super duper appreciated! (I did proofread but I'm almost certain there's a few mistakes, feel free to point them out!)

wc -> 1.9k

pairings ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!afab!reader warnings semi-public sex, unprotected sex + pullout method, slight descriptions of cum, marking, hate sex?

The feeling of his warm hands on your waist causes an almost burning sensation to ripple through your body, despite the ice rink being well below freezing degrees. Your feet lift off the ground as Yeonjun’s grip on you becomes tighter. — Effortlessly, you land again as the two of you separate. Every moment on both your parts were flawless and you were more than ready for the day ahead. That was until… 

“Ow! Fuck!” You cry out in pain as your knee hits the ice beneath you. Confused, you brace yourself against the cold surface as you glance up to see Yeonjun a few paces away, seemingly equally lost. “What’s going on?” Your coach asks as he stands by the entrance of the rink, a frown plastered across his face. “You were supposed to catch me”, you seethe as you turn to your partner.

“And you were supposed to be on my left not my right”, he retorts as he glides over to reach out a helping hand, one that you push away. “No I wasn’t”, you grit out as you rise to your feet, wincing slightly. “Were too”, Yeonjun presses as he folds his arms across his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No I wasn…” — “That’s enough!” Your coach shouts as he beckons you over. With your heads hanging low in shame, the two of you skate toward him. 

He sighs as he runs a stressed hand through his short hair. “Get it together”, he pleads as he looks between your and Yeonjun’s unblinking expressions. “You guys perform so well together, learn to put your differences aside and work toward the bigger picture. We can’t afford screw ups like these.” 

Screw ups. You glance over at Yeonjun who seems just as disappointed. If anything he was the screw up and not you. He sends you a small glare, seemingly holding similar thoughts of you. “Coach I…” you begin but is quickly silenced by an accusing finger from your trainer. “I don’t want to hear it. Go home, get some rest and come back early tomorrow for a final rehearsal.” He sighs as he gives you one last pleading glance and you nod. “Yes coach.”

“This is all your fault.” 

The sounds of the locker slamming shut fills the joint changing room and you glance toward Yeonjun with a scowl. “My fault?” You scoff, sitting on one of the benches you slowly work on untying your shoes. “You’re not the one who ended up with a bruised knee.” You retort as your attention returns to the strings in your hands. 

Leaning against his locker, Yeonjun folds his arms across his chest. “You’re the one who can’t follow a simple program. How do I know you won’t mess up tomorrow?” He questions as he cocks an eyebrow at you. Frowning, you don’t look up from your skates, “I’ll mess up? You’re the one who failed to catch me.” You state as you tug at the knots, to little avail as they seemed to draw in tighter against your ankles. .

“And I would have, if you had appeared on my left, like you were supposed to.” He barks as he pulls on his sneakers. — “You always blame shit on me”, you sputter as you helplessly pull at your skates; groaning in frustration when they refuse to budge. Kicking your feet against the tiled floor, you wince as your bruised knee makes itself known once more. “Fucking piece of shit”, you mutter as you brace your hands either side of you on the bench.

Letting out a huff of air, Yeonjun runs a hand through his dark hair. “You’re fucking unbelievable you know that?” He mutters as he marches up toward you. Confused, you blink up at him, “what’re you…doing..” Without even sparing you a glance, he crouches down by your feet as he begins untying your shoes. 

“It’s an easy program, I don’t understand what about it is so difficult for you to grasp.” He grunts to himself as his lean fingers work to relieve the pressure the knots on your skates had been putting on your ankles. “Yeonjun what are you…” — “Just shut up will you?” He groans as he pulls one of your skates off before moving on to the next one as he continues his rant. 

“You’re so fucking difficult”, he mumbles as the frown on his forehead deepens. “And the worst part is, you don’t even realize it”, his words come out as a breathy laugh as he shakes his head. “Do you know how hard it is to focus out there?” He complains as he pulls your second shoe off before tilting his head up to look at you, bracing his hands on the bench either side of your own. 

Too stunned to even speak, you watch him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “What?” You whisper, your brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his blunt statements. He chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Even outside of the rink you’re fucking oblivious.” 

“Yeonjun, what are you talking ab…” 

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss to your lips and your eyes go wide as you lean back. Quick to chase after you, Yeonjun pushes you up against the locker as he parts your knees to make room for himself in between. His hands move from their spot on the bench to wander along your upper thighs and waist, pulling your hips forward as he deepens the kiss. 

Blinking away the shock, your eyes flutter closed as your hands find their way under his shirt; feeling him up the way you had undeniably wanted to for so long. The fact that you hated Choi Yeonjun was no secret, and neither was it that he hated you too. — However, the thoughts of him you allowed yourself to have late at night when no one else was around; the lingering glances when no one paid attention or the brief spark of electricity that coursed through you whenever his hand brushed against yours, those were all very secret. — You just hadn’t imagined Yeonjun to be carrying the exact same burden. 

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me”, he groans against your lips, his fingers moving to twiddle with the material of your rather short skirt. Lost in the heat of the moment you sigh against his mouth. “Then why don’t you show me?” — Pulling back to look at you, Yeonjun’s chest heaves up and down, “what did you just say?”, he asks, as if making sure he’d actually heard you right. 

You grin as your hands retract from his shirt, pushing his soft hair back, you lean in to whisper against his ear. “I said, why don’t you show me?” You hear him mutter a few curses under his breath as he glances down between your bodies. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks as he considers his options. Throwing a quick glance toward the door he then smirks, “your words, not mine.” 

With that he reconnects your lips, teeth clashing together as you gasp into each other’s mouths. His hands wrap under your thighs as Yeonjun hoists you up with little effort, just like he did out on the ice. Without breaking the kiss he walks you over to the nearest wall, groaning as your hands tug impatiently at his shirt. 

“Off”, you breathe and as he lets you pull the fabric from his body; your eyes immediately drop to his toned torso, nails trailing along the outline of his prominent six pack, recalling the many occasions in which you had ogled his chest. “Fuck you’re so sexy”, Yeonjun mumbles as his gaze focuses on the way you bite your lip as you openly check him out. Your eyes snap up to his, “yeah?” Your fingers pull at the hem of his pants and Yeonjun lets out a small sigh as his lips crash against yours. 

“Coach probably thinks we left by now…” you murmur as he moves to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, humming in response. He groans as your hand dips inside his pants to cup his cock through his briefs. “We should hurry, he might come and lock up early…” you urge as Yeonjun sucks harsh marks on your skin; you would have to cover them up for tomorrow. 

Peering over at the clock behind him, your hands push his pants down enough to pull his cock free from the confinements of his boxers; making him moan against your skin as you languidly stroke him. The same fingers that you had fantasized about so many times before slip past the lining of your panties, pushing them to the side as he makes room for himself – letting you guide his tip until it's pressing against your wet folds. 

Your head falls back and a small gasp escapes your lips as he gently slides himself inside of you, groaning at how you clenched around him. “Fuck”, he grunts as he braces one of his hands on the wall next to your head, the other one maintaining a tight grip on your thigh. “You don’t know how, fuck, hard it is to focus whenever you’re around” — “how often I think of you”, he grits out between thrusts as his lips return to your neck. 

“You think about me?” You breathe as your hands grasp his shoulders tightly. Yeonjun huffs out a short breath against your skin, “all the time.” — “God you’re so fucking annoying”, he groans and your cunt clenches at his words. You tug at the strands of his hair, bringing his face level with your own. 

“Do you hate me?” 

The question makes him smirk as he pries your lips open with his own, his tongue slipping inside easily to slide along yours. “I hate you”, he drawls and you moan into his mouth. — “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I hate you.” He pulls back to watch the way you withered under his touch a menacing look on his disgustingly sexy face. “Yet you’re all I can think about.” 

“F-fuck, Yeonjun I’m gonna…” You whimper, barely able to finish your sentence as you clench vigorously around him, pulling a groan from him when you finish around his twitching cock. It was a hundred times better than all the previous occasions in which your fingers had made you cum to the thought of him. — “Fuck, do that again”, he grunts as he snaps his hips against yours, making you cry out from the overstimulation. 

With a dazed expression you watch as he pulls himself from your dripping cunt, wincing slightly at the loss of him as your gaze drops to the way his fingers wrap around his shaft as he brings himself to his own orgasm. You shudder as the warm liquid coats your stomach, ruining your shirt as it runs down the thin fabric. His hand swipes across your lower abdomen, smearing the mess further along your clothes as he smirks. You glare up at him. “I fucking hate your guts.” — Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow at you as the smirk on his lips widens, “but your pussy loves them.”

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