#obviously still going to do what I normally do

[daiku-hokage]

Snack Time

Synopsis: You're in your second trimester of pregnancy and hormones are kicking in. Cravings hit hard but even harder for Sylus.

Sylus x fem reader

A/N: A mix of fluff and smut. The ramp up to the smut takes a sec but I promise it is there. This is my first ever fic so thoughts are appreciated <3

Tags: fluff, smut pregnancy, after care, comfort

There is no predicting how the outcome of these things go. Morning sickness and active nausea to specific scents overwhelmed you for the first month. 

While you had a knack for snacking,  recent food cravings transformed your snack supply into a bizarre territory. Mangoes dipped in peanut butter, guacamole with Cheerios and Hot Cheetos in instant ramen was even a surprise delicacy to you. Sylus found it amusing but admitted it’s not in his ball park to participate in exploring these foods alongside you. To keep up with the increasing abstract demands he had Luke and Kieran doing daily food shopping to your personal pantry. 

“Your turn today, the Miss is gonna need a restock on cucumbers, queso and lets see…Ah! Hot Cheetos flavored mac and cheese” Luke read from a handwritten note.

“Sweet Lord, I don’t know how Boss still kisses her as she is right now, last week she was eating pickles dipped in spinach artichoke dip. You can’t tell me the wind from her breath or ass isn’t gnarly as hell by now” Kieran shivered with his hands rubbing along his sides. 

“Hey man, that's Boss’s baby growing inside of her, just be happy she hasn’t had a craving for the blood of his enemies as of yet” Luke retorted.

“That’s true…Oh! But if she does that means less work and more days off for us!” 

Both twins high fiving each other.

The second month your body was slowly taking on a new form with new weight along your thighs, hips and of course your belly. Constantly becoming annoyed at how the expansion of your stomach protested against every item in your wardrobe aside from sweatpants. Your breasts were soon following suit as you began to notice a bit more pinching on your sides when putting on your bra. 

The third month however leads you down a far more complex path to navigate, not as simple as avoiding aromas or obtaining more maternal sized clothing. Oh no it was a consistent wave of horniness taking every aspect of you hostage. In reading further online you came across some articles discussing how pregnancy often sparked changes in levels of libido for women. Hormone level changes could cause either a sharp increase or decrease but there was no information available on how to regulate it. You weren’t the type to accept no as an answer though. Back at the hunter association you inquired by the water cooler with Tara. 

“I heard from Meredith when she was pregnant it was non-stop, she said the hormones had her on top of her husband like he was a pogostick for weeks.” Whispering the details to your ear as to not reveal your colleagues details to those passing by. 

“Are you serious?! Oh man this is so damn annoying, is there really nothing to calm this down. I feel like it's just one thing after the other. After patrolling my feet ache; I take 4 snack breaks just to avoid feeling like I'm going to faint from hunger. Now my body wants to go at it like a damn rodeo show, who decides this shit!” you say while blowing hot air and squeezing your water bottle in hopes of releasing some frustration.

“The whole thing is a journey, I get it, but hey chin up! It’s not forever and in a few months you’ll be back to normal”. In the meantime maybe…ya know lean on your husband a bit more if you know what I mean.” Tara trailed off in her words so you could catch her drift. 

Your eyebrows contorted toward each other. “I-I’m not incapable of it, obviously as you can see” waving your hand over your stomach. “It’s feeling more like a burden that I can’t stand the idea of. He is already doing so much to keep up with me and the baby. Body aches/nausea/morning sickness, food cravings, new wardrobe, doctors appointment, all on his already busy schedule. To suddenly jump on him when he has a moment of rest because I can’t keep it in my pants, feels greedy.” You sighed lazily leaning against the wall in a sense of defeat. 

“Well to be honest, him not keeping it in his pants is ssoortttaa of how you both got here in the first place.”

You blew raspberries and giggled at her response “Good point there” *

“Listen the way you talk about Sy, I can tell you want more alone time to care for your new ‘urges’. It wouldn’t be difficult to add to his to-do list. Just communicate with him what’s going on and quit beating yourself up about it” 

You released a deep sigh and dropped your arms to your sides. “Tis very sound advice, thanks Tara.”

The convo you had with Tara stuck with you and her outlook made sense when you reflect the past few months. 

Sylus the man that he is, was always of no complaint to you in your transition through pregnancy thus far. When the morning sickness came he was at your side holding your hair back with one hand and fresh tea prepared in the other. At times when you had sudden craving for the most odd of food combinations he had three more chefs hired to be ready for your request at all times of the day.

Accompanying you to purchase a new wardrobe to compliment your new curves was of a delight to his spirit. He spoiled you with high end attire and quality fabric that in any other circumstance you would protest was far too expensive and unnecessary. This new sex drive on the other hand meant more than what his black card was capable of correcting, it meant him and all of him.

The thoughts sweeping your mind were embarrassing to your consciousness. The sight of the simplest of actions had you driving up a wall.

One evening he had returned with a haul of baby items and decor for the new nursery. He easily could have gotten Luke, Kieran or any of the other employees at the estate to manage organizing the space but he insisted on doing it himself. 

While on a snack run you noticed him lifting and pushing around heavy furniture across the room. A bit of sweat building above his collarbone down to his chest. Not in his usual classy work attire but a work out tank and joggers. You stopped in your tracks at the door watching him cutting boxes open with a knife and his bicep flexing in the motions. You began to fall into a daze as you imagined the bicep around your throat and his massive form towering over you from behind. The day dreaming got the best of you and you forgot the bag of chips you were holding as a few fell crumbling on the ground. Sylus turns around hearing the crinkle of your potato chips to face you.

“Snacking again I see, it might be worth me investing in surgically giving you hamster cheeks so you can store your late night snacks more efficiently and conveniently.” He joked while separating the crib pieces according to the instructions. 

His words broke your fantasy and red began to flood your cheeks and ears as you subconsciously hoped he hadn’t realized the intentions behind your stare. 

“What’s the matter, baby’s got your tongue?” He smirked, leaning back on his forearms giving him  a more interesting view of you from below. 

“If you're not going to rest, you can spend some time here with me to look at wallpaper decals. I was thinking either crow or dove feathers” He gestured for you to come closer to inquire about the sample prints he had for the wall art. 

You felt your body heating up and ultimately your lower half followed suit. You didn’t want to risk where your thoughts began to wander.  Not wanting to risk where your thoughts begin to wander, you stay rooted in the spot, not daring to get any closer. 

“Uummm my butt is aching, I feel like laying in bed, text the vendor I’ll take a look at it later.” Racing away you hurried back to your bedroom to avoid him or risk revealing your secret symptom. 

Watching you rush pass the door and further down the hall, Sylus’ mouth curved into a slight frown as his eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

Cupping one side of his mouth to channel his voice “Don’t fall asleep with the potato chips in your hair again darling!” 

(A few days after your conversation with Tara.)

Sylus just arrived back from his Onychinus obligations ready to settle into a warm bath with you. He looked forward to  you snuggling above him in his tight embrace surrounded by playful bubbles and candles. When he reached near the bathroom entry way he heard nothing, not the sound of water filling the bath or your soft spoken comments about how much bubble bath is too much bubble bath. Disappointment began to settle into his mind as he began to search for his expected company. It had become a bit of a ritual between the two of you. It was a moment for him to unwind from the demanding lifestyle of his work in N109 zone. Even more so it was a time where he could both figuratively and literally soak you in, inhaling your scent and  caressing your soft plush skin. He would listen to your cute quipped stories from your day away from him, transitioning from topic to topic, he’d lose himself in you no matter how ordinary the tale. As of recently your pregnancy disturbed this special time for you both for various reasons. Early doctors appointments, random morning sickness that left you in need of care, an emotional tantrum about your weight followed by water works. Today he knew none of the above could be the case, as Mephisto had been adjusted to be more sensitive when monitoring you in his absence. No such notifications appeared to him prior to his arrival. He soon finds you on the couch in front of the fireplace sorting through paperwork from the association's human resource department. Sylus strolling into the room from behind the couch leaning forward reaches over to grab one of the papers from your hand. 

You gasp from the swift movements and his sudden appearance behind you. 

“Hey! You just get home and start stealing my things, rude much”  Turning your head toward him with a glare for claiming your document. 

“I’d say it was a cheap fee for not finding my adoring partner surrounded by her favorite vanilla scented bubbles upon my arrival.” He teased holding the paper above your head. 

A bit of guilt began to pour into you, you hadn’t forgotten about it, you were avoiding facing your Sylus fever until you built up the courage to talk to him properly about it. You had been running so many scenarios in your mind on how to go about approaching the topic without sounding pathetic. Still you didn’t want to make him feel rejected considering you both had been missing out on this intimate time more frequently than anticipated in the past few weeks. Regardless you had to keep your guard up until you discerned a path you were comfortable with. 

“Oh you know I got so distracted with reviewing some reports I lost track of time, silly me. Not to mention my feet are so achy today from messing around with Mephisto yesterday I thought I would take a breather here first and wait for you to get back.” You gave a slight smile attempting to play off your lie the best you could. Sylus was typically not one to fall for your fibs and had a hunch you were keeping away from the truth for another reason. He’d play along momentarily while he uncovered what he really wanted to know. 

“Such a dedicated woman to her craft, I should have you coaching more of my henchmen in your ways. Care if I take a seat here to rub away these pestering aches while I review–” He paused to take a moment to glance at the paper and quickly scanned the content. It was a notice from the association alleviating you from engaging in patrols until after delivering your baby and completing your maternal leave for recovery. While scanning the document  he took a seat on the couch and grasped your feet into his palms, slowly engaging the knots in your muscles with care.

“Seems like the association is taking proper measures as you enter the second trimester, good. Saves me time from having to negotiate with your superiors.” 

Since the start of your pregnancy Sylus had been insisting on you working remotely. You protested suggesting you were still capable of combat for at least two months into your first trimester. While not easy with your various symptoms you felt obligated to your duty as a hunter. *Out of respect for you he agreed but on his own “Sylus like terms” which basically consisted of  Luke and Kieran following you each day to ensure your safety. You understood and respected the association's policy, deep down you knew the protection of your womb was of the utmost priority at the moment. However, going in person to the office just to file paperwork at least meant some sort of down time from your mind constantly racing about how to undo Sylus’ clothes with your teeth. Working at home meant not only encountering him at all times of the day but being at your peak of sexual frustration. Smelling his scent, staring at the clock wondering when he would be back home, glancing at your esteemed bed envisioning how many positions you could manage in your new size. You were spiraling. 

“I know you have been wanting me to start working from home but still it feels odd.” Your words felt stubborn to agree with you as he worked your feet and you pictured having his massage service every morning. 

“What’s the issue here again, kitten?” He applied a bit more pressure to your heel and locked eyes with you. 

“I just feel like I’ll be bored working from home ya know” You were clenching your swollen stomach avoiding eye contact with your husband in hopes his crimson eyes wouldn’t capture the true intentions behind your disapproval. 

“Boredom, really, when here you have access to the horse stable, personal theater, shooting range and a botanical garden? You fear lack of entertainment?” Sylus snarked back sarcastically while circling the pressure between the soles of your feet and your ankles. 

“Well it's not like everything is here, like my favorite coffee shop…and the bakery! They are right next to the office, I’d miss them during the day” you were scrambling for any avenue you could to redirect the conversation in your favor. 

“Hhmmm oh you don’t say, as for coffee, it is restricted from your usual consumption currently until after our child’s arrival, last I checked. As for this esteemed bakery, I’m aware of your sweet tooth and attraction to decorative goods. Hence the recent new hire from overseas that is award winning and nationally recognized for her pastries on call at the estate. I’m sure her work excels far above, oh what was it called, donny’s dough(nuts)” Sylus retorts in confidence. 

Your brow flinched with nervousness by his usual directness and clear points. You recoil your feet from his grasp and tuck them beneath yourself.  

“Hey don’t discredit donny’s ‘ the donut holes 10 for 3 deal’ those got me through a lot of late night reports with Tara at the office I’ll have you know” Puffing your cheeks and arms crossed hoping to amplify your defense.

Annoyance begins to creep unto Sylus expression. “ something is not adding up here, while I am fully aware of the new physical and emotional changes sweetie, I can’t help to notice your reluctance around me as of recent” 

-Crap, he’s on to me- You shout to yourself mentally.

He slides over closing the distance between you both on the couch, reaching over he places his calloused hands on your thigh. You recoil a bit hoping he doesn’t notice the attention your eyes have on his body and attempting to conceal your thoughts from his intense gaze. 

“See that right there, it’s as if my presence discomforts you these days, actually scurrying away from me like a frightened kitten. You have even gone out of your way to prevent me from seeing you for our typical morning baths. I have to say love, if I were not the handsome man that I am, I’d think you’ve become disgusted of me” 

“What?! Of course not, the complete opposite!” You gasp a sharp breath at the realization of your words. 

“Oh the opposite you say” He reaches over, placing his large hands around your shoulder and other wrapping around under your knees pulling you into his lap. 

“Enlighten me then darling, to what crime did I commit to owe scarcity in your recent lack of affection” Snuggling his face into the dips of your neck with a heavy inhale of your scent. 

“I do all in my power to comfort you during this journey honey and without a need for recognition but here my loving wife leaves her devoted husband, for donut holes, surely I’m more valuable to you than that” 

His words trace over you like a knife ready to pierce you at your vitals. The dam withholding your hormonal waves has now cracked at his swift vulnerability. You are one sudden move away from cracking under the pressure. 

He begins to rub your thighs in a circular motion running up and down between them and your round belly. Lowering his face to your stomach he whispers “you hear that kids, your dear papa may have lost your mother to donny the baker, how cruel your mother can be” Sylus pouts in a mocking tone, followed by a pepper of kisses on your stomach nearing dangerously close to your chest. 

“Dramatics are un-befitting of you” you scoff.

“Oh sweetie, trust me I can take it to ten if need be. Would you like to test it out or care to share with the rest of the family what’s really going on here” His tone low and rough, he craved an end to your avoidance.

You froze, his crimson eyes piercing into you like he could read your thoughts. You could feel the red rushing to your cheeks and ears. Your eyes dart between his hands and lips in turmoil between your body's wants and ego's pride. 

“Talk” His voice stern, the dam has failed. 

“I..didn’t know how to voice it but…as of recently I’ve been facing some new pregnancy symptoms” you whispered delicately beneath your breath, avoiding eye contact and pressing your index fingers against one another like a child confessing in a principal office. 

“Go on, what are these symptoms, is it emotional or physical discomfort? I'm all ears, I’m here for you.” Sylus stares intensely in anticipation of your words. 

“Well…I-I’d say a mix..I have been feeling more determined lately” 

Sylus eyebrows raised, unclear by where your confession is trailing towards.

“Darling I can speak several languages as you know but pussyfooting is not a dialect I have explored, so do us both a favor and be straightforward will you” 

“I want to have sex with you” You responded sharply. There you unraveled before him, nothing to hold back and with that your efforts tossed to the flames. 

Pure confusion flooded Sylus’ face. “Sex, you mean the same art form that I, your husband,  engaged with you to -placing both hands on your belly- make them, that sex yes. Surely, Linkon educational system covered basic reproductive health.” 

“I know how I got pregnant, dummy! What I mean is, I can’t stop thinking about having sex with you. One moment I am folding your clothes and the next I’m inhaling your scent through your underwear ready to ride myself out on the corners of our bed. Even you massaging my feet here I’ve been on edge holding myself back to not pounce on you like an animal. I feel so embarrassed by how often it keeps happening. I’ve been using work at the association to keep from being at home and facing my frustrations….I just feel like such a horny teenager” Just like that your previous efforts to script your confession had dissolved like paper in water. You bury your face in your hands muzzling your last few words fighting back an urge to tear up amidst your confession. 

Sylus pauses and gives a brief exhale before speaking. He wraps his arm tighter around you, he removes your hand from hiding, raising your chin to meet his eyes directly. 

“Sweetie, since you tested positive on your pregnancy test I could not have been more overjoyed. Despite the challenges we both anticipated ahead I took time to take each with care with you in mind. That includes holding myself back as well.” 

You let out a small gasp and dwell on his words. “What do you mean by, holding back” 

Sylus sighs, staring at the ceiling and back down while pinching between the bridge of his nose. 

“At some point in your first trimester you began to…glow in a way I can’t quite put into words. You have and will always be a beauty in my eyes but as your belly began to swell, the way you talk, the way you lay in bed at night, put on dresses with more thought out movements. I found myself capturing each moment and desire building up to take you to bed and ravish you. Your cravings for more hardy foods and bizarre snacks is noticeable filling in various areas in your form, each one taunting me.” He gripped your sides to emphasize himself.

“Why taunting, why haven’t you made a move?” You exclaimed back quickly, eager to decode his words. 

“Similar to you I don’t want to be perceived as a selfish inconsiderate male. To expect sex from you in this new state and at a higher frequency than usual made me feel…greedy. The last thing I would want is your perception of me as a monster hungry only for your body.”

Your chest rises in a quick breath at the realization at what you both were hiding from each other. The pure irony that you both shared a similar guilt of harboring the sin of greed to one another. Now all of a sudden your coy plans to avoid your lover seem pathetically irrational. Had you voiced yourself more freely, this entire misunderstanding could have been avoided. 

You cuff Sylus face in your hands and pull him in for a passionate, long yearned for, kiss. A muzzled grunt from him leaks into your throat as you deepen the connection with your tongue and pull him in closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. His large hands straddle your waist driven to join you closer to him while being mindful of the noticeable bump between you both.

Your faces twist and turn, searching to take in as much of each other as possible, grunts and moans filling the atmosphere with each intentional movement. The tension in your lower sexes elevates to dangerous levels making your desires palpable. You both break free for a moment  for air, leaning your foreheads against each other for balance and exhaling rhythmically in sync with each other.

“Your playing a dangerous game here kitten, as I am right now with you, I don’t know how well I can hold back, it’s been 94 days, 3 hours and 12 minutes counting since I’ve last had you, I might go mad” 

You lay your hand on his chest and lean your lips near his ear. 

“I’m ready to clock in Boss, please take good care of me” 

Sylus’ crimson eyes dilate and his body swiftly picks you up bridal style with no hesitation taking large strides to your bed covered in black silk sheets. Like holding a delicate jewel he places you in the center and hovers over you with your hands cupping his cheeks. 

He bends over just a hair thickness away from your lips 

“I hope you saved your strength, we are likely to be working overtime tonight” He spoke with a growl coated in his throat from his desire and painted with a devilish grin ready to sink his teeth into you. 

You caress his cheeks and flash him an endearing smile “Lucky for you I’m such a well rounded and dedicated hunter, a master of her craft.” You lick his lips playfully to toy with him and set him a blaze. You were ready to have all of your built up passions flood the space around. It had been a considerable time for your track records since you last laid together. Those numbers meant nothing to you at this moment though. The time wasted circling each other in this tense dance was no longer of your concern. What mattered was just you and him diving into one another after denying each other for such an extended period. The thought did interrupt your impulse suddenly as you realized the new challenge of love making with the extra weight on you. Could you manage the same performance you were quite well versed in prior to now. A fear of not seeming as sexy creeped into the back of your throat as your eyes soon become glossy with incoming tears. Sylus immediately catches wind in the sudden shift of your expression. 

“Sweetie, what has suddenly gotten a hold of you. It's ok don’t cry, I’m here, talk to me baby.” He sweeps his thumb across your eyes to momentarily hold back the tears threatening to escape. 

“I-*sniff* what if I don’t feel as good to you, what if you don’t enjoy me as much because of the change” Your voice cracking a bit trying to keep from breaking out into a cry beneath him. 

Sylus lifts you onto his lap with your legs straddled around his hips, he places a soft kiss on your cheek and wipes away any loose tears. Locking eyes with you in a deep tone Sylus whispers over your lips “Addiction isn’t nearly close enough to describing how I yearn for you. Each moment I get to hold you in my arms I fall under a trance and I am a captive vulnerable to your will. Never has it ever crossed my mind that your beauty has been tarnished in any way as you are now than from the day my soul found yours. The sinner that I am can only hope to never desanctify the sacred temple of my goddess. Despite my unholy nature you took in my seed willingly and all of the strife that comes to bearing our proof of existence. I’m unworthy but nonetheless greedy to be your exclusive and devoted worshipper. Darling, believe me when I say my vows remain true, there is no love purer than mine.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you clench onto his words wishing you could etch them into your mind forever so as to never doubt him again. All of the insecurity you felt prior melts away and a sense of longing overtakes you once more as you crash your lips into his. Your tongues dance and lips lock both competing for the upper hand over the other. Roughly inhaling and exhaling through his nose, Sylus tries to keep up with your demand as his body’s need for air becomes a balancing act on the scales of your passion.

Sylus’ hands run over your back and soon find their way to gripping your ass and pressing your lower half to grind on his hardening member. The sensation of feeling his hardness deepens your arousal and you hunger for more. Moans escape from your mouth as you capture his cheeks in your hands. You bite on his lower lip sucking on it while pulling away to draw in his thirst for you, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. In a series of huffs you speak lustfully “Don’t you dare hold back on me.” Before there is even a second to pass at the end of your plea Sylus pushes you down onto the bed with force from a deep throated kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in desperation and deepen the connection. His hands find the collar of your silk nightgown and in a swift move he tears it right down the middle completely in half to expose all of you to him. You gasp in his throat and pull away for a moment to witness the small display of his strength exclaiming 

“Sylus! Tha-” 

Cutting you off mid sentence speaking gruffly he responds “I promise to buy you a hundred more replacements.” 

Wasting no time he pushes your breast up and lowers his tongue to your nipple. He makes playful circles lubricating the peaks before intaking the entire plush mounds into his mouth to suck on. His other hand twists and tugs on the other triggering a loud moan from you. He alternates between your breasts making sure to provide each with equal attention. The wetness in between your legs spreads seeping through the fabrics of your panties. 

“Oh–fuck, Sylus I—”

In the middle of your cry he sticks his index finger and middle finger into your mouth while still sucking on your nipples with rough slow flicks of his tongue. Your instincts can’t help themselves at this point and you begin to suck on his fingers curling your tongue along their length. 

He pulls them out and traces them from your mouth down your neck all the way to your panties where he tucks his hand beneath the delicate fabric. He presses the two fingers on the folds of your entrance and rubs against it in circles. 

“I see my beloved is eager for more” 

“Sylus please I–I need yo–” 

“Shhh my queen, you need not say more” 

He kisses between your breast, underneath each, down your stomach slowly until he reaches your gates. 

“Allow me to recite a prayer” 

He places a kiss on your wet lips, from the base, he presses his tongue down with a deep long drawn out lick. He finds your clit immediately once he reaches the top, flicking it repeatedly. 

You moan out loudly, one hand gripping the bed sheets and the other at his hair as you feel yourself nearing the cliff of an orgasm. The motions he takes on the clit is relentless, just when you thought he couldn’t be any more intense, he draws an S on your clit with his tongue. Your hips buck up in response but he forces you down in place on the bed with hands on your hips. Languidly he forms a Y, followed by an L, then a U, he spells his name out on your most sensitive area as your thighs tremble in response. 

“Oh—oh my fucking go—”

“Sshhh that's my line, sweetheart” . Ceasing his calligraphy for a brief moment, he wraps both his thumbs at the side of your panties. He tugs them down your legs to provide himself full access to his meal. No longer hindered by any remaining clothing on you, a second wave of vigor ignites in him. Quickly returning to your clit he begins to suck on the tiny bean, chasing this new high he brings his index and middle finger to your entrance and pushes in slowly. Once inside you fully, he glides his fingers around your slick walls before pushing in and out rhythmically. The sounds of your now penetrated cunt fill the room along with a low grumble emitting from Sylus' chest, relaying his delight in your taste. You can’t hold on much longer at the onslaught he is conducting. The pleasure flows through you like a river from the stiff tongue protruding from your mouth to the tip of your curved toes digging into the mattress surface.  You are so close, your thighs press on the sides of Sylus head in a begging call for climax. Sylus, familiar with your distress signal, slurps violently on your clit and raises the stakes of his penetration, slipping in a third finger. At first maintaining his initial speed now with the third digit he soon increases the pace to chase your orgasm. A ripple of heat envelopes you, your voice releases Sylus’ name in a high pitched outcry. Cum spills down Sylus’ knuckles and halts his penetration as your back arches upward. Your body collapses back down in sweet surrender to the moment you had been burning for, for months. Giving one last kiss to your clit he gradually exits your now exceptionally wet cunt. 

“Kitten, listening to you purr like that after so long and seeing what a mess you’ve made. I’m sure this will take more than just one night to properly satisfy us both” Sylus shoots you a smug expression while licking the corner of his mouth where a stray drip of your cum lingered. Still seeing stars from your orgasm you weren’t sure at first whether to protest or encourage his next move. 

“Didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to properly honor my temple.” Raising your foot to meet his hard bulge practically piercing through his dress pants, you playfully massage the tip and shaft. Your touch causes Sylus to groan. As his high relaxes from chasing your climax, his attention now directs to his rock solid cock, commanding to take control. You place your hand on his cheek to redirect his crimson gaze back to you.

“I believe an offering shall suffice.” 

Sylus’ eyes dilate at your words, oh how you drove him mad. Everything about you was like a perfect symphony designed and destined just for his ears alone to indulge. He lets out a low rumbling chuckle at your decree. Raising himself above you he tears open his dress shirt  stained with your essence. Pulling his dress pants off his 8-inch cock flops out in display, slapping itself against his muscular abdomen. 

“Sweetheart, I just can’t hold back anymore, oh please won’t you accept my humble offering” 

He grabs your ankles dragging you a few inches toward himself, he spreads your legs wide open. He takes a moment to admire the image before memorizing your dazzling features to keep securely seared into his mind for safe keeping. A drop of his precum from his tip falls on your stomach, teasing at the load he is bearing. His eyes are hungry like a predator just before making its final moves on its prey. Caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers over your drunk like expression, he breathes out heavily in anticipation. 

“If for any reason you feel uncomfortable, you need to change positions or if I’m being too rough don’t you hesitate to tell me, ok darling. This moment is for us. I won’t allow you to not savor not even a second of it” 

Even at the cusp of his breaking point he upholds your well-being as his highest priority. The man that Sylus is, how could you have ever had reservations of his intent. 

You nod your head in response to his declaration to confirm your needs. Caressing the side of your thighs with one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to the front of your entrance. He presses the tip in, immediately it becomes soaked from the wetness you have trailing from your recent orgasm. Sylus breathes out a rugged groan and grits his teeth at the sweet familiar sensation that sends electric waves rushing through his veins.

“Do you want it, kitten?” He asks with his voice heavy with lust. Like a reflex to his question you wrap your legs around his hips with an unspoken assertion of your desire. The anticipation of him about to ravish you triggers waves of wetness drowning his tip.

As if profoundly making a binding vow he grasps your hands, intertwining his large rough fingers with yours. Without any further needs for affirmations he drives himself into your fortress. Hissing a curse under his breath at the long awaited reunion with your walls, it fit him perfectly like the heavens modeled your sex’s with precision for one another. Ecstasy washes over him like a thick midst that surrounds a waterfall. Lost in his raw arousal he grounds himself tightening your small hands in his, he plunges into you pulsating his strokes in your core like a war drum. Every collision he executes is explosive drawing you nearer to a second apex. 

“Sylus fu-fuck oh oh god please please har-harder I want it harder, fuck me harder daddy” 

The whine for stronger force intoxicates him and Sylus soaks in the moment of you unraveling before him like a flower in bloom. Your bidding further fueled his ambition to serve both of your insatiable hungers. Sylus releases a hand from yours to take hold of the luxury velvet headboard. Manipulating the headboard allows him to better choreograph his pounding on you. Clinching with flexing muscles, veins all along his arm project intensely. Soon the display of his might is so overt sounds of small cracks in the thick mahogany wood penetrate into the atmosphere. You both are so close. 

“Ah-da-darling fu–you’re so marvelous, my gorgeous wife, matriarch over my soul, please say my name” His strength and momentum of his thrust hit their peak, sweat accumulating all over his chest, a testimony to his labor. Your free hand latches onto his shoulder followed by your nails piercing into the meat of his toned flesh. 

“Mmmmmm yes  Sy-Sylus, Sylus! oh god yes fucking yes yes yes yes don’t fucking stop right there, right fucking there SYLUS!” Exclaiming his name in a loud winded cry you buck your hips upward and in a moment of synchrony collide with his thrust. 

Harmoniously, you baptize yourselves in each other's essence, his seed erupting in your womb like a geyser and the silk of your core outpouring down his shaft. Your thighs tremble violently at the blissful release and Sylus groans your name nearly breathless into your ear. His hand slipping from his previous intense grip on the headboard is lost and his forearms catch him so as to not collapse on your small figure. The expression of your face flushed with red painting your cheeks is dazzling, a display of your fulfillment reached. Your chest rising and falling in union with your racing heartbeat, almost all strength from your body escaped when you climaxed. 

Sylus’ hand finds your cheeks and thumb swipes over your plush lips. Lowering his head he lays his lips on yours softly at first but quickly deepens in it with his tongue to satisfy any last remaining drop of lust.

“Unfortunately I’ll need to pull out of your walls now sweetheart. I’d love to partake in that bath now though, if you’ll indulge me.” He smiles at you sweetly and kisses your forehead. He pulls out of you and the collection of your cum slides out and onto the bed sheets. The departure of his member from your insides leaves you feeling empty but eager to refresh yourself. 

“I gladly accept this additional offering of yours my love.” you respond, laying a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Sylus rises up above you and off the bed, he picks you up bridal style carrying you to the large bath. You both rinse off in the standing shower. Sylus fills the bath 

with all of the works creating a concoction of your favorite bubble baths and bath bombs. As the piece de resistance he lights a candle and turns off the ceiling lights allowing the candle to magnify its presence. He dips you inside the bath and follows after, placing you in between his legs he wraps around you and rubs your belly in gentle circles. 

“How are we feeling now dove” 

“Mmmmm incredible, it’s like all of a sudden the tension in my body has disappeared.” You hum in delight from your new found relaxation and comfort. 

“Marvelous, I’m glad and pleased to be able to serve your needs so well. Perhaps now we can be in more alignment in our honesty for intimacy moving forward, yes” Lowering his head toward your ear he nibbles just above your earlobe. 

“Hehe that tickles and yes honey, you can count on that. Although granted you don’t mind me as a pillow princess for the next coming months.”

“I’d have it no other way, I’m sure the baby would appreciate it as well” He spoke in a tender tone near your ear while gathering a ball of bubbles along your thigh and stomach. 

Soaking in the bath felt like a long awaited curtain call to finally laying down your guards at one another. During the bath you make playful cat ears on Sylus head with the bubbles while exchanging on topics about the baby and plans to further prepare for them. 

After changing the sheets Sylus big spoons you from behind, inhaling your fresh scent from the top of your hair. 

“You know I would never harm you, either of you, right?” he murmurs. 

“Hhmmm you know good and well how such a thing was not once a fear of mine.” You respond back promptly without hesitation. Turning over on your side to face him you press your forehead against his, tangle your legs in between his and place your hand on his chest. 

“I think a good take away from this morning's exchange is that holding back because of fear won’t serve either of us. I know there are times you battle with the concept of our child viewing you as frightening. I’ve held you on several occasions when nightmares from the past strike your core. Each time they did I was here to fulfill my role too as your goddess, to purify you, banish that which attempts to corrupt your heart and soul from loving freely.” Grabbing his hand and placing it on your stomach “This child serves a purpose too, proving that your devotion is true, proving that your love truly is the purest. I’d choose no other than you to grace my womb with motherhood. You are no monster, you're mine, you are our Sylus” 

His gaze softens from your words of reassurance, his crimson eyes touched with a hint of mist. Placing a kiss on your lips he slides his body down to rest his head on your belly and hands relaxed on your hips.

“I truly do adore you”

..............................................................................................................................

Epilogue 

Luke and Kieran walk through the halls and pause when through the walls they hear muffled noises. 

“Yes! That makes ten this week, I win again, hell yes!” Luke spits out slapping Kieran’s shoulder out of excitement. 

“Uuuhhhhh how the heck do I keep losing, I’m starting to think it’s him jumping on her like a rabbit now. You sure the terms of these bets are even in the same playing field at this point!”  

“Hey man, like they say, don’t hate the players hate the game, and this player just scored as Boss continues to score with Miss hunter. So pay up” Luke retorts smuggling. 

“I hope she ends up with twins now and he pins you with diaper duty.”

-End-

[twistedpink]

I have like an unusual amount of dad!asks in my inbox rn, and they’re all sauve/responsible types, but what about your goofy guys? The ones that complain about “the ol’ ball n chain” at work only hours before worshipping you with a level of husbandry that can only be taught through backbreaking cuddle deprivation?? IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM SHUT UP (reader is implied afab- talk of “your” kids. Maybe he gets pregnant idk)

Husband!Ace HATES doing dishes with every fiber of his being, but he also likes getting fed.. Decisions, decisions,, Very into the “good cop/bad cop” routine. He’s good cop, obviously, but he sucks up after every tantrum you handle with the same puppy eyes he shares with your runt. It’s especially effective after he cuts out alcohol for fear of your kiddie getting high off of more than just life, and he gets hottttttttttt,,, Totally a neighborhood dilf- You’re guarding him like a particularly sexy discount, and he loves it <3 If you have more than one kid he makes a joke of “running out of options”. Naturally, he names the kid after Riddle for the bit. It backfires so completely that everyone’s calling him some kind of angel, and Riddle 1.0 contributes to the fucking college fund. His life couldn’t be worse if he tried.. At least his spouse’s still hot <3

Husband!Ruggie in two words. Grill. dad. And he looks good doing it! He’s literally living the dream,, Stable job, loving marriage, and just enough kids to keep him busy well enough into retirement- If you’re looking for anything productive being done on the weekend, you won’t find it at the Bucchi house. He’s done his time, but he’s always excited to ignore work emails! The fridge is fully stocked, and at your insistence he’s way too involved in HOA politics. The two of you are also totally couple goals- All your friends can agree the Bucchi’s are the people to call for birthdays. The only issue your kids ever have are overeating and toy theft.. Wonder where they got that from? (DAD BOD RUGGIE DAD BOD RUGGIE UGHHHHH)

Husband!Floyd’s just thankful you didn’t accept his proposal in Highschool,, He can admit he wouldn’t have been a good partner then, and that’s okay, because he makes up for it now. He works remote, always snacking and in range of his shrimpy for bad days- Plenty of cuddling, and so much clinging it’s rare to see either of you alone in public. He immediately attaches to your kids the same way- always sleeping in their rooms and kissing on their baby faces,, despite how hard he worked to get the big family he’s wanted, I imagine you probably had to go through IVF or surrogacy for any success on account of biological differences. This really shows in their childhood before it’s safe to take any transformation potions,, It’s torture to just observe the baby from outside their aquarium, but Floyd’s present enough for two until they’re old enough for a whole new world <3

¡Bonus!

Husband!Epel’s the only teenage dad on the list, and you guys got hitched QUICK after meemaw chewed him out for reckless sex- Even if it got her the perfect in-law. Gets all muscular after college, and keeps you whipped with those hip muscles that make a V. Ends up having more little girls than he knows what to do with. They all play winter sports at their dad’s behest, and he damn near shoots any boyfriends on the property. 7/10

Husband!Idia gets to live the housewife dream- Gaming pc next to your work computer, and a full 30 minutes of blissful silence when your little power naps after hours of Daddy plays! and Freakin’ bots!!,, He had to quit swearing when the baby started mumbling less than pg first words, but they fist bump when kiddie can avoid getting grounded by “the final boss”- So all thing’s considered, your player 3’s not so bad after all. (He’s still mourning the loss of his limited edition “Magic Rumimi- Sakura dreamscape” figurine, but give him a couple years and it’ll blow over.) 8/10

Husband!Lilia’s never been able to get this vulnerable with anyone. EVER. He’s working on it with his own kids, but it’s much harder to communicate with a toddler, especially when half-fae aging is SO sporadic. They’ll both have to watch you age, but your light never dims, and he’s getting all the pictures he can! Your baby/ies grow up in a home so full of love it’s embarrassing, and there’s always memories to look back on fondly of time well spent <3 10/10

@bju3c0re @kyokills @rinship

[y3sterdaysproblem]

they said speak now - m.s.

summary: you and matt had been best friends since the moment you were born, rarely doing anything without him by your side. your families have always expected the two of you to end up together, but when matt gets a girlfriend that hates you and desperately attempts to destroy your relationship, you’re forced to confront the truth about your feelings for him. will your bond survive the test, or will the pressure of love, jealousy, and change push you apart?

wc: 2k

series masterlist

It was awkward. Beyond awkward.

Normally the car rides home were loud and full of life, the space occupied by Chris ranting about this class and that teacher, Nick yelling about whatever pissed him off that day and the occasional comment from you and Matt. Today, though, was different.

Amber was her name. She was tall, fit from cross country and so pretty. Her hair always seemed to fall into place perfectly, even on days when she claimed she had no time to get ready and she looked awful, she was still beautiful. It was no wonder Matt had a crush on her.

She was in Chris’s usual seat behind you, Chris shunned to the very back row of the van, not that he cared much, preoccupied with whatever was on his phone at the moment. The tension felt higher than usual, Matt constantly glancing between you and the girl he could see in his rear view mirror, wondering why every word spoken between you two seemed strained and forced.

Nick caught on, remembering your reaction earlier in the day when you had found out Matt was interested in this girl, seeing how the light faded from your eyes at the thought of losing Matt to another girl. He tried to fill the gaps in conversation with jokes and random comments here and there, but it seemed to do nothing to ease the awkwardness between everybody.

“So, Amber,” you start slowly, turning around in your seat to face her with a small smile. “How did you and Matt meet?” She lifts her head up, pulling her gaze from her lap where she was playing with a tear in her jeans to look at you. “School,” she says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Everyone in the car internally cringes at her response, Matt even visibly curling in on himself at the way she spoke to you, like you were wasting precious time by asking her a question. “Right,” you respond, nodding your head with a tight smile before spinning back in your chair, sparing Matt a glance before staring out the windshield blankly, willing the ground to swallow you whole.

“We just met during lunch one day,” Matt explains after a beat of silence, smiling towards you for a moment. “We had mutual friends that were talking and I just thought she was, um.. pretty.”

You nod your head at his explanation, still staring straight ahead, leaning your elbow on the door and your head in your hand. “Nice, Matt,” you answer, voice monotone and uninterested now.

He sighs softly, knowing something has upset you and it’s going to have to be a conversation for later. Continuing the drive, you and his brothers are confused when he pulls up to their own house, parking along the curb out front. “This is our house,” Chris states obviously, implying Matt had forgotten what he’d said about taking everybody home. “I know. I’m dropping off you and Nick. Our house was the closest.” Matt answers him, meeting his eyes in his mirror.

Your heart drops, realizing you’ll have to be in the car alone with Matt and this girl that clearly already has an issue with you just from existing. “Matt,” you say nervously, turning your head to look at him. “I thought you were dropping her off first. You… you’re not coming over?”

Matt always came over on Mondays, your family used to the routine of preparing an extra meal for the boy that felt like family, sometimes even making enough for all three boys to spend dinner there. “We’re getting ice cream,” Amber chimes from the back seat, not taking her eyes off of her phone as she spoke. Chris and Nick’s eyes meet, silently speaking through their gaze as you continued staring at Matt, noticing the way he refused to meet your eyes. “I’ll be there in time for dinner,” he promises quietly, finally turning his head.

When he saw how you looked, he realized how much deeper this ran. It wasn’t just skipping out on a routine once, it was throwing a wrench in something so habitual, ruining the well oiled machine that was your guys’ relationship. He felt guilty, like he should’ve asked permission before springing this on you the moment it happened.

You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond to him, feeling a sense of betrayal seeping into your veins. “You could come inside with us,” Nick suggests softly, leaning between the two front seats apprehensively. His hand comes forward to rest on your arm, shooting you a soft smile. “Come on, we have ice cream, too. Our mom would love to see you.”

You swallow thickly and shift your gaze to Nick, revealing the thin gloss over your eyes. You nod quickly, forcing a smile on your face as you agree. “Okay,” you choke out, not sparing Matt another glance as you turn to grab your backpack from in front of you and get out of the car, admittedly shutting the door harder than you needed to. As you got closer to their house, you looked behind you to see Amber getting out of the back and into the front seat, your seat, shooting a glare your way, a snobby look that said ‘I have everything you want’.

Chris places a hand on your back to guide you inside, shutting the front door behind the three of you, and that’s when your wall crumbles, fat tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over. “Oh no,” Nick mumbles, grabbing you by your arms and pulling you into his room, leaving Chris behind as he shuts you both in there.

He stands in front of you and watches as your body wracks with tears, your head tilted down towards the floor to hide the redness blooming on your cheeks. “Hey,” Nick says quietly, pulling you into his frame gently. “It’s okay. He’d never fall for a girl like her. He won’t put up with the way she talks to you.”

“Yes he will,” you croak into his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “God, I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. Falling for my best friend like an idiot. I should’ve known he would never look at me like that. Not when there’s girls like her out there, I… What am I supposed to do?”

Nick’s breath catches in his throat at your confession, even though he had an idea, to hear it out loud shattered his own heart, though it wasn’t even half as painful as it was for you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, hands rubbing over your back gently. “Why don’t you text your mom and tell her you’ll be here for dinner?”

You nod shallowly against him, sniffling loudly. Your situation is reminiscent of the time that you realized you had feelings for Matt, though this time your heart was crumbling into a million tiny pieces, scattered on the floor beneath your feet. You swore you could feel it crunching when you shuffled around, turning to dust under your shoes. This emotion felt far worse, the complete opposite of falling in love. It was one you wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Except Amber.

Fuck Amber.

-

You were quiet at the dinner table, head facing down towards your food as your fork played with the pasta on the plate, appetite long gone. Matt was sat next to you in his normal spot, his eyes flicking over to you seemingly every thirty seconds, desperately vying for your attention.

You refused to look at him, knowing it would set off a new wave of emotions. Chris and Nick felt awkward, too, while their parents had no idea there was even a problem present.

Matt knew you weren’t going to eat, and he couldn’t eat with you mad at him, not when the guilt was eating him alive. “Can I talk to you?” He says suddenly, pushing his chair back and standing up. You want to refuse, tell him that there’s nothing to talk about, but when he reaches down to rest a hand on your shoulder, you can’t help the way your body instantly relaxes at his touch.

You stand silently, still not meeting his gaze as you guys walk to his bedroom, leaving his family confused and surprised in the kitchen. Once you’re in his room and the door is shut, you finally bring your eyes up to his, seeing how concerned and upset he looked. “What’s… what’s going on?” He asks softly, voice pleading. “If this is about her I swear she won’t come between us, I told you.”

“Matt, she’s rude,” you blurt out, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. “And she clearly doesn’t like me. Probably has an issue with you being friends with a girl. You date her and she’s going to drive a wedge between us, I guarantee it.” You fully believed your statement, knowing how girls like her were.

“She won’t, I won’t let her,” Matt says, stepping closer to you. “You mean more to me than any girlfriend.” Wrong. If that was true, he’d be with you. A girlfriend has to be more important than a best friend someday.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head slightly. “You don’t get it. Today is the first time you’ve hung out and you didn’t tell me you weren’t coming over until the last minute. I don’t like her.” You admit to him with a sigh. His eyebrows furrow together, a surge of frustration running through him. “Are you jealous?”

You’re caught off guard, your own face scrunching up in confusion at his accusation. “Excuse me?” You snap back, dropping your hands to your hips now. “Jealous of what exactly?”

“Having to share me,” Matt shrugs. “Me not spending every free moment I have with you.” If you weren’t hurt enough by the whole situation, his words were enough to send your emotions into overdrive. “Matt,” you choke out, feeling your tears start to well up in your eyes once more.

He quickly realizes his mistake and steps forward, his expression softening at the sight of you. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, grabbing your face with both of his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just.. frustrated trying to navigate this and I don’t understand what’s wrong. I thought… I thought you guys would get along and I guess I was wrong and I don’t know what to do.”

You curse yourself for the way you melt into him, into his touch and into his stare. Why couldn’t everything just be like this? Him holding you like you were all that mattered. “How could I get along with someone who has…” everything I want, you want to scream, but the words get stuck in your throat, lost forever. “Such an awful attitude,” you settle. “Matt, I want you to be happy, I just know this isn’t going to end well. I can’t lose you.”

Matt’s thumbs are soft as they caress your cheekbones, wiping the few tears that cascaded over your skin. “You’ll never lose me. I promise.” He pauses and sucks in a deep breath, icy blue eyes boring down into yours. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Her attitude? Or is there… anything else you need to talk about?”

You could’ve sworn you heard a slight edge of hopefulness in his voice as he spoke, like he wanted there to be another reason for your outburst. This is your chance, you say to yourself. He’s waiting for you to confess.

You’re not strong enough to do anything except shake your head slightly in his grip, denying any further reasoning. You can feel your chances slipping through your fingertips, but the thought of losing Matt if he doesn’t return your feelings, it’s just not worth it. You could deal with some unrequited love for some time.

You’d get over him eventually.

a/n: how we feeling abt this series so far

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @darksturnz @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrisbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @ariestrxsh @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[gatorbites-imagines]

When normal Reader is working their minimum wage job, I don’t even wanna think about what happens to the poor sap of a villain that decides to destroy it along with the many other buildings in the city, while terrorizing the citizens. If none of the Marks stalked Reader “just in case” at his work, then they’re definitely there for Reader in seconds tops, digging him out of the rubble while the other half of Marks easily capture the poor (and admittedly stupid) villain. Honestly, they did no research on the city that hosts multiple bloodthirsty Invincibles whose only reason for not dominating/destroying the Earth is because they’re completely whipped for a normal dude? They brought whatever happens on themselves TBH.

Regardless if Reader is hurt or not, they’d all love a good while to bond over slowly torturing the villain. They all take turns, some going to assist Reader, take him to a hospital just in case (screw the other hurt, scared citizens screaming for help beneath the rubble - this is their Reader. Get your own harem), get him safe while the others have the villain hostage somewhere. All the Marks make small groups to cycle through, so they can go between checking on Reader and having a nice long ‘talk’ with the villain who’s begging for death ATP.

Reader thinks that maybe he should stop them, but fuck it. Reader has injuries and has to look for a new job now. Besides, this is the most Reader has seen the Marks get along really well and actually work good together. Reader will just take it as an overdo bonding experience for them and not question the inhuman amount of blood they’re stained with when some walk through the door. At least, Reader’s not at home where they’d likely track blood through the house. So long as they give him the juicy details of their villain-turned-prisoner, it’s fine by Reader.

All the Marks are positively buzzing with pride at Reader actually giving what they perceive to be praise/thanks. At the end of the day, if Reader was released to go home, they’re all in their huuuge bed, cuddled up to Reader, happy and purring. If Reader wasn’t released, then they’re all still a happy and purring bunch of boys, sitting and laying around Reader’s hospital bed.

And meanwhile, wherever the Marks have them kept prisoner, the villain is still wailing for death to save them.

(Bonus)

Nurse: “G-Gentleman! Are you all hurt!?”

Invincibles: (Looks at themselves, caked in blood) “Oh, don’t worry! It’s not ours.” 😁

Nurse: 😨

(Sorry, I got REALLY carried away lmao)

I feel like the reader isn't even surprised at this point, he just looks at the marks with such a flat, tired, retail worker look, and sighs loudly. He'd try to tell them to dig other people out but whatever mark is holding him just goes "huh? Babe, I can't hear what you're saying" cuz they're flying.

Rest in peace to the villain who targeted that area of the city, they won't even get a nice and quick death like the vincibles normally give. They're gonna feel pain that can't even be described in words or noises. I imagine the marks get very creative in whatever they're doing

Reader, in hospital bed: hey, honey, where's the others?

Maskless mark: :)

Reader: honey?

Maskless mark, resting a hand on the readers forehead: you should get some sleep babe.

Reader would get annoyed at them for not saving the others, especially his favorite coworker who'd share cigarettes and weed during shift. This means he rolls over in the hospital bed and won't look at them. This doesn't work obviously, and the marks are gonna be whiny and acting all cute asking for forgiveness in their own ways. Some straight up on their knees by the bed, rubbing against the readers hand. And others just apologizing and giving lethal puppy eyes.

Reader ends up giving up, sighing loudly again, and letting them nuzzle up to him or just hover in the corner all intimidating and scaring the nurses. Readers too busy scrolling his phone for a new job...

[bluemotifofsleep]

i’m not the one you want, babe.

roommate!toji fushiguro x reader

content: swearing, not beta read!

PS: please do not be fooled, gojo is one of my favourite characters of all time, i just have to be mean to him for a bit… for the plot…

chapter one: running away is easy, it’s the living that’s hard.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

gojo satoru is a self-righteous, condescending prick with a head so damn big you’re surprised it doesn’t just fucking blow up. you wish it would, sometimes.

and look, you’re not… petty, you just have a strong moral compass. there are certain things you’re willing to put up with, and things that you absolutely will not fucking stand for.

number one on that list of things is the so called “honoured one” pointing his stupid self-righteous finger in your face and telling you that you’re useless.

…well, he didn’t exactly say it like that. he had a much more roundabout, holier-than-thou way of saying things, but you’re good at reading between the lines.

because he’s your older brother, and you’ve been dealing with his bullshit for your whole damn life.

he just has this… way, of shitting on people without them realizing it. to the untrained eye it may look like praise, but when he stretches his face into that stupid smile and squints his blue eyes condescendingly, no amount of sugared words will stop you from seeing it as the big “fuck you” it really is.

truly, it pisses you off to no end. he gets to drag everyone else’s name through the dirt, while keeping his the same pristine white as his hair. he gets the fucking sixteen-tier, overdecorated, extravagant cake that is his cushy life, and he gets to eat it, too.

if the guy wasn’t your family and you hadn’t known him forever, you’d probably pray on his downfall more often. unfortunately you share blood and memories with him, so you only wish for his demise the normal, sibling amount

you’ve had lots of petty fights with him. hell, it was hard not to. as his younger sister you were always viewed as the softer, smaller, less significant gojo. living in his stupidly tall shadow, it was hard not to want to knock him down as many pegs as you could.

this fight, however, definitely took the cake. a full screaming match that ended in tears, with you packing your shit, and running the hell away.

yeah, maybe it was a bit dramatic, but being looked down upon your whole life because you were the little sister of the satoru gojo was fucking exhausting. you just needed space, that’s all. you needed time and room away from the gojo estate so you could breath, to stop feeling so damn trapped in your own lineage.

so, here you are, in a less-than-shabby apartment with a roommate you barely even know the name of.

toji fu…something? fujimoto? fukushima? whatever.

you probably should know more about the person you’re sharing a living space with, but in reality you barely see the back end of the guy heading out the front door. that’s all he does; come and go. in and out, all the time. you still don’t even know what he does for work. just that it’s something that has him leaving for days at a time, coming back looking slightly worse for wear, and then leaving again.

the main thing that drew you to this cheap ass place was… well, exactly that. it was cheap. that, and you could move in right away. the other apartments required a “background check” that left you hanging without somewhere to go, but toji obviously needed someone to pay the other half of the rent quick.

the description of the ad was “low rent, looking for a quiet roommate that pays bills on time” and while it may not have been the most attractive ad to most people, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

now toji fushi-whateverthefuck was honestly a pretty good roommate when compared to horror stories you’ve heard. he was fairly tidy save the occasional towel left on the ground and the messy ashtray on the balcony ledge. he never left any dirty dishes… and actually now that you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the guy cook before. you don’t really understand how he got enough sustenance to be that, well, beefy, for lack of a better word. somehow he fucking managed.

his size and prowess had scared you at first, because you’re not naive enough to think that you could ever take him in a fight. you’ve certainly seen enough true crime to see that it would fit his MO; young girl moves in, big scary man with the intimidating scar on his face likes stabbin’, and he buries her under the floorboards.

the only neighbours you have are the old, deaf woman to your right and the junkyard of a man (who you once saw smoking out of a crack pipe in the stairway) to the left who’s away for months at a time, so no one would hear you scream. then you’d be just another missing persons poster on a telephone pole people pass by without a glance, your image slowly being worn into the wood by the elements and eventually covered by other posters.

a fitting end for a runaway, probably.

while the possibility that he’s a murderer and he just really likes to take his time planning before he strikes is still there, he’s a lot nicer than you expected from his looks. which isn’t saying much, because really the gap between serial killer and the nice, deaf lady next door who bakes you bread sometimes is so large, he could fall anywhere in between.

yeah, nice isn’t really the right word for him. polite, maybe?

honestly, it’s more like a mutual agreement between a gazelle and a leopard by a watering hole; you stay on your side, and i’ll stay on mine.

from the almost predatory look of him, the wide set of his shoulders and the roguishly handsome way his face was put together, you expected something sinister to lurk beneath the surface. heck, men half as good-looking as him usually use their gift for evil, using their pretty privilege as a get-of-jail-free card. they think that because of their looks, they can behave however the fuck they want.

(a certain name comes to mind, something rhyming with dojo...)

so when you first eyed up six-foot-something of beefy muscle and the devilish face-card toji sported, you reasoned that something had to be horrifically wrong with him. as far as you could tell, he was single. and a man his age, with his wide set shoulders and wolfish smirk that could drop a woman’s panties from a mile away, wasn’t just single without something being clinically diagnosable about him.

at first, you were worried he’d be super macho and demand everything was done his way. maybe that your shower products were taking up too much space or your pink throw blanket you kept on the couch was too girly or that your music taste sucked.

and if he wasn’t mean… you were worried he’d fly too far past friendly and be some sort of creep, eyeing you up like a piece of meat and expecting something out of you just from proximity.

but he just…didn’t. he doesn’t do anything.

he gives you polite words if your paths happen to cross each other, wether that be in the kitchen, the balcony (where he smoked, and you enjoyed a cup of tea) or the couch to watch tv where he always offered the remote to you because he claimed he “didn’t give a shit”.

and yeah, most people would probably call that the bare minimum of what’s considered polite, but you found it intriguing.

sure he was gruff, rough around the edges, and when you’d first came to view the apartment he sat on the couch and watched them announce lotto numbers telling you to “knock yourself out” instead of giving you a proper tour, but the whole thing was attractive to you in some way.

your whole life, you were treated as a gojo. the daughter to two of the wealthiest people in the country and the sister of “the honoured one” or “the strongest”, or “the world’s most blue-eyed fuckhead” or whatever the hell the idiot went by these days. but with toji, you were just some girl (that he probably thought was an idiot for living in a banged up apartment with a possible serial killer) but really, that’s fine by you.

as interesting as toji was to you, you couldn’t really get a proper read on him. maybe that’s why you were so interested. he was like a dark pond that you couldn’t see the bottom of; you had no idea what lurked beneath, but his surface was incredibly alluring.

you wanted to dive right in.

~

you… are not a good cook.

growing up at the gojo estate, you never had to be. as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve always had people better trained than you to do it for you. which was all fine and dandy, when you still lived there.

but now…

“fuck!” the exclamation is yelled into the empty house as you burn yourself on the hot pan you were trying to use. key word: trying.

there’s smoke billowing out because the oil was…burning? how does that even happen? isn’t oil there so it doesn’t burn?

you were heating up the pan to try to cook an egg, because all you’ve been eating for the past couple of weeks is instant ramen and various raw vegetables easy for snacking on. you should probably give up on your culinary dreams though, because the pan looks as charred and depressing as you feel.

all you wanted was real food.

it was fine, at first, living off of “garbage food” as your family would call it. it was kind of refreshing to eat things you hadn’t been allowed to growing up, taking back some stolen part of your childhood when you craved junk food.

but now you were sick of it.

all you could think of was the good, home cooked meals you were fed regularly at the estate. sautéed vegetables, raw cuts of fatty tuna, seasoned riced, expensive and perfectly cooked wagyu beef… the thought of it all made your stomach growl as you tossed the soiled pan into the sink to soak, and grabbed some baby carrots from the fridge instead.

you absolutely would not admit you had made the wrong decision in leaving. and truly, you didn’t even think it either.

as depressing as your life had been for the past couple of weeks; spent with all your contacts on silent (because you just know satoru would blow the fuck out of your phone) and eating meals fit for a collage frat boy living off his last dime, you’re pride was more important.

you were proving a point. a point that put your livelihood on the line, your whole way of being. if you crumbled now you would just be giving up in battle of wills between you and your brother, something you were not willing to do for any cost.

you may have lost the genetic lottery by being born second, but you would not lose this.

you’ll stay eating baby carrots for breakfast and sitting on a shitty couch, watching shitty cable television (that your mother once told you would rot your brain out of your nose) to prove your point.

in the midst of a very shittily done action scene playing out on the grainy tv, a door opens from the hallway behind you.

toji must have snuck in last night again while you were sleeping. (you find yourself once again questioning what he does for work to have such a weird ass schedule, but then you think that you probably don’t want to know.)

to your surprise, instead of heading out onto the balcony to smoke like he usually does first thing, he plops down on the couch next to you, the springs squeaking under his weight.

despite sitting on the couch with him being a regular occurrence in your shared apartment, you still tense when he settles into the seat beside you. he takes up the space so easily, manspreading his giant thighs instantly and draping one of his beefy arms across the back of the couch. you try hard not to notice how your side of the couch is tilted towards him, his weight pulling you sideways, dragging you into his orbit.

when he rolls his head to the side to stare you down, you freeze like a deer trying to camouflage into a forest background, hoping to not get caught by the apex predator stalking it. his eyes are like two headlights, digging into your primal instinct to freeze.

“mornin’.” it’s just one word, barely a greeting, but the sleep-induced gravel in his voice drags across your skin anyways, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“good morning.” you’ll play this feeling inside of you off for as long as you have to, until you stop feeling it. you pop another carrot into your mouth to stop from saying anything else.

he leans over you, staring into the bowl that harbours your poor excuse for a breakfast and twists his face up in disgust.

“you’re going to turn orange if you keep eating carrots for every meal. what are you, a damn bunny?”

you snort. “that’s just a myth, you know.”

he smirks, and just like every other time he does, it twists something in your stomach up into a knot.

“nah,” his expression turns serious for a second, as he scrutinizes your rapidly heating face. “in fact, i think it’s happening already.”

“what?!” you scramble out of the sunken-in couch, running to check yourself in the bathroom mirror. when you do, you scowl and yell out a “jerk!” as toji cackles nefariously from the living room.

you’re not orange, in the slightest. in fact, your face is bright red.

toji fushiguro was polite in most ways, but he loved to tease.

deciding you’ve had enough teasing for one day, you head back to your room instead of returning to the couch.

~

that night, the power in the apartment goes out.

a transformer had exploded up the street, causing a large outage across the neighbourhood. the second the loud boom! had hit and the lights flickered and then vanished all together, fear had gripped you tightly.

you’re not… scared of the dark, per say. it’s just being alone, alone with your thoughts, sitting in a dark room that scares you.

your phone was pretty much useless without wifi, so you scrambled for something, anything to do to keep your mind busy, to keep from feeling so terribly alone.

~

you feel… stupid. silly, even, like a child that had a nightmare seeking comfort from a grown up.

you’re standing outside of toji’s door, with your hand raised, but no courage to knock.

it was stupid. you were being stupid. it’s just the dark, you’ll be fine. the power should be on in a couple of hours. you’ll survive, right?

just as you’re about to turn and retreat back to your room, toji’s door opens and you’re suddenly face to face (face to chest?) with him.

“what is it? you’ve been standing outside my door for the past five minutes like a little creep.” the words would sound angry to anyone else, but you’ve spent enough time around him to know that’s just how he speaks.

it’s one of the things that draws you to him, how he never feels the need to sweeten his words. he doesn’t limit himself with things like politeness and niceties, he just says what he needs to say.

right now though, you would appreciate some decorum.

“i um… wanted to know… sorry, it’s stupid. i’ll leave you alone.” but as you turn to leave, he heaves a giant sigh like he’s pained.

“stop whining like a baby and say what you want.”

jesus… so no decorum, then.

“…do you want to play uno with me?”

~

the cards look comically small in his large hands…

you were both in the living room, using the coffee table and some candles to play the riveting, timeless game that is uno. it was one of the few things that you had brought with you from home, distant memories of playing with satoru as a kid and getting in physical fights over it flickering across your mind.

the thoughts made your chest ache, but that’s why you’re here with toji, right? to stop thinking about it so damn much.

“pick up four, and i change the colour to… blue.” toji growls at your words, a scowl painting his features periodically lit up by candle light. he picks up four cards from the deck painfully slow, making a deal out of each one and pouting like a baby.

you hadn’t expected him to be so… competitive.

honestly, you hadn’t expected him to say yes in the first place. maybe a laugh in your face proceeded by his door slamming or even just a simple look of disgust, not the grumbled “okay” that he gave you as he followed you to the living room.

it was… weird, doing something so mundane with him.

toji looked like a creature built to kill. there was something brutal and dangerous about the way he carried himself, the words he spoke and the voice he spoke them in.

it felt like using a loaded handgun as a spoon for your cereal.

you giggle at the thought, but then you’re staring down the barrel of the actual handgun that is toji fushiguro’s glare.

“you ain’t gonna be laughing for long, brat.” and then in a jaw dropping display of utter brutality, he puts down three of his gathered pickup-four cards and two pickup-twos, leaving him with nothing in his hand. how was that even possible?

“you jerk! i only had two cards left.” you whine and toss your cards into the pile on the table.

“yeah, that’s what happens when you mess with me, kid.” he puts his recently emptied hands behind his head, smirking down at you like someone who had just one at poker and took home the largest pot ever, not a meek game of uno.

truthfully, you’re uninterested in wining or losing. his company was so alluring to you, that it was entertainment in itself. like watching a leopard at the zoo, relaxed in his own element. his broad shoulders melting into a bulging bicep stretched over his head, his toned chest peeking through his shirt-

“so,” fuck. you jump like you’ve been caught ogling him, poking the glass of his enclosure when there were clearly signs not to. “i’ve been meaning to ask, what are you running away from, kid?”

what?

you gape at him like a fish trying to breath air, completely dumbfounded by his question. he couldn’t mean-

“you think i’m stupid or somethin’?” he’s leaning over the table now, the leopard tapping back at the glass that separated you. you feel hunted.

“cute little rich girl gets her panties in a twist, stomps her feet, and runs away from home, ive seen it all before. m’just surprised you’ve lasted this long, honestly.”

you feel like a bug that’s been pinned to a cork board for examination, spread out and exposed. your inner turmoil and darkest guilts have been torn out of you to lay bleeding and squirming on the coffee table.

“how the hell did you figure that out?” your words are borderline suspicious, borderline accusing.

if he was some kind of freak, you were going to make a break for the front door. though you’ll have to slip right by his large arm span to do that, so you’ll have to be quick about it-

he laughs like he’s amused by the clear discomfort on your face.

“relax. i just pay attention, is all.” he’s got an easy smirk on his face, and he doesn’t look nefarious in any way, so you relax your shoulders a bit.

“you don’t have a job, and yet all of your shit is fancy. you’re always bringing home groceries that you don’t know how to cook properly, expensive crap with the word organic pasted all over it, so you clearly have expensive taste, and yet you picked one of the shittiest apartments on the market. most definitely so you could move in right away, right?”

wow. you feel sort of bad for underestimating his observation skills. this whole time you felt like you were spectating him, but clearly it was the other way around.

he leans in again, his easy smirk and sea green eyes lit up by the candlelight, making him look almost supernaturally pretty.

“so you’re running, but from what?”

suddenly, all the tension you’ve been carrying spills out of you like water from a squeezed sponge. you let out a sigh that collapses your chest, your whole body sinking with it.

~

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Hyper&Chill | psh

act 12: First time fighting with him

You knew something was wrong the second Sunghoon didn’t text you good morning.

It was a small thing—maybe even trivial—but Sunghoon, for all his nonchalant ways, never forgot. He always sent a quick, lazy “morning” with some dry joke about how he hated waking up.

But today?

Nothing.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was just busy or had overslept. But when you saw him at uni, leaning against his locker, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world—without so much as glancing your way—your stomach dropped.

Your steps slowed, uncertainty creeping up your spine.

Did I do something?

You wracked your brain, trying to recall if you’d said or done anything wrong. Yesterday had been normal—laughing over dinner, his hand casually resting on your thigh under the table, him walking you home like usual.

So what changed?

You mustered the courage to approach him. “Hey, Hoon.”

He barely looked up, just giving you a flat, “Hey.”

That’s when you knew.

Something was wrong.

Your smile faltered. “Are we still hanging out later?”

A pause.

Then, without looking at you, he said, “Can’t. I’m busy.”

It was the way he said it—detached, uninterested, as if you were just some casual acquaintance instead of the person he kissed breathless just two nights ago.

Your chest tightened.

“Hoon,” you said softly, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Another short, clipped answer.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. “Okay, obviously something’s wrong, because you’re acting weird—”

“I said nothing’s wrong, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

He had never used that tone with you before. Cold. Sharp. Distant.

Sunghoon didn’t yell—he didn’t have to. His indifference cut deeper than any raised voice ever could.

For the first time since you started dating, he looked at you like you were just another person in his life.

And it hurt.

“…Fine,” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I won’t force you.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, refusing to let him see the way your fingers trembled.

The next two days were pure torture.

Sunghoon wasn’t just distant—he was silent.

No texts. No calls. No stopping by your usual lunch spot.

You’d see him in passing—walking through the halls, chatting with his friends, laughing at something stupid—but every time your eyes met, he’d look right past you, like you weren’t even there.

Like you didn’t matter.

And it was driving you insane.

By the third day, you’d had enough.

You stormed up to him after class, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

“Okay, seriously—what is going on?”

He turned, finally looking at you, but his expression was unreadable.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your blood boiled. “Hoon, don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m imagining things when you’ve been ignoring me for days.”

His jaw tightened. “Maybe I just needed space.”

Your heart squeezed. “Space? From me?”

He didn’t say anything.

And that silence—that awful, heavy silence—was somehow worse than any argument you could’ve had.

You forced yourself to take a breath. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what I did wrong, but can we please just talk? You shutting me out like this—”

“It’s not just about you, Y/N.”

The words were cold, final.

You froze.

“Not everything has to be a big, dramatic conversation.” His voice was eerily calm, but you saw the tension in his shoulders. “I just needed time to think.”

Your lips parted, but you had no idea what to say to that.

Time to think? About what?

About you? About this relationship?

Your stomach twisted. “Do you—” You hesitated, heart pounding. “Do you still want to be with me?”

For the first time since this started, Sunghoon’s mask cracked.

His brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly, as if your question had completely thrown him off.

“What?” His voice dropped, softer now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I don’t know what I did to make you shut me out like this, but if you’re—if you’re having doubts, if you don’t want this anymore, just tell me.”

Something in his expression shifted.

Then, before you could react, his hand cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“…You really think that?” His voice was quieter now, but there was something raw beneath it. “You think I don’t want you?”

You blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor.

“I don’t—” Your voice cracked. “I don’t know what to think, Sunghoon. You shut me out, you didn’t even tell me why, and I—” You exhaled shakily. “I hate fighting with you.”

A long pause.

Then, finally, Sunghoon sighed, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“…I got jealous.”

Your breath caught.

What?

He looked away, exhaling through his nose. “The other day. When you were laughing with that guy in class—Jaemin, or whatever his name is.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “You didn’t even notice how close he was to you.”

You stared.

That’s what this was about?

Sunghoon let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “It was stupid, I know. But it pissed me off, and instead of just saying something like a normal person, I—” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I handled it like an idiot.”

Your heart ached at the guilt in his voice.

“Hoon,” you whispered. “You could’ve just told me.”

“I know.” His shoulders sagged slightly. “I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want you.” His gaze softened. “That’s the last thing I want.”

Silence settled between you.

Then, before he could react, you punched him in the arm.

“Ow—what the hell?!”

“That’s for ignoring me for three days, dumbass!”

Sunghoon let out a pained laugh, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, okay. I probably deserved that.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Damn right, you did.”

Another pause.

Then, a little more hesitantly—

“…Are we good?”

You sighed, your frustration slowly melting into something softer. “You’re still on thin ice, Park.”

His lips quirked up. “Fair enough.”

“…But yeah. We’re good.”

Sunghoon let out a relieved breath, then—without warning—wrapped you in his arms.

You stiffened for half a second before melting into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your hair.

Your lips twitched. “Maybe don’t ignore me for three days next time, and you won’t have to miss me.”

He groaned. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

You smirked. “Do you, though?”

“…I’ll make it up to you.”

You pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “How?”

Sunghoon smirked, leaning in.

“I have a few ideas.”

Four months in, and this was your first real, full-blown fight.

Not the petty bickering or stubborn silent treatments like before.

This was loud, heated, and ugly.

You didn’t even remember how it started. Something small—probably insignificant in hindsight—but it had spiraled so fast neither of you could stop it.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N!” Sunghoon’s voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it, his jaw clenched as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly. “Oh, I’m ridiculous? Maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

He let out a sharp exhale, eyes flashing with irritation. “I do listen to you, but sometimes you just blow things way out of proportion!”

You felt something snap inside you. “Oh, so now I’m just overreacting? You know what, Sunghoon? If you actually cared, you wouldn’t brush me off like I’m some dramatic idiot!”

His expression darkened. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Your voice was quieter now, but cutting. “It’s obvious you think I’m just some annoying girlfriend who makes a big deal out of nothing.”

Sunghoon’s fingers curled into fists. “Do you even hear yourself right now? I put up with your mood swings, your dramatics, your constant need for attention—”

Your chest ached.

Put up with?

You felt your throat tighten, but your pride refused to let you back down. “Well, if I’m such a burden to you, maybe you should just break up with me.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flashed, his breath hitching slightly.

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

But his face hardened.

His next words came out like a cold slap.

“Maybe I should.”

Silence.

It rang louder than your shouts ever could.

Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.

Sunghoon stared at you, his own chest rising and falling sharply, as if he hadn’t meant to say it either.

For the first time since this started, you saw hurt flicker in his expression.

But instead of fixing it, instead of taking it back—

He walked away.

And you let him.

The fight left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sunghoon didn’t text. Didn’t call.

And for the first time since you started dating, he didn’t come looking for you.

You told yourself you didn’t care.

But the way your eyes kept darting to your phone? The way your chest tightened every time you passed his usual spots on campus?

You cared.

The worst part was the what-ifs.

What if he really meant it? What if he really thought you were too much? What if this was the fight that actually ended things?

Three days passed in radio silence.

By the fourth day, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You found him in the library, headphones on, eyes glued to his laptop.

The sight made your stomach twist—he looked perfectly fine. Like your fight hadn’t even happened.

Like he didn’t miss you at all.

The thought stung.

You didn’t even bother lowering your voice. “Are we just not talking now?”

Sunghoon blinked up at you, slowly pulling out his headphones.

“…What?”

You crossed your arms. “You heard me. Are we seriously just going to ignore each other forever?”

His gaze flickered to the side. “I figured you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Your fingers clenched. “Are you kidding me? You literally walked away first.”

He exhaled through his nose, shutting his laptop. “I was pissed, Y/N. You said—” He hesitated. “You said I should just break up with you.”

Your breath caught.

“…And you said maybe you should.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I meant that?”

“I don’t know, Sunghoon. Did you?”

His brows furrowed, like the idea alone irritated him. “No. I didn’t.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“Did you?”

Your lips parted slightly, realization crashing over you. “No,” you admitted. “I didn’t.”

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand down his face. “Then why the hell did we let this go on for four days?”

You swallowed hard. “Because we’re both stupid?”

For the first time in days, his lips twitched slightly.

Then he shook his head, exhaling. “I hate fighting with you.”

Your chest ached.

“…Me too.”

Sunghoon studied you for a moment, then reached out—pulling you into his arms, right there in the middle of the library.

You stiffened for half a second before melting into his warmth, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I didn’t mean it,” he murmured against your hair. “Any of it.”

Your throat tightened. “Me neither.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, teasingly—

“You are dramatic, though.”

You pinched his side. “Shut up, Park.”

His laugh was quiet, but real. “I missed you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“I missed you too.”

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcarsheesh @rikifever

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hi!! will slowly but surely post parts of hyper&chill since exams are coming!! but since i miss them extra today >< i decided to post hehe enjoy!!

love lots! - rierie

[dumbhungsubboy]

Dinner date with mommy, nothing out of the ordinary, she’s beautiful, fun to talk to, we enjoy the meal. Well except that she kept checking her purse. But that’s no big deal right?

Right before we leave she heads to the restroom, so I wait outside the restaurant, enjoying the night, ready for our walk home, can’t wait to hold her hand.

After a short while she comes out, and obviously I’m excited to see her as always, sure it was like 10 minutes but I missed her and I go to hug her and she pushes me away.

That’s really weird.

I thought it’d been a good night. Did I do something wrong?

She still holds my hand while we walk back towards our place, so that’s nice at least. She seems really fidgety tho. A little nervous. Even lost her normal gait, the way she walks so confidently and elegant. Her steps seem shuffled. Awkward. I’m concerned.

“Are you okay??”

She glares “I’m fine.”

I know not to push too hard. But I’m worried.

“Did I do something? You seem really off, are you sure you’re fine?”

“You talk a lot, just trust me.” She snaps.

“Yes maam I’m just worr-“

Im cut off as she yanks me by the hand into an alley we were passing, grabbing the neck of my shirt and forcing me to my knees

“I said I’m FINE, I’m just nervous, but we are doing this, I need this.” desperation and annoyance lacing her voice

“Need what?”

She says nothing, simply lifts her sweater, lowering the waistband of her pants and panties, a strap on slowly revealing itself as she pulled them down.

That must be why she took so long in the restroom. Checking her purse. Making sure it’s there. It’s making sense now.

She stops when half the shaft is visible crossing her arms. I take it as a sign to finish. I’m so nervous. I keep going though. It’s for her.

And when it’s finally out, I realize it’s pretty big. And that she’s soaked.

Next thing I know she’s grabbed my hair and is forcing it between my lips, any semblance of gentleness has left her, she’s being rough, forcing it into my throat, I’m gagging but also find myself reaching around for her ass to push her deeper.

She’s moaning, admiring the tears welling up in my eyes, I’m choking, drooling, whimpering

She pulls out after a minute, whisper sternly one word “UP.” And I stand.

She turns me around, presses my face into the cold rough brick wall, I can feel it scrape my cheek as she slides the tip of the strap inside of me. Deeper. I can feel myself squeezing her. I’m whimpering. Crying. I love it but it hurts.

And I moan and spit out half coherent thoughts as she fucks me, getting louder and louder before I feel her hand over my mouth. Moaning into her palm, it’s warm, my breath making it hotter.

She fucks me hard, her free hand touching herself and she doesn’t stop until I feel her strap shudder inside of me as she cums.

I’m a mess, I can’t stand, I can’t think, I feel lost.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up, I’m going to make it all better, don’t you worry” she coos, such tonal whiplash. I can’t think. It doesn’t matter. I’m leaning on her to walk. We pass by someone on the way home, they stop to ask if I’m okay. I must look awful.

She smiles, so much cheer in her voice, in her eyes

“Oh he’s just had a couple drinks too many, he’s fine!”

If only that person knew the truth.

[wrestlingwithlife]

Chew Toy (COD MONSTER AU)

When you have a mouthy werewolf on the team it pays to have thick skin (or scales).

COD!Monster!AU x Male!Kaiju!Reader

——————————————————————————————————————

Y/n let his eyes follow Soap’s pacing figure as he practically stalked around the common room, obviously restless.

His clawed hand came up, scratching at the skin around his collar.

Price had argued against it, but the higher ups had insisted on the kaiju wearing some kind of “fail safe” of sorts, should he go rouge.

So they settled on a shock collar, much to the displeasure of the task force.

Price had been badgering Laswell to get the order revoked, and the human female was doing her best, but Y/n wasn’t going to complain.

This was a massive upgrade to what he was used to.

“Is it like this for every werewolf?”

Soap’s eyes honed in on the Kaiju, zoning back in to process his question.

His eyes were a much more vibrant shade of blue, atleast they seemed to Y/n.

The werewolf flopped onto the couch with a huff, the cushion dipping and making him accidentally lean closer to the warm body beside him.

Allegedly.

“It’s different for every wolf, but they all experience atleast something similar on full moons.” Soap shrugged, tail flicking back and forth.

Seemed like at least one part of his body insisted on being active.

“Do kaiju’s get anything like that?”

Y/n clicked his tongue, leaning his head back in thought.

He’d only ever met one other Kaiju in his life cycle, and she’d seemed nothing but perfectly calm and capable at any given moment.

“Not that I know of, nothing like this though.” He mused, nodding to Soap’s twitching. “There’s no set time for it, at the very least.”

Soap mulled over his words before his thoughts were cut off.

“How do you cope?”

His eyes flickered back to the kaiju, eyes locking on to the intense e/c hues.

He was honestly shocked, and quite pleased, at how much he was putting into the conversation.

“Depends, sometimes I’m just put in quarantine, most of the time guys come in and help me blow off some steam.”

He caught the way Y/n stopped, giving him a look out of the corner of his eye.

In his defense, coming out of Soap, you just never knew.

“Not like that.” The werewolf huffed, swatting at the larger hybrids arm, before giving him a grin. “But if you wanna…~”

“Down boy.” Y/n snorted, shrugging the wolf off him.

Soap barked out a laugh, tossing his head back, tail speeding up.

“We’ll see~”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜・

Y/n stood behind Ghost, watch over the wraiths shoulder through the one way glass into the padded training room.

Soap’s wolf prowled around, occasionally lunging at the few training dummies that had been left inside.

“Shouldn’t he have calmed down by now?” Gaz mused, leaning against one of the walls of the viewing room with his arms folded over his chest.

Price sighed, scratching his beard with a nod.

“Doesn’t normally take him this long. I’d say we go down, but he’s more mouthy than usual.”

“I can do it.”

All eyes turned onto the Kaiju, mostly out of surprise that he’d even spoken up at all.

“You sure? You’ve not gone through…” There was a loud rip as Soap tore the head off a dummy. “…this.”

Y/n shrugged, his heavy tail scraping the concrete floor behind him.

“My skins impenetrable, atleast to anything he can do, even like this.” He motioned to the wolf still throwing a fit below them.

Price mulled over it for a moment before reluctantly giving in.

“Fine, but if he gets to wild I’m pulling you out.”

Y/n made his way out of the viewing room and down towards the training room door.

Soap had honed in on him the second he’d heard the door click, posture ridged and ears forward.

His tail was wagging, and Y/n would have taken that as good sign, had he not immediately come barreling towards him.

Y/n braced, catching the wolf on his shoulder and stopping him in his tracks.

He heard the snapping of jaws, but even in the places they were able to connect, they couldn’t break the Kaiju’s skin.

Y/n managed to get his arms around the werewolf’s neck, trapping him in a headlock and dragging them both to the floor.

Soap’s tongue lolled out as they wrestled, blue eyes widening as Y/n’s arm came within reach, lunging for the exposed limb.

The s/c skin immediately changed black as it hardened protectively, the werewolves ivory teeth bouncing off uselessly.

Soap broke away, eyes wide as he stared, as if offended, at the slowly fading color of Y/n’s arm.

He huffed, curiosity seemingly taking over whatever fight he had left as he padded closer, sniffing at the skin of the arm.

The kaiju offered the arm to him for a closer look, happy to do this instead of wrestle.

Soap gave the skin a tentative lick, eyeing Y/n’s face before taking the arm back into his mouth and biting down again, softer this time.

Once again, the skin changed color, hardening where the teeth pressed.

He let out a rumble, the brown canine clearly unsure what to make of his new discovery.

The door to the room opened again, the rest of the force making their way in, but Soap hardly looked up from Y/n’s arm.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜・

“Got any threes?”

“Go fish.”

Gaz groaned, drawing a card from the pile, giving Y/n a skeptical look.

“You’re cheating.”

“Who cheats at ‘Go Fish’?”

His wings fluffed, almost hitting Price who was sitting behind him, watching over his shoulder.

Ghost was doing to the same to Y/n, leaning closer to peer over his cards.

“Nope, he’s got a clear conscience.”

Y/n gave a pleased hum, shifting a bit as Soap moved his tail once more.

The wolf was splayed out behind the group, the Kaiju’s black, scaled tail held between his two front paws as he gnawed on the end.

Y/n could hardly feel the pressure, and besides the wolf drool, there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary when the wolf would pull back to look at his work.

“Got any fours?”

Gaz grumbled, but passed the card to Y/n who added the pair to his ever growing collection.

“Yer getting obliterated.” Price chuckled, dodging a wing slap from Gaz.

“I know that!”

The outburst drew Soap’s attention, the werewolf now keen on being apart of the circle.

Y/n felt his tail drop, looking back only to see the quickly approaching wall of fur and muscle.

Neither Y/n nor Ghost stood a chance as the werewolf came crashing down onto the them, pinning the two under his massive weight.

“Get off, ya mutt.” The wraith hissed, fighting to free atleast one of his limbs, shadows pulling and pushing on the canine to try and will him to move with no such luck.

Y/n groan as the air was forced out of his lungs, dodging playful licks to the face as best as he could.

The cards were scattered everywhere, Price and Gaz blinking in surprise at the turn.

“Does this mean I win?”

Soap whipped his head around, tongue lolling, giving Y/n a chance to catch his breath.

Soap reached out with a massive paw, hooking it around Gaz. Price, who’d been sitting to close, getting dragged in along with him in a mass of tangled wings and thrashing tails.

Price grunted, getting tucked right next to Y/n beneath the mass of fur.

“Come here often?”

Price rolled his eyes playfully at that, swatting the e/c eyed male with his tail.

“More often than not.”

“So this is normal?” Y/n nodded up at Soap, who was now giving Gaz the same treatment he’d give Y/n moments before.

“Eh, something along the lines of it. Never seen this before.” He mused, using his one free arm to gesture to the dog pile they were trapped in.

Y/n puffed before settling back, as if accepting his fate, and Price followed suite, head flopping back against the padded floor.

The dragon felt the scraping of other scales against his tail, finding that his tail had instinctively wrapped itself with the thicker tail of the Kaiju beside him.

He was about to apologize, to move his rouge appendage, when he felt the other’s tail tighten around his in return.

No words were said, they didn’t need to be, Price was already turning a pretty shade of pink.

—————————————————————————

Boom, only took me way to long to get this done haha

Sorry if the ending felt a bit abrupt, I wanted to end on something fluffy but obviously nothing romantic has been established in this story line and I didn’t want to have them acting to out of character.

So I still haven’t decided on a call sign yet, but I have narrowed it down to two choices for you guys to pick from below, so please let me know!

[houseslollipop]

play the game

you’re a new rheumatologist at ppth. when dr house realizes your intelligence, he becomes easily obsessed. a game of cat and mouse ensues. gregory house x reader.

first house md fic so ty for reading <33 this is self indulgent (right around 4k words). i look forward to writing more like this, i am now taking requests via my ask box :) warnings below. also available on my ao3 greghouseluvr if that is your preferred platform.

mdni, enemies to lovers (i think ?!), pill popping mentions, tw death mentions, some smut, reader referred to with she/her pronouns at times, asshole greg house, i am NOT a medical professional

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

“We need you for a consult,” you hear your friend’s familiar voice from behind you as you reach to open the door to your office.

“Cameron,” you rest your forehead against the wooden door, you’re tired and ready to finish your charting, “do you at least have the file?”

She shakes her head of brunette curls and looks down at the carpeted floor.

“Fine, let’s go.”

You know that the Diagnostics Team would only use you in an emergency. It was probably Cameron’s idea, given that she’s a close friend of yours. Her boss doesn’t seem to be a fan of people stepping on his toes — especially when it comes to his cases.

“Is House okay with me giving my medical opinion?” You ask as you make your way down the hall.

Cameron shrugs, “I don’t know. I just want a second opinion before we pump this eleven-year-old full of steroids.”

A sense of dread fills you. Consults are normal for you, but you’ve never done one for Dr. House. He’s infamous for his outlandish attitude and horrible manners, but he’s a genius. You better not screw this up. Or worse.

Cameron opens the door to the Diagnostics Office.

Gregory House, M.D.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” House gestures towards you and Cameron, “did you two come up with a differential while you were screwing?”

You stand there in a daze, trying to make something of the whiteboard that has about twenty symptoms scribbled on it.

“Who has the file?” Cameron ignores House’s crude remarks, looking to her colleagues.

Dr. Foreman hands it to her, a slim red file.

You read the case back to front — an 11-year-old girl presenting with muscle weakness and several skin rashes. She had just been on a cruise a few weekends ago and plays in a soccer league.

“Has to be juvenile dermatomyositis,” you quickly hand the file back to Foreman, “best treatment is steroids.”

Dr. House shuffles towards his desk, “You heard her, start the treatment.”

Without a minute to spare, the ducklings flee to the ICU to begin treating the patient for your diagnosis. You begin to walk with them, but House stops you.

“You,” he points his cane at you, “not bad. I’ll let you know if the kid survives.”

You nod your head politely and leave his office. You still have a whole day’s worth of charting to catch up on. You can see House throwing a red tennis ball up in the air as you leave, his ankles crossed on his desk. His eyes never falter their watch on you.

A man in a perfectly pressed lab coat heads into Dr. House’s office after you leave. The oncologist — Dr. Wilson. They’re always following each other around.

“I didn’t know you made nice with the new rheumatologist,” Wilson begins his interrogation.

House puts the tennis ball down for a moment, “It was just a consult, it was Cameron’s idiotic idea.”

“So… a beautiful, intelligent doctor didn’t do anything for you?”

“It obviously did something for you,” House scratches the side of his jaw, “weird, I thought hot nurses were more your speed.”

Wilson tries to come up with something witty, but unfortunately there is not much he can muster.

“Come on House, why won’t you just let yourself be vulnerable for once?” He continues his chattering as he follows House into the elevator.

House presses the button to take them to the ICU, “vulnerability is a weakness.”

The ICU is buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle, the smell of disinfectant travels up House’s nostrils. He and Wilson make their way to the patient’s room. House would never admit it — but he has been worried about the patient. She’s only a child, the emergency room had suspected heat exhaustion or an allergic reaction. Electrolytes and allergy tests didn’t help. They were running out of diagnoses.

“She’s doing better already,” Chase emerges from the patient’s room. “Steroids have calmed the inflammatory reactions, she’s resting.”

“So it is dermatomyositis,” House stares at the patient through the glass, “start her on Methotrexate in a few hours.”

“That’s it?” Chase crosses his arms in question, “The case is over?”

“That’s it,” House turns back to the elevator, “she can be discharged tomorrow, let the parents know to bring her to a pediatric rheumatologist.”

You solved a case so quickly that House had nothing to say. They had run every test, exhausted every diagnosis — and all you had to do was read the damn file.

He can’t tell if he’s attracted to your sharp intelligence or angered by it. He just knows that it frustrates him in a way he can’t explain. Just like he can’t explain why he wants to see you again, and again, and again.

“Interesting,” Wilson presses the elevator button this time, “it seems you’ve been outsmarted.”

House knows he’s been more than just outsmarted. At this point, being outsmarted is the least of his problems. Repressing his desires is the priority. It keeps replaying in his mind — the way you licked the tip of your index finger to flip the pages of the patient’s file, how you smoothed your hands over your modest skirt that left just enough to the imagination, how you’re so smart without even trying.

Your charting is barely getting started, you sort through various patients’ files trying to find a place to start. There are countless things you need to finish by the end of the week, but something is distracting you.

Dr. House.

His quick-wit, deep voice, and eyes you could get lost in. It feels so wrong to think of him in a way that makes your stomach drop, but you can’t help the bit of attraction you feel towards the older doctor. Cameron shares stories of his antics and schemes, making him sound like a mad scientist. You didn’t expect to enjoy his crudeness, to desire to be around him again.

The sound of your office door clicking open interrupts your thoughts.

“Dr. House,” you feel heat brimming up to the tips of your ears. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

You adjust your lab coat nervously, and try to make your messy desk look a bit neater.

He pulls out the chair adjacent to your desk. “You mind if I sit?” He says, “Bum leg.”

“Yeah… uhm, sorry,” you motion towards the chair, “is there something you need to discuss?”

“Actually, yes.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. He’s hard to read, his expression neutral as he mindlessly pops a pill into his mouth with no water.

“Is this about the patient?” You begin to panic, praying to whatever higher power that you hadn’t messed up the diagnosis. “Is she showing improvement?”

He twists the orange pill bottle between his fingers. “That’s the problem, she’s fine.”

“And that’s a problem… why?”

A deep breath fills his chest, “you solved the case, it’s over. She’s your patient.”

A look of bewilderment spreads over your face. The whole point of patient care is that patients get better.

House grasps his cane in a move to get up, his feet pointing towards the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice stops him in his tracks.

“Full of questions today, are we?” He shoots you a half-hearted smile, “You solved it, she’s yours. It’s that simple. You can prepare her for discharge tomorrow.”

Maybe his crudeness and holier-than-thou attitude isn’t so attractive, because his words are making your ears pound.

“Is this how you reward people for being smarter than you?” Your hands ball into fists in the pockets of your lab coat, you’ve never had someone make you feel so — small. Your intelligence is what has always given you the upper hand, and now it’s letting House kick you down the ladder.

He bites the inside of his cheek and flashes his stupid, ridiculous, awful blue eyes at you, “you may have cured my patient, but I keep the lights on at this hospital.”

The door clicks behind him when he leaves, the tapping of his wooden cane echoing down the hall.

You rub your temples, sinking back into your seat in defeat. It would have been in everybody’s best interest for you to refuse the consult, surely Cameron and the rest of House’s team would’ve come to the correct conclusion.

The patient had started on Methotrexate by morning. Even though Cameron explained to the parents that her condition was chronic, the parents were thrilled their child would live. You fasten on your badge as you hurry to the pediatric ward, your heels clicking against the tile floors.

“Good morning,” you greet the parents with a welcoming smile, “I am happy to share with you that your daughter will be able to go home this afternoon.”

The parents stare at Cameron blankly, “I thought Dr. House was in charge?” The father says.

“Dr. House is no longer the attending on your daughter’s case,” Cameron says, “let me go get the discharge paperwork.”

Cameron spots a familiar face at the nurse’s station, cane in hand.

“The family is asking for you,” Cameron cocks her head towards the patient’s room.

“Pretty sure mommy and daddy will be just fine,” House’s nose scrunches up, “our expert rheumatologist has it all under control.”

“Stop playing games,” Cameron snaps, “can’t you just move onto the next case?”

“Your friend is my next case,” he watches you speak to the patient’s family, he doesn’t do stuff like that, “studied at Duke, fellowship at Mayo Clinic… what else should I know?”

“Get over it, House,” Cameron staples the discharge paperwork and heads back to the patient’s room.

House leans on the nurse’s station, observing you and Cameron through the glass. He notices you take time with the patient, something he has never been good at. A smile tugs at his lips when you give the young girl a high-five.

“I recommend regular follow-ups with a pediatric rheumatologist for now, I will write a referral,” you tell the patient’s parents, “here is my card in case you have any further questions.”

You hand the patient’s file back to Dr. Cameron. As you walk out into the hallway, a wooden cane smacks into your chest.

“Excellent bedside manner,” Dr. House lowers his cane back down to the floor, “where’d they teach you that?”

“Are you hazing me?” You keep walking, purposely leaving him behind.

He catches up to you when you’re at the nurse’s station, you can feel his presence behind you. His warm breath fanning your neck, he’s so close you can hear his heartbeat.

You lean on the counter, scribbling on your notepad and trying to ignore him. The nurse across from you is trying not to stare.

“Just making an effort to get to know the person who is trying to take my job,” he tilts his head closer to your ear.

“I am not after your job,” you turn to face him, your eyes level with his chest, “my only intentions were to help Cameron and the patient.”

The look of anticipation on his face disappears, it’s replaced by rejection. The older man continues to follow you to the elevators, hot on your heels.

You know he’ll follow you into the elevator, piss you off some more. You keep moving past the elevators and head to the stairwell.

“That’s just evil,” he shakes his head at you, “have you no respect for cripples?”

His voice echoes through the stairwell, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“I’m sure you’ll catch me later,” you shrug, making your way down the rest of the stairs.

House tries to pry his eyes away from you, but he just watches your figure vanish down the stairwell. Only the pain in his leg was stopping him from following you. He reaches into his jacket pocket, feeling around for the small orange pill bottle.

“You know the whole ‘bullying-a-girl-means-you-like-her’ thing only works through junior high,” Wilson makes air quotes with his fingers.

“Oh, and you know everything about women,” House moves past Wilson, “how’s that third divorce going, by the way?”

Wilson crosses his arms, a strand of his dark hair falling between his brows, “you’re deflecting.”

House presses the elevator button with his cane, “actually, you deflected my question.”

The elevator takes them both to the first floor — the clinic. House despises the clinic. Patients wheezing, coughing, itching strange rashes and oozing from every orifice — and all their diagnoses are something that can easily be fixed with some rest, over-the-counter medication, or better decisions.

“There are two reasons you’d come here voluntarily,” Wilson grabs House by the forearm, stopping him, “either to bother Cuddy, or to keep up this strange scheme you have going on.”

“Maybe,” House dramatically clutches his chest, “I’m just upholding my oath to care for every patient.”

You’re in Exam Room 3, examining a man who appears to have swollen lymph nodes. You’d rather be finishing your charting, writing referrals, completing rounds — maybe anything else, but clinic hours are a requirement.

“Swollen lymph nodes are often caused by infections,” you feel the nodule below the man’s jaw, “been sick recently?”

He nods, but several knocks on the door interrupt the exam.

“I’m sorry, this will just be a moment.”

You crack open the door ever-so slightly, almost like you’re afraid of an intruder.

“Seriously?” You say through gritted teeth.

Dr. House’s icy blue eyes stare down at you, his pupils dilated like a cat on the hunt.

“I need you for a consult,” he hands you a patient’s file, you open it.

“House, this guy is in a coma.”

“Exactly!”

Something in your gut just can’t say no. Maybe it’s his salt-and-pepper beard or partially unbuttoned shirt that makes you only dislike him, but not hate him.

“Sir, no need to be concerned about your lymph nodes. If they’re still there in a month, come back to the clinic,” you say to the patient briefly.

“Toodles!” House waves to the patient and reaches over you to close the exam room door.

“I thought you didn’t want my help with patients,” you continue reading through the file as you follow House down the hall.

“I’m testing you,” he pops the cap of his pill bottle open, “maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Of course it’s a test. You could do this, you had already outsmarted him once.

House takes you to the patient’s room. It’s eerie, the only sound is the heart monitor beeping. The patient is an older man, and he’s been comatose for a month.

“Tell me,” House leans against the rail of the patient’s bed, “why is he in a coma?”

You feel like you’re back in residency, when those nasty attendings would put you on the spot.

You gulp, “patient presented to the emergency room with severe strep throat symptoms, patient had a consistently high fever —“

“Tell me something I don’t know,” House interrupts.

“Patient was admitted to the ICU as the fever, nausea, and vomiting had progressed overnight. Patient was a lifelong smoker, he had difficulty breathing and was put on a ventilator,” your eyes glance to the comatose man.

House keeps his gaze on you. He wants to watch how your hands clutch the file, how your chest heaves from speaking so quickly, how you nervously bite your glossy, swollen lips.

“While the patient was on ventilation, he went into cardiac arrest. He was not pronounced dead, but is now comatose,” you look up from the file and at House, “it’s rheumatic fever.”

He reaches across the patient’s bed, snatching the file from you.

“He could still be with us,” you touch the patient’s hand, “if his strep hadn’t gotten so bad, he would’ve been fine.”

“You knew what he had,” House scrubs his hand over his face, “I mean, I don’t care, but you knew.”

“You do care,” you begin walking out of the patient’s room, “you wanted me to be wrong.”

The tapping of the cane, you can hear it. He’s following you.

“I didn’t want you to be wrong,” he shoves the file under his arm.

“You didn’t want me to be right.”

“Then why’d you come with me?”

He’s in the elevator with you, following you, again. Perhaps this is some kind of weird social experiment he’s trying out.

You take him in for a moment. What would it be like, just one kiss? What would his big, rough hands feel like gripping your hips?

His eyes soften, and the crinkles by his eyes make you smile. He keeps close to you as you walk to your office, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“I’m going to go into my office now,” you open the door.

“Wouldn’t be chivalrous of me if I didn’t walk you in.”

Click.

“Did you lock the door?” You take your lab coat off, hanging it on the back of your chair.

“I think you need to get that checked,” he points to the doorknob. “Might be defective.”

It’s Dr. House, he’s just being a prick. That’s what you keep telling yourself.

You stand in front of him, observing the way he tenses up. The silence is palpable, and tension seethes through the both of you. You’re afraid if you touch, one of you might explode.

You muster up the confidence to grip his red dress shirt, his eyes going wide. You pull him against the wall into what can only be described as the most desperate, dirty, satisfying kiss you’ve ever experienced. An eruption of pleasure ignites through your body as House cradles your jaw, kissing you harder. His cane falls to the floor. Your lips are even softer than he had imagined, you taste like pure sweetness.

House feels like flying, electricity sparks throughout him. For the first time in months, he’s focused on something other than his pain. He slides his hand under your blouse, feeling your soft skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

The stubble of his beard against your face and his bruising kisses make you writhe against him. You’re putting your hands wherever you can reach, popping open the buttons of his shirt to explore him.

“Jackpot,” he takes a moment to admire your flushed face and seductive eyes.

You push him back towards your desk chair, pawing his jacket off. His lips continuously crash against yours, hot and needy. He makes a move to sink his teeth into your collarbone. It makes you feel dizzy, like he’s claiming you.

House sits under you, waiting for your next move. All rationality is neglected, and your hands begin unbuckling his belt.

Checkmate.

Hungry kisses make their way down your neck as House’s calloused hand migrates up your thigh, pulling down your underwear. Your office will be a mess by the time all is said and done, articles of clothing and paperwork strewn across the floor.

House isn’t the talkative type during a time like this, but he groans your name and his hands grip your hips firmly. His head falls back as you settle into a rhythm. He starts assisting your movements, his warm hands unbuttoning your blouse and roaming your body.

There’s more greedy kisses, you feel full to the brim with everything. Your legs shake, and all that you feel is House. His lips, his hands against your skin, his heart beating against yours. It’s euphoric.

Time slows down and your eyes briefly fall shut. House’s fingers trail down your spine, a soft smile upon his face.

His chest glistens with a sheen layer of sweat and his face is flushed. You’re willing to bet that seeing him in such a state of happiness is a rarity.

House picks up your underwear from the arm of your chair and shoves them in the pocket of his dress shirt, “I’m saving these for later.”

“I have a whole drawer of them at home.”

[yvesssssssss]

I have another request can you do a nagumo x reader where reader is lowkey (high key) insane? Like just randomly staring at the most random things and then laughing or talking to the air waking up screaming and then just giggling before going back to sleep things like that

Mad Love

(Nagumo Yoichi x Insane! Reader)

Nagumo had seen a lot of weird things in his life. Assassins who could bend bullets, an old man who could kill someone with a candy wrapper, even a guy who dodged death like it was a game of tag. But you? You were a different kind of bizarre.

And Nagumo Yoichi, self-proclaimed master of unpredictability, had never been more entertained.

The first time he realized something was off, he woke up in the middle of the night to your bloodcurdling scream.

His instincts kicked in immediately. He grabbed a knife from under his pillow, ready to fight off whoever—or whatever—had made you scream like that. But when he turned to you, expecting blood or an intruder, you were just lying there. Blankets bunched up to your chest, eyes half-lidded, and a lazy grin on your face.

You giggled. "Oops. False alarm."

Then you rolled over and went back to sleep like nothing happened.

Nagumo lay there, staring at the ceiling. His knife was still in his hand. He wasn't sure whether he should be concerned or impressed.

Then there was the time he caught you having a full-blown conversation with the air.

"…and that’s why I don’t trust them," you muttered, nodding sagely.

Nagumo leaned against the doorway, watching you with mild amusement. "Who’s ‘them’?"

You blinked, as if only just realizing he was there. Then, with a completely straight face, you said, "The pigeons, Yoichi. They’re planning something."

He snorted. "Oh, obviously. How could I forget?"

You went back to staring at the ceiling, as if listening to someone. Then you gasped. "Wait. What do you mean, betrayal?"

Nagumo arched a brow. "Are you breaking up with the ghosts again?"

You sighed, shoulders slumping. "No. But they’re really testing my patience."

He grinned. "Good thing I’m your real boyfriend, then."

You just stared at him for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing—loud, unhinged, tears-in-your-eyes laughing.

Nagumo just smirked. Yeah. He was keeping you forever.

One afternoon, he found you standing in the middle of the living room, staring intensely at a spoon on the table. You didn’t blink. You didn’t move. Just… stared.

Nagumo sat on the couch, rested his chin on his palm, and watched.

"Waiting for it to talk back?" he asked after five minutes.

You didn’t answer.

Ten minutes passed. Nagumo started placing bets with himself about whether you’d blink before the spoon did.

After fifteen minutes, you let out a dramatic sigh. "No. Just wondering how many people I could kill with this."

Nagumo grinned. "That’s my girl."

The thing was, Nagumo wasn’t normal either. He was a liar, a killer, a walking enigma wrapped in bad jokes and a smug smile. But you? You weren’t just unpredictable—you were a delightful mystery.

Some days, he wanted to solve you. Other days, he just wanted to sit back and enjoy the chaos.

Either way, he was in for the ride.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[gh0stly-mp3]

HIII I really like your work can you do this suggestion for me please ? The bllk boys reaction when they found out that Rin has s/o but not just any s/o but they're a famous footballer that every country want them to play for them and they're also the one who led France to victory in the world cup ! Thank you!!

Hi!! Thanks! Sorry for keeping you waiting! Well, I absolutely loved it! I really like the idea of badass reader, its one of my favorite tropes! Hope you like it! ♡

why choose him?! -> bllk fanfic

rin itoshi x soccer player gn!reader

synopsis: the bllk boys reactions to discovering that you, a badass player, is rin's partner

tags: kinda crack kinda cute, you're a badass, rin being rin (but in love), tried to be accured with the characters personalities but idk

warnings: none :D

masterlist.

It was supposed to be a normal, common and simple Instagram photo. You annoyed your boyfriend, Rin, until he finally let you take and post the damn picture. It was alright, the light wasn't the best, but there was a small smile on Rin's face that lit up the whole composition. You posted it. For you, everything was calm.

For Rin, everyone was chaos.

Isagi, Bachira and Reo were the first ones to talk to your boyfriend, dragging Nagi along. They were more than impressed, almost shocked that you would choose him.

"I didn't think that one of the best players in the world, would choose such a killjoy as a partner" - said Bachira. Rin almost murdered him that day, but since you would be mad at him, he chose not to go to jail (or worse, to disappoint you).

Reo and Isagi were much more polite, and showed their admiration. When leaving, Rin heard Reo say: "two very good players together, as partners... that sounds nice."

Then came Otoya who asked how did you both start dating and how long has it been. Karasu and Yukimiya complimented the picture and the relationship, but the first had a weird, curious look on his face, clearly jealous of you. Still, the three seemed quite excited to have someone so close to you right besides them.

Shidou obviously annoyed the hell out of Rin. He joked how he didn't know Rin could love another person, since he didn't know Rin could like anyone at all, but congratulated him on - "managing to seduce the all-mighty bringer of the world cup". - Charles, on the other hand, kept asking questions about the relationship, some quite invasive, some quite funny.

When discovering such a deed, Loki didn't know what exactly to feel. While it was good that Rin started dating, everyone was just... so excited. He almost felt jealous of your reputation. But if he wanted to surpass your abilities, he'd better keep working on that.

At the end of the day, pretty much everyone discovered your relationship. They either wanted to ask questions or were too surprised to say anything. Aryu did comment on how "glam" was your union, and Aiku complemented how much more "glam" it could become if a certain different player dated you instead of Rin.

[cynthiav06]

Hell yes. I have so many thoughts on this.

I have always headcanoned that Percy is super close with Aphrodite cabin cause you know they share certain interests. Aphrodite is of the ocean, and her children are also by extension of the ocean. Percy himself is a child of the Sea. Percy has much in common with children of Aphrodite as his connection with naiads and pegasi is something he shares with them. Therefore, all of the Aphrodite cabin is besties with Percy; every single one of them, because not only does he respect them and doesn't underestimate them, but he also shares their interests.

Exhibit A:

This might be speculation, but it fits, and I like it, so we are going with it. Percy is especially close with Drew. It used to be both Silena and Drew before the war. Drew totally completely looked up to Silena, and they shared a close sibling bond. Drew has not been the same after the loss of Silena, and neither has Percy or Clarisse.

Now,surprisingly or not, I have always liked Drew. I know Rick wrote her off as the stereotypical mean girl, but I think I always found her to be more authentic. I remember her cameo in Kane Chronicles. I was excited, assuming that she would have a bigger role there, maybe but no such luck. As for what Annabeth and Piper think of her? Well, they have a skewed perspective of many things, and it's a character flaw Rick hasn't really worked on at all in the case of Annabeth but at least a little in Piper’s case. [Tell me honestly if Piper and Annabeth don't have the vibes of the sort of girls who look down on other girls because they use makeup. And that conversation they had where Piper agreed that Annabeth should leash Percy and it was necessary? Come on, people, some things speak for themself]

Either way, Drew and Percy totally gossip about campers. It's not even the usual sort of gossip but the kind that involves intel on the campers. Percy is and has shown to be very good at manipulation/charming, and despite how he may seem, he has an innate need to know people's secrets. He doesn't have to always, but he would rather like knowing. It's one of his self-preservation mechanisms. He can make people talk as if he is their long-lost relative or close friend. He has done it at some point to everyone(only because nobody keeps him in the loop properly, so he has to resort to his own ways). I have always thought that trick was a bit like charmspeak. So it's understandable that he and Drew get along very well. They recognize that in each other. They are always underestimated at first glance, but nobody's pulling strings like those two. I have a post that explores this habit of Percy, HERE.

Drew's cold and a bit scathing attitude is her defense mechanism. Children of Aphrodite are considered overly emotional or sensitive, and it's her way of subverting that assumption. She's very good at it too, and Percy is one of the very few who sees and understands what it is at first glance. After all, he himself prefers to do things on his own rather than rely on others.

I have absolutely no basis for this, but remember when Percy was ostracized after his claiming and continued to be so up until after Titan's Curse? I think the Stoll brothers, Malcolm, Silena, or Drew, some campers from Demeter and Apollo Cabin(Yew and Gardner maybe) were the only people who talked to him normally during that period.

Another thing to remember is that when Piper met Drew, she was still recovering from the loss of Silena. And Piper, the new girl, who didn't even seem to respect Aphrodite cabin and their acceptance and love for femininity and the strength in feminine characteristics and emotions and various facets of beauty suddenly gets made Head Counselor out of nowhere just because she did one quest and is involved in the Great Prophecy. Mind you, it was a position that belonged to Silena before and to Drew after as Silena's succesor. It meant a lot to her, so obviously, Drew hates Piper. Everyone in the Aphrodite cabin hates her guts. They represent something that Piper doesn't understand and she is in a position that was just handed to her like a freebie out of nowhere, a position that belonged to someone very dear to all of the Aphrodite cabin whose loss was still very fresh in their mind and Piper had the audacity to insult them in their own home?

Also, note that Percy was missing by then, and [CHB] were all frantically searching for him. Before his disappearance, I headcanon(I canonize) that Drew and Clarisse used to sit together and talk fondly about their memories of Silena or just sit in silence. Because none of them would ever recover from this. Now, with Percy gone, Drew didn't have anyone else to rely on just as much. So yes, she was in a super rough patch, and she had every right to hate Piper. Hell, I am sure the reason Percy dislikes Piper stems from this as well. The Aphrodite Cabin told him of her behavior, and it didn't sit right with Percy. He wouldn't say it to Piper’s face quite so soon but he will give her a gentle reminder once things have settled down because he is the calmest, most tolerant person on the planet until you mess with someone he loves or cares for and then you are done for.

Drew and Percy are a very odd duo and a very frightening one. To others that is. They are actually very wholesome together.

Drew Tanaka gives Percy the safe space he needs to be a complete and utter bitch without remorse and thats why I believe with all my heart that they’re really close friends. No, I do not take constructive criticism.

[askanonbinary]

Hey, im looking to understand more about non binary people. I am strongly feminist and support equal rights etc, but im stuggling with understanding an aspect of people being non binary. What is the difference between being able to present and exist freely in any way one wants, while still being male or female, and being non binary?

I have been wondering if it is the standards and expectations of each gender that is too limiting, making people feel like they have to break out of the gender to be the way they want. It seems i might get pushback on this, which is okay. But i wonder what the difference is between being a man or woman who dresses and acts in any way they like, and a non binary person?

The one worry i have about the internet "culture" of different and specific gender labels is that especially girls who dont feel like they fit in society's very limiting definition of "girl" will remove themselves from the gender rather than be a part of widening the definition.

Could you give me your thoughts on these things?

So I went and looked at your blog and you seem like a normal person, rather than a bigot, so I'm going to take this earnestly and introduce you to what I call "Dome Theory."

Okay, so think about gender in two parts. There’s what is called the “activity of gender” and there’s what is called the “feeling of gender.” The activity of gender would be your participation in things like masculinity and femininity. So as a woman, wearing makeup or dresses. As a man, enjoying sports and physical tasks. This is really limiting, you're right. And when people come up against the limits of it, that might send them to question the feeling of gender. The feeling of gender is a little more complicated though. Because you can feel like your gender for a number of reasons, most of which will be hard to put into words… but you don’t have to participate in the acts that correspond with your gender to feel that.  So you don’t have to be feminine to be a woman or masculine to be a man. Which is a space a lot of people find themselves in when they question, rather than deciding they don't feel like a woman.

I think understanding what I mean, though, requires a bit of understanding of what it means to "feel" your gender. So to explain, I like to go with a metaphor I call “the domes.”  So you know how in the Hunger Games, the games are based in these domes that have their own geography, ecosystems, climate, terrain separate from The Capitol outside?  Well imagine that like gender.  

So for simplicity’s sake, I’m going to focus on men and women and I’m going to reduce the action of gender to one behavior. Just know it’s obviously a tad more complicated. So there are these two domes that have different geography, ecosystems, climate, and terrain based on the action of doing that gender. So let’s say women swim and men climb trees.  So the “woman” dome would have lots of water and docks and you learn to swim. It would be warm so that swimming is comfortable… that kind of stuff. Now, you could be good, bad, or mediocre at swimming (being feminine)… but if you feel like you belong there, that’s your gender.  The feeling of gender is how you feel about being placed in that dome.  A cis woman would be put into this dome as a baby and she wouldn’t feel wrong about being placed there… so she grew up learning to swim and didn’t feel bad or wrong about the climate or geography or terrain of your dome… It didn’t feel *wrong* to her.  That’s how she got her feeling of gender. But let’s say there'a a trans guy.. He would have been placed in the same “women’s” dome with her when he was a baby but he felt off about it. 

Say perhaps he wasn’t good at swimming. Or maybe he was but he just didn’t like it. Or maybe it wasn’t the swimming that bothered him, it just felt too hot in there. Or maybe it was something else.  Whatever it was, he looked outside of the dome and saw a dome right next to him where people climbed trees to get around. They swung on ropes to get from tree to tree and it looked so cool!  

They built houses and stores up in the trees.  There was water to drink and use, but not many people swam in it too much. the forest was dense and beautiful. He decided to take a trip over there and try out that dome. The second he walked in, it felt like home. He could be good, bad, mediocre at climbing tress, he could still swim… but for the most part, that dome just felt like home to him. It felt right. He felt off about being put in the woman’s dome, so he went looking for another place to be. 

Now, for nonbinary people, there are an infinite number of possibilities for domes. Your dome could be about any one thing, it could be about 3 things and really niche, it could change, you could just be out in the open. That's me, I made my own way in a non-binary open space. But we could have so many different domes for those of us who aren't in the man dome or the woman dome. And this, I hope illustrates what takes place in the questioning phase and how someone could find they don't fit in the very small bit of femininity/womanhood, which might lead them to question... but that isn't what the identity of nonbinary rests on.

Does that make sense? Do you have any follow up questions? I encourage discussion

-Mod Zoe Leo

[sunnylyly]

Bewitched ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader (fem)

Genre: social media au, modern au, kinda past friends to lovers

Summary: In the dazzling world of content creation, [name] and Scaramouche are two stars on parallel yet conflicting paths. She is Teyvat's beloved vlogger, known for her sincerity and warmth, while he reigns as the most influential streamer, a sharp-witted force impossible to ignore. Once childhood friends, now bitter rivals, their past remains a mystery—buried beneath a year of unspoken words and unresolved emotions!

"Bewitched" is a journey through love, betrayal, and self-destruction. It’s about falling for someone who was never supposed to matter again—and the painful, beautiful process of rediscovering what was lost.

Because even the strongest hearts can be bewitched.

Side ship: Slight mention of Navia x Chlorinde, Venti x Xiao, Lumine x Yoimiya (I think that's all but if it needs changes I'll update it)

Warnings: Angst (obviously) Mention of drinking alcohol, Swearing (Idk I'll update before every chapter)

Status: Ongoing

Author's note:

• Hi !! I didn't make an introduction but if y'all need one you can ask ! Just know for now that my name is Célénya!

• Also I'm French so I'm sorry if there's some grammatical errors and all...

• I already planned all of the chapter so it's normal if there's already all the name of them and 100 chapter..

• Also let me know if you want a playlist for each Song <3

• I don't really know what to say but there will be a sequel inspired by Epic the musical btw !

• Written chapter will be marked with a ✿⁠ (will add them there if the chapter added is written)

• And I hope it's to your liking, don't hesitate to give feedback!!

Profiles:

Delusional people ([name]'s friends)

Mentally unstable gang (scara's friends)

Dreamer*⁠.⁠✧

1- Let me be a dreamer 2- I can see the whole world from my own little cloud 3- you can't pin me down 4- Boys just make me cry 5- I'm giving up 6- I'm moving up into a cloud 7- No boys gonna be so smart as to try and pierce my porcelain heart 8- Some might call me mad 9- I fell right down the rabbit hole 10- And no boy's gonna kill the dreamer in me

Second best*⁠.⁠✧

11- I'll never forget how stupid in love I felt 12- I'll always regret how I couldn't tell 13- Left me behind 14- Kissed with somebody else in my mind 15- I loved you so much I settled for less 16- You were my everything 17- You swung me around in that midsummer dress 18- Held me in close as you thought of your past 19- But I'm still in love with this mess 20- I'm just your second best.

Haunted*⁠.⁠✧

21- One more kiss, wine stained lips 22- I don't want to go to sleep yet 23- Pale moonlight, misty eyes 24- I'll allow him to have him tonight 25- I hold on to every ounce of of sin 26- I know he don't love me quite like I love him 27- I swear at myself when he leaves at dawn 28- this will end, 'til he haunts me again 29- Rose perfume, low-lit room 30- And I hold on to every ounce of skin

Must be love*⁠.⁠✧

31- Time's moving so much later lately 32- It's like the world's playing a joke 33- Laughing at me for falling foolishly again 34- But something's different with you 35- Traffic on sunset doesn't phase me 36- that is until I touch you and I can't pretend 37- I lose myself again, I do 38- I'm all in, I'm fallin' 39- Can't get back up, can't think right, too tongue-tied 40- It must be love

While you were sleeping*⁠.⁠✧

41- I still can't believe that you noticed me an ocean away 42- The heavens would say it was meant to be 43- I'll never forget the first time I saw you then 44- Primrose at three, you had all of me 45- Without saying a word 46- I don't recognize myself 47- I'm dancing down street, smiling to strangers 48- Idiotic things 49- I trace it all back, three-thirty AM 50- That night something turned in me

Lovesick*⁠.⁠✧

51- Floorboards creaking in my home, deathly silence when alone 52- Oh, I wish that you were here now 53- So unlike me, somehow I fell in love in just 3 nights 54- Those November days still haunting me 55- When the gold ray fell on your skin and my hair got caught in the winds 56- The choir sang a melancholic hymn 57- In the morning you would be gone 58- I'd be mourning, tryin' to hold on to the memory of your lips 59- God I'm so lovesick, what have you done to me ? 60- Let me in your atmosphere

California and me*⁠.⁠✧

61- Should've figured out that you'd go back to New York 62- Don't consider me when you run back to her 63- You don't have to hide it, I know why you went 64- Said you needed space, I know better than that 65- Could've fought for you but I just let you leave 66- Hurt too much to consider that you didn't love me 67- The mountains of LA will weep through the night 68- Driving through sunset is a terrible sight 69- Left me and the ocean for your old fame 70- Holding back my tears, I couldn't make you stay

Promise*⁠.⁠✧

71- I made a promise to distance myself 72- took a flight, through aurora skies 73- Honestly I didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye 74- just see you very soon 75- It hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing with you 76- So I didn't call you for sixteen long days 77- And I should get a cigarette for so much restraint 78- No matter how long I resist temptation, I will always lose 79- I broke my promise, I called you last night 80- It hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing with you

Goddess*⁠.⁠✧

81- It always goes like this, could've predicted it 82- I'm so naive to think you loved me for me 83- Guess you're still growing up at thirty 84- I'm a goddess when I'm on stage 85- Human when we're alone 86- you took a star to bed, woke up to me 87- I am not your Aphrodite 88- You took me for a fool 89- You watched me rise then killed my light 90- I'm not your fucking goddess

Serendipity*⁠.⁠✧

91- I won't pretend I've been desolate 92- I won't pretend I've been blue 93- It happened so quickly, one second it hit me 94- I've fallen quite hard for you 95- Four-leaf clovers and lucky dimes 96- Coincidences and cosmic signs 97- Have proved that I'm quite naive 98- I'm falling fast, failing gravity 99- I swear that, this time, it's serendipity 100- Hope that you're still mine

The taglist is OPEN:

@skyoverkill1 @sesamemin @zuhahearts @scaraenthusiast1

[glittter-vamp]

I really like Joe but the him being constantly and very obviously high is super off putting. Imagine living with a guy like that - try having a normal day conversation. Maybe fun for a week or for a teenybopper hookup but over the age of 25 it’s just sad at one point.

I get that he lets go after the season but it’s sad that this is how he goes through his non-football life.

I think saying Joe is constantly high is a bit of a reach. We’ve gotten like what… two maybe three pictures of him where he looks high this off season?(we don’t even know if that’s truly the case it’s known his eyes are sensitive to like everything) This is a guy that just played the best football of his life (yet) this past season & unfortunately has nothing to show for it. A guy that’s been pretty open with his anxiety and mental health. A guy who is still dealing with a wrist injury. A guy apart of a team that is currently still disrespecting him and his teammates he cares about despite being vocal and advocating for the team.

He’s not hurting anyone. He’s minding his business, hanging out with himself at museums, hitting up small businesses in the town he’s grown up in, working out at his old university, going to events that are helping fight child hunger, accepting an award he didn’t really want again, watching & supporting his best friend do a fashion show and spending time with old high school friends. Let the guy get high & enjoy what’s left of his 20s.

[notenoughdramaaa]

I love sharing opinions no one asked for, so here’s one that will absolutely get me on Tumblr’s naughty list: Jily shippers are insufferable, and they need to learn to leave the rest of us alone.

Now, before the pitchforks come out, let’s get one thing straight: I have nothing against Lily Evans and James Potter. Adorable couple. Tragic love story. The whole series literally exists because they got together, so congrats to them, I guess. The problem isn’t Jily. It’s a few of the the Jily shippers.

There is no compromising with these people. None. Zero. Nœud. It’s their way or highway. As someone who ships Jegulus, I’ve had the misfortune of sharing tags with them, and let me tell you: I hate every single thing I saw. It’s not just that they think Jegulus is ridiculous (which, fine, everyone’s entitled to an opinion), but they take it so much further. Some of them genuinely believe that certain fic ideas shouldn’t exist just because they conflict with Jily canon.

- Regulus raising Harry? Blasphemy! Apparently, that’s “erasing Lily” and therefore misogynistic. Because, clearly, we are never allowed to explore an AU where things turn out differently from cannon.

- Lily not being the perfect mother? How dare you? The mere suggestion that she might have had personal ambitions, struggled with motherhood, ( or heaven forbid) not wanted kids at all is a personal attack.

- Lily being a lesbian? Absolutely not! Because, obviously, that’s just an evil ploy to invalidate Jily and an offensive way to justify a MxM ship.

- James falling in love with literally anyone else? Impossible! James Potter was born with “Property of Lily Evans” stamped on his forehead. His heart has never, and will never, belong to anyone else. Ever.

Also some Jily shippers love invading other ship’s tags. Because it’s not enough for them to enjoy their ship. No! They need to make sure no one else enjoys anything they forbid. I go looking for Jegulus content, and what do I find? Jily fans writing entire essays on why my ship is invalid. Excuse me, who asked you? I’m over here minding my own business, respecting Jily like a decent fanfic writer, and they’re out here hijacking tags like it’s their divine mission.

And the irony? If we dared to do the same to them, they’d lose their minds. One time, I commented that in my opinion, James and Regulus make a great couple, and the post’s owner responded with somethin like, "How dare you bring this filthness into my Jily post?" As if Jily shippers don’t do the exact same thing to Jegulus posts ALL. THE. TIME.

The best part? I was actually being nice for once. Normally, I am a jerk, but this one time I was being nice AND polite. Somehow that was still unacceptable. The double standards are truly something to behold.

Here’s the thing: I don’t care what you write. If you want to make Lily an all-powerful warrior queen who single-handedly takes down Voldemort, raises Harry, and becomes Minister of Magic while also starting a bakery on the side and adopting 50 cats go for it! Have a blast! I’m not stopping you. So why can’t I have my fun too? Why can’t I imagine a world where James and Regulus fall in love, or where Lily makes different choices? Isn’t that the whole point of writing/reading fics? To explore possibilities?

You know what? I will be hijacking the Jily tag now just to let them know that I mind my business, so they should mind theirs.