#steam train flicker

[livinghostly]

a family forged in curses – satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorry i haven't been writing work has been burning me out and i've been playing the sims in my free time to cope wc: 3.2k you and satoru get called to the office after an incident with megumi at school. fluff, mama bear reader, talks of child neglect ((no one is neglected)), tsumikiii and megumiii best siblings. think i went off too hard with the principal idk why i was pressed

satoru gojo sat in one of the stiff chairs of the principal’s office. heavy glands of sweat formed on his temple and slipped down to the hem of his uniform shirt. he braced the clamminess of his hands against the curve of the leather armrest. the air was thick, and as his chest heaved he inhaled the tension that constricted his throat with a tight burn. the fear was unfamiliar, spurring on the unsettling agitation of his stomach.

megumi was seated behind him, seemingly just as terrified– his eyes blown wide in horror as he stared at the black and blue knuckles laid in his lap. there was a dried bloodstain on his thumb, taunting him. he covered it with his opposite hand. 

it was a nice day outside, the sun was shining and it wasn’t too hot or too cold. sunlight filled the room and reflected off of the finish of the principal’s wooden desk.

“these recent developments in megumi’s behavior, truly, are just detestable. i truly can’t say i’ve seen anything like it in the years i’ve worked at this school.”

satoru’s eyes flickered to you, seated closest to the door. your hands were neatly clasped together over your crossed legs, posture straight as if it’d be graded. there was an attempt to portray yourself with amiableness, but he caught the disgust in your eyes. he’d seen it before, when making contact with the blood of a curse, the times utahime tried to cook for faculty parties, when satoru himself shoved his overseas souvenirs in your face that were way too sweet to be considered edible. though, they paled in comparison to the rage you seeped now. your smile was relaxed, polite, but the rest of your face was pinched with frustration. the temptation of smoothing over the space between your eyebrows tugged at his fingertips, but was pushed to the side as he watched the air around you turn to steam. 

on the way in you passed the nurse’s office. with a glance you caught on to the fact that there were a handful of middle schoolers sporting the spoils of megumi’s martial arts training. they were older, bigger, with teary eyes and blubbering incoherently about the recent string events to the staff. among them, tucked in the corner, was a kid much smaller and seemed to meet a different fate. he hugged his knees to his chest and stared longingly at the wall. there were a few scratches on his forehead and a crack in the lens of his glasses.

“it’s my understanding that megumi doesn’t have many friends here, and i’m afraid further acts of delinquency will only disconnect him from his peers.” the principal inhaled deeply. “it’s safe to say he already is considered a disgrace of some sort. his own sister seems to avoid him in the halls.”

your chest bobbed with slow, calming breaths. despite that, your tone was harsh, “i don’t mean to interrupt, but from my understanding, megumi stepped in on another student who was forced to eat pavement in the courtyard.”

megumi visibly winced at your inflection, curling himself into his seat a bit more and tucking his hands under his thighs. in the back of his mind, he knew he’d do it again. but he would do anything to prevent you from showing up to his school like this. the first few times an incident like this happened, it had been gojo alone who was called (he was much closer, with you being sent off on missions. and the staff preferred to speak with another teacher– it would be sound logic if it wasn’t gojo).

gojo, who nodded absentmindedly to the concerns of the staff and took megumi out for ice cream after. ice cream for himself, really– megumi’s appetite was usually flushed out by his embarrassment as soon as they left the office. he would probe gently at megumi’s antics, and conclude their outing by promising to downplay when speaking to you later.

the principal was a stout man, before you sat down you caught the slight wind of his feet swinging back and forth behind his desk. there was a disconnect between where the part in his hair once was and where the shiny toupee settled on his head. every so often, he scratched it with uncertainty and tousled his ‘hair’ into sticking in different directions.

“that is… handled–”

“because he handled it.” you said sharply, dragging your smile to your features again. the principal was seeing through it much more now. 

he sighed. “i called you here more to discuss the state of megumi’s relationships.”

“and how is this relevant to the incident at hand?” you spoke slowly, nodding your head forward as if to say: choose your next words wisely. 

“well, it’s hardly isolated. in most situations like these, the root cause stems from home life.” he rushes out his words, his accusatory stare turning to one of caution as he meets your eyes again. not so much for your sake, but for his. “to be frank, i don’t believe he’s receiving the right attention at home.”

there was a quiet shuffle outside, against the office door. out of your peripheral, you watched as a shadow was cast over the sliver of light peeking through the bottom by the squeaky rubber of what you knew were two pink tennis shoes. 

your jaw, if possible, tensed even more. megumi’s head snapped to you, catching the slightest tick as you jutted your chin in the direction of the principal. once he wasn’t so taken by fear, he could appreciate your ability to contain the cursed energy that flowed through you. he was unable to detect even a rouse of energy, whereas his nerves manifested in the palms of his fists with an unruly flame licking his forearms. beside him, he sensed the presence of gojo’s infinity, activated on pure reflex as his body recognized the looming hostility in the atmosphere.

“i have to say i disagree–” your head tilted to the side, and you ignored the loud gulp of your counterpart. 

“i expected as much. it’s my understanding that neither of you are all that present at home, it’s been said you both take long trips out of town for your work? is that true? have you considered the effects this has on megumi and tsumiki? i’ve heard she often–”

in an instant, your pupils shrank themselves into the size of needles, the color of your eyes remaining concentrated with anger. the muscles around your eyes twitched as you fought off the indignant expression that threatened to reveal itself.

“and i find this an inappropriate conversation to broach with megumi in the room,” your voice raised slightly as you cut him off. “there is a time, a place, and a counselor more suited for this discussion– and you’ve overlooked every measure and jumped to the conclusion he’s neglected? and from what, exactly? things that have ‘been said’ on campus grounds, by other children? rumors? i’m ashamed to see the lack of forethought prior and instead you jump to scrutinize blindly.”

every word was charged with venom, further filling the office space with an uncomfortable strain at their muscles. satoru winced, sliding his palms over the armrest to relieve himself of the sticky sweat he’d accumulated– and he had unconsciously squeezed the metal into a new shape. his chest was tight as you sucked the air from his lungs and used it to break down the principal with the eloquence of your words.

“it speaks to the reputation you’ve accrued, though. i expected as much.”

“excuse me–!”

you raised your palm. “i’m not sure i can. you summon us to an office to insult us and insunitate we aren’t parenting our son, not even present in his life, and on top of it have the gall to call him a delinquent?”

you rose to your feet, narrowed eyes still settled on the man in front of you. megumi and satoru were quick to rise with you, unsteady hands settling on their chairs to prevent them from hitting the floor. the principal went ignored as he urged satoru with his eyes to speak up, to put a stop to the scene before him. unfortunately for him, satoru’s eyes were trained on you with unwavering loyalty, waiting with baited breath for your next move. 

the principal faced his palm to you, gesturing for you to sit. “miss y/l/n–”

“it’s gojo.” you snagged your jacket from the armrest, glowering eyes promptly cutting him off. he gawked like a fish out of water, a thin layer of sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead. “you better update your damn records before the next time i’m back here.”

you opened the door swiftly, catching tsumiki side-stepping at the last second to feign innocence. a futile attempt, you both know, as she reddens with embarrassment and turns her head with a lingering pout.

following you into the empty halls of the middle school was like a breath of fresh air for satoru and megumi, the cool atmosphere consoling them from the warping heat of your vexation. the raven-haired boy gravitated to his sister as they shared a concerned expression, your unaccustomed anger driving knots into their stomachs. your silence was deafening, the only sound being the rapid thumps of your footsteps overshadowing the entourage of much quieter ones behind you.

satoru fell into step with you, slipping his glasses down to the tip of his nose as he observed. it was in his nature to poke the bear, to push and push and push until it broke, and he would relish in the chaos that followed. however, since you were thrust upon his life his mind was overridden with an instinct to preserve your open heart laid bare before him, to ease your tensions and give until there was nothing left of him. to pull you closer and closer until you were one.

at your wish, he’d part the seas and move mountains and throw himself across every puddle in between for you to walk on.

“tsumiki, megumi, can you go get your stuff from your lockers?” your tone softened, despite the crinkle you still held between your eyebrows. even as your anger dissipated, your frustrations lingered like the kindling of a fire ready to light itself again.

they nodded fervently, disappearing down one of the hallways with quick footsteps. satoru kept himself in line with you as you approached the vestibule of the school entrance, a delicate hand finding your wrist and fingers pressing gently into your palm. 

he closed the distance, leaning into you. his voice ghosted the shell of your ear as he teased, “you know, seeing you get all riled up was kind of hot.”

you scrunched your nose, biting back a smile. you didn’t have to look at him to know he was wiggling his eyebrows. unfortunately, even the days you tried to wallow in your anger he was there to sweep it away. “yeah, right. that’s why you were shaking in your boots.”

“shaking? me?” his free hand splayed against his chest and he looked to the ceiling with a roll of his eyes. “only out of concern for that poor principal.”

“you don’t think he deserved it?”

“i think you went too easy on him.” satoru smirked. it was your turn to roll your eyes. 

the two of you fell quiet again, satoru with an unrelenting stare. you finally met his eyes as he silently wished for, he poured admiration into his gaze and hopes you would let it cling to you in the way he was desperate to with his own arms.

your eyebrows narrowed again as a heavy could hung over your heade. as you began to reflect, your shoulders sagged under the weight of your thoughts. “he’s wrong though, right?” 

satoru forced you to take a proper hold of his hand, squeezing as you averted your gaze. 

“of course he’s wrong, we’re great to that little brat.” he threw his arm up in exaggeration, his body closely following as it wrapped itself around your shoulders like it had a mind of its own. there’s a comment lingering on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t utter it, knowing it’s stinging the back of your mind as well– it was either us or the zenin clan. “both of them. if they had any issues i’m sure they would’ve ran away already.”

you frowned at him. long ago, when satoru had first dragged them into your life, the fear loomed over you daily. the possibility of them running away, deciding the streets would be better than two crazed strangers that spoke of monsters and cursed energy, had constricted your muscles with fear to the point of physical exhaustion. 

you always tormented yourself with the question if they really liked living with you, being raised by you despite the chaos of jujutsu (and the excruciating taunts of satoru gojo). 

come to think of it, you don’t know the last time something like that crossed your mind. 

“really. you’re doing a great job, you always have. especially considering our…” he lowered his voice to a playful whisper, “unconventional circumstances.”

“do you think they want to leave?”

“not a chance. i’m sure they’re siphoning money out of my bank accounts as we speak, and they’ll use me ‘til i die.”

you smiled, shaking your head. the fear in your composure was beginning to resolve, as you melted into the warmth of his hand. he took that as his invitation to reel you in closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. he reached forward and gently pressed his thumb into the space between your eyebrows, satisfying the urge that had been buzzing his fingertips for what felt like forever. pride swelled in his chest when he pulled his hand away and you relaxed, your expression no longer holding on to your sorrows.

for good measure, he placed a sloppy, wet kiss in your cheek that you squealed at. he grinned as you tried pushing him away through your laughter, slapping against his chest– a futile attempt as he only tightened his grip on you and pulled you impossibly closer to land another one on your opposite cheek. 

“you– are so– annoying–!” you claimed through giggles, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. his slobber came with it, all that remained being the hot flush of embarrassment.

“how could you wipe away my love so easily?” he pouted. he began to dip you– or rather, you began to dip yourself as he leaned closer and closer. 

“we’re at a school, there could be children around.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, dangerously close to being horizontal. 

“so? at some point they take a sex ed class, right?”

“satoru!”

after scurrying through the halls, tsumiki watched with a bored stare as megumi stretched for the top shelf of his locker for his textbooks, her arms crossed as she leaned against the cream locker next to his. he still had to rise to his tippy toes, being a little less than a head shorter than her. she heard that boys hit their growth spurts later and it was a lot more sudden, she wondered if he’d end up taller.

he slipped each book into the backpack hanging half-zipped on his shoulder at a leisure pace. his pinched expression had a striking similarity to the one you held barreling out of the office, though he held less anger, and he seemed disconnected from his surroundings. there was a fog over his eyes while he mulled over his thoughts.

she rolled her eyes at the mysterious demeanor he fought so hard to maintain. she believed he probably thought he seemed cool that way– too cool to express his vulnerability.

“so, she called you her son.”

megumi glanced at her with a quick side-eye, pausing the rough shove of his textbook into his bag. as much as he wished to stay reserved and withdrawn from the rest of the world, she always seemed to know what he was thinking. annoyance weighed in his chest.

“okay, so?”

she looked at him expectantly. “so, how do you feel about it?”

“i feel fine.”

“are you going to say anything to her?”

he rolled his eyes. “it was a slip of the tongue, tsumiki. there’s nothing to say.”

she glared for a brief moment, before reaching for the last book at the top of his locker. it was tucked in the corner too far for him to grab himself, she wondered how he got it up there in the first place.

tsumiki handed it to him, and he begrudgingly accepted it. as much as he hated asking for help, he hated her offering without asking much more. 

“you know that’s not true. i heard her talking in there, she didn’t stutter once. she knew what she was saying, even if she was pissed off.”

he was quiet, shutting the metal door with a soft click that contrasted his hardened expression. or, the attempt he could muster with reddened cheeks and a gentle understanding in his gaze. guilt filled his stomach, you were really pissed. “so, what, you want me to start calling her mom?” he continued with a mumble, “i’m not calling gojo dad, ever.”

tsumiki didn’t point out that he implied he was open to calling you mom, instead turning her head with a proud smirk. ”pfft, he’d never let you live it down.”

the pair fell into stride in the hallway, soft footsteps echoing in the halls. megumi caught the glances of his peers in their classrooms, peaking into the hall window with curiosity wondering why they’d be roaming.

“maybe we get her a mother’s day card this year,” tsumiki pondered out loud, reflecting on the day in years past. thank you cards had sufficed thus far, despite the lingering tension around the holiday and the bouquets thrown on your dining room table, none of you ever broached the topic of motherhood.

megumi stayed quiet, looking out the window and ignored the growing grin of his sister. she knew well the lack of his pushback might as well have been him jumping up and down with glee. the picture drew out a muffled giggle that made his cheeks burn.

“do you think she’s mad?” he asked out loud. he knew you were. as long as you’d been in their lives there was an everlasting sweetness of your composure, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

tsumiki laughed loudly now, though short-lived as they turned the corner and spotted you at the end of the hall. your hair was a bit tousled and your husband had his arms wrapped around you pathetically, whining about something she was sure you could all agree was insignificant. you stood tall to the best of your ability, being weighed down by the stature of a 6’3” man.

your eyes snapped to them with a natural instinct, spotting the slightest figure of your dependents, your kids, and keeping a watchful eye. your gaze softened as tsumiki grinned, grabbing her brother's arm and pulling him to match her quickening pace.

she was always quite perceptive. from afar, she detected the warmth of your admiration reaching out with tentative fingers carefully beckoning them into your embrace. 

“i think she’s over it.”

(p.s. you weren’t– megumi was on dish duty and had to help tsumiki with her english homework that week.)

[corroded-hellfire]

no bc cockwarming with older!eddie is soooooooo

Oh I agree 100%. It’s something I need in my life but I guess I’ll have to settle for only having it in writing. Older!eddie my beloved 😍

Warnings: older!eddie, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, cockwarming, brat and brat tamer

Words: 3.3k

Eddie was never a sports fan. Never interested him, never played nor watched. His needing to be home to watch a game had never been an issue you’d had to deal with in your relationship. So, when the day comes that Eddie is more focused on something that’s on the television than you, you’re not having it. 

It’s a Saturday night and the two of you had finished off the pizza that you’d ordered, and you’d gone to take a shower. Halfway through your time spent in the steam, you start to feel a little lonely and wish your boyfriend would join you. Calling his name a few times doesn’t seem to work, even though the walls are thin in his trailer. With a pout, you step out of the shower and wrap a fuzzy towel around your body. Still dripping little droplets of water on the carpet, you pad down the hallway to see where your man is. Nothing Else Matters is coming from the television, and you find Eddie sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. You’ve heard enough Metallica through him to know that’s what’s on the tv, but you’re not sure what he’s so transfixed on.

“Whatcha watching, baby?” you ask.

His eyes flit briefly over to you before returning to the screen. “Metallica documentary.”

“Oh.” You take a few steps closer to the couch and cock your head to the side. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. You okay?” Eddie’s words are very monotone. You don’t doubt that there’s real concern for you there, but he couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted some company,” you say coyly. There’s no reaction from your boyfriend. Figuring you’ll make it plain as day for him, you drop your towel, leaving your naked body on full display. He turns his head towards you, his eyes staying on the television until the last moment, then flickering your way as well. Arching an eyebrow, Eddie pats his jean-clad thigh and looks back to the television. It’s not exactly the reaction you were looking for, but you’ll take it. 

You stroll over to him and perch yourself in his lap. His hands rest on your hips, but he tries to look around you at the television. Your gaze is trained on him, not quite a glare but only a skosh softer. Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you’re looking at him or he doesn’t care. So, you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently press your nails into his t-shirt covered skin, adding pressure bit by bit until he frowns and meets your eye.

“Ow, babe,” he says. “What was that for?”

“You haven’t looked at me once since I sat in your lap. Am I bothering you?” It’s hard to keep the snark out of your voice, even though you’re aware you sound like a petulant child.

“No,” Eddie says with a soft sigh. “I just want to watch this documentary. I haven’t seen it, and you know Metallica is my favorite.”

A groan tumbles from your lips as you drop your head forward and rest it on his shoulder. Cold water drips from your hair onto his neck, sending a shiver throughout his body.

“You want a blanket?” he asks. 

His words have you jolting upright and, this time, full-out glaring at him.

“You want me to cover up?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie says, suppressing an eye roll – he knows it will only make it worse. “You just got out of the shower, aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” you say. “So warm me up.”

“Babe, this is over in an hour, can we just–”

“Fine.” You move to get off his lap, but his large hands keep you pinned in place. The overly cheerful voice of a woman trying to sell some new workout video comes from behind you and it makes you huff. “So now that there’s a commercial you’ll pay attention to me?”

“You’re being a real brat, you know that?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you frown at him. “I just want to get some lovin’ from my boyfriend.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a sigh. “So desperate for my cock, huh? Be a good girl then, get on your knees.”

With how fast and hard your knees hit the threadbare carpet in the living room, Eddie suspects you’ll either have bruised knees or rug burn. But you don’t seem to mind one bit as you stare up at him with wide, eager eyes. Your hands immediately fly to Eddie’s belt, and you’ve undone that and his zipper in the short few seconds it took Eddie to lift his hips so you could slide his jeans and boxers down. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it—or stroked it, licked it, sucked it, had it inside of you, etc—the sight of Eddie’s cock still gets you immediately wet. The promise of the pleasure that he’s going to bring you. 

Being eye level with Eddie’s semi-hard cock has you licking your lips in greedy anticipation. Not able to wait one moment more, you lean forward and wrap your hand around the base of Eddie’s cock. His pubic hair brushes against the side of your hand with every stroke.

You push yourself up on your knees so you can let some saliva drip down onto Eddie’s cock, making it easier for you to work your hand over it. A groan slips from your lips as you eye the bead of precum gathering on the tip.

As if based purely on primal instinct, you lean in and run your tongue flat over the head. Eddie’s thighs tense around your head as you savor the salty tang that coats your tongue. 

You’re tempted to tease Eddie but with him already accusing you of acting like a brat, he might not let you suck him off. It’s been the toughest torture you’ve ever had to bear when Eddie makes you watch him get off all on his own. 

Not willing to take that risk, you engulf the head of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. One of Eddie’s hands rests on the back of your hair, not pushing, just lying there. It puts enough weight on your head to make you sink a little further down on his cock.

“Good girl,” Eddie drawls out. 

The praise does nothing to help the wetness that feels as if it will drool down your legs any second. You bob your head, taking a little more of him in each time you go down. Tears annoyingly pool in your eyes and you blink a few times to get them to roll down your cheeks; nothing is going to distract you from giving Eddie the best head you can. Just as you’re about to take him into your throat, Eddie’s fingers dig into your hair, rings lightly scraping against your scalp, and he pulls you off of him.

A whine of protest reflexively flies out of your mouth at the loss. Your brain hardly has time to wonder why your boyfriend pulled you off of him before he tugs your head backwards so you’re looking up at him. His attention is not on you though, it’s back on the television that you hear once again playing music you recognize as Metallica’s. Eddie is looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance as you pout up at him.

“Get up here,” he orders as he drops your hair. 

“What?” you ask. Using the back of your hands you wipe the tear streaks from your cheeks and the saliva that managed to leak out of your mouth. 

“Get. Up.”

You push yourself up on unsteady legs and Eddie groans in irritation as you block his view of the television. A strong hand grips your naked waist and pulls you forward until you’re tumbling into his lap. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Eddie’s voice is low and husky, the dominance in it sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to sit on my cock and keep quiet until this show is over. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get rewarded. If you’re a brat, you can get yourself off tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you reply, hardly above a whisper. 

Making sure to lean your torso to the side to keep out of his way, you straddle Eddie’s hips and reach behind you to line his cock up with your entrance. Slowly, you start to sink down on him, the initial stretch leading you to let out a low moan.

“Shhh,” Eddie chastises, never taking his eyes from the flickering screen behind you. 

Teeth gnash into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to keep yourself from making any other noises. Tense fingers dig into Eddie’s black t-shirt clad shoulders as you fully seat yourself on his lap. After you’ve given yourself a moment to adjust, you start to lift yourself up again, but Eddie immediately slams you back down.  

A sharp whine is forced out of you, and you grip the cotton material of Eddie’s shirt in your fists.

“Wha—” you start to ask but Eddie cuts you off.

“You’re going to sit here, completely still. You’re not going to move around or make a sound.”

You drop your head forward and rest your forehead on Eddie’s shoulder as you let out a small whimper. This is pure torture. Being so close to everything you want, but not allowed to rock your hips to make the dream a reality. 

Metallica music continues to play behind you and when you glance up at the older man, he has his entire focus on the show. You almost slip up and let out an irritated groan, but you know you’ll regret it if you do. 

A few minutes pass by but it feels like an eternity as you just sit there, half listening to the loud metal music coming from behind you as you slump against Eddie’s body. Just as a song comes to an end and yet another journalist begins to talk on camera, Eddie’s hips shift, causing him to move inside of you. The unexpected jolt has you gasping and burying your face into Eddie’s neck.

“Relax, I’m just making myself comfortable,” he says. 

You highly doubt that but keep your thoughts to yourself as you try to calm your body down again. Eddie’s a little shit and you’d put money on this being only the first time he messes with you, looking to see how far he can push before you push back. Sure enough, just as you’ve let your guard down and let your mind wander, there’s a sharp smack to your ass. The sting makes you jump, and Eddie’s hands instinctively move to your waist to steady you.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “My hand slipped.”

He’s full of shit and you both know it. Eddie’s playing dirty now and you have to think of a counterattack. Anything too obvious and he’ll make both of you get yourselves off tonight, so it has to be subtle. 

Moving slowly so as to not interrupt his television time, you curl against his chest so he can feel it when you expand your lungs and let out a silent yawn against his neck. As you yawned though, there may have been clenching of your walls around his dick. You feel more than hear the growl that reverberates through his chest. Now when you bite your lip it’s to keep the smile off your face. 

You peer over at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and see that this documentary should be over in about fifteen minutes. So close yet so far. The chill from your still wet skin is starting to settle in as well, which is going to make this quarter of an hour tick by even slower. 

Thankfully, the end of the show has some of the Metallica songs you’re more familiar with, so it gives you something to listen to while you wait for this test of wills to be over. With five minutes left you feel yourself getting antsy. Eddie just said until the documentary was over, right? Does that mean the second it’s done he’s going to start fucking you like you’ve been craving for what feels like hours now? Or will he be a prick some more and pretend like he doesn’t know what you’ve been waiting for this whole time. You’d place your bets on the second option. Eddie never turned down an opportunity to be a pain in the ass. 

The last song fades out and the show is over. You immediately sit up and look at Eddie with wide eyes. You did it. You had done what he asked of you and now you get your reward, right? Right? 

As nonchalantly as you’ve ever seen him, he raises his arms up over his head to stretch out his back and abdominal muscles. Usually, you’d take the opportunity to stare at his tummy when his shirt rode up, but with his cock literally inside of you it feels like a moot point. 

“Eddie,” you say. It’s not quite a whine, more like a poke—a nudge.

“Yes?”

He was going to drive you insane one of these days.

“It’s over, right?”

“It is.”

“So…?” you trail off.

“So, it was pretty good. Wish they had more metal documentaries like that.”

You’re two seconds away from putting your hands around Eddie’s throat—and not in the way he sometimes likes. 

“And I was good too, right?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him, and it takes Eddie a moment to compose himself enough not to laugh. 

“I guess you were.”

“So…” you drawl as you lean in to press soft kisses against the side of his neck. “Do I get my reward then?”

“What is it that you wanted, baby? Was it this?” Eddie rolls his hips up against yours and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Y-Yes,” you manage. “Need you, Eddie.”

“God, I love when you get all needy for my cock. Should I make you beg for it?”

He knows you will if he demands it. Eddie enjoys moments like this when he’s in full control, knowing you’ll do whatever he wants. That his cock drives you so wild that you become putty in his hands. It makes a nice change since in every other aspect of your relationship you have him wrapped around your little finger. 

“Please, please, Eddie,” you whine, fingers grasping at the front of his t-shirt. 

Eddie takes in your pouted lips and your widened eyes. He can’t help but smile at how utterly adorable you are; but somehow still the sexiest woman he’s ever met. 

“Alright, baby,” Eddie finally acquiesces. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand. Slowly and delicately, Eddie swipes his thumb right below your bottom eyelid. “Take what you want.”

The permission unlocks an energy reservoir you weren’t aware you had as you place your hands on Eddie’s shoulders for balance and push yourself up, almost letting his cock slip out. But at the last moment you lower yourself back down, the two of you moaning in tandem as he bottoms out again. You set a relentless pace as you begin to bounce on his cock. Eddie’s eyes hungrily watch your tits as they bounce along with you, providing your boyfriend with double the pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch. Teasing you was definitely worth it with the way you’re taking his cock for all its worth. 

Your hands move up Eddie’s shoulder and slide around to tangle your fingers at the dark curls at the base of his skull. 

“This what you wanted, huh?” Eddie asks and pauses to catch his labored breath. He can feel how wet you are and that tells him this is exactly what your goal was. “Needed to have me deep inside of you.”

“So deep,” you mutter with a nod.

“Mm, what would you do without me, baby?” Eddie taunts, lifting his hands to massage your breasts. 

“God, I would die.”

Eddie chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Nobody could make you feel as good as I do. I know.”

“Uh huh,” you pant. 

Eddie notices your movements becoming slower, the strength draining from your body. Persistent woman that you are, you keep going, moving up and down to take what you want. One of Eddie’s arms snakes around the small of your back and the other comes up to cup your cheek.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he says softly. Eddie turns to lay you down on the weathered couch and slides an old throw pillow beneath your hips. A loud whine of protest comes from deep in your chest when Eddie slips out of you as your positions change. “Love how desperate you get for me. Only me who gets to see you wrecked like this. So fuckin’ hot.”

As Eddie pushes himself back into your soaked, throbbing pussy your whines turn much more pleasurable. Your boyfriend holds onto the arm of the couch behind your head and uses the leverage to piston his hips. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cry.

“Too much?” Eddie teases, slowing his hips. “Should I stop?”

“Fuck, no.”

A cocky smirk grows on the older man’s face, a breathy chuckle coming from him at your vociferous reply. His hips pick up speed again, just as eager to please you as you are to be pleased. The arm that isn’t holding him steady against the couch runs over your tits, up your neck, and his fingers meet your lips. 

“Open.”

You let your jaw drop, letting Eddie slip his middle and forefinger into your mouth. Just as you did to his cock before, you swirl your tongue around the digits, the feeling of something in your mouth only making you feel that much fuller. Reluctantly, you let Eddie move his hand when he starts to pull away, but not before letting your bottom teeth gently graze against the pads of his fingers. 

Eddie’s hand dips down between your bodies and rubs tight circles over your clit. The added stimulation has your muscles tightening, that familiar buildup soaring in you. Your right hand clutches Eddie’s arm, the grip hard enough to leave bruises that will linger for the next few days. 

“Eddie, fuck.”

“That’s right. Cum for me, princess.”

“W-Wanna cum with you.”

He dips down and trails hot kisses from your chin, all the way down your throat. 

“You’ve been naked for the past hour,” he mumbles against your sweat covered skin. “Never mind how long I’ve been inside of you. You really think I’m gonna be able to last much longer? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

The urging is all you need before letting your orgasm wash over you, back arching off the couch, and pressing your tits against Eddie’s shirt. The clenching and fluttering of your walls around him has Eddie following right after you, spilling into you and filling you up. Wanting to make sure you take every single drop, Eddie fucks his cum into you even after his orgasm begins to wane. 

The weight of Eddie’s body pressing on top of yours is exactly what you need in the moments as your bliss fades away. Contentment fills the both of you as you breathe together, both sweaty and satiated. Eddie uses the last of the energy he has left to lift his head and press a few kisses to your shoulder. 

“I love you,” you whisper, reaching up to move some of the hair that’s sticking to his face. “I’d apologize for being a brat, but it turned out to work pretty damn well.”

“You are a brat but I’m good at handling it,” Eddie says with a soft smile. “And I love you too.”

“I feel like I need another shower,” you say, your sticky skin feeling attached to Eddie’s.

He looks up at you with those doe eyes and a cocky smile.

“Want some company?”

[pearlzier]

⊹ 🪼 ࣪ ✶ ˖

"do i have to?" matt begrudingly peels himself away from your body, heaving himself out of the bed. "yes, you do," he was dramatic, you knew that well, the pout adorning his lips telling you exactly how he felt about having to get up out of bed as opppsed to getting to cuddle with you all day. you watch as he trudges to the bathroom, but you smile as he calls out—

"join me?" a cheeky smirk plays on his lips when he glances back at you, and he wiggles his brows. you can't say no to that face, you realise, and a sigh slips past your lips when you, yourself, too get out of bed. "fine," pointing a finger at him playfully, you turn to fix the bed before you follow him to the bathroom.

you realise he's already ridden himself of his clothes, perhaps the eagerness of getting you in there with him getting him to speed up more than usual. you manage to get a glimpse of him from the mirror, and the little boyish smile he gives you when he catches your gaze. and then his brows raise, as if imploring you to hurry up. a giggle slips past his lips, eyes rolling. "you're so slow, you can't keep a guy waitin' this long, baby," he says matter of factly, running his fingers through his hair.

"we need to do patience training," you mumble as you shed yourself of your (his) shirt, slipping it onto the counter before ridding yourself of your pajama shorts and underwear, placing those with the shirt too. once you're certain you're done with the clothes and putting them away, you hop into the shower with matt, and catch his eye, but not for long.

in an almost pavlovian response, he rakes his gaze over your body with a flutter of his lashes when you step under the hot water, the steam fogging the shower door. matt swallows thickly, licking his lips, at the sight of you, as you do under his gaze, and the two of you just look at eachother for a moment. god, he thinks you're perfect. "see something you like?" you offer, baiting him, and he knows you are, but he takes it anyway.

"is it bad if i do?" matt groaned, hands reaching out to grasp at your hips, gently kneading and squeezing at the flesh as he drags you closer into his body. his cheeks flush, and he swallows hard, eyes flickering over you. "'cause i do," he mumbles, feeling how heavy his breathing is, knowing you can feel it too. he feels exposed under your gaze, even if he literally is exposed. "can't keep my eyes off you.."

you feel him urge your hips with a little nudge, and you turn, letting him back you up against the wall of the shower, finding yourself trapped between the tile and him. "yeah?" you ask coyly at his words, lashes fluttering whilst your chest rose and fell in gentle breaths. running a hand down his chest, feeling how slick with water it is, a low moan slips past your lips. his eyes darken a little at the feeling, and he bites back a whine.

"yeah," he drawls out, eyes locked on yours. "such a pretty girl," he tilts his head back as he swallows and tries to control himself, but his body has other ideas, clearly, as he feels heat travel downwards. meanwhile, matt tilts his head to the side a little, taking you in, and now you feel exposed under his gaze. he admires every inch of you, unable to believe he's this lucky. "turn around f'me, angel," he murmurs, brows raising expectantly as he did so.

you're biting back a soft sound when he asks you that, especially when he licks his lips after, and you nod obediently, doing as he asked. your body presses against the wet wall, tits pressed against the warm surface, a sight matt can't look away from for a moment, before he snaps out of it and looks back up at you with a shaky exhale. closing the gap between you, he steps closer, letting his front press against your back. "matt," you start, words low and needy when you feel his cock against your thigh, but his words soon quiet you. "shh, i know. god, baby.." his breath blows hot against your neck, overwhelming with the already hot shower, mouth grazing your skin.

his hands gently find your body, snaking around you to your front where they find purchase on your chest, cupping your tit and kneading it. you whine softly at the touch, your cheek pressing against the wall whilst you shut your eyes. his body against yours, his slow rutting against your ass, his hands on you like that. you're done for. "so pretty, princess.." he mumbles as he plays with your tits, giving them gentle squeezes before he lets go.

"mmh.." your pretty sounds make him groan, and his hand slowly traces down your stomach, fingers soon reaching your hips then your thighs. matt nuzzles his head into your shoulder gently, murmuring, "can i try something, angel?"

you're so warm, you don't even register his question for a moment. it takes you a second, but you nod, "can try anything you wanna." the water is so hot, he's so hot, both ways, and it's overwhelming in the best way possible for the both of you. "yeah? that's it," he smiles softly, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest at your words. his hand continues its downward journey till his fingers brush over your heat, gently spreading your folds, but with intent.

he's sucking a bruise into your neck when he slowly pushes his fingers into your wet cunt, the squelch drawing a soft sigh from his lips. "there's my girl," he mutters, "always so good for me," you're so tight, he has to slowly ease his fingers in against the faint resistance. you're practically melting into the wall, becoming one with it, trying to brace yourself as best as you can. "ah, matt.." you squirm, and at that, matt presses his body against you once more to hold you in place.

a growl leaves him once he can finally move his fingers when you've adjusted, slowly pumping in and out of you as his thumb slides up to your clit to rub in gentle, but firm circles. "can feel you squeezing around my fingers, baby," he sounds awed, in awe of you and your body. "yeah? that's it.." your thighs clamp around his hand, and a low chuckle escapes him at how needy you are, to keep him there, to get off.

"so perfect for me," matt groans out as he scissors his fingers, pumping them a little faster with every wet sound of your cunt. "such a perfect girl," his thumb continues its motions on your clit, a little firmer now. his chest rises and falls in quick breaths, his cock throbbing against your ass. he can't help the soft ruts he makes against the plush flesh, his eyss fluttering down to it for a moment before back on your face again. "can feel you squeezin' again, angel, you close, huh? gonna come all over my fingers?"

he coos playfully, sucking a dark mark the skin of your neck with little nibbles as his fingers thrust in and out of you quickly. the pace had picked up, causing you to cry out. thank god for the running water or else you might've been heard. "gonna come.." you mumble shakily, words soft and needy. "gonna come, gonna come, mmh, oh my god, matt—" your words become unintelligible the further and deeper his fingers go, and you feel a familiar knot in your abdomen begin to burst.

"i've got you, come for me, angel, that's it.." he holds you up, supporting your thighs as you gush on his fingers. "holy shit," you breathe out instantly. his eyes fluttering down to the sight. an awed laugh slips past his lips and he sighs dreamily, "that.. was fuckin' amazing," he can't help himself, as he slowly eases his fingers out of you. he brings them to his lips, cleaning them off with his tongue. the eroticism of it all makes you feel like you could pull off another ten of those in quick succession.

"need you," you gasp out softly once you've recovered, eyes lifting to his. his eyes meet yours soon after, and he smiles softly, leaning against you as he nods. "i know, baby.. need me so bad, don't you?" his hands slip over your thighs again, "i wanna ruin you," he coos, coaxing your thighs to spread as he flutters his gaxe over you. "atta girl, there we are.."

running his hands down his stomach, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, languid pump as a groan slips past his lips. his free hand runs to your front, back to your chest, and he squeezes warmly. "relax for me," he felt how tense you were, needing him so bad, and he needed you to calm down a little before he gave you what both of you wanted. "okay? there you go," he shifts closer, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole, smacking the head against you gently before he slowly pushed in, groaning softly.

you make the prettiest sound when he slides in, his cock stretching your pussy perfectly as you try to adjust to him. even if you two had done this plenty of times, you never really got used to him, he was just so good. "matt, holy.." you grunt out, "fuck," you gasp after. your lashes flutter, chest rising and falling in quick, heavy breaths. matt lets his forehead rest against your shoulder, nuzzling into you as he bottomed out.

"like this pussy was made for me," matt coos softly into your year as he pounded into you, the sounds of wet skin slapping against eachother resonating throughout the shower. he grasps your hips tightly, holding the two of you up. "taking me so well, that's it, god," the sounds are obscene, especially the ones coming from your mouth. his hands squeeze tightly at your thighs after a moment where he mutters, "turn around, wanna see your face." he leans back a bit, aiding your movement before his gaze meets yours, a coy smile playing on his lips. "matt," you blubber, seeing him only making that familiar knot grow tight once more.

"there she is, hi, pretty girl.." he cups his hand under your knee while he hooks your thigh over his hip, driving his cock deeper with the new position. he rested his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours with every thrust. lifting his hand to your chest, he circles his thumb over your nipple and pinches gently, cooing. "so tight, squeezin' the life out of me, like that.."

he shifts his weight, hiking your other leg over his hips, before he purrs softly, "hold on tight for me, huh? got a lot more left for you, angel."

a/n ☆ erm got a lil carried away but i like this a lot :3

taglist ★ @onlynextdoor , @junnniiieee07 , @st7rnioioss ۫ .

[rachalixie]

a/n: you've read you when minho gets hurt but get ready for a fun new concept of minho when you get hurt!!!!

if you thought that you turned into a mother hen when minho got hurt, the antithesis lives in the way minho would react when you were the one in pain. he’s calm and he teases but he somehow always knows exactly what to do, even before you yourself know what you want.

you weren’t particularly a clumsy person, but everyone has times where their feet refuse to work or they nick themselves in the neck with their hair straightener - or in your case now, when you take the biggest sip of your tea, forgetting that you had just made it and it was a near-boiling temperature. you have to resist the urge to spit it out, and it feels like fire working it’s way down your throat when your muscles finally cooperate enough for you to swallow the burning sip. 

you must make a noise, because minho’s attention - which was previously trained on the way your cat was licking his paw - flips to you so fast you’re surprised you didn’t hear his neck crack. his eyes flicker all over your body, from your head to your fingers and down to your legs like he was looking for blood to be gushing out of you. he must see something in your expression because he melts a bit when he meets your eyes, scooting himself closer to you and letting you lean into his body.

“what happened, mine?” he says, words curled up with fondness. 

“i burnt my tongue,” your say with a wince, the shape of the letters sending pings of pain across your tongue. you glare heatedly at the cup of steaming tea you left on the table, sitting there in it’s false innocence. you stick your tongue out at him like a petulant child, the cold air from the room soothing the ache a little bit.

“let me see,” he cups your face in his hand, pulling you closer to him so he could get a look - you’re sure your tongue is ridiculously red, and the look on your face even more so. he peers down, his eyes crossing a bit and he looks so cute that you want to bite him. he smiles a bit, leaning up to press a kiss to your tongue, a quick thing that catches you off guard. 

an unintelligible sound leaves your mouth, muffled by the way his fingers are still squeezing your cheeks and your tongue is still peeking out of your mouth. 

“did i fix it?” he looks so pleased, like he truly believed that his kiss would heal your physical wounds. you don’t have the heart to tell him that your tongue is still stinging when you put it back into your mouth, but he has healed any distress you were feeling on the inside, so you just nod and snuggle into him, tea forgotten.

it was so silly, such a simple thing, but something about it made your heart want to burst out of your chest. god, you love him, with every fiber in your being. you love him for knowing you, love him for knowing that while coddling is what he needs, a distraction was the cure that would sooth your hurt in any circumstance. 

later, you’d be pouty all day until he caved to your wide shiny eyes and went to buy you ice cream to soothe your tongue. later, he would spoon feed you and babble at you like you’re one of his kittens, later he would flutter kisses all over your face and tell you that you’re never allowed to be hurt when he’s around. 

right now, you’re content to sit in his arms with a burning tongue as long as he’s there.

—

soft hours

[celianity]

Movie Night

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having your nemesis attend your roommates' movie night takes a turn when some unresolved desires flare back up

Warnings: cursing, mentions of smut

Word count: 1.246

Author's note: would anyone be up for a continuation? _________________________________________

“You seriously bought sour cream and onion?” Emma eyes the bag of chips in Marie’s hand like it is a nuclear bomb.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the snack police?”

“It’s just a movie night, guys. No need to get at each other’s throats.” You try to be the voice of reason, but you are one pointless argument away from combusting into flames.

The drinks are wrong. The snacks are wrong. The placement of seating (for which you bared responsibility) is wrong. Well, there are only so many options to arrange the furniture in a dorm room.

“Shut up,” your roommates respond in unison.

“Nice to see that you can agree on something.” Emma is glaring daggers at you.

On some level, you understand their motives for organizing this night to hang out like normal teenagers for a change.

Things at the school have been slowly going downhill while you and your friends are still in the dark about most of the details. Too many questions, too little answers.

You can’t shake the feeling that that’s the motto for tonight too, but you wouldn’t dare to say that out loud. Marie would probably strangle you with her blood powers.

So, you have no choice but to suppress your annoyance, pull up an action movie on the flat screen TV by the door and fluff the pillows on Emma’s bed one last time.

Marie hands you a bowl of chips while announcing that Andre and Cate will not be the only ones attending tonight’s comfortable activities. Her lopsided smile does not soften the blow in the slightest like intended.

“Are you kidding me?” you groan out in frustration. “You can’t just invite my nemesis into my fucking bedroom.”

Marie shrugs her shoulders. “Technically, it’s our bedroom, so I’m allowed to invite whoever I please.”

Emma rushes to Marie’s defense, “Maybe that’s a good thing. Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer. Understanding them better might help you finally break into the Top Five.”

You intend to outrank Jordan Li with talent and power.

Not by studying their profile in the flickering light of a movie.

Not by watching their fingers grasp for the last crumbs of chips in the bowl.

And certainly not by wondering what they might be wearing to such a casual event. A tiny voice in the back of your head suggests a pair of grey sweatpants and you suddenly feel the urge to punch yourself in the face.

Instead, you hurry to build up that protective wall in your mind to hold back the quickly resurfacing memory fragments.

Hot breath on your swollen lips. Curious fingers, tracing patterns on a toned stomach, muscles tensing under your touch, wandering southwards. Feeling their need on your fingertips. Feeling your own, searing in the pit of your stomach. Hitching, matching breaths.

Oh, for fucks sake, Marie, what have you done?

---

You loathe feeling weak but that was exactly what pushed you into Jordan’s arms one lonely night a few days ago.

After failing yet again to access the full potential of your powers and expressing your frustration about the matter cursing like a sailor, you were looking for a distraction to blow off some steam.

And there they were, hastily typing away on their phone in the locker room of the training facility.

“Sounds like you have a shitty night too,” they observe, back turned to you, pulling their hair together into a ponytail.

When your eyes finally meet in the dimly lit room, you both know this is inevitable.

---

The movie’s quite entertaining, but you have to resist the urge to continuously let your eyes wander to Emma’s bed where Jordan occupies the spot at the edge, farthest away from you.

Emma and Marie block your view a bit with their legs upright.

From your own spot in the desk chair next to the bed, you restrain from craning your neck.

Andre and Cate are on the floor in front of you, totally engrossed by the plot of the film.

Of course, Jordan’s wearing those damn sweatpants, leaving little to the imagination. They waltzed in here, all tall and lean frame, running a hand through their short dark hair, flexing their bicep in the process.

You received a barely noticeable smirk in exchange for a pointed look.

---

Your staring’s getting obvious.

Your phone screen lights up in the dark, earning an annoyed sigh from Marie. At first, you don’t recognize the unknown number, but it doesn’t take you long to connect the dots.

Stealing phone numbers now? That’s really depressing.

You dim the brightness of your display and roll your chair back as quietly as possible to further shield if from prying eyes.

Must be able to contact you in the event of an emergency.

You frown, catching a glimpse of Jordan’s fingers typing again. Their irritatingly pretty face illuminated by soft blue light.

You’ve been avoiding me.

You’re not sure where this conversation is going, so you try to put an end to it as fast as possible.

I’m a busy person.

And I’m fucking sick of it.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard, afraid to make a wrong move that would burst this bubble of sudden tension.

That sounds like a you problem.

You take the safe route, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

Maybe you’ve trouble remembering, but you came on to me. Practically ambushing me in the dead of night.

Oh, fuck you.

Yeah, I’d hope that’s what you plan on doing tonight.

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks and begin typing again. Two can play this game.

If you ask nicely. I recall you’re good at begging.

Jordan’s laughter merges into an awkward coughing fit and you have to bite your tongue when Emma offers them a glass of water.

Getting a reaction fuels your… ambition. You’re getting bolder, tired of tiptoeing around the topic.

You know what else I recall? A fucking sleepless night after getting interrupted by that janitor. The imprints of your fingers all over my skin, between my legs, deep inside. Wishing every curve and hard edge of you up against me again in the dark. And no goddamn release.

The images come crashing down like a wave and you shift your weight, parting your thighs slightly, needing to get out of your own skin.

Jordan is catching onto your drift.

The image of you kneeling in front of me seared itself onto my brain. Those soft lips parted, ready to take every goddamn inch. I still feel your hair strands around my fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, in the flickering light of the TV, Jordan suddenly switches to their female form.

“That’s it, I’ve had enough,” Emma declares, startling everyone in their seats.

Andre pauses the movie, him and Cate turning to see what she is on about.

You hide your knowing grin behind a yawn. It is a small victory, but at what cost? You’re itching to tear your clothes along with your skin from your burning body.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I wish to be excluded from this narrative until you two have sorted it out. Emotionally, physically, or whatever.”

The silence is deafening. Almost guiltily, Jordan puts their phone aside, you follow suit.

“It’s like watching a movie in the middle of a fucking porn shoot. Now, if everyone agrees to behave themselves, can we continue, please?”

[generalsmemories]

An Immortal's Delight

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: i think jing yuan just needs someone to kiss his worries away to survive another day tbh, he deserves that.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, smooches and kisses in the bathtub (scandalous), he's just a tired baby please let him rest and get some cuddles and a pat on his fluffy head. spoilers for the main story in 1.2

✧ a/n: enough attempts on angst as the main genre i want my man happy again for like 3 posts before i attempt again, and i know ya'll want it too. it's cheesy, but HE NEEDS TO HAVE CHEESY MOMENTS PLEASE HE'S BEEN SUFFERING EVERYWHERE ELSE.

Jing Yuan has been submerging himself in the bath without answering your calls long enough for you to grow concernerd. You contemplate for a bit, there's still scrolls of unfinished work sitting by the dining table that you had brought from the Realm-Keeping Commission along with two plastic bags of Immortal's Delight that you bought on a whim while on your way home staring back at you.

Yanqing's not at home. The paperwork can also wait until he's out of the bath and in bed sleeping, and there's no pressing matters at hand for the both of us currently either- with those reasons in mind, you take another sip from your own immortal's delight to savor the taste while it's still cold before walking up to the bathroom door and opening it slowly.

You're immediatey hit with a wave of steam, barely able to make out Jing Yuan's figure amidst the mist. Your husband having an elbow propped up at the edge of the bathtub while resting his cheek on his closed fist. If he heard you come in he doesn't react, eyes closed while the water from the tap still runs, having long flowed over the edge.

Jing Yuan isn't behaving like his usual self lately - not after fate had toyed him like this to make him use two of his ones dearest friends whom he had had once released years back for the sake of Luofu. You can tell, you can see it in the wry smile he sports every day, you can see it in his eyes that flicker with the tiniest of emotions whenever he reports back to you for you to record and in his voice that wavers a tiny bit when he addresses his two old friends as names that are foreign to him.

He's the same general in everyone else's eyes, but in your eyes he's reverted back to his younger self who took on a role far too burdensome on his shoulders all those years ago. He can hide it beneath every meticulous plan and carefully thought out strategies, but you always see through him. You had back then, and you have now as well.

You strip off of your outer robes which leaves you in an undershirt whilst you slowly walk up to him. Making yourself comfortable by the edge of the bathtub, your fingers find the red ribbon that situates his long ponytail and pull it off.

"Darling," you hum, "If you're going to let yourself turn into a prune in here, at least make sure that the ribbon also comes off no?" your hand rests on his left cheek, a silent sign to make him look at you. And Jing Yuan is always obedient around you, opening his eyes to direct his gaze towards you. His other hand comes up to wrap loosely around your own hand, holding it still while he turns his head around to press his lips against your palm, "I would still be quite a handsome prune though, no?" he jokes with an empty chuckle - you're pretty sure his laughs have sounded empty since the stellaron incident first started.

"Debatable," you whisper, gently pulling your hand away to grip the edge of the bathtub, instead leaning down to press your lips against his cheek, "But you would most definitely be the most handsome prune in my eyes."

"That's a relief," he huffs playfully - although there's no playful tone present in his voice. It's numb and automatic, a trained response fitting of the general Jing Yuan of the Xianzhou Luofu. It could've fooled every other person, but not you. He can't fool you after all.

"I thought you had passed out in here, you were taking that long," you emphazise, lips moving from his cheek to kiss across his face, settling on pressing your lips a bit longer on the mole underneath his eyes.

"Mmm, sorry dear," he leans away from his fist, letting you cup his face between your hands while his right arm drops limply over the edge of the bathtub, "It was pretty comfortable in here that I lost track of time."

He never loses track of time.

"Jing Yuan," you call out gently, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead averting his eyes from your own as he grows quiet. He's probably contemplating an answer, if you were anyone else he could've easily breezed past the question with a mere acknowledgement that he's fine, but it's you. You're always able to figure him out as fast as his own foresight is able to foresee a necessary plan for a better tomorrow.

He still tries, "I'm fine," he ends up saying, "Just tired," he opens his mouth to add on more details, as if to prove to you he's really just tired, but no sound comes out.

"I know," you whisper, bringing your hand further up his face to brush his bangs away to bump your forehead gently against his, "I know you're tired, dear. But what's gotten you more tired than usual?"

Gently, he lifts a hand from the water up to your wrist. And you're already aware it's a silent request, to which you answer with a small smile and a nod. With a light tug, you get dragged down into the bathtub with your legs dangling over the edge. Jing Yuan had immediately buried his face into your neck, letting out a shuddering breath.

There's no people to care for in this small space, there's no general duties to attend to here and no setting aside his personal feelings or using old connections for his people. In this small space, there's only the feeling of your soft skin against his and the warm press of your lips on his head.

Just like back then after he had come back from defeating his master, after he had witnessed the deaths of his closer friends in battle and the punishment given to another. You're always there at the end of the day - waiting for him.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, dear?" you implore once again, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"As much as I'm able to keep it hidden at the heat of the moment," he whispers into your neck, taking another shaky breath to which you pat his naked back for, whispering for him to breathe. "I do admit that I once again had a bit of a youthful hope to bring something back from the past that I knew was not plausible."

You merely press your lips to his temple, aware that he's not finished talking judging by the way he takes another deep breath that ends in a low chuckle - a chuckle that sounded a tiny bit more genuine than his previous one.

"... And I think I can still feel the aftermaths of the fight against Phantylia."

"... Well that's no good," you hum. You've been very much aware that Jing Yuan is still recovering from the last battle against Phantylia. His body still weak and food even harder to consume. The little he does consume end up getting thrown back up because: "It feels like my insides are having a battle of its own still," which makes it harder to get Bailu's prescribed medicine down his throat.

You run your fingers down his back a couple of times before leaning away to pull his head out of your neck - he tries to protest, wanting to stay nestled in your neck so he can live inside the personal bubble you've created away from reality. But you're too insistent, gently coaxing him with small pats to his head until Jing Yuan finds himself staring back into your eyes. "In what way can you feel the aftermath?"

He's staring at your lips, "There's a vile taste in my mouth."

Your lips are immediately slotting over his own after that. It's soft, but sweeter than usual. He can taste a hint of brown sugar on your tongue, and perhaps it's because he's not directly consuming it, but he finds it easier to want more. So he leans in for more, grabbing the back of your neck to push you further into him. More, he needs more.

"You're going to swallow me up whole at this rate," you say with a giggle, parting slightly away from his lips and giving them a brief peck when he leaned slightly further into you, "But how did that taste?" you question.

"It tastes like someone's had an Immortal's Delight before coming in here," he jests, "It's good, I like that," he confirms before settling his forehead back on your shoulder.

"That's good, maybe I should drink more of them then before kissing you silly. I'm sure whatever you're eating now paired with Bailu's medicine won't give your tastebuds the best of flavors."

"That would make eating and drinking them a lot easier for my part," he mumbles from your shoulder, "Would have something to look forward to, being that Lady Bailu bans me from drinking such sugary treats at the moment."

You chuckle at the hint of sadness present in his voice, once again wrapping your arms around his shoulders so his senses are filled with your scent. Only then does his shoulders sink in relief - And you know that Jing Yuan will be fine for another day again.

"I can't guarantee that tomorrow will be any better from today," you mumble, "Neither can I guarantee that you won't be faced with a past that you were forced to move on from too soon for the sake of the Luofu," you let go of him to climb out of the bathtub, ignoring your clothes sticking to your skin as you extend a hand towards the man before you who meekly grabs it - squeezing your hand hard upon contact.

"I can however, guarantee that I'll be there waiting at the end of the day every time," you grab one of the fresh towels by the shelves to throw over his head, ruffling his hair slightly, "And take care of you when you want to just be Jing Yuan, and not the Arbiter General of the Luofu," you declare with a smile, "And kiss the vile taste of medicine in your mouth with the flavors of immortal's delight."

Before you can turn around again to grab a new towel to pat your clothes dry, Jing yuan tugs at your wrists and pulls you towards him. A hand coming up to cup your cheek before he bends slightly down to kiss you hard and hungrily. Kissing you breathless like you're all he has left - from back then and now in the present.

He can still taste the sugary drink on your lips - He wants to keep tasting them, he has quite a sweet tooth after all.

"I like the taste of immortal's Delight," he says, pressing his forehead against yours while he gazes at you softly, "So I hope you bought some for me too."

"I did, you can afford one cheat day," you grin, bringing both hands to cup his cheeks before pinching them, "But knowing you, you would still claim it tastes better on my lips, no?"

i- i'm. can someone tell i really love this man. like i want to wrap him in a blanket and say everything's going to be okay, that he can rest now because he's done his job and way more. that he deserves rest as much as the next person- i can volunteer to do that. please.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Dirty Alphabet

Pairing: Zoro x female reader

*banner*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man is a total sleepyhead but unless you really need something then he’ll get it for you but he’ll definitely tease you that he fucked you so good your legs don’t work

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I can see him as a tits man, just when you think he’s dozing off he’s sneaking a peek any chance he gets. Sanji isn’t the only one that can appreciate a good rack. His favorite body part on him is his hands for being able to hold his swords and you, hidden romantic at heart

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves making a mess on you for sure, will even smear his cum all around and taunt you on how messy you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to see you grind on his swords. The thought of you making his sheaths all shiny with your pretty juices makes his cock rock solid but he doesn’t want to freak you out so he just uses that fantasy to jerk off. If you asked him though by some rare chance that you might also have the same kink then don't be shocked by how fast he says yes

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

That man is a sexy ass living piece of art. I'm sure he has some experience but I don't think he’s good at being the one to initiate.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything with a view of your tits to watch them jiggle and bounce. Needing to be close to them so he can suck and lick them, marking them for when you wear low cut tops

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nah I can’t see him cracking to many jokes but I see him being a total tease

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He don’t have time to shave or trim he’s to busy training or napping 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Being on the same ship as that ‘dumb cook’ makes you learn a thing or two so I can see him bringing flowers but not saying anything sweet, just handing you some and looking off to the side. Lighting a few candles cause he likes seeing the light flicker off of your body as you’re bouncing on his cock. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Tbh for him it would be a training exercise, like building arm strength and stamina. But also to blow off some mental steam

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves dirty talk, he might not be good at romantic words but best believe he’ll have your panties off in a second with the way he can rile you up.

Wrestling kink lol ask him to wrestle or even say that you can pin him down and that man will go absolutely wild just to pin you down underneath him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Wherever he trains the most is were he’s gonna want to fuck you the most. It’s his safe space and wrecking you in it just sounds like a perfect plan

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your tits, and if you’re a brat who doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut he’s on go lol Zoro loves a challenge and being with a brat that can hold her own is all the fuel to his fire that he needs

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Having a threesome with the cook is a no go lol the stories are hot but realistically I can’t see it happening unless it’s to show you that he can fuck you better but sharing you in a relationship is a no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving it’s a workout for him. With his fighting style there’s no way that he wouldn’t want to absolutely wreck you with his tongue. As for receiving I can see him being obsessed with the 69 position or even reverse 69 so he can fuck your face and eat you at the same time

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mix of both for sure

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yup it’s another form of training lol but you have to be the one to bug him about it or he’ll just tease you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Public sex in the crow’s nest I can totally see happening while he whispers that you better keep it down before someone hears 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He doesn’t train everyday for nothing so best believe this green haired hottie can outlast you

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Don’t insult the man lol He is the toy lol but like his bandana though will definitely find it’s way into a few of your sex sessions

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The meanest but you love it , he lives to tease you every chance he gets 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dirty talkkkerrrrr!!! The sexiest raspy moans and groans ever, kissing along your neck so his deep voice just vibrates against your skin making you melt in the palm of his hands. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves making you squirm and brat taming you. If you happen to be an obedient chick then I can see him trying to pick a fight just to make you moody so he can fuck the attitude out of you

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick, veiny, long all the traits you can want in a dick just saying lol

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but he also loves loves sleep so its a always a battle of the too lol

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless you need something that man will hit the snooze button immediately but he’ll make sure that he doesn’t crush you if he happened to be on top lol

[crosshairlovebot]

welcome home / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: you return home to find hunter in the shower, and he shows you just how much he missed you while he was gone.

word count: 4,036

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. heavy scent kink. plot only if you squint. p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). slight overstimulation. lots of kissing. slight body worship. cr*ampie.

the need to write a part two to that hunter smut a couple of weeks ago was so strong there was no avoiding it. the hunter feels gripped me so hard they're shaking me around like a rag doll. i have never written a full smut sequence like this before, so please bear with me if it's not as perfect as i would like! i'm doing my best!

although the previous part (which is not essential to read to understand this) was written with gender-neutral pronouns, this part is with a female reader. i wanted to make sure i could actually write a scene like this since i've never done it before. gender-neutral smut is something i'd like to try in the future once i feel more comfortable writing in this style :)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You rode the slightly odorous lift up to your apartment floor, the doors sliding open slowly once it arrived. The hallway light flickered every minute or two as you approached the door to your humble abode, your body aching after working more overtime than you should’ve stayed for. Yawning, you pressed in the code before promptly walking into the still-closed door with a thud.

You frowned, suddenly more alert. You checked the panel and saw that you had just locked your apartment, not unlocked it. Living on Coruscant – especially in an area not known for being the safest corner of the planetary city – had informally trained you to watch for your safety almost constantly. And the possibility that your door may have been unlocked by someone who may or may not be waiting inside to hurt you was a red flag.

Heart beating faster, you pressed your ear up against the door, to see if you could hear anyone and your eyes widened when you heard a faint groan coming from inside.

Panic began to course through your veins, and you debated whether or not you should call the authorities before deciding against it. They wouldn’t get here in time to be of any use, and so many crimes happened on Coruscant that you doubted anyone would even come at all.

Instead, you steeled yourself and then typed in the code again.

Save for the single lamp you always left on; the apartment was dark. The yellow light bathed the small space in a soft glow that made everything look a little less like a standard-issue Coruscanti apartment and a little more like a home. You quietly dropped your bag by the door, picked up a vase from the entryway and crept into your apartment. It was then you heard the shower running and the soft hum of a smokey tenor echo through the apartment. Your shoulders instantly relaxed.

There was only one person who would break into your apartment and take a shower.

You placed the vase down on the kitchen bench, a smile biting the corners of your mouth as you walked to your small ensuite bathroom, the humming getting louder. Your smile only got wider when you saw his armour stacked neatly next to the dresser. You could hear the hum louder from here, and your heart squeezed itself against your ribs. He was happy.

You opened the door slowly, knocking softly even though he would sense you were there as soon as the door opened. “Hunter?”

The humming stopped and Hunter’s wet head poked around the shower curtain. If he was a sight when he was dry, he was completely ethereal when wet. His hair stuck around his shoulders and neck, water dripping down his tattooed face onto his neck. He smiled out the side of his mouth, eyes bright at the sight of you. “Hey, you.”

You grinned, just as pleased to see him. “Hey. You’re back.”

“I am.”

You nodded to the steaming shower. “Can I join you?”

He wordlessly pulled back the shower curtain as his answer, revealing half of his bare muscular body. You undressed quickly, piling your clothes on top of his blacks that had been kicked near the privy before stepping in with him. Almost instantly, you were engulfed in Hunter’s arms, his wet body pressed against yours as he pushed his nose into your neck, breathing deeply.

“Someone missed me,” you smiled, hands holding his upper arms and squeezing them gently.

You felt his breath on your neck as he nuzzled his nose against your skin. It was always the first thing he did when he saw you. “You have no idea how much,” the words buzzing against your skin.

At the feel of his half-hard length pressed into your stomach, and you chuckled. “I think I can guess.”

Hunter trailed his hands down your body, nose still buried in your neck. He loved the way you smelled. Something about it drove him crazy, though you weren’t sure what it was specifically. But you’d never complain.

You felt him pull you closer, and his wet hair fell onto your shoulder as he dragged his hands up and down your thighs and hips. The water cascaded over you both, and when his hand dipped between your bodies down to the place between your legs, you tipped your head forward to rest on his shoulder as you moaned. “Hunter,” you choked out as his hand moved in slow circles there, and you felt yourself slicken at the touch.

Hunter pressed light kisses to your neck and shoulder, marking a trail up to your ear with his lips. “Been waiting for you to get back.” His voice was ragged like he’d been running, rasping out of him all breathy.

His fingers still moved slowly between you, and you whimpered before telling him quietly. “I thought someone had broken in.”

Hunter pulled back to look at you, his hand stilling as he searched your face with a crease between his brow. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sorry, cyari’ka, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and looked in his brown-grey eyes as steam continued to rise from the running water. “I heard a loud groan…what were you doing?”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth lifted before those eyes of his darkened. “What do you think?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

You hummed. The idea of him getting off in your shower as he waited for you to come home conjured up so many salacious images in your mind you had to squeeze his arms to steady yourself. The thought of him in here, cock in his hand as he stroked himself to just your scent…it only made the arousal building inside you burn hotter.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” You croaked out.

“Kriff, no. As soon as I stepped inside you were everywhere,” he continued his kisses, sucking at your jaw. “And it only got stronger. Every breath I took you were there, inside my lungs, seeping into my skin. You know how insane you make me, and it’s been months…” He drew back and brushed his nose against yours. “Are you mad?”

“God, no,” you breathed against his lips.

“Good.”

Hunter finally kisses your mouth then. His mouth slants over yours and it’s impossible not to moan into it. His tongue moves over your lips and slides against yours. To think when you met him, he had no idea how to kiss and now he knew the inside of your mouth better than you did.

He groaned into the kiss, and you knew his senses were in overdrive right now, the hot wet of your mouth only driving him crazier. He pushed you back against the tile, his solid body trapping you between the cool of the tile and the heat of his skin. His hands gripped your hips as you snaked one leg around his. With his now hard length pressing between you, it was so close to where you needed it. You arched into him, the need to have him as close as humanly possible so intense you could comprehend nothing but Hunter’s kisses and hands as he did everything he could to consume every part of you. Your only thought was how badly you wanted him to.

You had missed him too, after all.

Your hands went into his hair, tugging at the wet strands as he continued to explore your mouth. He broke away but only to resume his kisses down your neck, his tongue lolling out to lick the skin and the droplets of water in between the kisses. Steam from the water clouded your vision, or was that because of the sensation of Hunter’s hands against you? You didn’t know. You moaned as his kisses travelled down your torso.

“Hunter,” you choked out as you watched him lower to his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much,” he said again, the words vibrating against your skin.

You caressed his temple with your thumb. “I missed you.”

He groaned loudly against the skin of your stomach. “You smell incredible.”

You whimpered, so incredibly turned on as he moved his mouth down, his lips dragging across your skin, and you watched him descend lower, his eyes half closed and rolling back. You could see just how hard he was, up against his stomach. The water continued to flow down his shoulders and half-tattooed torso, down into the hair that covered most of his front.

You raked your fingers through his hair, nails against his scalp and you felt his moan on your stomach, and the sound ignited your insides with desire. It felt like your whole body was electrified, pulsing with need and he’d barely even done anything.

“Hunter, more, please,” you breathed out.

Hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He groaned, standing up and shutting the water off as he kissed you once more. He pulled back, sliding the shower curtain roughly across its pole before picking you up effortlessly. Your arms and legs went around him as he buried his nose in your neck again as he walked to your bed, both of you still dripping wet but neither of you caring enough to do anything about it.

Hunter lay you down gently, moving you up to the pillows as he climbed on top of you. His hair fell forward, dripping onto your chest and he leaned down to suck the droplets off your skin.

You moaned as his mouth travelled to your neck again, kissing you there, his lips sucking gently, and you knew there would be a nice mark there tomorrow that you would grumble about trying to cover for work. But right now, the idea of him laying a claim to you made every nerve ending in your body tingle, especially the ones between your legs.

His lips then made their way to your chest, and he moved to one breast, taking the nipple between his teeth, making you whine before he circled his tongue around it, sucking gently. Your back arched off the bed and you felt his hand slide underneath you, between your shoulder blades, drawing you into his mouth more. He sucked gently, then moved on to the other one, repeating the same ministrations with his tongue.

You panted, mewling with every pinch of his teeth grazing your nipple. He was taking his time with you, as usual, savouring every single part of you. You knew he’d be tired after spending months completing gruelling missions, but he was still eager to pleasure you slowly, work you up until you were begging for a release only he could give.

Exhausted, but never for you.

He released your breast, wetness from his mouth glistening the peak in the dim light. He continued down once again, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he lowered himself between your legs.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with want before he sat back on his heels to spread your legs a little wider, holding the inside of your thighs down with his hands. His thumbs circled the soft skin there as he gazed at you all spread out for him.

He looked beautiful like his. His brown skin illuminated only by the light that managed to creep through the blinds, his tattoo etched down one side of his body which still shined with the water from the shower. His cock was so hard with need, precum already pooling at the tip – you’ve barely even touched him. He was just worked up over touching you, breathing you in. He was average in length, but his thickness set him apart from any other sexual partner you’ve had. You ached to feel it inside you, but if he was taking his sweet time with you, it would be a while before you felt him stretch you.

Hunter was nothing if not thorough.

“Hunter…” you whined, sitting up on your elbows.

“Look so pretty like this,” he told you, not an ounce of insincerity in his tone as he crept down to his elbows, arms wrapping under and around your thighs as he pushed his nose against your centre. He breathed in deeply, and the groan that erupted from the back of his throat buzzed against your core.

“So good…” he murmured as he pushed his nose against your clit, making you jerk. He placed a kiss there before gently bringing it into his mouth to suck. You cry out, hips bucking up into his nose and he moans again before his mouth finally moves over you completely.

You arch your back off the bed as his tongue moves artfully against you. The sensation continued to stoke the fire that had been building the minute he wrapped his arms around you in the shower. You moved your hands to his hair, clutching the roots with your fingers and pushing him closer as he licked and sucked like a man starved. And in a way he was. Your hand was no substitute for this. He licked a line up, before bringing his lips around the bud again and sucking gently. You couldn’t think about anything but his hot mouth and tongue against you. You ground into his mouth, needing more friction as the pleasure began to build in your belly, coiling in hot spirals as Hunter continued. He groaned into you through his ministrations, and when he felt you clench on his tongue, he pulled you impossibly closer to his mouth as he moved his tongue faster. Your breaths filled the room, pants loud and moans echoing in the space. You could feel the mattress move underneath you and you looked down at him with hooded eyes to see him rutting against the mattress, getting off to the pleasure he was giving you.

“Hunter, please, I’m so—” Your words were barely audible, but Hunter knew what you meant as he pressed his tongue harder against you, bringing your clit into his mouth and sucking one more time, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, the band inside you snapping as pleasure erupted.

Your back arched and you cried out his name like it was an incantation, over and over as he continued to move his tongue through your undoing, groaning against you as you came all over his tongue. Your hands tight in his hair, you tugged as you shuddered underneath him until the tremors slowed, and you lay breathless, limbs heavy. You looked down at him as he emerged from between your legs, mouth glistening with your come, coating his lips and chin. He licked his lips and groaned. The sight of it was so obscene you felt your body flush.

“Good girl,” he told you before he climbed over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth and you moaned at the way his fingers briefly dipped inside you. “So good for me,” he told you against your lips. “Always so good.”

“Need you inside me,” you mumbled back.

Hunter groaned and you watched as he drew back to lean on his heels again, using the fingers he’d just brushed through your folds to lubricate his length. He hissed as he circled the tip and down the shaft before he coated his fingers again and slid them in his mouth, sucking them gently with his eyes closed, savouring the taste. You watched him, mesmerised.

Was this man really yours?

He positioned himself at your entrance, holding himself above you with strong arms, face over yours. His eyes were so intense, their brown-grey colour boring into you. He gave you a look, one that differed from the wanting gaze he’d been giving you. This look was one of tenderness, one that asked if you were still good – still okay with this. You nodded and he pressed his lips against yours once more before he eased himself inside you.

You gasped as you stretched around him, clawing at his shoulders as you locked your legs around his. He groaned as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He caught his breath and when you clenched around him, he made a choking sound, swearing.

“Been too long,” he whispered.

“Too long,” you repeated before he drew himself back out slowly. He pushed his nose into your shoulder again as he groaned loudly. Then he slowly began thrusting, the sounds of your moans and groans filling the room, along with the indecent sound of his skin hitting yours as his movements increased in speed.

“Hunter,” you moaned his name, and he groaned in response. His hands found your hips and he adjusted his position so he could reach deeper, and he continued to roll his hips against you, your hands clutching at his forearms as the headboard hit the wall repeatedly.

Sex with Hunter always felt amazing. Full of the kind of passion that almost didn’t feel real. It was full of moans and groans and tantalising touches that built you up and up so when you finally let go, the fall felt so good it was almost immeasurable. It was filled with kisses and though he wasn’t much of a talker, he would whisper how good you felt against him. No matter how rough he was being, you felt safe in his hands and cared for – he made sure of that. Being in the throes of pleasure with Hunter was an all-consuming feeling for you both, one that you relished whenever you got the chance. His time home was so fleeting, that anything you could both do to tell each other how much you missed the other, how much you loved the other, you would do. Later, you would use your words. But right now, your bodies spoke instead; each press, clench, shudder, whimper, and groan said the words for you both.

You could feel those familiar hot coils building again each time he buried himself in you, and you could feel his movements falter slightly as he came closer to his own release. He’d come up from your neck again and you looked up at him, mouth agape as his hair, now half dry, fell over his handsome face and the curled ends tickled your cheeks. You reached up and placed some behind his ear, hand cupping his jaw.

“Hunter—”

Hunter nodded quickly, eyes dark and pupils blown. “I know.”

Of course, he did. His senses were so in tune with your body he could feel the subtle changes of your arousal and smell the way your body was on the precipice of falling.

Hunter’s hands held your hips and the headboard, and he rocked himself into you, faster this time. He panted, a husky noise from the back of his throat sounding with each thrust as he brought you closer. You rasped out a string of yeses as the sensation that had been building rose to its peak. You locked your legs around his thighs, clawing at his back as you clenched hard around him, crying out.

Your back arched into him, fingernails forming crescent moon carvings in the skin of his arms as you shuddered against him. His name fell from your lips as you writhed underneath him, riding out your orgasm as he continued to sink into you on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, cyare,” you whispered to him as you were still trembling. "Still got my implant."

It wasn’t a second later until he gave a ragged cry as he stilled, spilling inside you. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth gritted as he groaned loudly – the way you had heard him through the apartment door before. Half collapsing on top of you, he pushed his face into your shoulder again, this time biting the skin there as his thrusts became languid, drawing out as much of his release as possible. You hissed as his teeth claimed your skin, but no matter how worked up Hunter was, he always made sure his bites weren’t too hard.

When Hunter’s shudders stopped, both of you caught your breath. You could feel his breath tickle your shoulder, and this was the first time since you’d been home that you registered the familiar musky smell of his skin. You smiled and kissed his shoulder while he was still on top of you, the tangy taste of his sweat on your lips.

Hunter slowly emerged from your shoulder and looked down at you, eyelids heavy and hair all tangled. You smiled, still dazed, and reached up to push it out of his face, tucking it behind his ear again. He smiled warmly at you before kissing the inside of your wrist.

He hissed as he pulled out of you, and the loss of him down there was so prominent you felt an ache. Hunter rolled off you and lay beside you on his stomach for a minute, his eyes drooping shut for a moment before he forced them open again.

“Hang on,” he said and kissed your shoulder lightly before pushing himself up and heading into the bathroom. You giggled as you heard the cupboard door open and shut before the tap turned on. You turned on your side, still half-limp, watching him wet a towel and then re-enter the room.

He sat next to you as he wiped between your legs sleepily, the warm towel a gentle caress on your skin before he placed it on the bedside table and lay down next to you.

You smiled and pulled the covers back so you could get under them together. They were damp from your hasty decision to not dry off beforehand, but they would dry as you slept. You watched as Hunter nestled himself in the mattress, eyes closing, but when you didn’t move closer to him immediately, he peeked an eye open. He reached out to you under the covers, with a frown.

“Come,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I did. Twice,” you smirked as you let his hands circle your arms and pull you in closer.

“Shuddup,” he slurred, but he still smiled, kissing your temple as he tucked you against his chest. You breathed in the scent of him as you rested your head on him.

You chuckled. “You smell like me.”

“Good. Need to smell like you forever,” he pushed his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath in. “What is the name of this soap, anyway? Gonna place an order.”

You laughed. You loved he was like this – all soft and sleepy after you’d come together. It was a side only you saw, the shedding of that broody exterior he reserved for his service to reveal the tenderness that was a secret for your eyes only. “I think it’s generic brand vanilla and starflower.”

“Smells fucking incredible,” Hunter mumbled, making you laugh again. You kissed his chest and after a moment of silence where all you did was breathe together, he said, “You okay? I didn’t plan to do all that the second I saw you.”

You smiled. No matter how exhausted he was, he always had to check in with you.

“I’m really, really okay, Hunter,” you told him. “There are worse ways to be greeted upon returning home.”

“I at least wanted one conversation with you before I had my way with you,” Hunter murmured in your skin, kissing your shoulder again, this time where he had bitten you, his lips soothing the slight ache there.

“Talking is overrated,” you joked with a shrug, snuggling into his chest. You felt it thrum with a deep chuckle. He knew you loved to hear him talk.

“Tomorrow, we can talk. I have so much to tell you,” he breathed, lips brushing your temple.

You smiled. “Me too. Tomorrow.” You patted his chest gently. “Sleep now, cyare. I know you’re exhausted.”

Hunter hummed, on the cusp of slumber. “Tomorrow.” You felt his body relax. “Love you, cyare,” he mumbled into your hair.

You heard his breathing become deep and even, his chest rising and falling, his heartbeat steady against your palms. You smiled, closing your eyes. “Love you more.”

banner art by @vimse thank you for reading! <3 again, this is my first time writing a full smut scene like this so feedback (delivered kindly) is really appreciated!!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook

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[sayoneee]

☆ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE

percy jackson is a nuisance. a nuisance you have always been fond of, some way, somehow. (5.6k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader. post tlo (spoilers). kind of melancholy but it gets better (kind of). book percy.

kashaf’s note: guess whos alive!

TO QUESTION, to ponder, to seek out the gods is sacrilegious. the gods preferred their divinity to be kept strictly within the confines of worship — whether by completing their ‘menial’ tasks or by committing sacrifices, they, in their infinite wisdom, are not allowed to be objected to. 

“so, my mom’s a god? of love?” 

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, and mentally counted to three. opening your eyes, you make eye contact with the newest addition to camp, and your newest responsibility. bruised and scuffed, the poor kid blinks back at you confusedly as you mull your options. “yes, and no,” you decide.

“our mom’s a goddess, and love is just the most common of her jurisdictions.” 

the new camper looks around the cabin, taking it in, you follow their gaze, lingering on the painted swans on the wall behind you, and bouncing to the pearls adorning the vanity, littered with various seashell trays holding gold jewelry (the first time you had entered these very walls, your throat had tightened at the pure ostentatiousness of it all).

they glance back at you, confused. you sighed again, “yes, our mom is the goddess of love.”

“oh.”

the candles residing in conches flicker as if waiting to pass judgment, and silence blankets you and the new camper once more (this is potentially your fiftieth time attempting to explain the same concept, yet you’re no better at it than when you first started — shaking and solemn). 

needless to say, it’s more than just difficult to explain this tacit rule to new campers — after whatever tragic event transpired for them to realize that the greek gods of myth and legend indeed exist, they simply don’t have the mental capacity to learn the unspoken rules of the whole being a demigod thing.

you could be warmer, somehow, you suppose, with your mother being the goddess of love and all — in all honesty, you’re still not sure how you became the aphrodite cabin counselor, over selina (the entirety of camp half-blood’s favorite daughter of aphrodite) but the counselorship would have ended up in your hands anyway, after everything (the sight of her once-beautiful face as she coughed up blood in clarisse’s lap swims across your memories). 

you pinched the bridge of your nose again, sighing as the candles snuffed out all at once of their own accord (judgment has been passed), “take the empty bed in the corner, we get up at like the ass crack of dawn so you might wanna catch up on your sleep.”

you watched the kid sit on the bed (looking every bit out of place as you did when you first arrived amidst the sheer indulgence the cabin is), and you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest as the child (the entire camp is full of children, but the vast majority of you have never gotten the chance to be the children that you are) stared wide-eyed at posters of movie stars, like tristan mclean, adorning the walls.

with one last glance and forlorn smile at the kid, you walked out of your cabin, your expression hardening at the sight of other campers. the walk to the arena is a short yet bleak one, in the silence you can hear drew’s screaming ringing in your ear (drew is preferable to hearing your other half-siblings, ethan, or even luke; drew is alive).

in the middle of the sword-fighting lesson being taught, you slipped into the arena, undetected for the most part except for the pair of sea-green eyes trained on your figure as you came and stood next to him, clearly hanging back.

“this is usually your shit, jackson,” you say, ignoring how pitiful your racing heart is, and watching clarisse at the helm, steam blowing out of her ears as new campers fell over themselves trying to parry and block with wooden swords.

percy turns to look at you, and from the corner of your eye, you can sense the storm brewing across his face. “maybe i’m not the attention whore you think i am,” he snorts, and there is a small trace of bile in his voice, but you don’t focus on that.

instead, your face burns at the memory of your last argument after you dove in front of ethan’s knife (you still wince when you remember the way his visible eye widened when he realized it was you who caught the blow), and percy’s bitterness as will patched you up, what the fuck is wrong with you, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.

and your weak but indignant reply, i literally saved your life, asshole. are you that much of an attention-whore that you need to be the one on their deathbed right now?

“i’d say you kind of are,” you say, turning to meet his gaze (for a brief, stupid, second you wonder if somehow he was a son of zeus because of how the air suddenly became charged with electricity), arms folding across your chest. “the whole making the gods pay child support is a bit attention-whore-esque.”

percy laughed, a sound you and the other campers haven’t heard in a while (it’s different from before but it is still a sound that in your weaker moments, you admit to craving to hear). “someone had to do it,” he says, sobering up immediately.

“luke tried,” you whispered (the name is still taboo around camp), shivering as you felt percy stiffen beside you. a beat passes and the resulting silence is suffocating.

percy offers you a sad, tight smile before walking out of the arena. you watch him go with a strange pain in your chest and a longing for the before, the laughter leaping across the sun-drenched strawberry fields, the joking i told you so’s during meals, and the softness of the campfire sing-a-longs.

it’s hard not to blame the gods, for that is blasphemy, but on most nights, you find yourself uttering your mother’s name with a tangible acidity, and you find that you’re not alone in this sentiment. the once-reverent echoes of aphrodite, promise me true love, promise me victory, promise me beauty, have now faded to lifeless whispers — formalities instead of prayers. 

even your own prayers are different now, you pray for the sea — if your mother is allowed to be ambiguous with her gifts (curses) then she must expect the same ambiguity in your prayers in return. when you’re done half-heartedly muttering your prayers and sacrificing your food, your gaze meets a familiar pair of sea-green eyes across the campfire, glowing like a beacon in the dark. 

standing up, you find drew, looking every bit as perfect as ever. you lean down to whisper, “lights out at eleven, i’ll be back.” 

drew nods, squeezing your hand before she begins herding the rest of your half-siblings back to your cabin, solemn and toneless (an empty shell compared to the once vibrant and snarky drew from before).

the walk to the beach is silent, although you know that you’re being followed — you didn’t survive the war being complacent. when you finally do arrive, the mysterious figure reveals himself in the moonlight (again, you’d be a fool to not recognize the son of poseidon’s careful footsteps).

percy looks every bit of a character straight out of a tragic romance novel that your mother probably inspired, and again your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him — under the scars and the jaded attitude, he is still the same percy jackson with stars in his eyes when he first introduced you to his mother. 

“why do the naiads call you that?” percy asks abruptly, tilting his head to the side as if studying you as he approaches.

barely audible accusations of apatu’ria bubble at the surface of the lake like seafoam; the whispers have followed you since you arrived at camp, and you have never known why.

“call me what?” you ask, feigning ignorance as iterations of deceitful replay across your mind.

percy blinks, confused, “isn’t your mother related to the sea somehow? don’t you know they call you apatu’ria?”

you fiddle with the gold bracelet on your wrist (a gift from selina), percy’s gaze follows the movement as you hesitate. “well, yeah, like i know what it means but i don’t know why they call me that.”

percy shrugged, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “they call me ‘prosklystios’ a lot,” he said (in the way that he knows you, better than you know yourself).  

“so what, we’re just reduced to epithets of our parents? what an honor,” you mumbled sarcastically, staring out at the lake, watching its surface ripple as the accusations grew more fervent. you paid it no mind however, the burden of being a daughter of aphrodite had already claimed its weight on your shoulders. 

“careful,” percy sighed, his gaze focusing on you instead of the water, “might’ve just won a war but that won’t stop either of us from being smited if big guy in the sky thinks we’re being impertinent.”

distant thunder rumbled overhead as if proving his point.

“speak for yourself, pretty boy,” you say, eyes looking toward the firmament littered with stars, incognizant of your admission, “if i got the gods to basically pay child support without being sent to tartarus, i would do whatever the fuck i wanted.”

percy being percy, of course, did not register that last bit of your sentence, a shit-eating grin forming across his face, a slight red hue tinging his cheeks, “you think i’m pretty.”

you turn to look at him, ignoring how your heart hammers at the way he’s smiling down at you, you roll your eyes. “percy,” you say slowly. “my mom is the goddess of love, everyone’s gorgeous in her eyes.”

“yeah, but not everyone’s gorgeous in your eyes.” 

gods, he was so aggravating but the way his eyes twinkled and the genuine elation on his face almost made you admit defeat. 

you crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him, “this is why i never compliment you, you always let it go to your head.”

“aw, c’mon, you love me for it though,” percy says, still grinning widely, his unruly black hair falling into place perfectly.

“you’re an actual attention-whore,” you say, spinning around on your heels and trekking across the sand, leaving percy alone to stare out at the water. you walk back to camp, ignoring percy’s calls of wait punctuated by his laughter as he jogs up behind you. 

“i hope mr. d catches you out past curfew and the harpies eat you,” you say deadpan, once percy has caught up to you. 

“you’d miss me too much and would come to be my hero, again,” percy smirks at you, following along as you head toward aphrodite cabin (you’re secretly very glad for his presence, you hate walking around camp when it’s this deserted — the memories that you tried so desperately to bury try to claw their way to the surface).

“just because i caught a knife for you, once, does not mean that i’ll ever do it again,” you say, folding your arms across your chest as you stand outside the door of your cabin. “getting stabbed is not a ten out of ten experience.”

percy softens, his impish grin still there, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make you melt, “good, can’t have you dying on me.”

you snorted, “even if i did die, i’d tell nico to raise my ghost so i could haunt you forever.”

percy’s still smiling, his eyes are still soft, and he’s so close to you right now. “go out with me,” he says, suddenly, earnestly.

blood rushes to your ears. “what?” you blinked, staring at him as if he’d grown another head.

percy shrugged, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. you barely registered the action in your mind, trying to regain your ability to form coherent sentences as you watched him. percy looked away from your questioning gaze. “better go before the harpies eat me,” he said before jogging in the direction of his cabin. 

he leaves you standing in front of your cabin door, frozen in shock for another five minutes, before you shake it off, and head inside, convincing yourself that you had imagined the entire encounter. the familiar scent of jasmine envelops you as you linger in the doorway. drew is still awake on her bed, her back pressed against the wall and her head in her arms. she doesn’t bother to look up at your entry until you’re sat next to her, curling an arm around her bony shoulders and pulling her into an embrace. 

the two of you sit in silence as drew attempts to calm her heartbeats to sync with yours, her head resting on your shoulder as you rub soothing circles into the planes of her shoulder. you fall asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, a desperate attempt to close the gaping hole selina left in her wake. this is sisterhood, you think when you wake up and drew’s head weighs like lead on your shoulder.

the bright morning does little to assuage your burdens — you know it’s going to be a long day as soon as you hear campers giggling. rule number one of being a camp counselor: no matter how benign, giggling is the number one sign of trouble.

you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before turning to the younger half of your half-siblings currently in the process of attempting arts and crafts. “what the fuck do you guys keep giggling about?”

your half-siblings only giggle harder. 

after what seemed like eons, the new camper finally comes up to you — a kid no older than eight, who motions for you to bend down before they begin stage-whispering in your ear, “is percy jackson your boyfriend?”

you immediately feel scandalized, jerking away like you’ve been burned, “no, who said that?”

(when you’re being lulled to sleep by the sound of drew’s imperceptible snoring in your ear, your subconscious spends its time lingering, dwelling on could’ve been’s, and should’ve been’s, the obsession as stubborn as when you refused to believe that percy had actually died on mount st helens.)

the kid continues to smile ‘innocently’, “everyone says that you guys hold hands at campfires.”

sudden flashes of percy’s unyielding grip on your hand and his broad smile, as he forced you into a sing-a-long with him, rise to the forefront of your mind, but that was before — when annabeth still had a steely look in her eyes, when travis and connor’s antics still garnered laughs from everyone (and a rare amused glance from mr. d). now (the after), there is no such jocularity, and percy is kept at arm’s length, reduced to offering you sad smiles across the campfire.

“we do not hold hands at campfires,” you say, struggling to keep the disdain out of your voice.

“but there’s a ‘we’,” the kid says, scrutinizing you up and down.

you have to mentally count to three so that you don’t end up arguing with a literal child (it’s not a great way to prove that your sanctity is still intact). “there’s no we.”

the kid shrugs in an if you say so gesture, giving you one last weirdly knowing look before turning back to their arts and crafts. a weighty silence settles, punctuated only by the sounds of scissors and rustling papers. 

stares and loud whispers follow you around camp, more so than usual for an aphrodite kid — clarisse finds you in the midst of it all, lost in thought when her cabin is supposed to be pulverizing apollo cabin at volleyball, a sharp glint in her eye. 

“you’d tell if me you were dating prissy, right?” she says, her hand faintly closing around your elbow, pulling you out of your reverie. 

“what are you talking about?” you say, eyebrows raising in shock. this wasn’t your first rodeo — just before the war this summer, camp gossip had credited you to be going out with connor stoll, but this was different. clarisse was the fifth person today who had asked you if you were dating percy. 

“so you are dating him?” clarisse looks offended, or well, as offended as clarisse can be, “and you didn’t tell me.”

you can feel eyes on you, watching your every move as other campers subtly pause their activities to listen in. 

“clarisse,” you say slowly, reaching out to hold her forearms and looking her in the eye, “i’m not dating percy.” when she opens her mouth to interrupt, you add, “and i would definitely tell you if i was.”

clarisse exhales, shooting you a disbelieving look, but mercifully leaving you alone with a quiet, “okay.”

you know what she’s thinking, so you offer her a taut smile, patting her on her shoulder as you brush past her. you headed toward the lake, with a feeling that you’d find the answers you were searching for.

the lake is empty except for one solitary figure on the sand, facing the horizon with his hands in his pockets. you hang back for a minute or two, taking in the sight of percy with his eyes closed, and the peaceful look on his face. 

a grin settled across his face as he addressed you, his eyes still closed, “i know you think i’m pretty, you don’t have to stare to prove it.”

you ignored his words, and he opened his eyes to watch you angrily march across the sand to stand face to face with him. 

“are you the reason why everyone thinks we’re seeing each other?”

“yeah, why?”

to say that you’re taken aback is an understatement — you had anticipated some more denial but this was unexpected. and sudden.  

you jab a finger at his chest, “everyone’s getting the wrong idea, so you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing like right now.”

“but they could have the right idea,” percy says, looking amused.

your heart scrapes painfully against your chest, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“we could be dating, forreal,” percy says, excruciatingly slow, elongating each word. 

the earth stops spinning on its axis for a minute, and time seems to freeze — for a split second you worry kronos has risen again before you calm your racing heartbeat and exhale slowly.

“i need you to be so forreal right now,” you say, your eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m being so deadass right now.” 

“no, you’re not,” you say, turning and walking away. your heart squeezes pitifully in your chest, as you call out, “find me when you stop joking,” before leaving him alone on the shore.

when percy approaches you again, you think he’s finally come back to his senses, though a weaker, more primitive urge inside you hopes that he hasn’t (it’s for the better, you try and fail to convince yourself).

he interrupts your conversation with drew (though the two of you weren’t doing much talking), smiling charmingly at her before asking if he could steal you away for a minute during breakfast. drew shot you a concerned look, waiting for your reassuring smile before assenting.

“you’ve come to your senses?” you ask after percy leads you away from the mess hall.

“i’ve always had my senses, thank you very much,” percy grins.

you roll your eyes, trying not to smile, “oh yeah, i could totally tell when you played rock, paper, scissors with a hundred-handed one last summer.”

“hey,” percy says, throwing his hands up in the air defensively, “i won that one.”

“on a gamble,” you countered, smiling (you missed this, missed him, and the feeling that everything will be alright enduring).

“not the point.”

“then what is?”

“go out with me,” he repeats, sudden, and earnest.

your heart stuttered pitifully. “not this again,” you sighed.

“why not?” 

“why?”

“you know why,” percy tries to make eye contact with you. still, you avoid his gaze, watching the other campers heading into the mess hall give the two of you weird looks. 

“no, i don’t,” you say firmly, before walking away, ignoring his protests, leaving behind a group of onlookers that you could care less about, and percy, who was staring at the spot you had just been standing in.

you returned to your cabin, to the familiar jasmine scent and pearl adornments, and promptly collapsed on your bed. more than anything, you just wanted your mother. you wanted your mother to smooth out your hair as you cried, offer you advice, and get rid of the stupid curse.

the door opens quietly and you immediately sit up, dabbing at your face and hoping that your eyes haven’t turned red and swollen already. drew shut the door gently behind her, her expression softening the slightest fraction at the sight of you.

“do i look that bad?” you ask, trying not to sniffle (and failing miserably).

a whirlwind of emotions cross drew’s face and you manage a watery grin. “okay, y’know what, don’t tell me then.”

drew sits next to you on the bed, handing you a box of tissues, “wasn’t planning to.” 

the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder as she lets you have a minute to clean up before going straight for the jugular. “i heard what happened.”

you laughed, a choking noise that dissolved into weak coughing. drew patted your back. “so, the entire camp knows now?”

“no,” she says, before changing her mind, “well, yeah.” 

“great,” you groaned, “my life is so over.”

drew tensed, tearing her gaze from the posters of hot people on the wall, to look at you, her brown eyes ablaze with fury and her silver earrings (also a gift from silena) jangle, “shut up, you’re the senior counselor of aphrodite cabin, and they’re all losers unworthy of your time. your life so isn’t over.”

(this is the drew from before, the drew that comes and goes in flashes so sudden that you try to piece her together like a puzzle that never seems to connect.)

“the curse,” you say, your throat tight. 

drew’s eyes widen imperceptibly, her blue eyeshadow sparkling in the candlelit cabin, before her expression settles into a scowl. “what about the gift?” her voice sharpens as she stresses the last word, sparing the smallest glance toward the roof of the cabin.

you can’t continue, and you don’t have to — she knows what it is that you’re thinking of (she always has, from the minute you met her, two cold and shaking children alone in the dark).

she shakes her head emphatically. “silena,” her voice chokes, before dropping to a whisper, “silena left us — you can’t leave us too.”

“i know,” you whisper back, your eyes filling with tears. “i know.”

“oh, honey,” drew says sympathetically, drawing you into her arms, and smoothing your hair away from your face as you let out a sob against her shoulder. “break his heart,” she says. 

“i can’t,” you mumble.

“you have to. he’ll die if you don’t, and a broken heart is better than dying.”

“i can’t do that to him, he’s so unbelievably good, drew, he deserves everything and more.”

“ignoring how ridiculously sappy that sounded, look at what happened to beckendorf,” you pretend not to notice how drew stumbles through his name (he looked at silena as if she had personally hung the stars in the night sky), “maybe he wouldn’t have gotten over it, but he would’ve been alive.”

you remember how silena had proudly said she was going to put an end to the archaic rite of passage your cabin was infamous for around camp; beautiful, idealistic silena with stars in her eyes (who liked beckendorf to the point she’d blush profusely at the mention of his name), who had no idea that this would all come crashing down around her some short months later. 

at your silence, drew continues, still stroking your hair, “look, not to make this harder, but even i’ll admit jackson’s one of those guys you meet once in a lifetime—”

“thanks, drew, that was really helpful,” you interrupt, chuckling dryly.

“oh, shut up, i had a point,” drew says, swatting your shoulder playfully.

you sigh, letting her continue.

“so, like i was saying before i was so rudely interrupted, because jackson’s one of those once-in-a-lifetime type of guys—” here, you coughed pointedly, making drew glare at you before continuing, “—you should be like more willing to see him happy and like living a long ass life because you’re so in love with him.”

“so what, either i reject him and ruin our friendship irreversibly or we date and i break his heart and ruin our friendship irreversibly, or we date and i don’t break his heart and he dies tragically and there’s a possibility that i die tragically too?”

drew shrugged, making a tiny braid in your hair, “pretty much.”

you turned your head in her lap to look her in the eye, “how are you so apathetic about this?”

“someone has to be because you’re not thinking this through rationally.”

you groaned, “aphrodite has to hate us.” (you haven’t called her ‘mom’ genuinely except to her face during the winter solstices.)

“no, she lives for this kind of thing,” drew rolled her eyes, braiding another piece of your hair, “she definitely thinks she’s doing us a favor.”

you groaned again, “what if i just avoid him until summer ends and he goes back to school and forgets this happened.”

“i didn’t think love made you this stupid,” drew says, amused.

“shut up, i can’t wait until you have the same dilemma, and you’re the one asking for advice.”

“doubt it,” drew says, wryly.

you rolled your eyes, “okay, but what if i tell him about the ‘gift’,” you make air-quotes, “and let him decide?”

“yeah, but what if that just makes it backfire and makes you die tragically either way.”

“well, at least he’ll know about the possibility? it’s better than just being like ‘oh i can’t date you even though i’ve liked you since i was twelve’ with like zero explanation whatsoever.”

you hear muffled footsteps coming from outside of the cabin, and the door swings open loudly to admit lacy, who looks flustered and out of breath. you and drew quickly sprang up off your bed at her arrival.

“your boyfriend’s asking for you,” she says, looking at you.

drew raises her eyebrows at you, an unspoken are you going to see him? behind it. 

you furrowed your eyebrows back at her, conveying no, shut up.

drew shrugged at you as if saying if you say so.

lacy looks between the two of you, confusion apparent before cautiously interrupting, “he’s waiting outside, by the way.”

you panicked at the thought of possibly confronting percy, “lacy, whatever you do, don’t tell him i’m in here.” you paused, “wait, tell him i’m taking a nap or something, please.”

more shuffling noises can be heard from outside, and drew groans, smacking her forehead with her palm, “what is wrong with you?”

you ignored her, focusing on lacy, whose confusion intensified as she looked between the two of you. “tell him i’m sleeping and he should try coming back later.”

she nodded, before opening the door and stepping outside.

drew stared at you, “y’know, i thought people were exaggerating when they said love makes you stupid but after looking at you, they were so right.”

you scowled at drew. she raised her arms in surrender, “just calling it like i see it.”

lacy returned a second later, “um, he wasn’t outside when i went to tell him.”

that was decidedly odd, but you chalked it up to him being busy or something, and shrugged, “i’ll see him later, it’s fine.”

it was actually not fine, because you didn’t see him later. or the next day. or the day after. well, you saw him but you didn’t see him. percy had somehow uncovered a hidden talent for making himself appear everywhere and nowhere all at once. he was there at meals, laughing with tyson or grover, he was at sword fighting practices, leading the class or giving clarisse a partner, he was at campfires, sitting next to annabeth and connor. yet, the minute you tried to approach him, it was almost as if he’d vanish, like an immortal was running interference.

you’ve taken to wandering by the lake on most nights — your only company the voices of silena (go talk to him, her urging is as present as if she was really there, memories of the time the two of you hadn’t been talking for a week resurging) and luke (what’re you doing out this late, kid? a phantom hand reaching out to ruffle your hair, and the feeling of ice being poured down your back envelops you). 

as the sun sets, the tall and lanky figure — a figure you could recognize on the darkest nights — stands overlooking the lake in true jay gatsby fashion, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. you stop and stare for a second (maybe a minute, an hour, time has truly escaped you), and suddenly you’re small and shivering in the dark again. 

percy doesn’t look at you when you approach, though he fidgets with his camp necklace. 

“hi,” you say, unsure of where to begin. 

percy sighs, “look, if you’re here to ask for space, i get it, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable the other day.” he doesn’t turn to look at you or even glance at you through the corner of his eye once. 

“what?” you ask. “what are you talking about?”

“trust me, i get it, you don’t have to try to spare my feelings,” percy says. you want to will him to spare you just a glance. still, he avoids your gaze, focused on the horizon before you. “we’ve been friends for so long, i thought you could be honest with me.”

his words, though not said harshly (percy isn’t capable of being harsh, not to you at least) cut through you like a knife. 

“you heard me when i was talking to lacy, then,” you say, with horror as the realization dawns on you slowly.

percy finally looks at you, and the sheer hurt in his iridescent eyes makes you inhale sharply. a lump forms in your throat.

“i did,” he confirms quietly. “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

fighting in a war hadn’t prepared you for man’s greatest folly, something that you, arguably, should’ve been good at. the lump in your throat is difficult to dislodge, yet percy is patient as you swallow uncomfortably.

“i never meant it like that.”

percy’s eyes flash, and you feel sick to your stomach. “have you ever wondered why so many of the other cabins hate us?”

his previously pained expression morphed into a look of confusion. you continued, “in aphrodite cabin, our rite of passage is to break your first love’s heart. silena—” your voice breaks. “—silena tried to put an end to it, and then both she and beckendorf—” you choke up again, and percy’s expression becomes solemn, “died tragically. we didn’t know the consequences of not doing it were real until then, and we realized it was a curse.”

you watch percy seemingly wrestle with his thoughts, taking a step toward you. 

“why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” there is no judgment in his voice, yet you still feel embarrassment pooling in your stomach.

“can you honestly tell me that you’re okay with this? with the gods dictating another aspect of your life?” (somewhere in the back of your mind, you can hear luke’s voice repeating the same sentence.)

“you didn’t ask for this either.”

“it’s not our job to question them,” you say, trying not to let a tear slip.

“maybe we should,” percy says, still looking straight at you. 

“careful,” you say, as thunder rumbled distantly overhead, “this is what luke was saying.”

“i don’t care,” percy says, “if you or i die a tragic death, we’ll just have to go through tartarus.”

he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that your breath catches in your throat.

“so, you’re okay with this?” you ask, trying to suppress the tinge of hopefulness in your voice.

percy looked at you in disbelief, his face was so earnest, “why wouldn’t i be?”

you laughed, more out of shock than anything else. percy continued, “i think your mother would think we’d make a cute couple, so maybe she won’t curse us with a tragic end.”

you’re grinning now, tears forgotten, “more like she’ll give us a tragic end because she likes us.”

percy shrugged, “i think we’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”

he kissed you, finally, which was long over-due, and you felt like everything was finally falling into place. 

“took you guys long enough.” 

you turned around to find the source of the interruption, making eye-contact with clarisse, her arms folded and a smug expression on her face. beside her stands most of your friends, all adorning matching wicked expressions. your heart stops beating for a second before your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“how much of that did you guys hear?” percy asked, suddenly looking bashful.

“most of it,” drew replied with a smirk.

percy looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face as your friends surrounded the both of you, hoisting you on their shoulders.

“maybe the two of you need to cool off,” annabeth said with a laugh.

connor grinned at her, before calling out, “dump them in the lake!”

you groaned, begging, “annabeth, please.”

“this is payback for all the pining i had to witness over the years,” she said with a laugh.

percy shrugged at you, a grin on his face as if saying accept your fate. you gave in, shaking your head as you laughed at their antics.

[missmeinyourbones]

HOOKED ON HER FLESH

cw: afab!reader, fingering, pussy job, penetrative sex, pet names used (pretty girl, baby, etc), suckin and fuckin in the bath, raw fucking but this is not real so practice safe sex my friends

The click of the front door is dull, and Rintaro can feel the burn in his calves when he bends down to place his gym bag beside the few pairs of tossed shoes by the entryway.

If you were on the couch like he'd half expected you to be, you'd scold him for leaving it there knowing one of you always trips over it. But you're not.

It's late, almost 11 PM when he returns home from a long day of training. The apartment is dim and oddly still when he weakly calls out to address his presence. With still no answer, he makes his way down the dark hallway with nothing but the kitchen light illuminating the space.

The second place he checks is the bedroom.

Weirdly enough, you're not there either. But before he even gets the opportunity to worry, he spots an outline of light shining through the closed bathroom door in his peripheral.

Quietly entering the bathroom, he's not all that surprised to find you sponging in the water, eyes closed and hair carelessly clipped up.

You're not asleep—he can tell by your breathing. He notes the glass of red slightly sipped on as it balances on the back ledge of the toilet.

He leans against the door frame, admiring you while he can before you shy away and refuse to let him. It's somewhat muggy in the room from the steam, and he gathers that you've been marinating for a while based on the drops of sweat beading in your supple creases and cleavage.

When the nippy draft of the open door finally makes its way to you, you crack your eyes open and jump a bit at the unexpected figure in the doorway.

Your face cushions a bit when you realize it's him, "God, you scared me. When did you get home?"

"Just now," he placates, making his way over to kneel beside you at the edge of the tub. That singeing ache returns in his calves, but he doesn't seem to care when he's this close to you, counting the steam droplets adorning your cheeks and eyelashes.

You're heavy with sleep when you reach for him, "How was practice?"

He hums in acknowledgment, letting his thumb trace your jaw in a gentle touch.

"Nothin' special," he shakes his head before smiling a bit at your drowsy murmurs. "Tired, baby?"

You nod along against his hand, "A little, yeah."

Opening your eyes, you admire your lover; he's tired too, the subtle lines of worry and fatigue marking his handsome face. Your eyes flicker to his blunt bangs, damp and sticking to his forehead.

Your fingers find them easily, brushing them off of his eyebrows and causing him to crinkle his nose. "You already showered?"

"Yeah," it's his turn to close his eyes. "Took a quick one before I left. Figured it was easier."

You seem pleased with his answer as you relax further into the water. "Good, 'cause I really didn't wanna have to get out."

He shakes his head in amusement, fingertips gently caressing your eyebrows and lids when he asks, "Why're you even in here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You only take baths if you're like, stressed or something."

"Not really stressed," you breathe, though the sigh entwined in your words betrays your point, "just wanted to relax a bit. Feel like I've been a bit wound up these past few days."

Rintaro nods but bites his tongue. His mind filters through the handful of times you've been a bit snippy with him this week. When he forgot to take out the trash and you called him annoying. When his shower went on just a few minutes too long, leaving the hot water merely lukewarm and you cursing at him. Just this morning, when the two of you were buzzing around the kitchen preparing for your days—he used the last of the milk in his coffee and didn't write it down on the grocery list, resulting in a glare from you and a passive-aggressive nudge towards the notepad on the counter.

As if noting the gears turning in his head, you whisper above the sound of water gently sloshing beneath you as you readjust your legs over the side of the tub.

"I'm sorry I've been kind of a bitch."

Rintaro chuckles and it sounds like love. His tone is light and airy when he squeezes your hand in solidarity, "I like you a little bitchy."

You roll your eyes, though both of you know it's harmless, and a warming silence comfortably overtakes your tiny apartment bathroom.

Rintaro thinks he's subtle, and maybe he is to anyone who isn't you, but you know him, and you know that his tender touches trailing from your hand to your leg are filled with both love and something a bit more desperate.

"So," his hand slowly caresses your damp leg as it dangles outside of the water, "wound up, huh?"

A glare is sent his way but the smiling pulling at your lips encourages him.

"Can I help?" His thumb applies some pressure to your calf, rubbing slow circles to the tender muscle and ears perking up at your soft sighs.

"You don't have to, you're probably tired and—”

He interrupts your weak restraint with a rough whisper against your cold ankle, "I'm never too tired to make you cum, let's get that straight."

He hears you kiss your teeth as his vulgarity, "I'm just saying, I'm okay."

And Rintaro does what he does best, and doesn't take no for an answer.

"Well, what if I want to?" he purrs against your skin, "What about my needs?"

"Your needs of making me cum?" you scoff behind a smirk.

"Exactly."

Sitting up a bit to better see you, he prompts you to uncross your legs with a gentle pry of his hand. You obey and spread yourself against the front of the bath, heels against the sides of the cold ceramic as he slips a sluggish hand between your thighs.

He can feel the slick already forming submerged in the water as he teases an experimental finger through your folds. Taking his sweet time, he brings his thumb to brush against your untouched clit, and grins like a wolf when you whimper and jolt at the slight friction.

You hear Rintaro laugh through his nose. "Yeah, you're okay?" he smugly prompts.

You close your eyes at the feeling, too needy to care about his mocking, "Shut up."

You can't see his smirk but you know it's there all the same. He plays with you without any urgency, mindlessly enjoying rolling your nub between his pointer and thumb, greedily inhaling each and every one of your gasps and mewls.

Once he's pleased with his mess of you, he allows a fingertip to just barely dip inside of your heat. Painfully slow and deliberate, he lets it barely sink into you before it pulls itself out, repeating the movement slowly.

He's fucking with you openly, giving you a sinful taste of the feeling you're addicted to without any actual benefits of it. You know he wants you to break, and you can't even bring yourself to put up a fight with your dwindling restraint slipping through your pruney fingers.

With a prod of his finger that goes just slightly deeper than the rest, you whine in frustration and reach for his arm.

"Rin," your hand wraps around his flexed bicep, to both steady yourself and prompt him to do more.

He ignores your pleas, continuing to give you just enough to squirm and thrash at his repeated actions. He knows your lack of patience at his hand—if he hadn't made you so greedy, you'd just take what he gives you.

But Rintaro learned long ago that he's a weak man when it comes to you. He's always going to give you exactly what you want—he's just going to be annoying about it first.

He lets it continue for a bit longer before you finally whine and dig your nails into his bicep.

"Stop—fucking doing that…need—” your words falter into tiny little whimpers as he continues a steady pulse on your clit.

"Need?" his eyebrows raise in a delight that mimics the devil.

You go to close your legs in instinct, but Rintaro's free hand uses its palm to hold you open. The still water in the bath splashes against your movements as your chest heaves with a need that he's not even close to giving you.

Somewhere between mocking and comforting, he tuts and coos at your frustration. His fingers stay steady as he kisses your neck, licking the sweat mixed with citrus-scented salt from your relaxation.

He taunts, "Gotta use your words, pretty."

"Need you," crawls pathetically from your throat, "you asshole."

Rintaro smiles, baring fangs you're not one hundred percent sure are actually there or not. For once, he says nothing as he finally sinks a full finger into your eager cunt.

You gasp at the pressure and he follows suit, almost mimicking your hiccups and whimpers as if he too feels what you feel. With every exhale of yours, he's unashamed in inhaling the sweet sounds, trying to savor them by tasting them for his own.

One finger turns to two, and time doesn't exist as you're rocking against his palm and losing yourself between the splashing water and his mouth on your neck.

"Look at you," he presses kisses anywhere he can, "my pretty baby."

I'm—fuck," your legs try to jostle shut again but they're unsuccessful as Rintaro continues his pace.

"It's okay," he sweetly mocks your shaky attempts to reach your high. His teeth move to sink into the outside of your thigh when he tells you, "Just relax for me."

Feeling you clench around him in a manner that's far too familiar, he changes his movements in a way he knows gets you there every time. Curling his fingertips upwards and lingering a bit too long against that spongey ribbed spot inside of you, you nearly jump out of the water at the harsh sensation.

Suna laughs, holding you down as your nails sink into his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself.

He continues against your feeble tries, mentally checking all of the boxes for when he knows you're about to lose it. When you get to the babbling nonsense and begging for quite literally nothing stage, he decides it's time.

A gentle kiss prods against your temple, "Talk to me, pretty."

"Feels good—so fucking good, I—” Your back arches and flexes against the water, desperately trying to reach your approaching high.

"You gonna cum for me?" he breathes through a smile.

You can't speak, nodding furiously and mindlessly as you feel yourself reach your peak. The churning inside of you unravels like a wave, and you can feel your hips bucking themselves upwards without meaning to for the sake of release.

Your lover doesn't let up, rubbing and curling and cooing you through your high. You don't even hear him, can barely feel him anymore as he milks you for all he can before giving you a break and moving his loving touches to your legs and neck.

"Feelin' good?" he's out of breath from watching you perform for him.

Between how tired you were before, let alone how hard he'd just fucked you on his fingers, he expects you to be spent. He's undeniably hard—only human, after all—but with the way your eyes can barely stay open, he mentally plans to get you settled in bed before leaving himself quickly and joining you.

But he's never been more willing to be wrong when you whisper against his bicep, planting wet and messy kisses across his skin in an attempt (as if one was even needed) to persuade him.

He can feel you beam against his skin when you mewl and pant, "Think I need the real thing now."

"The real thing?" his voice octaves in a condescending sweetness.

You're pulling at his cloth-covered torso when you groan, "You know what I mean."

"That wasn't real? You left fucking crescents on my wrist—”

"Rin," you cut him off with a groan, looking up at him all teary and needy and so fucking pretty he thinks he could cry. "Please?"

You watch his chest inflate with a sharp inhale as his eyes rake over your malleable form. His tongue skims his canine when he chuckles and shakes his head.

"Fuck you."

He's undressed and on top of you in the water within seconds.

"Condom?" he heaves into your neck, practically swallowing you whole between breathy groans.

He feels you shake your head and he kisses his teeth in aggravation. "What'd I say about words, baby?"

"No," you nearly hiss, before following it up with a velvety, "just wanna feel you this time, please."

Rintaro groans into your chest and subconsciously bucks his hips against you, "Fuck, okay. Okay, baby."

He takes his time when lining himself up with you, letting his pink tip acquaint itself with your puffy folds like it's the first time. He feels a pull inside of him that egnites when he realizes, it's not the first time, and over his dead body will there ever be a last.

He watches beneath the water as his pre-cum smears itself all over your pussy, sticky and webbed as it dissolves under the water. He flicks himself across your clit, tapping heavily against you when you softly cry at the sensitivity. He lets out sounds of amusement at your feeble protests.

"Don't—” you hiccup as he runs his shaft between your folds, "—be a dick."

"Shut up," he quickly kisses your lips, "I got you—"

As he breathes, he unhurriedly sinks himself into you, relishing in the way you both inhale one another at the stretch. Breathing in one another's gasps and shivers, he lets himself ease in and out of you until he's completely bottomed out and pressing his weight onto your abdomen to hear you shiver.

It's all sweaty kisses and desperate licks as you meet his movements, pulling as he pushes and taking everything one another can offer. And it is everything—you'd never give anything less.

You can tell he's slowly losing his composure, but he does a good job of keeping up with his long and intentional strokes. He means to leave no inch of you untouched, wants you to remember the feeling every time he's away and you find your hand snaking its way between your legs.

"I love you," falls from your lips like the wine you neglected from the untouched glass that sits a few feet from you. And Rintaro swallows it greedily, tastes its rich red and white and pink before spewing it right back for you to keep as your own.

His thrusts become more sloppy and frantic as he feels himself reaching the brink of his climax. "I love you, shit—love you, I love you."

He comes in bursts of heat and desperation, and with a few more needy strokes and circles on your clit, you follow suit behind him. Spent and sticky with cramping limbs in your tiny tub, Rintaro coddles you through shaky whimpers and sore muscles.

"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes between kisses, to you or himself, he doesn't think he'll ever know the difference. "My baby."

Touches turn lazy and tender, and breathing is now slow and steady when Rintaro adjusts himself with a groan and sits upwards. He reaches for your unattended wine glass, taking a strong swig and raising his eyebrows in jest when you roll your eyes and laugh at him.

He then holds it to your lips, gently leaning your jaw back as you take a sip of your own. You swear that his eyes have stars in them, and while you don't know it, yours gape the same right back at him.

Sinking into the water on the opposite end of the cramped bathtub, he grabs your leg and hooks it upon his shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss to your ankle before letting his head loll to the side.

"This water's fucking freezing now," he mumbles, eyes closed.

But his spirits lift when he hears you giggle at his declaration, opening his eyes and smiling behind a scowl to catch you lazily tossing your head back in amusement.

"It was nice before you got in," you shrug, rubbing your ankle against his ear just to watch him whine at the motion, "so it must just be you."

Rintaro hums in faux agreement, turning to weakly gnaw on your calf before kissing the crescents indented from his front teeth.

"Keep it up and I'll keep your pruney ass right here all night."

[cumulo-stratus]

Could you do a fic of a reader with chronic pain x Spencer Reid? Please just fluff and maybe angst but obviously it's totally up to you. I've been having a few flare ups recently and it sucks ass.

Maybe Spencer like low key just makes them rest all day even though they want to help out with a case?

Love your writing btw! :)

French press coffee[s.r]

Spencer insist you take a break despite your insistence

WARNINGS- mentions of chronic illness symptoms,

Spencer Reid x gn!reader ][ fluff/hurt comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- The reader is implied to have chronic fatigue, or something similar but let me know if anything is inaccurate!

1.3k

You couldn't hold back a grimace when you finally reached a standing position after much effort. The pain radiated through the rest of your body, making it hard to function, not to mention the fog blanketing your brain. 

But before you could even think about how to deal with the flare up, you dreadedly remembered you had work today. Well you had work (almost) everyday.

This meant walking to the train station with spencer. Then taking the 45 minute train ride, with Spencer. And then you and Spencer could finally get to work, only to then fly to god knows where and profile serial killers.

You internally sighed. You were in for a long day. But you couldn't let Spencer know that- or he would make you stay home from work like the wonderful boyfriend he was.

So you instead crept quietly out the door, wincing when it cracked slightly. As soon as you slipped through the door your shoulders relaxed and you padded into the kitchen to start coffee.

Or at least you tried to, but you were slowed down by the intense ache radiating in waves. Usually the pain was bearable, of course with the help of your accommodations, at home and at work- but not today. When you finally made it to the kitchen counter, you grabbed the kettle and started boiling water for the necessary caffeine.

Just because Spencer will accept any coffee, doesn't mean he isn't the eensiest bit a coffee nerd. He especially had a sweet spot for French press coffee. 

Spencer felt the first sip was just that much more satisfying when you had to work a little bit for it. 

Despite his wet noodle type physicality, he still always pushed his whole weight down on the pump. He would feel it slowly sink under his gaze and he would smile slightly. 

You smiled at this thought as you sank down into one of the chairs sitting around the kitchen table. 

But the smile faded as soon as it had placed itself on your lips when your mind came back to the pain aching through your body and fog coating your mind.

The whistling of the kettle woke Spencer, his face scrunching up at the unpleasant noise. With the hope of finding the source and stopping it. When your sleepy boyfriend broached the kitchen, he found you slightly hunched over the kitchen table in a chair.

but when you heard Spencer come in you stayed hunched until Spencer called your name and you perked up, noticing the boiling pot. 

Spencer noticed your expression flicker when you stood up, and took note of that and the fact that you didn't notice the kettle boiling at first. Spencer could read you like a book, and right then- you were saying you were in pain. Well Spencer had to read between the lines, but he was just as good at that. 

“Good morning my love,” Spencer mumbled into your shoulder, as he had now wrapped his arms around your waist while you poured the steaming water into the large canister. 

you just so conveniently turned around to greet spencer just before you got to the step of pushing down on the pump, spencer took a note of this as well. 

“good morning” but this time the smile actually reached your eyes when you spoke, Spencer always brightening your mood. you even forgot the pain for a brief moment when he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your eyes easily drooping closed. But when he pulled away to finish the coffee, not commenting on your casual avoidance of the physical exertion portion of the process, reality came back harshly. 

You took this opportunity to sit down, closing your eyes and sighing for a moment at being off your feet. Again, Spencer noted this to himself. 

A couple minutes later, he approached you quietly, two mugs in hand. One was black with at least a couple tablespoons of sugar, and the other with just an average amount of cream and sugar. 

Spencer pressed one into your eagerly awaiting hands, and the other onto the table while he put the coffee grounds away.

You could feel your boyfriend watching you carefully ever since he entered. Not only was he a profiler, but so were you. Although both of you knew he was watching, and the other knew, neither said anything. It was like an odd competition of who would bring it up first, you or him.

He won. “How's you feeling today?” Spencer spoke with a casual tone but the question held weight. the weight of the whole morning that had come before.

you smiled weakly as a response and shrugged, saying “ not too bad, i'll just bring my cane,” you tried to sound casual but Spencer could see right through you. 

He threw a knowing look, his eyes holding empathy. You couldn't meet his gaze. “Angel-” Spencer couldn't get the rest of the sentence out before you interrupted firmly. “No- I'm going to work. We have cases, people need us.” You had a determined look on your face, you were always stubborn. 

Spencer thought this to himself as his gaze softened, a sympathetic look creeping up.   “Honey, you need to take care of yourself, it's okay to not go to work for one day. You'll be better help with the case when your not in pain and your more clear headed-”

You found it hard to argue, stuttering a bit before huffing and saying “but the team needs me…” your argument was meek, as you had essentially already accepted defeat. 

Your disagreement made Spencer furrow his eyebrows, causing the familiar worry crease between the two form.

Though it was hard for Spencer to stay mad at you, especially when you looked so sweet like that. Sat at the kitchen table, a warm mug of coffee cupped between your hands, your hair a mess from sleep. 

there was still a substantial amount of coffee left in your mug. You had forgotten it for arguing with your boyfriend.

Spencer Instead pushed himself up from his chair with a heave, making his way to you a couple steps away. 

He reached out a hand. A compromise. You took it silently in surrender to Spencer's insistence. Although you didn't say anything Spencer could tell you were slightly embarrassed at needing to take a break. 

He offered a small squeeze of your hand as reassurance, hoping to provide some comfort. 

Spencer used his hold on your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. He left a chaste kiss on your lips and left you to get ready. 

He instead used the time to call your boss and explain the situation. You could vaguely hear Spencer speaking to someone on the phone as you pulled out some of your (Spencer's) most well worn lounge wear. 

“Hey Hotch, ya, ya- oh really- are you sure?” You could only hear Spencer's side of the conversation as you entered the living room with your cane in hand. 

Spencer threw you a smile as you walked up to him, taking his cheek in your palm and placing a soft kiss. 

Once Spencer hung up the phone, he explained that Hotch had told him that it was mostly a paperwork day. This meant Spencer could stay home with you all day(as the workaholic he was he always brought his paperwork home anyways).

Despite having woken up not more than an hour ago, you were ready to sink into the couch, resting your cane against the side.

You weren't really listening to what Spencer was saying very well as the fog was growing thick in your mind. 

Spencer almost immediately noticed, and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you into his side.

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. Spencer placed one arm around your shoulder and used the other to work on some reports. 

You spent most of the day in his arms, sleeping, or talking with your boyfriend. You tried doing some mission reports but your brain felt like sludge and your muscles ached. 

But it wasn't as bad, because you had Spencer there with you.

The End

Taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid |@ferrjulie | @khxna | @il0vebeingdelulu | @lover-of-books-and-tea | @jaden-reid | @eli-chris

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[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Be Kind

Even When You're Stone Cold You're Sorry (3)

Scarlet Witch x Witch!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Your Goddess is back and things have gone back to how they were...or have they?

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, R calls SW Goddess, SW refers to R as pet, SW is abusive towards R, SW takes care of R.

A/N: Better late than never! :D

As you fell back into the routine with your Goddess, you found yourself adapting more quickly than expected. You remembered the rules, staying off the furniture, waking up early to prepare breakfast, and patiently waiting by her feet for your meal. Despite the fear and trepidation that still lingered, you were determined to prove yourself worthy of her approval.

In your training sessions with the Scarlet Witch, you pushed yourself harder than ever before, eager to show her your progress. And when your magic manifested in shades of red for the first time, you couldn't contain your excitement.

"My Goddess! Did you see!? That last spell was red! I did it!" you exclaimed, bounding up to her with a sense of pride.

But your enthusiasm was met with a cold response. "It was one time. Don't get ahead of yourself, pet," she admonished, delivering a sharp tap to the top of your head that made you whimper.

"You still have much to learn, and I won't be praising you for every little thing you do. I'm not your Mommy," she added, her tone firm and unwavering.

You rubbed your head, the sting of her words cutting deep. You should have known better than to expect praise from her. "Yes, of course, My Goddess. I'm sorry. You're right; I still have much to learn from you," you replied, bowing your head in submission.

As you stood before her, the weight of her expectations pressing down on you, you knew that earning her approval would be no easy feat. But you were determined to prove yourself, no matter what it took.

-------------------------

You stand in the corner of the small, dimly lit bathroom, the stone walls and floors casting an eerie glow in the flickering candlelight. Across from you sits an old wooden tub, steam rising from the hot water within, and your heart pounds in your chest as you tremble with uncertainty.

"Come here, pet," the Scarlet Witch calls out, her voice echoing off the walls. But you hesitate, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. "I... I didn't like anything she did!" you blurt out, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to defend yourself.

But your Goddess shakes her head, her expression softening. "No, pet. You've been good. I'm rewarding you," she reassures you, her words sending a wave of confusion through you.

With gentle coaxing, she guides you over to the tub, her presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your fear. With a snap of her fingers, the rags you had been wearing vanish, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

Tentatively, you step into the hot water, feeling its soothing embrace enveloping your weary body. The scars that mar your skin, souvenirs of the Scarlet Witch's harsh discipline, ache with the memory of pain.

Sitting beside the tub, your Goddess takes a washcloth and begins to gently wash away the dirt and grime of the day, her touch tender and comforting against your skin.

"Now, pet, let me ask you," she says softly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Do you love me?"

Your head snaps up, meeting her gaze with wide eyes filled with tears. "Of course I do, My Goddess! I've devoted myself to you and only you since before we met!" you cry out, the words pouring forth from your lips with raw honesty.

A gentle hand comes to rest on your face, its touch as light as a feather. "Thank you for being honest with me, pet," she says, a smile gracing her lips. It's a smile that makes your heart flutter and your stomach churn with a mixture of fear and longing.

In that moment, as you sit in the warm embrace of the bath, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the comforting presence of your Goddess, you realize that despite the pain and fear, there is a bond between you that cannot be broken. And as her smile washes over you like a ray of sunlight, you know that you would follow her to the ends of the earth, no matter the cost.

-------------------------

As you settled into your makeshift bed, more of a nest really, on the floor, clutching Nugget tightly to your chest, you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you. It was a routine you had grown accustomed to, the comfort of the floor becoming almost second nature.

But just as you were about to drift off into slumber, you felt a strange sensation wash over your body. Your eyes snapped open to find yourself surrounded by swirling red magic, lifting you effortlessly from the floor and depositing you onto the bed.

Confusion flooded your mind as you stared up at the Scarlet Witch, her presence looming over you. "She let you on the bed, correct?" she asked, her tone sharp and commanding.

"Oh... uh... yes, she did. I know you said I couldn't, and I tried to tell her-" you began, but the Scarlet Witch cut you off with a wave of her hand.

"You can keep your bed privileges for now. Stay by my feet," she instructed, her words leaving you stunned.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to make of this unexpected turn of events. But eventually, you obeyed her command, curling up near her feet as she settled into bed.

As you lay there, watching her carefully, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief wash over you. Your Goddess was allowing you to stay in the bed, something you never thought would happen. It was a small gesture, but to you, it felt like a blessing.

With Nugget still tucked under your chin, you waited until the Scarlet Witch's breathing evened out, signaling that she had fallen asleep. Only then did you allow yourself to relax, the weight of the day's events finally catching up to you.

As sleep claimed you, curled up at your Goddess's feet, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker within you. Perhaps, despite everything, there was still a chance for things to change, for a glimmer of warmth and kindness to penetrate the darkness of your existence.

----------------------

As your Goddess prepared you for your outing, dressing you in simple yet practical attire, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. The jean shorts, black t-shirt, and converse were a far cry from the elaborate garments you had seen her wear, but you wore them with a sense of pride, grateful for the opportunity to accompany her.

With a snap of her fingers, a scarlet hooded cloak materialized around you, enveloping you in its warmth and adding a touch of mystery to your appearance. "You're allowed to come, but you will keep your head down," she instructed, her voice firm and commanding.

"Yes, My Goddess. Any other rules?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, causing the hood to fall over your eyes. The Scarlet Witch smirked and reached out to fix your hood, her touch gentle yet commanding.

"No talking to anyone, and if you need anything, just call me Scarlet," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded in understanding, looking up at her with a sense of reverence. "Yes, Scarlet," you replied obediently, your voice barely above a whisper.

With that, you followed her out into the world, the hood of your cloak pulled low over your eyes, your heart racing with excitement at the prospect of accompanying your Goddess on her journey. And as you walked by her side, keeping your head down as instructed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at being chosen to accompany her, even if it meant following her silently and without question.

--------------

As you walked through the small town, keeping your head low as instructed but still allowing your eyes to roam, you couldn't help but notice the somber atmosphere that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy fog. It was a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the streets, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were walking through a place haunted by the ghosts of its past.

Eventually, your Goddess led you to an open field, where a large memorial stone stood as a silent testament to the tragedy that had befallen the town. You approached it cautiously, your heart heavy with sorrow as you realized the significance of the place.

"What is this, Scarlet?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was equally subdued, her voice heavy with emotion as she stared straight ahead at the stone. "My brother's memorial stone and all those who died when Sokovia flew into the air from Ultron," she explained, her words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain and loss.

As you stood beside her, gazing at the names etched into the stone, you couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the lives that had been lost. And as your Goddess spoke of her reasons for creating the memorial, you felt a surge of admiration for her strength and resilience in the face of such tragedy.

"I made this for us. So none of them would be forgotten," she told you, her voice soft but resolute.

In that moment, as you stood beside her in quiet contemplation, you realized the depth of her love for her homeland and the people who had been lost. And as you looked up at her, a silent vow formed in your heart to honor their memory for as long as you lived, standing by your Goddess's side through thick and thin.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while before you were interrupted, "Wanda, you need to let her go," The voice of Doctor Strange caught your attention, his voice firm and resolute.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for your Goddess's response, the tension in the air palpable as the two powerful sorcerers faced off against each other.

"I didn't take her. She willingly followed," the Scarlet Witch replied, her voice tinged with defiance.

But Doctor Strange wasn't swayed by her words. "This isn't like America, Stephen. I won't go through this again. I've left everyone alone. This girl came looking for me. She used magic to find me," she explained, her tone pleading.

Yet, despite her explanation, Doctor Strange seemed unmoved. "You'll say anything at this point, won't you? I'm taking her back to her family, Wanda," he declared, his resolve unwavering.

The air crackled with magic as both sorcerers prepared for battle, their powers colliding in a dazzling display of light and energy. And as the conflict unfolded before you, you realized that you were nothing more than a pawn caught in the midst of their struggle, powerless to do anything but watch as the fate of your future hung in the balance.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @mrsromanovaa

[snwvie]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬. satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro and choso kamo.

𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

you peeked into his office, the usual vibrant energy dampened by stacks of paperwork. gojo, usually a whirlwind of chaotic confidence, looked positively defeated, a crease furrowing his brow. a playful smile tugged at your lips. perfect timing.

"wow, someone looks like they could use some saving," you announced, leaning against the doorway. gojo's head snapped up, a bewildered yet relieved smile replacing his frustration.

"whoa, (y/n)! what brings you to the jujutsu high torture chamber?" he exclaimed, pushing aside the papers to gesture you in. you sauntered in, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"just thought i'd rescue my favorite sorcerer from the clutches of boredom," you replied, holding out a steaming mug emblazoned with a cartoon cat. gojo's eyes glittered with appreciation.

"you're a lifesaver, literally," he sighed dramatically, taking the mug. "and a boredom-slayer, apparently." the surprise lifted the weight from his shoulders, replaced with playful banter and an extra pep in his step for the rest of the day.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

geto was hunched over a grimoire, his brow furrowed in concentration. the air crackled with a tension that made you hesitate. you weren't sure if interrupting his research was wise. 

however, your presence was already known – the faint smell of your favourite bakery lingered in the air from the pastry you brought.

geto's gaze darted to you, surprise momentarily disrupting his stoic composure. a ghost of a smile played on his lips. "(y/n)," he acknowledged, his voice calm despite the obvious disruption. "something i can help you with?"

you set the bag of pastries on his desk, a small, nervous smile on your face. "just thought you might need a sugar rush," you mumbled.

geto's expression softened. "thank you," he said genuinely, setting down the grimoire. the tension dissipated as you chatted, stealing a bite of pastry here and there. geto appreciated the thoughtful gesture and the brief break from his research.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

you found him drowning in paperwork at his office in the higher-ups building. nanami, a man of routine, looked unusually stressed, even running his hand through his usually neat hair.

you cleared your throat, making him look up. surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a stoic expression. "(y/n)," he acknowledged with a small nod.

"working late again, nanami-kun?" you asked, concern tinging your voice. he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "seems some paperwork is never-ending," he muttered.

you grabbed a stack of files from his desk. "let's grab some coffee and tackle this together. my treat." 

he hesitated but ultimately agreed. your presence and offer of help were a welcome surprise, a much-needed break in his monotonous day.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you arrived at his usual training spot in the forest, expecting him to be honing his fighting skills. instead, he sat slumped against a tree, a rare look of vulnerability on his face.

you cautiously approached, unsure of what you'd find. "toji?" you called out. he looked up, startled, then gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.

"what brings you here?" he asked, his voice gruff. you shrugged, offering him a small smile. "thought i'd check up on you, see how my ‘strongest’ is doing."

he scoffed, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "don't need babysitting," he grumbled. 

however, he didn't protest when you sat beside him, offering a silent companionship he wouldn't readily admit he enjoyed. your presence, unexpected yet welcome, provided a break from his usual solitude.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

you peeked into the dimly lit storage room where choso meticulously organised his stuff. with a mischievous grin, you slipped in, the door creaking softly.

choso froze, his head snapping towards the sound. his eyes widened momentarily, a faint blush dusted his cheeks.

the surprise quickly melted into a soft smile, he'd set aside his tools, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. "what are you doing here?" he'd ask, his voice a low rumble.

he might brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second too long. or, he'd offer you a seat on a nearby crate.

the two of you would sit on a couple of overturned crates, sharing the onigiri and tea in comfortable silence. he might steal glances at you, a soft warmth blooming in his chest at your unexpected visit.

support banner by @cafekitsune

[lewkwoodnco]

You look like shit - Lockwood x Reader

One time you told lockwood he looked like shit and four times he told you you looked like shit

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

a/n: just a little drabble i typed up having been inspired by this post :)

tropes/warnings: mostly fluffy, some mentions of grief, slight description of injury, smidge of flirty-ish banter 🙈🙈

wc: 1.5k!

“You look like shit.”

Lockwood froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. He gaped at her briefly before setting the mug down once the shock passed. She was Lockwood & Co.'s newest employee and it was only recently that the ice had been sufficiently broken for their interactions to evolve into something more than a passing smile or greeting. This, however, was more than he had expected. He was possessed by a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh.

"It's like, 10 in the morning, and you already look exhausted. Do you ever sleep?"

He struggled with his words for a moment. "...yes. Sometimes."

"Not enough, clearly."

He did look especially worse for wear that morning. Only just recovering from a mild flu, his insomnia was at an all-time high and the lack of sun over the past week had his skin looking nearly transparent. He was a frail, washed-out thing flitting restlessly between rooms, bemoaning all the cases he was missing out on while cooped up here.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in days. She coughed, embarrassed, feeling like she had grossly overstepped.

"I mean...you don't look that horrible."

Fortunately, Lucy chose that exact moment to walk in and sufficiently distract Lockwood with the details of their newest case and she took the opportunity to duck out of the room. What the hell had she been thinking?

"H- oh, you look like shit."

She emerged from behind the counter through a cloud of steam, her hair resting on her shoulders like a large, frizzy, brittle rat. While he and George had spent the morning at the Archives, she had spent it at Portland Row preparing Fesenjān for their lunch as part of some stupid bet she had made with George.

"Oh, good, you're back. You took your time."

"George is still there so Lucy's going in to hel-"

She cut him off by shoving a spoon of hot stew into his mouth.

"Taste."

Lockwood spluttered around the spoon, mouth working furiously to cool the scalding food while she watched him intently.

"Well?"

"It's...it's good."

"As good as George's?"

He grimaced. "I don't think I should be taking sides in this." He didn't even want to think about George finding out.

"This isn't taking sides. But also, if anyone asks, you weren't here. So...?" She fixed a desperate look on him. Lockwood sighed.

"It could use a little more salt."

"Angel." She turned around, pulling out the salt while he watched her with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The crazy hair suited her in some odd way.

“You look like shit.”

He had meant for it to come out as teasing but at the sight of her tearstained face, it sounded terribly mean. He had found her sitting on the front steps late one evening when he was about to turn in, only a thin hoodie insulating her from the harsh cold. Her head whipped around at the sound of his voice, a hand carelessly dragged across her face. He took a seat next to her, dropping his voice.

"Everything alright?"

She swallowed, eyes trained on their shoes. Her voice was hoarse with disuse.

"One of my friends moved away a couple of years back. She's been in an accident."

"How bad of an accident?"

There was a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to go on. "The worst."

In a rare moment of weakness, she crumbled, sagging against Lockwood like she had no spine left to hold herself upright. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around her, and the simple gesture was enough to break her down. She cried into his shirt, cried for the friend she would never see again, cried for the part of her childhood that had chipped off and floated away into some abyss. Cried while he held her.

"I can't -" she hiccuped, unable to hold back a poorly concealed sob. "I can't even remember the last thing I said to her." It felt like an awful thing to admit, something sinful and evil, something that made it impossible for her to shake the tremble from her hands. His hold on her tightened a fraction, like he was holding her shattered pieces together, and she clung to his shirt with all the despair of a shipwrecked passenger.

Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want him to leave. And so he stayed.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

They had just returned from a job at some old, abandoned building set to be torn down in a few months. George and Lucy were handling some other case at the other end of the city, so the sounds of them shucking off their coats and gear echoed through the empty house. Between the two of them, she was always more prone to going ham on their cases. Today, it was in the form of her barrelling full tilt through a series of cobwebs to serve as a distraction. The case had ended with Lockwood hurriedly bagging the Source and her pink-faced and speckled with the grey strings.

Back at Portland Row's kitchen, there was still a lingering tinge of warmth to her cheeks. Lockwood paused by the cupboard where she was pulling out some mugs and plates, idly picking off the remaining strands still loosely clinging to her hair and shoulders. As his movements slowed, fading into something more gentle and meticulous, she glanced at him. He looked back. The cobwebs now littered the little space between them, but still he did not move away. The back of her neck prickled under his wretchedly attentive gaze. She did not know how to look away.

"Tea?" she croaked out, throat embarrassingly taut with choked-back emotion.

Whatever spell that had settled over them broke. Lockwood reeled back, almost noisily busying himself with fishing out the biscuit tin, forcing something nonchalant into his voice.

"Sure."

They spent the rest of their night operating with an invisible bubble between them, neither of them daring to get too close to the other lest a brush of the hand shattered the pallid illusion they were play-acting in. The house was far too quiet that night, filled with the unbearably soothing sounds of their cutlery, the rain and their breathing. Lockwood fiddled with his mug. She scratched at a particularly obscene message etched into the thinking cloth. He dragged a shoe along the scuffed kitchen floors. She drummed her fingers restlessly, watching the seconds tick by excruciatingly slow on the clock.

Where the hell were George and Lucy?

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

She was in a gleaming, sterile hospital room, painfully twisted into some uncomfortable plastic chair after a night of fitful sleep and checking to make sure Lockwood was still alive. Lockwood had gone out for a solo case and she had been waiting up, expecting him to return any minute when the hospital called. Luckily, it was nothing fatal, but enough to keep him out of commission for a while. Enough to make her worry.

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

He quirked a smile at that, then immediately winced. She lightly tilted his bruised face just as he raised a tentative hand to the stitches on his lip, their fingers brushing against each other for a fraction of a second. He looked at her questioningly, unable to see how it was healing himself, and she thought it was extremely unfair to have eyes as disarming as his. She shoved down the stab of sympathy at the unexpectedly vulnerable sight. Hospital gowns really did a number on how strong, or lack thereof, a patient seemed.

“Poor baby. Do you need someone to kiss it better?”

“You could kiss me better.”

“You…are clearly still concussed. Where on earth is your nurse?”

She stood and busied herself by sticking her head out the door and looking for his nurse, which was most definitely not an attempt to hide the flush creeping up her neck. After a few minutes of futile searching, she returned, alarmed at how wan Lockwood was starting to seem.

“I don’t remember getting a concussion,” he murmured, closing his aching eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s how concussions work. Idiot.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he cracked an eye open as if he had heard something in her voice. He slipped her fingers through hers casually and she felt the tension in his stiff shoulders ease.

"You should sleep," she tried gently. His thumb slowly traced hers drowsily. Still, he forced his eyes open with considerable effort. Looked at her like she was all he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

"In a minute."

It was the first of the lifetime of minutes ahead of them.

TAGLIST: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cielooci @midnight--raine @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

[heich0e]

wake up call suna rintarou/f!reader (haikyuu!) word count: 2k tags: sfw but suggestive, classic morning after meltdown, walk of shame (bedroom to kitchen edition), pining, fwb to lovers, idiots to lovers, instagram story repliers to lovers, bestfriend!terushima, implied teruyams. a/n: i heard suna rintarou has a 8 pack... i heard he’s shredded

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up—

“I fucked up.”

“Good morning to you too,” Yuuji chirps from the other line as you answer his call. His bright tone is a stark contrast to your own hoarse, panicked whisper—having frantically fished your ringing cellphone from the bottom of your tangled bedsheets when it woke you. “What did you do this time?”

"I..."

You hear the unmistakable sound of your shower running down the hall of your one bedroom apartment, sucking in a breath.

"... am going to be late for brunch.”

“Ohhh.” Your best friend’s tone of voice turns salacious. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Terushima Yuuji is nothing if not insatiably gossip hungry. “Who did you do this time?"

"Yuuji..." you trail off, weary and miserable.

"I should have known what you were up to when you disappeared from the bar last night without saying goodbye.”

“Yuuji,” you repeat yourself, though this time it's a harsher snap that's punctuated by a painful throb buried deep between your temples. “I’m serious, this is bad.”

“Oh no,” he says with a dramatic gasp, quickly realizing just what—and who—you’ve done.

You let out a dismal, pathetic little groan.

“You said it was never gonna happen again! Swore up and down that you’d rather be struck dead than ever—“

“Shut up,” you hiss, another pang of your aching hangover blooming behind your eyes. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault? You’re the one who was all ‘Yuu I’m getting transferred to Nagano wah wah wahhh I’m not going to know anybody wah wah Oh, doesn’t your super cute boyfriend’s friend study in Nagano? Can’t you put me in contact with him? i just wanna know one person wahhhhh.’”

“That was insulting,” you sniff following his offensive impersonation of the conversation the two of you had shared ten months prior before you'd moved across the country for your promotion. You push your messy, matted hair back from your face.

“That was spot on and you know it.” He snickers. “Anyway, blaming me for any part of the mess you’ve gotten yourself into here is laughable.”

“If you’d never introduced me to Tsukki I never would have met—“

The shower down the hall turns off, and your head snaps towards your bedroom door—left slightly ajar by the last person to exit it.

“I have to go,” you whisper in a panic, and hang up before you can hear Yuuji’s (surely snarky) reply.

You stumble on your own two feet as you scramble out of bed, grabbing an old oversized t-shirt to pull on from your floor next to your hamper. You hadn’t even cleaned up your apartment last night, you realize in horror, rushing out to your living room.

There are dishes in your sink, a half-empty and uncapped bottle of green tea on your counter that you never finished, a pair of shoes in the middle of your floor, and a pile of work papers on the corner of your coffee table with an empty candy wrapper on top that you'd forgotten to throw away. Your eyes flicker to your closed bathroom door and wonder what humiliating mess you might have left in there.

Your cellphone, clutched tightly in your hand, buzzes with a text.

Tadashi and I’s train home to Sendai leaves at 2, and if I don’t see you before then I will assume you have died of mortification or had your back broken.

Either way RIP.

‘Fuck you’ you text back, sneering at the way he's taking pleasure in your misery.

Your bathroom door opens.

“Hey,” a familiar figure steps out, and a wispy cloud of steam follows. You feel the humid heat kiss your cheeks as he towels the ends of his hair.

There's another wrapped around his waist, but the man before you is otherwise glistening and bare.

“Hi.” You stand like a proverbial deer in the headlights, averting your eyes demurely.

The phone in your hand buzzes again, and your gaze flickers towards it.

I wouldn’t say no to Suna Rintarou’s sloppy seconds 👅

You toss your phone gracelessly behind you onto your couch.

Suna quirks a dark brow as the device lands with an audible little thump among the cushions, but otherwise passes no comment.

Everything on your body aches.

“Sleep well?” he asks you, ruffling the hair beside his right ear with the end of your favourite lilac bathtowel.

No.

“Yeah, you?”

“Mhmm.” He lets the towel rest looped around the back of his neck. He juts a thumb over his shoulder towards the door he'd just exited. “I was gonna wake you to ask but I figured I'd just shower first. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you wave your hand dismissively, trying to keep your voice as even and unbothered as possible though you have reason to suspect you might be failing.

It's painfully, hideously quiet in the moments that follow.

“So," Suna says, his uncannily vulpine eyes watching your every move carefully, "wanna grab breakfast?”

“I have plans actually." Your answer comes too quickly and too emphatically even though it’s true. You shuffle into your kitchen just as an excuse to put some distance between the two of you.

He follows.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply through the sticky tightness of your throat. “I can make you a coffee though?”

You feel gross. Your skin feels tacky and icky and you desperately need a shower. You're also fairly confident that you didn’t even have the presence of mind (or remaining stamina) to take any of your makeup off last night, and can only imagine what you must look like right now as a result.

Your cheeks flush hot at the realization, and you spin on your heel to face your kitchen cupboards to--if nothing else--spare you another mortifying moment of being too closely perceived.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you insist, pulling open the cabinet door in front of you and reaching towards the middle shelf to grab your bag of coffee grinds.

“You can hardly bear to look at me." You can tell as he speaks that Suna's getting closer, and panic mounts in your aching chest. You fiddle with the foiled edge of the plastic coffee bag nervously.

“You’re half naked,” you squeak out like it should be obvious.

A large hand appears in your peripheral vision, resting on the cupboard door next to your head and slowly easing it closed.

"I was fully naked last night, and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”

“Suna, I-“ you falter when you turn around and realize just how close he is.

He's right in front of you. So close that you can feel the residual heat from the shower radiating off his exposed skin, so close you can see the droplets of water that still cling to him. His hand still rests flat against the cupboard beside your head, and the other on the counter next to your hip.

“You call me Rin when you’re drinking, you call me Rin when we’re fucking,”--you realize belatedly he has you practically pinned against the counter with his body--“why can’t you ever call me Rin in the morning?”

Your pulse pounds in the back of your throat, and for a terrible, horrifying moment you think you might be sick. In your panic, you duck under his arm and skitter away.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you mumble, heat climbing up your cheeks as you flee to the other side of your tiny kitchen--not that it does much good.

Suna turns and surveys you skeptically as you wring your clammy hands. “Is that so?”

You nod, entirely unconvincingly.

“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

“What reason would I possibly have to lie to you?” you toss back, equally accusatory in tone, but it's clear to both of you that you're floundering.

“Great question," Suna crosses his arms over his stupidly toned chest, "I’d like to know the answer too.”

All you can focus on is how his posture makes both his chest and his biceps look unbelievably good.

“I’m too hungover for this,” you groan, cradling your head in your hands.

“Do you need medicine?” Suna softens in the face of your apparent agony, taking a little step towards you.

“No, no!"--you throw your arm out to keep him at a distance, waving him away dismissively--"And don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asks, head tilting to the side in confusion.

"Y'know..." Your mouth opens and then closes again as you try to string together any coherent sequence of words. "Be all… nice to me.”

“Don’t be nice?" Suna's already monotonous voice is impossibly flat as he interrogates you. "Why not?”

“Because you’re you!” you finally snap, exasperated and flustered and wishing more than anything that you could just crawl back into your bed and pretend none of this ever happened.

“Uh, as opposed to…?”

“You know what I mean!” You huff frustratedly.

He looks at you like he really, really doesn't.

“You’re charming and hot and a professional fucking athlete with an eight pack,”--you gesture accusatorially to his naked torso for dramatic effect--“and yeah you’re a little weird, but honestly it’s kind of infuriatingly cute.”

Suna glances down and quietly counts his own abs, seeming genuinely surprised when he finds that you’re not wrong.

“I thought I only had 6,” he says, mildly impressed, as he looks up. “I think you’re cute too, by the way.”

You resist the urge to scream, settling instead for crouching with your head held in your hands.

It's quiet again, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the painful pulse you can feel pounding behind them.

Your voice is softer, more defeated, when you finally do speak.

“You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re us. And us just… doesn’t do nice.”

You hear Suna shuffle towards you, his bare feet appearing in front of your downturned gaze as he crouches in front of you and mirrors your stance.

“Hey, don’t I get a say in any of this?” he asks, surprisingly gentle.

“You can’t really will two of your abdominal muscles away,” you mumble.

“I’m not talking about my abs,” he says, but he can’t help but laugh a little. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that there’s a reason I keep coming over here? That there’s a reason we keep hooking up?”

You blink, pursing your lips. You still refuse to meet his gaze though you can feel it on the features of your face.

“I’m annoying? And surprisingly hard to shake when I’m drunk and propositioning you?”

“Yeah,” he replies simply, “and I also happen to like you.”

You suck in a sharp, wounded breath. “It’s… different for me, Rin. I-I’m worried that I like you more than I should. And I don’t know when it happened, or what to do about it.”

“There you go making decisions all on your own again.”—Suna clicks his tongue admonishingly—“I reply to every single one of your Instagram stories.”

He makes the announcement as if it should clear everything up, though it unsurprisingly does not.

You blink, peeking up at him from under your lashes.

“You’re just always on your phone.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he admits, running a hand through his wet hair and pushing it back from his face. He draws in a little breath and holds it for a moment, like he’s steeling his nerve. “Do you have any idea how often I bug Tsukki for updates on you? How you are, where you’ve been, if you mentioned me? It’s kind of pathetic. I’m pretty sure he’s muted my text notifications.”

You don’t understand.

“Why?”

He laughs, though the sound is relatively mirthless.

“Because I like you. I already said that.”

“You like fucking me,” you argue, hiding your face in your hands.

“No,” he’s exasperated now, and you realize that this might be the most you’ve ever actually spoken to Suna about anything that isn’t, well, directly related to being penetrated by him. “I mean, yeah, obviously. But I also think you’re funny, and have good taste in music, and find it really fucking cute when you text me at two o’clock in the morning trying to start a fight with me just because you want me to come over.”

Terushima did once accuse you of using instigation as foreplay.

“I was keeping things casual because I thought it was what you wanted, not because I thought it was all you deserved.” He ducks closer to you, and gently pries your hands off of your face so you have no choice but to look at him. “I’m gonna say this once to make it perfectly clear: I like you just as much as you like me. Hell, maybe more. You’re free to do with that information what you will, but I just… need you to know.”

He stares at you, hands loosely circling your wrists as he holds them away from your burning face, and you have absolutely no choice but to stare back.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you agree.

You’re both breathing heavily, your heartbeat racing in your chest.

Suna looks suddenly quite guilty, his narrow eyes flickering away.

“I really wanna fuck you right now,” he admits breathily.

“I really need to shower,” you say, but you sound almost remorseful. “And I wasn’t lying about having brunch plans.”

“I could come with you,” he offers, his grip sliding up from your wrists to cradle your hands with his own, his fingertips trailing over your knuckles.

“My shower is pretty small…”

“I meant to brunch,”—he threads his fingers through your own and squeezes, accompanying the gesture with a breathy little laugh—“but thanks for thinking of me.”

“Oh,” you mumble, too fixated on how much bigger his hands are compared to yours to offer much else.

Suna groans suddenly, dropping his forehead to your collar.

“You look good in my shirt,” he says, but in spite of the compliment it almost sounds like a complaint. “it’s kind of driving me crazy.”

You thought that you’d pulled on your own oversized t-shirt, but in your hungover, barely-conscious panic you had in fact put on his.

Suna smells like your shampoo when he nuzzles against your throat, and he’s still deliciously warm from his shower as he slumps into you on your kitchen floor. The early morning sunshine streams through the windows behind him in your living room, and your eyes flicker to the bag of coffee you’d abandoned on your counter.

Your fingers gently brush against Suna’s nape, running through the damp tendrils of hair that curl against his neck.

“I… really do need to shower,” you say, though it takes a lot more of your willpower than you’re willing to admit. “But… there will be other brunches.”

Suna pulls back to look at you.

“Yeah?” he asks, a smile playing at his lips that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He’s so close that you can see the single dimple on one side of his mouth, and the faint freckles smattered around the highest points of his cheeks.

“Yeah,” you agree, soft and affectionate.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” you echo.

[jusmango-shake]

Hey

You wrote a great chapter - 12!Raph x calm!Reader , I can ask you to continue it when Raph starts trying to attract the reader

🥭: No problemo!

12!Raph x calm!Reader (pt. 2) (pt. 1)

Fictype: Normal

Mood: Fluff

Warnings: cussing

🥭:I forgot to save my last draft, now I gotta write it all over again. Oopsie X3

Raph shifted tirelessly in bed, unable to sleep.

Ever since that day, with a new sense of hope. Raph tried his best to serenade you, it proved frustrating though after the twelfth time his brothers walked in.

He tried training harder to get your attention, only to get distracted and get his ass kicked.

Raph rubbed the sore spot on his head, groaning in pain as he attempted to soothe the bruise. Master Splinter sighed from the chair he was currently sat at.

He stood up and turned to look at you. as he met your eyes, he found you already staring at him with a hint of pity in your eyes.

Raph felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and partially shame.

You briefly left the room to go get him an ice pack. When you came back he found himself unable to look in your eyes, flushing a deeper shade of pink as he felt you gingerly place the ice pack on the forming bruise.

He rubbed the now healed spot on the top of his head when he recalled another time he tried impressing you by challenging his brothers to an arm wrestling contest, only for you to join and beat him yourself. Man you were stronger than you looked

The sound of a fist banging on the table rang loudly throughout the room, heavy panting signifying Raph's victory, he had won in the arm wrestling contest.

He wore a smug grin as he looked in your direction. he watched as you made your way towards the table, taking a seat in the opposing chair.

The feeling of his victory quickly fading. A look of confusion replacing the once smug smile on his face. he watched as you lifted your arm up onto the table, propping your open hand up using your elbow.

It was then he realised your intentions.

You intended to challenge him.

“mind if I join?”

"Nah, go for it."

He would hold back, of course. But Before Raph even registered that the game had started, his hand was already pressed against the table.

Silence filled the room, everyone's gaze flickering from your hand to Raph's hands laying on the table.

Mikey started laughing, poking at Raph's cheek as he teased him about losing so easily.

"Man! I didn't expect you to-" Mikey once again burst out laughing, "—losE so easily!"

Mikey wiped a tear from his eyes, it seemed like the others were holding back laughter too.

He looked back at you, a sheepish expression on your face. He flushed red and quickly stormed out of the room.

The others watched as Raph practically had steam coming out from the side of his head, marching over to his room.

Raph held a pillow over his face, groaning into it as he brainstormed more ideas. He took the pillow off of his face, staring blankly up at the ceiling, he sighs.

He really didn't want to resort to asking his brothers for advice, but, desperate times call for desperate measures.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Raph walked over to the living room, scanning the area for any signs of you. Once the coast was clear, he made his way towards his brothers.

"Yo!" Mikey took a bite of his pizza, "mornin' dude." Waving at Raph with his free hand.

"Morning Raph."

Donnie just simply waved his hand, too busy tinkering with something on the couch.

"I need to ask you guys something." He cut to the chase.

Leonardo paused the show they were currently watching, all three of them looking at him.

"I need.. Fuck— how do I explain this?"

Mikey got off the couch, walking over to Raph before patting him on the shoulder.

"Don't sweat it broski, if you need advice on how to ask out [Name], we gotchu bro." He beamed at Raph.

Raph looked at Mikey confused. He then looked at the others confused, only for them to shrug.

"It's pretty obvious you have a crush on them man. Donatello and April obvious." Donnie groaned.

"It doesn't answer my question though, how do I ask out [Name]?" Raph huffed.

"Just be yourself." Donnie piped up.

"Are you sure that'll work D? I mean.. Raph is Raph. No offense." Mikey gestured at Raph.

Raph growled at Mikey.

"No, really. According to studies, if you just be yourself you have a much higher cha—"

"I think what Donnie means is, just tell them." Leo interjected.

Raph sighed, 'i guess I'll try it.' he thought.

"If you need help giving her a gift, I'm the man to call." Mikey patted Raph's back.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Raph stood at the doors of your balcony, in the end, even Casey and April helped him.

He looked at his reflection, they forced him to wear a suit. His gaze flicked over to the bouquet he bought for you, he got them specifically because they were your favourite flowers.

He held his breath as he knocked on the sliding glass doors, awkwardly waiting for you to open. He perked up at the sound of footsteps coming from the other side.

His heart skipped a beat when you finally opened it, already smiling due to him usually coming over. Your eyes widened slightly as they landed on the bouquet, he could faintly see a blush on your cheeks in the soft moon light.

“Wh—” you looked in his eyes.

"I uh- thought I'd get you a gift. It was April's idea." He swallowed his saliva, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. Extending the one with the bouquet over to you.

The shocked look on your face faded into a soft smile, not the one you usually wore around his brothers. The smile you only had for him.

"I was wondering if- you'd.. like to be more than friends?" His heartbeat rang loudly in his chest, if it wasn't for the darkness of the night, he was sure you'd see the redness of his face. Maybe you already noticed it, always calm and collected.

Before he could get any wrong ideas, you walked over to him. kissing him softly on the cheek.

“I'd like that.”