#i want to be normal. i want to be liked. but there is something wrong with me ✨psychologically✨
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LIST - LANDO NORRIS
summary: Lando and his girlfriend make a list
warnings: smut
Lando and I had a list. It wasn't a normal list like a shopping list. It was a slightly...different list. When we started dating, I wasn't very experienced in sex, so Lando and I made a list of places and things we wanted to do in our most intimate moments.
The beach
It was a very hot evening. Lando wanted to go out for dinner, but I had food ready in the fridge, so we decided to go for a walk along the beach. When we got there, there was no one around. We sat on the sand for a while until he lightly brushed our lips together.
What was supposed to be a kiss turned into something bigger and before we knew it, Lando was on top of me, kissing my neck.
"Are you sure? We don't have to do this now," Lando asks me, pulling away from my neck a little, while I look around to see that the beach is still empty.
"It's okay, it's just us," I whisper and he kisses my neck again, while running his hands up my legs. I quickly slip my hands under his t-shirt and caress his muscles.
He unbuttons my pants and pulls them down with my panties. He removes his T-shirt and I move my hands to his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers.
He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a condom. I smile at him as he puts the latex on his cock.
"Were you expecting that?" He smiles at me too and nods, then places the tip against my clitoris.
"I thought we were going to do this in the car, but I like it better here"
I let out a laugh that is soon replaced by a moan from me and a sigh from Lando when he finally enters me.
He starts with slow thrusts, but when I wrap my legs around his waist, he starts to move faster, making me moan louder. He presses our lips together to muffle our moans. I also wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to bring our bodies closer together, which was almost impossible.
"Baby..."
Lando put his head on my neck and began to leave kisses all over my skin
"Come on baby, I'm almost there too"
I arched my back and felt Lando squeeze my waist when we cum at the same time
Our breathing becomes ragged as he lies against my chest.
"Baby...?"
He lifts his head and smiles, leaving a kiss on my forehead.
"I know, we have to go before someone comes along"
We dressed quickly and held hands, heading for the car to drive home.
One less thing on the list
2. Wearing his shirt
After several races since January, summer vacation has finally arrived. Lando and I decided to go with our friends to the French Islands. It was very hot, so we went to the beach almost every day.
After another day under the sun and being in the water, we head back to the hote. Lando and Max spend some more time in the hotel lobby playing pool, while Pietra and I go to our rooms.
Arriving at my room shared with Lando, I head straight for the bathroom. I take off my clothes and quickly step into the warm water. I take a quick shower and when I get out of the bathroom, I head for my suitcase. I try to find a baggy t-shirt, but when I don't, I go to Lando's bag, grabbing a McLaren t-shirt with Lando's name and number on the back. I take my book and go out onto the balcony, sitting down on the small bench there.
A few minutes later, I hear the door open and suddenly I hear Lando's voice
"Fuck's sake, God damn it"
I take my eyes off my book and look back, seeing Lando standing in the middle of the hotel room
"What? What's wrong? What happened?"
He slowly approaches me, looking at my body
"My shirt... on you. You're so fucking hot"
I let out a laugh and stand up, putting my book down on the table.
"Really? I didn't know you liked seeing me in your t-shirt." I move closer to him, when I get close he pulls me by the waist.
"Fuck I'm going to fuck you like this" He pushes me to the wall and attacks my neck.
I let out several moans and close my eyes, knowing that his lips would leave a mark for tomorrow. He moves his hands down to my thighs and pulls me up, making me jump and wrap my legs around his waist.
I press our lips together and he brings one of his hands between my legs. He pulls my shorts and panties aside and slips a finger inside me. I lean my head against the wall and move my waist slightly against his finger.
He adds another finger and I let out more moans. I wrap my arms around Lando's neck to hold myself up. Lando takes advantage and removes his fingers from me and pulls his cock out of his pants. He starts spreading pre-cum all over his erection.
In one swift movement he puts me down again and slaps my ass.
"Turn to the wall and wait"
I turn with my back to the wall and lean my forehead against it. I hear Lando opening something and then coming closer. I look over and see him putting the condom on
"I'm going to start taking the pill," I whisper as he gets closer, pressing the tip of his cock into my clitoris.
"I think that's a good idea," Lando smiles and soon he's inside me. I let out a loud sigh and push my ass up, resting my hands on the wall
"Shit, my name looks so good on your back" I continue to moan and sigh, along with Lando.
I feel his hands go up my back and Lando grabs my hair, then pulls lightly. He brings his mouth close to my neck and begins to leave kisses and marks all over my neck and back of my neck, while he increases his thrusts
I bite my lip as I feel my orgasm hit and wash over my body. Lando lets out an even louder moan and with one last thrust he buries himself in me, cumming hard.
He pulls out of me and turns me towards him. We go to bed and he lays me down, then walks to the bathroom and takes a damp towel and runs it over my hot body.
He lies down next to me and I rest my head on his chest, feeling his heart beat faster as I get closer
3. Dressing room
After a horrible free practice, where Lando ran into the barriers, he passes everyone in the pit box, completely angry. I follow him into his room and knock on the door.
"Baby, it's me. Can I come in?"
I hear some grumbling and something fall to the floor.
"Sure"
I slowly open the door and see his helmet on the floor next to the small bed he had in his room. I see him unzip his racing suit and sit down on the bed.
"I just screw up," Lando whispers with his head between his hands. I walk over and sit down next to him. I take his hands away from his face and smile slightly
"No, you don't. They said it was the car's problem, not yours. You couldn't have done anything." I caressed his hand as he looked down at the ground.
"If I hadn't braked so much on lap 16..." I touch his face with my hand and nod.
"No. You can't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault. And it was only practice. The engineers will see what happened and improve the car so you're ready for qualifying and the race."
He turns his face to me and smiles slightly
"Thank you, love. That made me feel a little better" He whispers and I move closer, leaning our foreheads together
"I know how to make you even better"
I bring our lips together and place my hands on Lando's chest, slowly pushing him to lie down on the small bed. I pull down his suit and the rest of his clothes, watching his cock bounce against his abdomen. When I get up to get the condoms from his backpack, Lando lifts his body and looks at me.
"Take your clothes off too. I like to see your breasts swaying as you ride me."
I feel my cheeks redden a little, but I nod. I hand Lando the condom and start to take off all my clothes. When I'm naked, I see Lando smiling mischievously at me. I walk over to him and sit on his lap.
"We can scratch the idea of having sex in your dressing room too," I whisper and raise my waist, then sit down on Lando.
"Yes, babygirl" he mumbles against my lips and I continue to sit on Lando, making my breasts bounce against his chest.
He holds one of my breasts and kisses down to the other. I let out more moans and grab Lando's hair, pulling on it. He switches breasts, giving the same attention to the other and I let out louder moans and sighs.
With a few more sits, I feel the knot in my stomach explode. Lando holds my waist and raises his head, looking at me. He gives a few sloppy thrusts and cums inside the condom.
I rest my head on Lando's shoulder, taking a deep breath. A few minutes later, we hear a noise at the door.
"Lando, we're waiting for you for the interviews." Oscar's voice echoes in Lando's room and I let out a low laugh.
"Yes, I'll be right there. One moment"
I lie down on the bed and stare at Lando as he gets dressed. He looks at me and before he leaves, he leaves a kiss on my forehead.
"Stay here until I get back. I won't be long"
One less thing on the list.
#lando norris smut#lando norris#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris x reader#lando x y/n#lando x you#smut
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Foxes II
Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader
Summary: You draw Jenni
One of Jenni's favourite things is a slow day off after a match. She doesn't have to go out. She doesn't have to run or kick a ball no matter how much she loves it.
She can just sit, stretched out on the sofa, typing away at her laptop. You sit squished between her and the back of the sofa, down by her legs where you can rub your fingers on her fuzzy pyjama bottoms.
They match yours and you like that.
They're fluffy and that feels good under your fingers.
Jenni looks down at you fondly. She hadn't gotten you dressed today, content to let you just chill for the day in your favourite pyjamas.
You have major bedhead too but you don't really like the feeling of the hairbrush so Jenni's glad that she had the foresight to braid up your hair last night so it's not a tangled mess and she can go without dragging a brush through it today.
"What do you want for lunch today, Osita?"
You look up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. "Panini," You say.
That's your go-to when Jenni orders in. There's a café nearby that delivers and you've been obsessed with the paninis since you first went in. The workers just adore you there and whenever you go, you come out with a perfect panini and a new fox sticker to add to your collection.
"Mhm," Jenni says," Your normal?"
You nod. Your fox ear headband slips briefly over your eyes and you push it back so you can see Jenni.
"Alright, Osita. Let me up so I can call."
You pout a little when she asks that because she's comfortable and you just want to lay on Mami forever. But you let her up anyway because your normal panini is the best panini in the world and it's the only thing you want to eat today.
You watch Mami go to order the food and you huff, moving to the floor. Your sketchpad and pencils lay there abandoned and you pick them up. Usually, you enjoy drawing the same fox over and over again but today you do something different.
Your pencil scrawls over the paper until a Mami fox and a baby fox appear on your page. You tear it out of your book, slamming your eyes shut at the horrific sound it makes.
It bounces in your ears as you wander over to Mami. She's still on the phone because she's well known at the café and the elderly couple that run it like to talk.
You tug on her pyjama bottoms and she looks down.
"One second...Osita, is something wrong? What's up?"
You hand here your drawing. "Us," You grunt before turning on your heels to return to the sofa where some of your fox toys wait for you.
Jenni watches you go, returning to her conversation before looking down at the picture you've given her. You don't like sharing your work, mainly because after the third time of the same picture, people get bored.
The picture you've drawn this time is different.
It's still clearly of foxes because Jenni knows you'd rather do nothing than draw anything other than a fox. There's a big fox sitting down with a little baby fox next to it. It's a line drawing and not coloured in at all which is a little different than normal but Jenni thinks is sweet.
Your spelling is coming along well though because you've scrawled 'Mami' and 'Me' under each of them so Jenni knows who they are.
She doesn't want to fold up this picture because it's special so she gently tucks it between the pages of a magazine.
The picture circles through Jenni's mind through the next few weeks until she decides on a plan one random evening as you sleep on her chest like you used to do as a baby.
It's a bit spur of the moment but once it's done Jenni can't help but think it's perfect.
"Mami," You say as your babysitter leaves," You're back."
"I am," She says," Can I show you something?"
You nod.
There's very little space on Jenni's arms that isn't heavily tattooed but there's a patch on her inner arm that's just big enough for a Mami fox and a baby fox.
"My drawing..." Tentatively, you reach out to trace your fingers across the tattoo, giggling when Jenni flutters kisses over your face.
At first, she thinks that's it. You're not the biggest fan of touch even from her, at least not skin-to-skin so Jenni's a little surprised when you wiggle up to her chest the next day off.
Most of the time, you stick lower by her legs because you like the feeling of her pyjamas against your face but Jenni welcomes you up higher with her as you try to find a comfortable position.
Your head rests against her collarbone as she types on her laptop, occasionally tilting her head down to give you a kiss.
Your hand reaches out slowly to touch Jenni's skin. You freeze but Jenni doesn't react in any way. A singular finger gently traces over her new tattoo.
Mami put your drawing on her body. Tattoos are forever, you know that and Mami put your drawing on her body forever.
That makes you feel nice.
Of course, the kisses she gives you whenever you complete a full trace of the tattoo is nice too.
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Hello. I have this idea of a Charles and Wolff reader where they’re happy but some crazy merc fan or a mugger somewhat loses it on her and injures her and everyone figures it out a bit late and they’re scared and something full of angst and cute moments later?
A/N: Oooooo love this just be mindful of the warnings below
WARNINGS: ASSUALT AND STALKING YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
You could tell something was off.
Being Toto Wolff's daughter, you were used to a certain level of staring or being even being noticed, but this was different, the feeling of being watched. It was like a sniper was zoned in on you, anytime you moved the eyes followed you.
Maybe it was a reporter, your mind tried to reason, but you knew this wasn't right. It wasn't the normal, and you didn't see a single camera or phone in the restaurant. "You, okay?" Jumping out of your skin, you give Bono a weary smile. "Of course, just tired and miss Charles," Bono hums, knowing your boyfriend was at a different restaurant celebrating with his team.
"Do you want to go home, sugar, you can." Your father smiles, placing a comforting arm on your shoulder. The hair on the back of your neck stands as your head whips around, but no one is staring or much less paying attention to your table. "I'm going crazy," You whisper, Toto hums, but you wave him off. "Nothing, Papa. I'm going to head back to my hotel room, okay?" You whisper in German, Toto smiling and kissing your cheek.
"Text me when you get there safely, and Charles as well," Nodding you stand on shaking legs as you push through the craziness and out into the cool spring air. Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Making the walk back, you feel that buzzing and cold dread settle into your skin.
Looking back just a little bit you see a shadow moving behind you. Whipping back around you speed up but you hear the feet behind you grow louder. Taking a turn you start to run, but yelp when large hands pull you back. A scream is ripped from your throat, bag lying in the street as feel kicks and punches land all over your body.
"Traitorous whore!" The person spits, and kicks you one last time, vision growing fuzzy, you see them walk away as your eyes close.
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"Toto, I'm sure she's fine. Her and Charles are probably, having some quiet time." Bono tries to reason, but Toto shakes his head no. "Charles just had a video posted by fans of him talking to them outside. He's not with her, something isn't right." Toto throws the doors open as he takes the walk back to the hotel. Bono grumbles but follows as he swears nothing is wrong.
Making the turn, Toto comes to a hault, seeing your purse lying on the ground. "No, Y/N? SUGAR?" Toto screams, as he rushes around looking for you. Getting to the alleyway, Toto feels his heart stop, as he sees your crumbled body. "NO!"
-----------------
Charles wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to see your eyes as you lie in the bed beaten and bloody. "How did no one notice?" Charles whispers, running his fingers over your skin, voice tight and cold. "We're sorry, we thought she was back at the hotel with you," Bono whispers, but Charles scuffs.
A groan passes your lips which has Charles springing up and looking down at you. "Hey, hey take it easy," You smile hearing that warm caramel voice of Charles. "Hey?" You whisper and Charles leans down, humming as you smile a little wider. "Should take up boxing," Charles groans bumping your heads which has you giggle but then groan in pain.
"Fuck the boxing, we're going american style and getting you a gun," Charles whispers, which has a wet laugh pass your lips. "Maybe Leo can become an attack dog," You joke, just not wanting to think about what happened. Charles giggles, kissing your lips and smiling down at you, "He already terrorizes our ankles, anyone will run from that." Charles joins you, knowing this helped you.
"Hey, they found the guy, some pyscho ass fan. Been arrested," Bono whispers, popping his head in. "Thanks Bono," Charles whispers and traces soft patterns on your arms knowing it calms you. "When can I go home?" Charles smiles, placing one last kiss on your lips. "In two days, then we can just eat ice cream," You smile and kiss him back.
"Not, your ice cream though, I need some real shit," Charles gasps, and you giggle as you see the betrayal on his face. "Excuse you, I'd have you know my ice cream is real," You snort but make a face of pain as it caused your ribs to hurt.
"Okay, maybe one thing of it," Charles shakes his head as your face turns somber and eyes heavy. "I love you," Charles smiles, "I love you,"
#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 scenario#f1 angst#tw: stalking#tw: assault#f1 blurb#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc angst#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 one shot#cl16 x y/n
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a new birthday tradition | jack hughes
warnings: extreme domination, spanking, spit kink, cockwarming, hair pulling, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, degradation (a bit), established!relationship
pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader
summary: fem!reader proposes a new birthday tradition to jack (based on the request: "jack hughes spanking and spit kink pls")
wc: 2787
“Birthday boy,” you sing-song, tracing Jack’s nose.
Your touch rouses Jack from his nap. He was sleeping on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work, having fallen asleep from boredom. It’s normal for Jack to fall asleep in the middle of the day, so this little touch has become part of your everyday routine.
“Hi, babydoll,” you greet when Jack blinks his way awake.
He finds you in his eyeline and sighs, the corners of his lips turning up. “Hi,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness.
“You know what I was thinking about today?” You ask, smoothing back Jack’s hair. He nuzzles his face into your palm, dropping a kiss onto your skin.
“What?”
“There’s a birthday tradition that I thought you might like.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d put a little twist on it.”
Jack cocks his head to the side. “What is it?” He asks, voice wary. He immediately thinks of the first time Quinn told him that his birthday cake smelled like something but he couldn’t figure out what, and Jack leaned down to take a sniff, and Quinn shoved his head into the frosting. He’d rather eat a birthday cake than shove his face into it.
You drop your head so you’re whispering in his ear. “Birthday spankings.”
Jack pulls away from you, looking affronted. “You’re not spanking me.”
You roll your eyes. “Duh, dummy,” you drawl. “When have I ever been the one to spank you? Obviously, you get to spank me. One for every year you’ve been alive, plus one for luck.”
“Oh,” Jack replies. “Yeah, that could be fun.”
You roll your eyes for a second time. “Could you be less enthusiastic about it? You love my ass. You love spanking me. ‘Yeah, that could be fun?’”
Jack shrugs. “I prefer to spank you when you’re being a brat. This is, like, a gift.”
You blanch. You stare at him. Jack stares back. You blink at him slowly and set your jaw, your mouth straightening into an annoyed line. Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and pull your blouse over your head, drawing Jack’s eyes to your lacy red bra and the swell of your breasts. His hands twitch in his lap and he raises one to set it on your hip, to pull you back down to him, but you step out of reach.
“Where’s your sling?” You ask, toeing off your shoes and kicking them away.
“In the bedroom where I left it,” Jack says, snarky. He hates the sling. The angle causes his arm to fall asleep and he hates the numbness. It’s not like he’s moving his shoulder or hurting it any more– he’s going to rehab and PT, working with the best trainers in the NHL. He doesn’t want to wear his dreaded sling on his birthday.
You take off to the bedroom, returning shortly after with Jack’s sling. You hold it out to him with an expectant look on your face.
Jack groans, but puts it on nonetheless. He glares at you once his arm is properly situated in his sling, his arm already prickling with discomfort. “You know I only have to wear this thing for like two more weeks,” he points out begrudgingly. “And the doctors said I don’t have to wear it all the time.”
You unbutton your pants and lower them, again drawing Jack’s eyes to the matching red thong you wore today, planning for him to see you like this. “That doesn’t mean you can take it off whenever you want,” you tell him. “We decided that you’d wear it when you weren’t doing anything. You’re sitting on the couch. You’re not doing anything.”
“I was napping.”
“‘I was napping,’” you repeat, mocking him. “What if you had laid on your arm wrong and set yourself back a few weeks?”
Jack’s nostrils flare at your words. “I didn’t.”
“Yeah, but you could have rolled over in your sleep. I don’t want you to have to miss out on pre-season stuff because you were reckless with your shoulder, Jack.”
“I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I’m also not a child, I know when I’m pushing myself too much. You’re being overbearing.”
“I’m trying to take care of you.”
“You’re acting like I’m helpless. I’m not fucking helpless just because I had surgery.”
You rejoin Jack on the couch and his eyes find your cleavage again, but he tears his gaze away from your breasts in order to continue this argument.
“You’re the one who pouts about your shoulder whenever I’m around to try and get attention from me. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” you argue.
With each one of your statements, you play Jack like a fiddle. He said it was easier to spank you when you were acting like a brat, so act like a brat you will.
“Yeah, but you know when I’m just trying to get attention. You play into it every time, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”
“You’re so fucking stubborn.”
Jack glares at you. “You only say that because you’re losing this argument.”
You lean forward, “accidentally” pushing your breasts together for Jack to see. He gulps, eyes flickering down then back up to your face. He tries to steel his face, but doesn’t do a great job.
“I’m not losing this argument,” you scoff. “You know I’m right. You’re just being difficult because you hate the sling. If I called your doctors right now, they’d tell us that you need to wear the sling more often.”
You move forward again, this time crawling over Jack’s lap until you’re sprawled over him completely, ass up for him to see.
Jack’s free hand palms one of your cheeks, resting on the skin. His thumb barely touches the lace of your thong where the fabric disappears.
You throw a glance over your shoulder and offer Jack a dazzling, smug smile. “Was that bratty enough for you?”
It dawns on Jack that you’ve goaded him into this, his hand itching to teach you a lesson still, even though it was a fake argument. He grins, letting out a little laugh. His head drops with the laugh and he pats your ass, frustratingly gentle.
“You got me, huh?” He asks.
“You’re so easy,” You reply, giggling.
Jack slaps your ass for that, barely a spank.
“That's one,” you tease. “Twenty two more.”
Jack closes his eyes and tries to bite back a smile. He tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. “Plus one for luck,” he adds. “Don’t forget that one.”
“Oh, how could I forget,” you say. You raise your hips and wiggle them invitingly, drawing Jack’s eyes. “You should punish me for it.”
Jack brings his hand down on your ass again, harder this time. “So annoying.”
“That’s two.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jack laughs, bringing his hand down again.
You don’t– you continue to count and moan and each time you make noise, Jack spanks you again. His hand moves more harshly with each drop. Your skin slowly grows more and more red, starting to match your red underwear. It grows sore, but Jack doesn’t stop spanking you until he reaches the 24th. You’re a moaning mess, whining and squirming in Jack’s lap, eyes wet with unshed tears by the time Jack blows cool air over your skin. All of your wiggling over his lap caused him to grow hard while administering his birthday spankings, and he knows that if he brought his fingers down to your cunt, he’d find that you’re soaking through your panties.
Jack pulls you up but the straps of your bra, the elastic snapping back against your skin when he lets go. You arch your back and whimper, climbing onto Jack’s lap to straddle him.
Jack smiles, wiping the wetness from your eyes with his thumb. “How do you feel, pretty girl?” He asks, bringing his thumb down to toy with your bottom lip. He moves it and, like a puppeteer, mimics your voice to speak for you. “So good, you always give me exactly what I need, I love you soooo much, Jacky.”
You laugh wetly, pushing his hand away. “You’re such a loser.”
Jack furrows his brow, humming in a disapproving way. “Now that’s just mean. Maybe I should spank you some more.”
You pout, glaring at Jack. “Yeah, and make me bleed? I don't think so.”
“How about this,” Jack muses. “Wanna give me another present?”
You nod, fingers tracing his clavicle.
“Get on your knees.”
Jack helps you down, kneeling prettily between his legs. You sit back on your heels and look up at your boyfriend, waiting for his next move.
“Go ahead and take me out, honey,” Jack encourages, lifting his hips so you can work his shorts and underwear down his legs. His cock springs up and bounces back, pretty and weeping from his arousal. You go to take him in your mouth, but Jack stops you. “No, no. Warm me. I'm gonna watch a little TV and if you’re good, I’ll fuck your throat.”
You melt, feeling yourself grow so warm and wet that you might honestly drip onto the floor if you get any more turned on. You go to take Jack’s cock in your mouth, but he stops you again, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You look into his gaze for a moment before his eyes drop to your mouth. You open your mouth, waiting for Jack to feed you his cock instead of taking it yourself.
Instead, he drops a line of spit onto your tongue and closes your mouth. You swallow, eyes wide and blinking up at him. It’s humiliating and so good, making your head a little foggy and your knees spread a little wider.
Jack’s eyes find your knees against the floor, your wet cunt. He purses his lips, smiling with his tongue against his front teeth, looking devilish. He knocks a pillow to the floor with his slinged arm, eyes hooded and daring.
“Pick that up,” he tells you.
You move like a machine, grabbing the pillow and ready to put it back up on the couch, to cushion his injured arm. Jack uses said arm to block you.
“Why don’t you put that between your legs,” Jack suggests, voice bored. When your eyes go wide and you freeze, staring up at him, Jack smirks. His voice drops, low and seductive. “I see how wet you are, baby. I’m giving you something to grind against while you warm me. It might not be my cock, but it’ll be good enough, right?”
You could come on the spot, feeling lost. With aborted movements, you place the pillow between your knees and press down on it, eyes fluttering at the friction.
“Good girl,” Jack praises. He fists his cock and taps the head of it against your lips. “Open up, baby. Let me take that dirty mouth.”
He thrusts his cock into your mouth, waiting until your throat adjusts around him to grab the remote and flick on the TV.
You stare up at him, breathing through your nose. You rest your head on his thigh, the downy hair of his legs tickling your skin. You crinkle your nose, but keep your mouth fastened around Jack’s cock. Jack smiles down at you before turning his attention to the TV, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.
He knows what happens when he tangles his hands in your hair, especially when his cock is in your mouth. It drives you to start moving your hips against the pillow, eyes fluttering when the seam of the pillow catches against your clit. You’re trying to keep your head still around his cock, but it’s hard to do when you’re chasing your own release.
Jack’s fingers tighten around your hair, tugging at the roots. You moan around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock.
“You can’t even last five minutes before you move, huh, baby?” Jack asks. He puts on a mask of disappointment, spurring you on when you open your eyes and plead with him.
Your hips move faster, the pillow good but not quite enough to satisfy you. You whine, blinking up at Jack. Still trying not to move your mouth, you flex your tongue against him.
Jack licks his lips, eyes trailing up and down your body. He’s taking you in, the way your cheeks are flushed and your hands are grasping the pillow beneath you, the way your hips are dragging in tilted bursts, trying to maintain the pleasure of your clit hitting the item between your legs. Jack bites his lip as he looks at the wet stain that you’ve left on the pillow.
He gathers your hair into a ponytail, twisting the locks in his hand and pulling. You let out a cry of pleasure, losing track of your volume, too overcome with pleasure. Jack’s pull tips you toward orgasm, your hole flexing around nothing and feeling neglected and empty.
“Jack,” you moan, his name garbled around his cock.
The uninterested look in Jack’s eyes contrasts the slight smile on his lips as he pushes his hips forward into your mouth, then pulls back. He starts to fuck you slowly, but quickly loses his control when you bring one of your hands up to his thigh, fingernails digging into his skin.
His lip curls with a hiss, his pace increasing. You’re a mess, completely desperate beneath him. Your eyes are shining with tears as Jack uses your throat, his thrusts harsh and completely self-indulgent. You gag around him, your throat constricting, and Jack growls. He pushes your head down, your nose brushing against his pelvis and he releases into your mouth with a groan. His come paints your throat with white spurts and Jack uses his grip on your hair to pull you off of him.
A line of spit connects your mouth to his tip and Jack watches your eyes grow heavy, sated, when you swallow his come.
“Gonna come for me?” Jack asks.
Your eyes find his and you nod.
Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weigh next to nothing.
The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs. You’re boneless, quivering between Jack’s legs. He pulls you up onto his lap and coos at you, snaking a hand between your legs to rub over your clit with a teasing finger.
“Think you can give me another?”
“Jack,” You whimper out, shying away from his insistent fingers, but they just follow you and press into you wherever you go.
Jack moves yout thong to the side, burying his middle and ring finger into your pussy and flexing his fingers until you’re squealing from the contact. He pushes his thumb into your clit and you grind down, wincing from the overstimulation but unable to stop chasing the pleasure.
“Look at my baby,” Jack marvels. “So pretty, so perfect. So slutty, huh, baby? You beg me to spank you, you fuck against a pillow until you come, and now you’re taking my fingers. So greedy. I’ve spoiled you.” He curls his fingers inside of you, relishing at the whimper that he steals from your lips with each of his movements.
You come again, the heat of it washing over you. You’re helpless to it, feeling like the orgasm is just rushing through you. You shudder on Jack’s lap, your wetness dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of the couch below you. Jack draws his fingers out slowly, not to overstimulate you even further, and kisses you softly.
“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Jack asks against your lips.
You nod, voice soft. You can barely move, so comfortable on his lap, feeling his skin against yours. “Happy birthday, darling,” You agree, and kiss him again.
“Is this going to become a real birthday tradition?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “Me spanking you?”
You hum, considering it. “Maybe not when we’re seventy-five and wrinkly.”
“This ass?” Jack reaches behind you and squeezes. “This ass isn’t ever getting wrinkly, not on my watch.”
“Okay, Jacky,” you snort with laughter. “Whatever you say.”
notes: *in a marilyn monroe voice* happy birthday... mr. president <3
this was meant to be a blurb. a short one. for jack's birthday. it did not STAY a blurb. that's my bad. i have a tendency to go overboard. hoping y'all enjoyed!
#puck luck's fics#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#jack hughes fanfiction#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl x y/n#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#jh86#andy writes anything🍄
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can I get the "too much communication" with jack?
I think that's what your last post was for 😭
shut up (with affection!) | jh86
sum: in which jack likes to hear himself talk
prompt: too much communication (💀)
warnings: smut, angst, fluff ☺️ use of y/n :/ ,use of she/her pronouns for reader, short
a/n: help yes, im sorry i wasn’t clear with what i wanted but if you haven’t noticed im pretty small on hockeyblr 😔 so i didn’t think anyone would actually ask but omg so happy you did ❤️ also not sure why im seeing this decades later.
—
LIGHT shone through the curtains in Y/N’s bedroom, though that wasn’t what woke her up.
An arm was slung across her waist, legs were tangled with hers, a face was buried in the crevice of her neck, and soft lips were moving up and down her shoulder. She felt something go off in her stomach. She could get used to this.
“Awake, angel?” Jack’s rough morning voice reached Y/N’s ears and could’ve just melted right then. He had been with her for close to ten months now; meaning they had practically moved in with eachother, she was at every home game, he was at every soccer match, she had a drawer at his, he had a toothbrush at hers. They were slowly intertwining in each other’s lives and neither of them wanted to stop anytime soon.
And then he started.
The endless rambling that half annoyed, half endeared Y/N.
“Wait no- I mean that I should use a different word instead of pretty because you’re so many things and you like when i use long words, don’t you ? I should-”
“Jack, my love, slow down,” Y/N says, facing him and cupping his cheek. His hair is tousled, eyes droopy, bottom lip jutted out, and brows furrowed. He’s shirtless and the sunlight bathes him in a soft golden light. Her heart skips a beat as she assures him that complimenting her in any way would melt her even if it was the same thing, every day, for the rest of their lives.
—
The room was dark and hot and the bed rocked with Jack’s movements. He had one hand loose around Y/N’s throat and the other supporting her leg that was thrown over his shoulder.
It was all going fine until
“Y’know what Trev told me the other day.”
Y/N’s eyes snapped open. What the fuck???
His hair was falling in his eyes and a thin sheet of sweat covered his body. He looked so good and was doing so well.
“Jack? What-” she stopped short when he thrusted particularly roughly making her jaw drop and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Jack wasn’t phased though.
“He- told me how-oh fuck I’m so close, baby-” Y/N quickly shut him up by yanking his mouth down to hers. She really didn’t want to hear how fucking Zegras did whatever in her current position.
—
Y/N stood off to the side as Jack abruptly wraps up the post game interview after giving curt responses. She raised her eyebrows; normally it could get hard to not make him overshare.
Jack had already showered and changed into a delicious suit that was for sure coming off as soon as they got home.
“Hi, angel.” Y/N got on her tip toes to press a soft kiss against Jack’s lips. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “Hey.”
It was short and quiet and so unlike Jack (even after a loss) and she hated it.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Y/N reached forward to cup his cheek and lightly caresses it with her thumb. He leans against her hand and his eyes droop.
“Nothin’, sweets. Just tired.” Y/N knew there had to be more, she could tell by the way his fingers were fiddling with eachother and the almost unnoticeable clinch of his eyebrows.
“C’mon, baby, talk to me,” Y/N softly murmurs, Jack’s new behavior doesn’t feel natural at all. He was so full of energy all the time (definitely because of the three hour naps) that she didn’t even have to match it if she was tired; he had enough for both of them.
“D’you-,” he pauses and steps back, removing his arms from her and running a quick hand through his hair. “Do you think I talk too much? Or I over share? Does it bother you?” His brows furrow deeper and Y/N’s heart stutters. She understood why he got so closed off all of a sudden. Her tough, strong boyfriend had such a sweet heart she could cry.
“Oh hon, well yes you do but it’s never bothered me. I actually really love it. You’re able to talk so much all the time and there’s nothing I love more than the sound of your voice.” Y/N watches as Jack’s expression softens. She steps closer and weaves her arms around him from the inside of his suit jacket.
“I love that you’re so expressive. I love how you just say anything no matter, I love how-” Y/N pauses. The three words dancing on the tip of her tongue, waiting and anticipating. She takes a deep breath and sneaks a glance at Jack, who had the hint of a smile that reached his eyes.
“I love you.”
He goes limp in her arms.
“Y/N I-”
“One second. Let me finish.” Y/N steps back and fully looks into his eyes. “And I know you love me too. You know why, angel? Because you tell me every single day. Every sweet nothing, all the random babbling about how I’m so sweet to you at any given time, gave me enough courage to say it right now.”
Jack looked like he could cry; Y/N didn’t get the chance to see it though, because of the soul crushing hug he just pulled her into.
“I love you so much more.”
“I might get dry as fuck during sex though.”
“Yeah? Wanna take me up on that?”
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being unable to keep their eyes off of them please??
Eddie wants to get the hell out of here.
He feels kind of bad about it, because Bobby and Athena throw a great barbecue, and any other day of the week he’d love to grab a beer and settle in for as long as they’ll have him. Any other day of the year, really—
Just not the same day Buck kissed him.
He’d always imagined that if he ever scraped enough resolve together to try something with Buck, it would happen in the heat of the moment. After a close call on a rescue, maybe, or at a bar after a shift sometime, when he has just enough alcohol in him to push past the nagging doubts in his mind.
He’d always imagined that if anything ever happened, it would be because he took that first step. He could, when he was feeling hopeful, imagine Buck would be into it, but it had never even crossed his mind that Buck might want him enough to be the one to cross the invisible line between friends and something more.
Only—
Two hours ago, he stood in the firehouse parking lot and watched Buck pace and forth in the artificially bright glow of a streetlamp for all of thirty seconds before drawing to a stop right in front of him, toe to toe across the faded outline of a parking space.
“I’m going to do something,” Buck said, the warmth of his exhale ghosting across Eddie’s skin. “And you can tell me if I’m wrong. But—” he hooked one finger in the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans, tugging slightly, and the movement danced like lightning down Eddie’s spine.
“—I don’t think I’m wrong.”
And he tugged on the belt loop again, pulling Eddie closer into his space, and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.
It seemed to last a lifetime, and it was over far too soon. Buck pulled back, careful, drawing a ragged breath, and Eddie leaned into chase him and found Buck grinning against his lips.
“Not wrong, then?” Buck murmured, and it took Eddie a moment to remember what Buck had said just before.
“Definitely not wrong,” he breathed. The words were half-lost in Buck’s mouth but he must have understood them anyway, because he laughed, bright and clear, before pushing Eddie up against the car behind him to kiss him again.
It was only when Buck’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket so that Eddie felt it against his own thigh, that they remembered the barbecue. And that they’d promised to bring ice.
So now Eddie’s here, and for the first time he can remember he desperately wants to leave.
He and Buck hadn’t really talked about it, so he’s trying to act normal. Which is to say he’s trying to act like he doesn’t want to walk across Bobby and Athena’s backyard and grab Buck by the collar to drag him in for another kiss. Or to demand what the fuck it means.
He would describe himself as moderately successful.
But in Eddie’s defence, if the rest of them knew the situation he doesn’t think they could blame him for the way his eyes keep getting drawn to Buck no matter where he is, like the universe is shining a spotlight on him. It’s not his fault Buck’s laugh lights up the room and he can’t help but look.
It’s not his fault that Buck catches him looking, sometimes, and smiles a smile that says he’s thinking about what happened in the parking lot.
A smile that says he’s thinking about doing it again.
And it—well, maybe it is his fault when he grins back, his face trying to settle on something somewhere between wanting and bashful, but there are extenuating circumstances. He is, after all, only one man.
Overall, Eddie’s pretty sure nobody could blame him for the fact that he wants to get the hell out of here.
Just then, Hen sidles up to where he’s leaning against the kitchen island and settles in next to him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms.
“You should take your man home,” she says.
Eddie flushes, and she laughs.
“You’re not being particularly subtle,” she says. “Either of you. I don’t know what happened exactly—” she raises a hand when Eddie tries to open his mouth “—and I don’t need to know. But you should take him home before it happens again on Bobby and Athena’s patio.”
Eddie’s face feels so warm he’s surprised he can’t see cartoon heat lines wafting off his cheeks.
Hen laughs again, gentler this time. “No one’s judging you, Eddie,” she says, and nudges him with her elbow. “I remember what it was like in the beginning. So go, take him home. I know you want to.”
“I—yeah,” Eddie says, and lets himself grin. “I really do.”
He doesn’t need to look for Buck, because he already knows where he is. He makes his way across the room, through their gathered friends and family, and over to where Buck is talking to Chimney. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as he does it, but Hen said it was obvious anyway, so he takes a deep breath and stands behind Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Buck says, breathy with surprise but his cheeks pink with pleasure.
“Hen said I should take my man home,” Eddie says, and makes a concerted effort not to look at Chimney. He focuses instead on Buck’s cheek against his, and the way it crinkles when he smiles.
“Did she?” Buck says. “I guess we should listen to the captain, then.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie murmurs. They slip through the room, and Eddie tries to avoid Hen’s knowing look as they duck out of the front door without bothering with goodbyes.
As soon as the door closes, Eddie grabs Buck by the hips and pushes him against it, crowding into his space. “This is all I’ve been thinking about all night.”
“It’s only been two hours,” Buck says.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than two hours,” Eddie says, and watches Buck’s eyes go dark. Then he grins. “Besides, do you want to nitpick, or do you want to kiss me?”
“I can multitask,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs and kisses him for it, and for a moment the world narrows to just the two of them, wrapped up in each other against Bobby’s front door.
“Actually,” Buck murmurs, a moment or three later, when Eddie’s forehead rests against Buck’s and both their breaths come a little heavy. “I wanna change my answer.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “To what?”
“I want you to take me home.”
send me a blossoming romance prompt 🌸
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a/n challengers changed me, so have this drabble <3
----
the soft sound of rubber soles making their way across the court startles you more than it should. it's bad enough that you're running so late you had to change in the library bathroom and that you're still putting on your tennis shoes. you don't need anything else making you seem un-together.
"you know..." patrick's closer than you thought he'd be, his racket dangling by his side, just barely scraping the ground you're sitting on. you let your fingers rest between your ankle and the back of your shoe as you look up at him. "you took so long we started to think you were standing us up."
the sentence feels lighthearted, but that doesn't keep unease from prodding at you. your friendship with patrick and art is still new enough that the wrongness of being late feels sharper.
"oh, no," you shake your head slightly in an attempt to emphasize your point. you straighten an arm to rest it on your bent knee. "no, i--the lunch with my sponsors ran long, and i had to change and--" patrick lets you ramble as he bends a knee, slowly moving to sit across from you. he sets down his racket with all the patience in the world, watching you with a lightness behind his eyes that radiates good humor. "and you were joking."
he leans back on one arm before lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "a little, but that sponsorship thing..." patrick angles his head to one side in what feels like mock contemplation. "that sounds important, we should consider ourselves lucky that we made it onto your schedule."
his tone leaves your face feeling a little warmer. you let your attention fall back to your shoe. "no, not like that at all."
"well, i feel lucky," he says, "art, do you feel lucky?"
you turn your neck to look back at art. he's closer than you remember, the toe of his shoe so close to your leg that you'd only have to stretch a little to reach him. he lets out soft sigh before sitting next to patrick. "extremely."
the word borders on flat, a pinch of something you can't quite interpret bleeding into the syllables. his attention shifts away from you and towards patrick. maybe you weren't meant to fully understand. after all, they're life long best friends. and while normally encroaching on that kind of dynamic makes you feel like an intruder, with them, everything's always been comfortable.
"don't." you refocus on your shoes, pulling the laces taut between your fingers. "i'm the lucky one, you guys are great."
"and you're amazing." art breathes out the compliment in a way that feels concrete. real. the words don't feel like a necessary step in a polite exchange, they feel genuine. it's the kind of unabashed praise that's hard not to fluster at. "seriously--your backhand, i've never seen anything like it."
you let yourself smile, ignoring the warmth crawling up your chest. "thanks."
before you can dwell on the exchange, patrick leans forward. his fingers carefully bend around your ankle. patrick watches you expectantly as he extends a leg. you release your laces, letting him lift your foot onto his lower thigh.
"patrick."
"what?" patrick's gaze briefly flickers towards art as he crosses your shoe laces. "i'm helping out our girl." he tugs on your laces, neatly looping them. "ignore him, he's jealous."
you squint at him curiously, feeling like you're missing out on some kind of joke. "really? you think he wants to tie my other shoe?"
"i think," patrick secures a snug knot into place, "he wants to do whatever you want him to."
patrick settles a hand over your ankle. you let out a sound that's more a puff of air than a true laugh. "shut up." you lift your foot in a pretend kick. patrick makes a show of releasing your leg, holding up his hand as if to convey innocence. you pull your leg back. "don't make him sound so lame."
"yeah," art echoes, leaning towards patrick, "don't make me sound so lame."
patrick grins as he shoves art's shoulder. he pushes himself to stand with no warning. "c'mon, let's play."
you reach over for your other shoe before bending your leg. it takes no time for you to pull on but before you can adjust the laces, art's by your side. he pulls on your laces until your shoe feels secure. "too tight?"
with the way he's studying you, it takes you a moment too long to react. you shake your head once. "n-no, that's good."
he angles his head downwards, attention returning to your laces. "good."
art smiles as he squeezes your upper calf in an almost startling display of affection. he pushes himself to stand before offering you his hand.
——
lmk if you liked this, i have so many thoughts about them
#challengers x reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#mike faist x reader#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#josh oconnor x reader#challengers fic#x reader#art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
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Rainworld fans when they don’t know how to interact with a female character without calling her a mother or a bitch: “yeah moons too boring :/// I like when she’s a bitch! Let her be mean!”
Moon very rarely displays anything beyond (Understandable) bitterness at her situation and some passive aggression. If you want to make aus or explore an alternate canon where she DOES act more “bitchy” go ahead. I support women’s wrongs. But I find it very disheartening that people see Moon’s sheer willpower, that she chooses to be kind again and again and again, as a weakness. As a “wrong” reaction to the situation she was put in.
I’m not gonna deny that some of her politeness is a hold over from etiquette back in the Ancients’ day. But I simply do not think her peace and kindness is wholly a weakness, or something subconscious she is unaware of. (OR uninteresting. In a world that is DESIGNED to make you feel small, a world designed to be unkind, having a character who chooses to be the opposite is SO interesting imo.) And I do not exactly think reading her angry moments as “bitchy” is a normal thing to do with the only prominent female character in the whole game.
#rain world#looks to the moon#rw lttm#this is more of a vague post than anything I’ve ever posted#if you posted a take like this and read this: I don’t hate you or anything#this is phrased in a very frustrated and cynical way but I’m so tired#you are allowed to dislike moon#find her uninteresting#etc#but I simply do not agree with the ‘popular’ reasons for viewing her as such#and I think it’s clear when people view her merely as an extension to a story centering her brother#instead of realizing rain worlds story (esp in vanilla) is very decentralized#just because moon is largely ‘static’ and her arc is less extreme than Pebbles’ is#it doesn’t mean she. doesn’t have one?
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Building Each Other Up Pt. 3
Read Pt. 1 here and Pt. 2 here.
Shane’s POV
‘I'm not kidding, Mark. I wanna swap back,’ I angrily texted. I stared at the screen, waiting for the blue bubble to pop up and signal the message had gone through. Instead, my message popped up green with a little red circle saying ‘Not Delivered.’
“Fuck, did that asshole block me?” I muttered to myself, feeling a surge of anger.
It had been almost two weeks since Mark forced me out of my own body and into his, which meant he had been controlling my body full time for almost a month. At first, I thought I could handle it. And despite the bullshit he pulled, I wanted to trust him. But now, it was clear that he was enjoying my life a little too much.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. It hadn't been the worst experience being in Mark’s body again. I had enjoyed indulging in some cheat foods and cigars I hadn’t been allowing myself, and I still managed to pull girls without much effort (I mean Mark was still a good looking guy). There was even a nostalgic element to being back in his body after so long.
But the bodybuilding competition was tomorrow. I had been working towards this for so long, and the thought of not competing in my own body was infuriating.
Grabbing my phone again, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. "Damn it, Mark! Answer your fucking phone!" I shouted, slamming it down on the counter.
"Okay, well, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands," I muttered to myself.
Mark had mentioned earlier this week that he needed to make more of the potion. He said it was a bit of an involved process, but with the competition coming up, he just didn't have the time. I knew better. I'd made the potion with him a few times, and while it was a bit complicated, it didn't take that long. Maybe two to three hours tops.
"Alright," I said to myself. "It doesn't seem like I'm getting any help from him, so I guess I'll just make some on my own."
After rummaging through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, I found everything I needed. I set up in the kitchen, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and frustration. As I started cooking, memories of the first time we made the potion together came flooding back. We were both so excited about getting me some gains back then.
Following the steps carefully, I mixed the ingredients, heating them just right on the stove. After about two and a half hours, I had a batch of the potion ready. It wasn’t quite the right color – a bit more greenish than usual – but I had followed all the steps correctly.
"Good enough," I said, pouring the potion into a vial.
I made my way over to my apartment, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. Mark had insisted we go about our routines as normally as possible to avoid raising suspicion, but I knew that if I was going to get my body back, I had to act quickly.
As I approached the door, I fished out the vial of potion from my pocket. "No sense in asking him to swap back if he’s been avoiding me," I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and downed the potion in one go, the familiar bitter taste washing over my tongue.
I entered the key code and opened the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear movement in the bedroom, the sound of my own footsteps pacing around. Mentally preparing myself, I quietly made my way towards the noise.
I run in there and dive into my back. Except, once inside, I realize immediately that something is wrong. I'm not in control. I'm just a passenger in this body. Panic sets in as I shout in my head, "Mark, you fucker, what did you do?" But there's no reply. Shit, he can't hear me.
I feel myself walk over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Except it isn't me. It's some random kid. Who the fuck is this, I think to myself.
Not only did I make the potion wrong, I jumped into some random guy. And who the hell is he? Why is he alone in my apartment? My mind races with confusion and dread.
I hear the door open again and watch as my old self – Mark in my body – walks into the room.
"Hey babe," he says, his voice filled with affection as he pulls me in for a tender kiss. I'm shocked, but I can't do anything to resist.
"How was the gym?" I hear my body ask, its voice sounding strangely detached from my own thoughts.
"Oh, great," Mark responds, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I think I'm in great shape for the competition." He flexes his muscles for emphasis. "But I'm still feeling a bit stressed," he adds, smirking at me seductively, walking to the bathroom and quickly indulging in some pump selfies.
I feel myself following him into the bathroom, my body moving on its own accord. I know what’s about to happen Panic sets in as I try to turn off my subconscious, but it's no use, I'm trapped.
I watch as my body turns on the water, and Mark looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Before we get in, I know how much you like my post-workout musk," he says with a smirk.
Despite my internal protests, I also feel a strange sense of anticipation. Mark pulls my head towards his armpit. I take a deep inhale and then begin to lick, finding it surprisingly tolerable. The taste is musky and slightly salty, but not as overpowering as I feared.
Once the shower is nice and steamy, we step in, enveloped in the warmth and the mist swirling around us. My new body takes the lead, its hands gliding over Mark’s – I mean my body’s ��� skin, caressing every curve and contour with the gentle pressure of the sudsy soap and the softness of the loofah. His muscles relax under my touch, and a contented sigh escapes his lips as I lavish attention on him.
Then, it's Mark's turn to return the favor. My body tries to make itself look as sexy as possible for him.
He turns me around, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he runs the loofah over my skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands caressing me, focusing on the way his fingers linger on my ass.
When he squeezes and playfully slaps my ass, I'm taken aback by the surge of arousal that washes over me. My heart races as I feel myself growing excited at his touch, unable to control the growing heat between my legs.
"Fuck," I feel my voice mutter, the intensity of the moment clearly overwhelming the guy in control of this body. If this didn’t fell so good, I would’ve realized that I’d never felt aroused by another guy when I had controlled Mark’s body
As Mark's hard cock pressed against my eager hole, a jolt of conflicting emotions surged through me. “I can’t be here for this,” I thought to myself, trying and failing again to retreat to my subconscious.
Then, finally, I felt the exhilarating sensation of him entering me.
Despite my initial resistance, a wave of unexpected pleasure washed over me, leaving me stunned by the intensity of the experience.
"Fuck," I thought, momentarily forgetting who I even actually was.
The sensation of being filled by my former cock was overwhelming. I find myself lost in the moment, my body eagerly responding to his every touch and thrust. I can’t deny the pleasure coursing through my veins as he drives into me.
As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, I feel myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my mind consumed by the raw intensity of the experience.
“Unghhhh Shane” I hear my voice moan uncontrollably.
That definitely got a reaction out of him. He starts thrusting into me even deeper.
“Wait,” I thought, “he’s not just enjoying this kids admittedly built body … is he getting off on being me?”
“Fuck yeah, keep saying daddy’s name” he replies.
“Fuck me harder Shane,” I hear my voice beg.
Finally, with a guttural groan, Mark reaches his peak, his hot cum flooding into me, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I feel myself clenching around him, my own release echoing his as we both ride the waves of pleasure to completion.
As we catch our breath, Mark pulls away, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Basking in the physical afterglow, I find myself struggling to come to terms with what just happened.
“That was another great one, babe. Your ass is so incredible,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.
“Thanks, babe,” my body responds automatically, a smile forming on my lips as I lean in for another kiss under the warm cascade of water.
I had a million questions still racing around my head – “who is this kid”, “why can’t he hear me”, “how can I get my body back” – but one thought dominates above all others: When can I do that again?
To Be Continued ...
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have you ever written something where shy reader is too anxious to tell someone they got her order wrong or tell the lady at the nail salon she didn’t exactly like the color/shape
no but omg this is soooo real
getting your nails done was always fun—though sometimes, you leave with something completely different than what you came in wanting.
you found it hard to speak up to anyone, your nail tech included. instead you'd nod politely and smile sweetly when they were doing your nails.
it was just nails—it didn't matter if they were a little shorter than you wanted, or if the pink was a little more bubblegum than baby. they looked pretty and you avoided someone getting upset with you—you considered it a win-win situation.
and it was beginning to work itself out—you had discovered your favorite nail lady, the one who always understood what you wanted and didn't make you nervous when you'd show her the picture you'd brought for inspiration. and going today, you were expecting your appointment to be with her—like always.
until you found out she was home sick. normally you'd wait—but you were at the salon today specially since you were going to a party with rafe tonight, and the idea of going with your bare and currently very ugly nails seemed completely out of the question.
and even worse—rafe had brought you. you didn't want to turn to him and tell him to take you back home, not when he'd driven you all the way here and agreed to sit with you even though you're sure he doesn't want to.
so you suck it up—you show the new tech your photo, a pretty pink and white french tip with some bows and flowers, and hope for the best. she's doing fine, it looks like the picture for the most part.. except your nails are looking more square than round, and it's a little too long for your taste. she's about to start painting, telling you to go wash your hands.
you get up, heart thudding uncomfortably. you hate this about yourself—hate it worse than anyone else could. the nail lady couldn't care less if you ask for them shorter and rounder, but you can't bring yourself to do it. instead you stare down at your nails in the sink and feel like you might start crying.
rafe has a sixth sense—he can always tell when you're feeling upset. you don't know how he does it, just that he does.
all he had noticed was that you had stopped smiling back at him every few minutes about half way into the second hand getting done—and then just now, when you got up, you didn't look at him on your way to the sink.
rafe follows you there, a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. he's got a candy in his mouth, plucked from the bowl they keep near the entrance.
"what's wrong?" he comes out a little raspy, his tongue red.
"nothing," you reply, too quickly. you look up at him with your watery eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.
"c'mon, kid. what is it? someone say something?" he asks, turning around to where you were sitting and the two techs in the vicinity.
"no, no. nothing. it's just-" again, you hate this. you don't know why it's so hard to find the words, why they just don't want to come out. you swallow it down.
"what? you gotta tell me if you want me to help," he says, quieter, leaning in a little. you feel better immediately when he says it, but you still can't look up at him. you stare down at the too-long, too-square acrylics.
"it's not.. exactly what i wanted. i don't know how to tell them. i don't want them to be upset-"
"is that it?" rafe asks, and you look up quickly, eyes getting teary again. is he mad at you too now? your expression gives you away, lips turning into a sad pout. "baby, she doesn't care. they get paid either way. gotta ask for what you want."
"but i don't want her to-"
"s'okay. i'll tell her. c'mon. don't cry, it's fine."
you follow rafe back—cheeks burning with embarassmnet. bad enough that you can't ever speak up for yourself, now rafe is involved and he probably thinks you're some kind of child-
"stop overthinkin'. it's easy for me to tell her, it's harder for you. so i'll tell her, okay?" looking up at your boyfriend, your ears ring a little. you hear him talk to your tech—you see his mouth moving, maybe making out shorter and she likes round, okay?
you can't hear anything, it feels like there's music in your ears. the tech nods and smiles at you, fixing them and before your very eyes, your nails look exactly how you wanted them to. rafe pulls his chair closer to yours, a hand on your knee.
his words keep repeating in your head—stop overthinking. and like always, you listen to rafe.
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Hey mod, are you okay? It’s been a while since you posted (no judgement!) and I just wanted to see if something was wrong. Love you and I hope you stay strong🫶🏼
Bless you anon! I appreciate you checking in! I don't post a lot of personal updates here, but I have been going through the wringer lately... hough.
Lately I've been battling with anxiety, you know, same as everyone. It's kind of made things that I used to enjoy kind of stressful for me. Everything becomes stressful for me. Even not having things to stress about makes me stressed. I'm at my most Peter Parkeriest, in the worst sort of a way.
I thought it was a brain thing – that it was all in my head. I have a new, stressful job, and a stressful living situation, and some family issues I'm dealing with. It'll pass. So I kind of tried to power through, until my body shut down on me last year. And as it turns out, when I got checked out by the doc, it's not just a brain thing. I have a tumor (her name is Lamar, and she's benign, buuut...) she's producing 5x the normal amount of stress hormone in my body. The doctors think it's insane. I think it's hilarious. I feel like it's some kind of joke.
I've been battling this ridiculous chronic stress for years, thinking it was all in my head, but actually, biologically, I'm an overflowing reservoir of stress, and it's something that can be measured in my bloodstream. And it's been going on for years!
So, lately I've been devoting a lot of time to forcing myself to relax. Doctors orders. I can't get stressed about things. Every day I have to effectively diffuse a bomb. And the bomb is me. I'm so pumped up with involuntary stress, and I have to devote my time to keeping it at a manageable level. And so there are a lot of backflips I have to do to keep myself human right now, and not turn into a bomb.
See... posting to the blog doesn't exactly calm me down. It makes me anxious, most of the time. So I've been telling myself it's okay. Only post when you feel good. You have enough things to worry about, and the blog can't be one another thing to worry about. It can only be for fun. If it doesn't feel like fun, don't do it.
I need to do a million little calming activities to function. The blog used to calm me. But it doesn't, anymore. I still love it, and I still have so many scripts I'm excited to do, but... I just have to be patient with myself, right now. I can't bug my head over something that can wait. It can wait. Right now isn't the time. My health is the most important thing. I can't get that back, if I lose it.
Right now I'm about keeping my head above water. Keeping calm. Doing meditative things, that aren't necessarily productive... (trust me, I am SO upset about not being productive. I miss it a lot) but they force me to take it slow and force me to not worry. I'm learning the banjo (she calms me), and I spend a lot more time in nature, having staring contests with ducks and pigeons, and befriending beetles and bugs.
I'm a very positive person, and I know I'll make it through, and I love myself for all the effort I'm making to keep myself from breaking. Because I know if I didn't force myself to calm down, I could snap like an elastic band. I – I don't want to break, like I did last year. I need to be good to myself. And relaxing is an effort. It takes a lot for me. And certain calming routines work for a little while, and then stop working, and I need to make the effort all over again to find something new. It's kind of insane how much time I need to calm back down again. I remember, once upon a time, it being baseline.
Luckily there's a surgical solution, so hopefully I'll be normal again soon, and there won't be any more bees buzzing in my brain!
I hope you'll all be patient with me! And hopefully I'll make it out alive and stronger than ever, soon.
#mod speaks#a lot of the time when i write ask-spiderpool it feels prophetic somehow.#like my writing somehow knows what's up with me before my body figures it out.#i've written about peter being a timebomb about to explode because of excess hormones in his bloodstream#and now. guess who is a timebomb about to explode because of excess hormones in his bloodstream. its ya boy. me.
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okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten
"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.
The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,
"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.
You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"
"You always work."
"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"
Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."
"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."
Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.
“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.
Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”
You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”
Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”
Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.
Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”
“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.
Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.
A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.
“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.
“Sorry?”
“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”
“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.
“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”
Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”
That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.
A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."
“Sir, I don’t— “
“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”
“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"
Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."
Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.
Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.
After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."
Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.
#🦌anon#🦌request#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#bsd x gender neutral reader#bsd imagines#bsd scenarios#bsd fanfic#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bungo stray dogs fanfic#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu#dazai x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai bsd#dazai imagines#dazai fluff#bsd fluff#beast dazai#beast dazai x reader#bsd beast#smth about this fic makes me hate it. why do i write the way i do.#anyway i posted smth on my side acct (stuffeddeer2) so maybe check that out#he the typa fella to be like. i made too many sandwiches for my picnic accidentally :// guess u gotta come with!#this blanket is too big :( i need someone else to cuddle up under it with me :/ oops!
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hi, i'm a fat person who is just starting to learn to love and appreciate my body and i'm very new to the fat community and all that.
i was wondering if you could maybe explain the term ob*se and how it is a slur. i've never heard anything about it being a slur before(like i said, i'm very new here) and was wondering if you could tell me the origin and history of the word or mayy provide links to resources about it? i want to know more about fat history and how to support my community but i'm unsure of how to start
Welcome!
Obesity is recognized as a slur by fat communities because it's a stigmatizing term that medicalizes fat bodies, typically in the absence of disease. Aside from the word literally translating to "having eaten oneself fat" in latin, obesity (as a medical diagnosis) straight up doesn't actually exist. The only measure that we have to diagnose people with obesity is the BMI, which has been widely proven to be an ineffective measure of health.
The BMI was created in the 1800s by a statistician named Adolphe Quetelet, who did NOT sudy medicine, to gather statistics of the average height and weight of ONLY white, european, upper-middle class men to assist the government in allocating resources. It was never intended as a measure of individual body fat, build, or health.
Quetelet is also credited with founding the field of anthropometry, including the racist pseudoscience of phrenology. Quetelet’s l’homme moyen would be used as a measurement of fitness to parent, and as a scientific justification for eugenics.
Studies have observed that about 30% of so-called "normal weight" people are "unhealthy" whereas about 50% of so-called "overweight" people are “healthy”. Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health results in the misclassification of some 75 million people in the United States alone. "Healthy" lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index.
While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national "obesity" rates, the distinctions can be arbitrary. In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—branding roughly 29 million Americans as "overweight" overnight—to match international guidelines. Articles about the "obesity epidemic" often use this pseudo-statistic to create a false fear mongering rate at which the United States is becoming fatter. Critics have also noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs. Interesting!!!
So... how can you diagnose a person with a disease (and sell them medications) solely based upon an outdated measure that was never meant to indicate health in the first place? Especially when "obesity” has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition?
There is a reason as to why fatness was declared a disease by the NIH in 1998, and some of it had to do with acknowledging fatness as something that is NOT just about a lack of willpower - but that's a very complicated post for another time. You can learn more about it in the two part series of Maintenance Phase titled The Body Mass Index and The Obesity Epidemic.
Aside from being overtly incorrect as a medical tool, the BMI is used to deny certain medical treatments and gender-affirming care, as well insurance coverage. Employers still often offer bonuses to workers who lower their BMI. Although science recognizes the BMI as deeply flawed, it's going to be tough to get rid of. It has been a long standing and effective tool for the oppression of fat people and the profit of the weight loss industry.
More sources and extra reading material:
How the Use of BMI Fetishizes White Embodiment and Racializes Fat Phobia by Sabrina Strings
The Bizarre and Racist History of the BMI by Aubrey Gordon
The Racist and Problematic History of the Body Mass Index by Adele Jackson-Gibson
What's Wrong With The War on Obesity? by Lily O'Hara, et al.
Fearing The Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia by Sabrina Strings
#inbox#resources#the bmi is bullshit#fat liberation#fat acceptance#fat activism#bmi#medical fatphobia
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“Do you like girls?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like boys?”
“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”
I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.
I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates.
This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.
I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.
Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?
But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.
I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.
The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.
Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?
I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.
I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.
Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.
And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.
That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.
It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.
And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.
With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.
And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.
It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.
And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.
This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.
I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.
This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.
Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.
I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.
It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.
I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.
Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.
#i saw the tv glow#a24#aroace#asexuality#asexual#ace experience#this is my overly long#thoughts on my own experiences#and how labels can shift#and that your experiences#aren’t more or less valid#if you choose to say it out loud#or identify as it solely in your head#life’s complicated
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Hi, love your work.
I was thinking a maybe a break up and make up fic with:
Angst Prompt 31. “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”
Fluff prompt 7. “You’re the only person I want to spend my life with”
With Eddie Munson/Y/N Henderson or Y/N Wheeler. A sister from one of the main party.
Eddie and Y/N have been together before season 1. Season 1 happens, Y/N was there. Resulting in her getting closer to Steve or Jonathan, to which Eddie thinks Y/N is cheating on him. Even catches Steve/Jonathan comforting Y/N and gets the wrong idea. They break up. The younger brother of Y/N tells Eddie off and makes him rethink things. Leading to them getting back together.
Thank you so much! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Friends? Or something else?
Y/N Wheeler was quite different from her sister, Nancy. Nancy liked the boy next door vibe, and Y/N liked the rebel bad boy. Y/N didn't see what Nancy ever saw in Steve in the beginning. But he turned out to be a sweet guy when Nancy stomped on his heart.
She felt bad for Steve, but Y/N wanted to spend her free time with Eddie. It was no shock that the two fell for each other. Eddie was exactly her type, the leather, the attitude, and the nasty mouth he kissed her with.
Anyone could see she was smitten with the boy. She kissed the ground he walked on. She would do anything he asked, and do it happily.
It was a shame all he did was doubt her love for him
~~~
Eddie and Steve didn't really get along. Back when Nancy and Steve were together, the sisters loved double dates.
As Y/N fed Eddie fries and shared chocolate milkshakes, Nancy and Steve would argue across from them. Half of their double dates ended with Eddie and Y/N sneaking off.
Eddie didn't like the way Steve carried himself. He thought he was so superior compared to the rest of them and that didn't sit well with Eddie. And Y/N thought the same. She hated the way he treated Eddie.
Y/N just couldn't get along with Steve.
Until Nancy broke up with him and he finally showed his true self.
She couldn't lie. She felt bad for Steve. He showed up to their house with flowers but Nancy was already out with friends. Y/N couldn't leave him outside and alone. She let him in and before she knew it she was comforting him.
He cried into her arms as he talked about how Nancy was all he had left.
"I'll be here for you, I promise."
And she meant it. Whenever Steve called, she listened to what he had to say. Nancy was a little bothered at first. She found it weird her ex-boyfriend was using her little sister as a shoulder. But then Steve began to change, in a way Nancy thought wasn't possible.
The friendship helped Steve and Nancy accept that. It even helped get them back on normal speaking terms.
Eddie hated it, though. He hated having Y/N in his lap, rocking her hips against his. His tongue battled hers as the music played through his shitty speakers.
"Wheeler, call for Wheeler."
Steve's voice cut through the moment like a knife. The static voice worked its way through the talkie and Y/N pulled back.
"One second," she whispered.
Eddie felt his stomach turn as she grabbed the talkie and went outside. He wanted to trust her, he so badly did. But it was so hard when she'd always leave the room to talk to him. Why can't she talk to him in front of her boyfriend? It meant she was hiding something.
She had to be cheating on him.
And the thought of it broke his heart.
The one time he was in love, she found someone else.
~
What Eddie didn't know was that Steve and Y/N found themselves thrown into some type of supernatural portal. Something called the upside down? She wasn't quite sure what it all meant yet, but all she knew was that she and Steve fought hand in hand for months on end.
The world seemed to be back to normal and they wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want Eddie to get dragged into all of it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him. So she demanded every single one in the gang keep what happened a secret.
It was sworn that Eddie never found out what happened a few months back.
As a result of being at war with Steve, meant their friendship grew so strong that they truly became best friends. They leaned on each other when they needed it the most.
Eddie didn't understand how one minute she hated Steve and the next, she ran the second he called. He knew something happened between them. He tried to piece together a timeline, but he drew blanks.
~
She bounced back into the trailer with an apologetic smile on her face.
"Steve needs to talk some stuff out. He got in a fight with his dad. Can we raincheck the movie?" she asked
Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't surprised.
"Sure thing," Eddie smiled. He was good at pretending that nothing was wrong. So well that she had no idea she was ruining their relationship the more she picked Steve.
~~~
"Do you think you'll come to the hideout tonight?" Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around Y/N. Her back to his chest as she crammed books in her locker.
His lips kissed her neck as he swayed them back and forth.
"Ew, get a room." Nancy gagged, but a smile on her face. Nancy loved seeing her sister in love. She was the main reason Nancy ended things with Steve.
Nancy wanted what Y/N and Eddie had, and she didn't feel like she did with Steve.
"Um, I'm sorry but I don't think I can." Y/N cringed as Eddie's touch was gone in a second.
Nancy sensed the air change and quickly left them alone. Nancy knew tonight was a meeting with the gang, they were worried the upside down was opening again. But Eddie couldn't know.
"Don't even tell me it's because you'll be with Steve." Eddie snapped.
Y/N felt nervous to turn around. She gulped as she turned around, that same apologetic look in her eyes.
"Why now? Can he just go to fucking therapy and stop using my girlfriend?"
"Eds, be nice," she tried, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was strongly irritated.
"What's wrong?" she asked, she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn't hide the pain she felt when he backed away.
"What's wrong? What's wrong is that my girlfriend doesn't seem to give a shit that I exist." Eddie spat, he wanted to keep his anger in check but he couldn't help but sound pissed.
"Of course I do! Tonight I just had prior plans."
"Cancel and come with me," Eddie said, his voice soft as he grabbed her hand. He turned his puppy eyes to her as he begged.
"I can't cancel, Eds." She sighed sadly
The anger washed up as quickly as it washed away.
He dropped her hand like it burned. Her hand was dead against her side as it dangled.
"Why not?" he challenged
"They all need me, baby," she said softly
Eddie shook his head and chuckled darkly.
"They do or Steve does?"
"Eddie, you know it's not like that, right?" She said, her heart broke as she watched the insecurity flash across his face. Had he been upset about Steve all this time? Was she a horrible girlfriend for not noticing?
"Just sometimes I need my girlfriend too," he said sadly, then walked off.
"Eddie, no wait," she said, she grabbed his hand. She felt her throat close up as he sniffled.
"Forget it. I'll tell you about the show whenever I see you."
"Eddie, please. I'm sorry." she tried, she wanted to tell him the truth but she couldn't.
"I know, I'll see you later," he said, his mouth in a tight line as he walked away.
~
Y/N couldn't focus during the meeting. Her brain focused on the little fight with Eddie. Had she been neglecting him? She would never intentionally hurt him and she hated that she still did.
Steve was listening to Dustin when he heard sniffles. He looked beside him and watched as Y/N silently cried. Her head down as she used her shirt to catch the tears.
"You okay?" Steve whispered in her ear
"Course," she said, putting on a fake smile as she looked at him
But looking at Steve made her think of Eddie. And thinking of Eddie caused a loud sob to escape.
The gang all looked in her direction. Nancy and Mike watched with concern as she stood up.
"Sorry, need a minute." she apologized, she raced up the stairs and closed the basement door behind her.
She dropped her body on the front step and let the sobs take over her body. She cried into her hands as the afternoon played through her head on an endless loop.
Steve followed behind her, he sat next to her and he wrapped his arms around her. She turned her body into his and sobbed. Her wet tears soaked his shirt as she sobbed.
"What is going on?" he whispered, he gently rubbed her back as she tried to get ahold of herself.
She told him everything that happened, Steve felt a puddle of guilt in his stomach. He pulled her away, it was his fault Eddie was upset.
They were lost in their own world, no idea that as Steve placed a comforting kiss on her forehead Eddie was in the driveway.
Eddie's heavy feet stomped towards them. They jumped apart hearing his boots crunch the sticks below.
Steve stood up and held his hands in defense
"Munson, I swear it-" but he didn't get to finish his sentence.
Eddie went at him, a huge right punch connected straight against Steve's eye. Steve crumbled to the grass instantly as he held his eye.
"EDDIE!" Y/N gasped, she quickly jumped in front of Steve as Eddie went to charge forward.
"Not like that right?" Eddie spat, his voice filled with venom as he shot her words right back at her.
"Eddie," Steve groaned as he stood up. He looked at Eddie with one eye, holding the bruising one. "It's not what you think, I swear."
"I don't give a single fuck about what you have to say" Eddie hissed as he pointed at Steve over Y/N's shoulder.
"Steve, can you give us a second?" Y/N asked, but her eyes never left Eddie.
Once she heard the front door shut, she took a deep breath.
"How could you do this to me?" Eddie asked, his voice cracked as the first round of tears fell down his face. "We were so in love. You used to love me so much. You used to never leave my side and now? Now I can barely remember the last time we even had sex."
"Oh Eddie," she whimpered as she stepped forward and held his face in her hands. She cried seeing him cry. "We are in love! I still love you. I love you more and more every day. I'm sorry I've gotten so caught up with Steve but I promise you it is not because I have feelings for him. I didn't know you were missing me so much."
"How could you know? You won't see me for more than ten minutes." he snapped, he grabbed her hands and shoved them off of his face. She tried to ignore the drop of her heart.
"You're right. I am so sorry. Talk to me, let's talk it out."
"I don't think I even want to anymore," he confessed. YN shook her head as she panicked.
"No, baby, You can do it, just tell me what you are feeling, please," she begged, she fought hard not to touch him. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him but she couldn't tell if he wanted her to touch him.
"You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?" Eddie said, he lashed out as his tears turned into anger. His voice rose. "For Steve? I mean how could you even do this to Nancy?"
"She doesn't care because she knows we are just friends!" Y/N argued. "Like I've told you! There is nothing between him and I."
"YOU AND I USED TO BE FRIENDS, SHIT CHANGES Y/N!" he screamed, no doubt letting the neighbors know a fight was breaking out
"That's different." she cried, tears falling down her face.
"HOW?" he screamed as he stepped closer. Right in her face as he demanded his answer.
"BECAUSE I WAS ALREADY IN LOVE WITH YOU, ASSHOLE. I KNEW I LOVED YOU AND I HAD TO PRETEND I DIDN'T BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE YOU AS A FRIEND. THAT IS WHY IT IS DIFFERENT. I'VE NEVER WANTED TO KISS STEVE OR WONDERED WHAT HE TASTED LIKE. IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU!" she cried, it hurt to have him so close and not touch him. She wanted to have the right words to say.
"Then why has it only been Steve, lately?" Eddie asked, breaking down as the words left his tongue. More tears fell as he looked into her eyes. He used to see through her, but something happened and her eyes never told him the truth anymore.
"I can't tell you because it would kill me if you got hurt because of me." She watched as he nodded and choked back his tears. His red eyes looked into hers.
"You've been hurting me for months, and you are still breathing," her heart shattered as he began to step back, "Steve or not, it's clear you don't have the time for me. Take me off that full plate you have."
"Eddie, please don't" she sobbed as he kept stepping back. With each step he took, she made that step forward.
"If you ever truly loved me, you'll let me heal from you. I don't deserve to feel second best by my own girlfriend."
With those words, she stopped. She planted her feet in the grass as he turned around. She covered her mouth as he got in his van. Before he closed the door, she yelled his name.
He looked over at her
"I need you to know that I'm doing what you asked. I'll leave you alone and give you the space you need because it'll prove that I love you. Even if it kills me to never be with you again."
She watched as he didn't say a word, just closing his door and taking off down the road.
~~~
Mike had seen both his sisters experience breakups, but nothing as bad as Y/N.
It's been a week since the breakup, and Y/N barely leaves her room. She came out to use the bathroom, sometimes she'd sit in the kitchen and stare at the phone. She'd pray that he would call, but she knew he wouldn't. After a few hours, she'd go right back up to her room.
"Poor girl. I've never seen her so heartbroken." Karen said as she sat down at the dinner table. "Has she done any of the schoolwork she missed?"
"Barely, I've turned in a few of her assignments." Nancy said, "She won't even talk to me about it."
"Shame on that boy for hurting her," Karen said as she shook her head, "I wish I could smack some sense into him."
His mom's words gave Mike an idea.
~
The next morning Mike biked to Eddie's trailer. It was a Saturday morning so he knew Eddie would be rotting in bed.
He was done seeing his sister lose herself
and he was done with Eddie's cranky ass during Hellfire.
He threw his bike into the dirt as he raced up to Eddie's trailer. He pounded on the door.
"Wheeler?" Eddie said confused, his eyes half open as he yawned.
"We need to talk," Mike snapped, letting himself in the trailer and sitting on the couch.
"Great, another fight with a wheeler," Eddie mumbled to himself.
"What can I help you with?" Eddie asked as he stood.
"Why does it look like you are sleeping on the couch?" Mike asked with sass as he pushed the bundle of blankets out of his way. "Bedroom reeks of all the random girls you've been sleeping with?" he hissed.
"Woah, little Wheeler. What I do in my bedroom is none of your business. What makes you think I'm sleeping with random girls? Is that how your sister is dealing with the breakup?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help but get mad at his own words.
"Oh shut your mouth," Mike snapped, "my sister isn't this whore you claim her to be."
"I know, that was uncalled for," Eddie said, "how...how is she?" he couldn't help but ask. It had been eating him up all week. He hadn't seen her once, hadn't heard her voice, and it killed him. He had no idea if she was breaking apart or completely fine with Eddie gone.
"Answer my question first," Mike demanded, he got off the couch and walked to Eddie's room. If there was a girl in there, Mike swore he'd kill Eddie before the upside-down had the chance.
"WHEELER!" Eddie yelled but Mike carried on. He flew Eddie's door open. And it was empty. The bed set is perfectly made, with a flower on the pillow with a note attached.
"And what slut is this for? Moving on already?" Mike snapped. He reached forward and grabbed the note.
"Give me that!" Eddie snapped back, snatching the note from his hands. "I'm not sleeping with anyone, okay? I haven't been in here since the breakup. She made my bed that morning and wrote me a note, and this was the first flower someone had given me. I just wanted to leave everything the way she touched it." Eddie explained. The room held too many memories, and it smelled of her.
"Can we talk in the living room?"
Mike nodded, knowing not to push Eddie further.
They walked back into the living room as Eddie closed his bedroom door. Eddie took a seat next to Mike.
"She's heartbroken," Mike said, Eddie looked over at him. "She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and stares at the phone the second school ends until she knows you are asleep. She's miserable and it's all your fault!" Mike said, pissed at Eddie for hurting his sister. Mike stood up so he could tower over Eddie, by a little.
"You broke her and you better fix it!"
"I didn't do anything, Mike. You are too young to understand, but our relationship wasn't the same." Eddie sighed. He did feel awful hearing about how bad she was doing. Guilt in his bones as he pictured her staring at the phone.
There were so many times he wanted to call. At one point he didn't care if she ever had feelings for Steve, he wanted to be with her anyway. He'd watch her kiss Steve a thousand times if she still picked Eddie to come home to.
"I might be young, but I'm not an idiot. Steve never liked her, he is still hung up on Nancy. And Y/N never liked Steve more than a friend. Hell, she barely understood what Nancy saw in him because he wasn't you. She is so in love with you that you are literally the only guy she sees worthy. I don't blame you for wanting to protect yourself. But she has been killing herself to protect you."
"But I don't understand why she can't tell me! We've been in a relationship for over a year, and she still has these secrets!" Eddie argued.
"It's not her secret to tell! It's mine, okay?" Mike said, Eddie looked at him confused. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. But you have to believe me. It'll explain why Y/N thought it would protect you to keep you out of it."
Eddie sat and listened as Mike explained what happened over the past year. The upside down and the battles. How Y/N and Steve got thrown together and they could only turn to each other because of it. But it all made sense. She kept promising she couldn't tell because if he got hurt, it would kill her. Because if Eddie got hurt, he wouldn't survive.
~~~
Eddie waited a day before he picked up the phone. He felt nervous as he dialed the number he knew by heart.
It rang for a second before a voice appeared on the other end
"Hello, Y/N speaking,"
Eddie closed his eyes at the sadness in her voice.
"Hey, darling. It's, uh me, Eddie." He stuttered out
"I knew it was you by the first word," she laughed sadly. She hated how hard it seemed to talk to him. Like she didn't know what to say.
"Right," he chuckled, "I was hoping we could talk? Maybe better in person?" He drummed his hands against the wall as he heard her breathing heavily through the phone.
"Yeah, um when and where?" Her voice cracked as she blinked back her tears. This was the final moment, he wanted to break it off officially. She gave him his space and he was ready for it to be forever.
"Please don't cry, sweetheart." He begged, choking up himself as he listened to her.
"I'm fine!" She lied, "Just tell me when and where."
"My place and the sooner the better."
He clenched his eyes in pain as she whimpered and let out a soft okay before the phone went dead.
~
She drove over to his trailer, unable to keep the tears back.
She was scared to see him again. She barely kept it together hearing his voice again. She didn't want to cry when she saw him, but it was all she had been doing for the past week.
Eddie was against his trailer smoking a cigarette when she pulled up. She took another deep breath as she turned off the car. Even having that small glimpse sent her head into a spiral.
Eddie smashed his cigarette as she walked up to him. She wore one of his old hoodies, and a pair of sweats she stole after their first movie date. Her eyes were majority swollen and red. Her nose was red as she rubbed it with his sleeve.
"Hi, sweets" Eddie cooed, as he opened his arms. Within seconds her body crashed into his as she wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her scent. He kissed her head, and every painful feeling in his body melted away.
She sobbed as she inhaled his clothes. All she wanted was to be with him again, and she was. She kept squeezing him tighter, hoping he'd feel closer.
"Don't cry, my love," he said into her hair, rubbing her back.
"I missed you so much," she sobbed, "it was so hard to give you the space you wanted."
"I missed you too, baby girl. I'm so sorry I made you give me space. I'm so sorry for the mess I made since I didn't communicate when I should have. Let's go inside." He let go of her body but laced his hand with hers as they walked into the trailer. Eddie led her to his room, he opened the door and closed it behind him. She refused to let go of his hand, but he didn't ask her to.
She wasn't sure how long she'd have before he wanted space again. He sat beside her as she looked around his room. She noticed it was the same as a week ago, but she didn't say anything.
instead of sitting next to her, he dropped to his knees and rested his head on her lap. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, she scratched his head in the way he loves.
"I'm sorry for fucking this up. I should have trusted you, I'm sorry I didn't. I thought I needed space, but all it did was make me miss you." He melted into her touch as her fingers continued to run through his hair. "I'm so in love with you. I wasn't used to sharing you and I felt like I was losing you." His puppy eyes looked up at her as he sat up on his knees.
He laced his hands with hers and rested them on her lap
"I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you. You are the only boy I'd ever want. I love you and that won't ever change." She said she unlaced their hands so she could cup his face. Her thumbs rubbed his wet cheeks as she leaned in and placed her lips on his.
Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist, his palms resting on her back as he kissed her back. Eddie straightened himself as he deepened the kiss. He kept his lips on hers as he pushed her back and stood up. Her back was against his mattress as he climbed on top of her. The kiss grew more intense and hungry as her hands moved to his stomach. His right hand rested on her cheek, he moaned as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
The kiss sent goosebumps rising on her skin. The feelings she felt when she kissed Eddie never went away, it was always butterflies and needing more.
Eddie pulled away for air, his eyes soaking her in. She was slow to open her eyes but when she did she was staring into Eddie's.
“You’re the only person I want to spend my life with” she whispered
"Just like the note said." he smiled
"Just like the note said," she laughed. Already missing his lips, she placed her hand on the back of his neck and brought his lips to hers. She frowned when Eddie pulled back a little, not letting their lips meet.
"Before I get carried away with you," Eddie winked, she blushed and bit her lip. "Will you be my girl again?"
"I never stopped,"
Eddie smiled and smashed his lips back on hers. They hungrily touched each other, showing how much they missed it and never wanted space again.
Tags!
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#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x wheeler! reader#ashwhowrites
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Part 1!DEVOTION
Part 2
CREATOR!LUCIFER X READER
Summary: You feel trapped in the luxurious cage that Lucifer created.
Reading in dim light isn't really a good idea. Your eyes feel itchy and letters are running all across the page. Huffing in annoyance, you unwillingly close the book to go to sleep. Tonight is not just it, perhaps the lack of sleep has finally caught up to you. Your pillow feels a bit rocky as the book is carefully tucked under. That night, your dreams are made of angels joyfully singing their symphony, unaware of the angelic eyes watching your sleeping form.
Morning comes by as usual. You are woken up by the sweet smell of hot pancakes and the sight of a pair of neatly folded clothes thrown onto your bed. Lucifer has always insisted that you let him take care of almost everything around the house. You obviously don't agree. However, morning is something you would gladly give in. A big reason being his signature pancakes and the other being you don't have to wake up too early. Hastily put on the clothes he has put together for you, you rush to the kitchen, wanting to have breakfast as soon as possible.
Good morning! Did you sleep well? Lucifer cheerfully greets you with a toothy grin.
Very well! Are you going to be in the workshop today?
I’m afraid not, my dear. You see, Charlie insisted that we must make plans for the upcoming extermination.
Can I come too?
Your question makes Lucifer halts his cooking. You have expected this. He is always reluctant about you doing anything Heaven related, trying to steer your gaze elsewhere as if Heaven is the forbidden fruit of Hell. At least, that’s what it is in his eyes.
I’m sorry, sweetheart. You know what it is.
But don't you think it's time I-
Anne. We’ve talked about this.
Okay…
Lowering your head, you patiently wait for the food. You know better than to make any moves with that hint in his voice. It is one of his turnoffs that you come to notice during decades of living with him; even Charlie, his daughter, wouldn't have caught it on the spot like you. Lucifer once said: No one has known me quite like you.
…
I had a really shitty day.
Lucifer says as he slumps his head onto your shoulder. Pulling the blanket closer to the both of you, you let out an acknowledged hum:
Mind telling me what went wrong?
That fuck head radio demon. Do you know him? I think his name is Alastair? Nevermind that. Nothing important. His jackass thinks he can just simply swoon over Charlie and convince her I’m replaceable. Ugh can't fucking believe that.
You don't… normally swear. I guess that demon is pretty rough huh?
Lucifer lets out a huff and turns up the volume of the TV:
Yeah…
Tonight is just one of those movie nights: Lucifer talks over the movie about anything to you. Today is just one of those days. Every day is the same. You are a being yet incomplete as a being. You realize you are barely alive. He chooses your clothes. He cooks your food. He soothes your pain. He is everything. Slowly, everything around you doesn't make any sense. The noise coming from the tv becomes static and Lucifer’s voice seems so distant. Why are you even created? Is your sole existence destined to be some sort of amusement for the King? And why is he so avoidant about Heaven? Are you the problem?
Y/n. Y/n!
You immediately snap out of your messy thoughts. Something about Lucifer always manages to pull you right back. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he asked with a worried voice:
Did something happen?
You quickly turn your head to look at him. Your eyes filled with panic:
Oh! I think I’m just sleepy. Yeah… That's all.
Still, you know better than anything that is not enough. Nothing is enough for him, especially if it’s something from you. He lets out a pitiful smile and quietly turns off both the tv and the light, steps out of the bed. Before heading out, he doesn't forget to say his usual goodnight to you. How ironic. You think. He knows you are not going to have a good night. However, you greatly appreciate the personal space he gives you. You give in to exhaustion and slump back to the bed. Like a habit, you reach out to take your book under the pillow. Last night, you left at the most interesting part-the dawn of humanity. Excitement fills you to the brim just thinking about-
There is no book.
Refusing to believe the loss, you throw the pillow out of your sight, only to be greeted with disappointment. Many scenarios play out inside your little head. There is no doubt this is the work of Lucifer. He must have known from the beginning and let you slip through for a while. You can't bear to imagine the things he would do if he losed control. Self-control is one of his greatest strengths. Although, you are not so sure about that right now. After evaluating everything, you decide that it is best to sleep right now and deal with the problem in the morning. That night, your dreams are made of demons gawking and gnawing at your frail form, unaware of the angelic eyes watching your sleeping form. Every day is not the same anymore.
#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin lucifer#lucifer imagine#lucifer magne#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar fanfiction#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer#lucifer angst#hazbin fanfic#hazbin fanfiction#hazbin imagine#fanfic#fanfiction
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