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#if there's anything this should get tagged as let me know
suguann · 2 days
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tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]
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Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.
But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.
The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.
It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.
He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”
“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.
“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.
“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.
“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”
His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.
He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.
Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—
“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.
You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”
“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep…here. With me?”
When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.
There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.
After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”
Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”
You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”
“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.
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erwinsvow · 23 hours
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“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”
“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”
“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.
“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”
“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”
“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.
“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”
“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 
there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.
“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.
“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.
“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.
“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.
“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.
“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”
“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.
“serious. i’d never lie to you.”
you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 
“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.
you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 
rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.
your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 
you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 
later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 
“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.
you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.
you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.
“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.
“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 
“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”
“i know. y’should stop that.”
“or you can stop first.”
“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”
“okay. i will.”
“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.
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toji-girl · 1 day
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all mine | t. fushiguro
tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + repost from my old blog + not beta read + feedback such as comments and reblogs are helpful + spit play + handjob + spit as lube + really no prep + fingering + unprotected sex + dry humping + preestablished relationship + pet names
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Toji asked watching you from the doorway as you removed the makeup you put on before the dinner for your boss’s retirement.
It was boring more than anything until you found one of your co-workers with her fresh manicure running up and down the expanse of your husband’s chest.
He was still in his suit, his tie loosened, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his jacket slung over his shoulder. You turned to look at him with daggers while you rolled your eyes. 
“Overreacting? I heard what she said that she’s surprised I was able to get a man like you.”
Toji kept a straight face as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly. “Get in the bed, face down, and ass up, princess.”
It didn’t matter that it was you who slid the silver band on his finger or that it’s your mouth that gets to suck his cock and she most certainly doesn’t know the sheer pleasure he gives you, but it didn’t dull the fire raging in your chest.
You were quick to scramble on the bed getting into position, Toji was grateful you wore a dress that was a bit tighter than you were used to, the fabric rolled up and over the curve of your ass exposing the deep red satin panties you picked for tonight.
Toji chuckled behind you rubbing his chin while standing behind you as his gaze fell to your ass and your cunt that was straining against the fabric, he leaned in running his finger up and down between your folds making you shiver.
“Does she know how to make me happy like you do? I didn’t even hear what she was fucking saying anyway, I only thought about your legs squeezing my head, but since you want to throw a little pity party I guess I’ll remind you that you’re my wife, not her, but you baby girl.”
His words were like electricity running through your veins, zapping all your nerves and senses, your cunt gushed when he pressed in more against your clit, and you heard the clicking of his belt buckle and the rustling of his pants.
Followed by him getting undressed you felt the cool leather from his belt run over your pussy then he pulled it away and yanked down your panties bending at the waist gathering his drool and spitting it on your cunt.
“Toji!” You gasped feeling him smearing it in, his other hand settled next to you as he leaned in more letting the rest of his spit drip down, the sound soon became lewd and wet as he smeared it in before sliding two fingers inside you with a loud squelch.
You surprised him by sitting up when he pulled his fingers out and kneeled in front of him running your hands over his chest and abs. “You don’t need to remind me of anything, it’s me who needs to remind you.” You whispered wrapping your fist around his tie and pulling him down on the bed.
His hands found purchase on your hips as you rutted against the thick bulge in his pants. “You’re right, and she will never know the way you growl when you fuck me senseless.” You said scooting back and resting on his thighs as you quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants pulling them down enough to free his cock.
More times than not Toji and you preferred for him to get you off at least twice, once on his tongue then the second time with his tongue and fingers but all you could think about was her touching your husband.
“Fiesty, maybe I should go to the gym shirtless next time.” He teased making you roll your eyes as you struggled to wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, just like Toji, it was big and thick, the length quite impressive, and heavy balls to match.
“Then I’d just fuck you in front of everyone.” You replied jerking him off and leaning forward, giving him the same treatment, he watched you spit on his swollen head and drip down pooling around the base, you bunched your dress up more and hooked your finger in your panties moving them to the side.
Toji helped keep you stable as you rubbed his head against your clit before slowly sheathing yourself halfway past the tip, he could feel you clenching around him, the stretch stung as you lowered yourself down more gasping and reaching for his hands. “You can take it, baby.” He whispered.
You looked down at him and leaned down pressing your chest against his as you slotted your mouth against his fully sitting down, both of you moaned against each other’s lips, slowly you found a perfect rhythm of rolling your hips sitting up looking at him once again.
Toji rested one hand behind his head watching you claim what’s rightfully yours.
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I owe you a kiss - Pt.5
Pairing: Minchan x femReader
Word Count: 3431
Summary: Chan and Minho enjoy their evening together before realizing how much they truly missed each other over the past six months. After their shared lazy night, they get an important call...
Warnings/Tags: fluff, domestic shit, cuddles, smut, touch starved!chan, soft!min, soft!chan, they're cheesy af sorry, amnesia, angst
A/N: This is mainly sweet and fluffy...I swear🥺🖤
PART FOUR | PART SIX (coming soon)
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Minho smiles softly to himself as he watches Chan making them dinner. He sneaks up on him and wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You're doing well,” he compliments him. 
“Yeah?” Chan chuckles. 
“Mhm,” Minho hums, and Chan gently blows on a spoon with some of the sauce before holding it up for him to taste. Minho does, and it's quiet for a moment. “Channie.”
“That bad?” he asks nervously. 
Minho reaches into the cupboard above them and grabs the salt. “You forgot the salt again?”
“Shit, you're right,” Chan groans, and Minho giggles at him. 
He plants a soft kiss on his cheek and squeezes him. “It's not bad, love. Just needs a little salt. It happens.”
“What would I do without you, huh? All that spice missing in my life,” Chan jokes, and Minho snorts. 
“Mhm, sure, salt is the only spice you'd be missing,” he comments, making Chan laugh. 
“Dummy,” he giggles and adds some salt. “Okay, almost done.” Chan turns in his hold and looks at him with a soft smile. His heart melts at the sight of Minho in a shirt of his, a pair of comfortable sweatpants and his glasses. He soothingly fondles up his arms and plants a kiss on his forehead. “You're so pretty, you know?” he asks softly, and Minho giggles. Chan gently brushes his hair back, which has gotten longer, and caresses his cheek.
“That's because of you,” he fondly rolls his eyes. 
“Oh, really? Didn't know I was part of the process of creating you,” he snorts, and Minho gently shoves his chest. 
“You know the saying about how one gets prettier when they're happy,” he says and searches his eyes. “You're the one making me happy.”
“Who's being cheesy now, huh?” he smirks. 
“Yeah, yeah, your sauce’s gonna burn if you don't stop staring into my soul soon,” Minho points out, and Chan's eyes widen before he spins around quickly. 
“Oh, baby,” he curses as he realizes Minho tricked him, now giggling behind him. “You can't shock me like that.”
“My bad, didn't know you were so-Chan!” Minho protests with a squeak as Chan tickles his side and tries to squirm away. “No, no, don't you even start that,” he says and jokingly raises his fists, ready to fight him. 
Chan grins and gets back to finishing dinner. 
-
After dinner, they're cuddled up on the sofa and Chan's feeding him with small brownie bites from time to time. A movie is playing in the background, and he doesn't pay much attention to it. He feels truly happy here with Chan for the first time in a while. Chan's hand is soothingly running through his hair, mindlessly rubbing down his back in between. It's peaceful and comfortable, and Minho can't help but wish you were here as well. His thoughts start wandering, and suddenly, Chan pulls him into his lap, gently kissing his cheek, and lets him cuddle up against him. Minho inhales his so familiar scent and buries his nose in his shirt for a moment, feeling a sense of home wash over him. He doesn't know why, but the urge to be as close as possible to Chan clouds his senses with sheer force, and his grip on his shirt subconsciously tightens. 
Chan picks up on it and doesn't say anything, simply letting his hand travel down his back and then rest on his thigh to test the waters. 
Minho tenses up in his lap and bites his lower lip, unsure if he should tell him to move his hand away or continue whatever the hell he's doing. Chan makes the decision for him, mindlessly rubbing his thigh, and Minho sits up straight, looking at him with blown eyes. “Channie?”
“Yeah?” he asks, breath hitching as their eyes meet. The pure love and vulnerability in his husband's eyes make his stomach all fuzzy. 
“I…uh,” he stops himself, unsure if he should tell Chan. It's been so long, and he isn't sure if Chan finds him attractive in this sense at the moment.
Chan searches his eyes before connecting their lips to a soft kiss. Minho's hand shoots up and cups his face, humming into the feeling. “You were saying kitten?” Chan asks quietly as he pulls back again. 
“I miss you,” he says, not knowing how else to express his feelings. Chan blinks at him in confusion for a moment before realizing what he means. “You're right; those six months have been very long.”
Chan hums softly and searches his eyes. “You're sure?” he checks in gently, and Minho nods almost timidly. “You uh..you still want that?” he asks. 
Minho frowns at him softly. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just…I didn't think you'd still want me after all those months of keeping my distance and-.”
Minho shuts him up with a long, fierce kiss. “I'll never stop loving you even if there are times when you don't know how to give anything back,” he tells him, and Chan knows he's telling the truth. Those four months before the accident prove every word. “And I'll always want you, Chan. We got married because I want every piece of you, every sweet smile, every rough edge, every bit you may be insecure about. I chose you, and I'll choose you again and again...Okay?” he asks sweetly. 
Chan blinks at him, stunned, eyes shimmering suspiciously. “Okay,” he whispers. 
Minho presses their foreheads together and gently fondles up his chest. “Nothing crazy. Just you and me. Lazy and soft as you love it.” 
Chan's grip on him involuntarily tightens. “Now?” he breathes out. 
“We can make an appointment in two weeks if that's what you'd like. I'm free at-,” he breaks off giggling as Chan gets up with him in his arms.
“Idiot,” he mutters softly and carries him upstairs to their bedroom, lowering him into the mattress. “I'll be back in a moment,” he promises and kisses him longingly. 
Minho smiles and watches him gather everything they'd need. Chan climbs back into bed and takes off his glasses for him with a soft smile. Minho's hand makes its way into his curls and pulls him into a slow, sweet kiss. Chan gets onto his knees and pulls him up, straddling his lap. He helps him out of his shirt and kisses him again. Minho's hands slip beneath his shirt, gently pulling it up, and Chan mewls into the kiss as his fingers trace his skin. “M-Min,” he stammers, and Minho blinks at him before teasingly brushing his fingertip over Chan's nipple. His husband tenses up with a soft moan, and Minho's eyes widen. 
“I completely forgot you haven't been touched at all in half a year,” he admits and gently pushes him back down into the mattress before climbing in his lap. He experimentally grinds down against him, and Chan's head falls back with a beautiful moan. “I think I know what you need now,” Minho smirks and falls back into the pillows, grabbing the bottle of lube close to him. Chan watches him, stunned, as Minho shoves down his sweatpants and boxers with a swift move and covers his fingers in lube. “Enjoying the show?” he asks teasingly and Chan nods, laughing softly. Minho relaxes before gently working his first finger inside his hole, lips parting with a gasp. 
Chan had seen him do so a thousand times whenever Minho got too impatient for long foreplay, but he'd never get tired of the sight. The way his face slowly contorts with pleasure as he works in another finger in no time, the way his body tenses when he hits a good spot, the soft pants, and the low moans he tries to hold back in the beginning. Minho squints at him. “Well, get undressed, pretty,” he tells him and bites his lower lip hard as he slowly stretches himself with his fingers. 
“You're insane,” Chan giggles softly but does as he says and throws his clothes onto the floor next to Min's discarded shirt. By the time he's done, Minho is ready and instructs him to get comfortable next to him. Chan does and watches him curiously as Minho climbs into his lap. A few soft kisses down his neck and a few soft strokes are enough to make him whimper already. Min giggles before slowly sinking down on him. Chan's hands grip his hips, bracing him as he does, and he can't hold back a moan at Minho's relieved expression, finally feeling him again. 
Minho moans sweetly as Chan's fully buried inside of him and takes a moment to get used to the feeling again. “Fuck, I missed you,” he chuckles breathlessly after a moment, and Chan giggles, squirming a little beneath him. 
“I don't think I'll last long,” he tells him, blushing a little. 
Minho smirks and gently pats his chest. “That's okay, love. We have all the time we need tonight, yeah?”
Chan nods and is about to answer, but his jaw drops with a weak groan as Minho lifts his hips. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Minho takes it as encouragement to keep moving. None of them expects it, but after a few slow rolls of Minho's hips Chan starts struggling already. “Min-fuck, wait, please-” He tenses up with a loud whine of his name and paints his walls with thick ropes of cum. Minho watches him, stunned, as Chan beneath him weakly thrusts back, riding out his orgasm. Their eyes meet, and Chan turns crimson red, covering his face with his arm. “Oh God, no,” he whines softly. 
Minho giggles and leans down, gently easing his arm from his face. “Hey, no hiding,” he says softly. 
“This is embarrassing,” he protests softly. 
“I told you, darling, we have time,” he assures him. “I'll take it as a compliment,” he smirks and Chan's jaw drops a little before he laughs. 
Chan takes a deep breath and gently fondles Minho's thighs, sinking deep into his eyes. “Okay, you can move,” he tells him after a bit. 
Minho kisses him lovingly and moves on top of him, moaning softly as he rolls his hips. “Chan, please,” he breathes out. 
Chan gets the message and lifts him off his dick, flipping them over so Minho's on his back now. He braces himself on his arms next to his head and captures his lips in a long, sweet kiss, hand fondling down his side. Minho beneath him moans beautifully and buries his hand in his hair. “I nearly forgot how pretty you truly are,” Chan tells him, and Minho doesn't protest, blushing at his words. “But you're still as beautiful as ever no matter what you do,” he goes on and kisses Minho's neck, making the younger one whine softly. “It's ridiculous sometimes how much I long to be close to you in every way possible.”
“Channie,” Minho whispers with a shy smile, wrapping his legs around his waist. “My sweet Channie.”
Slowly, Chan pushes his dick back inside, making them both moan out shamelessly loud in pure relief. He pushes deeper with every slow drag of his hips until he's fully buried inside him, and Minho sighs contently. Chan's hand digs deep into his golden skin as he grabs his thigh and Minho clenches around him. Chan kisses down his jaw, starting a slow, gentle pace for now. “I missed you so much, baby,” he admits. “Not just back in Australia.”
“I know, love,” he assures him and soothingly fondles his head. “I missed you too, so much.”
He moans sweetly as he pushes in deeper and buries his face in his chest. “Shit, baby, you feel so good. So tight and warm for me, kitten.” Minho whimpers in response, so high and desperate it ignites a fire deep inside Chan he hadn't felt in a while. Thrusting forward, Minho's head falls back with a soft, breathy moan. “Taking me so well, kitten, fuck,” Chan tells him, the room slowly filling with the sound of their skin slapping over and over again. 
“K-Keep talking,” he barely gets out, his insides burning in need already. His grip on his hair tightens and he can't stop the whimpers and tiny moans leaving him. 
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Chan tells him and adjusts the angle of his hips a little. “So-ohh- fucking pretty.”
His next thrust has Minho arching off the bed, mouth falling open with a loud whine and eyes fluttering close. “Ch-Channie,” is all he can say before Chan repeats the motion, making his thighs tremble. Minho turns his head, burying it in the pillow a little, and moans obscenely loud at another drag against his prostate. 
“Shit, Min, I'm so close,” Chan curses, and Minho beneath him babbles some nonsense back, completely overwhelmed. “Want my kitten to come all over me.”
Minho mewls brokenly, and his eyes roll back before he tenses up with a silent scream, coating Chan's chest with his hot release. His hands twist the sheets and Chan's hair, body spasming beneath him as Chan picks up the pace, chasing his own high. Minho's high-pitched whines fill the room, mixing with Chan's desperate grunts, but he doesn't ask him to stop. “Channie,” he whines weakly. “Fill-fill me up, please.”
That's all he needs, and his body stills, shuddering heavily before painting his walls for the second time tonight. Chan's world explodes in hot pleasure before his eyes, and when he opens his eyes again, he's cuddled up safely in Minho's arms. He buries his face in his neck and plants a lazy kiss there, making Minho sigh happily. 
“Shit, I missed this,” Minho whispers, and Chan hums agreeingly in response. Minho softly kisses his head and runs his hand through his hair. “We gotta clean up.”
“Just a minute,” Chan mumbles drowsily and Minho can't deny him. The way he buries himself in his body makes his heart beat faster, knowing how long it had been for Chan. 
After another five minutes, he gently urges Chan to get up. Chan pushes himself up with a soft groan but picks him up and carries him to the bathroom. They clean each other up in the shower, washing their hair and spent bodies with soothing touches. Minho smiles happily at him as Chan rinses out the shampoo for him, hand running through his hair. 
Chan meets his eyes, and his world stops for a moment. Small water droplets rest on his lashes, his lips wet, and his skin glistening beneath the water. His eyes are so soft and vulnerable that they stir something deep inside of him, and Chan can't fight the urge to hug him close and bury his face in his shoulder. 
“You're okay?” Minho asks gently, soothingly rubbing his back and playing with the edge of his wet hair. 
“Yeah,” Chan answers quietly, tears burning in his eyes. 
Minho can tell by the way his voice quivers, unrecognizable to everyone who doesn't know Chan as well. He gently pulls him back and cups his face, worriedly searching his eyes. “Channie love?”
“I just…I know I haven't been easy those past few months, and I've been an asshole to you not only once,” he sniffles softly, and Minho's smile falters a little. “Sometimes it's just hard to believe you love me that much you can forget about all of it.”
“Channie,” he whispers, eyes brimming with tears. “I haven't been exactly easy to be around those past months either, have I?”
“I…thank you for giving me a home all those years ago and never leaving,” Chan tells him, lips quivering. 
Minho giggles sweetly, a tear dropping down his face. “I love you so much, Channie love. So so much,” he tells him and pulls him into a loving kiss. 
Chan kisses back fiercely and smiles at him. “I love you too, Minho baby.”
After getting dressed and changing the sheets, they're back in bed, facing each other. Their legs are entangled beneath the blanket, and they're as close as they can be, the tips of their noses touching. “Thank you for today,” Minho smiles shyly. 
“I'm glad you liked it,” Chan smiles back just as shyly and giggles. 
“How are you holding up with everything?” Minho asks gently. “You've been so focused on me lately.”
Chan soothingly squeezes his hip. “I'm glad to be back home,” he tells him kindly. “I wish she were here, but I'm okay, knowing she's getting better.”
“Mhm, I hope it won't take too long anymore,” Minho agrees and gently runs his fingers through Chan's damp curls. “But I think, given the circumstances of the past six months, we're doing well.”
Chan hums agreeingly and gives him a small, soft kiss. “Can you hold me tonight? Just hold me and don't let go?” 
Minho's face softens, and he plants a tiny kiss on his forehead. “Of course.”
Two days later 
Minho paces the bathroom once again, taking deep, controlled breaths. He tries to fight it all back down, all the guilt, all his worries, and fears. He just wants to be there for you, hold your hand, and comfort you like Chan is doing right now. Cursing quietly at himself he runs his hand through his hair shakily and takes another deep breath. “Man the fuck up,” he tells himself and shakily washes his hands. He rubs his face with the cold water, washing away all the tears, and dries it off with a few paper towels. 
Half an hour ago, they got the call that you were awake. Chan picked him up from work and drove them here, but so far, Minho hasn't dared face you. He's been crying for you to come back to them for months, and now that it's time, he is terrified. 
He stops in front of your room, hand lingering above the door handle, and hesitates. Surely, you'd hate him, right? You'd hate him for driving, for getting you into an accident. He subconsciously takes a step back, and it takes him every tiniest bit of his willpower to open the door and step inside. 
Minho meets Chan's eyes as he slowly walks into the room, and Chan's face softens. He must look horrible. Inhaling softly, he turns to look at you and swallows hard, meeting your eyes. You reach out for him with tears in your eyes, and his body moves on its own. Before he knows it, he's sitting at the edge of your bed and pulls you into his arms as you start crying. He soothingly rubs your back as you allow yourself to cry for the first time since they're here. “Oh, honey,” he whispers and swallows down his tears. “I'm so sorry, my love.”
You only hold onto him tighter, shattering his heart a little. Only hours ago, he wasn't sure if you'd ever hug him again. If you'd ever really wake up even. Minho buries his face in your shoulder and soothes his mind with your scent. You're here. You'd be okay. He'd make sure of that. 
Minho kisses your head and sniffles softly. “God, you're okay,” he says, and suddenly Chan's hand finds his lower back. He looks up and sees the pain in Chan's eyes, making his heart drop to his stomach. “What's wrong?” he whispers with wide eyes. 
“She's okay so far,” he promises and swallows hard. “But she can't remember the last two years.” Minho looks down at you, almost a little panicked. “Which is okay because that means she remembers the first seven years of our marriage and the three of us dating before. Min, that's not all bad, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods timidly as your hold on him tightens, and a sob shakes your body. 
“The doctor said there's a chance it'll all come back in a few months, we can make this work,” he says, and Minho presses his lips together, eyes filling with tears rapidly. “It's okay, it's okay,” Chan says softly, and Minho whimpers his name, holding onto you tightly. Chan quickly gets up and hugs you both close, kissing Minho's head. “I promise you, it's okay, Min,” he whispers, and Minho nods, trying to calm his racing heart. “It's just the last two years, we'll make this work.”
Minho holds you tight and nods again, hiding in Chan's chest. His husband is right. They went through a lot to get here; they'd manage this. You still know who they are, you still know they love you, you just don't know what happened over the past two years. It would be okay. 
PART FOUR | PART SIX (coming soon)
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MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
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luvyujun · 3 days
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girl best-friend.
“you know i’m just here to make you feel better.”
he just couldn’t give you up, even while in a relationship of his own — you were in the forefront of his mind. putting you over his own girlfriend, giving you his undivided attention and leaving her in the dust, poor girl. maybe she should try harder.
jung sungchan. angsty(js a lil). smut. js bold shit tbh.
she couldn’t do anything but watch as sungchan outwardly ignored her. she watched the way your eyes focused on his lips whenever he spoke , the way you glanced over at her with a smile on your face before focusing on her boyfriend again. the way he was basically eating your face while she was there— it was sickening. if someone were to walk into his living room with no prior knowledge, they would assume you were dating sungchan. but it was just friendly gestures, right?
maybe not the making-out though.
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parking in front of his complex, sungchan could be seen watching by the entrance, waiting for you to arrive — the girl that he started seeing months ago, clinging onto his arm like a leech, waited for you as well. he had invited you to hangout with him and it was supposed to be just you, but his girlfriend insisted on tagging along. wanting to meet his girl best-friend.
before you could even step out of the vehicle he was shaking her off his limb, jogging up to you to pull your body in a tight hug. his head on the top of yours, sungchan whispered into your hair, “sorry i didn’t tell you, but she practically begged me to let her stay over.” face against his chest, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes in response. staying like that next to your car, his girlfriend realized the hug was lasting longer than it should have. crinkling her nose, she took it upon herself to separate him from you — reaching for his hand in the process.
what a buzz-kill.
walking up to the double doors , sungchan slide his arm around your waist, letting go of her hand as he did — giving you a tight squeeze all while being engaged in a conversation with the other. resting your head onto his shoulder, he didn’t let you go even while unlocking the door of his place. only when sliding into the entry did he let go — letting you venture into the apartment, throwing your jacket onto a chair as did. but before you could even make it to the living room, muffled voices could be heard in the front. quietly, you beelined it back. peeking around the corner just in time to hear part of their conversation, argument.
listening, the two kept going at each other. clearly unaware of your prying eyes. “did you need to hug for that long? and not to mention you were all over her while walking in?” not being able to see sungchan, you heard him let out a sigh before responding. “if you have a problem with it, go home. she’s a friend that i haven’t seen in months,” there was silence for a moment. believing the conversation was over, you started to quietly walk away. the silence being broken by sungchan whispering a quick “get over yourself.” irritation written all over his voice, his foot steps started to head towards where you hid. with his body in frame, you were quick to pretend like you were going to the kitchen. opening his fridge doors in an attempt to look busy. coming up behind you, sungchan draped his arms over your shoulders.
“you don’t mind that she’s here, right? because clearly she minds that you’re even in my presence.” watching as you grabbed drinks from the fridge, he waited for an answer. now it was his turn to be the leech, clinging onto you as you shuffled around his kitchen collecting snacks — picking from the wilde selection of your favorites that he would stock up on. stuffing a handful of candy into your mouth, all you could do was give him a half smile. finding it amusing how just being there made her so insecure. ”why would i mind? ” glancing into the living room — his girlfriend was seated on the couch, staring as you two spoke. awkwardly adverting her eyes when she realized you were looking, “i’m not the one who has to try and get your attention.” mumbling as you chewed, his eyes followed your gaze, visibly tensing up when he realized she was seated right in the middle. you were supposed to sit there.
“guess you’re right, but let’s go in there before she starts nagging me again.”
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describing the situation as awkward would be an understatement. having to talk over her every-time you wanted to say something to sungchan was exhausting. she listened to every word that came out of your mouth and took note of every movement you made. it wasn’t until she got up to use the bathroom were you finally able to properly speak to sungchan. moving towards you on the sofa, he laid his whole body down onto the furniture — head now in your lap.
fingers gliding through his hair, your eyed were glued to your screen. but you took this moment to speak freely while you could, “can she be anymore overbearing? if i tried to touch you, she probably would have attacked on me like a wild animal.” cursing under your breath, sungchan was busy biting at his lip, in an effort to hold back the laugh he was desperately holding in. it wasn’t right for him to laugh at you belittling the girl he claimed to love, but what was worse was that you were painfully correct. “what even is her name again?” basically taunting the girl, you placed your phone down — dragging the pads of your fingers over his face while the other tugged and pulled through his hair.
opening his mouth to answer, you were quick to drag your finger over his lips. “no don’t answer, i won’t care nor remember anyway.” a small smile creeping onto his face, sungchan reached his hand out — pulling at your necklace to bring you down to his level. “you’re so mean, you know that right?” craning his neck, he didn’t give you time to answer. pulling you down until your lips meant his. bold move for someone whos’ girlfriend is just a few walls away. but hey, she wasn’t supposed to be here anyway.
your hair fell over his face, covering up the whole scene. removing a hand from his face, it found it’s way to his belt. buckling and removing the strap of leather with ease — you hand slipped into his pants causing the male to jerk up into your palm. in response, he removed his hands from your necklace, he frantically pulled at the fabric to free himself to give you easy access.
wait, she’s still here right?
that doesn’t matter right now, all he could focus on was the way your hand was slowly pumping at his disgusting hard dick. bending his knees, sungchan bucked up into your enclosed fist — longing for a tad bit more friction than what he was being given. removing your hand, you broke-out of the mini makeout session. “calm down, gotta make it last channie. gonna drag it out as long as possible.” bringing him back into the miss, you planted a slap on his exposed thigh before continuing to slowly jerk him off — just to make sure he got the memo. moaning into your mouth, he tried his best to still his body. squirming and shaking with every dragged out tug you gave him. it was so exciting, but most importantly, felt amazing. in fact, it felt so good that he didn’t hear the footsteps echoing through the hallway.
oh but you did.
standing in the archway, all she did was stare. all she could do was stare at the scene laid out in front of her very own eyes. watching the way her boyfriend reacted to every movement you made. listening to his muffled moans and whines all while he attempted to fuck himself into your fist. the way your hair covered his face — hiding the mini scene going on underneath. listening to her boyfriend go absolutely crazy for a girl who he said was only a friend. not a word was spoken. but so much was said. darting out of the doorway, she could be heard rummaging around in the entryway. possibly collecting her stuff so she could leave.
not like she was invited anyway.
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speaker phone — hehe, i rlly enjoyed writing that. idk what it is but something possess me everytime i sit down to write a little cheating fic. i get very excited for some reason. BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT?? i didn’t mean to make sungchan like, as subby as he turned out?? but in order for it to play out how i wanted, it just needed to happen. hugs and kisses — a virgin w/ too many fantasies.
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108 notes · View notes
hgfictionwriter · 9 hours
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Getaway
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie's in her head about your friendship and if it can be something more. Can a vacation getaway change the trajectory of your connection?
A/N: Get ready for shy, sweet, awkward Jessie doing her best to not get in her own way and win over her girl. Someone requested fluff and while this isn't quite it - it's on its way lol. No warnings for this fic.
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"Um, can I get you a refill?" Jessie asked as she spied the near empty glass in your hand. 
"Only if you're getting one," you responded with a nod to the cup Jessie was holding.  
Niamh and Zee had both retired for the night and it was now just Jessie and you around the firepit of the villa the four of you were renting. Jessie wasn't a night owl and she was actively fighting the weight of her heavy eyelids, but she wanted to stay up with you. And frankly, she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking as well. She was already feeling a bit of a buzz and wasn't entirely confident about having another drink. You noted her hesitation and smiled.  
"Doesn't have to be a boozy drink. I could go for a late night tea instead." 
Jessie smiled gratefully. You knew her so well.  
"Sure, let's do that," Jessie said. 
When Jessie returned a while later with two steaming mugs of tea, she also had a bag of crackers tucked under her arm and handed them to you. 
"Oh my gosh," you said as she sat up to receive the items. "How did you know I wanted a snack?" You blew on the hot beverage before taking a tentative sip. "And you remembered how I take my tea. Thank you." 
"Of course," Jessie said, hiding a pleased smile. An easy quiet fell over the two of you as you sipped your drinks. Jessie had to make a concerted effort to focus her gaze on the fire and to not stare at this beautiful woman across from her. She should really just enjoy the silence and your company, but an urge had been nagging her and her resolve was fading. 
"So, how are you liking it here so far?" She asked.  
"It's beautiful. Obviously," you responded with a light chuckle. "I'm loving it. Thank you again - to all of you - for letting me tag along on your unofficial team trip." 
"Oh, no need to thank me or any of us. We're all super glad you're here," Jessie said. She did her best to push down the awkward or self-criticizing feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of her. 
It's just Y/N, she had to remind herself so she wouldn't get caught up in analyzing her own words and actions. 
When Jessie first met you through Niamh over a year ago, you hit it off. At the time, Jessie made a point of not giving it too much headspace. It was just one meeting after all and it could have been a fluke. But when you saw each other again at another event, it became evident to Jessie that there was actually something there. Your chemistry was natural, banter was easy, and your conversation led to some deeper things and you ended up talking late into the night. Jessie was reserved, even shy, so warming up to someone so quickly and feeling comfortable wasn't the norm.  
Just as Jessie was working up the nerve to ask you for your number - an extreme rarity - it came to light that you had a girlfriend. That brought everything to a crashing halt. 
Jessie had been furious with herself for misreading your connection and for almost making a fool out of herself. She was even more upset with herself for how disappointed she felt by this turn of events. It had only been a couple of conversations and she shouldn't be so affected. Regardless, she most definitely didn't want to get caught up in any drama. So when you parted ways that night she dismissed the notion that it could've ever been anything more. She was committed to pushing you from her mind and that was the end of it. 
However, your paths kept crossing and that chemistry didn't go away. In fact, every time you talked, Jessie found that you lingered longer and longer in her mind and that feeling in her chest grew warmer and brighter.  
In time, Jessie convinced herself that being friends wouldn't be so bad. And, truthfully, it was mostly good. There were, regretfully too many, moments where Jessie had to do everything in her power to not reach out to hold your hand or to not let it show when mention of your girlfriend sent a dagger through her insides, but Jessie's life was undeniably better with you in it than even the thought of one without.  
Knowing that you'd never be anything more made things simple enough, not easy, but the lines were undebatable. However, since you and your girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago, things were different and Jessie was having more and more difficulty navigating your dynamic. The chemistry was still clear as day for Jessie, but did you feel the same? And even on the off-chance that you did feel the same, were you ready for a new relationship? And now that you'd been friends for so long, Jessie had to weigh the cost of risking your friendship. The thought of losing you terrified her.
All of the drama she'd been trying to avoid seemed to be closing in on her despite her efforts. She should really just let it all go, but it was proving harder and harder to. 
"Did you and [y/ex] ever talk about visiting here?" Jessie asked clumsily. She had to resist the urge to sigh in annoyance at herself. She watched your reaction carefully; if you were put-off or perplexed by the inquiry, you didn't let on. 
"No," you answered nonchalantly and shrugged. "She wasn't really big on travel. So, it never really came up. I've always wanted to come here though, so this is perfect." 
"Oh yeah, me too," Jessie said quickly - too quickly. She fought off the wince that threatened to cross her face. She cleared her throat inaudibly and redirected. "Um, I haven't really checked in in a while. Uh, so, how are you? You know…since the break-up." 
It seemed that no matter how many times she’d rehearsed these conversations, they just never really came out the way she wanted them to. Maybe it was a good thing she had a bit of a buzz, because otherwise she'd probably be sinking into her chair and praying to disappear at how clunky she was approaching this. 
"You're sweet," you responded with a small smile. Again, if you were thrown off by any of this, you weren't letting it be known. "I'm doing well. Honestly." Jessie didn't fill the silence that formed and you went on, dropping eye-contact and swirling your tea distractedly. "It was the right decision." 
"That's good," Jessie affirmed with a nod. "I mean, if you're not in love, no point in dragging things on."  
"Exactly. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us. And truthfully, it was a long time coming," you said returning a nod. You let out a quick exhale and sat back in your chair, a faint smirk now forming on your face. "And what about you? Anyone on the horizon for you?" 
A deep blush immediately began to burn on Jessie's cheeks. She forced what she hoped was an easy laugh. "Nothing on the horizon." 
You shot her a discerning look. "No one? The entire time I’ve known you you’ve never been remotely interested in anyone. So still no one?” 
"What?" Jessie defended, her voice rising in pitch. Her cheeks were on fire as she frowned at you. "I'm too busy. I'm gone like every other week, and sometimes for weeks at a time. That's not exactly the best foundation for a relationship." 
Great. Just go ahead and tell her all the reasons why you'd make a crappy partner, Jessie thought disparagingly. 
To Jessie's surprise, you smiled. 
"That right there tells me you'd be a good partner. It's very thoughtful. I mean, from what I've seen, there are a lot of others who don't afford partners - if you can call them that sometimes - the same kind of care and consideration," you relayed. "That said, life is short. Even if your schedule is crazy, if she's the right one for you, you'll make it work. And if you're the right one for her, she won't mind that your schedule is crazy. It'll make the moments that you're together that much sweeter." 
If Jessie's blush was about to fade, that last part had the opposite effect on her. All she could do was offer a tight smile. 
"I suppose that's true." 
She cleared her throat, building herself up to shift the focus of the conversation back to you.  
“Uh, you mentioned your break up was a long time coming - what did that mean?” She tried to make it sound casual, but she feared the chances of that were quite low. She added quickly, “You obviously don’t need to tell me anything. You just never really said why you broke up and I just-” 
“It’s okay. Really.” You mercifully interjected. You settled further into your chair with a heavy sigh, your gaze drawn back to the drink in your hands. You took a few moments to formulate your response. “I think it just became apparent to me that my feelings for her weren’t what they should be. She deserved more. And I do, too.”  
“That’s very mature. And takes a lot of self-awareness,” Jessie offered.  
“Thanks,” you said simply with a faint smile and a shrug.  
Jessie waited a beat to see if you would elaborate more, but you didn’t. Jessie contemplated what to say next and although she didn’t fully trust where her instincts were taking her, she went with it nonetheless.  
“Um, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but is there anyone on the horizon for you? Like, are you looking to date again?” Once more, she did her damnedest to make it sound like idle curiosity. She watched you carefully while you considered your response.  
“Mm, I’m taking my time, I suppose,” you eventually replied. “But, with the right person, I’d be all for it.” 
Jessie nodded as she continued to map out how to navigate this discussion. She wanted to push, but fear around jeopardizing your friendship confined her in a lot of ways. She had to be careful.
“And I guess you know better now what you want versus what you don’t want,” she said. You nodded as you peered over your mug at Jessie.  
“Yes, that’s true. I do.” 
Jessie was about to ask what you were looking for when your phone buzzed and the screen lit up, distracting you both.  
Jessie felt an irrational, yet thankfully fleeting, wave of jealousy come over her as she imagined the text was from your ex, as unlikely as that would be. Regardless, she studied your expression as you read the text, noting the discerning frown on your normally gentle features.  
“Everything okay?” Jessie asked.  
“Oh, yeah,” you replied, your frown dissipating as you locked your phone. “My sister’s just making some questionable decisions. Nothing serious,” you assured with a chuckle, “but she felt compelled to tell me.” You drained your drink, setting it down on the table. “It's 1:30.” You announced as you held up your phone to show the time. No wonder Jessie was so tired. "What time did we want to head out tomorrow?" 
"About 9," Jessie replied, now suddenly struggling to stifle a yawn.   
"Okay, shit. Sorry - I kept you up. I know you normally go to bed a lot earlier than this," you apologized. Jessie was quick to dismiss the notion. 
"Not at all. Well, yeah, I go to bed earlier normally, but we're on vacation. I didn't even realize it was so late," she said, hesitating for a moment before going on. "And I always enjoy our conversations." 
"Me too." 
Jessie could've beamed. It wasn’t much, but it made her happy nonetheless. She smiled, but tried to tamper it.
“I guess we should try to get some sleep though, hey?” You proposed. Jessie hoped that she was right in hearing a hint of regret in your tone. Even though Jessie didn’t want the night to end, morning was going to come quickly.
She stood and began gathering up the glasses and other items.  
"Hey, I can take mine. Don't worry." You protested, but Jessie was already walking to the kitchen with all of the dishes in hand. "Gosh," you complained lightly as you followed her in, "you never let me take care of anything. I'm still not over you carrying my luggage in for me. And Niamh's never going to let me live that down. Or maybe even you, for that matter." 
Jessie was glad she was hunched over loading items into the dishwasher otherwise you would've caught a new blush forming across her cheeks.  
"You're an 'acts of service', aren't you?" You proposed as you leaned an elbow on the table to prop up your chin.  
"Huh?" Jessie asked as she closed the dishwasher door and straightened up. 
"Love language," you elaborated. Jessie started to stumble over her words when you interjected. "It can be for anything - not just romance. Friendships too. It's just how you show you care." 
"Oh, yeah I guess, then," Jessie conceded. "Um, what are you?" 
"'Words of affirmation', for the most part. 'Quality time' is pretty high too, though," she answered.  
"Oh, so we're not that compatible.” Jessie risked the joke before she could stop herself, ensuring to tack on a teasing smirk to alleviate as much weight as possible given she broached your compatibility. 
"Excuse me?" You protested with a laugh. "That's not necessarily true. I enjoy receiving acts of service. So there's compatibility there. Do you like receiving words of affirmation or do you like quality time, I guess that's the question." 
Jessie subconsciously started scratching the back of her head and averted her gaze.  
"Um, I don't particularly like compliments, but I guess it depends on context, I don't know," she trailed off. "And I'm an introvert and I need time alone, but, if I like someone I do like spending time with them." 
"Well, it's not just strictly compliments," you corrected, drawing Jessie's eyes back. "It's like," you paused briefly, seeming to contemplate something before going on, "if I say, "Jessie, even though I didn't need you to carry my luggage in, I appreciated you doing so. It made me feel welcome and cared for. You are one of the most thoughtful and sweet people I know - you are important to me and I feel lucky to have you in my life." 
Jessie's cheeks began to burn yet again. Her heart was racing and the eye contact you held quickly became too much. She tried to distract with a roll of her eyes and an amused laugh.  
"Right," she said.
Thoughts clamored in her head and no single one stood out as the right thing to say. She was aware of how too much space was starting to fill your conversation.  
"Well, I should let you get to sleep," you said softly, relieving Jessie of the task of finishing her thoughts. Jessie cursed inwardly.  
"Oh yeah, sure," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Um, well I'll walk you to your room." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She couldn't stand how awkward she was sometimes. 
"Okay." Despite the odd proposal, you accepted with a gentle smile.  
You chatted quietly as you walked upstairs, past Jessie's room and further down the hall. You should've said goodnight right away, but instead Jessie found herself drawing out your goodbye. It didn't seem like you were in a rush, so Jessie cast aside the doubt that was crawling up inside of her. 
When you finally said 'good night', Jessie wrestled with the act of hugging you or not. She debated it heavily and was outrageously close to initiating it, but when the moment came she ended up turning on her heel and giving a small wave instead. She had to resist the urge to slam her bedroom door when she got inside over how frustrated she was with herself. 
When she finally turned off the light and got under the covers to sleep, she was wide awake. The way sleep had been pulling at her prior was now fully replaced with reflections of the night and irritation with herself. She sighed and let her arms fall heavily at her sides as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. More thoughts swirled inside her head and she screwed her eyes shut before forcing herself to breathe and trying to relax.  
Despite her best efforts, she tossed and turned for a while before finally admitting defeat and pulling out her phone to pass the time. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it was after 2:30 when she pulled up her conversation with you and sent a text with a screenshot of the test she just did.  
"Confirmed. Acts of Service. And I actually do like Words of Affirmation." 
To her surprise, three dots appeared in the bottom left of your conversation. Jessie's breath caught in her throat and she remained motionless watching the dots fade in and out. 
"I knew it. So what I'm hearing is, we are compatible lol." 
Another breath caught in Jessie's throat as she read your reply. Her chest was burning and she was grateful for the fact that this was over text. She actually had the chance to think about what she wanted to say. 
"Definitely. Though I'm not surprised." 
"Tell me more." 
Jessie fidgeted as her mind churned with possibilities. This was a moment where things could change - a moment she told herself for more than a year that she didn't want or need. You were friends. Good friends. What if she misread things again - she had before. What if she ruined everything just because she couldn't control herself. 
"Shouldn't you be asleep?" 
She chickened out. 
"I couldn't sleep." 
"Apparently, neither could you." 
Jessie exhaled shakily.  
"True." 
"Well, it's silly that we're texting. Why don't you just come over." 
Jessie's brow furrowed in deep confusion as she read your text. She reread it just to be sure.  
"We have to be up early. I don’t want to keep you up." 
She was such a coward. A heavy feeling fell over her chest making it harder to breathe. She let the phone fall against her. It buzzed. 
"Okay. Well, if you change your mind, come on over. I'm not tired, so I won't be falling asleep soon anyway." 
Jessie locked her phone and set it down on the bedside table. She rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. 
The tight, heavy feeling in her chest kept growing and nagging at her despite how she was trying to breathe and decompress. Of course she shouldn't go to your room. She should just go to sleep. And of course your offer didn't mean anything. Why would it? You were friends. Always just friends.  
What was she doing?  
She wasn't sure how much time passed before she sat up in her bed. She didn't even really realize she was doing it until she was straight up and staring at the wall ahead of her. She swallowed heavily and her heart began to beat loudly in her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the hardwood. She took a steadying breath before she stood and crept over to the door, opening it a crack. She peered down the hall and saw the faintest glow coming from your room. Was your door open? 
Jessie swallowed her trepidation and began to softly pad down the hall, mindful to make as little noise as possible. As she neared your room, she confirmed that your door was ajar. Jessie's heartbeat was loud in her head now as she slowly approached the door. She knocked very faintly before pushing it open a few inches to peek inside. 
The tension that was holding Jessie's shoulders high towards her ears suddenly fell from her and she exhaled silently upon seeing you casually laying in bed under the glow of your phone and waving her in. 
"I told you I wasn't tired," you whispered as you sat up.  
"I couldn't sleep either," Jessie told you as she quietly closed the door behind her.  
A belated self-consciousness swept over Jessie at the realization that she was standing here in her pajamas, a t-shirt and shorts. She subconsciously tugged down the hem of her shorts.  
She sees you in a t-shirt and shorts every game. Calm down, she chided internally.  
Jessie quickly took in her surroundings, now suddenly unsure of what to do. Her eyes settled upon a chair at the desk in the corner of the room. She walked over there and began turning it so she could sit.  
"Jessie, don't be silly. Just sit over here," you said as you scooted over and patted the spot next to you on the bed. 
Jessie hesitated, but didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so she nodded and came over and daintily took a seat on the far edge of the bed. Her ears burned hot as she felt you shooting her a look, coupled with a soft laugh.  
"It's okay, Jessie. Relax. It's just me." Your voice was warm and reassuring and Jessie felt tension leaving her body once again. 
Conversation started up once more and you talked further into the night. Jessie had no idea what time it was anymore, but it didn't matter, she was happy where she was and didn't want it to end. Eventually, you laid down onto your side and propped the pillow up under your head with a yawn. Jessie was about to offer to leave when you gestured to the spot next to you. 
"Lay down. Make yourself at home," you said.  
Jessie didn't want to get too in her head about this. She did this kind of thing with teammates and it didn't mean a thing. Did it mean something now? Or was it just like with her teammates - nothing. She cast the thoughts from her head and laid down on the covers. When you told her she could get under the covers, she dismissed it and even though she was chilled, she insisted she wasn't cold.  
"So, tell me," you said when a small lull formed in your conversation later on.  
"Tell you what?" Jessie asked, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  
"Tell me why you're not surprised that we're compatible," you responded lightly. 
"Oh," Jessie said, her mind suddenly sharpening at the twist in your conversation. Her previous nervousness returned, but this time a certain calm surrounded it. "Well, I mean, we've always gotten along really well. Friendship-wise.”
Old habits died hard.  
“Hm. That’s true,” you said quietly with a nod of acceptance. A couple of moments passed. “In terms of compatibility - love languages aside. What are you looking for? Not friendship-wise. You never say.” 
It was true. Jessie was very tight lipped about it, even with friends she wasn’t in love with. She endured relentless teasing about it, but she just didn’t like putting herself out there like that. However, right now, in the dark, lying next to you, things felt different.  
“I…,” she trailed off momentarily before finding her resolve and her voice. “I want someone who I can be myself with. Someone who will be my person. Who I can talk to about anything and everything. Who I can be vulnerable with – I have to be at my best all the time and for so many people, so to be able to let my guard down means a lot. But, just as easily, I want to be able to have silly and goofy moments together. Someone where doing something as simple as grocery shopping or cooking together can feel like an adventure. I don't know – just that one person who can be my anchor when I'm constantly on the move and trying to live up to others expectations, and I want to be that for them as well, even if I'm 1,000 miles away. No pressure for me – or her – to be anything other than who we are." 
“That’s beautiful. Truly. And you deserve that and more,” you said. Your gaze lingered for a moment before you went on. “Whoever you choose in the end is going to be a very lucky person.” 
“Thanks.” Jessie had to force herself not to protest. And I want it to be you, she thought. Instead, she said, “I mean, same with you.” 
Even in the dark, Jessie spied the small smile you gave her.  
“You’re too nice to me,” you said with a soft chuckle as you nestled into your pillow further. “Thank you, though.” 
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked. A shy smile formed on her face as she went on. “I mean, words of affirmation here, you deserve it. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And, yeah, I feel really lucky to have you in my life. And, um, whoever you choose to be with next…you deserve to be spoiled by them. They should take care of you,” she began to stammer, “well, not like take care of, cause you’re totally independent, which is awesome, but you know, Acts of Service.” She winced and did her best to rally and finish strong. “What I mean is they should make you feel, every day, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them. And that there’s no one else in this world for them.” 
“Wow. See? You’re amazing, Jessie. Honestly. Thank you. That means so much to me.” 
“Yeah, no worries,” Jessie quickly dismissed with a light laugh.  
Neither of you spoke for several moments and the tension became too much for Jessie, causing her to quickly change subjects.  
She wasn’t sure how much longer you talked, because the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and you were fast asleep next to her. A rush of panic went through her momentarily before she just allowed herself to relax. She debated getting up and leaving, but she indulged herself instead. It was too comfortable laying here with you and, truthfully, she may never get this opportunity again. She took in your sleeping form and before she knew it she was asleep again.  
The next time Jessie woke up, the veil of relaxation and drowsiness quickly dissipated as she looked down to see that you were cuddled into her arm. Jessie lay still as she processed the situation, but couldn’t ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. After a few moments, she steeled herself and began to carefully disentangle herself from you. Though she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take advantage.
She took one last glance at you. The first breaks of dawn started to filter into the room, casting you in warm light. A lump formed in Jessie’s throat, the feelings inside of her threatening to overflow. Jessie turned and retreated to her own room to try to catch a couple more hours of sleep. She was positive that if she managed to find sleep, she’d dream of nothing but you.
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janaispunk · 20 hours
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no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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Follow You Anywhere 5
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.
Characters: Captain Syverson
Note: still sick but still craving dick.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
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You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 
You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 
No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 
He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 
You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 
“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 
“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 
He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 
“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 
“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 
“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 
His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 
“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 
Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 
He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 
“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 
You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 
“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 
You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 
You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 
You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 
You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  
You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 
“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 
“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 
A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 
“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 
You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 
You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 
“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 
“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 
“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 
“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 
“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 
“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 
“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 
You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 
He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 
“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 
You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 
🧸
You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 
As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 
You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 
“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 
“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 
“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 
“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 
“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 
“No, um, I... just finished.” 
You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 
“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 
“Sure...” you murmur. 
He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 
Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 
You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 
Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 
“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 
“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 
“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 
“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 
“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 
Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 
You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 
He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 
You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 
You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 
You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 
You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 
You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 
“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 
“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 
“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 
“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 
You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 
“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 
“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 
“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 
You press your lips together, “mhm.” 
You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 
You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 
He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 
“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 
“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 
The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 
“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 
He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 
“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 
You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 
“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 
“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 
“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 
Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 
He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 
“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 
His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 
You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 
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sugar-plum-writer · 2 days
Text
A Heian Era Affair
Parings: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; Chaos; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader A/n: Sorry for not putting out any updates or fics for almost a month! T~T I was busy with college and sem exams! but they are finally over so yay!!!!
[If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]
@elernity @derpykirb here is the update! ^-^
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CHAPTER - 3
The sunlight basked in the small wooden house, the morning dew shimmered as the birds chirped in a lovely tune, a better alarm clock than what Gojo was used to
"Don't wash clothes like that! if you use too much strength it will rip apart!"
"I am trying god damn it!"
Wiping the sweat from his forehead he scrubbed the clothes, you guided him as you sat beside him, your hair tied up in a bun sweating yourself.
"How did humans survive this!?" he groaned
As he and you continued washing the clothes you heard a scream from him
"Ah shit!-", he bit his lip
"Oh lord what happened!?", hurriedly you took his hand and your eyes widened as blood dripped from his wrist
"This is bad wait let me get medicine!"
"Wait-"
Before he could say anything you had already left
"I can use RCT…" he whispered words barely audible as he watched you running
After some seconds he saw you holding a wooden box
"You truly are useless and cannot even wash clothes properly! How can you even call yourself the strongest!?" you nagged him as you cleaned up his wounds and bandaged him up
"Oh sorry I am not used to washing clothes using ancient methods near rivers am I?!", he argued back as the yelling continued
Unknown to you the moment you bandaged him up he had used RCT to heal it within seconds
"Phew that should do it…let's just hope you don't get an infection if you do even I cannot save your life"
Hearing your words he has never been happier to be able to use RCT
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Y/n!" a lady rushed screaming your name, causing both you and Gojo to finally stop nagging each other
"Who is she?" he whispered
"Just my neighbor, an aunty my mother knew"
"I see... I guess aunts are the same every era..."
"Oh my god, you did not tell me you got married!?" she yelped as she saw Gojo beside you
"I am not married okay!?" freaking out you tried your best to refuse her words
"What do you mean not married!? oh~ he is your boyfriend~" She nudged you and smirked as she walked towards Gojo who was screaming internally looking at you desperately for help
"He is n-!"
"Greetings! My name is Sumi Tachibana, I am Y/n's neighbor!"
Cutting you off she looked at Gojo smiling brightly
"My name is Gojo Satoru it's nice to meet you too", he smiled putting his hand out to shake her hands
"Oh~ how bold to flirt with me in front of your future wife! I am married so sorry~" she chuckled bashfully
"Huh…?", he looked at her then at you confused
"Aunty! What brought you here?" you stood between her and Gojo shielding him
"Oh right! I came to tell you the village has decided to host a festival next week so be sure to come!" she smiled warmly and left after chatting a little longer
"Flirting…what crazy conclusion is that!?" Gojo looked at you dumbstruck
"See I don't know what you knew previously but to put your hand forward to a lady after just meeting her gives the wrong signals alright" You looked at him and sighed
"Ancient times sure are crazy…"
"Oh god…" groaning you lowered your head
"What's the matter?" he looked at you
"She is now gonna tell everyone in the village that we are in a relationship"
He looked at you even more stunned than before, things were progressing too fast his brain felt fried. He realized just how big of a deal it was for him and you to be together in ancient times
"I guess…we gotta pretend to be in one"
"Do you know the significance of what you are saying!?" you looked at him shocked
"What? it's just a relationship~ I have been in many! my experience is over the charts dear" he smirked playfully as he looked at you
Link to Masterlist!
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chrysalind · 3 days
Text
sweet and sour
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pairing: suna rintarou x reader wc: 880 tags: fluff, fake dating, (real) jealousy, party setting ofc, reader wears makeup and is shorter than suna
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Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.
It had been after his last linear algebra exam, during his third consecutive hour of mourning, when it finally occurred to him that it didn't matter. Of course, it mattered in the sense that it would affect his GPA, and as a result, his job prospects, career, ability to be approved for a mortgage and become a homeowner, and of course his retirement. But in a more 'in the moment' sense, it didn't matter at all.
This was because, he'd rationalized, it had already happened and there was no use agonizing over it after the fact. And so, for a few short days, Suna abided by the belief that if he couldn't change something, he simply wouldn't bring himself to care about it.
So when you drag him into the tiny bathroom of someone's apartment with a swipe of glitter under your left eye and a frazzled expression on your pretty face, Suna is fully prepared to put his new philosophy into action.
The door shuts behind you, muffling the din of music and people and he tries not to think about how precariously close your drink is to the edge of the sink when you set it down.
"I need a favour," you begin, wringing your wrists as he tries not to fall backwards into the shower. It is, in fact, a very tiny bathroom.
"Nah," he replies, managing to right himself against the towel rack.
"'Nah'?" you repeat, jutting out your bottom lip. "But you don't even know what I'm going to ask."
He rationalizes that it can't be anything worth putting in the effort for. Therefore would it even make sense for him to hear you out? He thinks not.
However, as he eyes the door behind you, your face bobs into view, obstructing his path to escape.
"Please," you whine, dropping down from a tippy toe. "Just hear me out."
He glances once at his reflection in the mirror before his gaze slides up to the ugly white light on the ceiling.
"Fine."
"Yes," you exclaim, your elbow narrowly missing the cup. Suna looks away.
"Okay, so my ex is here with his new girlfriend," you begin, your hands moving fast, "and so I would really, really be so grateful if you could maybe, possibly, pretend that we're together."
He blinks. "Nah."
Your face falls. "But I'm gonna look like a loser out there."
He wonders if the glitter is supposed to draw attention to your eyes. If so, why just one side?
"That doesn't even make any sense," he says. "No one cares that you're single." After all, no one cares that he's single. Except for himself, sometimes, although, he's learning to let go of that.
You're pouting again. "I care. And I'm pretty sure that he cares. Chiharu said that he told the other guys on the soccer team that he was bringing her because he knew that I'd be here. Like, isn't that kind of fucked up?"
Something like irritation wriggles in his brain but he quickly shuts that down. After all, what can he really change about the situation? Even if he does pretend to be your boyfriend for tonight, your ex will continue to be a convincing piece of evidence that Neanderthals might still walk amongst modern humans. And even then, you'll still be hung up on him and things between you two will just stay the same. So why should he bother?
"I'm gonna pass," he says dryly, squeezing past you to get to the door. Your elbow brushes against the cup and it falls, clattering into the sink and splashing red liquid down the sides.
"Just tell him to go fuck himself or something," he shrugs, before twisting the doorknob. "Or just pretend he's not there at all."
"But Rin," you pout as he lets the chaos of the party flood into the small space, "I thought we were friends."
And you are friends, he thinks, as he shoulders his way back through the crowd. That's the problem.
That's the fucking problem.
So when he spots you, fifteen minutes later, with your back up to a wall and that Cro-Magnon specimen crowding you, he thinks it's finally time to seriously reconsider his philosophy.
And sometime in the five steps it takes to cross the room does he finally come to the conclusion that enlightenment just isn't for him.
"Hey, angel," he says as he turns you around to face him. Your lips are parted in surprise and the glitter reflects fuchsia and gold in the low light.
He's acutely aware that the two of you are not alone, but he can't bring himself to look away. Something like a second epiphany dawns on him.
"Sorry it took a while," he murmurs as he leans down to meet your gaze.
"But better late than never, right?"
Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.
But right now, tonight, as you let him kiss you in front of all the people you know, he decides that inner peace is entirely overrated.
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darlindeer · 15 hours
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A Good Place III
tags:fem!reader, takes place post-canon, reader is/was chronically online, reader is actually a bad person, cursing, Lucifer lowkey is having a mid-life crisis (again), Lucifer has very strong feelings about sinners, I am afraid that reader is a girlblogger, reader has daddy issues, Vaping (don't do it, is not worth it). words: 2.7k a/n: HI :D sooooo I really like this chapter, and I hope that you do too :D its a short one buuuut yeah :D ALSO I am starting a taglist soooo if you wanna be tagged do let me know ^^
part i, part ii, part iii
Do all therapists go to heaven? 
Well surely not if they are like creeps or like… malpractice? Yeah… that sounds right? 
Either way, you were sure that listening to Lucifer talk about himself and his life is definitely winning you some good person points or whatever it is they measure “goodness” by. Sure, you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart as Charlie likes to put it as but… its gotta be helping with redemption right?
“And.. uh.. Oh” He trailed off, his eyes falling on you, seeing how your half lidded eyes and sleepy look in your face “you should probably get to bed, sorry, I didn’t mean to bored you” 
“No, no… is just… your voice is soothing I guess” You half lied sitting up straight 
“Oh…” He blushed and looked away “so… uh… how are you doing?” He asked awkwardly 
“Huh?” 
“Well, after I ran out of thing to ask you I just sorta started talking about myself and you just sit there and listen” He was looking away still. He never really looked at you for longer than a couple of seconds, at least when he had your attention, sometimes during the day you’d feel his eyes burning into the side or back of your head until you turned around and he would quickly look away. But like with most things you would simply ignore it, at least you knew that he wasn’t staring because he wanted you to drop dead, like he did with Alastor. 
“Oh, uh… well… I guess I’m fine?” You shrugged “I don’t know, I… I like being around here, but it just feels like I’m stuck… I guess?” You confessed quietly as you brought your knees up to your chest, as if you were protecting yourself from the little vulnerability you let out “like I don’t fit” You mumbled even quieter than before. 
You weren’t lying to him, not like when Charlie asks and you tell her you are great because you don’t want her to worry. You felt alone still, almost two months in the hotel and you still felt out of place. 
Lucifer sucked in air through his teeth, letting out an awkward hissing sound. He really wasn’t expecting that to be your answer, you always seemed so confident and smiley throughout the day, he figured your quiet demeanor during your talks was just because you were tired not because you were sad. He was wrecking his brain to find something to say but he looked over at you when he heard you let out a giggle 
“Y’know I’m terrible at comforting people too” You said with a small smile “I think most of the time I make that exact sound, one time I just said “bummer” when a friend told me her mom died” You giggled again, before burying your head into your knees. 
“That’s horrible” He gasped looking at you, seeing how your hands gripped the sides of your legs slightly tighter and your tail, wrapped around and laid over your feet. “Sorry…” 
“I just don’t know how to… feelings properly” You groan, your voice slightly muffled 
“Hey, I’ll drink to that” He said with a small chuckle, slumping back on the couch, now staring at the wall, you didn’t say anything back. The silences between you didn’t feel awkward anymore, nor empty to Lucifer, they just were. Part of whatever this is that you are doing.
“Don’t tell Charlie…” You mumbled looking up and turning your head to him 
“Huh? Tell her what?” 
“That I said that I feel like I don’t fit…” you sighed and closed your eyes “please… I know that I'm asking you to lie to your daughter but-” 
“I won’t” He interrupted you, you opened your eyes, and for once he didn’t look away as soon as you did, but it felt weird, he was looking at you with understanding and something else… it felt weird, so this time you looked away 
“Thanks” You sighed, staring at the wall, the room was illuminated by the tv, it was on but on mute, set on some random channel, it casted a blue-ish light that would ever so often change depending on the scene of the show that was on, you found it a little odd how the entire room changed because of the light, it made the overwhelming amounts of red seem bearable, but who cares, you certainly don’t you are just looking for something to distract you from the weight that lucifer’s look was starting to weigh on you. To think that a few minutes ago you were wondering why he never looked at you for longer than 5 seconds, now you just want him to look away.
And for the first time, the silence seemed unbearable to you, you never minded before, hell! You could even say that you liked it, a break, a moment to breathe, to settle before moving onto whatever next topic Lucifer wanted to talk about. Now it just felt like you were drowning, soon you’ll be gasping for air and reaching for whatever you could get a hold of to escape the crushing weight of it. 
You let go of your legs, stretching them out and took a deep breath. 
“I think I am going to go to bed” You said standing up from the sofa, “goodnight” You flashed him a small smile before walking away, giving him a small wave 
“Night…” he mumbled waving back 
・༓☾  ☽༓・ 
Lucifer knew he hadn’t really made a “personal” connection with you, you were… friends… of sorts. You’d talk and listen to him, and he did the same, but there was something different about it, like a weird shame… that was part of the reason he had asked you to keep your conversations a secret, but he wasn’t quite sure why he felt this weird encapsulation shame whenever he was around you. Even though you two would only speak during nighttime, whenever he had the time to “spare you” a glance during the day, he couldn’t help but stare until you turned to look at him, granted you always looked slightly annoyed when you turned which only made him turn his gaze away. That only led him to believe that you felt this same weird feeling he had about this “relationship”. 
Sure, during your talks you were nice, you smiled and looked at him when he spoke, you gave him undivided attention, and he knew that you did too because there had been a few times you recalled things he had said, little throw away things that he would not have remembered, but you did, you’d tilt your head to the side, your ears turning outwards a little, your eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion before you asked about the small inconsistency on the story he was telling you, it wasn’t like he was lying, he wouldn’t lie, he would just misspeak, but you noticed. 
And that attention to detail wasn’t something exclusive to him, he noticed how you would randomly recall in the same way about the other residents, same expression, same tilt of your head as you asked them about the smallest of details or inconsistencies in their stories, Alastor specifically seemed to detest this about you. 
Maybe it was the hypocrisy he was performing, so adamantly disliking sinners and actively avoiding them publicly, even slightly resisting his darling daughter’s request for him to try, only for him to seek you out and practically beg you to talk to him. There was definitely… ways… for him to learn about the things you told him about, but maybe it was because you were a sinner that he wanted to hear it from you, someone that had actually experienced it, not just read it off a book or recall old old memories. 
Any way, you were a plague, there was no other way he could describe it. You had infested his mind, everything made him think of you. And it didn’t help that he literally would see you everywhere since he had been staying at the hotel to help Charlie contact heaven again. He could hide away in his studio/room for most of the day, but if he wanted to eat, or have some down time, chances were that he would see you, even if it was only a glimpse of you, your image would be plastered all over his mind. He could make a chart of every outfit you had worn this week. 
“Dad…Dad?” Charlie waved her hand in front of Lucifer’s face until he reacted and looked her way again since it seemed he was staring at the floor before “did you listen to anything I said?...” 
“Uh no, yeah totally” He said confidently looking up at his daughter with an awkward smile “but you could repeat it… just to confirm I got all of it”
“Right… so both Angel and Y/N are out today and I know we should focus on getting sinners into heaven but I think we should brainstorm some advertising! To get more sinners in here!...” Charlie continued to ramble on about one of her ideas, going full on the theatrics. 
“So where oh… where did Y/N go?” He asked after Charlie finished, looking at his nails as if to seem uninterested in the question he asked. 
“Uh, she said she had something to do, didn’t give much information, kinda just said be back later” Charlie said hand on her face as she thought back to this morning “and Angel had to work so, it’s a day off for them today at the hotel at least” 
“Right right, Andy is at work and Y/N is just out?” He hummed, still trying to look uninterested 
“Yes… ANGEL is at work and Y/N is somewhere, I think she said something about a sale, uh a five finger discount, so like 50% off probably!” Charlie said in a hopeful tone and then Lucifer tried to explain that you were probably shoplifting without crushing all her hopes. 
・༓☾  ☽༓・ 
You waltzed into the hotel near 3am, several bags hanging in your arms, holding your phone in one hand as the other held up a pink vape up to your lips, the little light at the bottom and the unbelievably bright screen of your phone, lighting up the mostly dark room. 
The only thing that could be heard was the clacking of your boots as you walk. You exhaled the smoke as you started walking up the stairs, using the light of your phone as a guide.
When you finally got to your room you found no other than lucifer, kinda just pacing in front of your door 
“Oh… hey” you said walking to the door and opening, he was wearing pajamas, like an actual two set pajamas, light blue with little duckies all over “you… uh been waiting long?” 
“You were out all day, uh andy got here before you” he said looking as you walked in, standing at your doorway 
“And you were worried?” you asked looking at him “are you just gonna stand there?... who's andy?”
“Y’know tall, spider fella” He raised his hand as far up as he could
“Oh, Angel” you said and nodded, taking out the several boxes from the bags “so, you were worried?” You asked in a teasing tone, your tail wagging slowly and low 
“Well you haven’t been in hell for long and those sinners out there… they are…” he followed with a long strained groan “t-they are violent and… and depraved-” 
“I just went shopping” You interrupted and shrugged “so like, I’ve been posting like a bunch of stuff on sinstagram and tiktok and like I’ve gotten a BUNCH of followers and like a couple stores were like, “come take a bunch of our stuff for free and just post a video or post a picture at the store” and well I love free stuff so I went and then after they were like “hey! Lets go to the club!” and my mom always told me to never deny a free drink or free anything so I went!” You explained taking out a pair of long boots “can you like, come in, its bugging me that you are at the door, I have… a poof you can sink into” 
“Oh yea yea, suuuuure, just come into your room, okay” He said quietly actually stepping in 
“Close the door behind you please” You pointed at it and he closed it, before just standing there awkwardly making you giggle a little “you can relax sire, is not like I have my panties on the floor” you giggled before looking around just to make sure “yeah no panties on the floor” 
“Haha sire, ha!” He chuckled to “himself”, he can’t really recall a moment where you had addressed him properly… or like at all… now that he is thinking about it you haven’t even said his name, not that he can remember. And it made his chest tight, he never has been fond of the tittle’s, tho he always wants to be addressed with respect. 
“I heard that” You said in a sing-songy tone “you can sit on the poof or my bed or… the floor, my rug is pretty soft” You pointed around “if you want to stay… you seem… kinda wiged out” 
“No is just… y'know your room, is a personal thing… and we… are like…. Not like that” He mumbled 
“Right… uh… right” You mumbled looking at the clothes in your bed. All of the sudden you felt as awkward as he did now, and when you feel awkward you feel vulnerable and that puts your defenses down, the delicately constructed walls you had built up on uneven ground, cracking at the first disturbance “y’know I… uh, I know it's you who normally asks the questions but…”
“Yeah?” 
You cleared your throat still not looking his way gripping the garment on your hands “I just… I don’t get it… why me?” 
“Why you what?” he questioned, head tilting to the side slightly 
“Why ask me? I just… everyone else in this hotel had far more interesting lives than I did and I just… why?” 
“Its because… well they have been dead for so long and you are the freshest” He shrugged, not really getting why you are asking it seemed like an obvious reason why he choose you 
“No. because… no, like.. I think I am also the youngest, I lived 24 years only, I, I… I barely experienced anything, and I’m also like… Like I barely did anything to get into hell, I mean, lie, steal, scam, I’m pretty sure that a visit to any catholic church would have saved me from all of this-” You continued your ramble, now moving around your room, 
You were sort of right, yes, a visit to any church would have definitely saved you, but you shouldn’t have gone to heaven, no, he would have never met you otherwise, and although he can’t fully admit it, he enjoys you, heaven doesn’t deserve you, they couldn’t appreciate you, with their stupid strict rules. You were right, you were barely a sinner, maybe that was why he didn’t mind you as much as the others 
“I mean all I was… was a hedonistic party girl that stole wallets and and!-” 
“Well, maybe that’s why” Lucifer shrugged “you are not like the rest of them, you aren’t violent or sick or depraved-”
 “maybe a little depraved” you whispered 
“And that’s why I like talking to you, you don’t have some sort of sick twisted version of earth in your mind, you didn’t see a pond with duck and think “that’s a perfect place to dump a body”, you saw calming place, you saw earth for what it was, I like that”
You stayed quiet, glancing at him, he was still standing by the door, and you were in the middle of the room, he was looking at you, with almost a sad look, like pity but different, he wasn't looking away or just past you. 
“You should go to bed” He gave you a closed eye smile before turning around and opening the door “Charlie has a big day planned for tomorrow so you should definitely get some rest, good night” 
“Good night” You said softly watching as he left, closing the door behind him
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
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@boogiemansbitch
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noxturnalpascal · 1 day
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Follower Milestone🎆🎉🚨
NEVER did I think - when I posted my first story here almost 7 months ago - that I would have 500 people wanting to read what I'm writing. Even more amazing is how many of you I consider friends. Some of you are my mutuals and I talk to you very often if not daily, some of you I see interact with my posts and I appreciate your support, and some of you I haven't gotten to know yet.
I'm not the best with social media - sometimes I introvert and feel like no one gives a hoot what I post so why should I bother - but I'm always here if anyone ever wants to talk about anything. My fics, your fics, other fics, Pedro in general, LIFE in general.
If you're still here and reading this post - I've been wracking my brain over what I should do to celebrate this follower milestone and I honestly can't think of one thing to do. So you can decide!
I've turned on anons so you can: 🩷 - Send me a random Pedro pic and I'll send you one back 💌 - Pop in my Asks and tell me a little something about yourself or ask something about me. Let's get to know each other! 🖼️ - Request a Moodboard (you can look at previous ones I've made under the tag #custom moodboard on my blog) ✍️ - Request a Drabble (500-ish words, any Pedro Character) 👀 - Ask for a couple lines from an upcoming chapter in the works or a sneak peek of a WIP I haven't announced yet 💻 - Recommend a Fic to me that you like (even your own)! Maybe I've read it already and we can chat about it or maybe it's new to me and then I can read it and we can both be obsessed with it.
I hope to hear from some of you, but either way thank you for the support. It's been so fun to write and read with with all of you and I look forward to doing it even more in the future.
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vodika-vibes · 9 hours
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Absolutely forgot about your new event! Congrats on the five hundred follower count vod'ika! I may send in a few, but for this oneI'm going with my birth stone, clone husband, and fave season <3
May I have Garnet with Rex in summer, where maybe he spots reader (fem or gn!) looking extremely uncomfortable from unwanted attention (nothing inherentlyuncomfortble in terms of sexually harassing or being violent, but just highly intimidating) when it's dusk? And Rex shoos the person away?
Hero
Summary: Rex’s favorite part of the day is when he’s able to pull away from his work to spend time with his girl. He’s not so impressed, though, when he goes to find her and sees her getting threatened by someone nearly a foot taller than her.
Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader
Word Count: 658
Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: Thank you! I hope you like this story. Protective Love is hard while having a word count limit, lol, but I hope you like it anyway~
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This is his favorite part of the day.
His idiots, and he calls them that with all of the love in his heart, have been released to go and get drunk or whatever it is that they do with their free time. And he’s finally able to leave the barracks to go and meet up with his girl.
It’s hot and miserable outside, which means they’ll probably head back to her place to lounge by her pool.
For a moment, just a moment, Rex allows himself to fantasize about his stunning love clad in a blue bikini, while the setting sun paints her with golden highlights and makes her look like an actual goddess deserving of worship.
And then he shoves the thought to the back of his mind, and continues to their meeting spot.
His good mood remains, right up until he gets to the meeting spot and sees his cyare looking very uncomfortable with a man towering over her. She takes half a step back, and then man advances on her, to remain right in her personal space.
Rex scowls as he inserts himself into the situation. No one is allowed to make his cyare uncomfortable. “Sorry I’m late, cyare.” Rex says as he presses himself between his cyare and the stranger.
He feels her hand curl around his bicep, her touch light, “You’re not late, I showed up early.”
Rex lightly pats the hand wrapped around his arm, and he smiles slightly when she drops her hand. And then he focuses his attention on the stranger, who looks deeply, deeply annoyed that Rex interjected.
“Can we help you?” Rex’s voice is mild, but there’s a thread of durasteel and a hint of violence there as well. His cyare likely won’t pick up on it…but the stranger definitely does based on how he grimaces.
“Nah. I was just…” The stranger pauses, “It doesn’t matter.” He turns and stalks away. Rex doesn’t turn to his cyare, though, until he’s sure that no one is going to start anything.
And then he turns to his cyare, and all of the negative emotions he’d been feeling fade away as though they were never there.
“I’m sorry,” She says, as she steps into his space, sliding into his welcoming arms, “I didn’t mean for you to have to get involved.”
“Hey,” He rests his chin on her head, “It’s my genuine pleasure to be able to protect you, cyare.”
She hums softly, “You shouldn’t have to protect me. I should be safe here.”
“Well, until you are, you have me to be your sword and shield.”
A laugh falls from his cyare, “Oh, when did you become charming, Rex?” She asks as she pulls away to look up at him, fondness in her gaze.
Rex’s face heats, “Well…you know…Jesse-”
She laughs again, “You don’t have to change yourself for me, Rex. I love you just as you are. Awkwardness and all.” She takes his hand in hers, “Now, let’s go home. It’s hot.”
“We’re going swimming?” He asks, maybe more than a little hopeful.
She grins and nods, “I bought us matching swimsuits. They were on sale.”
“What kind of swimsuits?” Rex asks as he falls into step with her.
“For you?”
“For you.”
She giggles and and moves so she’s walking backwards in front of him, one finger coming out to lightly tap his nose, “It’s a secret~”
“That means it’s a bikini, right?” Rex asks, not even bothering to hide the direction his thoughts have gone.
“It means it’s a secret.” She leans in, “But I promise you’ll like it.”
“Cyar’ika. You could walk around in a burlap sack, and I’d still like it.” He pauses, “Or ribbons-”
“Really? Ribbons?”
He smiles innocently, “If you want.”
“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Fives and Jesse.”
“Yeah, but they give the best ideas.”
She shakes her head with a laugh, “Come on, Rex. Let’s go home.”
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buckactuallys · 2 days
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teaser tidbit tuesday
@clusterbuck tagged me (thank you emma mwah) here’s a little bit of the prompt fill i’m working on right now (i’ll probably actually post it later today):
“This is so much better than going shopping,” Christopher breathes a few days later, staring up at a model of da Vinci’s Flying Bicycle.
“What do you mean?” Buck asks. “Were you supposed to go shopping today?”
“Yeah, Dad said we need to get me new jeans and shoes,” Chris says distractedly. “And I think Marisol was supposed to come for dinner. But we can do that another time, I like you better anyway.”
Buck doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, to any of the things Chris has just told him. Should he encourage him to make more of an effort with his dad’s girlfriend? But Eddie has never mentioned Chris being anything but nice to her, so it sounds like things are fine – and Buck can’t make him like her more than he does.
And– Eddie canceled his plans for him again? It makes warmth spread in his chest, a pleased little creature stretching in there. As a best friend, he should probably tell Eddie to prioritize his girlfriend, but he already knows he won’t do that. Maybe that makes him a terrible person, but it’s not like he’s telling Eddie to pick him over her. Eddie’s doing that all by himself, and Buck is selfish enough to let him.
i tag @thatbuddie @hattalove @oatflatwhite @capseycartwright @homerforsure @try-set-me-on-fire and @shitouttabuck if you want to!!
#p
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fenricken · 6 hours
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You Keep Slipping From My Grasp 4/7
AO3
Ship: Spirit Halloween
first
prev
The rain fell heavily, washing the blood on the ground away as he stepped toward the woman. She was hunched over, sobbing, clutching her dead son to her chest. She glanced up at him as he approached, mouthing silent prayers.
“What happened here?” he asked, carefully ignoring the dead bodies around.
“They came… for a box my family has guarded for a long time. They killed my husband and my son, and they’ve taken my Catherine… They’ll torture her to make her speak its secrets. Please! Please, help her!”
She reached out a hand to him, imploringly. He crouched down to take it.
“I will.”
————
Danny stood before Clockwork, adjusting his new cowboy hat. Maddie and Jack stood behind Clockwork tinkering on the Fenton Omega Siphoner, and arguing over the aesthetics of the machine.
“I have already sent Dani out to help the Justice League locate Batman’s cape. Hopefully we should receive word on her success soon.” Clockwork began, “In the meantime, we do still need someone to make sure Batman doesn’t rush forward too quickly, lest he build up too much energy before we can stop him. Are you ready?”
“Always ready for bat-sitting duty. I’d hope he’s doing something  a bit calmer this time, but I suppose there’s no chance of that happening.” Danny responded, pointing to his hat.
Clockwork just gave his usual cryptic smile before opening a portal for Danny to step through.
————
“Roooooobin. Rooooooooobin.”
Tim whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.
“Oooh, new fit?” Poltergeist asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Ugly cowl, but I like the rest of it.”
Tim lowered his bo staff at her, readying himself for whatever chaotic ‘game’ she tried to rope him into this time.
“Your city’s on fire. You bats trying out some new defense mechanism or something? Like, you think no rogue would want to take over Gotham if it’s a pile of rubble and ash?” She turned in a circle, surveying the chaos Gotham was under.
“What do you want, Poltergeist?”
“Well, so like, Batman’s stuck in time, right? And-”
“How do you know that?!” Red Robin cut in. He had been struggling to convince everyone that Batman was still alive ever since he found those paintings on the walls of the Batcave. Suddenly, here was Poltergeist who seemed to know something about it, but he couldn’t trust her. She was unpredictable, and running into her could mean leaving with anything as benign yet uncomfortable as soaked socks or as irritating and hindering as being cursed to only speak dead languages for the next 3 days.
And things only got worse if she was tagging along with Klarion. Fortunately, he wasn’t in sight, so it's unlikely he was here with her.
“What do you want?”
She smiled slightly at him. “Oh! I want to get Batman back where he belongs before he dies or explodes everything.”
Explodes everything?
“I mean, Gotham’s got a grumpy quota and since you’re his mini-me I figured you’d start trying to take it on and that’d be so boring.” She raised her pointer fingers to the side of her head, imitating Batman’s cowl and adopted a nasally voice. “I don’t have time to play, Poltergeist. Gotham needs me. I have to go stalk Penguin, and then I need to go brood on my favorite gargoyle.”
“So you want to help me find Batman so that I will… be able to play with you?”
“Well, that, but also if he makes his way to the present day on his own, he’ll have built up enough of something called Omega Energy to make all of reality go ka-blooey, and I actually really like this universe. Top 10, easily.”
Tim held up his hand to stop the oncoming ramble while he compartmentalized.
First, Poltergeist knew Bruce was lost in the time stream and seemed to want to help.
Second, Bruce was making his way back to the present, and by doing so was becoming a living bomb
Third, Poltergeist is a multiversal being???
That last one can probably be ignored for now.
“If I were to let you help me find Batman, where do you suggest we start? I’ve been tracking down artifacts I think he’s left behind  to try and convince the Justice League to help us-”
“Psh. Justice League Shmustice League. My dad and my Nana and Pops are already working on it. We just need to find the cape he was sent back in time with for them. Besides, I can probably convince Wonder Woman to help us get the Justice Dorks to help out once we get the cape if we really need to.”
What.
“What?”
“My grandparents are building a thingy-thing to suck all the Omega Energy out of Batman so he’s not a bomb. My dad’s hanging out with him to keep him from dying or something, and we’re supposed to find his cape so we can safely yoink him out of the time stream.”
“I didn’t know you had parents??? What do they do while you’re here breaking things???”
Poltergeist shrugged “King things I guess. And I only have a dad.”
“King things???”
She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Dad said he last saw Batman’s cape in the Batcave.”
“You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not taking you to the Batcave.”
Poltergeist landed on her feet, and stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back, caught in her gaze for what felt like an eternity, as he felt invisible fingers trickle up his spine. Whispers started low in his ears, building to a crescendo. It was getting too much to bear, until he broke eye contact and looked away. All of a sudden, it stopped. Tim heaved a big sigh.
“I’m… kinda fighting with the current Batman, so we’ll have to sneak in.”
She punched both arms into the air, “YES!”
Tim turned, flicking his cape and walking off, not waiting to see if she’d follow.
“Poltergeist, when this is over you are going to be answering my questions.”
He heard her blow a raspberry at his back, but kept walking.
————
He followed their trail easily enough, the rain trailing after him. As he reached his destination, men came out to fight him, readying pistols, but he made short work of them easily enough.
With his memory having returned in bits and pieces, it had been easy to fashion metal into bat shapes aerodynamic enough to hit true when thrown, and it was these he’d used to disarm the men.
These memories were useful. The ones of children with blurry faces less so, haunting him as they stayed just out of his complete grasp. A constant reminder of how lost and alone he was.
He steadily made his way to the headquarters, where he figured they were keeping Catherine. He whirled around, sensing someone approaching from behind. It was the man with white hair, again.
“Seems you’ve got this well enough in hand, but I hope you don’t mind if I’d tag along all the same.”
“Why?”
The white haired man smiled slightly. “Will you not believe that I just want to help you?”
He stared, unblinking and quiet. Memories from before had proven this a good method to get more information.
His target stared back, also quiet and unblinking. It wasn’t long before he started shifting, and not much longer before he finally spoke again. Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, he muttered “Just like Dani, I swear…”
Louder, the man said, “I’ve not known you to be the kind of man to ever be on the wrong side of a cause. Whatever you’re up to, I just want to help.”
He squinted at the man, trying to find any evidence of a lie, but the man just appeared open and honest.
“No guns,” he says, before turning back around and leading the white haired man on towards the headquarters.
As they got closer, they noticed two men standing guard. He deployed smoke bombs to cover their approach, sneaking closer with his companion close behind. They were spotted, but the smoke did its work, scaring the two guards and allowing him and his companion to disappear from view again.
“How you gonna tell me there’s no such things as ghosts now???” One of them whimpered, apparently to his white-haired friend’s delight, as he broke out in giggles.
As the smoke continued to grow, he and his friend snuck around the two, tricking them into fighting each other.
He broke through into the offices in the back. They were unfortunately empty.
“Already gone!” He said, slamming a hand on the desk. His companion stood at the window.
“Not long though, look!”
When he spotted their carriage speeding away through the window, he knew he had to act quickly. He launched himself out of the window, and onto the tarp covering the wagon.
An explosion sounded behind him, but he focused on the task ahead of him. His friend always seemed to find his way back, so he’d have to trust he’d do it again.
The ensuing fight was nothing pretty, little more than mad scrambling as he fought to hold his balance, dodge bullets, and wrestle the men actually in the cart so he could get away with the Catherine and her family’s box.
Looking ahead, he saw they were quickly approaching the dock, and a man who was walking down it. Thinking quickly, he swung his body-weight around, tipping the wagon over and sending everyone sprawling. 
The man who had been at the dock had acted quickly, grabbing the young woman and holding her protectively behind him. He stood up, adding to the obstacles that stood protecting Catherine from her kidnappers. Only 3 men remained. From the snippets he heard as two of them fought, he figures the two fighting must’ve been the masterminds behind the plot and the third still in the distance was a gun-for-hire. Taking out his weapons of choice, he quickly dispatched the two men.
Catherine tugged on his cloak. He turned to face her, seeing that she had opened up the box, and was showing him what was inside.
It was Jack Valor’s journal.
He wanted to reach out–to see what Jack had added since they parted, but the gun-for-hire had caught up to them by then.
“My employers may have been dealt with, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Draw.”
He stood up straight, reaching for more of his weapon of choice. Over the shoulder of the gun-for-hire, he saw another man approaching quickly, white-haired. His friend.
A loud bang echoed, and he felt pain in his side. He stumbled, too close to the edge of the dock, and as he fell over he heard one last cry of ‘BAT–’.
And everything went dark.
————
Shit.
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
As if Batman stumbling towards the present through who-knows-when wasn’t bad enough, now he’s SHOT???
Danny quickly ripped a portal back to Clockwork’s lair.
“Please tell me you’ve almost got the machine ready.” Danny said after confirming his parents were in the room.
“Almost! Just one problem, sweetie…” His mom said, looking over at her husband so he’d finish.
“Batman needs to die. Or at least be very close to death!” Jack said, ending with a laugh.
“Basically, we can get this machine to suck out the Omega Energy, but it’s tightly bonded with Batman’s life energy, so it’s extremely risky unless we can find a way to diminish his life energy.”
Danny groaned, putting his face in his hands. “It’s just one thing after another! He’s just been shot. Would that bring him close enough?”
His dad tilted his head back and forth, considering. “Likely not, unless he was in a pretty bad way. In any case, we asked Sam and Tucker to take a look into it!”
“We’ve already found something, actually.” Sam said, having entered the room. Tucker followed behind her.
“There’s an herb that I was able to locate, which should slow his heart down to extreme levels, to the point his heartbeat would be pretty undetectable. Only problem is that his heart would have to be jump-started afterward by a great shock.”
“Clockwork let me take a closer look at his monitors into Batman’s original time and place, and I was able to determine that they have defibrillator technology that can administer an electrical shock needed to get his heart pumping again, as well as adrenaline injections in case we’d need the extra boost.” Tucker continued.
Maddie clapped her hands together. “Excellent! If we can get the Justice League to set up the anchor point on the Watchtower, we can pull Batman to that point and perform everything there! It’d probably work best to do it in his original time as well, to avoid any potential effects that could crop up from being in the wrong time when we remove the Omega Energy and try to stabilize his system.”
“Great, some good news.” Danny said, tension leaving his body. He turned to Clockwork, who had been quiet thus far. “How’s Dani’s work coming along? Will we be ready to proceed soon?”
“Dani and Red Robin have recovered Batman’s cape, and have moved it to the Watchtower. I believe Dani was able to recruit Wonder Woman’s help into getting the rest of the Justice League in line to receive Batman.”
 ————
“Red Robin! Did you seriously bring Poltergeist into the cave??? What were you thinking?”
Before Tim could reply, Poltergeist raised a hand to point at Dick-as-Batman.
“AAH! It’s the cops! Run!”
Poltergeist placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him and the cape through the ceiling of the batcave and up in the open air of Gotham. As Tim caught sight of Wayne Manor his head whipped towards Poltergeist, hoping she wouldn’t make any connections.
She was staring at him, lips pressed together, looking a bit like a frog.
He was quiet, waiting for her to say something.
She blew a breath of air out, letting her lips buzz.
“Listen, you keep my secret, and I won’t tell anyone Batman’s secret id is some rich fruitloop.”
“...What secret?”
She pivoted them somewhere Southeast.
“That sometimes I can be responsible. Let’s go see Wonder Woman.”
AN:
It's definitely been longer than I had planned since the last update, rip.
Not going to lie, this is like my second ever fic and I definitely thought it'd be a bit easier to get back into the habit of writing. Thought I was making it easier on my self by strongly sticking to the plot of an existing story, but I think that's been an obstacle in and of itself.
Always a little worried that the language is a bit stuffy or things aren't being clear.
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woojoongstreasure · 22 hours
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Unexpectedly | Chapter 01
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Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Idol!Reader
Summary: When the company Y/N is signed with announces its closure, she feels as though her career as a soloist is over. So when KQ offers Y/N a contract, she jumps at the chance if it means she can work (and fall in love) with her best friend, Wooyoung.
Warnings: none for this chapter. Disclaimers and warnings for all the whole series are placed on masterlist post.
Word Count: 1,080
Screenshots: 12
Tag List: Open. To join - leave a comment on the masterlist post, send in an ask or fill out my permanent tag list form.
Unexpectedly Masterlist
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Wooyoung's high-pitched cackle mixed with her mum's laughter fills Y/N’s ears as she enters the grounds of her mother's home. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head she grumbles to herself as she climbs the steps to the front door. 
"Aish, I should have known he’d get here before me. I bet he came straight here as soon as she invited him for dinner." 
She goes to reach for the door handle just as her phone begins to ring. Grumbling to herself again, she reaches inside her pocket and pulls out the ringing device. Seeing her manager’s name and number flashing on the screen, she quickly answers it. "Sang-U-nim, I just arrived at my eomma’s house."  
No matter the time or what she's doing, she always makes sure to answer his calls. He is more than just a manager to her. He has been by her side since the day she found out she would be debuting. He became her mentor, her work father. He has always been there to uplift her when she needed it and never let her ego grow too big. If she needed to hear something, he would be the one to tell her. He has become her closest confidant in the company, and she trusts his opinion and advice more than anyone else. 
"I won't keep you long," he assures her. "I just wanted to let you know that I asked around about Yoon Jun. He's the real deal. Hae-Joon worked with him back when they were both at SM Entertainment. She said he's a dedicated worker, takes excellent care of the talent under him, and is highly respected." 
"So, should I schedule a meeting with him?"  
"You should definitely make time to meet with him."  
"Will you come with me? I’ll let them know you and I are a packaged deal."  
"I didn't want to discuss this over the phone," he sighs. Y/N can sense the sadness in his voice. "I've decided it's time for me to take a step back from the entertainment industry. I want to prioritize spending more time with my family and being there for them."  
Though her heart breaks a little, she is happy for him. “That makes me a little sad but I’m happy for you, Han Sang-U-nim. Your beautiful wife and daughters need you much more than I do.” 
Y/N had met his family many times, even shared meals with them. She loves them just as much as she loves Sang-U. 
“You’ll be fine, kid.” 
“I know,” she smiles. 
“Whatever decision you make, just know you have my… our support. We’ll always be watching and cheering you on.” 
“Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll always appreciate it and you.” 
“Good luck with everything,” he smiles and ends the call. 
After slipping her phone back into her pocket, she gently wipes away the tears that she hadn’t noticed until now. With a sigh, she steps into her mother's house. Taking off her coat, she hangs it on the coat rack and carefully places her shoes next to Wooyoung's.  
"Eomma!" she calls out as she enters the living room but finds it empty. Hearing her mother's response from the kitchen, she makes her way towards the sound.  
In the cozy kitchen, she finds Wooyoung wearing an apron, assisting her mother in chopping vegetables. "I got the stuff you asked me to bring," she informs her, placing the bag on the counter before embracing her mother tightly. "Is there anything I can help with?" she asks, moving to give Wooyoung a back hug. 
He stopped chopping up the vegetables and gently placed the knife on the counter before turning in her arms, hugging her tightly and placing a kiss to her forehead. It's been months since the childhood friends last saw each other in person. Being able to see him again brings her some relief from everything that's going on. 
“Are you okay?” he asks. 
“Can we talk later?” she asks him as he lets her go and nods his head. 
She smiles and starts helping get everything ready for dinner. 
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After dinner, Y/N's mother settled on the sofa to catch her favorite shows before bedtime, as Wooyoung and Y/N took care of cleaning up the table and washing the dishes. The duo exchanged smiles and playful banter, making the task seem less like a chore.  
“What did you want to talk about?” Wooyoung eventually asks, placing the plates away in their designated space.  
"I got a message from someone at KQ," she tells him, her soapy hands placing a pot on the counter beside the sink as she washes the last of the dishes. 
"KQ?" Wooyoung questioned, his eyes widening in surprise, indicating he was unaware of it. "Who was it from?"  
"Yoon Jun," she answered, drying her hands with a clean dish towel. She grabbed her phone, opened the message, and showed it to him.  
He took her phone and read the message. "He's one of the new managers. Sannie mentioned he heard him talking about signing someone who wasn't a trainee. I'm assuming that's you. But you already have Sang-U. Won't he be following you wherever you go?" 
 Y/N shook her head. "Sang-U is stepping down. He wants to focus more on his family." 
Wooyoung nodded, understanding the situation. "I see. What are you going to do?” 
“I’ll probably message Yoon Jun back, make time to meet and see what him and KQ have to offer,” she shrugs, cleaning the last pot.  
“If you’re unsure, think about this,” he starts. “I’m there, we’ll get to see each other a lot more than we usually do. That’s the biggest pro if you move to KQ.” 
“And the con?” she questions, a soft smile on her face. 
“There are no con’s,” he says, putting away the last pot and turning back to face her. “There might be one con.” 
“What’s that?” she asks. 
“I’ll have to share you with more than just Yeosang,” he pouts. 
“Are you worried I'm going to end up loving them more than you?” 
“I’m more worried that one of them will fall in love with you and steal you from me,” he corrects her, still wearing a pout. 
“No one can steal me from you, Youngie. Many have tried and they’ve all failed,” she assures him. 
As they continued to clean up, their conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about their favorite moments from their trainee days and sharing dreams for the future. 
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