#spiral pieces always take a hot minute
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WIP of mr micheal distortion
#wip#art#tma#fanart#micheal distortion#probably not gonna finish this for awhile so I’m putting it here#spiral pieces always take a hot minute
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baby, oh baby ; satoru gojo
pairing satoru gojo x f!reader
word count 1.2k
synopsis gojo is surprisingly good at caring. (or: he comforts you while you get morning sickness and start spiraling).
content contains thr*wing up (morning sickness), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, domestic fluff, soft!gojo, reassurance
Satoru Gojo knows he’s a dead man from the minute he swings open the bathroom door and finds you curled up by the toilet.
Even in his shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have clearly seen better days, with your hair all messed up and your lips chapped, Gojo thinks you are absolutely adorable. Beautiful, even.
He tells you this, thinking it’ll cheer you up, but all you do is narrow your pretty little eyes at him.
“You,” you practically snarl at him. “You did this to me!”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Now, honey, I know it’s been a while since you took a biology class, but it takes two of us to, you know—” He gestures to your stomach, which still isn’t showing much of a bump since it’s only the first trimester, but you get the message. He decides he should have just shut up whenever you send him an absolutely scathing glare.
“It’s all my fault.” He immediately changes his tune. “You’re right, honey, I am an awful person for getting you pregnant. You should kill me for my transgressions.”
“You want to make me a single mother now?�� You snap at him.
“Okay, I see that that was the wrong thing to say.” Gojo tries to give you a soothing smile to calm you down, but it comes off as more of a nervous grimace. “I would never die early and let you raise our wonderful child alone. As a matter of fact, I refuse to die only until you tell me it’s okay to do so!”
“Satoru.” You close your eyes, opening the toilet lid, anticipating another bout of morning sickness to come spilling out your mouth. “Get out.”
“Nah. That’s the one thing I can’t do.” He dares to take another step into the bathroom, frowning at how cold the marble tiles are. It can’t possibly be comfortable for you to be kneeling on the floor like this, especially since you’re throwing up last night’s dinner.
“Satoru, I’m not being funny right now. I’m seriously about to vomit, and you won’t want to be here.”
He kneels down by your side, gathering your hair in his hand and pulling it all behind your shoulders. “I’m not being funny, either. I’ll stay by your side no matter what.”
You don’t reply to his sweet comment, even though you really want to. Instead, you actually do make good on your word, and only after you flush the toilet does he bother saying anything else.
“Do you feel a bit better now?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know!” You shut your eyes, leaning against him, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. Being pregnant sounded hot during the heat of the moment when the baby was being made, but now reality is hitting, and you’re already crying about how ugly maternity clothes are. You look like a wreck right now, and you’re barely nine weeks in with the pregnancy. Meanwhile, Satoru looks fan-fucking-tastic, as he always does.
His hand finds yours easily, and he intertwines your fingers together. He starts to absentmindedly fiddle with your wedding ring as he talks.
“What’s bothering you?”
You know that while Satoru was pursuing you, there was a long line of women all excited and ready to be the one by his side. You know that Satoru sometimes is a certified flight risk, running away from intimacy when the feeling gets too overwhelming for him. You know that Satoru is the only man capable of breaking your heart, and he’s subsequently the only man who would be able to piece it back together. Even with a ring and a legal certificate binding you two together, there are still annoying little doubts running in the back of your mind that has only worsened through your anxiety of life literally being grown inside of you and unbalanced hormones.
“Everything.” You tell him, and it’s not even a joke or an exaggeration.
“Well, tell me something that’s bothering you now. Something I can solve.” He adds on this last sentence, already knowing that you would most likely ask him for the impossible just to be funny. As conceited as he acts to the outside world, Satoru is surprisingly caring and observant towards others.
“What if our baby is ugly?” You look up at him, gauging his reaction.
At first, his eyes widen, and then he laughs. You can tell it’s genuine because you can feel the way it comes from his chest.
“It has us as its parents. With both our genes combined, it won’t have much to worry about.”
“No! I’m serious! Haven’t you heard the saying that two pretty people make an ugly baby?”
“Well, we’ll be the exception.”
“I’m being serious, Satoru! Your eyes are kinda scary to look at sometimes. Our baby will need brown contacts if it inherits your eyes.”
Oh, so because you’re emotionally fragile, you’re allowed to make comments about his eyes? Satoru snorts. You better be lucky he loves you so much.
“Why does it matter if our baby is ugly? Why is our baby being ugly even a thought in your mind?”
“This world sucks. Looking good is key to having an enjoyable experience on earth. You should start worrying about our child’s future, too, you know!”
“I would fight the entire world if it mistreated our baby.” Satoru presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “And I know you would, too. So who cares if our baby is ugly?”
“That’s not the point, Satoru!” You frown, knowing that you’re being ridiculous right now, but who else could handle you in this state if not him? There’s a reason why he’s the one you call your husband, and he’s the one who put the aforementioned potentially-ugly baby inside of you.
“Fine. If our baby is ugly, let’s leave it on Kento’s doorsteps and let it be his problem for the next eighteen years. Then, we can get started on the next and hope the second time’s the charm. Sounds like a solid plan?” He doesn’t mean it, but he knows it’s best to just try and nip these hypotheticals in the bud.
You’re silent for a moment. Then, “You’re awful! I would love our baby, even if it had your eyes and crazy ass hair.”
“I would love our baby, too. Ugly or not. You know why?”
“You’re going to say something corny.”
“I was going to say that I would love our baby because it came from you. Nothing ugly is coming out of your body, babe. And anyway, I love you so much, how could I hate anything that’s literally half you?”
Even if you’re in the mood to be annoying and insecure, and your brain is telling you to argue some more with your husband, you can’t help but relax after hearing this.
(Nine months later, all your worries seem to be all for naught; your son is the cutest thing to be born.)
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#dad!gojo#domestic fluff#fluff#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk one shot#drabble#gojo fluff#gojo x reader
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a life eluded | l.mh, h.js
wc: 6.5k
genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader
cw: pov hopping; anxiety/panic attack mentions; food/eating mentions; Bee (I still feel like they need a warning); all soulmates are gn (they/them pronouns) for sake of future storytelling; past life memories in italics; please please let me know if I missed anything🫶
if you’re new here, start from the beginning: a life forgotten
Soulmates can be a painful thing. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop yourself from running away.
Riley had left you with a hug, two phone numbers hastily written on a paper towel, and a promise to meet up soon. You and Lia counted off ten minutes before leaving as well, hopefully giving you enough time for Riley and any possible companions to be long gone.
You thought the idea of reaching out to them would scare you, but the more you looked at the numbers, the more you wanted to talk to them. You assumed Bee was the one that had yelled at your soulmates, drawing their attention off you long enough to make a break for it.
They’ve been looking for you for a long time.
Riley’s words found themselves on repeat in your head, not letting up even slightly. How could they have been looking for you if they’d never met you? They couldn’t possibly have known you. But they still noticed your absence. Enough that it weighed on them, caused them to seek you out even without knowing who you were.
They’ve been searching for their ‘missing piece’ about as long as I’ve known them.
Their missing piece. Not a burden, not a hitch in all of their plans, not some unforeseen unfortunate circumstance. You were included in their future long before you even knew of your past, they’d been attempting to seek you out for far longer than you’ve been avoiding ever finding them. In their minds you were the final piece of an extensive puzzle. Their final piece.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were typing both numbers into your phone and creating a group chat.
Y/n: you didn’t tell me which number belonged to who so i just made a gc, I hope that’s alright.
Unknown Number: Who are you and how’d you get these numbers?
Unknown Number: shut up Bee, I already warned you about this. sorry Y/n, I was rushing a bit, this is Riley and the other number is Bee’s :)
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): WAIT!!! YOU’RE MINSUNGS THIRD?! THE ONE THAT RAN AWAY EARLIER?!
Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): Bee istg
Y/n: uhhhh yeah, I suppose that’s me
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): I would’ve run away too, those idiots are so loud
Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): you are actually not allowed to talk, I think the only person in existence that can rival Bin’s loud ass is you. the both of you together are my eternal migraine
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): SHUT UP WE AREN’T THAT BAD
You couldn’t help the laugh that wells up in you at their banter, after that you fall into an easy rhythm talking with them. They understand you in a way you’re not sure any of your friends ever have.
It didn’t take even two days messaging back and forth for the three of you to make plans to meet for coffee, Bee going on about how unfair it is that you met Riley already. You thought you’d be nervous, you spent the whole morning getting ready waiting for the nerves to hit. These were the soulmates of not just two international idols, but close friends to your soulmates who were in the same group. Everything about the situation should be sending you into a spiral of anxious thoughts, but instead you felt more at ease than you do going to dinner with Lia.
“You look hot, where are you off to?” Your neighbor asked as you were locking the door.
“Coffee with some friends.” It felt too natural, the way friends rolled off your tongue. You hadn’t even met Bee yet.
“Be safe babes.” Your neighbor smiled, entering her own apartment. You weren’t close with your neighbor, but you always looked out for one another. Living alone wasn’t always safe, so having someone who would notice your absence was always a comfort thing for you.
The coffee shop decided on was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, you spent the whole time thinking over everything. When you had found out about your soulmates, one of your biggest concerns was the fact that there were others like you, soulmates of idols who knew who they were supposed to be with and couldn’t get to them. Or worse, that there were friends of yours, people who were the soulmates of the people you knew you had some cosmic bond with, people important to you that you’d never get the chance to remember.
Due to Stray Kids popularity, you got to have your memories with your soulmates members, the memories of how close you were to each of them as well in every lifetime, but knowing they had soulmates, that you likely were very close to their soulmates, that you couldn’t remember them, devastated you.
And now you were meeting two of them for coffee. The memories with Riley had already started to slowly trickle in after the short time you spent with them in the bathroom, you knew more would start engraving within your deepest memories after more time spent together. The two of you were close in every lifetime, it gave you hope that everything would work out in this one as well.
“Y/n!! Run!!’” Riley laughed, hand holding tightly on yours as the two of you sprinted away from the lady chasing the two of you with a broom.
“Get out of here, street rats!” The lady called after you.
After several twists and turns to make certain you were securely away from any possible danger, you both sat against a wall to catch your breath. You started giggling, causing Riley to look at you as if you’d grown two heads.
“What are you-?” Riley trailed off as you produced two small pieces of bread you’d managed to snake while Riley distracted the mean lady. Riley’s eyes lit up before laughter filled the space coming from the both of you.
You each enjoyed your pieces of bread, savoring the taste and the feeling of something on your stomachs, just sitting in comfortable silence with one another.
You’d shared your whole lives running the streets, keeping each other alive and moving, and you always thought it’d just be the two of you, until Riley found Chan and your lives got thrown upside down.
You stared at the sign of the tiny rustic looking cafe. It was the type of place you’d go to every day if you knew it existed. Now that you did, you couldn’t imagine not regularly spending time there. You knew deep down, if all went well today, you’d be spending a lot of time there with Bee and Riley.
A bell jingled above the door as you pushed it open.The whole place radiated comfort and you felt at ease instantly.
“Welcome in, I’ll be right with you!” A cheery voice called from what you assumed to be the kitchen.
“Y/n! We’re over here.” You found a table in a small nook surrounded by books where Riley and Bee were sitting, drinks already ordered. “We didn’t know what you might like and Sage already knows our usuals, but we were waiting for you to get food.”
Before you could take one of the open seats between the two, a short person with a bright smile, freckles, and long hair brushed to a shine seemed to dance toward you, hands wiping at their apron, they reached one out for you to shake.
“I’m Sage, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their grip was firm despite the dainty tinkle of their voice.
“Y/n.” You smiled in return.
“What can I get ya, Y/n?”
You order your drink, you, Riley, and Bee also putting in your orders for food, and just as fast as Sage had appeared, they’d disappeared back into the kitchen. Taking your seat at the little table, you took a deep breath before looking up, only to find Bee and Riley already staring at you.
“So like, when are you gonna finally meet your boys? OW! Fuck Riles, what was that for?!”
Riley pinned Bee with a pointed glare.
“Are you avoiding your soulmates?” Sage asks, gently placing your cup in front of you and taking the last seat at the table.
You turn beat red at the accusation. “Not exactly.” You mumble.
“Totally is. They found each other young so they’ve had five years together already and now this one seems to think they’re going to ruin everything, even though Min and Ji already know about them and have been looking for them.” Bee stated, sipping out of their own cup. “OW! Fuck, why are you guys always attacking me!?” This time, Bee glared at Sage instead of Riley.
“Because you make yourself an easy target. Listen, Y/n, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while owning this shop and spending way too much time people watching, it’s that no matter how hard you try to fight it, you’re meant to be with who you’re meant to be with. That's just the reality. If you were going to ruin their lives just by them finding you, you wouldn’t be their soulmate. Simple as that. Min and Ji have been in here a few times with Chris and Bin, they’re good ones, I guarantee you could never regret letting them in.”
“Your parents made a good choice with your name.”
Sage grinned, gently lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s a fun name to live up to.”
With that, Sage disappeared into the kitchen once again.
“They’re right though. I don’t think you could ever regret letting them in.” Riley smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand.
“Sage doesn’t know the boys are idols, do they?”
The way they called all of them by names Riley or Bee would refer to them as instead of any full name or stage name struck you as odd. Either they didn’t know or they were the bands inner circle, that thought making a strange sense of insecurity rise up your throat.
“Nah, Sage doesn’t really do technology and only really listens to the radio their grandfather had is his restaurant. They know next to nothing about the idol world, which is why the boys like coming here so much, it’s peaceful and off the beaten path.”
You nodded, sipping your drink. You could understand that, especially with the boys being idols with soulmates, a quiet coffee shop with next to no attention on it is the perfect place to be able to have uninterrupted time together.
Shifting in your seat to look around the small shop more, you found yourself wondering what your soulmates thought of the cozy shop and its somewhat eccentric owner. What were their regular orders here? Did they like having a regular order or did they change it up? You found yourself wanting to know how they decorate their rooms, if they like to read, what they like to watch. You wanted to get to know your soulmates personally in this lifetime, not just what you know of them from every life passed.
A few weeks ago, a few days even perhaps, that would’ve terrified you. You would have found yourself thinking of Jisung and Minho, and these thoughts plenty, but you always shut it down knowing it was fruitless, you wouldn’t get the answers anyways. But now that was different, now they knew you, now they wanted to get to know you just like you wanted to get to know them. Now everything was different, and the two men you love of your memories have a chance to become the men of your present if you so chose.
While losing yourself in the thoughts, zoning out the conversation happening between the shop owner and your fellow Stray Kids soulmates, your eyes landed on a gorgeous trellis made of wood and covered entirely of vines and flora, reminding you painfully of the arch and altar at your wedding to the two men in one of the very first lives you had a memory of.
“Do not fret, Y/n. No one is going to show up to ruin your marriage tonight, and even if one were to try I am almost positive Changbin and Bee would stop them before you even knew about it.” Sage smiled at you over your shoulder in the mirror, helping you lace up the back of your outfit.
“My father disowned me because of this wedding, it isn’t entirely implausible for him to not try and put a stop to it.” You sighed, worrying your fingers.
Sage pulled the straps a notch tighter than they needed to go, causing you to yelp and stare at your friend incredulously. “None of that.” Was all that was muttered before you were released and spun around, Sage’s hands finding their way to your shoulders. “Now, you are going to get out there, you are going to marry both of your incredible soulmates, and you are going to let your very oafishly protective elders stop anyone who threatens a bond as beautiful as the one you share with Minho and Jisung. Do you understand me?”
All you could do was nod, tears already welling in your eyes, as you pulled Sage into a tight hug. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Oh goodness, have the waterworks started already?” Bee teased, leaning casually on the doorframe. “You look great, Y/n. And if you’re ready, so is literally everyone else.”
Squeezing Sage one last time, you smoothed out the non-existent ruffles in your clothes before exiting the building, finding Chan holding a bouquet and waiting patiently leaning against the outside of the tiny cottage. When he looked at you, the emotions welling in his eyes were all you’d ever wanted to see from your father, and while a part of you wished he would have accepted your soulmates, you're more than grateful for Chan stepping up to such an important role.
“Are you ready?”
“More ready than I have ever been for anything.”
And with that, you were led out into the field, to the altar put together with wildflowers and plants, to your soulmates eagerly awaiting you to join them, to the life you’d never regret despite what your father anticipated.
Because standing there under the floral arch, Jisung’s hand in one of yours and Minho’s in the other, you knew you could never regret them in anything for even a moment.
Minho watched as his lover paced incessantly back and forth in the cutie dorms living room.
Bee and Riley had informed them that they were in touch with Y/n, their third soulmate, and that they were going out with you for lunch today. Riley refused to tell either boy where they were going, knowing Jisung would show up without hesitation and that Minho would just to avoid leaving Jisung alone in any way.
“What if they decide they don’t want us?” Jisung finally spoke the words that had been weighing on both boys since you disappeared a few nights prior, and even more so since finding out you’d been in touch with Changbin’s and Chan’s soulmates.
If you were in touch with the other soulmates, you could have found Minho and Jisung easily at any point. If you were in touch, one of them found you that night, which means you were likely mere feet from Jisung, as he had been with Riley. There were questions flying through Minho’s head at the same rate as he could see them in Jisungs eyes, but he had to remain calm for his lover, if they were to both spiral, no one would be able to calm Jisung.
“They’re not going to decide that, Sungie. They just found out they have two soulmates, you can’t tell me it didn’t take us a while to process that one too. They’ll find their way to us when they’re ready.” Minho pulled the smaller boy into his arms, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head.
“What if they’re never ready, Min?” The youngers voice was soft and shaky, Minho felt his heart break at the sound.
“We can’t think like that, Ji. Y/n is having lunch with two of our family at this very moment, if they were never going to be ready they wouldn’t have agreed to that.” Minho tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine at saying your name aloud for the first time in this lifetime, he tried to ignore the peace brought to him just by your name alone. His hold on Jisung tightening, his head burying in the youngers neck. “We’re going to be okay.” He promised, ignoring the persistent what ifs echoing in the back of his head.
What if Jisung was right? What if you were never ready? What if you never chose them because of who they are in this life? As much as Minho wanted to negate those thoughts, memories of lives that turned out exactly like that made him question if this would be one of them.
His hand tightened around their wrist, trying to pull them back to him. “Why do you keep running away?!”
“Because I have to!” You cried, finally turning to Minho, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I have to.” Your voice breaking on every word.
“You don’t have to. You can stay with me, we can figure it out.”
“Figure what out? Minho, soulmates are not the end all be all. As much as I would love to just run to you, run away from everything but you, I have responsibilities. I can’t just do what I want, not in this lifetime. We’ve found each other, awesome, great, we’re still in two completely different worlds. You’d be better off trying to find the one missing from our memories, you’d have a chance to have a life with them, to be happy with them. Do that Minho. Find our third soulmate, forget about me, and be happy. Because I can never be, that’s just not how this life played out for me.”
“You’re telling me that despite everything, you’re not choosing me?”
“God why do you have such selective hearing?! I don’t get a choice Minho. I never did! I was born into the fucking mafia, people don’t get to just walk away from that simply because they found their soulmate.
“Soulmates are a weakness just waiting to be exploited, you’ll live your whole life constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly in danger, because of me. Is that really what you want for yourself? For whoever we’re missing? Is that the life you’d choose for someone else? Because I wouldn’t choose this life for anyone and I am begging you to leave Minho. Get out while no one knows, get out while there’s no chance for them to know.”
“But I’ll know.” He hated how broken his voice sounded even to his own ears. “And you’ll know.”
Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he would listen to you, that he’d walk away and never look back. But all you found was a horrifying sense of finality.
Minho wanted to take it away, let you be free of this world you were forced into. He wanted to take your hand in his and never let go, no matter the danger that came with it.
He watched as your face morphed from the helpless near tears girl into a cold and emotionless woman, and it terrified him that you had been forced to learn to shed all resemblance of emotion within a blink.
“I will not ever choose you over my family in this lifetime, Lee Minho. Your life isn’t of importance to me and if you’re so keen to get yourself murdered trying to talk me into leaving with you, then so be it. I won’t come to your rescue.” Saying the words felt like driving a knife right into your own heart and twisting, the look on his face as his grip loosened on your wrist only adding to the immense guilt.
Ripping your arm away from his grasp, you turned on your heel, head held high, tears threatening your lashes, and left him standing there.
Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was pace around like a lunatic, and every now and again stop to stare at his hands. The hands that held you, the hands that let you go.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the way your eyes lit up, the way your smile outshines every star and sunrise he’d ever witnessed. He could hear the perfect harmony of you and Minho singing together, the way you didn’t miss a single syllable in any of his rap parts.
Jisung thought finding you would bring him peace, completeness, the sense of warmth he already knew with Minho, and for those few minutes he had you, you did.
Now, Jisung figured just knowing you were nearby, knowing you were close enough that maybe he would run into you again would ease the pain in his chest at the memories flashing through his mind, but when Riley informed him that they were on their way to get lunch with Bee, and you, and refusing to tell him where they were going, he felt his heart shatter all over again. His breathing growing uneven at the idea of you being close enough to enjoy lunch with two of his closest friends, and yet nowhere near him.
So Jisung paced. He walked back and forth and back again until he was dizzy, trying to rid his body of a pent up energy he had no idea what to do with. If he stopped, he assumed he’d collapse into a full blown panic attack, if that were to happen Minho would have to calm him down, and if Minho has to focus on keeping Jisung level headed, he won’t be able to grieve your absence too.
Jisung knew he was spiraling, knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself out of it this time, but he had to pretend he was okay, he had to let Minho spiral if he needed to, which means he can’t.
He tried to distract himself. He thought of Minho, of the way he curls into him in his sleep. How Minho nudges his hand, silently begging him to keep scratching his scalp when Jisung gets distracted and stops for any longer than five seconds. The memories of how the late afternoon light filters across Minho’s features, making him look like one of those beautiful paintings Hyunjin talks their ears off about.
But within these thoughts of his incredible soulmate, flitters in you. The way you had a habit of playing with Jisungs hands, he wondered if you’d still do that in this lifetime. He fell into thinking of the way you would stick your tongue out and furrow your brows when you focused too hard on anything, from washing dishes to sewing up a stab wound. He wondered why he had memories of you sewing up stab wounds, and which lives those were from, what you were like in those lifetimes outside the flits of memories he was gifted from the short amount of time he got to be by your side in this one.
No matter how hard he tried, everything kept coming back to you. Trying to distract himself by thinking of his other soulmate would lead to memories of him coming home to find both of you curled up together, fragments of time stilled in his mind of the two of you, smiling at each other, at him. He knew he would lose his mind if he were to be forced to remember you in every single way and never get to experience any of it outside of those few minutes he had on the street.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
Your voice was like a melody to his ears, despite the harsh words echoing from it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be here.” He countered.
Despite the racing of his heart, the familiarity of you, he had a job. One that required getting through you at any cost.
“Whatever it is you were sent here for, think very hard, is it worth the cost of your life?”
Jisung didn’t really put a cost on his life. He was raised and trained for one thing only, to carry out orders by any means necessary. And, as if you could sense that in him, you shifted your relaxed stance just slightly, preparing for an attack, but softened your features.
“There is more to life than what you know, little one.”
At the nickname, he lunged, but it was as if you knew exactly what to expect, perrying and gently placing your hand on his arm, sending the both of you headlong into forgotten memories and lives.
Coming to, Jisungs guard flew up. He didn’t move, didn’t attempt to attack you, but he shut down every possible emotion you could try to gather from him.
“I can show you a better world. One where you’d be in control of your own life, where you’d have an answer to what is and isn’t worth the cost of it.”
Your words were gentle, everything about you seemed to be gentle. You softened your stance, returning to the relaxed position, no longer planning to attack him or counter any attacks from him.
“If you give me a chance, I could give you the world.”
“I think I want to meet them.”
Riley shot up from their position sprawled across your couch, Bee’s mouth dropping open in shock.
“Are you serious?” Riley asked, searching your face for any sense of unease or dishonesty.
You’d been spending endless hours with the two, they’d quickly become your closest friends, aside from Lia. You’d also come to spend a lot of time at Sage’s cafe, quickly learning they are very much a piece of your many lives as well. You were still unsure of how exactly Sage fit into the grand puzzle of lifetimes spent with the same friend group, but you knew they did. Your suspicions only confirmed with Riley and Bee’s agreeance of having Sage within their past lives memories as well.
“Y/n/n, I need you to be so for fucking real right now, do you actually want to meet them?”
You’d seen Bee get serious about stuff before, they weren’t all jokes all the time, but the way they were staring at you at that moment, you knew you had to give the complete honest truth. Bee was protective, and while that insane protective streak has since expanded to you as well, you knew without a shadow of a doubt they’d evescrate you before you had a chance to even think about hurting Minho or Jisung.
“I’m terrified of it, that hasn’t changed. But maybe you’re right, maybe it will work out.” You smile at your friends. “I think I’m ready to risk finding out.”
It didn’t take even twenty whole minutes to get a meeting set up, Riley and Bee dragging you to your room to get you dressed and ready.
“Is it really a good idea to do this now? I mean, it’s really fast, don’t they want time to like, I don’t know, prepare or something?” You’d been rambling the whole time Bee sat on your lap to hold you in place while fixing your hair.
“No. Because ‘giving them time’ only gives you time to back out and the last thing we need right now is Ji going into another spiral because he thinks you don’t want them.” You could practically hear the roll of Bee’s eyes as they finally got off you, surveying their handiwork.
Huffing, you accept your fate as Riley forces an outfit into your arms and shoves you into your bathroom, pulling the door shut.
After getting changed and taking in your appearance, you had to admit, Bee and Riley were good. You’d looked hot, almost to the point of it feeling like it was too much. Taking a deep breath and hyping yourself up in the mirror, you open the door to find Bee and Riley lounging in the hallway, both looking up upon hearing the door open, Riley grinning and Bee letting out a piercing whistle as they take you in, high fiving.
“You’re gonna knock 'em dead, babe.” Bee winked.
You blushed, but couldn’t help the smile stretching across your lips.
“Alright then, let’s do this.”
Not every life went smoothly, not every meeting was practically gold and rainbows. But this one was. Childhood friends and also soulmates is nearly unheard of, most people couldn’t fathom growing up with the memories of every life before the current. But you had met Minho and Jisung at the ripe age of five, Jisung was the baker's son, your mom was looking for work, and you and Jisung were forced to spend hours upon hours every day together.
At first neither of you really understood the full depth of your shared connection, but when you both met Minho, and shared all the same memories with him as well, your young minds didn’t have it in them to care.
Growing up, the three of you would learn the full extent of what happened, but you never had the disconnect from the memories, having your past lives almost completely integrated with your current.
“I wish we could find each other young in every lifetime. It made everything so much easier.” Jisung muttered into your hair. You hummed in contented agreement, fingers massaging Minho’s scalp.
“Unfortunately, that’s not gonna be the case Sungie. Some lives will be easier, some will be harder, there may even be some we never meet at all. But at least in this one, we’ll get to love each other for far longer than we went without.” Despite his words, Minho’s voice was a purr and you knew without a doubt that all three of you, whilst scared of what future lives may entail, were perfectly at peace in that one.
Riley and Bee had never spent so much time away from the boys.
From the very moment Changbin found Bee, they were a permanent fixture within the group. Bee helped 3Racha write and produce, they were in the studio almost as much as the group, and if they weren’t there, they weren’t far.
Riley, from the moment of finally accepting Chan at least, was never far either. They would always be around, making sure all of the boys were eating, weren’t overworking themselves, taking in enough fluids.
To put it lightly, the gap of their absences was almost painfully noticeable in the weeks they seemed to all but vanish. Ever since their lunch with Y/n, it’s been as if the two were ghosts in the skz household.
Jisung knew they were still around, the lack of moping from either of his fellow producers was proof enough, but he hadn’t seen a glimpse of them for days, maybe even weeks.
He felt as if his world was fracturing. Minho was working tirelessly on new choreography, Bee wasn’t around to help him with songs, Riley wasn’t around to make sure he was drinking water, all of his members were enjoying their break before the next comeback, and he was exhausted. Jisung didn’t know how to get out of his head, and he wasn’t sure who to ask for help from.
He knew if he kept the pace he was at, he’d inevitably spiral, and that wouldn’t be any good for anyone. Jisung had decided to hide away in his room and sleep, it was the best answer he could come up with, but just as sleep was threatening to finally overtake him, his door burst open, a downright giddy Changbin standing in the threshold.
“I’m about to take a nap, tell me about it later.” Jisung groaned, turning his back to his friend before his friend could say anything.
Changbin, not having any of it, stomped over and ripped the blankets away from the smaller boy, lifting him out of bed, carrying Jisung to the bathroom, despite his protests, and threw him in the shower.
Before Jisung could complain, yell, or even get a thought in, Changbin turned the water on, drenching him in seconds.
“Y/n wants to meet, get cleaned up and ready to go in ten.” The older boy said before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and leaving an absolutely dumbfounded Jisung to slowly register the words, excitement growing with his understanding.
````
Weeks. Minho had been trying to get the choreography for the next comebacks title track down for weeks. Everything he came up with didn’t feel right, and when it did he didn’t think it looked right.
Hyunjin and Yongbok had offered to help, they’d even stayed with him, learning new dances, so Minho could see how it looked with multiple people, for a fresh perspective. But nothing was right. No matter how much Yongbok would swear he thought it flowed well, no matter how easy Hyunjin picked it up, nothing was right.
Minho knew, deep down, it wasn’t the dances that were off, it wasn’t his choreography at all. He knew it was nothing to do with anything related to music that was wrong, but the only thing he could translate the misconstrued emotions to was dance.
He created new dances every day to give his body and mind something to do, something to take away the wandering thoughts and memories. He’d rather tire himself to exhaustion than remember how it felt to have you by his side.
Minho had come to the conclusion that you were not going to choose them, and he couldn’t blame you for it at all. His hopes were up after he’d seen his only hyung work things out with his soulmate, but not everyone could find it in themselves to be with an idol. Being an idol was hard enough, dating one was a whole other demon of its own.
Despite knowing he has Jisung, despite being overwhelmingly worried about his lover, Minho simply needed to mourn the lover they never had a chance with. He needed his time to accept the fates cruelty upon their lives this time around, and then he’d help Jisung accept it as well.
So he kept dancing. For weeks.
Minho had always found solitude in an empty dance studio. The way the mirrors would be completely empty save for his figure, the silence filling a typically boisterous room, there was just something peaceful about a place meant to be filled being empty.
He was stretching, preparing for hours of working out kinks in his newest routine completely unbothered. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. They were on break, all of the boys were off doing who knows what, and they were supposed to be relaxing leading up to their busy season. Yet Minho was in the empty dance studio, all by himself.
He was lost in thoughts, already hacking away at the parts he wanted to rework, mentally trying to decipher how to fix them, when the door to the studio was nudged open. His eyes shifted to the door in the mirror, finding his only hyung standing in the doorway, a small smile gracing his features.
“You might want to put your plans for the day on hold.” Chan said without even greeting him.
“Why’s that?” Minho asked, being unable to stop the quirk of his brow.
“Because we have lunch plans. Are you sweaty?”
Minho shook his head, “Just got here, I was stretching.”
“Great, put on street shoes and let’s get out of here, we’ve gotta meet Bin and Ji at the dorms.” Chan smiled, moving to grab Minho’s bag for him.
“What’s the rush?” Jisung hadn’t mentioned any lunch plans with the other producers, but to be fair he and Jisung had been somewhat distant from one another lately.
“It’s a soulmate lunch. Me and Riles, Bin and Beebee, you and your soulmates.”
Minho nodded his agreement, very used to soulmate lunches, working on lacing his street shoes when he froze in realization.
Him and his soulmates.
````
To say you were nervous would be a gross understatement. You were downright jittery.
Bee and Riley were positioned on either side of you, both steadfast pillars of comfort bringing an almost overwhelming sense of security. You would be okay, because how could you not be with them by your side?
You’d agreed to meet at Sage's cafe for lunch, it was mutual ground and low foot traffic. Perfect for essentially a first meeting with your two idol soulmates and, from your understanding, Bee and Riley’s idol soulmates as well.
You were ready to bolt. Ready to full on leg it home and lock your door, never to come out again. Despite the peace of knowing three of your closest friends would be there, meeting them was still an absolutely terrifying concept.
The what ifs a plague playing on repeat. What if they don’t like you? What if you ruin everything for them? What if their fans find out? What if, what if, what if.
But with every bad what if, there was also a good one. What if you fit in seamlessly? What if they don’t care about their fans finding out? What if they are as scared and excited to finally meet you as you are to meet them? What if, what if, what if.
You knew you could bolt. You knew that Bee and Riley talked big, but if push came to shove and you needed an out, they’d have your back and get you out. You knew you could turn on your heel and walk the opposite way and they’d text their soulmates an update, and that yours would more than likely be devastated.
It was the fact that you could that kept you from doing so. The idea of Jisung and Minho waiting for you, the mental image of them deflating after hearing you’d change your mind, the thought of them being upset due to your actions, pushed you forward, kept you walking, and you knew no matter what you walked in on, you wouldn’t be able to back out now. You wouldn’t be the one to break the loves of your every lifetime.
Seeing the familiar shop, your heart was in your throat. There would be no turning back, no changing your mind. In choosing to meet them, you chose to give them the ball, everything would be up to them, and the closer you got to the cozy shop, the more you realized you were truly okay with that.
You were never actually nervous about meeting your soulmates, you were giddy about it.
As you pushed the door open, letting the familiar sound of its little bell notify Sage of your arrival, your eyes found your soulmates in record time, both sat at the table under the trellis covered in flora and vines. Your breath caught at the smiles gracing both of their faces, and you knew.
Even though soulmates can be a painful thing, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to run away from yours again.
a/n: ahhhhh it’s almost overrrr😭🥺🥺 this was gonna be a lot angstier and then it just, wasn’t. and idk what that’s all about but I like how it turned out lol. I dragged my feet on writing this part for actual weeks and then wrote like, 5k of it in two days, so I hope it was good haha! thank you so so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts!!🫶🫶🫶
taglist: @starlostastronaut @mariteez @tired-of-life-86 @skizmee @elisiexoxo @cutiespaghetti @httpswilloww @sundownimup-1 @lolareadsimagines @rockstrhanji @quokkampi @kayleefriedchicken @vivirantshere @ciellebys
#stray kids x reader#stray kids#stray kids fics#stray kids x y/n#skz fanfic#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han jisung fanfic#han jisung x y/n#han x reader#han x y/n#lee know#lee minho#lee know x reader#lee know fanfic#lee know x y/n#lee minho x reader#lee minho x y/n#minsung#minsung x reader#poly!minsung x reader#minsung x y/n#soulmate au#reincarnation au#skz soulmate au#skz x y/n#skz fic#skz x reader
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✨Tear You Apart: Engulf Me In Flames✨
Series Masterlist
A/N: Here’s a little drabble of my favorite duo because I can’t stop writing about them and their little angsty love story 🥹 This drabble was heavily influenced by the song “Together” by The XX and I love this little piece so much! I hope you enjoy 🩵
Word Count: 894
Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader
Chapter Summary: It was all a game until it wasn’t anymore. Bodies burning for each other, fire pulling one another to dance in the flames together.
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)
Tags: Sexual tension, dancing/circling each other, outbreak au, dark! Joel vibes, no explicit smut, symbolism of Joel being the big bad wolf, so much pining, switching POVs
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
You circle each other, hands brushing against one another as your eyes lock in heated flames. His calloused fingertips graze against yours with every turn his body makes in the covered barn that’s lit dimly with hanging lanterns. His eyes look like fire. Hot, intense, glazed over with dark desire that drives your instincts to continue on.
You dance slowly, intimately with heated stares burning into the other like a flaming sphere. His brown eyes slide down your body and end staring right into the pits of your eyes. Hungry. He’s starving for you, for just a taste. A taste he wants so badly but can’t seem to let himself have.
He’s been watching you for weeks, always staring when you walk into a room, ever since that first night he had you tied to a chair and decided to cut you free. He knows he shouldn’t tempt the flames, yet here he is enticing you to slip into the furnace with him once again. And so you turn in slow motion, arms grazing tanned skin, fingertips skimming the other’s again and again and again with no end in sight. It’s like clockwork, a ticking time bomb that’s about to erupt, simmer into nothing but pleasure, desire, fate. So you continue circling along until one of you breaks. A tainted dance that’ll surely end in nothing but chaos filled with beauty that slips against your bones, turning you to nothing but dust as soon as he takes full control of you.
Your breath is heavy, eyes wide as he narrows his own, slipping down your body as it tells you exactly what you need to know. He wants you, now. His brows furrow, jaw clenches as he flexes his fingertips into a tight fist at the side of his large body. He wants it, wants you, needs you. But he won’t break because that’d make him weak. But he is weak. Weak for you.
He just needs a taste, a lick of your skin, so he brushes the back of his hand over yours once more which ignites sparks low in your belly. Your eyes darken, desire tearing at the seams as you swallow and continue circling, carefully brushing your palm against the side of his button-up flannel that clings to strong arms. His breath catches, but he continues to keep his composure, repeating the cycle all over as you tease each other with just your eyes, your hands, your fingertips.
You watch the way the lines on his forehead move each time he narrows his honey glazed eyes, watch the way strands of greying hair fall into his eyes, watch the faded scar above his right eyes that burns into your vision, watch the way his chest rises and falls in waves every time he circles you. Slow, composed. A repeated cycle that continues until someone breaks and ends up pinning the other to the ground in a frenzy of desire.
It’s a vicious cycle, a dance of wolves that slowly spirals into turmoil. One that can only end with the other covered in nothing but the other person, tumbling against one another as the night takes you away into hot pulses of desire.
Seconds go by, minutes, maybe hours. You lose track as you get lost in the haze of it all. But then he reaches out slowly and grazes your jawline, calloused fingers brushing against your glistening skin as you suck in a deep breath and breathe air filled with whiskey, charcoal, and mahogany scents swirling all around you. His touch is distant, careful, cautious as he slips slowly down your skin. His eyes grow dark chocolate, eyes that want to devour you whole as he slides his other hand around your waist and carefully crushes you against his broad chest.
“What do you say, little lamb? Wanna dance? Get a taste of the flames and danger with the big bad wolf?”he smirks, voice deep and gravelly as he grazes calloused fingers against the side of your neck. All you can do is nod, entranced with the way he moves, his massive form towering over you as he comes in for the kill.
He cups your chin, thick fingers digging into your skin as he slowly, slowly leans down and brushes his lips against your red tinted mouth. He swallows you, igniting flames through your entire body as he licks into your mouth, tongue dancing circles along yours as his hands explore your body ravenously. He thinks you taste so good, thinks you’re exactly the thing he needs to break away from his curse of darkness. So he’ll keep you, devour you till you see nothing but him in the shadows of the night, claw your skin till your veins bleed streaks of him. He’ll take you, night after night, teeth against skin, bodies entwined so tight that you can never escape. You’re his now, his to keep, his to take. He’ll have you until your blood runs dry, until your bodies combine into shades of scarlet red. Claimed. He claimed you.
So you’ll dance, continue the motions as the night fades to black. And you’ll burn. Let him pull you under the flames as you continue dancing with the lonely wolf.
And just like that you belong to the flames. And with him you burn.
Tags: @amyispxnk @littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @survivingandenduring @msjarvis @vivian-pascal @jasminedragoon @lotusbxtch @pedrostories @untamedheart81 @bbyanarchist @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog
If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments or asks 🥰
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel x female reader#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller pedro pascal#outbreak!joel#post outbreak joel#jackson!joel#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#joel miller au#joel fanfic#little red riding hood au#joel the last of us
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hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗
hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3
You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.
He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.
You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.
Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.
He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.
When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.
And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.
You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.
He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.
So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.
Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb.
You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.
But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.
It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.
You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.
So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.
It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.
But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.
Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.
He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.
He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.
You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.
“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”
The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”
“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”
“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”
You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”
“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.
You meet his smile with a grimace.
“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
You don’t answer him, just shrug.
“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.
That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.
“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”
Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.
Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.
Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.
He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.
Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…
Eddie tries not to smile too wide.
“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.
“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.
“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”
“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.
Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.
“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”
“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”
You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious.
Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.
“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”
He laughs when it makes you laugh.
“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”
You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face.
Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself. “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”
“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”
“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”
You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.
You hope he keeps his promise.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie spaghetti drabble#st drabbles
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a helping hand (kyle spencer) x (fem!reader)
“ Hey get me another shot Frankenstein “ Madison shouted to Kyle, our butler, while holding up her shot glass
Kyle ran towards Madison and followed up with her request. All four witches in this academy were always treating Kyle like some dog, especially Zoe and Madison. Zoe and Kyle seemed to have something going on but looks like Zoe cut ties with him. You were always intrigued by Kyle, you wanted to help him. You wanted him to feel loved in a way.
You are the fifth and newest member of Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. You arrived a couple of weeks ago and were starting to warm up to everyone but you weren’t fond of the other witches. It was kinda just you and yourself, you do share some glances with Kyle but nothing more. Even though you wanted more than that, you wanted to mean something to Kyle.
“Hey bitches listen up, there’s a party tonight anyone wanna join me? “ Madison announced making you look up from your food.
Everyone agreed to tag along except you, you weren’t really into parties. All the wild people and loud music scare you. So you decided to stay back to do some revising on magic.
“ You have no life y/n, “ Madison said chuckling
“ Nope just don’t like parties “ you shrugged
“ Alright then you’ll have to take care Kyle and make sure he doesn’t kill himself “ Zoe instructed
You nodded and continued eating while the others chatted about the party.
Walking up onto the spiral stairs, you entered your room to take a hot shower before checking on Kyle. When you came out from bathing the house was quiet, indicating that the four witches had left to attend their party. You wore your clothes and walked into your room, you saw Kyle sitting on your bed and you jumped getting scared by the sudden presence.
“ Kyle you scared me “ you laughed
“ s-s-sor-ry “
You stepped closer to him and a gush of his scent washed over you. You can smell sweat all over him so you asked.
“ Kyle, did you shower yet? “
“ I d-don’t kn-now how to, “ he said slurring his words
You instantly felt bad, you forgot Kyle was from the dead and can’t do normal basic things. But an idea surfaced in your mind, you ran over to your nightstand and took out your spell book. You were going to attempt to fix him.
Flipping through the book in a hast to find the spell that you vividly remember reading about. There you found it, page 364 titled ‘ bringing back a zombie’s sanity ‘. You needed the following ingredients to make this spell successful. Mud, dirt, water, mint leaves, rose petals, and a piece of the subject’s hair.
Mixing all of the listed ingredients, put it over a fire to boil it. Then let the subject breathe in the substance for a minute. After that bind it all in with a kiss, this was pretty simple you thought as you reread it.
You collected all of the items and went back to your room eagerly, you wanted Kyle to have another chance to live normally again.
You and Kyle sat in the ring of candles surrounding you both. You started crushing the mint leaves and rose petals to dust then combining it in a pot with the mud, dirt, and water. You emit a small flame under the metal pot with your powers, making the substance boil.
“ Kyle, you need to inhale this substance for about a minute alright? “
He looked at you and then nodded, putting his head on top of the pot. After a minute or so you needed to move on to the next step, kissing him. You were quite nervous but you do want to kiss Kyle just not expecting your first kiss to be like this.
“ Okay Kyle now we need to kiss now “
He looked up and it seemed like his eye lit up hearing it. You leaned into him pecking at his delicate soft lips but the short peck became a full kiss. You pulled away and put out the flame asking how Kyle felt. He tested his voice and it seems to have worked. He wasn’t stuttering anymore, it made you smile to know that it work. Before you knew it, Kyle was engulfing his large hands around your body thanking you.
“ Thank you y/n, I couldn’t be more grateful “
“ Of course, I’m happy to help “
Kyle pulled his head back to face you, hands still on your waist. You stared into his dark brown eyes then slowly moved to his lips, gosh you just wanted to kiss him. The kiss you shared with him earlier only made you crave more, bravery took over your mind and you smashed your lips against his.
His soft plush lips started to move against yours, his tongue inviting itself into your mouth. You both break away to catch your breaths and you watched as a smirk took over his lips.
“ That wasn’t part of the spell but I liked it “
#kyle spencer#kyle spencer smut#kyle spencer fluff#kyle#spencer#ahs#ahs coven#coven#american horror story#kyle spencer x reader#kyle spencer one shot#kyle spencer drabble#kyle spencer imagine#evan peters#tate langdon#jimmy darling#kit walker#james patrick march#fluff#ahs fluff
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“ are you going to kiss me again, or do i have to do it myself? “ // bowen x vince
this night like any other night before this one for the past few months had been extraordinary at best. he could almost use the word magical, but he never really liked using other world aspects to describe real feelings because he had to believe this was real and it was happening to him. vince had given up most of his hope of success for his career so this was living in his wildest imagination. sometimes he would still wish for someone to pinch him or drop a bucket of cold water on his head so he could wake up and start facing reality again. this is reality, he would often remind himself. this is reality and it's time to live it all, to its fullest. which means not holding back your feelings anymore 'cause apparently luck is on his side and he is going to cherish it in order of it never letting him go.
he often pops up the question on his mind — while he is getting ready in the morning and then sits up for breakfast in the hotel or gets to the studio on time and waits for the other to arrive — he gets one look at him and thinks if luck is not a superstition but instead a person. could it be him who's been missing in his life this entire time? not just for making this band a real thing, for putting them on every radio, creating a chance for every possible award but for also making his heart alive. the blood in his veins pulsates insanely whenever he gets this feeling as if he is the most brilliant person in that room. he feels his heart race beating along the instrumental of each song, earning for it. this urge to live this dream with him, to make him see the starts that he sees whenever his vision goes blurry when he can finally touch him that night and kiss every surface of his skin that is just as hot as his own. no one has ever craved for someone as much as vince does bowen every night, every morning, and every moment they are together.
tonight after another glorious performance in a foreign city with the certainty that they were made for that state and for those crowds, at least they are almost in their hotel suites for a due rest. although that's pretty much the last damn thing on their minds. they couldn't keep their hands off each other ever since they got off stage, bowen put his finger in the hem of the jeans just slightly to push him towards him which sent vince in a spiral. they still had to take pictures for social media, talk to some famous locals who came to their show, and survive the twenty-minute ride from the venue to the hotel but they made it in one piece, and once they finally had no more eyes on them in the elevator they gave up all decorum and anguish — not that they ever have much. vince wanted to make a run for it, grab his hand, and push him towards his suite without thinking twice. however, he did. his hesitation in doing so didn't go unnoticed by bowen and thank god it didn't because he wasn't ready to spend the night alone. "you know much better than to beg for me to kiss you." vince had his eyes closed when he said that, yet he could still picture every detail from bowen's face and also the expression he would make when he opened his eyes again. this was part of their proximity, knowing so well each other's do's and don't's, it was almost engraved on his mind like a tattoo. bowen was unforgettable if only he knew — if only vince could show him.
he was drenched in so much affection with an air that again felt almost mystical. swearing he didn't touch any alcohol that night, not like on the first night he kissed him, but it always felt as though bowen's presence made him drunk and out of touch with reality. maybe that's why they made so much good music together, they wanted that excitement to be perceived by their listeners thinking perhaps they would be just as lucky as they were. with his confidence back and his core irregularly beating up his soul, he opened his eyes again to find that exact expression he had already projected on bowen's face — a smile, mischievous and devious just as he intended to be. the elevator opened at the same time as he grabbed vince's pulse out of there and instead of making that run for it, he walked them slowly out of it with a newfound trust in his senses. then he grabbed his waist back when he tried to bolt for the door of his suite and forced his attention on his lips without needing to close it with his yet. "whenever you want, yeah. you should do it. kiss me yourself, kiss me anywhere, everywhere, all the time. fuck it, just do it." and then he breathed him in, his glamorous scent and diamond eyes but without doing what vince wanted him most because that was his to take it whenever he wanted and right now seemed as if they wanted more than ever.
#mais um pra conta#nao é mais seu aniversario mas vc ainda ta de parabéns#eu queria muito ha muito tempo responder uma deles#mas eu sabia que precisava de um momento certo#why not now#vince.#vince x bowen
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Oh? Ooooooooh~☆? What's THIS my mind has brought me?
You remember my Time Stop Au? My mind, genius that she is, has oft be asking! But what if The Reverse Tho? And isn't THAT a delightful question indeed??? >:Dc
Because everyone with EYES could tell you? That Batman? Desperately in need of some orgasms and a nap. Just in general. Always.
Would it fix him? No. But it WOULD probably help! Especially in Tim's early years.
And! Who has greater resistance to Magical Temptation? Batman... or Robin? If YOU were a Time Effecting Magical Device and trying hide from the Fuzz? Would you try and tempt BATMAN to sneak you into his pocket? Or wee baby Newbie Robin?
*sparkles in Innocent Time Piece* ~✨️ Thaaaaats right, kid. Pick them up. Promise not to lead you too THAT many poor life choices!
So Tim finds a neat watch. Looks like one of his parents antiques. Shiny.
Discovers LATER? Omg. He can FREEZE TIME? Gets SO much work done. Because he is a Nerd. But! He also gets super used to using it. For homework, naps, extra training. You name it. And it helps! He's doing a lot better as Robin.
But Bruce isn't getting better. Is in fact, in one of his Tough Case, self-destructive spirals. He needs to sleep. Eat. Rest for just ONE minute! But he won't. And it's BAD. Tim doesn't know what to do. It's not like he can FORCE him. But he knows Stress can kill.
He's franticly researching. Ways to bring down stress. Ways to get people to sleep. Anything! And... huh. "Jerking off" huh? Well he KNOWS there no way Bruce is going to go for it. It might feel good and God forbid THAT happen! No, we gotta punish ourself for days and worry all the people around us!
But... wait...
Looking at his Watch? Tim thinks... But what if I do it?
So he brings his watch to the cave. Goes to a changing stall with his uniform. Waits. Aaaand, there! Alfred bullying Bruce into a shower. Water starting. Give it a minute. Alfred's satisfied he's actually in, is leaving. Elevator opens. It closes.
Click. Time stops.
Slips out of his clothes so they won't get wet. Leaves everything in the stall. Pads over to the shower. And there is Bruce. Wet and miserable. Leaning forward against the wall with his eyes closed. Letting the water just run down his back. Half-hard but clearly intent on ignoring it.
Not on Tim's watch! He did RESEARCH. Using Pornography!
So, carefully, he rubs and strokes Bruce's cock. Doesn't REALIZE yet, that because time is frozen? It can't react to the teasing until time starts again. So obviously he must not be doing it right. Maybe if he rubs and teases the head? No... he's supposed to cups and roll the balls, right? Wait. That lady used her mouth.
He's pretty sure Bruce can't FIT.
But he CAN lick! And he's in the shower, so he's clean. Tim's licked weirder stuff for less. Does he do the whole thing? No reaction. Maybe try sucking on just the head? How though? He tries several ways on now seem to work. Darn. Maybe rub that and lick there? No, but what if he...
He tries for over an hour. Eventually concedes defeat. He just cant figure it out! Maybe hes just bad at this. He'll do more research and try again. Bruce needs this, he's sure of it. So, sighing, he let's go and pads over to his dressing stall. Honestly his hands are cramping and his tounge feels like he licked sandpaper. But he TRIED! What did he do wrong?
Click.
The sensations slam into Bruce like a semi-truck. His hips bucking back but being unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure. Hot stroking hands, inexperienced but worshipping, teasing EVERYTHING. Then a MOUTH? He chokes on the cries that want to rip out of him. TIM is here. He... he will NOT.
But after twenty minutes, when it at most takes him ten, and no sign of him? He doesn't much get a choice. Tim find him, hand pressed desperately over his own mouth, cumming AGAIN into the growing puddle on the shower floor. His whole body twitching, shameful, unable to stop as some unseen force keeps trying to suck him dry.
Tim looks so startled.
Helps him without judgement. He always seems to be doing that. Even though he's just found his Mentor utterly ruined, he doesn't even blink. Just helps. Bruce... Bruce doesn't deserve him. Clings anyway, as another orgasm rips through him.
Stops pushing him away, after that. Is alot closer.
Tim is THRILLED. It DID help! But inevitably, Bruce starts to spiral again. Not because of him. But does it matter? Stressed to the point of breaking down. Every other method exhausted. Time to MAKE Time.
He has to search a little, this time. But finds Bruce in his room. Already trying to De-stress. Good! Tim'll help. Has been working out how to do that himself. Doesn't think it will FIT, yet, but he can definitely do that thing the lady did! Where she rubs herself against the tip. And? He has been practicing fitting things in his mouth! He can do it this time.
Tim leaves, certain he did a good job. And Bruce? Who just wanted a quick jerk before bed? Gets slammed with sucking wet heat and eager hands. Another marathon he can't escape. Butt stuff! Cause Tim found his lube on the bed and remembered that article he read on prostate health.
He has such precise, clever little fingers. Bruce doesn't so much see stars as whole ass nebula. Has a drained, thousand yard stare and early morning sheets washing session the next day. Calmer though.
And it continues. Bruce gets Too Stressed? Tim brings out the watch. Bruce quickly figures out the link, but can't figure out the culprit. Is pretty damn sure he took their virginity. But is it really "taking" if they use you like a dildo? Regardless. Tim has been a rock. No prying question, no judgements, just support.
It brings them closer.
He can admit... he craves a warm body to hold. Feels like a monster, making up the excuse that Tim will be on gaurd for their mystery assailant. Bruce know he won't be able to stop them. It's a magic user. But... Tim is warm beside him. And maybe Bruce can pretend that it's Tim, depraved as that is, instead of some stanger. Hold him close after.
And Tim KNOWS he should stop. Or come clean. But? It's HELPING. And they're so close now! And... and it feels so GOOD. Bruce's cock, grinding inside him. Lifting himself and rocking back down. Or sucking him and just relaxing into it, like maybe Bruce wanted him to warm his cock for hours. Or.. or fucking BRUCE, feeling the other end of the dildo rocking and moving inside him, every time he thrusts, wondering if he's hitting that good spot, gonna make Bruce cum.
Tim can't help it. He wants to be GOOD for him. Ride him and suck him and make him feel good. Let Bruce use him and fill him up. Keep him full. He's pretty sure he's turning into a pervert. And it's getting worse.
He's started to notice... well...
Dick looks REALLY stressed you know? Tim could probably help~
-🐼🐼🐼
😍😍😍!!!! tim stopping time to fyck vruce and bruce latching onto tim because he doesn't "judge" while being phantom fucked. tim starting to escalate and setting his eyes on dick 👀👀!!!
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An Affair Of The Art (KNJ x F!Reader)
pairing: husband!Namjoon x reader
genres/au/rating: fluff, slight angst, pg
summary: One rainy day looking at art sets off a spiral of events Namjoon can’t control, leaving his heart for the taking
warnings: references to infidelity (no actual infidelity), references to PPD, dad!Joon (yes this is a warning)
word count: 1.3k
a/n: so I went to go look at art when it was raining today and saw so many kids with their parents, and then listened to Namjoon’s podcast which was a mistake bc the yearning is just at all all time high. please enjoy this self-indulgent piece. disclaimer: i’m not a mom, and have never experienced PPD, but i’ve known moms who did. my heart goes out to anyone who struggles with it, I’m sending you a big hug.
It starts when Dan-Bi is seven months old – but Namjoon never meant for it to happen in the first place. He can see the exhaustion seep into your bones, the light leave your eyes, how every day you become less and less like a person and more and more a machine that changes, feeds, burps. Being there for you had always been his solution, but even that doesn’t seem enough.
So one day, when you’re finally able to catch up on sleep, and he’s unwilling to rouse you from some well-needed rest, he settles on it. Slipping on his boots and sliding his rain jacket, he looks around him nervously before sending a hushed message to the other person in his life that it was time for them to get away for a bit, maybe at a nearby gallery.
And so he sets out on the rainy city streets, the anticipation making him shiver almost as much as the cold. It’s a prolonged journey, one where he stops in for cup of coffee, the hot liquid warming his frigid inside. Next he stops by the park, looking at the many families that travel along the lush green walkways, and his mind guiltily flashes back to you. It wasn’t your fault. You needed time to be yourself again, as did he.
When he finally steps into the warm gallery space, the hostess greets him with a flutter of her eyelashes, her gaze hungrily traveling to the way his plain t-shirt has soaked through, clinging to the muscles of her chest. Namjoon doesn’t indulge her. There’s only one person whose company he craves right now.
The stares of the other patrons burn into the back of his head when he rides up the elevator to the second floor, and he wonders if they know his secret - if they silently judge him for being here in this state right now, a fraud amongst them. Instead of dwelling on it, he shakes the rain from his hair and walks right out, never turning to look back.
His boots click against the tile floors, the echo bouncing off the walls as he wanders, searching, and searching until — he finds it. The vivid reds and pinks reflect onto the floor, creating an eerie glow to the harshly caricatured scene Guston portrays - Namjoon can’t stop staring.
A squeal startles him, and he jolts, looking around to see if anyone else heard it, but they all remain still, hyper-focused on the pieces in front of them. Sighing, Namjoon mentally prepares himself for the worst when he decides to investigate the source.
Only to come upon his daughter’s smiling face in the stroller, Dan-Bi looking up at him with wide eyes as she kicks her legs and squeals again, her eyes then squishing into the familiar crescent moons that mirror his own. Namjoon wonders what could have a barely year old baby so joyous in a space that she barely understands, but he freezes when he sees Dan-Bi look over at the painting he’d had his eyes trained on mere moments ago, her gaze equally as transfixed as her father’s.
Her fingers end up in her mouth as she slobbers, and Namjoon chuckles at how she drools over them, stroking her fine hair with a soft touch before he goes back to looking at it too. He couldn’t tell anyone how much time passed with the two of them looking at the piece. Maybe it was five minutes, maybe it was twenty, but Namjoon remains rooted to the spot, Dan-Bi’s protests and cries keeping him in place every time he moves the stroller. He leans to look at every brush stroke, every vibrant hue that blends into another, each thread on the canvas before turning to look at Dan-Bi’s tiny figure, fist smooshed into her cheek as she slumbers. That was enough to hold him over for now, and it was time to get back home to you.
And so began Namjoon’s affair of the art.
Over time, he sees you brighten, the changing of the seasons enough to bring you out of your shell, the former enthusiasm you had returning. You feel well enough to hold Dan-Bi without feeling pained and sorrowed, yet it hits you just how much your daughter has grown up in the past few months, her tiny delicate features becoming sharper and more refined, blending into the perfect amalgamation of you and your husband. And then the guilt settles in for missing so much of her life.
You weren’t naive - you’d woken up more than enough times to find Namjoon gone, Dan-Bi nowhere to be found in the house. After panicking the first few times, the bittersweet feeling set in when you realized they were gone, and you were here. You knew Namjoon meant well, intending for you only to rest, but it hurt that they were living on, while you remained stuck in the same place.
One day, when the trees begin to shed their flowers and the rainy skies melt into sunshine, you decide to follow behind them, slipping out no more than five minutes after they’d gone. Your footsteps take you to the art museum that Namjoon had taken you to on your first date, and you watch the security staff coo as he waves to them, walking in with Dan-Bi strapped to his shoulders.
Before you can stop him, you’re following behind, your haggard appearance and the bags underneath your eyes a sharp foil to your husband’s fit, healthy frame and Danbi’s adorable chunky thighs. You linger behind them on the stairs, Namjoon paying no mind to who’s behind him as he leads Dan-Bi into a gallery, this one full of works by the Impressionists, the soft colors and works transporting putting a smile on your face when you finally realize.
Monet was my first, he’d told you all those years ago. The Lunch.
Tears spring to your eyes when you see him holding up Dan-Bi to look at the water lilies splotched across the canvas, his gentle voice reassuring her to “look only, uri ttal, no touching”.
The choked sob that escapes is what gives you away, Namjoon and Dan-Bi turning to find you behind them, wet streaks streaming down your face.
“Baby,” Namjoon’s voice rumbles, his concerned eyes looking at your tired figure. “What are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”
“I thought you were having an affair,” you half sob, half cackle, and Dan-Bi squeals at seeing you, making grabby hands.
“Eom-a-ma-ma-ma,” she blubbers, and you take her from Namjoon, not caring for the stares of passerby that look at the strange scene, an oddly calm child with the mother in the midst of a meltdown.
“Are you for real?” Namjoon whispers, his arms coming around to wrap you in a hug. “___-ah, I would never. You have to know that. I love you.”
He curls you and Dan-Bi into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before continuing on.
“I’ve been waiting months for the day you’d feel better, that you’d finally be able to join us. Dan-Bi is better company than I expected at the art museum - she doesn’t scream or cry, mostly just tries to destroy thousands of dollars of precious art by knocking into it or grabbing for it.”
“She’s just a baby,” you pout, cooing at her. “She’ll learn one day.”
“It’s nice to see you here with us,” Namjoon mumbles against you. “I missed you.”
“Thank you for waiting for me Namjoon,” you say to him. “Now, what do you say we go look at some more paintings? I know Appa is a fan of Monet, but I want our little raindrop to learn about the wonders of Degas.”
And you carry her away, Namjoon trailing behind you with a grin on his face. This affair for his heart may have ended, but a new one was just beginning.
a/n pt. 2: it’s fluffing szn idc about cuffing szn. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
#bts#bangtanbathhouse#btshoneyhive#bts fanfiction#bts au#bts fics#bts fanfic#bts reactions#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts fluff#namjoon#kim namjoon#rm#namjoon x reader#namjoon x you#namjoon fluff#rm x reader#rm x you#rm fluff#namjoon fic#namjoon imagine#rm fic#rm imagine#namjoon fics#namjoon imagines#rm fics#rm imagines
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tim riggins x reader hcs of any kind🫶🏻
Okay, first of all, holy shit, nonnie mouse, I fucking love you to pieces for this. Secondly, I really hope you like random assortments because I looooove this man. I loved the character. And it's been a while since I got to gush about the series itself. I also kinda loved Matt Saracen too but Tim is babe.
tag list babes || req rules + fandoms/characters || got a req? || masterlist
Tag List ; There isn't anybody on my Friday Nights series taglist BUT BUT... since I do really owe @adampage the next part of Hot for Teacher and we both love Tim, I'll just tag them to this too.
Warnings ; mentions of choking, thigh riding, breeding kink, biting, his childhood (alcohol and the like), and this is it. Minors, find your way outta here and go read a comic.
SAFE FOR THE TUMBLR
-- okay, first of all. He's so much smarter than anybody realizes. He just doesn't apply himself at all times because he hates the pressure and he didn't exactly get the best luck in life when it came to parents. This is why his older brother -who practically raised him, is driven crazy all through his high school days because big brother KNOWS he's the smarter Riggins and big brother just desperately wants Tim to get out and make something of himself. But Tim does not do well in academia and while he enjoys learning, he can't learn by the book via lectures to save his fucking life. Had classes been more hands on, baby would have fucking killed it.
-- He definitely has a type. He likes 'em bossy. Maybe it's the fact that the bossy ones always seem to care just a little more and they'll fight and hold on long after they should've let go. His type does him no favors most of the time though, because the subset of his type is that he likes a lot are the girls with savior complexes (Lyla, ahem.) and these kinds of loves typically do not pan out well in the long run.
--- Serial monogamist. He longs for the stability he didn't get to feel as a child but at the same time, he always gets scared as hell, does something to implode whatever relationship he's in and then he's on to the next one. But he loves the people he chooses, deeply. So its not like you become perfect strangers after a breakup with Tim, he will not allow that. I honestly think that he came real close to being truly happy in the love department two times (Tyra and Lyla) and both times, what'd he do?
--- Alternately, I do feel that after high school, he eventually comes to terms with everything, all of it, and he'll wind up settling down. He'll make somebody a damn fine husband because he's caring, he's the kind of guy who can make you laugh one minute and stay up with you til 2 am having deep conversations, he's very good at all things handy and holy shit, protective. Family means the world to him (he literally burned his own future to the ground ,tried to, at least, to protect his brother IIRC) so if he's with you, just know that you're it for him and the man would literally take a fucking bullet for you if he had to.
-- Cannot fucking cook to save his life. Has caused more than one fire in the kitchen at his old house. The fire department see a call come in from the old Riggins residence and roll their eyes while groaning.
-- Favorite subject was actually English / Creative writing. And he was surprisingly damn good at it too. He likes poetry, but he'd die before telling anybody this aloud.
-- I see him as an amazing girl dad, oh my god. Picture it, he's always willing to cuddle (because he loves that shit) and he decides early on that his little peanut is going to learn to be self reliant. He teaches her how to throw spirals, he tries to do her hair as best as he can but her braids are always crooked, they have a breakfast ritual that includes him carrying her into the kitchen and sitting her on the counter while he attempts to make pancakes (can't cook for shit but he's learned this one recipe for his lil girl) shaped like cactuses.
--- off topic but he is totally the guy to get an outline tattoo just so he can hand his kid markers and let them go to town coloring it in. And he'll leave it on for days, carefully saran wrapping the tattoo/marker each time he goes into the shower.
-- He likes the older country.. Like Merle, Patsy, Johnny.. You get it. Will get drunk off his face and serenade his SO in the bar to some Conway in a heartbeat and have absolutely zero shame for it.
-- Briefly wanted to be a doctor as a kid. But he's a lil squeamish about certain injuries and excess blood. He'll die before he admits it, but yeah. Can't stand bones through skin or excess blood, makes him hurl every time.
-- I feel like his father was kind of a Texan version of Frank Gallagher, so when he and Billy were younger, they had to fend for themselves a lot of the time. I also feel like he spent a lot of time as a kid believing he had no other option than to grow up and become another Walt and this made him bitter. Football probably saved his life, because if he hadn't gotten on the Panthers, I can easily see him as having gone down an entirely different path. I think his drinking and partying a lot stem from the fact that he's not thinking about all of this when he's got a few drinks in him. And he hates reliving the past or thinking about it, so he just kind of never dealt with a lot of the shit until Walt came back in and fucked up again before disappeaering. So the first time Tim actually deals with his past is when his own father shows up and immediately tries to destroy things with his 'family' -the team, by stealing camera equipment.
-- I feel like Tim hates fights but he won't run from them, either. I feel like the reason he hates them is that he knows he has anger and he doesn't want to let it get too far out of pocket.
-- only goes 'hunting' for the naps and the chance to be outside. The sport he really enjoys as far as the above goes is fishing. He could fish all day, easy. But he's not too big on actually hunting, so he'll go but he's probably just doing it to unwind and isn't actively trying to get a buck or anything. He pretends to be bigger into hunting than he actually is because it's how he was raised.
NOT SAFE FOR THE TUMBLR
-- he'd literally worship you if you took control in bed. He normally loves to be in control, yes, but.. there's this part of him that wants someone to turn him into a groaning mess beneath their body.
-- that said, he is a soft!dom. He's chill, he's got boundaries, he takes damn good care of you, but. He really enjoys putting you in your place too.
--- STAMINA. He's got it.
-- He's not overly kinky, but he enjoys holding your hands down an pinning you under him. Or tying them.. because yannow, he likes to watch you come undone knowing you can't touch or anything until he allows it.
-- breeding kink, oh my god. tell him you want to have his babies and this man turns into a feral slut.
-- decently equipped. He's girthy and veiny. Average length though but that doesn't matter because holy shit, he knows how to use what he has.
-- he never actually slept around, it was reputation. He slept with a handful of people, tops and he was in relationships with them. This makes me think boy is a romantic. And a huge sappy one at that.
--- BUT BUT... he will rail you, oh my god. His hand at your throat, deep and slow. He likes missionary or cowgirl the best because of this. He likes to watch you come undone.
-- this man will spend hours between your thighs edging you until you're trying to shove his mouth away.
-- Ride his thighs. Fuckin loves it.
-- Will leave handprints all over you, ugh, your honor, I'ma down bad.
-- Likes to pull hair, but does it gentle enough that it wouldn't hurt you.
-- Always has to be touching. And has zero shame in copping a tits or an ass feel right out in front of God and everybody, esp when he's got you molded against him and slow dancing.
-- if you praise him he will fucking melt.
-- anything to do with calling him baby, praising him or kissing him in certain areas / playing with his hair are all it takes to get him going. Or kiss him in the middle of an argument to shut him up.
-- Loves makeup sex.
#tim riggins#tim riggins fanfiction#tim riggins imagine#tim riggins fanfic#tim riggins x reader#tim riggins headcanons#tim riggins x reader headcanons#but mostly tim riggins tbh
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In the Shadow of Curses: A Love Unbroken
Disclaimer: angst, mlm.
Pair: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto.
Geto slumped heavily onto the worn, tattered sofa, his heart burdened by the agonizing wait for Gojo's return from yet another perilous mission. Gojo, the strongest sorcerer known to all, was always the first choice when it came to confronting curses that no one else dared to face. The house seemed emptier, colder, without the presence of the one man who had stolen not only Geto's heart but his very essence.
With a deep, melancholic sigh, Geto turned his attention to the flickering images on the television screen, where a stranger's voice resonated through the room like a haunting melody. "When you really love someone," the voice intoned, "you see all their mess, their shattered pieces, and yet, you love them still. In fact, it's precisely those broken fragments that make you love them even more."
Geto's eyes drifted from the TV, his gaze vacant but brimming with the weight of sorrow and longing. He couldn't help but relate those words to Gojo, the man he loved more than life itself. The memory of Gojo's smiles, his messy hair, and the scars he bore from countless battles were etched in Geto's heart, becoming all the more precious with their imperfections. Every scar told a story, every flaw held a piece of Gojo's soul, and Geto cherished them all, even as they tormented his soul in Gojo's absence.
The room was steeped in silence, the words on the television screen reverberating in his mind like a dirge for his own broken heart. Geto's love for Gojo, in all its torment and imperfection, was a testament to the depths of his sorrow. It was a love that had been tested by distance, danger, and darkness, and yet, it burned with an intensity that only the darkest of sorcery could rival.
Love! He mused to himself, a complex, enigmatic emotion that had him ensnared in its intricate web. His thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, an endless spiral of longing and confusion. Yet, amidst his tumultuous introspection, an unfamiliar voice called out his name, shattering the fragile sanctuary of his reverie.
"Suguru, Suguru, can you hear me?"
Startled, Geto's gaze snapped from the abyss of his thoughts to the source of the voice. There, before him, stood Gojo, his presence marred by the unmistakable signs of brutal battle—bruised, bloodied, and gasping for breath. Time seemed to halt as Geto's heart raced with dread.
"Satoru, oh my God," Geto stammered, his voice trembling, his emotions in turmoil. "How... How did this happen?"
Geto struggled to form coherent words, desperate to hold onto his composure as his world teetered on the precipice of despair. Gojo, despite his injuries, tried to reassure him with a faint, brave smile. "It's okay, Suguru. I'm fine, just need some rest."
But Geto's composure was hanging by a thread, and as Gojo's weakened form succumbed to unconsciousness, it snapped. "No, not again, Satoru!"
Geto gently cradled Gojo's battered body in his arms, a surge of panic coursing through him. He rushed Gojo to the bedroom, his movements quick and deft as he sought to staunch the bleeding, change Gojo's blood-soaked clothes. In the process, he became acutely aware of his own appearance, drenched in Gojo's blood.
His hands shook, breath came in ragged gasps, and his thoughts whirled with the terrifying what-ifs. "What if he had been gravely hurt and couldn't have made it here in time? What if..." Panic threatened to overwhelm him.
"I should take a bath," Geto whispered to himself, his voice trembling. After an agonizing fifteen minutes of struggle, he managed to tear himself away from his beloved's side, desperate to wash away the physical and emotional toll of the day. The water ran hot, but it did little to wash away the anguished turmoil that had taken root in his soul, entwined with his profound love for Gojo.
The steam from the hot water enveloped Geto in a comforting embrace as he stood beneath the showerhead. But no matter how scalding the water, it couldn't cleanse the stain of dread and sorrow that clung to his very essence. Each droplet seemed to echo the anguished thoughts that raced through his mind.
As the water cascaded over his body, he couldn't help but replay the moment when he'd first laid eyes on Gojo, battered and bruised, a vision that had filled him with a paralyzing fear he'd never known. The feeling of Gojo's blood on his hands, an indelible reminder of the fragility of the love they shared, left Geto shaken to his core.
The bathroom was filled with a disorienting blend of steam and the sound of running water. Geto leaned his forehead against the cool tiles, his chest heavy with the weight of his emotions. "Satoru," he whispered through trembling lips, as if the name itself held the power to mend his shattered heart.
Time seemed to stretch on, both eternal and fleeting, and as Geto emerged from the shower, he found himself faced with the image of Gojo still unconscious in the bedroom. The wounds were dressed, but Gojo's pallor spoke volumes about the ordeal he'd endured.
Geto sat by Gojo's side, gently cradling his hand and pressing it to his lips. A silent vow formed in the depths of his soul—to protect, to love, and to never let Gojo face such horrors alone again.
The room, though dimly lit, felt like a sanctuary. The steady rhythm of Gojo's breathing was a poignant reassurance. As Geto settled beside him, he knew that the tangled web of love, pain, and longing they shared would never be easy to unravel. Yet, in this moment, amidst the shards of their vulnerability, it was the profound and undying love they held for each other that illuminated their path through the dark.
With a heavy heart and fervent hope, Geto whispered, "We'll face it all together, Satoru. No more lonely battles." And in that room, filled with the remnants of anguish, they clung to each other, bound by a love as powerful as the sorcery they both wielded, a love that had been tested and found to be unbreakable.
Author's Note:
Hi y'all, Nawy here. It's my very first attempt of writing. I hope you enjoyed it 🌼
#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#satosugu#jjk geto#geto suguru#angst#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu geto#jujutsu sorcerer#gojo x geto#stsg#stsg angst#jujutsu kaisen season 2#jjk#jjk s2#jjk gojo#jjk edit#jjk kinktober#jjk angst
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𝐼𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒?
Strange dreams have been had, recently. Lights in your mind, swaying across the darkness of your mind. A blazing heat licks at your mind's insides, before flash freezing into a bone-chilling freeze. Akin to spontaneous combustion, immediately counteracted by the sensation of being submerged deep under an icy river— swept away under the current. The ice above you prevents you from escaping before you're pulled deep beneath the current. At first, you were on fire— your body alight and your skin boiling. Now, you're pulled beneath the depths of an icy crypt, with weights dragging you further down into the crushing depths. All the while, you remain blind, the lights in your mind flashing brighter and brighter. Everlong.
Finally, you awake from your dream with a sudden start. At the counter of a bar you barely remember stumbling into, you're able to see down the bottle of foul-smelling alcoholic beverage. The sun peaks in through the windows, warm and hot. The ground outside the saloon doors is dusty, and sandy. Moments before you can even contemplate how the hell you got to New Austin, a hand swipes away the barely filled bottle of beer. The bartender before you seems absent, but the words he speaks feel like they barely come out of his mouth. More as if the sounds he makes just travel to your ear, an illusion you trick yourself into thinking is all in your head.
"Let me get you another, fella." As if he barely recognized that you were asleep at the bar. Were you asleep? Or did you just get here? Have you been here all night? Or did you wander in minutes ago? Did you submerge into the realm of unconsciousness? Or did you simply lose focus? The sounds around you, the song playing at the piano. A man's fingers wander against the keys, but he's been playing the same few notes in succession. It sounds like a song, and everyone treats it like a song, but is it a song? Or have you just fallen out of tempo with it? A woman moves across the saloon, a tray of beer in her hand that never seems to have less than two glasses, even when she gives one to a patron in the bar— she's briefly obscured for but a moment and one glass turns back into two.
Five men sit at a nearby table, playing poker. Meanwhile, two men seem to share a conversation that never ends. The bar seems like it never progresses a single second in time. It's always just as it always is, nothing more and nothing less. Your eyes finally return to the glass bottle. There's condensation on the glass, but it remains undisturbed. Even as your hand wraps around it, the droplets don't even tremble. However, something about it calls to you, in more than just the normal way that such a vice would. The aroma of what had previously been foul seems more hypnotic, like a scent creeping into your mind. You've been holding the beer bottle for about a minute and a half now—
BANG. The bartender breaks the bottle cap off of the beer bottle, filling your empty hand. A phantom sensation flees your palm before the glass fills it again. Are you even aware of what just happened? Do you even question it? Do you even know what to question? You're not spiraling. You know you can't be. Just take a drink. It won't be too bad, the aroma creeps back into your mind. The bar suddenly gets extremely loud. People are talking, but words don't slip from their mouths. They swirl around you, but they simply just play inside of your ear. They're always just in the back of your ear, but never surrounding you. Never in front of you. Just take a drink.
Just take a drink—
A hand covers the top of the beer bottle. A piece of purple cloth wrapped around the top of the bottle. Eyes trail over to a man in a navy coat. It's seen better days, stitching at the seams has come loose. Heavy bags weigh down tired blue eyes. Silver hair is messy, almost bed-headed. A brown waistcoat is buttoned over a white shirt and a patterned tie rests underneath a collar. The man seems out of place, wearing boots that are laced up and cut just an inch below the knee, with dark green pants tucked into the boots. He speaks, and it seems to break the mode of what the cowboy's already been subjected too. Sound comes out of his mouth precisely where it should be, and functions exactly as you'd expect: Normally.
"Don't drink that."
He's English.
@redemn
#!!!. {in character | ic}#ivb {the scarf doctor: time war}#redemn#//Literally thought about this starter ALL day.#//HAVE FUN HOPE YOU ENJOY#//LMK WHAT YOU THINK.
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I made koulourakia for Easter which I am informed are Greek Easter biscuits?
There is a claim that the shape of these biscuits goes back to Minoan times but I didn't find any evidence for this aside from a fresco showing round shapes in a basket that are also interpreted as fruit. Also, I am always doubtful of claims of continuous traditions, even though I am sure the Minoans had their own versions of cakes and biscuits.
I used this recipe:
250 g butter
250 g sugar
13 g baking ammonium
130 ml lukewarm milk
4 eggs
1 tsp ground vanilla
Zest of 1 big or 2 small oranges
1 kg white flour
2 egg yolks + 1 tbsp of water for the eggwash glaze
Remove the butter from the fridge and cut into pieces so it more quickly reaches room temperature.
Mix the butter and sugar for about 10-15 minutes, until the butter is creamy and fluffy.
In the meantime, heat up the milk until it is lukewarm, then remove the pot from the heat. Add the ammonia and whisk until fully dissolved. Set aside.
Add the eggs one at a time to the sugar-butter-mixture, allowing time for each one to be absorbed, before adding another. Then add the the vanilla, the orange zest and the ammonia milk and blend well. Finally, combine with the flour, a table spoon at a time, until the dough is soft and not too sticky.
Cover the dough and let it rest for 30 minutes.
Shape the koulourakia with your hands, giving them any shape you like: Just pinch off a small ball of the dough (approx. 3 cm in diameter) and roll it into a rope. Twist them into braids, fold them into a vulva boat, roll them into an S or into a spiral: the sky is the limit.
Line a large baking tray with parchment paper and place the koulourakia on it, leaving some distance between them as they will rise a lot while baking. It will take 4-5 baking trays to bake them all.
Whisk the egg yolks and 1 tbsp of water in a small bowl and brush the top of the koulourakia for a beautiful glaze.
Bake in a preheated oven at 200°C/400°F using the hot air fan for 12-20 minutes (depending on your oven), until fully cooked and golden brown on the outside.
Enjoy!!! ☕
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Thinking of when ceo bff baji has his first kiss with bff darling (if he ever gets over his fear of cooties, you know that be a while) he gets quickly addicted to kissing her, now he don’t want kisses on the head, he wants them on his lips.
haven't written bff Baji in a hot minute, this is so cute asdsdasd! have something sweet to usher in the weekends!
Link to CEO Baji HCs; Yan SugarBFF Baji; Bonten Thoughts
Masterlist
Knowing just how hesitant this baby boy is around you to make any moves, too afraid of scaring you away or (heavens forbid) you breaking into pieces at the slightest touch, much to the annoyance of his esteemed underworld colleagues and his impatient mum, Baji's first kiss would probably be by complete accident. Could be something as innocuous as accidentally sitting up when you were trying to peck a kiss to his forehead after cuddles, or you turning around at just the wrong (or right) moment when someone called you while you were cooking - only for Baji to walk straight smack into a kiss with you.
You probably just laughed and apologised before getting back to whatever it was you were doing previously, but your bff Baji on the other hand - instant internal meltdown. If he's not already over the fear of catching 'cooties', well it only makes the panic worse. You don't suspect anything when this baby boy stammers out something about sudden work and then makes a dash for the door - just a little worried that your bestfriend always seemed so busy all the time. But Baji is making a dash not for any work-related emergency, instead rushing out to shake some answers out of Chifuyu who happened to be working down at the pet store for the day.
The blond-haired boy's probably just a little started when Baji bursts through the door already in tears, blabbering about how you hated him and you were going to leave him now for sure, and maybe how he was going to die because he caught the cooties. Swears up and down it was an accident as he's shaking the living daylight out of his other bestfriend, only to switch targets when Kazutora comes waltzing out the employees' staff door. Takes a good whack to the back of his head for the two of them to calm Baji down enough to tell them exactly what happened, only to let out a simultaneous groan when he finally admits that he accidentally kissed you on the lips. And he liked it.
So not the end of the world again - just another overreaction when it came to anything that had to do with you as always. Chifuyu had to slap one hand over Kazutora's mouth before he could say something that would send Baji spiralling, only to very evenly inform Baji that you weren't that sort of person, and that the two of you had been bestfriends for years by now - you probably didn't even realize what happened and wrote it off as an accident.
But the problem was that Baji couldn't stop thinking about that kiss - your lips were soft and sweet, like nothing else he had ever felt before, which he can't help but spill about to his two captive audience. Almost as if the two of you were in love, or married, which Kazutora helpfully teased once he managed to pry Chifuyu's hand off. Had to shake those thoughts out of his head before his face self-combusted with just how red it was turning. But end of the day, Baji loved them kisses, and he wanted more. He wanted them more than he wanted forehead kisses even.
Still a shy baby boy inside honestly, and it took a lot of persuading and threatening to get Baji to even dare suggest it to you. Unsurprisingly, you were happy to simply oblige without a question more, much to Baji's surprise and no one else's.
Every time he asks for kisses still flushes like the middle-school aged boy he is. Denies everything when anyone else asks him about it, threatens to fight everyone else who teases him about falling in love with his bestfriend, and of course, never admits it to you. So you just continuing on living in blissful ignorance, thinking that its probably just some bestfriend thing that Baji was always fighting about, happy to peck a kiss on his lips instead of his forehead and continuing to go about your day as usual.
Never gets his mum off his back when she hears about what happened - the nagging at him about hopping on marrying you already will just intensify from now on.
#yandere tokyo revengers x reader#baji x reader#yandere baji x reader#tokyorev baji#baji keisuke x reader#baji keisuke#yandere tokyo revengers#tokyorev headcanons#tokyo revengers hcs#tokyorev#tokyorev x reader#tokyo rev#tokyo rev baji#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev hcs#cheesus answers#yandere bestfriend baji
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HD Sudsfest: Week Four
We've sadly reached the final week of this year's Sudsfest. We're excited to share a full list of all the works published in the coming weeks, but for now, here are week four's treats. If you haven't yet indulged, what are you waiting for?
[FIC] Steamy Encounters by @drwhoisginnyholmes { E, 2.3k }
Draco wanted to try something new and Harry being shameless when it comes to Draco, heartily agreed. Cue sex in a hot tub. Pissing off Blaise was just an added bonus.
❤️ "Mmmmmmm how sexy and very 🔥🔥🔥" —lijahlover
❤️ "This was hot and sexy!!! I loved Harry taking Draco apart and how much Draco enjoyed the exhibitionism. Fantastic work!!!" —nv-md
[ART] his love, it comforts me by @veelawings { M, Digital Art }
After a long, hard day's work, Harry stumbles home and into the arms of his husband.
❤️ "This may sound unhinged but literally my brain started making goose honking noises about this, which is a bit strange because it’s the opposite of this vibe which is so soft and ethereal and sweet and not goose-like at all." —phdmama
❤️ "oh this is so soft and comforting! The overhead shot of Harry in the bath is particularly lovely 💖 thanks for sharing!!" —innerlilith
[FIC] The Strange Case of Draco Malfoy’s Underwear by @dracopetal { T, 12k }
Harry spies something strange in the showers after Draco Malfoy joins his professional Quidditch team, and it sends him spiralling down a familiar path of obsession.
And this time, Malfoy’s hot.
❤️ "Oh my gosh! I loved this! It was just so cute. Harry is so dumb. 😂 How dare he not know every single thing about Draco." —podsgirl
❤️ "aaaaaaa i love this so much" —pitzer
[FIC] the crack in the ceiling by @brightluminae { M, 1k }
Draco's showers are always quick, efficient. Harry listens to them from the other room.
❤️ "Argh. Come on Harry! Be brave! So heart-breaking 💙" —blueheart_v
❤️ "oh wow, this was heartbreaking 😭 ... But really, the way Harry stares at the crack in the ceiling, his dissociation, the strength of his pining—beautiful!" —innerlilith
[FIC] Of Double Trouble and Bubble Baths by @drakaina101 { E, 26k }
Having not seen Draco for ten long years, it seemed like a great idea to offer to cat-sit for him. Harry could never have known what it would lead to, or that one of the hairless demons would be determined to kill him.
❤️ "Oh oh oh oh….. this is fantastic! Hairless cats seem like a very Draco thing lol, and the way you changed years was lovely, it felt very natural and flowing" —big_biscuit
❤️ "I loved this!! Hairless cats are perfect for Draco, omg, and Harry's relationship with them was just *chef's kiss*... Just so lovely and fun with fantastic visuals and humor. ❤️" —oflights
[ART] Lover’s Falls by @slytherco { E, Digital Art }
During a covert romantic getaway, Harry and Draco find their own slice of paradise on the other side of the world.
❤️ "absolutely gorgeous!!!!! the poses look so fluid and natural, the rendering of their hair is especially beautiful, the complex background and bright colors are joyful, and the idea to have multiple scenes in one cohesive background is inspired! i adore this piece!!!" —okaysky
❤️ "Wow! This is absolutely gorgeous! The linework, the colors, the steam! I love the arch of Draco's back and Harry's expression. This is so sexy" —reliand
[FIC + ART] in his hands by @babooshkart & @softlystarstruck { E, Digital Art, 3k }
Harry gives Draco the gift of letting go.
❤️ "Oh this is so soft and gorgeous!! I love how tender they are, in both fic and art. The absolute trust Draco has in Harry, and Harry’s unwavering care. And that art, holy fuck boo!!" —basicallyahedgehog
❤️ "Omg I love it when you two work together and this was GORGEOUS! It was so tender and hot at the same time. The art took my breath away, and the story matched that soft take on bondage exploration. I loved all the pink: pink skin, pink rope marks, pink water." —lqtraintracks
[FIC] 100 Beats per Minute by @oknowkiss { E, 14k }
When Draco left the Magical World behind at nineteen, he didn't expect the cusp of thirty would find him comfortable and secure, with a stable life and a successful career as a sex columnist. Stable, that is, until he meets the subject of his newest column -- a stranger calling himself James, who has dragged them both to Ibiza on a sex quest of epic proportions -- and everything Draco ever knew turns upside down all over again.
❤️ "I have slaked my thirst, I have perished, I refuse to reread a single word of this comment to keep its integrity though I'm sure I sound deranged 😘" —skeptique
❤️ "i'm eating thanksgiving leftovers as i read this and i am very thankful for you. thank you for your consistently incredible takes on these stupid slutty idiots. also, for you consistently sending me into fits of screaming laughter with a single line..." —geesenoises
[FIC] Paragraph Twelve, Clause Four by InnerLilith { E, 15k }
Harry loves nothing more than a nice, leisurely wank in the bath. He thinks Draco can’t hear him. Draco can hear him.
❤️ "THIS WAS SO GOOD AHHHHH!!! The setup, the tension, the exquisite writing, HOT DAMN. Loved it!" —mx_maneater
❤️ "oh my GOD LILITH. i love this SO MUCH!!!!! i actually had to take several breaks just to stare at the ceiling and try not to scream. the alternating POV is absolutely genius. the way you unfolded the entire story through their perceptions of the same circumstances… brilliant!" —oknowkiss
weekly roundup art by fictional, do not repost
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Oh my god we both have diluc and raiden, i gave up on the spiral abyss so long ago but maybe it's time to try again
Anyways back to reason i'm sending an ask, PLEASEEEE can we have sweaty after workout/fight fics or concepts. It literally used to be the first thing i scrolled to find when i felt horny on your page!! Ngl i miss so many old posts for the soul fact you were (and still are) one of the only good writer ive found for sweaty men and like cocky CEO x clumsy intern/assistant <3
-🎲
i’m very happy to hear i can be of service HEHE. i miss a lot of my old posts as well… swim team captain childe and bullboy diluc my beloved. we’ll build it all back up piece by piece; sweaty, musky men and CEO men x secretary darlings are always in season here!
since you mentioned diluc… i’m currently thinking about diluc coming back inside after a long day of tending to the vineyards, overseeing outdoor work like loading up carts for deliveries, hauling bales of hay around, and pushing crates and barrels around. he’s exceptionally handsome like this, you think— his ponytail coming slightly loose from all the manual labor he undertook earlier, bangs messy and damp with sweat as he brushes them away from his sweaty forehead, strong, veiny forearms and biceps exposed after he shirked his outer layers to cool off, and most importantly of all… just the scent of a day’s worth of hard work. hard work does have a scent, and it comes in the form of your husband’s rich, musky smell after a long day spent under the hot sun with only the occasional wet towel to provide some comfort. just the image of diluc panting and groaning after lifting something heavy and wiping his damp forehead with the back of his hand, sweat rolling down his neck… yum.
you’ve told diluc before you just… enjoy the smell of him after he’s spent so many hours working so hard, and he doesn’t totally seem to understand your little kink, but he doesn’t mind. he doesn’t mind stopping in to your shared bedroom to shed his clothes and spend a minute with you before he takes to the showers— he thinks the act of ridding himself of his sweat-soaked clothes is just divine— and it gives you a second to indulge in the sight of his sweaty muscles and the smell of his musk. it’s a very delicious combination.
#not exactly post fight/workout but it’s where my mind went ehe#hope that works!!!#🎲 anon#cw sweat#diluc smut#diluc x reader#juju bakery
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