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#kind of fluff
writingmingyu · 2 years
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Mornings With Mingyu
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Pairings: Mingyu x afab reader Summary: Morning sex with Mingyu Genre: smut/fluff Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus Word count: ~2k
Author’s Note: I started this last month and it was 99% finished and I just couldn't figure out how to write an ending at all. It's like the worst part of writing for me I can't end things haha.
So yeah the ending to this is not amazing but the rest of it I think is good, I hope you enjoy it. And if anyone has any advice on how to end stories let me know.
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You wake up to the sound of light snoring in your ear. The weight of one of Mingyu's strong arms over your shoulder as he unconsciously pulls you closer to his body, your back against his chest.
Mingyu rarely slept over but when he did it was bliss. You stayed up late playing video games or watching movies and he would always cuddle you until you fell asleep. 
And when you woke up, he was just there. You loved waking up with him, morning Mingyu was one of your favourites. He was always so sleepy and goofy, an adorable giant. 
You take a peek at your watch to check the time, it's early and the sun is peaking through your curtains. Thankfully Mingyu didn't have to be at work for a while so you could enjoy this time with him. Even if he was sleeping, his body was warm and you felt extra cosy in the sheets with him around you. He made you feel safe in his arms, and his body just fit around yours perfectly. 
Suddenly Mingyu's arm is no longer around you as he shifts to his other side. You turn with him and wrap your arm under his becoming the big spoon. Your face buried into his shoulder breathing in his musky scent. 
You think about turning his alarm off, getting him to play hooky with you and stay home but you knew Jihoon would be angry at you. Mingyu was meant to be in the studio today, recording a new song. He had talked about it last night saying he needed to rest his voice, not that it stopped him from talking the whole way through the movie you watched together. 
Mingyu begins to turn again in his sleep, you move out of his way so he doesn't crush you. You use this opportunity to run to the bathroom and freshen up before Mingyu wakes up.
When you return, Mingyu is awake and scrolling through his phone.
"Morning," you say climbing back into bed and snuggling in next to him.
"Good morning," he replies, scratching your head as he reads his messages. "Did you sleep well?"
"The best," 
"Me too, I always sleep better when I'm with you."
You smile and reach up to take Mingyu's phone, setting it to the side before you climb on top of him, straddling him and kissing him good morning.
"So we have some time before you have to leave," you start when you sit up, "Maybe we could put this morning wood to some use." you roll your hips to cause friction between your crotch and Mingyu's.
He laughs and pulls you down for a long kiss, rolling you over so he is now on top of you, the weight of him sinking you into the mattress. 
"So that's why you got me to stay over huh?" Mingyu said, burying his head into the crook of your neck and peppering it in kisses. 
"It's one of the reasons that crossed my mind," you replied, rubbing your foot along the back of his thigh as you hooked your leg around him to bring him closer. 
Mingyu shifted his weight into one arm as he kissed up your jaw to meet your lips again, his other hand travelling up your hip and under the t-shirt, you are wearing to caress your breast.
His movements are slow and lazy but you aren't in any hurry, you enjoyed having this time with your boyfriend where it felt like you were the only two people in the world. 
Mingyu begins to kiss down your jaw again, moving down towards your breasts, pushing your t-shirt the whole way up so he can tease your nipples with his mouth. His teeth lightly bite them causing you to thrust your hips towards him, the pleasure causing your arousal to begin to seep into your underwear. 
He smiles against your skin before kissing further down your body, stopping at the waistband of your lacy underwear. "You look so beautiful in the morning," Mingyu sighs sitting up. 
You blush under his gaze, pulling your t-shirt down as you feel overexposed. Usually, when you hooked up it was in the evening with low lighting and so Mingyu had never seen you so bare in the daylight. 
"Don't hide," Mingyu sits you up pulling your t-shirt over your head. "Don't be self-conscious with me, I love your body," he says between kisses as he makes his way from your jaw back down your body. "Your breasts are perfect, so soft and perky. Your hips are so sexy when you sway them side to side on your short skirts,"
You're on your back again as Mingyu's hands begin sliding your underwear down your legs. "And your legs are so long, your thighs so full. I want to bury myself between them all day, pleasuring you, tasting you." His face is between your legs now, one hand on each thigh, his breath on your core, your breathing has turned shallow in anticipation for him to touch you.
"Yes please Gyu," you say looking down at him.
Mingyu kisses along your thighs, getting close to your pussy but not touching it yet, teasing you and causing you to push your hips towards him but his hands are keeping you firmly on the mattress. 
Finally, his tongue touches your core and you let out a moan as he lazily drags it along your folds and around your clit. "You taste so sweet," Mingyu smiles before he continues working his tongue over you, causing you to whisper his name over and over as your pleasure begins to build. 
"Gyu, please I need you," You whine, his tongue feeling amazing but you wanted to feel him inside you, his body on yours. 
"As you wish baby," Mingyu stands so he can remove his underwear, a wet patch had formed at the front from his arousal. His cock stands proudly as he kneels back down between your thighs, he rubs his length along your core to coat himself in your arousal.
You lean up to kiss him as he slowly pushes his cock into you, his mouth capturing your moans as his hips meet yours. 
He is still inside you, enjoying the feel of your walls enveloping his member. You stare into each other's eyes, enjoying the closeness. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he caresses your cheek.
"You feel so good," Mingyu says as he begins to move his hips.
"You feel better," you reply, kissing his neck as his head buries into your shoulder. 
Neither of you is in a hurry for this connection to end, so you take your time, Mingyu's hands locking with yours as he moves at a steady pace. 
"I could stay like this all day," he sighs, his weight shifting you further into the mattress as he thrusts deeply into you. "Your pussy is so warm and wet, you look so sexy right now."
"So do you," You breathe looking up at him, his muscular chest pressed against you. His hair messy and loose around his face.
You kiss deeply as Mingyu pulls out of you and pulls you on top of him so he is on his back. You don't hesitate to sink back down onto his length.
"Correction, I could stay like this all day," Mingyu says reaching around to squeeze your ass. 
You laugh and begin to move slowly, forgetting about feeling self-conscious as Mingyu looks at you adoringly. 
You continue to ride his cock, enjoying the angle at which his tip is touching your G spot, instinctively you want to move faster and harder but you restrain yourself to enjoy the journey. 
"Your cock feels so good inside me Gyu," you say, one hand moving down towards your clit to increase your pleasure. 
"Let me," Mingyu brushes your hand away and his thumb begins to tease you. 
You lean back a little, hands on his thighs to support you to give him further access to your clit. Your head rolling back at the sensation. 
"God you're so perfect," Mingyu moans. "I wanna see you cum on my cock,"
Almost as if on command your body begins to unravel, his name on your lips as you feel the familiar feeling of release. Your walls clenching around his cock coating it in your cum. All the while, Mingyu's fingers continue to work on your clit bringing you to a new high. 
You stop moving above him, you sit yourself up and look down at your man. His chest rising and falling steadily, a smile on his lips.
"You look so good when you're cumming baby," Mingyu shifts to sit up against the headboard, bringing you with him, his cock still hard inside you.
"If you say so," you reply, resting your head on his shoulder.
"You do," he insists, stroking your hair.
"Your turn," you say after a few minutes, Mingyu's cock had been twitching inside you while you had been snuggled together. Neither of you seemed to have minded the position and it didn't seem like Mingyu was in a hurry to cum.
"I'm good right here,"
"You can't stay like this all day you know, Jihoon will be so pissed if you're late."
"It'll be fine," Mingyu shrugs you off. You raise yourself up to remove his length from you but his hands come down quickly on your hips. "Don't be mean," he whines.
You roll your eyes and then begin to ride his cock again, slow and steady. Mingyu murmurs your name as his hands palm at your breasts and trail down your body. 
"Feel good Gyu?" You ask, your breathing heavy.
"So good," his breathing hitches as you increase your movement and your walls tighten around him. "I can't wait to fill your tight little pussy with my cum."
His hips begin to move underneath you, his hands on your ass, lifting you so he can take over the movements, thrusting into you from below. 
"Fuck Gyu," you say feeling the pleasure inside you building. "You're gonna make me cum again."
"Good," he grunts as he looks down at where his body is connected to yours. "I love feeling you cum around my cock."
Mingyu continues to thrust his hips up, hitting your good spot, you dig your fingers into his shoulders to support yourself, moaning his name over and over again getting close to your release.
"Cum for me Gyu," you say looking at his face, he's caught off guard at your sentence but he locks eyes with you. He feels himself getting close at your command.
"Say it again," he says, his fingers digging into your hips. 
"Cum for me," you whisper feeling yourself let go. 
Mingyu cums seconds after, the feeling of you around him sending him over the edge. He curses under his breath, slowing his movement as you feel his cock pulse and coat your insides with his cum.
You're both quiet as you catch your breath. You slowly raise yourself off of Mingyu and lie down next to him.
"Talk about a good morning," you say stretching out. 
"The best," Mingyu plants a kiss on your forehead. 
You cuddle into him, your head laying on his chest. You feel yourself drifting back to sleep again, listening to the rhythm of Mingyu's heart beating beneath you. 
A few minutes later you hear Mingyu swear as he is trying to move without waking you. You lift your head to show you're awake and see Mingyu's eyes widen. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"It's okay, are you running late?" You rub your eyes and check your watch. 
"A little, but it's okay," you watch as Mingyu gathers up his clothes. "I'm sorry we didn't get to have breakfast together."
"Don't worry, I'm sure you can make it up to me."
You stand to wrap your arms around him even though he's trying to get dressed. He drops his clothes to the floor to pick you up to his height and kisses you deeply. “See you next week?”
“Try not to miss me too much,” you say as Mingyu sets you down.
“I’ll do my best.”
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natsxaddiction · 1 year
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Sixteen Candles Snippet
“Can it be obvious that you’re gay?” Bunny fiddles with the sleeve of her jacket. She looks everywhere but at Natasha’s face before she sighs. “I know some people. They don’t hide it and everything.” She attempts to explain herself. “Do you think maybe my mom, my birth mom, doesn’t want me or love me because she knew?”
Natasha doesn’t know how to answer this question. She looks into Bunny’s eyes and she sees so much pain.
“I tried to stop,” Bunny sits up. “I tried to make myself enjoy what -“ she stops herself. She doesn’t want to think about that. “I was just wondering if it’s possible for people to know that about you ? Just by looking. If so, why would they stop loving you for it ? When Riley came out to me I loved her even more. I was scared for her. In my own young twisted mind. But I loved her because she trusted me with the truest part of herself and I couldn’t imagine losing her just because of that.” She rocks on the balls of her feet.
“I think it’s possible to know,” Natasha treads carefully. “I think that there may not be a reason we can come up with for Sherry’s behavior.”
Bunny frowns. Her head drops, her lip quivers, and when she looks up again her eyes shine.
“There has to be though,” She breathes slowly. “I need to know ? What did I do ? How do I stop it from happening again ? What if I do something, and I don’t even know, but it hurts or makes other people mad. What if that happens and then you guys won’t want me either ?”
“We will always want you,” Natasha says firmly. She’s not phased by her words. Words mean nothing. “Always.”
“When I was younger,” Bunny begins. “I never told you this before.” Bunny’s lips are in a thin line. “I would, um, I would pretend different women on tv were my mom. Like I could picture them taking care of me and everything. It’s stupid.” She mumbles the last part. “But, I, saw you on tv one day. It was for some press thing. I don’t know. You didn’t seem to be having fun but you were cool. I liked your suit.”
Natasha listens as Bunny tells her a sweet memory. She doesn’t know where this conversation is going exactly. She’s only here to show support.
“So I imagined you were my mom sometimes,” She adjusts the sleeves over her hands. “I would make up stories. Mainly to myself. How maybe you had given birth to me and maybe I got lost and you just needed to find me. Or maybe you didn’t get a chance to know me. We’re so different though.It doesn’t make sense logically. It’s crazy right?” She snorts at her imagination. “I would write letters and play pretend. I wish the Avengers would just swoop in and save me And I guess somewhere along the way I actually believed it. I started to forget after my mom read my diary one day. I didn’t keep one for a while after that. I stopped pretending. Everything I wanted didn’t make sense in real life. I was living a fairy tale.”
“Bunny…” Natasha begins.
“I know it’s weird,”
“It’s not weird,” Natasha protests. She rounds the counter to come and stand before Bunny. “You did what made you feel better to survive. That’s not weird.”
“Maybe a little,” She cracks a smile. “I don’t want to ruin things. I don’t want you to adopt me and then change your mind. I want to be a good daughter.”
“You are a good daughter,” Natasha gently caresses her cheek. “You’re amazing. Everything we could ask for and more.”
“Same,” Bunny says to lighten the mood. Natasha smiles back at her. “I’m really glad you’re my mom.”
“I’m really glad you’re my daughter.”
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emberglowfox · 10 months
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i dont think the sages are distinctly aware of everything their avatars are doing, but i imagine some things probably bleed through
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xxsabitoxx · 6 months
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Okay so hear me out, Satoru is very adamant on never wanting kids. And by that, he means kids born from him, he somehow always manages to adopt every "problem" child that comes his way (Megumi, Yuta, Itadori, etc). And his reason for this is because he knows how badly the higher-ups want him to produce a child. They desperately want an heir to the Gojo-clan considering Satoru is the head. He's been listening to them discuss this since he was old enough to remember, which in turn has made him very against the idea of having kids.
Until he met you. Sometimes he finds himself envisioning what it would be like to raise a child with you, one that shares the perfect mix of your DNA and his. A world where he can have a child and raise them to not have a care in the world about curses and jujutsu. But he knows that it is a dream he'll never achieve so long as the higher-ups are alive and well. That child, as well as you, would be under strict watch at all times, just as he had been as a child with his mother. He didn't want that for you, never mind a hypothetical child.
Then, your period is late, and Satoru is breaking out in a cold sweat as you both watch the pregnancy test develop on the bathroom counter. He sees it before you, a faint second line that indicates it's positive. By the time you see the second line, Satoru is already thinking of ways to get you and your unborn baby out of Japan before the higher-ups learn of this.
However, Satoru would sooner kill them all before letting them know of the heir to the Gojo-clan growing in your womb. With that thought, he's seriously considering it. Until you tell him to save it as a last resort. You don't want to leave Japan and you want him to be present for your pregnancy as well as the baby's birth. So, Satoru conjures up a crazy idea, you'll hide your pregnancy and the birth of the baby. You'll continue living as you are now, nobody in the jujutsu world, not even his students, will catch wind of you being pregnant.
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junosmindpalace · 7 months
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you don’t like to kiss satoru when he wears his blindfold.
you understand why he wears it, and you don’t have any problem with it besides how distanced you feel from him when he tries to be intimate with it on. so while you never ask him to take it off, you simply refuse to engage him when he wears it. 
you felt guilty even feeling this way in the first place—after all, satoru’s health came before your own selfish wants. but you still couldn’t help your uneasiness when trying to be affectionate with him while half his face was completely blocked off from you. 
and satoru doesn’t like this. he’s not immensely clingy, or at least not often enough to call him clingy, but he does like to have you near him, tuck you into his side and steal a slow kiss or two from you on occasion. especially when he’s feeling stressed or annoyed does he seek out your soothing touch, which tended to be pretty often from how demanding the higher ups are of him. 
you’ll still lend a listening ear, lean in real close and scan his face as if trying to see those bright blue eyes of his through the dark mask he often wears, perhaps even wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his hair held up by the fabric around his head. and most of the time simply being near you, touching you in one way or another is enough to soothe his aching muscles and tense mind. but when he leans in to press his lips against yours and you dodge, he immediately realizes that it’s not enough.
“you’re mean.” he pouts, and though you can’t see his eyebrows crease in distress, you can certainly imagine it, and you laugh.
“when we’re at home.” you reassure him, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. 
he speculated for some time that you rejected him because of the setting, that it was unprofessional or perhaps embarrassing. but you had no problem angling his head toward you and stealing a kiss from his lips on the rare occasion he decided to wear his glasses to work, and so he eventually managed to piece together that the blindfold was the problem.
satoru’s frown only deepens, because he wants a kiss from you now. why should he have to wait to kiss his own partner? 
“just a small one. a quick one.” he tries to bargain, holding your elbows, but you only shake your head with an amused smile. 
“later.” you promise, and before he can press further, your students start to approach and your attentions are required elsewhere.
you uphold your promise, cupping his face and kissing him deeply and with so much love behind closed doors as if you were anticipating it as much as he was—when his blindfold is off. but he’s still troubled by the fact that you refuse to kiss him with it on. it’s a part of him. do you think he’s ugly with it on? that’s got to be it.
he continues to whine and chase after your lips while the two of you are at work, but you only chuckle and angle his face away, and eventually it really strikes a nerve, wanting to know why you were so adamant on avoiding his kiss when he was wearing his blindfold. you haven’t tried even once! 
he brings up this concern when you two are home, when your bodies are messily intertwined on your living room couch, satoru’s chin propped up on your chest and your hand yet again cupping his face as you cuddled and giggled about whatever sort of conversation you were making that night. in the security of your shared home and in your comforting embrace does satoru allow himself to wind down, letting his cursed energy just seep out and using it as an incentive to relax a slight bit. 
you say something and he laughs, and upon seeing his smile and endearing eyes crinkle happily, you lean in slightly to kiss him. 
he immediately reciprocates, the hold he has around your waist tightening. but then he remembers being in a similar scenario hours prior, and you refused to meet his lips then. so he pulls away gently and his smile slightly drops.
“why don’t you kiss me when i wear my blindfold?”
you’re caught off guard by the question, and his knit brows and the slight sadness in his tone makes your breath hitch. this was the thing about satoru without his blindfold. you could clearly see every piece of him. every vulnerable expression, every crease on his face, every emotion on display for you to bask in. you could rub your thumb over his cheek and not have it bump over the fabric that feels like it’s pushing you out, suppressing your affection.
satoru without his blindfold was open, intimate, whole. but when he wrapped the fabric around his eyes, it felt like he was also hiding a part of himself you adored. not the overwhelming strength he held in those enchanting blue eyes of his, but the love and affection they glimmered with when he was with you, a glimmer you’re sure was reflected in your own eyes as well. a part of him that displayed his adoration clear as day. 
“it’s silly, satoru.” you tell him reluctantly, playing with his hair. his sad smile makes you feel guilty, but the part of you that feels shut away with that blindfold overtakes an insecurity deep inside. “i don’t want to concern you with it.”
“you gotta tell me what’s up, sweets. think i’m ugly?” he tries to tease, and you roll your eyes.
“just feel distant from you, ‘s all.” 
voicing it aloud makes you feel small and just as silly as you told him it is. perhaps you were overthinking things too much. 
you’re afraid to explain any further, because you don’t know if you can without sounding even more insecure than you feel, but satoru immediately understands, and all the tension he’s built over the situation melts away in an instant, and he chuckles.
“like my eyes on you, huh?” he wiggled his brows, and you scoff, moving your hands down to his neck. he leans in a little closer, speaks a little softer. “they’re always on you.” 
your heart flutters as he kisses over the side of your jaw, giggling at the slight tickling sensation. he mimics your smile when he hears you laugh. 
he thinks he understands. if he wasn’t able to see those gorgeous eyes of your as they crease when you laugh, or gaze up at him in awe when he pulls away from a kiss only you could make so sweet, he thinks he’d also feel shut out, robbed of that small but intimate and beautiful part of you that leaves him breathless. he had a responsibility as the strongest to keep himself in line, but he also had a responsibility to you. he committed to that responsibility ages ago when you first met. 
he stares up at you from the crook of your neck, and it’s as if there’s hearts in his eyes, a sight that never fails to fluster you when you realize that it’s all directed at you. why would you want to kiss him while his blindfold was on when you were deprived of this sight while doing so? instead met with nothingness?
“just try to kiss me with my blindfold.” he mumbles, and it sounds insensitive after what you told him, but it’s exactly why he wants to prove that not a single ounce of love for you is hidden away when he wears it.
you frown, but still reach to grab it from when he threw it on the coffee table hours ago. you wrap it around his eyes for him, feeling slightly saddened by the sight already, but his lovesick smile never falters.
and as soon as your hands lower from behind his head, he’s gently pushing his lips against yours, and it feels every bit of kind and loving and special as it did when you kissed him without it. his lips move slowly, yet passionately, with yours, and you can’t believe you ever expected anything different.
and when he finally pulls away, you could swear you see those bright blue eyes of his staring at you with that dizzying gaze that makes you feel light and loved. you still feel a lot more exposed than he is though, and you can’t help but blush and bring your hands over your face to try and even the playing field.
he laughs at this reaction and tries to pry your hands away from your face. “so? anything different?” he grins, feeling proud knowing he accomplished his goal from your reaction, and you laugh. 
“i still prefer it off.”
“that’s fine,” he hums, lowering the band so it hangs loosely around his neck with one hand, bringing your hands down away from your face with the other. “i prefer it off too.” 
and from then on you become a little more comfortable kissing satoru with his blindfold on, and he’s over the moon at you now indulging him when he’d pull you into a random empty classroom and lean in close.
but he doesn’t see the harm in compromise, however, so he’ll indulge you too. and when he’s feeling particularly eager, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist, quickly tug his blindfold down to his neck, and capture your lips in a breathless kiss. 
whether he does this in an empty classroom or to say hello or goodbye before heading off on a mission with his students, you get to see those mesmerizing blue eyes shine with all the affection and love he holds for you. 
besides, you can't help but admit that it’s even more satisfying when he does it in front of others, tugging the blindfold off simply for your sake, showing off to everyone else the state you reduce him too. 
so perhaps you’ve grown to like kissing satoru when he wears his blindfold.  
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supercutszns · 3 months
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Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸
fighting chance; luke castellan
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wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader
synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.
warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3
notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!
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You’re not much of a fighter.
That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Unless you’re a child of Ares.
People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.
Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.
There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.
The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.
He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.
He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.
The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.
“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.
“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”
“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.
You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.
He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”
“Confer?”
“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”
A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.
“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”
It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?
“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.
He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.
“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”
“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.
You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”
His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.
“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”
It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.
The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.
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You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”
You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.
“All good?” He asks gently.
It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”
Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.
“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.
He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.
“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”
Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.
“And you’ve always got our flag.”
You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.
He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.
There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.
Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.
The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.
Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”
“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”
“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.
Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.
“Luke—”
“I’ll find her!”
He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.
He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.
It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.
“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”
The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.
“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.
You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”
“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”
The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.
Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.
You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.
The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.
“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”
Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.
Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.
Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.
The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.
Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.
And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.
“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.
The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.
“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”
“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”
“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.
“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”
“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.
“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”
It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.
The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”
Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”
He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.
Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.
“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”
Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.
The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”
“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”
He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”
You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.
You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”
You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.
“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”
You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”
“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”
“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”
You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.
Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”
“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”
You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.
“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”
Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”
The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.
“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.
“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”
“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”
“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.
You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”
It makes you smile. “So second-best?”
“Tied for first.”
He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.
“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”
“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”
You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.
Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.
“Don’t care,” Luke says.
You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”
“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”
You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.
You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.
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canisalbus · 6 months
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What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.
✦ Separation ✦
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seiwas · 13 days
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bakugo can’t sleep until you’re home.
it’s weird and wholly unexpected of himself, staying up past the bedtime he’s spent his entire youth following. but then, he guesses, that’s just one of the things you’ve managed to affect in him.
there’s no reason he should feel this uneasy; you share your location and reply regularly. your last message to him was 5 minutes ago and you’d even sent a selfie.
he knows the people you’re out with, knows the place your friends have chosen to party in. there are plenty of reasons for him to believe that you’ll make it back home safely.
but there’s always that one probability, that one off-chance that something happens—that something goes wrong.
he shuts his eyes, turning to face the ceiling after an unsuccessful 30 minutes of attempting to sleep on his side. his breathing speeds up ever so slightly, chest rising and falling in tandem with the thumps growing louder in his ears.
bakugo fidgets every time he blinks underneath his closed eyes—little zaps beneath his skin telling him to stay awake, stay alert; stay on his toes.
it must be the hero in him.
a large exhale, before bright red burns through the ceiling—he stares so intently at the space above him it’s a wonder a gaping hole hasn’t formed from it.
the pillow to his right is still empty, but it smells so much like your shampoo, his senses are playing tricks on him. comfort accompanied by worry.
he huffs out, finally getting up to slip his feet into his house slippers—a pair of fluffy orange he wouldn’t dare be caught in.
(but it’s from you, and it matches your black ones too.)
he paces around the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of cold water. the time on the wall reads 1:34 in the morning—he has to be up in 3 hours for an early start at the gym before patrol.
you’d told him he should go ahead and sleep but he can’t—he never can when he’s thinking about you.
a yawn escapes him, eyes watering. he might as well be productive and look over some of yesterday’s—
then you enter the door.
you’re a little bit of a stumbling mess as you turn the lock behind you, toeing off your heels on the genkan while holding onto the walls for support. you barely notice him until you spot those familiar orange fuzzy slippers in front of you.
“g’na fall over like this,” he mumbles, voice rough as he follows it with a tut, “stay still.”
before you fully realize it, he’s already knelt to the floor, cradling your ankle on his thigh with a gentleness reserved just for you.
“katsuki,” you whisper in surprise, “you’re still up.”
he hums, pressing his thumbs all over the sole of your foot before picking up the other.
“couldn’t sleep.”
he’ll spare you the details, the thrum of his heartbeat steadying, slowing now that you’re here with him. he yawns again, eyes starting to feel just a bit heavy. comfort and relief.
it must be because he loves you, he thinks.
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strangersmunsons · 3 months
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you’re sleepy. Eddie can’t help but love on you. eddie munson x fem!reader, ~600 words
It’s been a long, long day, and you’re really feeling it. Your feet hurt, your back aches, your eyelids feel much heavier than you think they have a right to.
You’re curled up on top of the plush bed covers, nearly asleep. In the distance, there’s the click of the front door unlocking, and then footsteps in the hallway, and then the thud of heavy boots being kicked off and forgotten.
“Sweetheart?”
Eddie pads through the apartment, poking his head curiously into the bedroom. You generally try not to nap after work, so you won’t have trouble falling asleep later in the night. But there you are: just half-awake, too exhausted to even crawl beneath the blanket.
He softens. “Hey, pretty,” he says as he crosses the room, coming to a stop next to the bed. He stands over you, and reaches down to stroke a gentle finger across your cheek. “You okay?”
You yawn and nod. “M’tired.”
Eddie chuckles. “I can see that. Busy day?”
“Mmhmm.” You’re unwilling — or simply unable — to verbalize much more.
His hand slips around to the back of your head, cradling it sweetly in his palm. The tips of his ringed fingers work through your hair and rub gently at your scalp. You twist on the bed and try to push your head deeper into his hand, wanting more of his touch.
A rush of affection surges through his chest; pure love with a dash of amusement. He loves it when you get like this. Cuddly and needy and warm, eager to be loved on by him — him, Eddie Munson, of all people.
He crouches down beside the bed so you’re at eye-level and leans in to smother you with kisses. He leaves no feature untouched, pressing his lips to every square inch of your face: your forehead, your closed eyes, the tip of your nose. He smacks kisses to each cheek and to your chin, dots them all the way around your jawline, until he hits that sweet spot right underneath your ear.
“Mmm,” you sigh in quiet delight, hands grasping at his sturdy shoulders.
“Is that nice?” The words are muffled, his mouth still working against your skin.
You nod.
Eddie gathers you up in his arms, careful not to jostle you too roughly. He’s not really trying to get you riled up (although he’s not completely opposed to the idea); he just wants a moment with his girl.
You mumble against his lips. “Eddie?”
He gives you another peck. “Yeah?”
You play with a curly tendril of hair, twirling it around your finger. “I thought about you all day today,” you whisper.
At those words Eddie swears he can feel everything inside of him move.
If anyone ever asked him to describe what love feels like, he doesn’t think he could explain it any further than that.
“You did?” he whispers back.
“Uh-huh.”
“All day?” His face splits into a slow smile, one that’s syrupy-sweet, and his eyes glitter, brows raised. “Really?”
He’s teasing you, but only a little.
You laugh breathlessly. “All day,” you repeat.
He hums in response and pulls you in even closer, so he can give you a proper kiss, one that’s slow and precise.
Your body slumps against his, letting Eddie’s strong arms support your weight.
“Alright, sleepy girl.” He noses at your hairline. “Why don’t I at least make us dinner first, before you go passing out on me?”
“Mmkay.” You let yourself fall back down onto the pillows with a hazy smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
When he reaches the doorway, he turns back and blows you another kiss.
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therainywriter · 3 months
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Missed You 18+ (Smut/Fluff)
Pairing: Mike Schmidt x F!Reader
Abby had you on the floor, coloring with her as she simultaneously watched an old cartoon. She kicked her feet back and forth, eyes slowly growing heavy as she fought back sleep.
You suppressed a smile, knowing she was waiting for Mike to come home, she always did. It was an endearing thing and showed just how much she loved him. Even if he sometimes thought otherwise.
You were growing drowsy yourself and stood with a yawn, “Let’s put you to bed kiddo,” you mumbled to her sweetly, having adopted the nickname from Mike.
She seemed to ponder over your words for a moment before she reluctantly gathering her things. You put her papers and crayons away as she snuggled into bed.
You tucked her in and turned off the lights, pausing when her voice called out to you, “Will you leave the door cracked.. please?”
You nodded, “Of course, sweet dreams Abby,” you said softly, heart melting when she whispered goodnight.
You did as she asked and left the door cracked before you made your way back into the living room. You cleaned up what little mess the two of you had made and curled up on the couch.
The house was quiet aside of mumbling voices on the TV, you were warm and cozy, cuddled so snugly in the corner that you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep.
You awoke just as Mike was closing the front door. He gave you a tired smile as he took off his boots and joined you on the couch.
He pulled you onto him, letting you stay tucked within your fluffy blankets. You hummed, laying your head on his chest, pressing a kiss there as he sighed.
“Rough night?” you asked with a gentle frown, looking up at his pretty brown eyes.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice weary. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, working his way down until he met your lips.
“Missed you,” he whispered, pulling you closer as his mouth moved slowly against yours.
You gripped onto his shirt, moaning softly in response. You missed him too, terribly so.
He’d been gone more often than not recently, you’d even debated driving down to that old pizzeria just to see him.
He grabbed your legs and positioned them around his waist before grabbing your hips to rock you against him.
His head fell back, lips parting from yours as he moved you how he pleased. You hid at his neck, one hand grasping arm as the other griped his shoulder.
You whined when he thrust his hips up against you, jeans hard against your soft pajamas. The friction had you squirming, a familiar throb forming between your legs.
“Wanna fuck you,” he groaned, reaching down to slide his hand in your cotton shorts. He swiped his middle finger along your wet folds, rubbing at your pussy a little before slipping his finger into his mouth.
“M’ gonna fuck you,” he said, voice strained in a hush, “right now.”
You whimpered at the promise, letting him lift you up and carry you to his bed. He carefully kicked the door shut behind him, the action silent and swift before he laid you onto his bed.
He stripped you of your shorts and panties, leaving you in only his large, plain shirt. You bit back a moan when his hand went back to your cunt, middle finger pushing into your slick heat.
Mike cursed to himself, dick straining in his pants as he fucked you with his finger, soon adding another, rubbing and pushing into you.
Your body was hot and aching, walls clenching around his digits. You were close, oh so close when he stopped entirely.
“Please,” you nearly cried, pleas silencing when his cock replaced his fingers. The stretch of it both painful and pleasurable.
He hadn’t even bothered taking his jeans off, wanting too badly to feel your warm, wet pussy around him.
He moaned into your shoulder, “So, so good baby.”
His thrusts were slow but rough, each pushing you further into the mattress as he intertwined his hands with yours.
It didn’t take long for him to speed up, fucking you just as he’d said he would. You were a flustered mess, holding back moans after each meaningful drive into your cunt.
You squeezed around him, eyes shutting as your hands tightened their grip on his. Your hips moved up into his, needy and wanting.
He leaned down, lips pressing against your ear as soft huffs escaped his mouth, “That’s it princess, want you to cream on my cock.”
His words sent you over the edge, pussy milking him as you came undone. He ground down onto your clit, thrusting into you until he pulled out and shot hot ropes of cum on your stomach.
He let his body engulf you as he rest on top of your smaller form, the weight was comforting.
“Wish I would’ve done that weeks ago,” he mumbled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck.
You yawned, fingers playing with his as a smile crept onto your lips, “Me too..”
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hairmetal666 · 6 months
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Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.
He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab
And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?
There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.
His name is Steve.
And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.
---
They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.
"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.
Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."
"Eddie," he answers by instinct.
"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.
"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.
"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.
"You a fan?"
"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."
People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.
"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"
Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"
"Is that--hard?"
"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"
Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"
Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"
Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."
"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."
---
Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.
Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.
So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."
They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.
He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.
"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.
"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.
"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.
"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"
He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.
"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."
Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.
Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.
"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.
"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"
Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."
Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"
This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.
"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.
"What?"
"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.
He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.
Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.
Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.
"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.
Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."
Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."
He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.
---
Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.
So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.
As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--
He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.
When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.
Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.
Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.
Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.
Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"
"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.
"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"
Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.
The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.
"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"
"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.
Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.
Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.
"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"
"I want--he can't--I--"
Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"
Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.
He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."
"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."
"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.
Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."
Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"
Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."
Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."
"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.
"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."
The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."
Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"
"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."
Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.
"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.
"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."
Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."
"That a promise?"
---
Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.
In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.
Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.
"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.
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temeyes · 8 months
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i,, i don't know what possessed me,,
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caelanglang · 1 year
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Shhhh…. They’re busy recharging and being in love
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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also also!!!!!! peter x clumsy!reader might be the best pairing. because his spidey senses ugh he’s always catching you before you trip. like an arm around your back and then he dips you down to be dramatic and you get all flustered. and!!! if you’re not in arms reach he definitely shoots a web at you to pull you into his chest before you can do any damage. you both have several heart attacks a day because you’re such a klutz.
I am always on the peter x clumsy reader agenda!! they are so special to me!!! also the thing you said about him catching you and dipping you down omg I could die.
fem!reader 0.7k words
You’re still in the process of patching yourself up when Peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big Band-Aids waiting for you on the coffee table. You were hoping to be done by the time he got home, to save him the worry. No such luck. You hear the front door open and you don’t have time to hide your fresh wounds, your evidence of yet another accident.
You’re sure you look quite pathetic when Peter emerges in the doorway.
“Hi, dove! I missed— are you bleeding?” His smile drops and so does his bag. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off. He strides across the room and gets to his knees in front of you. His hands find your thighs, thumbs just shy of your fresh scrapes.
“Oh, honey,” he coos. He’s not shocked, at least. You think maybe it’s happened so many times it doesn’t phase him anyway more.
His eyebrows pinch together as he scowls at your poor knees, his hands squeezing your thighs. He gives your injuries a once over before lifting his head to look at you sadly. “What happened?”
You frown. “Tripped in the driveway,” you admit moodily. “I’m fine, really. Looks worse than it feels.”
Peter huffs morosely, “I wish I was there when it happened. Could’ve caught you, baby.”
You melt. You’re endeared by his care for you. You smile at him and reach out to push his hair from his forehead, his curls soft under your fingers. You drag your hand down the side of his head, fingers heavy, and let your palm rest over his cheek. Peter’s eyelids flutter under your touch.
“It’s okay, Pete,” you tell him brightly. “You can’t win ‘em all.”
Peter laughs, his smile blinding. “Thanks, babe.” He twists his head so he can kiss your palm, a warm press of his soft, wind-bitten lips. “Let’s get you patched up now, hm?”
Peter patches up your knees, hands gentle as he cleans your wounds and presses Band-Aids over them. He’s a practiced hand, having done this plenty of times, on your legs, elbows, fingers, you name it. Though you must admit, you’re far less prone to accidents with Peter around. He catches you more times than he doesn’t. Today was just bad timing.
When Peter’s done fixing you up he lays a kiss on each of your knees, over your fresh white Band-Aids.
“All fixed,” he says happily, sliding his hand up your thigh to give your hip a squeeze.
You beam and cover his hands with yours. “Thanks, Peter.”
Peter stands and pulls you up with him. Your knees sting, but only a little, and it’s nothing you’re not used to.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, head ducked so he can meet your eyes, his hair tumbling into the space between your heads. “I can get you some ice, if you like?”
You shake your head. You’d much rather have him stay this close forever. “I’m okay, Pete.”
Peter still looks unconvinced, a frown tugging at his lips. He thinks for a second, then, “Do you want a hug? ‘Cos I know I do.”
You giggle. You’d kill for a hug right now. “Sure.”
You push your arms under his and he circles you in his strong hold, pulling you as close as he can to his chest. He’s careful to avoid your knees bumping his, legs moving so yours are between his. You push your face into his firm chest and breathe him in, his smells, his cologne and the wind on his clothes and that lovely scent he carries around with him everywhere, like old books and coffee shops.
Peter’s face falls into your neck and he sighs, practically melting into you, latching onto you like glue. He’s warm and he’s soft and he’s Peter. The pain in your knees is completely unnoticeable when he’s holding you like this.
“My poor, clumsy girl,” he says eventually, mostly fond, but there’s a whisper of cheek that you don’t miss.
You scowl into his chest. “M’not clumsy,” you whine, though you definitely are and you both know it. “The pavement is uneven.”
Peter pulls back, his big hands on your upper arms. He’s smiling like an idiot. “It is?”
You nod fervently. “Yeah. S’why I tripped.”
Peter nods slowly like you’re telling the truth, like the pavement in the driveway isn’t perfectly even.
“Stupid pavement,” he says.
You giggle and hide your face in his chest again.
-
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xxsabitoxx · 6 months
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On the topic of babies, I feel like we always talk about Sanemi having a child after the corps disbands... but what if he gets you pregnant while still being a hashira? Twenty-one years old, having his first child with you, which by some standards is pretty late in the game. As for corps members, it's pretty early, and honestly a privilege.
Sanemi always kept his relationship with you discrete, not wanting people to view you differently because you were with the terrifying wind pillar. That, and he didn't want people to know he was actually a huge fucking softy. Seeing him walk around with you, supporting you while you waddled because of your pregnant belly would surely ruin the mean and tough aura he oozes when around other hashira.
Sanemi would be so fucking worried about you at every point in time, especially know that you were heavily pregnant and struggling to get out of your own way from time to time. "Listen, it's not easy work carrying your baby." You had said that to him when he was watching you struggle to sit up in bed one morning. To which Sanemi worried even more because he had to leave you alone so often.
When your baby is born, Sanemi takes a leave of absence. Something that shocks the pillars greatly but Kagaya kindly explains that he was "injured" and would need a few months to recover and train in private. Kagaya was the only one in the corps aware of your relationship and now your new baby. You had initially wanted Shinobu to deliver the baby but Sanemi was adamant that she would accidentally slip up and let the other hashira know.
In the end, Sanemi had actually been the one to deliver your child, the local doctor he had sent for did not arrive in time. Sure enough, your baby was impatient just like their papa, determined to enter the world on their own time, nobody else's. It was a beautiful and traumatizing experience at the same time, but Sanemi had been a huge source of comfort and reassurance through all of it.
You gave birth to a healthy and chunky baby, a baby who very quickly became the center of your world. And Sanemi was pretty proud of the fact that he had delivered them himself. You were happy too, knowing their papa was the first to hold them after you had been carrying them for all these months and not some local doctor.
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eloquent-edits · 1 month
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🗡️ Casual kindness to cure the soul
small acts to show that they care 🗡️ fluff prompts
Character A refills character B’s water whenever they get up
B reminds A about taking medication (A often forgets to do that in the midst of strange activities)
A doesn’t think twice to move items out of the way because they know EXACTLY how clumsy B is
A slowly puts a pillow under B’s head so their neck isn’t strained in the morning
A can’t fall asleep without the tv on, but B can only sleep in total darkness, so A makes sure B has a sleep mask any time they stay the night
B makes A a small, discrete item to fidget with when they’re nervous
B keeps an eye out for collectibles that A wants and lets A know where to find them
Knowing A will be in a terribly boring work meeting, B sends A several memes to keep it entertaining
A and C are best friends and B makes sure C is involved in plans too (they don’t want to make C feel left out or like B is taking A away from them)
A reassures B that they don’t have to stay at the party if they don’t want to, the people there will be happy to see them whenever
A brings out a glass of water and a bigger hat for B, who decided the hottest day in the year was the right time to do yard work
B uses their dogs as an excuse to get A out of their house (“Arty is pouting because you’re not here… not for any other reason involving food.”)
B remembers a game that A wanted and buys it for them on their birthday (“I mentioned it once, like four months ago! How on earth did you remember that?”)
A secretly plans a fully customized gift for B with all of B’s friends
A sets a day and time every week to hang out with B, whether it be online or in person
A and B compete to genuinely compliment as many people as they can in a day (including each other)
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