#maybe one of these days I’ll actually get around to drawing him with an actual body
in-my-feels-probably · 2 days ago
hey! thought I'd make a request<3 I was thinking maybe Eddie bringing you to one of his favorite band's concert and talking about how amazing they are; how he wishes to be that famous one day and promises to bring you along with him and all of that. I don't know, just fluffy Eddie <3
it's completely ok if you don't want to write it! thank you
Request: hey! Thought I’d make a request<3 I was thinking maybe Eddie bringing you to one of his favorite band’s concert and talking about how amazing they are: how he wishes to be that famous one day and promises to bring you along with him and all of that. I don’t know, just fluffy Eddie <3 
Hi! So I’m gonna tease Eddie a bit for his music taste in this, he’s got some good picks, but some of it is pretentious dad rock and I think it would be funny to tease him about it. I really leaned into the fluff and got a little carried away, sorry. Also, I wasn't exactly sure which band I should pick or how to write the actual concert part, so I hope it’s ok that I wrote this as the lead up to the show and then immediately after. It’s not Bowie, contrary to what the title alludes to. Also, everybody say thank you to this person for requesting this because it’s adorable and I had to write it immediately and get out of this writing rut I’ve been in. This is the first Stranger Things request I’ve done, so I hope it’s ok and you like it. Enjoy!
(Warnings: cursing, eddie being slightly insecure, let me know if i missed anything)
“Oh, thank god,” Eddie groaned.
He was buzzing as he whipped the van into a parking spot, hastily turning off the ignition and hopping out of the car. He’d already flung your door open and grabbed your hand in his, tugging at your arm just as you had managed to get your seatbelt off. He lugged you along towards the venue, and you were struggling to keep up.
“Slow down, Eddie! We’ve got seats, they’re not going anywhere,” you said, trying to keep up with his pace. 
He glanced back at you and chuckled, slowing down enough for you to catch up. “Sorry, I just don’t want to miss anything. We had to drive all the way to Indianapolis for this, and traffic was a bitch. I just want to get in there already!”
You smirked. “Traffic wouldn’t have been such a bitch if you had gotten around to fixing your signal wire. But go ahead, you can complain. It’s not my fault you don’t carry any tapes in the car. You’re lucky we had my study mix to listen to at all.” 
You made your way into the venue, handing over your tickets to the usher, before being pointed in the direction of your seats. 
“Yes, because Bowie and The Smiths are so riveting, really captured my attention. I don’t know how you don’t fall asleep listening to that shit,” Eddie retorted, keeping you close to him as he pulled you through the crowd, guiding you to your seats.
You rolled your eyes at his pretentiousness, playfully swatting at his arm. “I’m sorry I have taste and you don’t. It’s called range, Eddie. I promise there’s better out there than Metallica.” 
You immediately regretted your statement as heads turned to you in the rows you were passing, glaring at you, like you’d just said the worst thing they could think of. They scoffed at you, a few glancing down at your Bowie shirt and laughing, immediately dismissing your opinion. You curled into yourself, pressing yourself closer to Eddie as you made it to your seats. 
“Tough crowd, huh?” Eddie joked, not thinking very highly of the grown men glaring at a teenage girl, but when he saw your uncomfortable glances around, he slung an arm around your frame, drawing you closer. “Don’t pay attention to them. I happen to like Bowie.”
You pulled your head up from his shoulder, raising a brow. 
“Alright, fine, I don’t, but I see the appeal. He looks cool, though, I’ll give him that. He’s a freak, too, and he’s not sorry about it. That’s pretty metal, right? That’s more than I can say for myself.”
You knew he was joking in an effort to make you feel better, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitch, the slightest of insecurities visible, and you intertwined your fingers with his. 
“You’re not a freak, Eddie. And even if you were, who gives a shit? There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ll proudly wear my Bowie shirt, freak or not, because he’s cool. And I’ll proudly sit here with you and suffer through this concert, even though you slandered my favorite artists.”
His eyes flitted to yours with worry, and you chuckled at him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m kidding! Say whatever you want about my music, it doesn’t bother me. And I’m not suffering, I do actually like Metallica. Even if I didn’t, though, I’d still be here with you. I just like seeing you happy.”
Your heart warmed as Eddie’s face softened, looking at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. He grew quiet, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You sighed, leaning into him as you waited for the show to start. This was one of the first real big shows Eddie had been to, and you were happy you got to be in the moment with him, reaching a hand up to run it through his hair.
“You know,” he started, voice muffled in your neck. “Metallica’s not my favorite either, they’re just the only decent artist that considered stopping within a 100 mile radius of Hawkins, not that I blame them.”
You chuckled, challenging him. “The only decent one? Bowie’s coming in September. I told you that, remember? Oh, that’s right, we’re talking about decent artists, you must’ve missed the memo, then.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you expected him to grab you and try and tickle you for teasing, but he just settled in his seat, securing his arms around you. 
“I know he’s coming, baby. The 16th, right?”
Your cheeks heated, slowly nodding. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. We’ll have to see about going, huh?”
You just nodded, pressing a kiss to the arm wrapped around you. Suddenly, the lights in the venue went out, and Eddie practically squealed, standing up as best he could without throwing you off his lap, so excited he could barely stand still. 
You laughed at his reaction, watching his eyes light up as the band came on stage, starting their set. He looked in awe as the crowd roared, cheering them on. Eddie watched with a small smile on his face, before you slipped your hand in his, finally getting his attention. 
“I know you know the words. Come on, baby, sing!”
Once the show had ended, and you’d finally been able to drag Eddie from his seat and out of the venue, you climbed into the van, settling yourself in for the drive back to Hawkins. 
Eddie cranked the car, buckling his seatbelt, but he didn’t move to put the car in gear. You sat parked in the lot, watching the last stream of cars file out onto the street, leaving a few other parked cars and the van the only vehicles left in the lot. 
“Edds? Love?” You put a hand on his, resting it on the glovebox. “You alright?”
He nodded, dazed. “That was fucking amazing. It was actually insane.”
You laughed, reaching up to tuck the wild hairs that had popped up during the show behind Eddie's ears. He could feel the heat rush to his cheeks, trying to find the words to say to you, but nothing would come out. He just stared at you, bewildered.
“So, I take it you had fun?” You prompted, running a thumb over the back of his hand. 
He nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, baby, I did.”
Good, I’m glad,” you smiled, enjoying the happy glow on his face. He didn’t move to reach the wheel, still staring into your eyes, and you raised a brow. “What is it?”
He let out a breath. “I want to do that. I mean, really do that. Make music for a living, be in some kickass band. Go on tour, see the world. Have thousands of fans every night singing my songs back to me. God, I hope I get to.” 
You smiled at his enthusiasm. “You will, baby. You’re so talented, and I’ve never seen you work at anything as hard as you do your music. You’re so passionate about it, and driven, I’m sure it’ll happen. I believe it. I believe in you.” 
He pursed his lips, his eyes glossing over. He spoke with such unsurety, like he couldn’t believe you had that much faith in him.
You brought a hand up to caress his face, your fingers resting on his cheekbone. “Of course I do, love. I don’t come to all your gigs in sketchy dive bars for nothing. You’re gonna be big one day. Maybe you’ll open up for Bowie. Hell, maybe he’ll be opening up for you. Either way, it gives me an excuse to come see you on tour, make sure you don’t forget about me here. I’ll have to fight off the groupies.”
“I’d never forget about you,” he murmured. “I want you with me.”
You furrowed your brows. “What?”
He intertwined your fingers with his. “The whole way, through the whole thing. I want you there with me. There’s no way I’d leave my girl here all alone when there’s a whole world I could be seeing with her.”
You smiled shyly at him, and he grinned at your reaction. “Fuck the groupies, I’m gonna have my girl with me. You think I’d leave you here without me after sticking by me this long? Hell no, you’re stuck with me babe. Who else am I gonna write songs about?”
You sighed, cupping his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you, Eddie,” you murmured against his lips. 
He smiled. “I love you too, pretty girl.”
He reached over to your tape, popping it into the stereo. ‘Heroes’ by David Bowie came softly streaming out of the speakers, and Eddie grinned, glancing over at your content face. 
“He’s growing on me.”
A/N - Hi, hope you liked this, it was my first time writing for Eddie or Stranger Things. I’m going to try and get back into the requests I have, which are all Marauders era stuff, but I’m using this as my transition out of my writing rut. Let me know what you think!
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bassacaglia · 6 months ago
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It’s not Christmas anymore but I still wanted to draw Taako in festive colors…so
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banditcoyote · 9 months ago
Wrangled and Tangled
Sasuga stood by the sink washing the last of the dishes from tonights meal. She smiled softly to herself as her tail flicked behind her, happy about the sets of cups and plates she had picked out, feeling domesticated and settled looking over the two sets of dishes her and her lover had shared, something about them in the drying rack felt almost romantic to her. But maybe it was just the way the sunset was showing so pink and purple over the water that was making her feel that way, the cool summer breeze blowing in from the open Lanai. She hummed to herself a little as she dried her hand and reached for the first plate, ready to dry them herself, when the dish cloth was plucked out of her hands swiftly.
“Let me take care of that.” Simon said perching himself onto the counter and starting to dry one of their plates.
“All the left overs put away?” she asked leaning against the counters and bringing her wine to her lips.
“Most of them.” he said with a nod. “Except for the second helping I couldn’t resist, which is now residing in my stomach.”  
She laughed lightly, brushing her hair back behind her ear “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She said with a nod, moving to cozy up to him just a little bit, her eyes full of warmth, and maybe a bit of mischief. “Maybe we can enjoy some other things when you’re done putting those dishes away.” She said with a curl to her lips.
Simon returned the smile and took a moment to lean down to kiss her easily, drawing back with a little hum. “I can think of some things for sure.” He added. “But before we get too distracted.” He placed the clean plate down on the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small ring box and placing it on the counter next to her hand. “Happy Anniversary.”
Sasuga froze at the sight of the small velvet box and her large eyes went wide, slowly looking up into Simon’s face, searching for the meaning.
Simon at once realizing what she might have thought smiled and blushed. “I know we’ve talked about it, but this is just a promise ring.”  Sasuga let go of the breath she was holding with some relief. He picked the box up and opened it. “See?” inside was a thing gold band with a small rose quartz crystal cut into the shape of a heart that side horizontal to the finger. He reached for her left hand and slid it on to her ring finger kissing it into place. “I love you Sasuga, I know that this might not be perfect, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.” Sasuga looked to the ring on her finger, feeling tears pull at the corner of her eyes. He hopped down from the counter “Oh no….is it too much? I know we said we weren’t going to do anything, that dinner was enough but-“
She shook her head “Don’t be stupid.” She said choking back her emotions. “I love it. I love you….Thank you.” She looked at the ring again before reaching up to tug on one of his horns pulling him down into a kiss. “Forget the dishes….come on.” She said, her tail already snaking up around his waist to guide him toward their bedroom.
Coyote woke up with a start, staring up into the dark ceiling above him. He contemplated for a moment what that dream could have meant, and his jaw tightened in his face. Did Sasuga sleep with Simon while he was away, it was the only rule he had given. Or maybe that had made the whole thing more enticing for the two of them. Still, why would Sasuga end up with Simon, he had the feeling he was absent, that house not looking familiar to him in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, almost willing it to come back to him, but some of the finer details were already fading from his memory, and all he remembered was the way the pair looked longingly at each other before they kissed. He gave a little growl and pushed himself up quickly to throw on some jeans and a shirt.
“Coyote?” Shishi asked lifting his head from where he was curled up on one of the pillows. “Where are you going?” he asked rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.
“I’m heading back to the Makai” he told Shishi as he pulled his shirt down over his torso.
The imp eyed the view appreciatively before his senses snapped back to him. “Should I be worried?” he asked knowing of Coyote’s sometimes prophetic dreams, and he wondered if he had some type of vision of Sasuga’s fights. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Coyote shook his head. “No. No. It’s nothing like that it’s….” only he wasn’t entirely sure he could begin to really understand it himself. He shook his head “Sasuga’s fine. I just need to see her. I only had that one other show at the end of the week anyway, stay here, I’ll go tell Russell to pack everything up and head on home. You’ll be fine finding a flight right? I mean, stay the night, don’t leave on my account.”
Shishi laughed “Oh it was that kind of dream was it?” he grinned. “Okay, Well, tell her I said hello and get back safely.” He said as he yawned and laid back down to sleep. “I’m sure Kurama and Gatlin will be happy to have me home, if they haven’t torn each other apart yet…”
Coyote slapped on his cowboy hat and grabbed a jacket though he felt his skin burning. “And you remember what we said about this right?” he asked as he headed toward the door.
“My lips are sealed.” Shishi murmured. “Not a word to anyone”
“Especially to Sasuga.” He confirmed hand on the door.
“Especially Sasuga.” Shishi promised “She’d probably be more upset with me than you anyway” and waved him off.
Coyote found himself easily at his ring manager’s trailer, pounding on the door. He felt bad to be waking Russell up like this but he knew he couldn’t just disappear in the middle of the night and leave Shishi to explain for  him, things looked weird enough having him around. Russell answered the door, looking as if he was still blinking back sleep. “Coyote, everything alright?” he asked looking around.
“No…Um no, there was a fire back at the ranch.” He said lying on his feet. Thinking easily of the fire at Thom’s he could use as a cover even if the time line wouldn’t match up. He figured it would never get back to Russell anyways. The manager looked concerned. “It’s nothing big, a small one thank god, no one hurt, but I really should get out there, I know we only have the exhibit at the end of the week so I was just going to head home now. Would that be too much of a pain for ya’ll to handle?”
Russell cleared the sleep from his eyes with his hand “Yeah, yeah I can handle it no problem. Take care, hope it’s as small as you say.” He said and headed back to his bed.
Coyote made one more stop, saying farewell to Poncho in his trailer, before he headed towards the nearest portal in the woods, which was still pretty far, and Coyote had to be careful no one saw him as he slipped into the woods and transformed, having to sprint as fast as he could to reach the portal before daylight. He was glad he had the foresight to try and keep his motorcycle as close to him as possible, as the only other way he could have gotten there was to fly back home and then race to her, and he wasn’t sure he could stand being on a plane the way he was feeling.  All cooped up without being able to run or move, or do anything. It would have been torture, not like the past few weeks hadn’t been. The time away from Sasuga had been harder than he’d like to admit, and he already knew he would never plan on being away from her like this again. All the time away from her he had felt like pulling his skin off. He had helped Thom around her house before he left, and at the rodeo he did more of the manual work than anyone really wanted him to. He ran Poncho as often as he felt he could without causing the poor animal too much strain, and then would run laps as fast as he could as long as he could well into the night. But it was never enough, the women that tried to greet him as soon as he stepped out of the rodeo corral still enticed him to the point he had to nearly run back to his RV. All that hair, perfume, and how the hell where they making such good bras now adays? Though he was sure that some of breasts out there weren’t only held up by a bra but maybe some type of surgery, that didn’t sway him away any. Then the fact that in some of the more populous areas there were actual demon women in the crowds, and those he really had to avoid. He was sure they’d sense something about him, and he was doing his best to be incognito. Luckily his prior years of fooling around with plenty of the women at these things rarely had any of his crew spotting him being social, so now that he was hiding out on his own it went unnoticed. Coyote tried to run himself ragged, exercise, the rodeo, his variety of plants and a few sex toys paired unironically with the body pillow he had snuck on board, none of it had done the exact trick. Which had then led him to call Shishi. It had been a long shot, but it didn’t take much convincing getting him to come out to see him in secret, even if he was a bit miffed at having to mostly stay hidden at the events. Coyote let him have the pass into where the wives or girlfriend’s normally sat, and he posed in his refinery during the events when it fancied him. It had helped tire him out, but he still hadn’t been getting enoug
He thought he could remain out here for the full month, and they had gotten so close, it was almost silly to run now. But after the dream with her and Simon he just couldn’t deny the ache he felt for his mate any longer and he had to find his way back to her. Dawn was just about to break as he reached the portal and he wasted no time heading through it and heading towards where he had hidden his bike. He felt like a dog that had gotten a scent, and he wasn’t going to rest until he got to her. **** Four days later still hours from dawn, Coyote stashed the bike behind the hotel, barely taking care to hide it, and stumbled into the lobby. He had all the faith in the world that Sasuga was still in the tournament, and held the most hope that meant she was still in the hotel room that he had the key stashed for. He limped into the lobby where the clerk paled at the site of him. “Sir….” He said rushing around the desk and towards him. “Do you need a medic?” he asked looking him over.
Coyote didn’t waste the energy to speak to him and only shook his head as he stumbled forward before catching his balance again. He knew what he looked like, but wasn’t stopped as it was clear the clerk in his pristine uniform was afraid to touch him at all.
“Is there someone I can call?” he said walking along side him as Coyote shuffled to the elevator, bracing himself against the lobby wall and causing a smear of blood to press into the wall paper.
Coyote considered it for a moment, but shook his head again. If Sasuga was still in the tournament this late in the game there was a chance she was injured as well, and he wanted her to save her strength for fighting. He’d be okay. He just needed a shower, some stitches, and her.
The clerk did not follow him into the elevator, being the main hotel for the tournament he was surely not the only injured guest they received, and he retreated back to their desk, probably to call for maintenance to clean up whatever other mess Coyote had left behind him. He leaned against the wall as it started it’s ascension toward the upper floors, again leaving a smear of dirt and blood where his shoulder braced himself. A few droplets of blood dripping from somewhere onto the floor. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach it’s destination, the doors pausing once as a couple was about to get on, but after seeing him let him go on without a question. Coyote almost passed out, unsure if it was from blood loss or exhaustion, but the dinging and wooshing of the doors riled him, and he staggered out into the hallway. Knowing he was so close to Sasuga spurred him on, and he was relieved to find that the card key still worked. He let himself into the hotel room, finding it dark and quiet and he did his best to move with stealth into the bathroom. He passed the bed and spotted Sasuga sleeping peacefully by herself, he was grateful for this because with the rage that was still somewhat in his veins if he had found Simon with her he might have taken a regrettable action. In that moment iat took everything in him to not simply cover her with himself, though with how dirty he was he knew it would only concern her more. There was blood in his mouth and under his fingernails, matting his hair down and sticking to his hat. Better to clean himself up first, and he shut the bathroom door behind him before turning on the light.
He did his best not to look at himself in the mirror, but finding it a necessity to assess some of the damage. If he had made it this far like this it couldn’t have been too bad. Still he was in rough shape. Not only was his face cut, bruised, and swollen, but he had also lost enough weight that he appeared gaunt under the torn and dirty clothes he wore. He slowly undressed, assessing each wound, fresh bruises forming on top of old ones, some cuts that were still bleeding every time he moved, gashes that would no doubt need to be closed up. He hissed as some of the clothing stuck to him where blood had dried, let his effects fall to the floor, his gun empty and tucked back in his holster, and stepped into the shower letting the water strike at his feet until it was warm enough to step into. He braced himself against the wall, letting it flow over his hair and down his back, feeling the sense of relief start to fill him as well. He had made it, he was close to resting, and he was close to his mate, that was all he could ask for right now.
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fueledbysano · 27 days ago
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𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. ran haitani
Summary: He was your entire book. You were only a chapter in his. Just when you've moved on to newer things, your history hinders you from a proper closure and reunion with your first love.
ft. ran haitani x f!reader
c/w: angst, no comfort
wc: 1.5k
a/n: belated happy birthday, braid man
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“I won't let me hold you back, [ Y / N ].” You have managed to land a visit with Ran in juvenile.
“It’s just a year of juvie, I can wait for that… maybe, get a job too so then we can have money when we leave for Kyoto.” You insist.
“[ Y / N ], please, don’t waste your time on me.” He shook his head, chained hands locking with yourd. “Go ahead. You’ve always wanted to attend Kyoto University, right? This is your time. I’ll be fine here.” He urged.
“[ Y / N], please?” He was always supportive of your decisions. So far as moving to Kyoto with you and Rindou just so you can attend your dream college.
However, things don't always go as planned when they land in juvie after igniting trouble.
“I’ll follow, right after me and Rindou get out, we’ll follow… and I’ll come find you.” He bids.
“Do you promise?”
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And it’s been a year,
Then five,
Actually, now, exactly a decade.
The first time you stepped on the streets of Kyoto, you could think of nothing in your life but wait for him and reunite.
You wasted endless days and nights, weeks and months simply waiting for him. And it was all for naught.
But your eyes were soon opened from the deep trance and idea of him showing up. you didn't go here to just waste your life, so you built plans of your own without Ran Haitani in the picture.
So then you attended your dream university and now owned a booming fashion boutique.
The day was drawing to a close, and the vast, deep night revealed the starry night landscape. On night trips back to your house like this, the wind was cool against your hair, bringing pleasant time with yourself which felt too good to last.
You headed towards the exclusive bistro you loved dining in, immediately being met by your regular waiter who insisted on taking the coat off your warm body before escorting you onto the lounge. However, you felt like having dinner at home away from the bustling premises to have a moment for yourself after the eventful week you just had.
So instead, you remain seated in the lounge, patiently scrolling through your phone with your complimentary wine in the other hand.
Ten minutes had passed when you started waiting for your order when a toddler walked up to you, staring into your eyes with her large ones. You didn't acknowledge her presence until you felt a pair of pudgy hands tug on your coat, drawing your attention away from your phone screen
You weren't sure what the child wanted, so you gave her a friendly bow before leaning forward to get to her eye level.
“Yes, child? What is it that brings you to me?” You ask politely, and she could only continue to stare up at you with adoration.
“Sweetheart, there you are…” A deep, masculine voice rejoiced down the hall, his tall frame swiftly jogging up to where you sat.
You divert your gaze to the man, assuming he is the child's father based on the violet irises that mirrored hers. They were almost like… Ran’s.
“Papa!” The child chirped as he jumped in the man’s arms. At this point, you have already turned to your side, not realizing that the father and daughter haven't left yet.
You were about to make a phone call, until,
“[ Y / N ]?”
The insides of your chest churned from the distinct mention of your name slipping from his mouth, now piecing the picture together before hesitantly turning back around,
“What…?” You weren't exactly sure what drove you to blurt it out, but once you got a clear view of the man once more, you easily recognized the face you dearly loved at some point in your past.
Ran let out a chuckle, with a tinge of surprise from the unexpected encounter as he held the toddler in her arms.
Besides the living child in his arms, the silver band on his left proved otherwise that Ran Haitani is now indeed a family man.
You've told yourself multiple times that you have moved on from him, yet a wave of pain washed over your body upon confirming your observations.
“[ Y / N ], it’s you,” He spoke up, voice coming to a softer tone.
“Papa, my name is [ Y / N ] too!” The toddler spoke up, making the man tense and cheeks tint with a shade of bright red.
You gasp at the realization, now matching Ran’s startled expression.
“Hello, Ran.” You nod, before shifting your gaze to the side for a moment, questioning how casual you are interacting.
You had no idea how to feel. Your first love had returned, and he appeared to have made significant progress in his life without you.
If he'd arrived a few years earlier, perhaps you wouldn't be so perplexed by your feelings. No questions asked, you would happily welcome him back into your life.
But that isn’t the case now.
“Uh, how are you?” Although it didn’t show, guilt shadowed Ran’s emotions.
When him and Rindou were released from Juvie, he believed it was unfair to barge in your stable life in Kyoto and follow with his plethora of troubles.
So, he made up a life of your own in his head; you had finished business university, got a huge penthouse in the heart of the city, which is always kept clean and reeked the smell of fresh laundry, and that you now have a large business of your own which you’ve always dreamt about.
And most importantly— you’re smiling. You always had your sweet smile when he pictured you.
He didn’t need to call you, because he wanted to keep you that way.
Ran pictured you as happy as he is with his family.
Because it is way better than wondering.
“I’m good… Finished school, and uh, ticked off some goals, I guess.” You nod with a bittersweet chuckle. “You?”
“Uh, you’ve met her.” Ran chuckled, carefully bouncing the toddler in his arms. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” You waved at the child. She resembled Ran so much.
Not long after, a gorgeous, sophisticated woman came in sight and latched onto Ran’s arm, who then placed a kiss on the child’s head.
Of course, Ran would pull any gorgeous women.
“Who’s this, hon?” She asks,
“This is uh—” Ran stammered, thinking twice whether to say your name which inspired the name of their firstborn.
“[ L / N ], an old friend from Tokyo.” You spoke for him, reaching for the woman’s hand for a shake
“Nice to meet you.” She nods, taking the toddler from Ran’s arms. “I’ll get the driver while you talk to your friend,” She excused herself from the two of you. You couldn’t help but look at the kid who peeked over her mother’s shoulders, waving her arms at you with an innocent smile on her face.
“Here you go, Ran.” Without hesitation, you pulled the bracelet from your wrist and wore them over his. Ran's breath caught in his throat, surprised by how you held onto the sentiment all these years.
He never thought he'd get to have his hands on this trinket once again. Although he wanted to feel relieved that his mother's gift was back in his possession, his guilt intensified from how he left you hanging alone in a city you were a foreign to.
“Your order, ma’am,” The waiter came back with your take-out bag, then leaving you and Ran alone once more. “It’s time to go.” You threw him one last glance,
“See you around, Haitani Ran.” You bow, turning your back to his before a tear could dear slip from your eyes.
Ran heavily sighed. With a leap of faith, he urged to jog and catch up to you, encasing your body in his arms from behind.
You took a step back and let the tears fall from his unexpected gesture. You've been anticipating this moment for years, but weren't sure whether you wanted it or not.
“Ran, what are you doing?”
“I missed you so much.” He inhaled, resting his chin on your head.
“I…” You exhaled,
“I missed you too.” As much as you wanted to stay and have a proper conversation with him, your encounter today was enough closure that will put you to peace.
“I don't know what to say, it's… good to see you again.” He says, brushing a rhumb over your arm.
You frowned. With a heavy heart, you push his arms off before wiping your tears away, then turning back him with a smile,
“Take care of your family, Ran.”
You then open the doors before he can catch you once again. Because then this time, you wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes and say goodbye.
There wouldn't be any last words. They would simply stare at each other as the cars and the people rush by. It would be a silent goodbye.
He was her entire book. She was only a chapter in his.
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qingxin-dream · 2 months ago
A Proper Punishment
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a/n | haaa, april fools! get it? bc scaramouche wouldn’t actually fuck me :’) he’d probably just kill me. anyway, this is my first smut writing. like ever. so please take it easy on me lol. happy april everyone! (art credits: u/Cyclic_Abelian on reddit).
warnings | gender neutral pronouns + female-bodied reader, pet names, make-up sex, rough sex, oral (male receiving)/face-fucking, marking, slight degradation, choking, hair pulling, dumbification, overstimulation, orgasm denial, breeding kink, Electro play
genre | smut (18+ only! minors dni!)
word count | 3.1k
pairing | scaramouche x reader
For a man burdened with immortality, the few months tainted by your abrupt absence silently weighed on the Balladeer as if it had been centuries. Not a soul dared to speak your name in the presence of the Sixth Harbinger for fear of his unpredictable wrath. He wouldn't allow it. Invoking your name would be like searing a hot brand directly on his chest, a painful reminder that he was not going to endure this hardship for much longer.
Though the wound was invisible, perhaps if you asked his recruits they would tell you the agony in his dulled midnight-hued irises was too obvious to ignore. The harbinger was not the type to drown himself in his work, but by the Archons had he drove himself mad with every mission. His command was stricter with the lash of his venomous tongue at any perception of protest and camping early for the night was a thing of the past.
When he spared his soldiers a break for the day and retired to his tent to rest, the Balladeer would eventually wake irritably to a pillow soaked with that annoying, salty liquid leaking from his eyes. Grumbling, he'd messily throw the pillow around to its opposite side and curse his weakness for affecting him so. Heart or not—Scaramouche despised the new void devouring him from the inside out.
It is all your fault and he hates you for it.
You had promised to return to him in a couple weeks. You were only visiting your friends in Liyue you had lost contact with for awhile, you said. They were terribly worried about you, you said. Frankly, it was a miracle that you had persuaded him to let you leave his sight in the first place. Now his jaw only tenses at his foolishness. Even with the resources of the Fatui, the Sixth failed to locate you there.
Hell, had you lied about that too? Were you off with someone else in a hidden corner of Teyvat?
The thought sparks an unusual pang of jealousy and betrayal in the brooding puppet. He could feel his entire body freeze up as a million possibilities raced through his mind of what he'd say when he saw you again—what he'd do to you. By the end of it all, he vowed to convince you to never part ways with him again, as if you had a choice anyway. There were indeed punishments for such careless behavior.
Suddenly one of his recruits rush into his tent without warning, immediately drawing the ire of the Balladeer. "Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing? I’ll—”
“My lord, forgive my intrusion, but we found them! (Y/N) is entering the camp as we speak!” the masked soldier bows deeply and prays to Celestia that Scaramouche won’t fry him alive where he stands.
His lips purse cynically, catching himself before making any rash decisions despite his penchant for impulsivity begging otherwise. He couldn’t trust his Fatui recruits with spotting enemy activity a mile away, so how could they have located you?
The poor recruit glances nervously at the harbinger. The Balladeer’s eerie silence is much more intimidating than any of the nasty threats he spewed regularly. Before either could move to speak, the curtain of the tent parts once more.
“I’m back,” you announce, putting on a smile in hopes of quelling the rage that was no doubt bursting the seams of the puppet’s composure. Though you were absent longer than you anticipated, maybe your lover would be more inclined to embrace you happily than rip your limbs off in a blind fury. At least that is your hope with your friendly front.
“Leave,” Scaramouche nearly growls at the recruit, an ominous glimmer in his pupils. If the lowly Fatui soldier had waited a second longer to meet his gaze, he would’ve been privy to the pure, unadulterated expression of murder scribbled on Scaramouche’s face, delicately masked by a thinning thread of restraint. “Now.”
What little hope you had is crushed, a mere child’s fantasy. You expect as much, shoulders slumping in premature defeat. Once the soldier hastily exits the room, you attempt to apologize. “Listen, Scara, I’m so—”
“Sorry? Ha, spare me your pity. You should be on your knees right now begging for forgiveness… No, mercy, because I’m not sure if I have it in me to hear pathetic excuses,” Scaramouche scoffs and glowers at you, intently walking toward you to wrap his cold fingers around your throat. “You have made it clear you don’t know who you belong to, and I’ll have to remind you.”
“Wait, babe,” you tug lightly at his hand on your neck and grip the folds of the dark robe on his chest. You know you fucked up. Your friends had persuaded you to stay longer, and then manipulated you to never return to him. Between who you thought were your friends and the anger you knew was festering within your lover, you had chosen the coward’s path. “You don’t understand—”
“Don’t tell me what I do and do not know. You never sent a single letter. No correspondence. Nothing,” he squeezes your pretty throat dangerously. “You could’ve been dead. At this point, I might kill you myself for abandoning me.”
“I was a fool. My friends weren’t really my friends after all.” you pitifully whine, struggling to catch your breath a little and unable to peel his fingers off of you. “I would never do that to you.”
Leaning into your ear, you could feel the tingle of the harbinger’s hot breath on your sensitive skin, causing an embarrassing rush of blood to your cheeks. A slight shiver made you flinch beneath him, and a malicious smirk pulls at the puppet’s lips. “Good. Then why don’t you show me how much you missed me, (Y/N)? Hm?”
Without hesitating, Scaramouche nibbles on the edge of your ear, releasing your neck to find purchase on your waist instead. You gasp in surprise, clutching his clothes tighter and instinctively pulling him closer. He eagerly returns the favor, roughly pinning you against him and sinking his teeth into the enticing dip between your shoulder and neck. Lost in the inviting scent decorating your collarbone, he mumbles something incoherent that resembled “I’ll fuck the insubordination out of you once and for all.”
You stifle a growing hum of pleasure at the harsh contrast between his gentle sucking and playful marking, wanting to repress the moan caught in your throat. Your knees turn weak at his touch, threatening to collapse beneath you. As much as you are worried and confused about his reaction, any logic went out the window as he shoves you on top of the round table and plants himself between your legs. 
“What was that? I can’t quite hear you,” the harbinger snickers, letting his hands roam to your plush thighs and kissing up your neck to find your lips. His wet tongue demands entrance, though you aren’t in the right state of mind to put up much of a fight anyway—quickly becoming intoxicated by every little ministration he blesses your skin with. Your hands unabashedly dive into his short, violet locks when he holds your lip in his teeth, relishing in how his taste melted in your mouth. “Speak up, darling. Your moans are mine.”
“Don’t deprive me any further,” Scaramouche commands, though you couldn’t help but pick up on the lingering desperation laced in his instructions. He begins helping you remove your top between his insatiable kisses, finally freeing your breasts from their cloth prison only to be greedily captured again in his hands. At first, he greets them with a loving squeeze and massages them rhythmically, appreciating how their shape molded into his palms softly. Then, he trails his mouth away from yours, forging a path of reddened love bites down to your awaiting breasts.
The moment his tongue swirls around the perky bud of your left breast, you could no longer subdue the moans fighting to slip past your lips and whine his name like it was a soft chorus. Like it was the answer to your prayers, a delicate chant of worship over and over. “Fuck,” you exhale breathily as Scaramouche lapped at your nipple and rubbed the other teasingly.
You feel his grin against your breast as he lightly sucks on your sensitive bud, earning a few needy tugs of his hair and more elated whimpers spilling freely from your lips. Not wanting to neglect your other breast that was so eagerly waiting in anticipation, he latches his mouth to it roughly while roaming his hand up your thigh directly to the thin veil of fabric blocking his advances. It is no matter to Scaramouche, who connects his thumb to your clit through your panties, earning a particularly lewd yelp from you. 
“Heh,” he laughs to himself, kissing your bruising love bites up to your neck and finally facing you again. There is a prideful glimmer in his lust-ridden irises as he looks down upon you after removing his hand from your underwear. Everything about his expression screams, ‘That’s right. I own you. You’re mine, and mine alone.’ 
You’re shy under his intimidating gaze, reaching to cover your round breasts until he yanks your wrists away. “Ah, ah, ah. Who said you could hide yourself from me? Come with me.”
“Ah, w-wait!” you exclaim in shock when he drags you off the table and pushes you to the floor littered with pillows and blankets in the corner. On your knees, the moment your lashes reveal the lust in your eyes with a fleeting look upwards to the face of your lover, Scaramouche couldn’t resist the idea of you taking all of him in your pretty mouth like the little whore you are. 
In a swift motion, he uncovers the throbbing heat trapped beneath his robe, springing free and looming over your face like the most decadent prize you had ever seen. You swallow audibly at the challenge his length poses to the limits of your throat, but it’s obvious Scaramouche is not bothered. He is determined for you to envelope all of it in your wet cavern. You’d have to make room. Let him claim every inch as his and nothing less.
“Time for you to atone for your mistakes, darling,” his smooth voice echoes in the dimly lit darkness of the tent, petting your head once before nudging your mouth closer to his tip flushed deep pink. “I’ll make you regret ever leaving me.”
“Y-yes, sir,” you accept, licking the mushroom-shaped tip with the tip of your tongue in a quick stripe. You lower your tongue to the base of his cock, wetting the entire length up to the tip with a messy lick before taking the puffy tip in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around it, you work in a rhythmic back-and-forth motion with one of your hands working at the base in sync, taking in more and more of him with time. 
Scaramouche quickly cracks under your salacious spell, succumbing to the endless waves of hot pleasure coursing through him with every thrust of your mouth on his hard cock. He went into this prepared to punish you properly, yet here he is feverishly moaning and cursing at the ecstatic pressure building inside him. Once you are easily adjusted to taking him fully, he grabs your hair with passionate ardor, forcing you even deeper on his desperate cock. Though you gag at the sudden assault on the back of your throat, he lets you breathe for just a mere second before shoving his entire length in once more. 
“Damn you,” he mutters, watching you struggle in his grasp with a ravenous, wild high written all over his beautiful face and his unkempt locks start to cling to his forehead. “You did this... You did this to me. Fuck, you can take it.”
You are delirious in your own high, faithfully deep-throating his delicious cock as if your life depended on it. Marveling at how the normally rigid, unfeeling Sixth Harbinger is unraveling at an alarming pace, you are ready to taste him pouring his seed down your used throat. At the brink of painting your throat white with his cum, he hastily stops you with a tight squeeze of your hair balled up in his fist. He takes a brief moment to calm himself, panting heavily.
“Not yet,” Scaramouche exhales, guiding you down onto the sheets and hovering over you, twitching cock in hand. He carefully swipes his finger through your delicate folds, surprised at how wet you are for him already. You mewl in response, grinding your hips against the lone finger in excitement. “Mm, all this just for me? It’ll take more than that for me to consider letting you live. You’ll be good for me, right? Hm?”
Despite the sinister tone coating his baritone voice, he makes sure your mind is too clouded with the mesmerizing motion of his fingers on your clit to even babble a response to his bombardment of questions. All you could do is helplessly turn your head away in pleasure and buck your hips into his skilled touch. You spare a glance at him between moans, offering a nod and an earnest plea, “P-please... I n-need it.”
“Need what?” he feigns ignorance, brushing his tip swollen with desire along your pussy. It takes more self-restraint than Scaramouche cares to admit for him to not give in immediately when he felt you so weak and malleable against his cock. He leans over you completely, one hand holding his member to your hole still clenching around nothing and the other pinned against the pillow over your head. “Did you need me this bad when you left me for months? Did you even think of me? You’re gonna have to beg better than that.”
“I-I need you. Only you, please,” you plead, shamelessly trying to grind against him for relief. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t give me that shit, (Y/N). Tell me who you belong to,” Scaramouche presses, indigo irises daring you to dig your grave deeper. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Before you could answer, he leans back to sit up on his knees and you are terrified he is going to leave you to think about your betrayal in a puddle of your own yearning. You instantly reach out to him to prevent him from escaping, but he gives you a knowing smirk as he removes his top instead. Even in the little light of the tent, you can make out the definition of his toned muscles, resisting the urge to run your hands across every nook and crevice. 
“I belong to you, Lord Scaramouche,” you declare softly, eyes marveling at his form and rising to meet his equally breathtaking irises. “I’m yours, and I’ll never act otherwise. Please... f-fuck me?”
“Hm, I’ll consider it,” he teases with a tap of a finger on his chin before crawling over you again and lining himself up with your wet hole. A wicked flash of Electro flickers in his pupils at sight of you practically melting in his grasp as his cock entered you painstakingly slow. One of his fingers grazes the outline of your waist, leaving euphoric sensations of electricity in its wake. Scaramouche himself struggles to maintain his façade once he bottoms out inside you, gripping your hips with both hands. “Don’t leave me ever again. I won’t let you.”
Quickly nodding and humming, you appease the jealousy that had been gnawing away at the harbinger for months. The moment he drags his cock out of you until it was just the tip, you moan and writhe in lustful satisfaction underneath him. Your pussy feels so terribly empty without his cock, but Archons it is so wonderfully ecstatic when Scaramouche fills you back up completely. 
His pace starts to quicken, the tent filled with the erotic mixture of both your moans. He takes your throat in his hand again, a faint spark of Electro dancing around his fingers. Each one of his passionate thrust pushes you further and further to cloud nine, you are seeing stars, utterly incapable of speaking anything that sounds like a sentence. Rather, your mouth was preoccupied moaning and babbling at the feeling of Scaramouche’s cock stretching your walls nicely. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls at the sound of your pussy greeting his cock with such loud, lewd noises. His violet-colored hair clings to the light film of sweat beginning to form on his face, but he pays it no mind. Scaramouche holds your neck tighter, upping the voltage of his powers, committing every inch of your insides to memory—what makes you moan, what makes you squirm, what makes you fuck harder against him begging for more. Between moans and thrusts, he continues, “You... you’re lucky I’m fucking you like this. I... I don’t give second chances.”
“Mhmm,” you nod frantically, drinking in his hot breaths and the way his cock kissed the deepest part of your pussy with ease. He pins your legs to your chest with both of his hands greedily chasing the heavenly high building up within, just out of reach. You hold onto one of your thighs as he met your clit again, eager to make you scream. “Scara, fuck, ‘s so good! I… I’m gonna cum.”
“Not until I say,” Scaramouche orders, attempting to maintain a steady pace while you were mumbling to yourself over and over about orgasming all over his thick cock with tears pricking at your lovely eyes. “Almost there. Wanna breed you... I’ll fill you so fucking full I swear.”
“Yes, s-sir,” you bit your lip. Suddenly you feel a peculiar pulse of Electro on your clit with every slap of his skin against you as he returns his attention to the mating press he has you in. The faint, fleeting shock sends waves of pleasure through you as Scaramouche’s thrusts grow faster and messier. Your pussy is undoubtedly bruised from the relentless motion of his cock seeking to make his mark on you, but you are much too intoxicated by the hot sensation. “P-please cum in me. Need it bad.”
Gripping your thighs tightly, he couldn’t muster a word as he finally lets you have your orgasm and shoots his warm seed into your depths. It is so powerful as you come down from your high that you notice your legs twitch and shake from abuse. Scaramouche keeps his cock in you, wanting to bury his cum in your pussy. He runs a free hand through his hair, the wet strands causing his hair to slick back against his head. 
A strangely gentle expression graces his perfect features, holding your jaw delicately between his index and thumb, whispering to you in the darkness, “I love you, so don’t leave me ever again, (Y/N). Or I might actually have to kill you.”
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thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist
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sukirichi · a year ago
black magic [01]
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REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)
CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol
NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!
part one | part two (nsfw)
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“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.
“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”
“You sound like you care.”
“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”
You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.
It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.
You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.
Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”
“I wasn’t in love with you then.”
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 “I refuse to be married to you!”
Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?
Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.
Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.
Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.
“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”
“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”
Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”
“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”
“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.
You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.
Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.
So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”
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You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.
Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”
“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.
You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.
“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”
“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”
Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”
“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”
“I hate you!”
Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.
“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.
“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”
“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”
“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”
“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”
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There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.
You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.
You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.
Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”
You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”
“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”
“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”
“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”
“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.
Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”
If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.
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pepperonidk · a month ago
Moon River || j.w.w.
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader
Summary:  Soulmates can communicate with each other through journals. When one writes or draws in theirs it shows up in the other’s.
Warnings: absolutely none, it’s PURE FLUFF. so sweet you’ll get cavities ;)
Word Count: 1020
A/N: This is one of the first things I had written soo be gentle with this lmao. Very cozy rainy day vibes, grab a warm beverage, put on some good music, and a fuzzy blanket. (btw this is posted on my marvel blog @capwogers)
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Hey soulmate, it’s me again. Today was a great day, even though it was storming all day. I actually really like stormy weather. Do you? I spent all day in bed and finished reading that book I got last week. I wonder what I should read next. Any recommendations?
xx Stardust
The curly loops and feather-light strokes of her handwriting filled the lines of his journal, as Wonwoo read his soulmate’s entry. Her handwriting had become more than familiar to him. He had seen it develop from the sloppy and shaky scrawls from when they were in kindergarten to the neat and compact letters on the page now. Wonwoo couldn’t help but question the whole soulmate thing. How could you possibly know so much about someone without even knowing something basic like their name? It’s a cruel joke, Wonwoo decided. He and his soulmate had tried before, but their names would not show up on the paper, leaving them to create code names for each other.
 But names weren’t the only thing missing. Wonwoo wondered if his soulmate lived near him. He looked out the window and saw the overcast sky, full of dark clouds. If she lived nearby maybe it was possible he’d seen her before. He tried to imagine what she might look like, the slope of her nose, the curves of her lips, the hybrid of colors in her eyes, all the details that could never be described properly with words. Wonwoo was a hopeless romantic and couldn’t help it when his heart sank at the realization that he just doesn’t know. He had always wanted to draw her, and every time he tried to do so in the journal, she would tell him that his sketch was lovely, but he knew he wasn’t drawing her.
Darling, I wonder a lot about where you are. It’s storming here too, so maybe you’re not that far away. I guess I do like stormy weather too, the thunder is oddly relaxing. And you finished it already? You definitely deserve an award, that dedication is unbeatable. As for recommendations, I hear Kafka’s got some interesting work, depending on how you feel about bugs. Today was kind of rough for me, but it’s alright. I’ll take it easy tonight.
Talk soon, Moon River
Wonwoo filled in the next few lines after hers, and signed his code name in his extravagant cursive. Both of their nicknames were references to their favorite songs. Wonwoo had an old soul, and it was evident in his taste in music. He would often let her know when he had found a new old song for her to listen to. Although her taste in music was a lot more current, she always enjoyed hearing Wonwoo's music as she felt it brought her a lot closer to him. 
Shutting the cover of his journal, Wonwoo thought about his plans for the rest of the evening. It had been a particularly stressful day at practice, as it always was when the boys disagreed on anything, and he really did not want to sit alone with his thoughts in his apartment. So he grabbed his umbrella and his journal and made his way to his favorite cafe. The rain had lightened up outside, slowing down to a light drizzle and made his walk down the few blocks all the more peaceful. He took in his surroundings, trying to memorize the details of the signs of life around him so he could draw it all out on paper.
Now inside the cafe, Wonwoo was relieved to see that it was not so full. He didn’t want to be alone in his apartment, but he also didn’t want to be alone in a room saturated with people. He ordered his coffee and sat down at a table by the window. Outside he had a clear view of the small bookstore across the street and people scurrying as the rain started coming down stronger. He pulled out his journal and began to draw underneath his entry a sketch of the scene outside. With his headphones in, Wonwoo didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed his soulmate had written underneath his drawing.
You’re missing something.
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at the writing, and directed his confusion at his drawing. What was he missing? He turned his head to look back at the bookstore. There were the shelves of books, somehow still dry under the awning, which was a shade of green darker in some spots because of the rain, the paintings of white daisies on the window, almost faded out now, and the bench in front of it where a girl sat with a book in front of her. Had she been there this whole time? How did he forget to include her?
Directing his attention back to the sketch, he began to draw her in, not bothering to look back up in fear she might notice him staring at her. Her figure quickly came into being on his replica of the flower shop when he noticed another line of writing appear on the lines.
Those are hearts on the rain boots, not polka dots.
Confident that he saw polka dots, he looked up just in time for him to make eye contact with the girl on the bench. His first thought was simply that she was pretty. His second thought was one of panic and fear that she might think he was creepy for staring at her. His third thought was when he put two and two together and realized he was staring at her. At that point he stopped thinking, dropped his pencil and ran out of the cafe.
 Wonwoo practically ran to her, but came to an abrupt stop a few feet in front of her. She stood up from her seat in the bench and smiled at the incredulous expression etched on Wonwoo's face. “It’s about damn time,” she laughed.
Still shocked, it took Wonwoo a few seconds before he finally replied, “I’m Wonwoo,” he stuttered out breathlessly. “And you’re my soulmate.”
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imagineimpact · 9 months ago
Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya
I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.
Harsh Words
Diluc x Reader
Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.
And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.
It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.
But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.
All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.
“If you just thought about your actions for once-”
You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”
“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”
His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.
You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.
You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.
You can’t take this anymore.
But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.
The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.
“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.
“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”
“Not even slightly.”
Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.
“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”
“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.
Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.
Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.
A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.
Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.
“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.
When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”
“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.
The argument was done.
Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.
What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.
Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.
When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.
Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.
If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.
So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.
Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.
You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.
“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”
Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”
Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”
“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.
Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.
You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.
The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.
“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.
“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.
“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”
You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”
Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.
The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.
The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.
Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.
“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.
Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.
Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.
“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.
Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.
You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.
“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.
“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?
“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”
“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.
“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.
“Get your hands off of-“
“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.
Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.
It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.
As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?
Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.
Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”
“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.
“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.
“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”
“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”
“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”
Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.
Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”
“Get out of my sight.”
The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.
Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.
“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.
“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”
“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.
He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”
You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”
Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”
“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.
Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”
“Not happening.”
“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”
“Their safety is more than enough concern.”
“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.
Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.
Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.
“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“
“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”
“I’m not going to remember-“
“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”
“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”
Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.
Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.
“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”
“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”
“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”
“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”
“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”
Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”
You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.
He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.
You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.
Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?
“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.
You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.
(Part 2 here)
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taegularities · 4 months ago
hiiiiii i need to! (you sent me here) hi, can i get a drabble for soaring high?? the only request i have is that they're in the same room together. post coital? pre? during? i don't care... i just need them.
thank you!
luv u
<3 harrow
hehe anything for you, my love !! @sugalaritae AHH ALSO, writing this made me so nostalgic for them. and he's so sexy. so thank you !! <3 –– can be read as a stand-alone!
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pairing: Taehyung x reader fic: soaring high wc: 1.2k (oh wow) warnings: smut – rough sex, some degradation, dirty talk, finger sucking, dom!tae, big dick!tae, biting, praising... usual stuff, squirting, fingering, cum eating i guess, unprotected sex, they're actually so cute too, aftercare, feelings? maybe. and. yeah.
Taehyung gave you one single rule, and to his pleasure, you keep breaking it.
As the curve of his cock penetrates your dripping walls with the familiar force for the umpteenth time, you nearly yell his name into the room. The hand pushing you face-down on his couch vanishes, the hammering of his hips growing more merciless than before.
It’s as though he wants you to scream, so he can punish you accordingly.
The large palm settles over your mouth, pressing into your face as he leans in and whispers, “Shh… I told you Jae’s sleeping… and what I’ll do… should he wake up because of you.”
You remember what he said.
A shudder takes over your body, and you dig your fingers into the material of his couch further. When he continues his journey, your eyes roll back in their sockets, your moans muffled and your body burning from his utterly merciless thrusts.
It’s safe to say that Taehyung has become comfortable with you since he first met you on a plane weeks ago. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again; much less, that you’d find yourself kneeling on his carpet, your knees bruising, because he was too impatient to even get you on his sofa.
The fling crowning you a member of the mile high club has long advanced to a silent affair – and here you are now, bent over his furniture, a drop of sweat trailing down your face as you let him wreck you inside out.
“Pretty little slut for me, aren’t you?” he whispers, snapping his hips against yours nearly aggressively.
With whatever strength you’ve left, you nod, tears blurring your vision before you squint and let them escape slowly, one by one. Taehyung watches your dark make-up taint your cheek, black tears colouring his nimble, long fingers that still press into your face.
He loosens his grip around your cheeks, pushing your torso into the couch further as his fingers sneak their way to your aching clit and draw torturously slow circles around it. You attempt to press your legs together, but his thighs split you apart, his cock spearing your poor battered pussy.
The sensation is too much; too mind-numbing. You want to scream, want to call his name, let him pin your arms behind your back and fuck you dumb and stupid all night. But forced to keep the silence in his house, you remain as quiet as you can, losing your mind when he presses his chest against your back and states, “This must be my favourite pussy ever. I fucking swear.”
His praises never fail to fog your mind enough for you to forget your name; but despite the haziness, you still part your lips, somehow managing to utter, “‘M gonna come… more, please–”
“More, baby?”
“Please, Tae, I can’t stay qui– god, god, fuck.”
“One day,” he begins, massaging your clit harder, watching you come undone, “Jae will be… with Jimin and… I’ll make sure you can’t walk after I’m done with you, shit.”
You can barely imagine a behaviour more demonic than this, but you can’t deny that the idea lights your nerves on fire immediately. His effect on you might never falter; and if you told him, he’d never let you crawl out of his bed ever again.
Biting your lower lip, you let go finally, soaking his cock in a generous amount of your juices; you can’t see him, but you’re certain the sight must be driving him insane.
Taehyung lets out a breathy chuckle, fucking you through your orgasm, pushing your high back into your cunt as he feels your walls clench and pulsate around him. The upper half of your body sinks into the couch some more, your knees nearly buckling before he grips your hips tight.
It takes mere seconds until his movements stutter, too, and he bites into your shoulder hard, immediately trying to soothe the sting to suppress your whimper. And when he spills inside you eventually, lewd curses fall from his mouth, his body falling lazily onto yours as you hear him whisper, “Fuck… really don’t wanna fill any other cunt anymore. Princess takes me so well every single time, doesn’t she?
“You’re a demon.”
“Sorry,” he apologises, clear mock and ingenuity in his words, “I’ll be more gentle next time.”
“No, you won’t be.” Your fingers shift on the couch, tapping blindly until you reach his hands and place your palm on his wrist. “And I don’t want you to be.”
“Thought so.”
Taehyung pulls out of you without a warning, and the emptiness he leaves you with feels unfamiliar, cold. You don’t realise how wound he’s fucked you until he slides two fingers inside your cunt, toying with your nerves before he brings his digits to your mouth and says, “You’ll keep the rest inside for now, yeah?”
You nod, obliging to his silent request to open your mouth as you lick his fingers clean of your mixed orgasms. Patting your ass, he declares once more, “good girl,” before pulling you to your feet carefully.
With your eyes drooping and your body aching, you let him guide you to god knows where, your brain and limbs so exhausted that you don’t notice where you are until you hear the sudden, pleasant sound of running water. Your eyelids flutter open fully when he places his hands on your cheeks, lips touching yours for a moment before he asks, “All good, baby?”
“Mmmhm,” you mumble, chasing his mouth some more, hands wandering to his bare chest.
“Are you still with me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, ��m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Taehyung’s deep, reassuring voice whispers, taking your hand in his before he steps into the bathtub with you. He settles behind you, arms wrapping around your body as he kisses your hair and adds, “We’ll go to bed soon, okay? You deserve some rest.”
“Thank you… you monster.”
“Hey now,” Taehyung says, his laugh vibrating against your back as he grabs a shampoo bottle, “don’t act like you don’t like it.”
You move your head sideways, staring at his sharp features and flawless profile as you admit, “I love it. You’re insane, but so fucking hot.”
“Says you, gorgeous lady.”
He massages the shampoo into your hair and washes it off, cleaning your body carefully and gently; his touch builds a stark contrast to what he did to you in his living room. Soothing, comforting, fond.
As he plants occasional kisses on your shoulder and neck, you nearly fall into a slumber. He wipes your face clean, getting rid of any remnants of your smudged make-up before he informs you, “All done. Let’s get you to bed now, yeah?”
You yawn as he helps you get dressed, your fingers combing through your wet hair before you walk to his bedroom, your hand holding his and pulling him forward from behind you quietly. Taehyung doesn’t know what it is about you that draws him in every single time. What it is that makes him want to come back to you every day.
But when you cuddle into him in bed, pulling the blanket to your chin, he doesn’t bother figuring out what you ignite in him. Instead, he wishes you a good night, rubbing smooth circles on your back before he hugs you close and falls asleep with a smile plastered on his face.
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jobean12-blog · 4 months ago
Fashion Show
Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader
Word Count: 807
Summary: It’s time to clean out your closet and Bucky wants to help. 
Author’s Note: This is for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ Candy Hearts Club Event and Day 1 (2/12): Cutie pie, I do, Wise up, UR hot. I didn’t use the actual converstation hearts here but I based it more off what they say! Hope you enjoy! Thank you so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @skylightlantern​ thank you sweets 🥰
Warnings: fun fluff, sweetness and a hint of spice :) 
Gif NOT MINE: Credit to @heartfulloffandoms  
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Your hands land on your hips and you stare him down.
“What doll face? You look hot!”
“You can’t say I look hot in every single thing I try on. How am I going to clean out my closet if I keep EVERYTHING!?”
“It’s not my fault you look amazing in all this stuff,” he croons, wiggling around his ‘yes’ sign.
With a huff and take off the shirt and skirt you were wearing, throwing them at his head and giggling when they all slide off and leave his hair sticking to his face and full of static.
“You think this is funny?” he asks, blowing a strand of hair out of the way. “How am I going to help you if I can’t see!”
You grab a shirt from the floor and chuck it his way before skipping over to the bed and climbing up behind him. Combing through his hair with your fingers, you tame the long strands and then pull them back, securing them with your hair tie.
“Better?” you ask when you lean over his shoulder.
“Much,” he murmurs, kissing your lips then grabbing your wrist and dragging you into his lap.
You land with a squeal and push on his chest. He circles his arms around you, stopping any chance of escape. His lips meet the soft skin below your ear and you hum out a moan.
“We’re not even halfway done,” you admonish. “At this rate, I’ll never finish!”
“Not my fault,” he simpers. “You’re the one strutting around in your underwear and wearing all this sexy stuff.”
You hold up your finger and try to wiggle out of his grasp.
“I have something that I bet you won’t find sexy! Let me check if I still have it,” you wink.
“Fine doll. But I’m not making any promises.”
He grudgingly lets you go and you saunter into the closet.
“Oh my god I found it!” you shriek. “Wait until you see this one Buck.”
You walk out in your Spider-Man onesie, spinning around and grinning. Bucky’s eyes narrow as he looks you over.
“I bought this before we met,” you tell him. “I used it for a Halloween costume one year.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he grabs his ‘yes, no and maybe’ signs. He holds up the ‘NO’ sign and calls you over with the crook of his finger.
“I knew it would be a no but I thought you would at least think it was funny,” you pout.
He runs his large hands over your curves before his fingers find the top button of the onesie.
“You,” he starts, “somehow still look super cute in this but I want to burn it.”
“But, but what if I want to use it again,” you counter.
He pops open the first button. “We’re getting rid of it.”
The second and third buttons open and he slips his fingers inside the material, teasing your skin.
“This better not be the only thing you say no to…I have a lot of questionable clothing in there.”
“Uh huh,” he mumbles, continuing to work open the buttons. “You look hot in everything.”
“Even this?” you sass.
His eyes say it all and you clamp your mouth shut.
Once they are all unbuttoned he pushes aside the plush fabric, exposing your skin. He slides it from your shoulder and pulls it off your arm, following suit with the other arm. It drops to your feet and you step out of it.
He draws you between his spread thighs, dipping his finger into your underwear.
“Time for a break,” he murmurs.
You grab his wrist, stopping his hand from moving down anymore.
“First,” you grin deviously. “You have to try it on!”
“It’ll never fit,” he scoffs, brushing your hand away.
“Pleaseeeeee Buck. For me.”
You widen your eyes and stick out your bottom lip.
“You’re gonna make me put this on aren’t you baby doll?”
You nod vigorously and start to clap when he reaches down to grab the onesie.
“Never gonna fiiittt,” he sings.
He steps his left foot into it and pushes it through then the right.
“So far so good,” you giggle.
He pulls it up and it barely makes it past his knees, catching on his thick thighs.
“Told ya doll,” he chuckles.
“Well can’t you just try to tug it up, it has some stretch!”
With a strong pull he yanks it up and the fabric rips. He falls back onto the bed with laughter.
You crawl over him and straddle his lap. “Guess it doesn’t fit,” you say sheepishly.
He opens his mouth to say, “told ya so,” but you press your finger to his lips. “I know, I know Buck.”
“Well at least you have one thing in the throw away pile,” he snickers.
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clanwarrior-tumbly · a month ago
Can you do Illinois x reader where the reader sacrifices themselves for him somehow through a trap with water or something, and stops breathing. Illinois absolutely loses his shit and keeps trying to resuscitate them, and just when he’s about to fall into despair, a breath comes from the reader, and Illinois just shatters, and collapses against them, sobbing into their chest. Illinois then kisses them and confesses feelings.
"Man, we actually gotta go underwater for this?”
“It appears so.” Illinois looked down into the entry point. 
The pool of water appeared awfully dark and murky, but then again you can’t always expect crystal-clear blue water in an underground lake.
“This is the final test. A “test of sacrifice”...I’m pretty sure it means oxygen.”
“I hope so. Looks like we just gotta swim through a small maze to reach the lever at the bottom.” You traced the symbols on the rocky walls, brushing your hand to clear the dirt. “Then these walls in front of us should open to reveal the treasure room....there’s just one problem.”
“And what would that be, partner?” He raised an eyebrow.
“It says only one person can go...or else some ancient sensors will go off and unleash a barrage of piranhas.” A hidden drawing revealed two stick figures getting torn up by a bunch of fish, red paint splattered around it.
You had no idea how the trap could tell, but you didn’t wanna take any chances.
Hearing Illinois sigh, you turned back around to see him remove his hat and bag, handing both over to you. “Well at least one of us can keep our stuff dry. Now you just stand there and look pretty and/or handsome while I-”
"I’ll go.”
He blinked in surprise. “Really? You volunteer this time? I’m flattered.”
“Hey, it’s only fair I try this one. I’m not the best swimmer, but I could definitely cool down a little.”
The adventurer smiled warmly, amused by your quips. That’s what he liked about you--how you were just so calm and eager to explore the caverns despite the many dangers you both ran into. Your greatest strength was staying levelheaded. It was his, too. 
Though something in the back of his mind told him that letting you go ahead was a bad idea.
But if he were to stop you and insist he went, then it would seem like he was getting attached to you. He didn’t want that.
Oh no.
Part of the “job” came with keeping his emotions at a distance. He might’ve felt something for you back in the other cavern where you first met, and a lot of those feelings may still linger to this day...yet he told himself (and you numerous times) that he has no plans to fall in love.
Besides, you’ve made some good choices that saved you both from serious peril. So why should he worry? If you wanted to dive in instead of him, maybe that’s the best path forward.
You removed your own bag, passing it to him. “Now you just stand there and look pretty, alright?”
“With pleasure.” He winked, taking your bag before he watched you make your way back to the pool. “Be careful.”
“Always.” Taking a deep breath, you dove in and disappeared from sight.
Illinois just waited...and waited...and waited...and waited...
He tapped his foot, adjusted his hat, and checked the bags at least a dozen times--if not more. 
Yet nothing happened to the walls in front of him.
You were taking an awfully long time, and he had doubts that an ancient water trap like this would have air pockets anywhere. 
But you sounded so confident in your decision. If you thought you could handle this, surely you would’ve reached the lever by now, right?
Suddenly he began to wonder if he should’ve spoken up, growing more anxious with every passing second as he stared at the pool. He wanted to jump in after you, but knew that would only get you two killed.
Though what if you couldn’t find your way?
What if you ended up like-
He didn’t get to finish the thought, as there was a brief rumble before the walls finally split open, revealing the rest of the lake and a small bridge leading to a beautiful golden archway.
The treasure room.
"My god..so it was real, after all.” He chuckled to himself, taking a few steps forward onto the bridge. “[Y/n], you-”
But he froze, his smile fading as he realized something that made his heart plummet: 
You were still underwater.
Dropping the bags and his hat, he immediately dove into the lake. It didn’t take long for him to find you, but much to his horror..he found you unconscious, just floating lifelessly.
And that’s the moment he knew what the “Test of Sacrifice” really meant.
‘No, no, no..not another one, please!!!’
Frantically he pulled you to the surface, laying you flat on your back as he began to resuscitate you. 
In all his years of losing associates, he’s never actually had the chance to save one. They were either lost forever or died instantly, with him being powerless to help. It was like a goddamn curse that followed him for eternity.
But he could save you. He had a chance.
However you remained motionless and unresponsive despite all his efforts. ‘Please, whatever higher god’s out there...give me a break..just this once.’ He begged, yet his silent prayers were left unanswered.
After a few minutes he slowly took his hands away, feeling himself getting choked up as he stared down at you, thinking he was too late.
God, why did this keep happening to him? 
Why did he put himself through this?
So much heartache and despair--things he swore he’ll never endure again for as long as he lived--was tearing him apart inside. And he wanted it out.
He wanted to scream until his lungs hurt, punch the ground until he bled and broke every bone in his hand...anything to numb the emotional pain.
The pain of being unable to love anyone because they get taken away from him eventually.
This whole time he was lying to himself and you. He hated it. He hated every stupid joke or pickup line he threw your way to distract himself from his own feelings. His true feelings.
He loved you so much. But now he’ll never get the chance to-
All of the sudden, you sprung back to life with a gasp and a series of coughs, turning your head briefly as more water spilled out. You couldn’t form words, trying to focus on not choking.
The whole time, Illinois was shocked..and beyond relieved.
He did it. You were alive!
He didn’t have to leave you or build any makeshift graves.
Once you recuperated, you looked to see a teary-eyed Illinois hovering over you, not fully registering how absolutely shattered he was right now. You smiled weakly as he wordlessly helped you sit up.
“Well..that was-”
Hearing your voice finally broke him. 
He collapsed into your arms, shaking as he buried his face into your chest, unable to hold back the storm of emotions that were swelling inside of him. 
At first you didn’t even know he was crying and thought he was just hugging you, though as you held him close, you could start to hear quiet muffled sobbing and “I thought you were gone” over and over again. Like a broken record.
You were in disbelief that Illinois--the man who constantly brushed off people’s deaths like it was nothing--was sobbing so much over almost losing you.
This entire time, you thought you were just..like the rest of them. A friend. A mere acquaintance, with him joking that you shouldn’t be clinging to him so much.
Now, though? He was a total mess, clinging to you for dear life.
You’d tease him for his hypocrisy, but of course..this wasn’t the appropriate moment. So you kept holding him, rubbing his back gently so he knew you were still here.
Neither of you knew how long you stayed like this, though you gave him all the time he needed to calm down. And soon his sobs did subside, but he was still holding onto you, nuzzling your chest as he quietly sniffled.
At this point you were a bit flustered. “You okay, Illy?”
“..y-yeah..” He mumbled, sitting up and gazing at you with puffy, exhausted eyes. “[Y/n], you....”
Yet he trailed off and looked down at his lap, wondering what excuse he could give this time. You probably thought he was sending mixed signals about his feelings towards you.
But he didn’t want to do that anymore.
He wanted you to know the truth, before he goes back to being the flirtatious Illinois who’s scared to fall in love.
You heard him mutter something like “ah screw it” before he suddenly leaned forward to...kiss you?
This took you by complete surprise as he pulled away seconds later, flushed by his impulse actions. He never thought he could make the first move himself, though he looked into your eyes again, hands reaching for yours.
“I’m a..terrible liar, [y/n]. I-I’m the one who’s afraid to fall in love. I thought could just shake those feelings off after our first meeting but...they stayed. They always stayed. A-And..when you sacrificed yourself for me, I realized how...truly important you are to me..to my life. I’d miss you and your smile and...I...” He sighed, annoyed with himself. “Wh-What I’m trying to say is....I....I lo...goddamn it, this is hard..”
“Don’t worry, I know.”
You cupped the side of his face, gently raising his head up to meet yours. He blinked with astonishment as you drew him into the kiss this time--a longer and tender one. Just in case he had any remaining doubts about himself or you.
After pulling away for the second time, Illinois felt his heart throbbing with so much love. “Since when did you become such a good kisser?” He chuckled.
“Since right now.”
All he did was laugh softly as he brought you closer, not shying away from being affectionate as he rested his forehead against yours.
The treasure could wait.
You were the most precious thing to him right now.
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lokislastlove · 5 months ago
Discipline or Regret (Dark!Thor x Reader)
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Summary: You attract the attention of one very determined football player.
Warnings: Dubcon, Dom Thor, bondage, smut, daddy kink 😬
Note: This was supposed to be a drabble!!! @queenoftheworldisdead is to blame for this filth. I hope it satisfies your Thor thirst a bit… I’d certainly let him satisfy mine. My first time really going in on the daddy thing. 😬 hope I didn’t ruin it. 💕
Months of overtime and busting your ass and what did it get you? Well, you had hoped it would get you a promotion, a raise, or hell even just a nice bonus. Instead your boss gifts you with a envelope and two tickets to an Avengers game tomorrow.
You hated football, and how the hell are you going to find someone to go with you with less than 24 hours notice?
Your boss could afford pricey front row season tickets for himself - though he hardly ever goes, always complaining about the cold weather – but can’t afford to give you a modest bonus? Such an asshole.
“He actually gave you a bonus?” Lindsey, the bosses secretary, asks in awe as she eyes the envelope in your hands. “Not that you don’t deserve it, because of course you do! I’ve just never seen him do that for anyone.”
“Oh yeah, a super amazing bonus,” you scoff sardonically, tossing the tickets on her desk.
She opens the envelope and grimaces, “ugh and everyone knows you hate football.”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Maybe I can try to sell them last minute?”
A smile grows on her face and she bats her lashes sweetly, “or… I could pay you for one of the seats and you can go with me! It’s a win/win! You get some cash and an awesome girl date with your office bestie and I get to ogle Bucky Barnes ass up close in person!”
You laugh and consider her offer, still a bit hesitant, “eh – I don’t know.”
“I’ll buy all the drinks! We can just chat and yell at all the hot guys! Maybe flirt a bit? Seriously, this is the ultimate sausage fest. Come on, I promise it will be fun!”
It’s been a while since you’ve done anything on your weekends besides shop for groceries and binge Netflix, so you agree and arrange to carpool the next day.
“Here they come!” Lindsey squeals as the home team comes jogging onto the field.
Her excitement is contagious and you find yourself cheering along, or it could be the cocktails kicking in.
“Nice ass number 55!” Your friend screams without shame, waving and laughing loudly when the player turns to look at her with a smirk.
You stifle your giggles and slap her arm, “oh my god. You’re cat calling now?”
“What? They love it. Watch…” she turns away from you with a wicked grin and searches the sideline for a player close enough to hear her.
You try to tug on her shirt, “no no. Shhh. Don’t, Lindsey”
“Hey! Thor! My friend thinks your hot!” she yells drunkenly, making the people around you whoop and laugh.
You laugh and roll your eyes, shaking your head at her antics until you see an absolute beast of a man turn and fix his attention on Lindsey. He is massive, bulging biceps flexing beneath the tight jersey and pads. His shirt rides up, showing off his ripped core and defined pelvic muscles that draw your eye to his crotch no matter how hard you try to resist. You gulp as he removes his helmet and brushes back his long blond locks, revealing the amused smirk adorning his smooth square jaw.
His attention shifts from her to you, and you feel your face burn with embarrassment as he bites his lip and gives you ‘the nod’, the one cocky men give when they see something they’d like to fuck. He wiggles his fingers at you when you stare back at him in horror, too shocked to think, let alone return any sign of recognition.
He chuckles and taps the shoulder of the player next to him, whispering something in his ear before pointing at you. The other player turns to peek over his shoulder at you, his long black hair masking most of his face, but you see him laugh and shake his head good-naturedly before turning back to watch the field. Thor however let’s his eyes cling to you until you sink so low in your chair you are practically laying in it, using your hands to hide your face.
“Oh my god, now he’s staring at us,” you hiss as your friend continues to wave and try to get him to come over to her.
“She’s single!” You hear Lindsey yell across the field, a few laughs erupting around you.
You swat at her leg as she leans over the metal barrier, trying to get her to stop, “Lindsey!”
“She’s a little shy, but she really wants to see your huge di-” She giggles as you pull her back into her chair and slap your hand over her mouth.
“Hey, what the fuck. I did not agree to come with you so you could embarrass me,” you chide through angry whispers.
“I’m not embarrassing you! I’m trying to hook you up with one of the hottest men on the team! I mean, he’s no Bucky, but you have to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”
“Oh my god, girl. Stop before he sends Security over to drag us out for sexual harassment,” you warn, sneaking a look over the railing at the man still laughing and watching you.
The crowd erupts in boos and groans and someone hits Thors shoulder to get his attention. He brings his hand to his mouth and blows you a kiss then runs out onto the field. You watch him the whole time, bewitched by his graceful run, his thick thighs in those tight pants and the way his golden hair peeks out the back of the helmet. The perfect stillness of his imposing form as he squats on the line, muscles trembling in anticipation.
Even from the sideline you hear his intimidating growl as the ball is hiked and he rushes the offensive line, easily pushing the colossal men out of the way. The opposing quarterback falters and tries to throw the ball but Thor leaps into the air in an impressive show of athleticism and spikes the ball to the ground, ending the play.
“Looks like he’s showing off for you,” Lindsey giggles, elbowing you playfully.
“You mean he doesn’t always try to beat the other team?” you sass.
Energized by his last play Thor seems to vibrate on the line, ready to explode the moment the ball moves. You can see the offense twitch and eye each other as Thor trash talks them. Another “hike” and Thor blasts through the wall of players, knocking two men on their ass on his way to tackle the quarterback to the ground. The ball comes loose and he scrambles to pick it up and runs it into the endzone for an epic opening touchdown.
The crowd booms it’s applause, screaming and cheering at the turn of events. AC/DCs song “Thunderstruck” blasts over the speakers and fans start to chant “thunder” while Thor dances in the end zone. Holding the ball in one hand he points it to you with a cheeky wink and runs back to the sideline as the music fades and the crowd settles.
“Yeah, he’s totally not showing off for you,” Lindsey teases.
By the end of the game you can no longer deny your friends jokes. Thor can’t seem to help himself, he sticks close to your end of the sideline when he’s not on the field, stealing glances and making faces at you. You try to hide your discomfort, he’s not your usual type, cocky, confident, and a showoff. But it’s hard to complain about a beautiful man giving you such attention.
As the game is called, another crushing victory for the home team, you watch in shock as the beefy defender comes bounding toward you, sweaty and beaming. You pause as you pack up your things and Lindsey squeals in excitement as he nears.
“Hey,” his startling deep voice rings through the rumble of the audience as they flee their seats.
“Hi!” Lindsey squeaks, bouncing excitedly. “Big fan!”
His rich chuckle bubbles from deep in his chest as he spares her a courteous glance before locking eyes with you.
“I just wanted you to have this before you go,” he says tossing one of his white gloves up to you.
You catch it clumsily, “oh. Uh, thanks. You did great out there today.”
He smirks, eyes dipping below your chin for a moment before flicking back up and cocking his head, “only one of my… many talents, little girl.”
Thankfully he saves you the pain of coming up with a response when he chuckles at your shocked expression and turns to trot back to the locker room, leaving you to scrape your jaw off the floor.
Lindsey snatched the glove from your loose grip and screams in excitement, “oh my god! Look!”
She shakes the glove in front of your face and you notice the black marker written on the palm reading ‘Daddy 555-1046’.
“Ick, ‘daddy’?” You read aloud, disgust dripping from your voice.
“Girl. Text him immediately,” Lindsey orders you seriously and you look at her in disbelief.
“No way am I texting him,” you shake your head and shove the glove into your purse.
“Dude, a professional football player just gave you his number after making eyes at you the whole game. Call. Him.”
“I don’t even like football,” you laugh.
“You don’t have to like football to appreciate that ass.”
You spend days staring at the glove, Lindsey badgering you every moment of the day to see if you still had it and suggesting you give it to her.
“Look why does it matter? It wouldn’t be anything serious, he probably does this every game. He’s a total himbo,” you argue one day on your lunch break.
“So? Where the problem? How long has it been since you got laid?” she returns, arching her plucked brow.
You mull over her words, it had been a while. And really what’s the fear? Even if it is a one-night stand, you’d likely get a nice dinner out of it and hopefully some good dick.
“Fine,” you mutter and take the glove from your purse.
“Ha! You’ve kept it on you this whole time? I knew you were a hoe,” she jokes, watching as you punch in his number.
“What do I say? It’s been days he probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“Only one way to find out,” she smiles.
Your leg bounces nervously in the back of the cab as you near the rich part of town. You stare up in awe at the beautiful building bordering Central Park. You tip the driver and get out, eyeing the doorman as you bite your lip.
“Good evening Miss,” he greets with a tip of his hat. “Here for a visit?”
“Yeah. Um, Thor Odinson gave me this address, he said to be here at seven,” you sputter.
The older man smiles sweetly, wrinkles crinkling at the corner of his eye, “Yes, Miss. He told me to expect you, come on in. Twenty third floor, second door on the left.”
“Oh, thank you,” you smile and cross the threshold.
You hesitate outside his door for a minute before finally knocking softly and adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder.
“Coming!” you hear his booming voice sound through the door followed by the clatter of pans.
You take in a deep breath as his thundering steps near the door and he pulls it open to greet you with a dashing grin.
“Hi,” you smile, worrying your lower lip as he runs his eyes down your body. You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze and clear your throat.
“Even prettier than I remember,” he flirts and steps aside, welcoming you in.
You swallow at the way his stretched t-shirt hangs loosely across his chest, draping just right to show off the sculpted curves of his pecs and perky nipples. He grabs the dishtowel slung over his shoulder and rushes back to the kitchen, curling a finger over his shoulder to get you to follow.
“Wine?” He asks as you take a seat on one of the island barstools and watch him flit about the kitchen.
“Sure, I’ll drink whatever you got,” you say agreeably as you take a second to look around the lofty space.
The two story loft is open and chic, the white walls keep it bright in contrast to the dark hardwood floors and the eye catching black spiral staircase leading to the master bedroom above. The open floor plan and minimal bold furniture pieces is the perfect design for a bachelor who enjoys entertaining. It’s a much more calm masculine energy than what you expected and pleasantly so.
“This place is amazing,” you compliment as you admire the black granite waterfall countertops.
“Thank you,” you shudder at the rich depth of his voice, “this is the one I’ve kept the longest. Hard to find the perfect apartment in this city. But this one has the view, the location, and the layout.”
“And an adorable doorman,” you add, accepting the glass of wine and eagerly taking a sip.
“Yes!” he exclaims with a laugh. “Bernie is surely a perk.”
“So, I have to ask… do you do that often? Give girls your glove with only ‘daddy’ written on it? It was a bold move, I admit.”
“It worked didn’t it?” He smiles cheekily. “I have always had a talent for spotting a woman with a certain… quality, about them.” His eyes sparkle as they watch the way your throat bobs when you swallow nervously.
“Yeah?” You voice comes out a little higher than expected. “What quality is that?” You narrow your eyes playfully.
He hums in amusement and brings a grape to his lips, popping it in his mouth with a pleased groan, the sound of which causes your thighs to clench together.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” he smirks as he sets a bowl of mixed fruit in front of you.
You try to fight the smile, but his flirty confidence is surprisingly effective and you suddenly realize how out of your depth you are. His smile is disarming and he clearly does have a talent for seduction and it makes your heart beat a bit faster.
“Now, dinner is almost done. How about you go pick out some music for us? Anything on the top shelf should work,” he points at the vinyl record player in the living area behind you before turning back to the stove.
You nod and wander over to the low shelf filled with sleeves of records. You recognize most of the artists and are surprised at some of his older taste, maybe he’s not such so basic after all. You pick out some Marvin Gaye, and wander around the large space, admiring the more personal touches to get a feel for him.
You are taken aback by the amount of philanthropic memories, pictures of him building houses, helping at the special Olympics, visiting children in hospitals. Perhaps the one that surprises you most is the image of Thor cutting a ribbon for a youth community center in his name, children clinging to him with big goofy smiles.
His slow footsteps come up behind you and you feel an excited tingle run under your skin. Maybe Lindsey is right, you judged him too quickly, and the more you learn, the more you like him.
“I admit, I did not expect this side of you.”
“I don’t do it for praise,” he returns, “I prefer people save that for my other talents.”
You laugh, “oh yeah? Like what?” You tease as you continue admiring the pictures with interest.
A small gasp escapes when he takes your chin and turns you up to face him. He smiles at the way your eyes seem to glisten instantly and your lips part in surprise. “Let’s start with dinner.”
Just as suddenly he releases you and struts back over to the beautifully arranged dining table. You follow slowly as you temper the heat swelling in your core and the flicker of disappointment at the loss of his touch.
The rest of the dinner is spent fighting your desperation as the sexual tension thickens between you. You eat slowly, unnerved by the way his eyes follow the movement of your mouth as though at any moment he might leap across the table and devour them.
But he doesn’t. He’s remarkably calm and disciplined as he teases you with his dark promises and filthy insinuations with each question he answers.
“I can see that you want to ask about it, so ask little girl,” he smiles as you touch your cheek, fighting the heat gathering there. “Go on, I know it’s been on your mind. Is it why you finally decided to text me.”
“Ok, explain the ‘daddy’ thing,” you yield.
He chuckles and his pupils widen, “it is as much a title as any other. And one that pleases me far more than any other in my life.”
“Ok… so that’s it? You just like girls to call you ‘daddy’ when you’re… when you - you know,” you regret asking, feeling hot under the pressure of the conversation, you probably sound like an idiot.
“Yes and no. I expect them to call me Daddy,” he intones. “Just as I expect them to respect my authority during our sessions. I’m not some horny teenager, I am a dominant and I am only interested in women who are willing to submit to me.”
Your mouth goes dry instantly, all moisture pooling between your legs at his firm rich tone of voice. “Oh,” you squeak trying not to give yourself away.
“So,” he prompts, raising a brow expectantly. “Are you going to praise me on my eye for … quality, or shall we say goodnight?”
Your hips swivel in your chair as your thighs tighten, cunt clenching beneath your dress. You know what you want to say, you want to submit, but you’re nervous to admit it so openly. You nod as you bite your lip and he smiles.
“Try again,” he demands softly. “I need to hear you say it. You can do it. Just say ‘yes daddy’.”
You swallow the huge lump in your throat, eyes unblinking as they lock with his, making you feel small and vulnerable, “y-yes daddy.”
In a flash he is on his feet, the legs of the table screeching along the wood as he pushes it out of the way in his haste to get to you. He scoops you up in his arm and you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the nearest wall.
Your back meets the cool painted brick wall and you moan as his lips latch to your neck. Your chin lowers when he reaches a particularly ticklish spot and he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of your head and tugs your head back giving him more access.
“Oh god,” you gasp as your heart beats wildly in your chest.
“No,” he growls into your neck, nipping you in warning. “Daddy.”
“Yes, daddy,” you acquiesce needing his lips back on you.
He hums his approval and pecks small kisses down your neck, taking a moment to suck along your collarbone. He leans into you, his body and the wall keeping you in place as his other hand grabs your ass. He groans and uses both hands to squeeze your cheeks, spreading them open and pressing them together again over and over. The rush of the cool air and the stretch stimulate your cunt and you groan, knowing you are close to soaking his pants through your drenched panties.
“Please,” you beg, slit grinding into the rough edges of his jeans and whimpering when your clit finds the button, causing your hips swivel faster.
“Beg all you like, little one. I love to ignore it,” he snickers.
He takes his time, teasing you against the wall for what feels like forever, clearly in no rush to go further. You hump his pelvis, his bulge providing the perfect shape to scratch that desperate itch. You moan loudly as you near your peak, so close when he pulls away from the wall, eliminating that delicious friction. He slap your ass harshly and tuts at you as you cling to him.
“You only come when Daddy says,” he hisses in your ear as he walks you over to the stairs.
He keeps you close, his muscles rippling under your fingers as you try to keep from falling with every bounce. But he holds you firm, grip unwavering without a hint of exertion. You take a moment to scold yourself for ever doubting the sex appeal of professional athletes.
The next thing you know he’s forcing you off him and tossing you onto the bed. You bounce and gasp at the rough treatment, something you’ve only ever seen in movies or experienced in your dreams.
“If you’d like those clothes to remain in one piece I suggest taking them off. Now.”
You hurry to get up on your knees and pull the simple cocktail dress off and toss it to the floor. Your shaky fingers fumble with the bra clasp as you watch him reach behind his neck and pull the shirt off one-handed with ease. You get the clasps released but your hand goes limp as you take in every chiseled inch of him. He looks as though he’s been crafted by the gods, not a single flaw. Every muscle perfectly toned, perfectly golden skin in a perfectly proportioned package.
“Holy shit,” you breathe as he pops the button on his jeans and with a tiny wiggle they fall to the floor.
He smirks, eyes glittering in amusement as you sit there frozen in awe. The briefs are the last to go and you audibly moan as he reveals his rigid cock. He’s the most mouth-watering thing you’ve ever seen, and your stomach flutters as you finally achieve the ultimate thirst for a man.
“Is your mouth hanging open like that an invitation? Because I will happy oblige,” he chuckles as he grips his cock and crawls toward you, giving himself a few tight pumps.
Only a few feet away, and you still sit there like a deer in headlights. He squeezes the base of his cock while his other hand grips the back of your neck and he pushes you down.
“Open wide and relax that throat,” he orders softly as he guides you to his tip.
You don’t fight, eager to please him as his slides along your tongue. Your hands drop to support you as you bob up and down, arching your back and sticking out your ass.
The delightful groan he makes vibrates your whole body and you grip the comforter as it makes you clench, cunt already dripping for him. You have always been addicted to the power you feel when taking a man into your mouth, and the louder he gets the higher you feel. You take him as far as you can, unable to swallow his whole length and gagging painfully when you try.
“Shh, it’s ok. That’s a good girl,” he praises as he pets your head and tickles your back, enjoying every curve.
You release him with a pop and he hums as he looks down at you, still waiting his orders on your hands and knees.
“On your back, feet spread at the end of the bed,” he orders and climbs back off the bed.
You hastily remove the bra still dangling from your arm and tear down your panties as you assume the position. He stands at the foot of the bed with a small metal pole with cuffs at each end. He quickly binds your ankles and lefts your legs so that they hang from the bar. He grips it tight and pulls it open wide and wider, the spreader bar keeping you open, unable to close your legs no matter how you badly you want to.
The brief humiliation of being so exposed fades into excitement when he holds the bar with both hands and lifts, as though you were some sexy workout in the gym. Your hips raise off the mattress and you squeak as your ass bounces against his pelvis, barely missing his glistening cock.
“Remember, be good and ask Daddy’s permission to come,” he reminds you as he uses the bar to guide your hanging hips into place and prods your entrance with his velvety tip. Your slick spreads with each attempt coating him generously until he slides in, stretching you wide.
His biceps bulge, veins pressing against his skin as he holds you aloft and begins to thrust his hips into you. The angle is dangerous, his maddeningly large cock painful except for when it presses against your g-spot. You twitch and cry out as he pounds into you without relent. He’s not wild or feral like most men when they try to go rough, he’s got a calm darkness in his eyes, enjoying the way you scream for him.
That string in your abdomen tightens and your eyes roll, arms outstretched against the mattress looking for anything to hold onto while your lower half is manhandled with such disciplined force. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced and without thinking you come with a drawn out groan, legs trembling in their suspended bonds.
He stops and drops the bar before flipping it, your body twisting awkwardly so that your arms are now pinned under your stomach. The thundering slaps filled the room along with your startled screams, the tender flesh of your ass burning with the sting of his angry swats.
“Bad girl,” he growls. “I don’t like when my rules are ignored. Now let’s try that again shall we?”
He reaches under your chin and pulls your head up, straining your neck and arching your back as he turns you to face a shelf on the wall above the bed. You see a small red light beneath a round black round lens and your blood runs cold as you blink at it in horror.
“Now say ‘sorry’ to Daddy and I’ll give you one more chance.”
His grip on your jaw is painful as you struggle in his hold. You want to scream, demand he let you go but as his fingers dig into your flesh, the fear overwhelms you.
“S-sorry Daddy! S-sorry!” You sob and collapse in defeat on the mattress when he lets you go. Tears seep into the comforter as he tugs the bar down, leaving you bent over the edge of the bed with his hands framing your hips.
“I forgive you, baby. I know you can be good for me.” He leans down, the heat of him smothering your back as he kisses your shoulder. “But if you do that again, I’m going to tear that sweet little ass apart,” he whispers in your ear, chuckling at the way you whimper fearfully.
Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @threeminutesoflife @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken
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ghostedgwen · 4 months ago
don’t blame me | j.potter (part two)
note : thank you so much for the patience! I enjoyed my short writing break and so here is the second part to my most recent James Potter fic - I wanted to make this as long as the previous chapter but didn’t want to do so many time skips in one part so I’ll just find a way around that in the next part!
warning/s : more angst (?), arguments, fighting with James - sort of, a bit of fluff if you squint, also slightly edited (might have left soem errors still)
James finally finds out the reason why you seem to hate him all this time - his response was very unexpected and now leads you to having an odd friendship with him. words : 3.2k
                                                    . . .
You couldn't sleep that night. You kept seeing his annoying smirking face in your mind every time you closed your eyes and that voice of his kept echoing in your dorm room despite the silence.
Such a simple word shouldn't shake you that much - this was a mistake on your part. You shouldn't have provoked him, you knew better than to provoke a Marauder because they always take the hits and multiply it before attacking back.
You let your anger get the better of you and poked a sleeping bear.
That might be one of your biggest flaws; the inability to control the words that would escape past your lips once your hand begin developing their tremors and your mind become clouded by a red fog.
James Potter was the only person with access to this dainty little switch in your brain that renders you incapable of thinking straight, and he has no idea - he sees this as a little game he would purse because apparently, six years of chasing Evans isn't as exciting anymore.
The following morning, you dragged your exhausted and sleep-deprived body to the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. You drop to a spot on the seat and lazily served yourself toast, tuning out the chatter of the other students.
"_____, you look like you got attacked by a Hippogriff."
You turn to raise an eyebrow at a Ravenclaw a year above you - Rowle with his eyes narrowed, and you lazily shrugged, making your robes shift slightly over your shoulders.
"Maybe I did." Actually, that'd be better than what actually happened. You'd rather die than admit out loud that you lost sleep over James Potter.
"Okay." He dragged the vowel with his nose scrunched up and turned back to his breakfast.
You look down at your depressing toast and draws a long sigh out of you. You can't keep this up all day, you'll let this run its course for breakfast but you'll fic yourself before your classes and act accordingly until the day finished.
You already know a few ruthless Professors will be assigning essays the very first back to school, and you could really use that distraction from one handsome obstacle in Gryffindor robes and round glasses.
You were almost finished with your toast when you felt the weight of someone's arm around your shoulder, you closed your eyes and wished to all your ancestors that it's not who you think it is and they've answered your prayers -
Only this is not even any better.
"G'morning, ______."
You facepalm and try to shrug the arm off but it weighed your shoulders down and kept you in place. You can only groan from irritation, and you didn't have to turn to see the smirk on his face.
"What do you want, Black?"
"Got sent here to deliver a message, the boss wants to talk before lunch."
You scoff. "I knew I called you a guard dog but I didn't know you were also his butler."
"I'm many things, babe." You turn to glare at him and had to scoot away because his face was too close. "So, meet him by the lake."
"I don't have to do anything." You tell him, trying to stand your ground despite this whole affair being a 1 v 4 battle.
"That's true," he nods and sticks out his bottom lip before returning the signature smirk. "But you wouldn't want to wake up with feathers tomorrow now, would you?"
You suck in an exasperated breath through gritted teeth and that was enough of an answer for him, he pulled his arm off you and began walking away. You mutter curses under your breath as you watched him walk away and eventually meet-up with the other three at the Gryffindor table.
You spot James looking your way and you glared from where you sat while he remained grinning, obviously amused. He's ruined your summer, your first night back in Hogwarts and your morning so far.
You're not sure how much more of this you can take.
"I'm here now, so what is it?" You ask before even reaching the black lake, yelling over the sound of the calm waters and spotting James Potter's silhouette in the distance.
He waits for you to finish walking before he addressed you. "_____, lovely of you to come see me here."
"Quit vexing me, what do you want?" You cross your arms, shifting all your weight to one foot and addressing him with a harsh glare. He remained smiling at you for a few seconds before talking.
"I had a productive morning, I made a list and to be honest - it only has two things on it as of now," James began and you listened in silence, wondering where he's taking this. "I wrote down a list of the possible reasons you seem to hate my guts."
You side-eye the lake, growing uncomfortable, and gave in with a shrug when he just stared at you, waiting for a response. "Fine, what is it then?"
"One : I may or may not have gotten you involved in a prank - accidentally, and you've never forgiven me since," James lifted his finger in the air and you only blink in disbelief. "You won't be the first."
You remain quiet - not wanting to instigate him further with his stupid theories and he nods slowly with a pout when he realized you weren't going to confirm nor deny his words.
"And the second one : you have a thing for me - " James stated proudly. "Why else would you be mad at me for no reason? You're brokenhearted because I only have my eyes on lovely Evans."
You gave him a perplexed look, words completely escaping you, and he took that as a 'yes', backing away slowly and blinking in disbelief at himself for getting it right. Once you recovered from the shock, you shake your head.
"No - that's - " you exhale exasperatedly and stepped back. "Bloody hell, you are unbelievable."
He forced a small grin, noticing the displeasure on your face. "I've been told."
That did nothing to defuse the situation, you were practically fuming and if smoke could come out of your ears and nose - they would. "You actually think that I - " you can't even bring yourself to finish that sentence. You turned on your heel and began walking away. "Fuckin' hell."
James was quick to act, reaching for your  hand to stop you and you harshly turn to him, trying to retrieve your arm but his grip was strong and he had a question to ask.
"Was I wrong then?"
"Merlin, leave me alone!" You yell, tugging one last time to successfully slip past his hold, and rolled your tongue against your cheek in annoyance. "Are you really so full of yourself that you can't stand the thought of someone not liking you?"
"Not just someone," James said so quietly, you barely heard it. "You're my fiancée."
"And that's supposed to mean anything? You proposed 7 years ago and you don't even remember your oath," you laugh but there was no humor in it. "I get this is entertaining for you - Evans is not doing it for you any more so you're harassing me instead but I'm not interested in playing this game with you."
"Harassing? What - "
"Do me a favour and write to your parents - tell them there will be no wedding because I won't marry the likes of you."
"You may be going about this the wrong way, Prongs." Remus spoke, closing his book and putting it aside - no longer interested in the pages when his best friend's current dilemma was most interesting.
"How should I do it then?" James asked, groaning into his palms, and the three boys exchange looks - they've never seen him this aggravated until Evans got really mad during their fifth-year when Snape turned on her.
"Arrange a meeting - "
"Will she come? Prongs didn't make the first two meetings very pleasant." Peter crinkled his nose, throwing a flavoured bean in his mouth and nodding in delight at the taste of clean snow. "Never got this flavour before."
"Alright then," Remus shifts his position on the bed and turned to James fully. "Send her a letter, apologize for earlier and then sincerely ask her to meet - maybe swear that it will be the last time and you'll never bother her again?"
"But what if it doesn't go well and I can't bother her anymore?"
The room grew silent - Sirius was the first one to recover. "Why would that even bother you, mate?"
"Yeah, if she doesn't like you then best leave it alone, right?" Peter asked with a frown.
"I mean - " James struggled to form a proper sentence but managed to construct a perfect excuse on the spot, one of his many gifts. "I mean - we used to be friends before? Surely, that must mean something."
"Sure." Remus rolled his eyes.
"So go write your letter, mate." Sirius tapped his shoulder encouragingly and James was quick to grab his parchment and a quill.
You frown at the owl that landed on your lap. You were sat in the halls, overlooking the open field right next to you, while you're settled right on the open window. You grab the letter attached to it and thanked Merlin under your breath that you were snacking while reading.
Pinching a piece of your biscuits and throwing it over to the owl, who happily snacked and waited for you to open the letter. You purse your lips, having an inkling as to who this came from.
Opening the letter, you narrow your eyes slightly as you scan the words.
"Got a love letter, _____?" You look up abruptly, tearing your gaze away from the parchment and looking up to meet eyes with Oliver Klove. You've been waiting for him so you two can work on your collaboration in a 12-page Potions essay.
"Nope, the last thing this letter will give me is butterflies." You tell him with a roll of your eyes, tucking the parchment between your book. Using it as a bookmark and shutting it.
"So, we do work here or head to the library?"
You spotted four familiar figures behind him walking down the hall, you hurriedly grabbed your belongings and pet the owl then grabbed Oliver's hand - beginning to drag him down the hall with gritted teeth.
"Library it is, then." Oliver answered his own question, a hint of amusement in his voice from your unexpected action.
Once at the library - you two worked in silence. A few words were exchanged here and there but it was mostly the comforting silence and quiet scraping of quills against parchment. He was very easy to talk to and work with, so you were working smoothly alongside him.
You didn't even notice the time - you've been at it for hours and just now finished half of the essay. You lean back on your chair, stretching your back and groaning when you heard a few pops from your joints.
"That should do it for today," Oliver grinned, beginning to put away his belongings. "You seem tired, and we have a whole week ahead of us."
"Yeah - I'll try and do a bit more reading, but let's not work on this for a few more days." You let out an involuntary yawn. "I need at least 3 days of rest after that."
Oliver chuckled, nodding along your words and got up. "Thank you for working with me," he lowered his head slightly and you grin up at him. "I'll see you around, _____."
You watched him leave and opened your book again, hoping to get some more reading done before retreating to your dorm when you saw the parchment again. A reminder of the meeting you're supposed to attend.
You glance at the giant clock in the library and cursed under your breath, you're an hour late!
You arrived, panting and clutching your book bag so it wouldn't jump around as you ran down the halls. Entering the abandoned classroom and wiping the sweat off your forehead.
"You came." A voice greeted you and almost made you jump. You turn to find James Potter lazily sat on one of the dusty tables.
"Almost thought you wouldn't show."
You cleared your throat awkwardly,and walked further into the room. Setting your heavy bag down on the table. "I had an essay to write - I didn't realize the time."
"Ravenclaws," he smirked, and you frown at that - what type of commentary even is that? You don't stereotype Hufflepuffs to be good little angels, so what's with that comment about being a Ravenclaw? "So, you came."
"Yes - I was promised to be left alone after this." You shrug.
"Right," James potter shifted in his seat. "I meant it by the way - the apology, I really am sorry about earlier and how I acted."
"You're forgiven," you tell him with a tight-lipped smile but he still looked bothered. "Is that all?"
"I just really want to know why you don't like me."
You laugh at that. "Not everyone is supposed to like you, Jamie."
James paused. You called him a nickname he hasn't got in a while - in fact, only one person ever called him that and it was -
"It was you then?" James asked, the dots in his head connecting and they all point towards you. Standing here before him in a brighter light and he couldn't shake off the odd feeling settling in his chest.
"I was what?" You ask him, stitching your brows and wondering what he's on about this time.
"The one leaving me notes - " James' grin quickly morphed into a frown. "Why did you stop?"
James recalled his first years at Hogwarts. He forgot but - before, someone would leave him encouraging notes accompanied by random sweets whenever he had a terrible day, a nasty encounter with Slytherins, lost a Quidditch game or got rejected by Lily for the nth time.
But all of it abruptly stopped around their fourth-year. The notes stopped coming, and he eventually lost hope in seeing those cute scribbles again. He never did plan to unmask the person behind the notes, he liked the mystery, and he wasn't even sure what he'd do once he finds out.
Now here he is, 3 years later, remembering them and realizing it was you all along.
"I don't know," you shrug. "Maybe I started to finally realize that the friendship was very one-sided."
"What?" James furrowed his brows in confusion.
"You always did love being in the spotlight and I was fine with that - " you draw out a sharp breath in exasperation. "Just fucking sucked that you left me behind."
"And that's why you're mad?" James asked, taking a step forward, and you stepped back at the same time, not allowing him to close the distance. It was far too late for that. "Because I forgot about you and our engagement?"
You held back your laughter - there's no need for another one of your crazy person cackle amidst a breakdown. You instead scoffed in offence and raised a brow, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips. "This was never about the engagement. You were my best friend and you forgot, and left so I have the right to be mad!"
You suck in another exasperated breath. "You've been my friend since I was able to walk and I expected to adjust to Hogwarts with you alongside me. But what happened instead was you got yourself pretty Gryffindor friends and forgot I even existed."
"I'm sorry."
That was a quick response and one you did not expect - has James Potter ever apologized to anyone before? And so prompted, at that. You stare at him in shock, your lips parted slightly and he takes in your expression before talking again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know - I shouldn't have annoyed you all this time and," James paused, hanging his head low. "I'm sorry for abandoning our friendship."
You suddenly felt awkward under this setting, standing there and receiving an apology from James Potter who hung his head so low you almost feel bad -
"It's fine," you shrug. "It's been years so it's - whatever."
"How do I make it up to you then?"
"Excuse me?" You blink in disbelief.
"I abandoned you before, I won't do it again. Tell me how to make it better."
What does one even say in this very impossible scenario of your ex-childhood friend lowering his pride and seeking forgiveness when you never anticipated this happening even in your wildest dreams?
So you agreed — actually, there was no room for discussion when it came to James Potter who left you in shock, standing alone in the abandoned classroom, after announcing he will redeem himself.
He delivered an "I will make this better, I'll fix it" speech or something - you were too flabbergasted to process the moment fully - and then left.
Leaving you dumbfounded and frozen in shock. It took you a few minutes to recover and when you did, you had to hold on to a table to keep your balance.
Your knees felt weak and another set of involuntary laughter came out of you - just you and your manic cackling in an empty room. 
You sat down for a moment, replaying the previous events in your head and almost burst out laughing again from how much has happened in just a day.
First day back at Hogwarts during your last year did not disappoint at all - you’ll be sure to tell your future children about this stupid experience for many years to come.
Who knows? You might even let someone publish an article about it?
After letting your imagination run wild to cope with the hoops and hurdles you had to jump through the entire day, you gathered yourself and left the room - making it back to your dorms just in time to maybe take a quick shower before your rounds.
In the shower, you try and block our the memories you had of you and James when you were younger. Unlike him who obviously forgot, you remembered everything all too well.
No matter how badly you wished to move on from that chapter of you life - the pages stuck together and you felt as if you were still there, in that red dress standing while he knelt down and offered you a flower he stole from his mother’s garden.
You knew how he had an odd fascination with frogs and their beady eyes, listened to him talk about quidditch for hours despite not having any interest in the sports, always got scratches on your leg trying to keep up with him when playing and how your tiny little heart would race while his small fingers lightly graze your knee and apply ointment on the tiny scratches.
It’s not fair to be forgotten so easily when he was all you’ve ever known.
And until now he has no idea how you truly felt about him all those eyars ago - but surely you don’t have those anymore, it’s been years. You haven’t felt anything for him other than irritation and resentment since.
So there should be no need to worry over his claim to make it up to you, right?
Right. . .
to be continued. masterlist
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sukirichi · a year ago
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— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.
PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader
REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 
WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story
NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty
WC: 5.4k+
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The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.
Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.
Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.
With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.
He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.
You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.
“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”
“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”
“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”
“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”
He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”
“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”
“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”
“I know.”
“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.
Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.
“What exactly do you know about this industry?”
“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”
The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”
“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”
“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”
“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”
“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”
“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”
“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”
“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.
Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”
It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.
You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!
“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”
“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”
“Fushiguro Megumi.”
“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”
“You trying to say something?”
You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”
Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.
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You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.
Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.
The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.
He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.
“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”
“Oh, thank you. You are...?”
“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.
“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”
Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.
“Whoa, you made all this?!”
Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”
At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”
“You can – if you book an appointment.”
“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.
“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”
“Why not?”
“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”
You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”
That was the biggest lie of your life.
The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.
You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.
And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.
In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.
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“Hey, Y/N, you free?”
You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.
“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”
“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”
You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.
He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.
It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.
“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”
“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.
Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.
“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”
“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.
Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.
You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?
“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.
“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”
“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”
“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”
“Something wrong with that?”
“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”
“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”
“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.
Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”
He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”
“How sweet of you.”
“Shut up.”
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You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.
He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.
You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.
Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.
Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.
You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.
One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.
Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”
Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.
“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”
“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”
Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”
“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.
It was now or never.
“Can I see your tattoos too?”
“Why do you want to see them?”
“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”
“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”
“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.
“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”
Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”
“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.
A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.
You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”
Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”
You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.
“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”
“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”
“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”
Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”
“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”
“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”
“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.
You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.
Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”
“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”
“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.
Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”
“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”
“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”
“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.
A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.
He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.
You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.
“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”
“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.
Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”
“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.
Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.
“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”
“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”
He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.
“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”
4K notes · View notes
lostinlewis · a month ago
Can you give us a post race smut fic?
Like after Spain and that good race results when he goes to his driver’s room (that glassy fancy room he got in after hearing that fan shouting “we believe in you”) and the reader is there to welcome him and congratulate him then you find his hands WONDERING as he’s so excited after the race and DOTD and is actually on a high so pumped with adrenaline lol and you start making out .. etc! 🤭
Oooh this could be a fun one 😏
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Lewis was late back from his media duties due to a random drug test he was required to do, it was just typical that it would be the race you were bursting to congratulate him on.
‘Engineers room. I’ll be up in 10.’
You wasted no time getting there, there was nothing at all casual about the brisk walk you did from the Mercedes garage to the engineers room, you were so zeroed in on finally getting to see him after his race that you didn’t care to be discreet with it.
The wait for him to arrive felt like forever, but the moment you saw that Black Mercedes shirt round the corner your adrenaline was sky high once more.
You practically jumped on him the moment he was through the glass doors, wrapping as much of yourself around him as you kissed him like you hadn’t seen him in years.
“Well done, babe. You drove so well!”
“Thank you, it was a tough one that’s for sure.”
Lewis held your waist with his hands, as he had the biggest grin on his face. These moments were so few and far between this season, you could have stood there just staring at him basking in happiness for the rest of the night.
“After lap one I was ready to fight someone, but you did amazing and to get driver of the day too? I think we should really celebrate tonight…”
The grin on his face turned into a smirk as he realised what you meant.
“Why wait until later? We have this room all to ourselves for the next fifteen minutes.”
You took no convincing at all, both of you shared a mutual kink in the thrill of getting caught. Lewis led you over to the end of the large table, turning you around so you could face out of the window, before you bent over for him.
The gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, was always as if it was the first time you had felt him, never truly getting used to his size.
With one hand on your shoulder, and the other grabbing at your ass, Lewis fucked you like he hadn’t just raced in extreme heat for 66 laps.
He watched you as you struggled with pleasure, your hands fighting for grip on the table as you tried desperately to not collapse, every stroke sent you closer and closer to the kind of orgasm that exploded through your whole body.
With a gentle grip on your hair, he pulled you up to him so he could nibble on your ear whilst he slowly stroked you.
“If Williams start their debrief early, the whole team will see me fucking you, you know that right?”
He was right, their engineers room was opposite Mercedes’ and there was no hiding you both as fucked in full display of the glass windows.
“I hope they do…I want everyone to know how good you make me feel.”
“Oh is that right? Naughty girl.”
Lewis’ hand danced around your front before he found your clit to tease.
“Maybe I should keep us both on edge until my team is about to arrive, you can have the audience you so crave.”
“Lewis, I’m so…”
“Oh I know, baby. I can feel it coming. Are you going to be quiet for me?”
You shook your head, unable to reply with words now.
“Good. If you scream loud enough, the paddock will hear you.”
With encouragement, your orgasm hit just enough to begin to draw out his. Lewis threw you back down so he could fuck both of you through it, you obliged him with the screaming of course, it was impossible for you not to.
As if they were waiting at the bottom for you both to finish, within seconds of your orgasms you both heard the team coming up to join you.
“Should I go?”
It was impressive how fast the both of you could make yourselves look relatively normal after a wild session.
“No, I want you to stay. I want you to sit on my lap the whole debrief, just so I can feel you dripping with my cum.”
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mcyt-peach · 2 months ago
Could you write a Wilbur x reader oneshot, where the reader is Tommy's older sibling and they both meet for the first time and they both start flirting with each other a lot? Maybe it's based on the themepark vlog with Wilbur, tommy and Phil?
the curse of the younger brother
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·˚ * summary: Tommy’s theme park vlog gets a bit derailed when Wilbur takes a liking to his older sibling
·˚ * pairing: cc!wilbur x gn!reader
·˚ * warnings: reader actually uses they/them pronouns, brief descriptions of rollercoasters, fear and dizziness
·˚ * word count: 638
·˚ * genre: fluff, romantic
·˚ * note: oh to be tommy's older sibling and flirt with wil just because, this was lovely to write so I hope you like it :)
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“C’mon Tommy! We’re gonna be late!” Your voice echoed up the stairs as Tommy scrambled about upstairs. He finally came down to where you stood by the door, clamouring into the car after you.
Why you had agreed to drive Tommy to the theme park for his vlog, you’ll never know. But it was good to get out of the house once in a while. You couldn’t spend all your time working on schoolwork, at least that’s what your mum had told you while convincing you to be Tommy’s ride.
Well, a day at the amusement park wouldn’t be that bad. You only wish you were hanging out with someone your age. As you pulled in to park, Tommy was practically bursting out of the car, obviously ecstatic to be filming the rides and shenanigans he had planned for the day.
Tommy nearly disappeared into the crowd immediately, only to be pulled back by his shirt to your side. “How do you expect Tubbo to find you if you keep wandering...”
That... was not Tubbo. The man running up to you and Tommy was decidedly not the teenage boy you were expecting. Brown hair peaked out of his beanie and he clapped your brother on the back good naturedly before turning to you.
“Uh, hi! I didn’t know you were coming today.” His smile was slightly crooked, feeling a bit awkward at the change in plans.
“So you’re the internet man my little brother’s been talking to.” Your teasing seems to go over his head as he waves his hands around and tries to explain that it’s not what you think. His ears had a burning blush on them when you patted his arm and said you were only joking.
Tommy stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold in disgust. “I’m going to throw up.” he announced before turning on his heel to find Phil and Russ, leaving you and Wilbur with no choice but to follow him.
Thankfully, for Tommy’s sake, the two of you stopped acting strange when the vlogging began. Wilbur and Tommy played off each other and Phil interjected to say some jokes while Russ and you stayed behind the camera.
It was good to see Tommy so happy, knowing full well the stress he was under, with school, friends and his multiple channels. Wilbur seemed to bring everyone out of their shell, even the usually soft spoken Russ. Something about him was magnetic.
And draw you in he did. Wilbur had managed to coax you onto one of the more dramatic rides at the park. Seating yourself next to him, the attendants strapped the two of you into the ride. As the cart shuffled up towards the top of the track, you felt your nerves grow at the anticipation.
Wilbur laid his hand atop yours to calm you, giving you a soft smile. Then the cart stopped... and started its long descent down. You were screaming and so was Wilbur. Distantly you could hear Tommy’s yell over the sound of the air rushing past you.
But then the ride was slowing down, your laughter replacing your screams as the straps were released. Standing up from your seat, you wobbled a bit and Wilbur steadied you with his hands on your shoulders. “Dizzy?” He questioned.
“Just a bit.” You nodded back. Wilbur got you settled on a bench as Tommy dug into his newly acquired containers of cotton candy.
“Wil, do you think you could drive me for the next vlog?”
“I’ll drive!” Your head popped up from where it had been leaning against Wilbur’s shoulder.
Phil chuckled like he knew something you didn’t and Tommy huffed from his place on the grass, not having a good enough reason to deny you, but knowing you only volunteered to see Wilbur again.
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seospearbs · 3 months ago
Sorry, I love you.
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pairing: changbin, reader
genre: fluff
summary: A drunken Y/n confesses to her boyfriend.
count: .8k
song: sorry i love you by stray kids
warnings: mentions of alcohol, established relationship, mentions of other members, brief mention of weight/appearance (nothing serious), use of she/her pronouns
not proof read. my first writing just for some fun.
“Okay. That’s enough for tonight.” Changbin swiftly took the glass filled with plum soju out of your hands, causing you to pout at his actions.
“Boooooo! I just wanted to have some fun with the boys. Isn’t that right Lix?” The drunk girl turned to an equally as drunk Felix who could only nod as he was consumed with the deck of uno cards in front of him.
Changbin got up to toss your drink into the sink. Coming back he saw how you were snuggle onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his one as his head was lying on top of yours. You two smiled and drunkenly talked about who was right and wrong in the argument between this couple on a kdrama. Changbin is typically the jealous type, but he knew that you and Hyunjin were close friends before the two of you got together. He actually appreciates how close you are to the members, as they are just like family to him.
“But the nights just begun.” You exaggerated, bright smile, and arms stretching in a circular motion.
“Y/n, it’s 3am. I need us to get home safely. You’ll thank me in the morning.” Despite verbal retaliation, your body easily followed his guide, blowing kisses to the boys as you made your way to the door.
The ride back was quiet. Your eyes was closed as Changbin held your hand, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb as his other hand occupied the steering wheel.
By the time you arrived to your shared apartment, you were much more dizzy getting up than before, stumbling to catch your balance against the car.
“I told you we should have stopped at the McDonalds. You need something in your stomach to balance the alcohol.”
“It’s too late to eat. All the food will just go to my face.”
“Your very cute face, whether slim or chubby.” Changbin teased.
“Stop flirting with me Mr.Seo. I’ll have you know my boyfriend has rather massive and sexy arms and he can beat you up!” Changbin couldn’t help but to laugh at your antics, happy to see you were just as blunt and humorous as when you’re sober.
“Well is he okay with me helping you get inside safely?”
“I suppose he will- AH!” Changbin had, quite literally, swept you off your feet, finding that it was easier to carry you than help you struggle up the stairs.
Making it to the second floor and inside your apartment, he helped you change into your pajamas which only consisted of one of his shirts and your underwear. Changbin took of his shirt and pants, leaving him in a tank and boxers. You both crawled into each other’s arms. Changbin laid on his back, your head on his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso, his wrapped around your waist and both your legs intertwined.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.” He whispered back curiously.
“I think I love my boyfriend too much.” And of course, Changbin’s curiosity was peaked as a smirked pulled onto his lips. “Is that so?”
“Yea. Sometimes I think I’ll love him too much he won’t know what to do with it and leave. Or maybe he will feel the need to love me back more, even though it isn’t genuine.” The two day in silence for a moment. Changbin felt oddly reassured by your confession. He felt reassured because he knew he loved you more than you love him, more than you’d ever expect. Even the members could tell, often teasing him about when you’d find someone better.
He knew you were long gone in a deep slumber. Your breaths were now steady, your finger was no long drawing patterns on his hip. And since you were sleep, he felt confident enough to confess a secret of his own.“Something tells me he loves you so much, he dedicates everything he does to you. Sometimes he’s in the studio, and he writes lyrics that reminds him of the times he’s spent with you. When he’s on stage, he performs as if every face in the audience is you. When you aren’t looking, he puts extra meat onto your plate to make and if you’re too full to finish, he playfully whines before eating the meat that was previously his. Sometimes he even finds a new path home, that may even be 30 seconds shorter but the more time he can spend with you, the happier he is.”
At this point, Changbin didn’t realize the tear that rolled down his eyes until he felt a small squeeze on his hands, indicating that you weren’t completely sleep, but much too tired to respond. Changbin smiled at the action, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead without moving you too much. “Y/n. Baby. Sorry, but I love you so much more.”
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all-that-jazz-93 · 2 months ago
The Conqueror - A Short Story
Awareness comes to me slowly. The last thing I remember, I was in a situation I knew I couldn’t possibly live through. As my surroundings become clearer, I realize I didn’t live through it. I look up at the imposing gold gate in front of me and it occurs to me that I must be standing at the entrance to the afterlife.
A figure materializes to my left, approaches me slowly, and comes to a stop a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. I figure he must be here to guide me into eternity.
“Welcome to the afterlife,” says the friendly guide; his brilliant white teeth gleam as he smiles gently and leads me through the gate.
His white robe billows behind him as he leads me up a golden staircase. When we reach the top, he opens the door in front of us and waves me inside a brightly lit room.
The walls are stark white, and everything looks a little misty. Sort of like the way all those old cartoons like Tom & Jerry used to portray Heaven. I nod to myself. All right, then. I made it into Heaven. Good for me.
We don’t so much walk across the room as glide. We come to a stop in front of a large wooden desk. Sitting on the desk is a shiny new laptop computer with Microsoft Word open on it. Beside the computer is a nice leather-bound notebook and a silver cup filled with high quality pens and pencils. A printer sits on the floor beside the desk.
“Welcome to your new home,” says the guide. “You were a writer in your mortal life, so this space has been designed especially for you.”
I grin and sit down in the comfortable office chair, giving it a gleeful spin before I grasp the edge of the desk and pull myself forward. I get to spend eternity writing! Who knew Heaven would be so perfectly tailored to my passions?
“I’ll check in on you in a little while to see how you’re doing,” the guide says as he glides out of the room. “Have fun.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I am alone with my new writing station. In an instant, I’ve got my first brilliant idea. It pops into my head, very nearly fully formed, and it’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. Excited, I place my hands on the keyboard in front of me.
I pause, my fingers hovering above the keys. I stare at the screen. A blank Word document stares back at me.
What was that idea again? I literally had the whole thing not ten seconds ago, and now I’m drawing a blank. It’s not even that I forgot it. I mean, it’s all still there in my head, I just…can’t figure out where to start. I don’t have the words.
My first day in Heaven isn’t starting off so well.
I sit there for a while longer, at a loss. Finally I turn away from the computer and open the leather-bound notebook. I reach for a pen. Maybe a more tactile form of writing will help me get the words out.
I uncap the pen and look down at the notebook. My pen hovers over the blank page as I try, once again, to think of the words to express the brilliant idea I just had.
Once again, nothing happens.
Time passes. I don’t know how much time. Maybe hours. Maybe days. It’s a little hard to keep track. After a while, I hear the door open behind me. I turn around and see the guide who brought me here gliding across the room.
“How’s it going in here?” He asks cordially.
“Not great, actually,” I admit. “I keep getting these great ideas, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts onto paper. I had ADHD when I was alive, so this kind of thing used to happen to me a lot, but I wouldn’t have expected a flaw like that to still exist in Heaven.”
The guide’s smile remains in place, but his eyes narrow, making the whole of his expression seem all at once much more sinister.
“Who told you this was Heaven?”
In an instant his white robes turn deep red, his nice straight teeth become pointed, horns materialize from his forehead, and a tail appears from the back of his robes. The room darkens and the white mist around us dissolves into crackling flames, revealing a hard, bare floor and rough rock walls.
Deep, malicious laughter erupts from the guide, who I now see for what he truly is—the devil. He bends down close, his mouth an inch away from my ear.
“You’re in Hell,” he whispers. “And this is your own personal torment—a perfect writing space, perfect ideas, but a total inability to get the words from your head into print. You’ll be stuck at this desk for eternity, always just a hair’s-breadth away from finding the right words, your greatest ideas always just out of your reach.”
I sit in stunned silence, and the devil cackles.
“Welcome to day one of your own personal Hell,” he says.
Then he leaves, and I am alone once again. For the next few days, I sit at my desk, trying in vain to fill the empty pages and blank Word documents in front of me. The devil visits me once a day; I learn that these visits are mandatory—he has to check on every inhabitant of Hell on a daily basis to ensure they’re all suffering in whatever personal prisons he’s created for them.
He loves to gloat. He strides in each day, eyes dancing with gleeful malice, grips the back of my chair, and leans over my shoulder.
“What are you working on today?” He taunts me, staring intently at the blank screen. “Ooh, even more nothing than yesterday! Why, I think this is your best lack of work yet!”
After a week, I’m sick of it. To Hell with the rules (pun very much intended). If I could work through writer’s block in my previous life, I can do it in this one, too.
I suddenly sit up straight, struck by this revelation that feels simultaneously revolutionary and incredibly obvious—if I could work through writer’s block in my previous life, I can do it in this one, too.
“You absolute moron,” I mutter to myself. “You have experience with this exact thing. You spent your whole life figuring out how to get around it. You’ve got a whole arsenal of ways to deal with this kind of mental blockage.”
I think hard, calling to mind the things I used to do to beat writer’s block when I was alive. My main method involved saying my ideas out loud before I ever sat down to write. I used to walk around describing the story idea out loud, as if explaining it to an imaginary audience. I used to verbalize the dialogue to figure out how the characters would talk, to make sure every line sounded true to their voices.
I leap up from my chair and begin walking around my cell, muttering names and places and bits of dialogue.
“That’s it!” I exclaim suddenly. I race back to the computer and quickly type up everything I just said—verbalizing it made it much easier to string together the right words.
Once it’s all typed up, it gets easier to revise it and make it better, and before long, I’ve got a whole short story typed up. I grin and lean back in my chair, stretching my arms behind my head and looking at the screen with a satisfied smile.
I spend the rest of the day walking around, talking to myself about all of my story ideas, just like I used to. Every so often I dash back over to the desk and write down a particularly good paragraph or bit of dialogue.
When the devil comes around for his daily visit, I grin and hand him a manuscript.
“What’s this?” he asks, leafing through the pages dubiously.
“Oh, y’know,” I say with a casual air, turning my back to him. “Just a story I wrote.”
I glance over my shoulder and see his eyebrows go up in surprise. He quickly reads through the first page, then looks up at me, eyes burning. “This is impossible.”
“Apparently not,” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. Inwardly, I’m absolutely giddy at having gotten the best of my tormentor for once.
“You’re not supposed to be able to do this,” he says, shaking the manuscript emphatically. “Your brain is supposed to be caught in an endless state of mental blocks and frustration. You’re supposed to be at a loss for words for all eternity!”
I round on him. “Listen fuckwit, I’ve got ADHD. I’ve been dealing with these exact writing conditions my whole life. You think I haven’t developed ways to manage this shit?”
The devil’s face contorts into a twisted expression of rage for a moment. Then his features soften and he becomes calm again.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says coolly, handing me back my manuscript. “You have no way of publishing any of your work. No one will ever read it.”
He laughs and turns to leave, but I grab him by his tail and jerk him back towards me.
“Have a seat, then,” I say. “You’re the only one here? Fine. Sit down and shut up—you just became my audience.”
I smooth out my manuscript and begin reading aloud. The devil sits and listens with a scowl as I read him a story about heroes prevailing and good ultimately triumphing over evil. Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, he stands up and stalks out of the room.
“See you tomorrow!” I wave to him cheerfully.
For the next week, every time the devil comes around to my cell, I read him bits and pieces of stories I’m writing. I always choose the parts I know he’ll hate the most—characters finding hope in the midst of darkness and despair, lovers finally having happy reunions after fighting against unbeatable odds, people conquering their own personal demons and coming out of it stronger on the other side.
Finally the devil cracks.
“All right!” He relents on the seventh day, snatching the manuscript from my hands just as I open my mouth to read it to him. “Give me that. I’ll send it to the mortal realm to be published. Just…stop making me listen to it.”
“And you’ll do the same with all my writing?” I ask him, clasping my hands behind my back and smiling sweetly.
“Yes,” he growls. “Anything to stop you from reading it to me.”
“We’ve got a deal,” I say, holding out my hand. With a sigh, he shakes the offered hand, and stalks out of the room to take my manuscript to the interdimensional mailroom.
“Yes!” I exclaim, pumping my fist triumphantly. “I’ve made the devil my publisher, but more importantly, I’ve made him my bitch!”
My writing really takes off back in the mortal world. The devil is pretty pissed about it. He even tries to get me transferred up to Heaven, but I tell him that if Heaven doesn’t have a writing desk for me, I’d rather just stay here.
And that’s the story of how I conquered my own personal Hell.
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venicebixch · 3 months ago
Can we pleaseee get a DDLG smut?
Look at Me
i’ve gotten a few requests for a DDLG smut so here it is. i’m maybe breaking out of my writers block finally but i’ve been struggling lately so hopefully this is decent - of course there are DDLG themes, so if that makes you uncomfortable then please don’t read. i’m personally not comfortable with actual age regression in this context but i hit strongly on a daddy kink and there is use of language such as “little girl” as well as some crying/angst but also lots of fluff. i was gonna make this a lot dirtier but the fluff came easier so i went with it. enjoy!
With his hand wrapped around her wrist, he pulls her to the bedroom and shuts the door behind them. Her heart is beating fast, nervous for what’s going to come next since she decided to be a brat all day. It’s not like she wanted to, she’s just been frustrated lately with how busy he’s been lately and felt jealous that he’s been spending more time with his friends than with her. 
He pulls her to the bed, and makes her sit on the edge of it, not saying a word as he looks down at her. He’s angry, that’s for sure. Maybe even disappointed, but she’s more worried about the first emotion. She frowns, trying her best to look remorseful and the look on her face doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He lets out a small chuckle, wrapping his hand around her chin. “Don’t look at me like that, baby.” 
“Like what?” She asks innocently, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. If she plays her cards right, she might be able to get him out of his bad mood and make him all soft hearted for her with a few bats of her lashes and a pouty lip. But today she seems to be out of luck when his only response to her get-out–of-trouble tactics is a sarcastic laugh and a harshened grip on her face before he finally lets her go. 
His hands move to his waist, and her stomach turns. If there’s one thing he’s conditioned her to know, it’s to be afraid of that. That rattling of the buckle as he pulls his belt through the loops on his jeans. She swallows and the tears start to flow. “Please don’t! I swear I’ll be good, I - I didn’t mean to be -” 
“You know the deal,” he cuts her off, folding the belt over in his hands, ready to be used. “For every 10 seconds you argue with me, I add 3 more smacks.”
She stiffens and scoots back on the bed a little, blinking the tears from her eyes to try to clear her blurry vision. “But I wasn’t even trying to be -” 
“8…” he starts to count. 
He bites back his disappointment with her, hoping she’d put up more of a fight to give him an excuse to draw this out with how she’s been acting. He nods and waves his hand for her to move forward. “Stand up, pull your pants down.” 
She scoots forward, placing her feet on the ground and slowly pulls her pants down, being sure to keep the waterworks going as much as possible with exaggerated sniffles hoping he’d change his mind. Once her pants are off, she looks up at him. 
“Panties too.” 
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, frustrated that she’s getting nowhere with him, but she complies and pulls her underwear down. She brings her hands in front of her to keep herself covered below the waist as he sits on the edge of the bed himself now and patting his lap, silently guiding her to lay over his knees. 
She bends over him, gripping the sheets in front of her to brace herself for the first strike. The sudden feeling of his hand on her ass makes her flinch and yelp and he laughs. “S’just my hand,” he says, a mocking tone hidden in his voice. 
“Just get it over with, please,” she begs, burying her face into the bed. 
“All this fuss for a few spankings,” he snickers. He pushes her legs apart and runs his hand between her thighs, feeling the pooling wetness. “You’re wet? You’re not supposed to enjoy this.” 
“I don’t,” she squeaks out. 
“You’re lying, brat. And you can try to get away with it but your body doesn’t lie, princess,” he smiles. She feels him hardening under her stomach, and she can’t help but feel a little betrayed at how he could be turned on by her tears and pleads - and how her own body seems to enjoy this more than she wants to.
“You know what? Get up,” he says suddenly.
Her face twists in confusion and she looks back at him. Maybe she is getting through to him. She bites back a smile, and moves to her knees beside him and he stands, grabbing the bottom hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head, leaving her completely naked on the bed.  
“You’re such a gross little girl,” he says. She can see the disappointment on his face and her heart sinks at his words. 
“Getting turned on by your daddy spanking you?” He lifts his shirt over his head and pulls his pants down. “That’s gross.” 
She gasps and feels her face flush hot with embarrassment. “But you always say -” 
“Shhh,” he hushes her. “I know it’s my fault. All those times I spoiled you, let you get your way. From the first time you came crying to me about your aching cunny and you spread those legs for me, so precious and sweet,” he climbs on the bed, laying her back. “I just haven’t been able to say no to you, not once. Now it’s all you think about, huh princess?” 
“Mhmm,” she nods, looking up at him. His weight pushes her further into the mattress as he lays against her, pressing his lips to the sweet spot on her neck. Her arms and legs wrap around him like it’s basic instinct now as she embraces his warmth. 
“Turned my little girl into a cock hungry slut,” he smiles against her skin and runs his tongue across her neck, making her body shudder. “It’s my fault. That’s probably why you’ve been so mean lately, isn’t it? Daddy not making you feel good enough? Not giving you enough attention?” 
His words stir up her emotions and a burning feeling spreads through her chest and down to her stomach as she starts to cry again, harder this time. Sobs and hiccups spill from her throat and she grips him harder. “I’ve been so lonely, you work so much!”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t mean to be, you know that. I have to work, though, so I can spoil you with everything you want.” 
“I just want you,” she whispers. “Just you.”
“Aww, I love you,” he says softly, peppering her face with kisses. “I love you,” kiss “I love you,” kiss “I love you,” kiss.
“I love you too,” she squeezes him tighter. 
“Look at me, baby,” he tilts her chin up. “I’m gonna take care of you. Always. I promise.��� 
“I know,” she nods with a tiny smile.
He smiles and pushes his hand between her thighs, spreading her legs apart and brushing his thumb against her clit. “You feeling needy, princess? Hmm?” 
“Yeah,” she breathes, closing her eyes. 
“What do you need? 
A soft groan leaves her mouth and her hands grip his biceps hard, leaving indents of her nails in his skin. “Wanna play with you, daddy.” 
“Like this?” He slides a finger inside her and leans down to kiss her stomach. 
Suddenly it feels like all her blood is pulled to her face. Heat rushes through her body making it feel like it’s 10° warmer in the house, and a high moan slips through her lips. “Yeah,” she barely manages to whisper. 
His mouth opens wider against her, dragging his tongue from the middle of her stomach down to her hips - an agonizingly slow pace that sends ripples of pleasure down her spine. 
He smiles, using his free hand to grip her thigh and hold her steady as she wiggles under his touch. He positions his face between her thighs, still running his tongue along the way until he’s right over her clit. “Mm fuck, I won’t ever get enough of you, my pretty girl,” he smiles up at her, admiring the way she looks from this angle; her heavy breathing and parted lips, that precious little smile spread across her face with her tongue pressed against the back of her top row of teeth as she waits for him to do more. Truly a sight he’ll never get tired of. 
He pushes his tongue flat against her core, letting his breath come out hot as he works her and holding pressure right over the spot that makes her legs shake every time - and just like turning on a switch, she starts to vibrate. She whines at the overwhelming feeling, her legs wrap around his head like she never wants is to stop but the upper half of her starts to pull away from him. 
“Stop moving,” he says. “Thought you wanted this?” 
“I - it’s,” she moans, squeezing her eyes shut. 
His smile returns, this time with more sinister thoughts. “It’s what?” He taunts, sliding his finger inside of her and going right back to the spot that makes her shake before she can answer. 
“S’too much,” she breaths. She grips the bed beside her, knuckles turning white against the sheets as she tries to buckle down and take what he gives her. She did ask for this after all, she can’t complain now. 
Knowing he’s got her right where he wants her, he picks up his pace, feverishly going at her while curling his finger right against that spongy spot inside and within no time, she’s tumbling over the edge with incoherent cries mixed with moans. 
He draws it out for as long as possible, and even when he thinks she’s done, he keeps going until she’s begging for him to stop - only then does he finally pull away, letting her breathe and relax. 
It doesn’t last long, though, before he’s back on top of her, letting his weight sit heavy over her body. “Open,” he says softly, bringing his thumb to her lips. She looks up at him with the best doe eyes and drops her mouth, knowing exactly what he wants to do. 
He smiles down at her, pleased with himself at how well he’s got her willing to do just about anything he asks. He spits, letting it drop on her tongue before he pushes his thumb in her mouth to suck on. “Swallow,” he coaxes. 
She swallows, taking her time to run her tongue along this thumb and smile back at him, then opens to show him she did what he asked. 
“Good girl, baby.”
She giggles, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around him, so tired now she feels like she could fall asleep right here. But the kisses he’s pressing along her collarbone keep her alert. 
Noticing how dazed she is, he chuckles. “Don’t quit on me yet, honey. We haven’t even gotten to the best part,” he teases, running his tongue across her ear. “I love you.” 
“I love you, too,” she coos back at him.
He slides his boxers off and pushes her knees to her stomach. “Ready?” He asks, but of course not giving her time to answer as he pushes into her. 
She moans, her body almost resisting it at first from the stimulation but the further he pushes, she relaxes to draw him in until he’s bottomed out. 
“You always fit around me just right, princess,” he groans, pulling out and pushing back in again. He starts with a steady and slow pace, being gentle with her and savoring every bit of her with all his senses; the fruity scent of her freshly washed hair, the heat coming off her body, her soft skin, the whines she’s letting out. It’s all too good.
Moments like this remind him of just how much he really does love her, even when she’s bratty, even if they spend days apart going about their lives. He knows he’ll always find his way back to her, though, and back inside on top of her. She’s his most prized thing in life, the one he’d do absolutely anything for. 
She needs him, too. He never falters in taking care of her physically or emotionally, always seeing right through her facades. It may not be the most accepted thing to say these days and she could never admit it out loud but if she’s deeply honest with herself, she wants nothing more than to exist for him. To be his lover, his friend, whatever he needs. She just wants to be taken care of in return, never having to worry about the burdens of adulthood and being independent. 
She moved her hands up his back, resting them on the nape of his neck as she kisses his cheek. She grinds her hips down to meet his thrusts, her clit rubbing just right against his body every time, leaving her mind stupefied in pleasure. 
As the minutes go on, his pace gets faster and harder, their verbal exchanges fall away to slurred words and moans until they both fall out, making her clench around him to milk him of every last bit of his release. 
“Ahh, fuck, daddy. It’s so good,” she moans, throwing her head back and scratching her nails down his back. After a few more groans from him, he all but collapses on top of her, both of them sweaty and breathing heavy. 
He pulls his face from her neck and smiles, laying a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling out of her carefully, and bringing her knees together to try to keep what’s inside her from spilling out but it wasn’t quick enough to stop it. His head still dizzied, he can’t help but get entranced at the sight of her like this, looking so pretty laid out for him and helplessly clinging to his hand on her knee. 
He bites his lip and uses his finger to push what came out back inside and closes her legs tighter before turning her on her side and nuzzling behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He brings his fingers to her mouth. “Clean em off,” he says softly, pushing them past her lips. 
She opens without hesitation, sucking his fingers clean and pulling them back out with a small pop and a smile. 
He chuckles and kisses her temple. “Good, baby. Did you get what you needed?”
“Mhmm,” she nods, pushing her back against his body. “Thank you.”
“‘You’re welcome, sweet girl. Told you I’ll always take care of you.” 
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choco-pudding · 3 months ago
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Space Channel 5 Part 2 Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book p.008-013 and 020-021 (Translation by @lavoszero and myself. Edit by myself)
Please excuse the excessive amounts of typefaces, that’s just how this book is. My favorite details are Noize saying he’ll tell them secrets so long as they keep it to themselves only for it to be published in a book and that fact that Ulala’s white outfit is just her normal orange one inside-out.
Edit: Fixed a typo. Noize says their usual rating aren’t that spectacular on page 10.
Imgur Link
Plain text below
Noize's Evaluation: Rumors & Impressions of Co-workers As I said before, my main job is being the operator for “Ulala’s Swingin’ Report Show.” The other day Channel 5 was in the spotlight due to the Morolian Invasion… hmm. Well, I guess things here haven’t changed much. Anyway, since we were directly and deeply involved with the Rhythm Rogues Incident, I’ll of course cooperate with investigation. I'll give you some facts about my co-workers and even tell you some secrets about them that aren’t directly related to the case as long as you keep it to yourself. I'll tell you everything I know.
Ms. Ulala. Like me, she's part of the Special Report Team as the lead reporter. She gives it her all every day 'cause she wants to be the best reporter in the galaxy. She often plays dumb to hide her true anxieties, I get the impression that she acts like a big goofball to cover her outburst of feelings, her resolve must be strong. She always wears headphones so sometimes when I try to talk to her, I get an “ah?” as a reply instead… I know some other details about her, too. She was born on May 30th, 2477 at 1:18 AM and is 22 years old. Blood type is B. Favorite food is space peking duck. Just between us, she gets pumped up and excited whenever she sees Mr. Jaguar.
Level: 00 004 Left Up Chu Chu Chu
Chief Space Michael You know Space Michael, the super star that rocked the galaxy? Since Blank left after the Morolian Invasion scandal, we requested Space Michael to become our new Chief. You can say Space Michael my ultimate boss! He gives the Special Report Team direct instructions! He usually stays at the headquarters, it seems that he doesn’t to dance as a much as he wants anymore, I feel kinda bad or rather I apologize for that. That being said, I frequently see him chatting with other staff members in the staff cafeteria (laughs).
Director Fuse The Special Report Team's director, in other words, my boss. There is this kinda old-fashioned TV man-like vibe to him. He's an electrifying person with lots of skill and talent but true to his name, once he blows his fuse, he can be pretty scary. Sometimes when he's giving Ms. Ulala instructions from the Astrobeat, I catch him acting differently from his normal behavior and instead acting flamboyantly… Ah, that's right. Maybe Mr. Fuse doesn't like to be photographed—I don't have any photos of him—so I asked Ms. Ulala to draw a portrait of him. Ah… this isn't Mr. Fuse… these are actual fuses. Ms. Ulala… this is way too literal.
Level: 00 005 Up Down Up Down Chu Chu Chu
Noize's Evaluation: Space Broadcasting is Really Fierce 1
Channel 5 only stands out because off all the incidents around us that happen by chance, our usual ratings aren’t that spectacular. I guess it can't be helped (laughs). It’s been about 100 years since the first space channel launched, (Pine’s note: Space channels can distribute broadcasts over approximately 1.5 million light-years in diameter through the use of the dimensional curve) and now we’re in the multi-channel age with about 300 of them. Man, Channel 01 really had a big impact. It's a smorgasbord now. I’m relieved only a few stations have special news programs. Well, specifically…
Space Channel 5 First is Channel 5. Well, it's pretty run of the mill, a long-established and comprehensive station in the Space Broadcasting industry. A long time ago it used to be popular but right now… not so much. There isn’t anything that really stands out. That’s why we want to get it back on track with our Special Report Team.
Space Channel 5 Trade Name: Space Broadcasting Station Co. No. 05 Number of Employees: 1,234 (as of 2499) Work Motto: Be a pioneer in the space age.
Level: 00 006 Up Down Up Down Chu Chu Chu
Underground Pirate Broadcasting System   A group that broadcasts all over the galaxy through guerrilla-like tactics on their Space Pirate Broadcasting Ship, Bad Tuning. All the staff members are Space Pirates. The leader, um! I'm not sure but I think it's Mr. Jaguar. Naturally, they don't have a broadcasting license.
Underground Pirate Broadcasting System Trade Name: None Number of Employees: Unknown Work Motto: We are the ones who reveal the truth.
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[Edit and translator’s note: the space pirate’s motto is the same line that Jaguar says in Japanese before fighting Ulala (真実を伝えるのは我々だ). A more official translation would be “We are the voices of truth,” or “We’re here to uncover the truth.”]
Noize's Evaluation: Space Broadcasting is Really Fierce 2
Space Channel 42 Channel 42 has been gaining popularity among the younger generation ever since it changed its focus on being a “Music Company” six years ago. It also seems that they’re focusing on publishing music. After Pudding became its idol, it was no longer a small company.
Space Channel 42 Trade Name: Space Channel Company 42 Number of Employees: 788 (as of year 2499) Work Motto: Contribute to the future with unique creations
Pudding’s Bike
Space Channel 88 Trying to differentiate itself from others, this station incorporates the latest technology in its broadcasts. For instance, it was the first station to invent a robot reporter installed with a super AI before anyone else as to stay ahead of rival stations. It’s a relatively small business but still big in the industry. Personally, I like this station.
Space Channel 88 Trade Name: Space Broadcasting Station Co. No. 88 Number of Employees: 500 (as of 2499) Work Motto: Be ahead of the universe with the latest technology.
88Man’s Bike
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Moro Chan 5 I don’t… I don’t think this is a real station. Since the people of Earth are in charge of alien affairs, after everything settled down they allowed the Morolians to stay in their UFOs and obtain a broadcasting license in accordance to regulation laws. Even though in actuality, they just wanted one to "play" with Space Channel 5's broadcasting equipment.
Moro Chan 5 Trade Name: Alien Corporation Employment Association Number of Staff: 10? Comment: Television is interesting, Moro.
[Translator’s notes: “Maru” is part of Japanese ship naming conversations and is also a pun on the ships appears being very round, which “maru” also means]
Space Channel 01 I think you know this already, but this is the station that manages Space Broadcasting. Maybe because it's such a role model to other stations that there are still many other broadcasts that stick to the basics. "Simple and concise" as they say. I'm surprised with how many new programs are coming out of the blue lately. Mr. Tachibana is their greatest asset.
Space Channel 01 Trade Name: Space Broadcasting Association Number of Employees: 12,680 (as of 2499) Work Motto: Precise information, prompt communication.
Tachibaba’s Bike
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Noize's Evaluation: The Start of the Rhythm Rogues' Attack
It was 9 A.M. On that day, as per usual, we were preparing to broadcast "Good Morning Ulala" which was supposed to start at 5:45 on the Space Symphony's main floor. Afterwards, when "Good Morning Ulala" finished, the Space Broadcasting Association was going to air their program "Space News" at 7 A.M. while we waited for "Good Morning! Go Go Cheerleaders!" to air. We were planning to return to the station at 9 A.M., take a break, and then spend the rest of the afternoon preparing for the "Ulala's Report Show" at 18:30. However, when we just started to begin preparing for "Good Morning Ulala," we got a message (in English) from Chief Space Michael. "A mysterious dance group was spotted flying over the Space Symphony. 
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“Please get the special report team ready and rush to the scene!"… When the Chief’s emergency message got to us, our schedule changed completely. Mr. Fuse quickly got really serious, but Ms. Ulala, who was asleep at the time, hurriedly got up and put her outfit on. You know, she didn't turn it right-side out so that's why her report uniform wasn't orange. The distance between our headquarters and the Space Symphony was only about 3 hours away, so that's why the Astrobeat was able to get there in just a few minutes. I wasn't sent out, so behind the scenes I quickly got the new white uniforms accessories that the station sent for a spring festival so she could hurry and change into it. By the time Ms. Ulala and I arrived at the Space Symphony, the security system wasn't working anymore, and what was waiting for us in the lounge was—
Good Morning Everyone!
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