#not sure if they’ll end up together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swordmaid · 2 months

Text

which is also why I think - in a vengeance shri’iia au where she ends up as astarion’s spawn and he inevitably gets tired of her bc he has all the power in the world and he can have anything and anyone he wants and everything is his for the taking - when she inevitably turns from his ‘eternal lover’ to just his ‘first spawn’ - she will be sooo amy gone girl about it.

like she’s devoting her oath and her entire life to him, he doesn’t get to change that. he’s not allowed to change even. she will do everything in her power and she will even set fire to them both if he tried to change. like he’s making a mistake that she’s rectifying! she lives to serve, and if he doesn’t want her servitude that means there’s something that’s not right and she will personally correct that. like he doesn’t need to worry about anything ofc - worrying doesn’t look good on him let her fix what needs to be fixed. she is such a good lover after all. it doesn’t compute to her that she’s going to be replaced. like it literally doesn’t make sense, not when he promised her eternity. so when he starts looking at someone else, when he starts to favor someone else and lavish them with his attentions and praise she will get rid of them because he’s getting distracted! and he doesn’t need distractions! and when he gets mad at her she will forgive his transgressions and soothe that anger away - he doesn’t need anymore wrinkles. and she will know about every little lie he says and hold them close to her chest then recite it back to him when she gets rid of another one of his new favourites. and when he tries to kill her she’ll do the same thinking it’s some game or courtship - this is how it was back in menzoberranzan after all! the fact that he was willing to learn her traditional courtship is so sweet 🥰. and maybe she’ll scare him even, so he can learn what fear is again. it’s a good kind of fear bc she’s showing what kind of person she could be so it would be dumb of him to throw her away.

but the thing is! she’s operating out of love and devotion! and they have eternity together! and there’s something sooo sicko yes about how ascended astarion’s first spawn - his first creation - being something that he will eventually resent and fears. bc it would be so much easier if she hated him like how he hated cazador. but she doesn’t. she’s deranged and in love and so obsessive about that love to the point where it literally can not be changed - and he can’t change it or manipulate it. what was once useful to him became a detriment. their love turning so sick and rotten, like a leftover apple, and she becomes a nuisance that he can’t get rid of, and he’s stuck with that nuisance for eternity. he eventually realises what a mistake it was seducing her back then when they had those tadpoles in their heads, when they had that strange freedom. like if he knew things would turn out like this, and she was actually this kind of person, maybe he would’ve done things differently but instead he’s stuck with her for eternity.

and I do think he’ll try to kill her lmfao I mean he’s a vampire lord and she’s just a fucking spawn so he’ll get rid of her once he gets bored and annoyed, but she thinks it’s some game between them so she’ll try to get him too - not kill him ofc but just close enough to scare him and remind him that she does bite even before the vampire teeth. I mean before him, she was literally a drow high priestess’/matron mother’s trained hound.

anyway I really love the idea of them being miserable with each other lmfaoo and I think she will be so miserable as a spawn actually and the moment when she potentially gets replaced something is gonna break inside of her bc it’ll just like before when she broke her oath. but she won’t be that bewildered and confused girl again, nope. she’s not going to accept it this time, she refuses! she doesn’t get to be the only miserable one, he doesn’t get to win..!!!

#they’d be so rancid together im like sicko yes ..‼️‼️#anyway I think it’ll be very late down the years when he gets tired of her but he WILL ! like I’m sure of it #but she won’t allow it 🫶 like he doesn’t get to do that #he’s not allowed. even. and then they’ll clash and he’ll hate her 🫶 but she forgives him every time !#he doesn’t mean it after all. it’s just one his moods and she knows him SO well. and it’s this cycle of resentment and mindfuck and love #and a whole fucking eternity of that loool #anyway that kind of toxicity def needs to be contained rip to the new spawns who gets caught up in that fuckery #like she’s still a paladin so she has an innate power advantage over the vamps since they’re undead #but now I’m wondering how would a vamp paladin work lmfao #she’s literally willing to smite and kill herself if it meant smiting him also like you don’t understand she will drag him down to hell #with her if it meant they go together. it doesn’t matter if he wants to or not 😭#she is really so deranged the best possible ending for her is to take all that energy and focus it on herself not someone else 😭#bc she’s the only one who can handle it you know ..!!! hence why I think spawn astarion/vengeance shri’iia wouldn’t work either bc she’ll #be too much for him like you can’t fix her…! she can only fix herself if she wanted to ..!#shut up about bg3.

6 notes · View notes

theworld-accordingtocasey · 9 months

Text

So what you’re saying is, Haechan is STILL, yet again, not gonna have a chance to give his body a break

#nct #I know we’re in a time crunch before next year since I reckon illie will be enlistig & sm wants the whole gang together at least once #but for fucks sake #can’t it be a couple months from now?!#like will there be new songs too or just the big ass concert? um assuming they’ll add more dates later too cus that’s what sm does 🙄#he is NOT okay #mark is exhausted too I’m sure but my god how many times are they gonna push haechan to perform without recovery time!!#THEY HAVE LEARNED NOTHING #we’ve seen this movie before #& mark isn’t on a timeline since he won’t have to enlist so let my man breathe #they’re gonna let him work himself until he finally ends up hospitalized!! it’s like “he seems ok” I’m worried he’ll have a total meltdown #matter of fact #HOW has he not alr had a breakdown jfc! I don’t mean the kind where he hides it from fans & gets comfort from the members or parents #& be a hermit for a few days until he can convince himself he’s fine I mean one of the BIG ONES where we end up seeing him bawling him the #side of a stage or something & the company has to release a hiatus statement #or worse #:(#it scares me #side note #:#aND WHAT ABOUT THE SONS WITH SUNGTARO?? nothing about this feels well-planned out #obligatory #“#fuck sm #”#/end rant

5 notes · View notes

chryzure-archive · 1 year

Text

also, not to spoil my future novels i hope to publish, but the chryzure novels will end on a note where it’s like. the story’s run ends with them hopeful. they are together now, hey are happy. but the curse is not broken. they don’t know how to break it. they know this life will end jst as tragically as all the others, but does it matter anymore? they’re happy now. they’ll be happy again. the deaths and tears and pain are going to happen nonetheless, but they always find each other and squeeze all the good from that life that they can. they don’t know what they’ll do once the lives are over. what does a happy ending feel like? and why does it terrify them more than their reincarnation cycle?

#something something the happy ending is the most terrifying part of this all #it will be The End. they won’t be in new circumstances where they fall in love all over again #because while the tragedies are agonizing—the beauty of falling in love with each other balances it all out #what does happiness feel like without the pain? surely it doesn’t have the same meaning #and yet that’s the thought process of someone too frightened to do something that will improve their life #bc their happy ending won’t be a total ending. they’ll die and then they’ll be together in the afterlife and they won’t be separated again #jst two kitties curling up in the sun together and napping and they aren’t scared anymore <333 #memorie.txt #s.chryzure #definitelt got possessed by the chryzure demon again..

4 notes · View notes

vitos-ordination-song · 4 months

Text

#it’s happening!!!!!#I’ve been hoping for lesbian action since p early on but I didn’t think I would get it #not sure they’ll end up together but look #it’s a well developed relationship between women #that’s really all I ask for

0 notes

osaemu · 4 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone.

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically.

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short.

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.”

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties.

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks.

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you.

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below.

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him.

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth.

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling.

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible.

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear.

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer.

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states.

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump.

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.”

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

12K notes · View notes

bratfiction · 7 months

Text

18+ CONTENT — MDNI

lazy days with simon. sitting on top of his strong thighs while he’s sat on the couch, your back perfectly pressed to his front. the scent of his cologne and musk is enough to make your body feel fuzzy, combined with the warmth that radiates off of him and onto you. you missed this.

he’s not exactly paying attention to you; his eyes stay fixed on the television, watching a boring documentary he insisted putting on. the perfect background noise while his warm, rough giant hands squeeze and rub your hips, pulling you into him as close as you can possibly be before his palms trail up and up and grasp your jaw. your head is forced to the side to meet him in a slow, needy kiss. you can taste the burnt nicotine lingering on his lips and tongue.

you’re not sure how exactly it happens as your brain becomes clouded, but two thick fingers end up in your mouth, pressing down on your soft tongue until you’re left drooling all over your chin for a moment. your eyebrows furrow as your glossy eyes find simon’s own, twinkling with the same mischief they always do when you’re together. the digits remain in your mouth, hefty and bulky while your lips wrap around them. he has the nerve to hum in approval.

“there’s my girl,” he grunts out, biting back a groan over the feel of your tongue rubbing up on the pads of his fingers alone. it’s been awhile since he’s been back home, since he’s been able to savor these not so innocent moments, “suck ‘em real good and maybe they’ll end up in your panties.”

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.COD #simon riley smut #ghost smut #call of duty smut #cod smut

4K notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 2 months

Text

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

2K notes · View notes

nasa · 8 months

Text

The Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s flight harness is transferred from the mock-up structure to the spacecraft flight structure.

Your Body is Wired Like a NASA Space Telescope. Sort Of.

If our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope were alive, its nervous system would be the intricate wiring, or “harness,” that helps different parts of the observatory communicate with one another. Just like the human body sends information through nerves to function, Roman will send commands through this special harness to help achieve its mission: answering longstanding questions about dark energy, dark matter, and exoplanets, among other mind-bending cosmic queries.

Roman’s harness weighs around 1,000 pounds and is made of about 32,000 wires and 900 connectors. If those parts were laid out end-to-end, they would be 45 miles long from start to finish. Coincidentally, the human body’s nerves would span the same distance if lined up. That’s far enough to reach nearly three-fourths of the way to space, twice as far as a marathon, or eight times taller than Mount Everest!

An aerial view of the harness technicians working to secure Roman’s harness to the spacecraft flight structure.

Over a span of two years, 11 technicians spent time at the workbench and perched on ladders, cutting wire to length, carefully cleaning each component, and repeatedly connecting everything together.

Space is usually freezing cold, but spacecraft that are in direct sunlight can get incredibly hot. Roman’s harness went through the Space Environment Simulator – a massive thermal vacuum chamber – to expose the components to the temperatures they’ll experience in space. Technicians “baked” vapors out of the harness to make sure they won’t cause problems later in orbit.

Technicians work to secure Roman’s harness to the interior of the spacecraft flight structure. They are standing in the portion of the spacecraft bus where the propellant tanks will be mounted.

The next step is for engineers to weave the harness through the flight structure in Goddard’s big clean room, a space almost perfectly free of dust and other particles. This process will be ongoing until most of the spacecraft components are assembled. The Roman Space Telescope is set to launch by May 2027.

Learn more about the exciting science this mission will investigate on X and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #astronomy #telescope #Roman Space Telescope #engineering #space hardware #dark energy #dark matter #space #technology #tech #universe

4K notes · View notes

rosiesroseas · 1 year

Text

bf!suna who has an album of you filled with pics and the often stupid videos he takes when he’s feeling silly with you.

bf!suna who has a video of him standing behind you whilst you’re reading a book on the couch and his hand is in the video, faking a jerking off motion to you til you notice and then he releases his hand like he just finished.

bf!suna who has a video of you sleeping where your shirt has ridden up that your boobs are so close, if you stir in your sleep again they’ll, for sure, pop out. and in the video is another stupid clip of his hand, shaking madly while he gently (and reluctantly) pulls your shirt down, hand still shaking like it’s the hardest thing to do.

bf!suna who has another video of you sleeping and he’s just poking your cheeks softly, occasionally pinching them as well.

bf!suna who has a video of him creeping up behind you while you’re doing the dishes and he proceeds to cup your ass while bouncing it in his hand “hey everyone, back with another, this time featuring my girlfriends ass—with a review!” You obviously proceeded to wet him with the dirty sink water (he’s done this before, many, many times.)

bf!suna who has a video of you drunk and crying to the ending of coco while clinging to his side. his lips are pursed together while he’s giving you the nastiest yet nonchalant side eye, nodding once and a while to your complains, “this boys family is a menace Rin! Can you believe that?”

bf!suna who has a video of you squashed to his chest because your shirt is off out of annoyance to the heat of summer. You were bathing in the new chill of having no shirt that you didn’t notice he’s taking a video of him cheering silently while your side boob and his side of his chest are in view, mf is cheering like a teenage boy.

bf!suna who has a video of him randomly coming up to you and pressing your foreheads together while he opens his mouth wide in a funny way. You’re grimacing and he’s just in a silly mood to mess with you.

bf!suna who has a video of you walking from the water in your bathing suit, it flips back to him who falsely claims he’s been shot through his actions, “I’ve been shot by sexiness, someone help me,” it cuts after he pretends he’s dead on the sun-chair.

bf!suna who has a video of him after he’s done being your professional photographer. He pretends he’s taking more, going around you while you laugh, “look here, baby, yes! perfect! one more ms. Suna! Give me fierce!” Completely doesn’t care about the public walking past.

bf!suna who has a video of him pretending to be a YouTuber again. He has a cute headband on and a pink face mask on along with you who is busy doing a lip mask,

“hey everybody, welcome back! Today I am venturing into a women’s skin care,” you punched him in the chest playfully, “excuse you, i’m not just a women, thank you very much,”

he chuckled, “right, everyone, this is my beautiful, sexy, caring, and perfect girlfriend #soon-to-be-wife.” (he whispered that to the camera, hoping the songs playing on your speaker was loud enough.)

And finally, bf!suna who has a video of you crying while laughing after he just proposed, your quite literally balling and this mf is just smiling while cradling you to his side, “#soon-to-be-wife !”

bf!suna who just loves those videos so much (and taking more) that he hopes his storage doesn’t run out soon because he’s on his last storage plan.

#haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintarō #haikyuu #haikyuu suna #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna x you #suna x y/n #rosiesroseas

12K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 1 month

Text

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀…

Sukuna

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Sukuna comes to terms with the idea of having a daughter with you.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, double penetration, creampie, pregnancy, slightly ooc but still a misogynist, fluff at the end

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“What the hell are you doing?” Sukuna squints his eyes, looking down at you as you knit something for your baby girl. There’s no way of actually knowing the sex of your baby, but something tells you that you’re expecting a daughter. Sukuna negates the thought, assuring you that you’re carrying a son. He can’t possibly have a daughter, he’s always saying something along those lines.

“Just making a little something for our child.” You inform him, and Sukuna frowns. Your child is not going to wear something so pink because they’ll be a boy, Sukuna is sure of it. He snatches the cloth out of your hand and tosses it.

“Why pink? Are you saying we’re having a girl?” Sukuna questions, and you cross your arms. You look up at your husband, mad that he's tossed your hard work to the side.

“You have pink hair, Suku… Are you a girl?” You cock your eyebrow, and he’s not amused. He crosses both pairs of arms, rolling his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t associate colors with a certain gender because you are right, he does have pink hair… But he also knows that you’re making a pink blanket because you think you’re having a girl.

“Make a blue one.” He orders, and you glare at him. You shake your head in response, you’re not making a blue one. He grits his teeth, grabbing the blanket that he just tossed to the side and shredding your hard work to pieces.

“Keep an eye open tonight, because when you least expect it, I’ll strangle you.” You warn him, and you’re dead serious. It’s clear that you’re carrying his child, you’ve never threatened to kill him before.

“If you even come close to it, I think I’ll fall more in love with you.” He chuckles, walking away, leaving you alone with your own anger. You let out a yell, cursing at him because the twinge of fear that you had for him completely faded a couple of months ago.

He holds no threat to you anymore. Sukuna wouldn’t have done anything to you anyway, since he hates that he loves you so dearly, but the realization that you carry his child and he’ll do no harm to you really gives you much more power and comfort. Sukuna finds humor in a very nonthreatening person, threatening to do something to him; especially when he knows that you can barely lift yourself up anymore.

He knows that you won’t even come close to succeeding in hurting him, and he laughs in amusement at the mere thought. But you’ll get him back, you know you will.

“I thought we were going to spend the day together?” Sukuna asks as he watches you get ready to go out. You never invited him anywhere, so he was shocked to hear that you weren’t at home. He isn’t well liked in public, there’s just something about being huge, having four arms and being extremely scary that people don’t like. Sukuna can kill anyone without a second thought.

“I thought so too before someone ruined the blanket that I was making for my daughter… So I had to get the materials to make it again.” You tell him, and Sukuna nearly gasps when you drop the d word. You’ve always refused to call the baby your daughter since you have no idea what the sex is, but it seems like you use it to piss him off. You click your tongue when you notice his reaction, “What? You’re so overdramatic. You’ve killed for fuck’s sake, why is saying daughter so scary to you.”

“Because we’re having a son!” He yells, getting defensive about it. You don’t understand why he gets upset at the mere suggestion that he’s having a daughter. Before you got pregnant, Sukuna never seemed to care about the gender of a hypothetical baby– Although you shouldn’t be shocked since your husband isn’t exactly the most fair when it comes to different sexes… Sukuna is a misogynist, that’s what you’re trying to get at. He treats all humans with the same disdain, but particularly women. It seems that you’ve forgotten because he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats everyone else.

“Sukuna, we’re having a daughter.” You reiterate, and you watch his eye twitch. You’re doing it to piss him off, he knows it, yet it’s working. “You wanted a baby, Sukuna. You knew there was no guarantee that you’d be having a son, but you still decided that you wanted one. You can’t cry about having a daughter.”

Sukuna takes a deep breath, surprisingly managing his anger well. He decides to leave the room, leaving you alone to do whatever the hell you want. You fuel his anger even more, yelling at him, “And don’t come back until you fix your attitude!”

You stare off into the distance, your hand resting on your bump. You begin to wonder what Sukuna will actually do, and you can’t do anything but hope that he’ll come around to the idea because you know Sukuna. He isn’t good whatsoever, he won’t hesitate to hurt her, even if she’s his own flesh and blood. You’re not sure you could stay by his side if he were to do anything, but you wouldn’t really have any other option either.

You decide to go to sleep, because thinking about it further won’t really help you in any way. You delude yourself, thinking that he’ll come around to the idea.

A large pair of arms wrap around you, waking you up from your slumber. Sukuna does it to try and be romantic, but he nearly suffocates you. You slap his arm, telling him, “Loosen the grip–”

He loosens his grip, which lets you know that he wasn’t trying to kill you. Thankfully. Sukuna would never do anything to harm you, but sometimes you swear you don’t know him much. It’s very rare when you get a heart to heart with Sukuna where he actually talks about him, he usually prefers to listen to listen, and to threaten anyone in the stories that offend you in the slightest.

“Can I say something without you getting mad?” You begin, still half asleep. Sukuna furrows his brows. Due to his lack of answer, you decide to speak, “You’re overreacting.”

“I just don’t know what I’d do with a daughter.” He confesses. He doesn’t know how he’d handle her, how to treat her fairly, how he would– He doesn’t know how he would do anything. He doesn’t know what being a woman entails so he won’t know how to teach her anything. He wants to teach her how to do everything.

“Everything you’d do with a son.” You reply. You really doubt that your child will be raised to have great morals, so there’s no point in really raising them differently. “Sukuna, how will it be different?”

“How will it not be different?” He sounds offended. There’s nothing similar between men and women. Sukuna’s hands go to your bump, his hand caressing it. “But for my heir, I guess I can make an exception.”

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t make a fuss over the possibility of having a daughter?” You ask him, and his silence gives you an answer. Yes, Sukuna is fine with it, as fine as he can be at least.

His hand goes under your nightgown, caressing your thighs. You feel Sukuna kiss the back of your neck, and you squeeze your thighs, his large hand stuck between them. The man rarely touches you nowadays, seeing you as fragile as ever. You don’t know about the sudden change, but you certainly don’t mind.

“What changed in you?” You ask him as his hand goes up to your panties. He pushes them to the side because last time he tore something of yours, you got too mad at him so he’d rather not risk it. His fingers run through your folds before going to your clit, and you bite your bottom lip due to pure excitement.

“Was thinking about how I’d be nothing without you.” He confesses, letting you know that he didn’t come to terms with having a daughter– Sukuna is a man that fears nothing, at least that’s what you thought up until now. He fears losing you. It’s your issue… You’ve never paid attention to the love in his eyes when he speaks to you or about you. Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you mean to him. “Then I remembered how gorgeous you look carrying our son.”

“If you say that again I’ll–” You begin but Sukuna is two steps ahead of you. He pushes two large fingers inside of you. You can’t help but moan, covering your mouth immediately. One of his hands pulls your hand away, even in the dark he knows what you do. After all, you’re not just getting to know him, but he’s getting to know you too.

“Did I tell you to be fucking quiet?” He asks through gritted teeth. You have to be quiet at other times, like when the baby gets here and you risk waking them up. Now, if any of the servants hear, that’s their fucking problem. “Be loud, my love. Remind everyone who you belong to.”

“They know.” You tell him, which is quickly cut off by a moan as his fingers move faster. You feel his thumb graze your asshole, teasing you before he pushes it in. “Suku–”

“You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.” He ends up laughing. You never do because he’s just too much for you to handle. He curves his fingers so they hit your sweet spot. You shut your eyes, quickly succumbing to pleasure. You’ve missed this feeling so much, and he refuses to give it to you.

Sukuna loves when you turn into putty by his touch. It takes practically nothing to work you up, and you begin to squeeze around him. He smirks, knowing that it takes nothing for you to be practically screaming his name. Sukuna speaks into your ear, “Already so excited for me? Do you want more?”

“I need more.” Your voice sounds so demanding and Sukuna laughs. Another hand goes under your nightgown, his fingers focusing on your clit. You loudly moan his name as it all gets too much for you to handle.

“Is it too much?” He mocks you as your orgasm builds up, until you finally reach your peak, your legs shaking. Sukuna takes his fingers out, shoving the fingers that were in your cunt into your mouth, making you gag.

Sukuna lights a candle, providing some light in the room. You sit up, getting on top of him, undoing his robe. Your body yearns for more, and he smirks since he knows it. You lean down, your lips going on his, your tongue entering his mouth and pressing against his own. When you pull away from the kiss, you mutter, “I’ve missed you.”

You raise yourself, aligning the cock on the top with your pussy before slowly pushing yourself down on it. You take a moment to adjust to him since it’s been a while since the last time you’ve fucked her. You begin to bounce on him, and Sukuna spits in his palm, grabbing the cock on the bottom and teasing your asshole with the tip.

Sukuna holds you down when he begins to push the other tip in your asshole. Even though you’re expecting a child together, you’re still loud when he fills both of your holes. It’s too much for you to handle at first, but throughout the time you get used to it.

“Tight little cunt–” He groans, and he never thought that he of all people would end up touch deprived. But then he got too scared to hurt you in any way when you knew you were expecting, so he stuck to… Nothing. To suppress his dirty thoughts.

“Move.” You order, too tired to continue. Sukuna begins to move for you, thrusting slowly in and out of you. He continues at the pace you had set.

“Is it good? You’re making a fucking mess.” He says as he picks up speed. You throw your head back, one hand going down to play with your clit as he thrusts in and out of you.

“It’s so fucking good–” You answer. You’ve been needing this every single fucking night, and you’re lucky to be receiving it now. He’s finally giving into your cravings.

“You just love being filled up like a little slut, don’t you?” Sukuna’s hand goes up from your bump to your mouth, shoving two fingers into your mouth again. He feels the vibration of your moans through your tongue before you begin to twirl your tongue around his fingers.

Sukuna loves the way you take in his cocks, smiling at you at how well you take him– Of course he wouldn’t tell you though. Your hands go to his chest, using it for support as well as subconsciously digging your nails into his skin. It stings for him, but he can’t help but love it.

Sukuna does you a favor, his fingers rubbing your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head,

A second orgasm overtaking you. Sukuna feels you squeezing on both of his cocks, feeling himself get weak.

“Suku–” You loudly moan as you reach your second orgasm. Sukuna mocks you for it.

“What? Can’t handle it?” He asks, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He’s losing control, his thrusts getting sloppy. It’s been so long since the last time he did this– And when he finishes, he fills both of your holes with so much cum, and you swear you’re in heaven because there is no better feeling than this.

When he takes his cocks out, so much cum drips out of you. You end up falling on his chest, him wrapping a pair of large arms around you while another fixes your clothes.

“This is a nice way to apologize for misbehaving.” You comment, and Sukuna scoffs.

“Who said I was apologizing?” Sukuna is frowning, and you lightly smack his face which pisses him off more. He holds your hands so you don’t try to do anything more with them.

“I’ll take it as an apology.” You tell him. Sukuna wants to laugh, but he manages to keep a poker face. He grabs you up by your hair, putting his lips on yours.

“It was not an apology, woman. Shut your mouth.”

Bonus:

You swear that hell is freezing over because what the hell is the scene you’re witnessing. You’ve never seen Sukuna like this… You don’t think you are supposed to see him like this.

“Who’s a headstrong girl?” Sukuna is putting on a baby voice for fuck’s sake. For a daughter that he didn’t want. Your baby girl laughs, and he falls in love all over again. She’s just so fucking perfect– With her little eyes, her little nose, her little mouth, her four little arms, her soft pink hair. She’s everything to him.

“Do you need anything, Sukuna?” You approach them, but Sukuna pays little attention to you. He keeps looking down at his daughter who lays on your bed. She’s in need of a nap but Sukuna doesn’t like putting her to bed because she’s boring then.

“Yeah, how do I order another one of these?” He asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Of what?” You respond, wondering what the hell he talks about.

“Another daughter.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #jujutsu sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna x reader smut

3K notes · View notes

irndad · 1 month

Text

oh, but you're good to me -s.r.

a/n: i continue to not know the word count- but here's pining!spencer x sunshine!reader!! very hozier coded <3

The team has gone out for drinks after a stressful week, and this is a moment where Spencer finds that his willpower does not so easily overpower his desire. They’d chosen a kind of kitsch place, the kind where there’s couches where waitresses could bring you your drink under dimmed lights and music with cozy acoustic music played. Emily and Morgan were comparing conquests at their trip to the club the week prior, Penelope chiming in with warm support on either end. On the opposite table, Hotch and Rossi were discussing criminology in serious, even tones.

And Spencer, well. He was well-occupied.

His best friend is on the team, and he does not say that lightly. She’s earned her place in his heart, as hopelessly romantic as that makes him sound. But she did. He remembers the day he met her, warm tone seeped in patience and understanding.

He remembers the sight of her like its engraved crystal, carved into the basis of his mind. Her delicate features distinct in their warm kindness. She’d offered her hand, shook it and giggled a sweet sound when he’d said it’d be safer to kiss. He’d blushed enough that his lack of flirtation in his intent was clear.

On the jet, that first case, she’d listened to him talk about Russian literature and other obscure topics he couldn’t remember now, because now, all he can recall is the color of her doe eyes meeting him in intention.

He’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

Which, right now, feels a bit like a drug- both painful and exhilarating. She’s a cuddly drunk (only with him, it seems) and he’s got a lanky arm tugged over her shoulder. It’s lovely in a way words vex him, the weight of her against him.

“You look nice today, Spence,” she muses, looking up at him. His heart is going to stop.

“You do too,” he breathes out. This is nice. She’s touchy, and he likes when she touches him. It’s a pleasure, like sipping expensive wine or decadent chocolate, sweet and a little bit sad, because you know you can’t have it forever.

She plays with his scarf, and he is hopelessly endeared by the sight of the fabric in between her delicate fingers.

“This color is nice,” she muses, and god, he wants to kiss her. This a thought Spencer has often, oftentimes at inopportune times. On the jet, in the office, at her house, in the car- always, really.

Except now, no one’s looking at them. If loving her was enough to make her love him back, then he could.

But it isn’t.

He chokes back the emotion rich in his throat. He brushes her hair out of her face, a tender motion that betrays his intentions with her.

“You always look lovely,” Spencer says earnestly. I love looking at you, he thinks.

She smiles back earnestly and warmly.

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that.”

“I always do, when it’s you.”

He doesn’t know why this is what he’s allowed to have. She’s so close to him, pinned up against him and he can feel the curve of her waist against his side. He doesn’t get it, why he’s not her boyfriend but he still gets moments like these, where she’s pinned to him like velcro. He’s addicted to them, really- craves the moments where she falls asleep on his lap on the jet, where they’ll be walking together somewhere and she’ll lace their fingers and tug him along when she’s excited and the destination in sight.

Maybe this is just how she touches her best friends- he tries not to question it, because he doesn’t want to loosest.

But tonight, under the low-light of the bar, shadows of her lashes thrown across the slope of her cheek- he wants to ask her.

“Are you like this with everyone?” He muses. He immediately regrets it, sees her face harden and feels the shift away from him, and the space leaves a gap of cold air. There’s a swoop f nerves in his stomach.

“I don’t know, I think I just thought- you know, we’re like this. We’re touchy, you and me.”

He’s not touchy. Everyone knows this, but she’s the exception to a rule that has held true his entire life. But he loves this, loves the feeling of this.

“I like this,” he says, intentional eye contact trained on her shaking irises. He reaches out and laces their fingers in an act of bravery that rivals some of his most intense moments, “I’m wanting inf you want more of it. Because I do.”

“You do?”

She’s back close to him, now, and he’s so immensely grateful for it. She smells like lilies and her, and this might be the only time he’s brave enough to do something like this.

It turns out he doesn’t have to, because before he can answer, she kisses him. It happens fast, and his response is all instinct- pulling her into him closer, his hands around her waist and her soft sigh into his mouth that threatens to kill him. It’s better than his fantasies at night could have made him expect.

“Hi,” she says, barely above a whisper when she pulls away. She looks a little adorably off-guard, in a way he’d like to create- like to instigate.

“Hi back,” he says, a beaming grin threatening to spread over his face. He tries to memorize the feeling of this, the weight of her in his arms in case this is not something he can keep- he wants to remember it, what it felt like for her to kiss him, to be wanted by her.

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

“Like out of here? It’s kind of cold outside-“

“On a date, Spencer.”

Instead of a response, Spencer kisses her again. It is absolutely the right choice.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

2K notes · View notes

bigskyandthecoldgun · 8 months

Text

based off this post i made a couple days ago lmao

words: 2.1k

Generally speaking, Steve Harrington is a pretty good boyfriend.

He takes Eddie out, never lets him pay for stuff if he can help it—hell, he’s even bought Eddie flowers before. And Eddie’s not complaining, because it’s hard enough to find another queer man in Hawkins, let alone one willing to date him. So Steve is his first boyfriend, and Eddie hasn’t had much (read: any) experience with dating.

But he’s pretty damn sure by the time they hit the three-month mark that Steve’s staunch refusal to hold his hand is unusual.

It’s not like Steve isn’t affectionate. More often than not, Steve’s arm will be around his shoulders or his waist, and there are no shortages of kisses anywhere and everywhere. But Steve won’t hold his hand. And he hasn’t let Eddie give him a handjob. Which—the latter isn’t as much of an issue, because maybe Steve’s just not a fan of handjobs, and that’s fine, Eddie’s not an asshole, Steve’s more than entitled to say no to stuff like that.

Though, Steve’s got no problem putting his hands to work, so what is it about the idea of holding hands or Eddie touching him in the same way that makes Steve so weirdly uncomfortable?

Eddie’s first thought had been that Steve might just not like holding hands. That the clamminess of another palm in his gives him the same kind of sensory ick that Eddie gets from getting adhesive residue on his hands. But Steve holds hands with Robin all the time with no problem, so it can’t be that.

His second thought is that Steve might be so used to being the ‘man in the relationship,’ so to speak, that he doesn’t think Eddie would want to be as handsy. But, again—doesn’t explain the hand holding thing. Because Steve had definitely held hands with girls he’d dated in the past, if Eddie’s high school memories aren’t failing him.

So what the hell is it?

What’s so unthinkable about being touched by Eddie?

And Eddie tries not to read too much into it, because he’s more than aware that both he and Steve have some internalized stuff about being queer, and maybe Steve’s just working through that. He tries not to read too much into it because Steve is a good boyfriend, save for this one weird thing, and maybe they’ll get to a point where Steve will tell him why he doesn’t want to hold hands or have Eddie’s hands on his bare skin for more than a minute or two.

They’re making out on Steve’s couch one night, Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s hands already halfway through undoing the button on Eddie’s jeans. Eddie starts to tug at Steve’s shirt to get it untucked from his jeans. “C’mere, wait, lemme touch you,” Eddie breathes, and Steve grins against his mouth before backing away. Eddie blinks, utterly confused. “What? What is it?”

Steve just laughs, shakes his head, and dives back in for another kiss. “You’re funny,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels a weird tug in his gut, because something’s wrong, and Steve’s acting weird again about Eddie touching him.

He thinks it’s funny.

Thinks it’s funny that Eddie wants to touch him.

Well, firstly, ouch. Secondly, that’s a real jerk move, but he’s torn between telling Steve off and getting off. He ends up going with the better option, because Steve might be acting like a jerk, but he’s a jerk that’s jerking Eddie off, so…better than nothing, Eddie supposes.

He doesn’t bring it up again for another three months, resigning himself to have his hands redirected from Steve’s bare skin and remaining steadfastly un-handheld. And, sure, y’know, he might be able to attribute it to the fact that they spend a lot of time with people who don’t know they’re together yet, but that possibility is quickly eradicated when Steve suggests that they tell the rest of the Party about them.

“You sure you wanna do that?” Eddie asks, brows raised skeptically, because for a guy who won’t hold Eddie’s hand, Steve’s pretty gung-ho about airing their business to the rest of the group.

Steve just tilts his head, a cute little look of confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, like the idea of him not wanting people to know about him and Eddie is crazy. Steve blinks, the confusion turning to concern. “I mean, unless you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you—”

“You can tell them,” Eddie cuts in, fidgeting with his rings. “I’m—yeah. Yeah, you can tell them.”

Maybe this will finally give Steve the push he needs to get over himself and hold Eddie’s goddamn hand before Eddie goes crazy and gets shipped off to Pennhurst.

Or…maybe not.

Because Steve still won’t hold his hand. Or let Eddie touch him.

The one time Eddie had managed to get his hands on Steve’s bare skin, he’d spotted Steve itching at the spots Eddie had touched in the bathroom later that night, the door only open a crack. Which is pretty dramatic, even for Eddie’s taste. Is the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him really so awful? Christ, Eddie’s getting sick and tired of this shit.

Eventually, nine months into their relationship, Steve blatantly moves a hand away from Eddie’s during a movie night when Eddie tries to take hold of it. In front of their friends. Eddie sucks up his wounded pride and corners Nancy in the kitchen later, after the first movie is over and they’ve been sent to get snacks while Steve and Robin argue over what movie to play next, wondering if he should even be asking her.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, because he hasn’t come up with anything to start with yet, and Eddie sighs.

“Is—okay, did Steve ever—when you guys were dating, did he ever, like, not hold your hand?” he asks, and Nancy tilts her head.

“I mean, sometimes…? It was only because I was wearing rings, though,” she says, like that makes perfect sense, like Steve just has some ring-phobia or something, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Nancy gives him a little smile. “You wear yours all the time, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

Okay, so, weird ring-phobia it is.

That’s the new working theory, and when he and Steve bunk in Steve’s room for the night, Eddie makes a show of carefully pulling his rings off and setting them on the bedside table. There’s a couple of green marks on his fingers where the clear nail polish he’d coated the interiors in has chipped away, and he rubs at his bare fingers absentmindedly as he climbs under the covers. He takes a deep breath and laces his fingers with Steve’s, ready to have Steve pull his hand away for the umpteenth time.

Instead, he’s met with a surprised, pleased little hum. “You took your rings off,” Steve notes, relief clear in his voice, and Eddie nods, trying not to let the feeling of triumph show on his face too much. Steve grins at him and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “That’s a nice surprise.”

“What, you don’t like my rings?” Eddie teases, keeping the genuine curiosity in his voice to a minimum, and Steve’s brows furrow.

“What? No, no, I love your rings, Eds,” Steve tells him. He lowers his voice. “I think they’re pretty hot, actually.”

Okay. Okay, so a wrench has been thrown into the ring-phobia theory.

“What, are they too cheap for his majesty’s royal fingers?” Eddie jokes, putting on a goofy, poorly-done British accent, and Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly.

“I mean, they are costume jewelry,” Steve says. “Nickel-plated, right?”

Ah.

So…it’s that Eddie looks, or even feels, too cheap.

Jesus. He hadn’t thought Steve would be that shallow.

Eddie swallows. “Uh, yeah, they—they are. I can stop wearing them, if you…” he trails off, not really sure what to do with this new information. Cheap to the touch, apparently enough to make Steve wrinkle his nose at the thought of Eddie touching him with his rings on.

“What? No, no, you don’t have to. I’m good, I can deal with it,” Steve says, like it’s supposed to be reassuring, like it’s such a big sacrifice for him to deal with how inexpensive Eddie’s taste in jewelry is, like their relationship isn’t serious enough for Steve to get over himself.

It’s just his rich boy upbringing, Eddie reminds himself. Even Wheeler’s upper-middle-class jewelry wasn’t enough to beat that expensive taste.

Evidently, the conversation had stuck in his boyfriend’s brain, because on the morning of their first anniversary, Eddie is given a long, velvety black box with four Sterling silver rings. They’re exact replicas, design-wise, of their nickel-plated counterparts, and Steve looks so proud of himself, so pleased with his gift idea, and Eddie barely stops himself from frowning.

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little hollow, “um, thank you.”

“You like ’em?” Steve asks, and there’s such a hopeful look on his face that it just pisses Eddie off more. “I just figure—y’know, because, I mean, I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing costume jewelry, so—”

“Yeah, no, I, uh—I got that,” Eddie says with a strained smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “I feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, and he says it with humor, but there’s genuine worry behind it. “Did I screw up your present that bad? Were you dropping hints and hoping for something else?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “It’s…the present is fine, Steve,” he says.

“You don’t like them,” Steve mumbles, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I mean, it might take me a lot longer to save up, but is—would you, like, prefer titanium or steel or something? I didn’t really think you were a gold kind of guy, but it’s fine if you are, I just didn’t know—”

“Why do I have to prefer anything?” Eddie snaps. Steve blinks at him. The look of pure confusion on his face is a little infuriating, like he can’t even fathom why Eddie might be upset, and Eddie’s eye twitches. “Look, just because you’re all high and mighty about what jewelry is worthy of being seen near you—”

“Woah, woah, what are you talking about?” Steve asks, alarmed.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Eddie slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up to stomp around the living room, pacing back and forth. “You won’t let me hold your hand o-or even touch you, like you’re so above cheap shit that you can’t bear to let it touch you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve offended the sensibilities of his highness with my ‘costume jewelry,’ but Jesus, Steve, you can’t even get over yourself on our anniversary? I’ve seen you act like me touching you with my rings on gives you hives or some shit, like it’s just so terrible that it makes your skin crawl—”

“It does,” Steve says, a little subdued, eyes wide with shock, lips parted, “I’m allergic to nickel.”

Eddie pauses mid-stomp.

“You’re what?” he squeaks.

Steve blinks, and a long silence stretches between them. “I’m allergic to nickel, Eds, everybody knows I am,” he says. “I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing nickel-plated stuff, but you really like your rings, they’re important to your look, so I wasn’t gonna be a dick and tell you to take them off just so I could.”

Recontextualizing every interaction of his year-long relationship he’d tried not to read too hard into is…a lot to experience in a little under thirty seconds.

“Oh, dear God, I’ve been an asshole,” Eddie mutters. “I thought you wouldn’t let me touch you because—but it was just—”

“Yeah, an itchy dick is not a good feeling,” Steve says, a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him. His face falls a little. “I—did you think—?”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie blurts, horrified. “I am so sorry, Steve, oh my God—”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t—I must’ve seemed like a total jerk, Eddie, I should’ve told you outright, but I guess I figured you already knew,” Steve says, shrugging helplessly. “But, no, it’s nothing like what you said, I promise, I’m just—I’m allergic.”

Eddie immediately yanks the rings from his fingers and fumbles to get the box open, swapping them out for the silver ones, which he jams onto his fingers as fast as humanly possible. “If I got my head out of my ass sooner, I swear I would’ve found replacements the second I knew,” he says, and Steve laughs.

“I know you would’ve,” he says, all fond and soft, “you’re good like that.”

“Let me make it up to you? I can touch you all I want now,” Eddie says, waggling his silver-covered fingers in front of Steve’s face.

Steve interlocks their hands and leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. “Looking forward to it, Eds.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fic #also my prompt #i guess it's a prompt?#it was more like. a passing idea #but still

4K notes · View notes

alargehunkofdebris · 9 months

Text

Why There’ll Never Be Another Good Omens 2 Experience

The strangest thing happened after a few days post my watching of S2. I got a wave of real, bittersweet sadness.

Not due to the obvious – I was dealing with that too, but with more excitement than anything – but because I realized something, as a writer and consumer of media. I realized that it’s unlikely I’ll ever get a media experience close to what I experienced at the end of Good Omens 2. Because really, its setup was absolutely unparalleled – in general, and for myself personally.

I am currently writing my third romance, and what I’ve learned primarily about the genre, the way for it to really work, is that there needs to be something keeping the couple apart initially. The more things keeping the couple apart, the stronger the romance hits. The more the couple clashes with each other, the better it is. Societal norms, class issues, initial dislike, literal danger—all these aspects are what make a romance a story. It’s that conflict that creates the compelling narrative. No romance was ever popular because things worked out well from the beginning – it’s that “look at what we were, and look at us now” aspect that gives readers/watchers that satisfaction. It’s the “I can’t believe this happened” effect. The “I would never have foreseen this” effect. The “they’ll never be together” effect. It’s why forbidden romances are so incredibly popular.

Another aspect that makes a romance story really work well is the amount of time it takes for the romance to develop. A couple that gets together after a few days? Eh, it’s tricky. You better make it really dramatic somehow. A great example is Titanic – class differences, betrothal, and a huge amount of danger threatens this couple, so them being in love after only a few days works. But what really sells this one is because we can see how this romance has survived beyond those few days. We see it 80 years in the future, still there, in the memory of Rose. That is why it hits so hard. Romances that span over long periods of time (especially ones that are bittersweet/tragic) hit so much more than ones spanning a short period.

But wait! There’s more!

You can up this effect by not only having the romance take time in story…but having it take time in real life, for the viewer/reader.

This is why romances in TV shows that take years to finally work out are so compelling. It’s that “Pam and Jim” effect, that will-they-won’t-they deal. We are waiting right along with them, and we’re feeling that same relief when all those things keeping them apart finally fall away. This is harder to pull off, because there’s never that guarantee that the story will make it that far. TV shows get cancelled, creators lose interest or die, etc. So it’s not just “Will They, Won’t They,” it’s “Will They, Won’t They, Can They Even Try?”

This is also compounded by that fear that it won’t happen in-story after all, and while in romances you’re pretty positive that things work out (they kinda have to, for it to be labeled a “romance”) in other media, there’s always that possibility. Look at Community – there’s a forbidden/conflict-ridden romance that didn’t end up working out, even though it was “Will They, Won’t They”d for six entire seasons. You also then have shows and ships where fans are almost sure it won’t happen, but still hold out hope. (See: Supernatural, Sherlock, etc.)

Now. Now look at Good Omens. Look at that absolutely unparalleled, unbelievable set up. It’s unbelievable because it takes almost every single thing that makes a romance compelling, and not only uses all of them, but dials them up to 11.

Why are they at odds? Why are they forbidden from being together?

Because they are literally the most opposing forces you can imagine in Western Canon. They are the Angel Guarding The Gate and The Serpent of Eden. The literal only way you could’ve made this a bigger deal would’ve been to make it God and Satan, and even that would’ve not hit as hard, because it’d be like two CEOs getting together – there’s no fear of a higher power adding that delicious conflict. And to add to all this, in real life, the couple is portrayed as two men, which adds that second meta level of conflict.

And what fear/danger is keeping this couple apart?

Not just familial disappointment—but disappointment from God and Heaven and Hell. Not just moral guilt, but the guilt of potentially dooming the entire Earth. And finally, on top of that, the very real danger of being killed. Not only that, but making it as though you never even existed.

And in real life, they face all those roadblocks that queer couples in media have been battling for years and years, but I'll talk about that more in a second.

Okay, then Time. How long have they been kept apart?

For…all of it.

All of the time that ever existed.

They, quite literally, could not have been kept apart longer.

And this leads into those final two points, the ones that actually really sell it. Because I can sit down right now and write a story about an angel and a demon falling for each other at the beginning of time against all odds…but what I can’t do is to have already written it thirty-three years ago.

That’s how long this story has existed. Thirty. Three. Years.

I’m not even counting how this is using characters that have existed as opposing forces for thousands of years. I’m not even saying that, even though that’s also a part of it. But besides that, this story, this exact story started thirty-three years ago, and is still being continued by the author to this day.

Do you know how uncommon that is?

Yes, we have canon that has lasted for many, many years. Hundreds. We get new versions of beloved older stories ever year. But it’s so very rare that they are by the same creator. We get new Sherlock Holmes content, but it is not written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This, on the other hand, is actual canon content, written by the author of the original. That is unbelievably rare.

That means we’ve got a fandom where some people have grown up with these characters. People who read it at twenty are fifty-three. People who read it at fifty are eighty-three. Kids who saw their parents reading the book now have children of their own. It is a cult classic that has been in the hearts of so many people for generations. Me, personally, I fell in love with it ten years ago, at age twenty, at the very beginning of my own writing journey. This story means so much to people, because it’s stood that test of time.

And yet, this story was never explicitly romantic. So many saw it that way, but it was never something confirmed. Because this was a book from the 90s, at a time where this kind of romance just wasn’t in popular media if it wasn’t played as a joke. It was, back then, the same kind of “forbidden” as a romance between angel and demon. So people imagined, but they never expected anything more. And they’ve continued not expecting more, because even in the 2019 first season, there was never any true confirmation of anything, and people accepted it. You have a 33-year-old story here – it’s possible that this major change/confirmation could happen, but all things considered, it was unlikely. You would never blame the creator for not making major developments to a story they wrote with their late friend a lifetime ago. And no one in production was saying a word to confirm or deny, but we’ve seen all this before. It was a Will-They-Won’t-They…Probably-Not situation.

And then you have the end of S2.

And that's where that bittersweet sadness comes in for me, personally. Not at a huge level, not to the point where I'd have it any other way, but it's there regardless. Because I realized that this was a unique situation that could never be replicated, for me, and likely for many, especially readers of the book pre-show. In all likelihood, I would never again experience a romantic payoff like this one. Because it was the most forbidden of forbidden romances, the couple of which have been kept apart by the worst of all dangers and highest level of guilt for the longest amount of time literally possible, written over a real-life span of time where this kind of romance went from “completely taboo even in real life” to “finally acceptable in popular media,” written by the same creator, and not confirmed as canon until the story reached the age of Jesus Christ himself.

And the real kicker is, even after everything these two literally star-crossed lovers have gone through…they’re still being kept apart. They’ve still not taken down those final, seemingly insurmountable barriers between them. It wasn’t a “here you go 😊” move to make long-time fans happy – it’s being used as a perfect, painful plot point. After 33 years, we’re still having to wait longer.

Chef's kiss. Couldn’t have been a better set up if it was mathematically calculated. And yet, the best part is that it happened organically.

It just works.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2 #good omens meta #good omens 2 meta #neil gaiman

3K notes · View notes