#(im SLOW and my brain refuses to let me do things)

[postmodernbeliever]

little darling- fox mulder x female reader (SMUT OH MY GOD…)

fox mulder knows how badly you want to be touched, to be taken care of, and he is obsessed with being the first and only guy to do it.

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my ao3 | word count: 6,071

content tags: smut, smut so good in my brain it came out poetic?, loss of virginity, virginity kink, dom fox mulder, protective gentle extremely horny fox mulder, embarrassment, sexual fantasy, plus size reader gets sooooo much love, im blushing just posting this aaaaaaa, oh some religious bits bc catholic girls are freaky and also his sex is THAT good, cross-posted on ao3

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fox knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. he knew how he thought about you, how he touched you in his mind, how he wanted to possess you was culpable- but then again, how shameful could it truly be? how bad was it to want to take care of you, to teach you the right way, to want to show you how good love is supposed to feel? well, maybe it wasn’t completely pure, because he nearly came untouched just thinking about you sometimes, but he just couldn’t help himself. he wanted to. he wanted to be the one you chose to give yourself to. the only one. 

it was always in the most mundane moments, like this one, that he needed it most, which played into his guilt. soft moments where you were unaware of what you were saying or doing, clueless as to how you were making him feel. now, as you sat watching the sex scene from basic instinct while fox pretended to be filling out a case file at his desk, was one of those moments. you squirmed in your seat with a sweet blush on your cheeks, watching the slight caricature of sharon stone on top of michael douglas, pupils blown wide and trying to hide your interest. fox was doing his best not to move a muscle, but he felt like a vein would pop if he didn’t turn around to look at you. his stomach was twisting itself into hot, trembling knots just wondering what the scene was doing to you. 

you’ve been dating him for a few months now, and upon meeting him, you fell in love in a way you still didn’t understand. he did, too. he idolizes you, he holds you up above everyone else to his detriment. after the first few dates, you told him that you wanted to take the physical aspects of the relationship slow because you had personal obstacles to overcome; he promised to do so, because when you look at him, his entire world glows, and he refused to jeopardize that heaven you unraveled. but he’s learned a lot about you since then simply through deduction. the few risqué movies you’ve watched with him proved through the surprise on your face that you hadn’t seen much video porn, let alone been touched; the books you tried to hide in your purse had absurd covers with the lustful silhouettes of cowboys and prairie girls, corporate bosses and assistants, big looming over small against some dark backdrop– all of it meaning that when you were alone, you fantasized. but the most telling was when fox himself touched you, albeit innocently. it was like you’d never been touched by anything before. when fox’s fingers ghosted over your knuckles as he held your hand, you’d giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding your face in your shoulder. even better, when he brought those same hands to the soft, warm apples of your cheeks, you’d shudder, melting into his touch like you’d lost your volition. it didn't matter how he did it- if his hands were on you in some capacity, your breath hitched in your throat like a fool. 

you wanted to let him touch you. there wasn’t a thing in the world you wanted more than to let him give you all of the things you’d dreamed, all of the things he must be aching to, but it was difficult for you. it seemed no amount of love was enough to break down your walls– you’d never let anyone that close. you’d always struggled with your body and your worth, and the little dating experience you’d had wasn’t much to boast about. you weren’t what people wanted, even if you were deserving. you knew fox was different, and that to him you weren't too big or not pretty enough, but you had just about every anxiety about physical affection. he had no idea you were a virgin on top of it all, which only made the pressure greater. you just couldn’t get over the fear. but you yearned to have it, so much so that even the smallest instances set your body aflame. you had the most lewd things running through your head when fox did just about anything. once you watched the man reach for the cereal box on the top shelf in his kitchen, and his sleep shirt rode up to reveal the dark happy trail that disappeared down his pants, and you felt so dizzy you could’ve dropped dead. and whenever he was close, it was unbearable. you replayed the sensation of his strong, lean hands resting protectively over your hip at his friend’s house. you thought about the way his lips felt on your forehead so often you could’ve written a book based solely on the texture. it drove you insane, the way you wanted him, and you drove yourself insane every time you didn’t act on it. but what did you know of hands, of mouths, of letting someone see what you shroud in fabric every day? what did you know of making him feel good, too, of being worth the wait for him?

now, as you curled up on his couch, you watched michael douglas’ hand grip sharon stone’s leg. it was big, but not big like fox’s. you imagined it was your boyfriend on the television, dark and brooding, as you saw how the man dove between the blonde’s legs, starving; her back arched, propelling her hips forward into his face, and she let out a soft moan. in your head, you saw yourself on that bed, and fox as hungry. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered the blanket draped across your legs in your palms, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. but the agent who listened to the heavy breathing on screen saw exactly what was happening to you. he saw the blood rushing to the tips of your ears, tinting them the color of your bitten lips; he saw the way you shifted rhythmically beneath the blanket, almost undetectable, but absolutely undeniable. fox looked up at the ceiling as if to thank the god he didn’t believe in for playing basic instinct on cable, and he stood up from the desk, stalking over to sit beside you on the couch. as his body made the cushions dip, you smiled nervously. through a cracking voice, you said, “i didn’t know this movie was all… y’know.”

‘oh, yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” fox nodded, attempting his best unassuming expression. “still good, though, huh?”

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

fox sighed just a tad too loudly and let his hand fall on your thigh. nothing but the blanket was between his palm and your skin. you looked to him with a pleading pair of eyes, though you didn’t really know what you were pleading for. the moaning from the television got louder, and you felt so warm, and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. you had no idea what to do. fox grinned at you and let his head tilt back over the couch as he swallowed thickly. you stared at the curve of his stately neck, how his adam’s apple bobbed, and every inch of your body pined in his wake. fox gazed at you, lounged wide like a lion, and his hand slowly traveled up your thigh to the crease of your hip. he slid his fingers across the soft crevice, and you were still at a statue, stuck between craving the friction and terrified to feel it. 

“can i ask you something personal?” fox’s voice was gentle. husky.

“...mhm.”

“has anyone ever, uh,” you followed his gaze to the tv, where michael douglas was doing things that made your hands sweat. “have you ever done it like that?”

you prayed that a black hole would open up in the floor and suck you in, so you never had to admit the truth. but his hand was still in that soft spot, and his minty eyes were made of looking glass, and the image of him that fucked your mind was so boggling you were on the edge of giving up. 

“just out of curiosity,” he added, lips curling into a cheshire smile.

you ran a hand across your burning cheeks and murmured, “uh, no. no, i haven't.”

“it’s interesting, y’know, how they can make it look so real,” fox pursed his lips, pushing his hand back down your thigh to rest on your knee. 

before you could bite your tongue, you confided, “i wouldn’t really know.”

fox’s hand paused at the crest of your kneecap, a chill running down his body. he thought of you, his pretty, quiet, gentle girl, and he never once stopped to think why you were so reserved. he always blamed the little silver cross that hung from your neck and some guy from your past, but he neglected other options. but now, his mouth watered. 

“really?”

you tugged the blanket up to your face. “is that a bad thing?”

the man turned to face you, pulling your hands away to reveal the flushed face beneath. you were breathing so heavily. a need rattled his bones, one he wished he could stifle. pictures flashed in his brain- you, writhing beneath him, the feeling so new, making pretty faces as he did what the people in movies do. him, defiling you, ruining the girl you’ve been, clutching to your cross as your mouth bled with his name. maybe he was a monster, but his cock twitched in his dress pants at the humiliated expression you bore.

“no, baby, of course not!” he chuckled, “no, that’s– that’s a good thing.”

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,” 

“but…”

“but what, sweetheart? i don’t expect anything from you.” fox sweetly lied. he wouldn’t force it, but he wanted it. badly. 

“i just wish that, uh, that i had by now. sometimes. i guess.” 

your eyes darted between the television screen and the way his nimble fingers encased both of your wrists. it only took one hand for him to hold you down… what a career he could make with his other hand free. 

“have you ever tried?” 

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

you let out a nervous hum. something came over you like it always does, and you leaned over to hide in his shoulder; in a way, that was better than letting him see your face. his hand rested at the nape of your neck as he cooed, “awh, baby, it’s okay.”

“it’s not really okay,” you mumbled into his shirt. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i don’t think it is. i think it’s cute.”

you felt his hand run down your back, and you pushed yourself a little closer, so you could rest against his neck. fox kept talking since you were at a loss. 

“nothing embarrassing about that, i promise. truthfully, you’re better off. so many guys out there just wanna take advantage, y’know?” he reasoned, tracing little things at the small of your back, fingertips like pens. “probably would’ve wished you didn’t, because you’re so hard on yourself… i would hate to know you lost your virginity to some guy who didn’t care about you. not the way i do.”

the heat of your breath against his neck was maddening. everything about you was maddening. how you curled into him for protection, for reassurance, how your palms tugged at the wrinkled cotton of his work shirt because you didn’t know where to put them. the little nods of agreement you made with every opinion he voiced. he wanted to knock you on your back and fuck you right there, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t spring it on you. you had to want it, you had to let him. and he knew you wanted to let him because it was all over you. 

he asked again, “baby, do you want to?”

he raised his wandering hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you felt this urge inside you, an indulgence just begging to be released. acting selfishly, you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and beneath your lips, you felt the vibration of a little growl. fox tangled his palm in your hair, and as gently as he could, he pulled your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

fox rose from the couch and tugged you up with him. he watched the blanket fall from your legs to see that your sleep shorts had ridden up and tucked themselves in the chub of where your thighs and legs met, that sacred spot he’d touched before, and he rolled his eyes in ardor. with your shaky hand in his, the man led you into his bedroom, where he motioned for you to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

you watched him walk over to his closet and open the doors, revealing the shuffled-around mess inside. with his back turned to you, you saw his hands disappear to unbutton the dress shirt that crumpled on his shoulders from a day’s work. as he pulled it over his head, the spotless skin of his sculpted back smiled at you. your hips were warm. 

“you’re nervous,” he said, still facing away as he threw the shirt into the basket. “i know you are. but it’s not so scary. plus, you’re with me. i’m nice, aren’t i?” “you’re very nice,” you smiled, “but you’ve done this before. you… you know so much more than i do.”

“are you sure?” fox’s laugh rumbled low in his throat, “because i’ve seen the books you read. bet you’ve got all kinds of ideas i’ve never even tried before.”

you shifted on the bed, tucking your legs into a crisscross. “w-well, that’s different!”

“no, it’s not!” the man teased, shaking his head like you were hopeless. he crossed the room, back to you, where he stood like a pillar before the bed. when you didn’t meet his gaze, he tucked his finger beneath your chin and made you. “you’ve been thinking about it for so long, haven’t you, sweetheart? about me? must be so lonely, just thinking, never doing.” 

he passed his thumb over your trembling chin, admiring your starry eyes, how they reflected so much love. you were so pretty, a pretty he couldn’t have imagined if he’d seen all the most beautiful women in the world. none of them could hold a candle to his girl. “you’re so smart, so good at handling things when they’re hard. but you never let anyone handle you, do you? not even me, baby, and i could be so good at it.”

you couldn’t control how you let him sway you. you gave yourself over, basking in the rush. he settled on his knees, so you had to look down, and he pressed his hands to where your love handles dipped, passing the skin over in his hands. 

“i’ve wanted to let you,” you sighed, “i’ve… thought about it.”

fox’s eyes, eager as a puppy’s, looked up at you as he asked, “well, when we’re in your head, where do i start?”

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

the man decided that you deserved to have your fantasies fulfilled; if in your pretty mind you’d dreamed up a routine, then he’d follow it, and he’d prove to you that nothing was as good as the real deal. he pushed up on his knees and leaned in, thankful for his low-set bed, as he pressed his lips against yours. you disassembled against his touch; he moved with a cadence that had your head spinning, fingers behind your ears, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. you’d kissed him plenty, but never like this. never so messy, so desperate. he tasted warm, and kind, sunshine in a mouth. you let out a soft whimper as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“i think you’re a bad girl in that head of yours, angel,” he mumbled into your mouth. “what do i do next up there?”

you were too afraid to say it, and you didn’t want to pull away from his lips, so instead you reached for the wrist that held his hand to your face. fox’s throat tightened as you guided his hand down to your stomach, a place you didn’t let him touch often. 

“so pretty, baby,” he admired, knowing exactly what it is you needed from him. he paraded his kisses down to your neck, where he got so much sloppier. he licked a stripe over your throat, nipping at the soft skin of your jaw, and he passed the chub of you over in his devastating hands. you keeled forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he littered your ear with little pecks. “so soft. i love your tummy, y’know. how it looks when you wear those pretty dresses, and how when you wear my shirts i can see the shape. fuckin’ adorable, you have no idea. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“fox,” you whined. he was barely even touching you, but the weight of his words anchored your lungs to the floor. 

he took a little liberty and leaned down to tug your shirt up, and began brushing his lips over you, spit for paint. you let your hands wander to his hair, and your stomach flipped at the noises he made. 

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

fox pulled away, and you swooned at the sight of his pretty lips already swollen. “forgettin’ already?”

“well…” you trailed off, feeling a mental fog roll in.

fox stood up and pushed at your shoulders, tilting you back onto his bed. laying down, he had more access to pushing your shirt up and seeing you for real. he sucked at his teeth, handsome face overtaken with want; you curved like a muse beneath him, and he wondered why you hid all this body beneath clothes. you felt his hands like a compass, mapping the cascading mountain ranges and slow, dipping valleys of your hips and thighs, as if his whole world was discovering you, as if his purpose existed within the endless confines of your flesh and bones. and his hands roamed freely, nomadically, through your land, committing every road that made you shiver to memory. 

“where do you touch yourself, princess?” fox smiled. you whined, and he clicked his tongue. “come on, show me.”

your hand shook, but you rested it over your shorts, and you curled your fingers in to prove you knew how. 

“good girl. bet you know just what to do, huh?”

“mhm,”

“but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?” fox pouted playfully as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band squeezing your waist. 

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

“fuck. you sound so pretty when you need me. let me see you.”

trying to stop himself from rushing, the man clambered on top of you and grabbed you by the back of your knees, pushing you up the bed a bit. when your head hit pillows, he tucked them behind you, and he crawled back down to your legs with a mission. gently, he tugged your shorts down, and beneath were little black boyshorts that cut into the skin of your thighs. he looked about as starving as michael douglas as he flattened his palms against your hips, adoring the sight. 

“y’know, most girls hide lacy things,” he teased, “i like this so much better.”

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

“god, you’re just dying for it, aren’t you?”

you pushed up into his palms and whispered, “please.”

“please what?”

“do it,” you heaved, “i need it, fox.”

he didn’t need to be told again. he slid your panties down in one sweep and practically drooled over what you had kept from him all this time. he could’ve cried. this must be what people felt when they saw the mona lisa for the first time, or had a prayer answered. this was his very own da vinci original. this was god’s divinity trapped in your lower half. you were an irritated pink, your pussy plump as the rest of you; as he pushed your thighs wide, he found a sheen already coating your skin. “fuck, sweetheart, is this from the movie or me?”

“y-you.” you kicked yourself for all your stammering, but the glow of his cheeks soothed the embarrassment. 

“oh, yeah?”

you didn’t know how easy it would be to let yourself be touched before you just tried it. here, with the one man who might be the direct work on god on earth, you wanted to spill every secret now that you knew something of hands. your heart beat against your ribcage relentlessly as you admitted, “was imagining it was you on tv, fox, you and me,”

“jesus christ,” fox grunted, eyes dirty and dark. “i can fuck you better than he ever could.”

fox pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs, and just the pressure alone drew a dangerous moan from the back of your throat. he relished in the sound as he began to circle his finger, leaning down to kiss the searing skin. you rolled your hips against his touch, begging for more friction, and he wordlessly rewarded you with a new motion, one that needed two fingers for rubbing. you grabbed at his forearm as it came into reach, and he felt like he could explode from how you tugged at him. you held onto his arm like it was a lifeline. any other girl would’ve grabbed the bedsheets or touched her body, but your inexperience meant you were acting on instinct, and that quite possibly was the best thing he’d ever seen. watching you feel so good for the first time in your life had him panting like a dog. you were all his now, his pretty girl under his spell. an angel who knew only one name. 

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say. 

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

“good girl. only i can make you feel like this, right? not those guys in your books, none of those movies. just me, my hands, baby, my mouth,”

you used your grip on his arm to try and get him to go faster, but he refused. he wriggled free from your grasp and left a ghostly kiss on your stomach, tutting, “oh, no, angel. i’m gonna make this last. want you out of your mind when i’m done.”

you’ve felt powerless all your life, and you do even now, but this is the first time you’ve ever needed more. you were engrossed in being taken. you’d been too afraid to pray for this because you weren’t sure how the man upstairs would feel about you breaking his technical rules, but you had to have yearned to let fox take your virginity every night since you met him. you knew he’s done this before, but you didn’t know he was so gifted; but even he could tell you that it wasn’t so much his experience as it was how he wanted to ruin every other guy for you. and how could you want another when his hand– that which wrapped around the neck of a pistol, that which choked the air of men’s throats– circled your clit so gently, working a new kind of love into you that you never thought imaginable?

“been dreaming about this, y’know,” fox drawled, leaving stinging kisses on your waist. “been thinking about how our first time would go. and you’re doing so good, you’re taking it so well right now.”

you couldn’t speak. every word got caught in your chest. so instead you tugged at his hair, trying to get him to kiss you. he giggled, hovering over you and slowing his fingers so he could give you what you wanted. you moaned into his mouth, lips gnashing against his teeth in your eagerness, and just when you felt like you were starting to have some control, you felt two of his fingers push between your folds. they went so much deeper than you’ve ever gotten your own, and as he curled them inside you, your entire body shook. gasping against his cheek, you exhaled, “oh my god,”

“be careful, baby, you don’t want him to hear you,” fox warned, voice thick with lust. 

you grabbed at his chest, fingers running through the little curling hairs that grew in a thicket over his heart, and you felt it beating, keeping time with his hand. you wondered if sex felt like this for everyone the first time around, but then again, how could it? unless fox was there for them all, they could never have had it this good. 

“you’re so pretty,” fox cooed, “so pretty on my fingers. d’you feel pretty, baby?”

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

“mhm. what about me, love, you think i’m pretty, too? my hands feel pretty?”

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

“you’re so pretty,” you droned, trying to catch his lips in a kiss, but he rerouted to your neck. 

you ground into his palm over and over again, and he felt you burning up on his fingertips, contracting, squeezing, shaking. he moaned into your shoulder, “do you wanna cum, baby?”

your hands scratched at his arms, and to his surprise, you shook your head violently. “not yet,”

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

fox’s pupils swallowed the green of his eyes. the man licked his lips and slowed to a stop, letting his fingers rest inside of you, and he asked, “what comes next, then?”

even in a position so lewd as this one, you were too embarrassed to explain. so you reached up to his mouth, swiping your thumb across his slick bottom lip, and with pretty little doe eyes, you popped your finger into his mouth. you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, swirling his tongue over the salty taste of your skin, and you whispered, “i need you.”

fox pulled off your finger with a pop. “how?” 

he followed your lidded gaze as it traveled down to the bulge in his pants, and he nearly passed out. 

“you sure you’re ready for that?” his eyebrows knit together in true concern, but he knew he was the one who had to answer the question, too. he wanted to do right by you– you couldn’t regret this, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you did. “i can wait, you know. this is about you.”

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

“mhm,” you sighed, “just… don’t hurt me.”

the man above you melted like putty, and the hunger he’d touched you with went soft. you saw that toothy grin again, the one that gave you butterflies, and he promised, “i’d never hurt you, angel.”

the scruff of his jaw even tinted a lovesick pink as he kissed you. your fingers scratched at the back of his ears like you would a dog’s, and you confessed between breaths, “i love you, foxie.”

his hands flew to his waist and he rushed to undo his belt and shimmy the slacks down. he wanted to scream, he wanted to stand at the edge of the world and tell every soul about the way you coated his entire existence in sugar, but right now, it was just you. he was alone with his girl, and if he couldn’t tell the world, he could at least make you sick of hearing it. 

“i’m so fuckin’ in love with you,” he swore, marking your face with invisible prints of his mouth. “i’m all yours, princess.”

“oh, god,” you groaned, watching how he spilled out of his boxers with glazed eyes. you had no idea where he was hiding all that. you felt a little dorky for the surprise, but who could blame you?

fox was too far to reign in. he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, and he made you scoot up against his headboard; you pressed your back against the cold wood, and you yelped as he raised you in the air, pinning you to the wall. 

“fox, i-”

“you’re not too heavy,” he stopped you, knowing what you were going to say. “you’re perfect.”

you couldn’t complain- truthfully, you didn’t even get the chance to think about it, because he was all over you. with one hand holding you up by the leg, and the other gripping the headboard with white knuckles, he pushed himself between your legs, and you knocked your head into the wall at the way he stuffed you. 

“fuck, fox!”

it didn’t hurt, but god, was he big. pinned to the wall like this, you had no bearings. he had you suspended, stapled down by his sheer strength;  you never thought you could be fucked like this, some little ragdoll he could throw around, but clearly you underestimated how much he could handle. you felt the wind leaving your lungs as he pulled out and snapped back in, pelvis rolling hard against your swollen clit. he moved like a wave crashing down, managing to soak every part of you with his skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, so much better than i imagined,” he croaked, “feels okay, right?”

“s-so… so big…”

“oh, baby, i know,” he babied, leaving pinprick kisses on your jaw. “you can take it, pretty girl.”

his big hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of your neck as he fucked you into the creaking headboard. you were an endless machine of moans and profanities, head lolling, trying to keep your eyes open to watch the way his lips parted at the feeling of you encircling him. he tugged at your hair, and a guttural groan escaped your lips. 

“always wanted to get fucked like this, huh, baby? you’re such a good girl, you deserve it,”

“fox, please,”

“such a pretty girl,” he moaned, “jesus, you sure you’ve never done this before?”

as you bucked your hips against his swelling length, you offered a drunken grin. “only in my… dreams.”

“oh my god. you’ve got no idea how hot you are.”

he was everywhere, he was heaven, he was the pounding in your head as you collapsed against his body, letting him use you like a toy. you scratched at his shoulders, mouth all over his sizzling skin, and he flooded your ears with pretty praises. you hoped to god that by the time he was done you’d have the print of his hands tattooed on your hips, or that he’d never be done and you could float on by in this bliss forever. but his hips were thrusting hard, and falling out of time, and you felt your tummy squeezing like it was running out of air. he drowned in you, mouth full of dirty whines and strings of i love yous, and you knew you couldn’t hold back.

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

the feeling in your stomach was foreign and hot, and it was backing up all the functions of your brain. all you felt was fox between your legs, terrorizing this little spot that short-circuited all your nerves, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping his mouth with yours– and when he hit it one last time, with eyes rolling back, and you let everything go. fox felt the warmth of you spilling over him, and the silent scream you let out had him unraveling in seconds. his hands were all over your face, fingers on your teeth as he came inside you, feeling himself mixing with you, and nearly bursting again just knowing he was. 

“oh, baby,” he fussed, “good girl, atta girl!”

pulling out slowly, so you didn’t feel too shocked, he slid you down the headboard softly and helped prop you up against the pillows again. you couldn't see straight, and everything twinkled, but you did catch a glimpse of him sneaking back down the bed. the man admired the mess he left behind. the smallest dribble spilled out of you, and all of a sudden he was lapping it up with his tongue, thirsty as a castaway. your entire body buzzed with overstimulation, and in what felt like screams but only came out strangled, you exclaimed, “fuck, oh my god!”

his tongue split you open, collecting all the juices between your hips and smearing the inside of your thighs, the pretty little mound of your pussy, making you shimmer like an angel. he sucked, and he swirled, and he dug his tongue between your folds like a freak, and you grabbed at his sweaty hair, so full of him you wanted to thank your angels for sending you someone so perfect.

“come on, i know you’ve got more,” fox coaxed, “one more, baby, one more.”

black spots crossed your line of vision as you watched his face disappear in your legs, and the tidal wave rose again, drowning you in a feeling that had you bucking against his tongue like a rogue horse. you’d never been able to make yourself cum, but all it took was fox mulder to pull two loads right out of you. you felt disgusting, you felt drunk, you felt so good you could’ve died this way. you didn’t ever want to leave the bed. fox made his way back up, heaving, and he kissed you with milky lips. you tasted yourself on his tongue, and you needed his palms to pin your hips down as you trembled, stuck on your high. 

“good girl, didn’t that feel good?” kiss. “you did so good, baby,” kiss, “so good for me,” kiss, “m’so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“mm… agh,” 

“i know, love, take a deep breath.” you felt his hand press against your warm tummy, and he told you again, “take a deep breath for me.”

you smiled, trapped beneath him, and you breathed like he wanted you to. anything he wanted, for the rest of his life, he would get. through fuzzy vision, you saw his glittery eyes, the grecian curve of his face, the little white strip of teeth behind his handsome smile, and you felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself. he started to blush under your gaze, so he laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest to listen to your racing heartbeat. 

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

“m’not a virgin anymore,” you giggled, the joy bubbling out of you. 

his warm laugh echoed in your ribs. “not anymore.”

“all yours now,” you swooned, “are you happy?”

you felt his hand slither behind your back, and he scratched at your spine, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling. then he attacked your neck and shoulders, mercilessly going after all the spots he knows are most sensitive until you lost your breath again from his innocent touch. “stupid question!”

“ah!– fox– agh, stop!” you swatted at his hands, a blissful wreck.

“‘course i’m happy,” he chuckled as he relented. “are you?”

in a huff, you rested your spinning head on his pillows and blushed. “mhm. very.”

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

“my pleasure,” he teased, flopping down beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. and when a comfortable silence fell, he couldn’t help himself: “you know i’m never gonna stop thinking about this, right? i’m ruined for life.”

“shut up,” you laughed. 

“no, seriously. get ready for a life of me drooling over you doing absolutely nothing.”

“i’d like that life, i think.”

you curled up in his side, and he drew you close, letting you hide in the crook of his neck the same way you did in what felt like a lifetime ago on his couch. there was still a little devil on his shoulder, applauding him for taking a piece of you that no one else could have now, but more than anything, his heart ebbed and flowed in his chest, blossoming each time he looked down at your pretty face. he meant it when he said he was ruined. you ruined everything by letting him fall in love with you, and he has never felt so lucky. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

inspired by this ask ;)

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

okay im lowkey obsessed with writing sickfics SOOO heres graysonsss!!

Stubborn and Sick (grayson edition) - grayson x lyra

(yeah so ignore the fact that i took the title of my lyra sick fic and just stuck “grayson edition” at the end….)

——————————————————

Lyra felt her eyelids flutter open, stretching as her eyes got used to the sun peaking through the open blinds. Mornings like these were Lyra’s favourite. She’d let her body acclimate to being up, and would bask in sunlight, with her head on Grayson’s chest—

Her thoughts slowed to a halt once her arm, that stretched atop of Grayson’s side of the bed, didn’t feel a Grayson anywhere.

Frowning, Lyra sat up, and checked the time. 10:09 AM. Yawning, she realized, with a huff of disappointment, that Grayson was probably in his office just down the hall. Then she frowned. Lyra was forgetting something. She always had almost like an itchy feeling in her brain when she knew something was a little off. Racking her mind, Lyra finally realized what it was. She was meant to set an alarm for 7:30, but had clearly forgotten. But why, Lyra asked herself, it’s not like I have school, or work—

Lyra realized then why she wanted to set an alarm.

The night before, Grayson looked physically sick. He had been working non stop to land a deal with some asshole company that refused to relent, and was working himself to the bone, which only made matters worse. His skin was pale, he had a cough, he was burning up feverishly, and, when he thought Lyra couldn’t see him, he stumbled to the kitchen to get a cup of water because he was clearly too dizzy to walk normally. So, Lyra was going to wake up early to check his state, and therefore determine if he was fit to work or not. So much for that, Lyra thought.

She felt a bit guilty then. Her boyfriend was probably sick, working non-stop, and she couldn’t even remember to place an alarm just to check on him. Huffing, she peeled off her blanket. Lyra was wearing just a tiny pair of shorts and a t-shirt, but even in early spring it wasn’t warm enough to just wear a t-shirt, especially with Lyra’s cold blooded tendencies, so she picked out one of Grayson’s sweaters from their closet and stomped to his office.

Once she got to the door, she didn’t bother knocking before coming in.

“Good morning, Lyra.” Grayson said, sounding seemingly normal. However, seemingly normal and normal were two different things, and Lyra was determined to find out which one was the way Grayson really felt. She walked closer to him, examining him, and immediately knew something was wrong; his suit jacket was off, his hair was messier than normal, his tie was loose, his face was pale, his chest was rising and falling with quick movements, and he seemed twitchy and distracted. So, definitely sick then.

They’d had a conversation yesterday. Lyra told him that if he was feeling sick the next day, he wouldn’t be working. And what did the asshole do anyway?

Grayson could immediately tell she was pissed by her folded arms and the way she loomed over him. “Sweetheart—” he started.

“Don’t sweetheart me.” Lyra said, cutting him off as she jutted an accusatory finger to his face. He slumped a bit more in his chair. She walked closer to him, putting her hands on the arms of his chair and her face close to his.

“You said yesterday that you wouldn’t work the next day if you weren’t feeling well.” She accused. Grayson sighed, standing up and regaining height on her. He held his hands up.

“Lyra, I am just undergoing some minor symptoms. Believe me, I am fit to work.” he told her, his chin tilted downwards to meet her gaze. Lyra snorted.

“Some minor symptoms? Theres a bottle of Tylenol knocked over on the table, and even you being the neat freak that you are didn’t put the pills spilling out back in. That’s concern enough.” Lyra argued, staring at Grayson with a thunder-stricken expression. He opened his mouth, clearly about to rebuke her statement, but Lyra continued before he could.

“Your dress shirt is rumpled and unbuttoned, your face is pale and teetering on a yellow edge, your hair is messier than you ever allow it to be, even when you’re working from home, your tie is loose, your hands are literally twitching as we speak, and, when you stood up to meet my gaze, you looked clearly disoriented and off. Admit it. You’re sick.” Lyra finished, crossing her arms and giving him a stubborn and fierce look that screamed “I’m not dropping this until you agree that you’re sick”. Grayson looked slightly appalled. And Lyra couldn’t ignore the proud feeling in her chest when he looked at her like that, with those appraising eyes of his full of awe.

“You seem to have noticed a lot.” he admitted. Then, his eyes grew more stubborn. “You seem to have noticed a lot of minor symptoms.” Lyra scowled at him, but he only sighed.

“Lyra. I know you’re worried, but believe me, I’m fine. And it’s not like I can take a break even if I were sick, anyway. I have to complete this work by tonight to land that deal with those investors, and with the load I have, unless I’m at it all day, I’ll never be finished.” Grayson explained, giving her that soft look that she was too familiar with. Lyra wouldn’t let herself be buttered up. She was about to argue back, when he took her chin in his hand and gently tapped his thumb to her lips.

“Please, Lyra.” he finished, his voice soft and eyes loving. Lyra almost relented. Almost.

But even though Grayson was stubborn, Lyra was stubborner.

“Fine,” Lyra sighed. Grayson smiled at her.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. But it was only when Grayson was turned away, grabbing an extension cord from the drawer behind him, that Lyra grabbed his laptop and took off. Maybe it was a ridiculously petty move, getting him to chase her around while he was sick. But Lyra didn’t care. She was taking care of her damn boyfriend even if it killed her. Lyra heard him shout her name, before chasing after her. She ran all around the house, finally stopping in their bedroom. Lyra squared her shoulders once she saw Grayson step into the room. His face looked jumbled with different emotions—confusion, shock, and annoyance—when Lyra looked at him, but that all faded away quickly when Lyra placed his laptop on her vanity, stepped forward, and captured his lips with hers. He froze with shock for a moment, before he was pulling her in, deepening the kiss. Lyra did the same, pushing him backwards onto the bed. The kiss was everything and more.

Lyra knew that Grayson felt that way as well. Which meant she knew that he had fallen for her plan.

Lyra felt Grayson’s teeth skim her bottom lip, and she latched onto his belt. Grayson separated from her lips, looking at her like he could see straight through her with those perceptive eyes of his. But there was something smokier to them, something akin to lust hiding behind those wide pupils.

“Lyra.” he breathed, his voice hoarse. Lyra tried to feel unaffected by that, and smiled at him.

“Good. You’re in bed.” she replied simply. Then she let go of his belt, rolled over him, jumped out of their bed, and turned around to look at a messy-haired blown pupils Grayson Hawthorne. He looked flustered and confused all at once. And then realization dawned on him. He tried to sit up, but Lyra pushed him down back into the laying position he was in previously.

“No go, honey. You’re sick, so you’re staying in bed. I’m going to get everything you need, and if you complain, I’m putting a cloth in your mouth and tying you to the bed.” Lyra told him flippantly. Grayson raised a suggestive brow at her with that last sentence, but she just rolled her eyes, muttering “I didn’t mean it like that” as her cheeks tinged pink. She turned around and started to walk to the door.

“Don’t get out of that bed, Grayson. I mean it.” she ordered, jutting a finger behind her back at him. Walking into the kitchen, Lyra made a tray with everything he’d need: A mug filled with hot lemon and honey tea, cough syrup, a thermometer, medicine, a box of Kleenex’s, and a bowl of soup. She also filled up a cup of water so he could stay hydrated.

Walking back into the room with the tray in hand, Lyra was pleased when she saw him still in bed. His eyes seemed to follow her tray, and he looked almost guilty.

“You didn’t have to do this, Lyra.” he complained, looking at every thing she had brought with a loving but weary look on his face. Lyra placed the tray on the night stand, before helping him sit up in bed and moving it onto his lap.

“Yes I did. You’re sick.” she told him. “There’s a tea you need to drink and some soup since I’m guessing you skipped breakfast, but first I have to check your temperature.” Lyra took the thermometer from the tray, before turning to Grayson and signalling for him to open his mouth. He did, and Lyra placed the thermometer in his mouth with gentle movements. In a minute, she took it out and checked his temperature. 106 Fahrenheit. Not good.

“You’ve got a fever. Take the medicine I put on your tray. It should help.” Lyra instructed, sitting up beside him on the bed. Grayson stared at her, to which she stared back, unmoving. Then he smiled, and took a pill with his water.

“You’re stubborn.” he finally said. Lyra gave him a look.

“And you don’t like stubborn?” Lyra asked him. He returned the look.

“I didn’t say that.” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. Lyra smiled, glowing from his touch. His lips kept brushing against her face, pressing kisses onto her forehead, cheek, jaw, and neck.

“You’re perfect in every way.” he muttered, continuing to press kisses onto her neck. “And I love how stubborn you are because I love every part of you.” Lyra giggled. Then, he raised his head, taking her chin in his hand.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “would you mind getting me a new cup of tea, sweetheart? Mine has gone cold.” Lyra knew something was off about this. Grayson never asked her for anything, but when Lyra asked for the slightest favour, it was done before she could finish her sentence. Damn Hawthorne. But still, she ignored her doubts and thought back to a couple moments ago, how his lips felt pressed against her neck. She felt giddy then.

“Of course.” she said, taking his mug from off his tray and bringing it into the kitchen. She reboiled the water, dumped the drink, replaced the tea bag, and waited a couple minutes for the water in the kettle to finish boiling before she poured it into the mug. Swishing the liquid around with a spoon and adding no sugar—just how Grayson likes it—she started to walk towards the room when she heard a ping sound coming from it, almost like a… notification. The noise was so quiet that Lyra thought she was just hearing things, but something felt different. Frowning, Lyra tiptoed to the room, using her dancers grace to not allow her feet to make even the slightest sound as she walked towards the door. Peeking through, Lyra’s eyes squinted before widening.

Grayson had gotten his laptop out while she was in the kitchen. And, was probably waiting to hear her footsteps. Too bad for the big ass, because hers were always silent.

“Hey!” Lyra exclaimed indignantly, bursting through the door and locking eyes with a surprised-but-at-the-same-time-not-surprised Grayson Hawthorne. She stomped up towards him.

“I told you not to go on your laptop, asshole.” Lyra said, stopping at his bedside with her hands on her hips. Grayson held her gaze, his eyes frustrated.

“I just needed to review a couple more documents,” he said. “Just a few more and then I could continue the rest later.” Lyra rolled her eyes.

“That’s it. I’m not gonna leave this laptop in your sight for even a minute longer.” Lyra argued, grabbing his laptop and walking out of the bedroom to go place it in the living room somewhere. Lyra heard the bed creaking behind her, before footsteps began to follow her own. A hand shot out to grab Lyra’s wrist.

Lyra spun around, putting the laptop down on the coffee table and glaring at Grayson. Grayson sighed, holding his hands up in front of him.

“Look, baby—“ Grayson began to speak, before Lyra cut him off.

“I’m going to make sure you stay in bed and get the rest you desperately need, because you are literally dead on your feet. Now c’mon.” Lyra interrupted, taking a hold of Grayson’s arm and pulling him back into their bedroom.

5 hours had passed, and Grayson had drunk his tea, ate the soup Lyra put out for him, took more medication, and had slept like the dead. She was currently going over some notes for her classes, sitting on the floor beside his bed with her back against it. She couldn’t help a pleased smile from touching her lips; this was proof that Lyra could outwit Grayson Hawthorne.

Or, that she was just more stubborn than him, but Lyra decided to do herself the favour of lying for her own sake.

Suddenly, a rustling sound started above her. Lyra tilted her head up and saw Grayson stirring. He blinked groggily, before noticing her sat below him and smiling.

“What are you doing down there, sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his voice low and sweet. Lyra tried to remember how to breathe, and when she couldn’t, she turned her attention back to her notes.

“Keeping an eye on you. I was worried that if I wasn’t nearby, you might run off to the office somehow.” Lyra deadpanned. Grayson could tell that she was a little frustrated, which, she deserved to be after all that work just getting him to stay in the bed, and so he treaded lightly.

“And how would I do that?” he asked gently. Lyra shrugged.

“I assumed with your super-secret-Grayson-Hawthorne-abilities.” Lyra retorted. There was a beat of silence. Then another.

And then Lyra was surprised to hear the deep and rich rumble of a laugh that only Grayson had.

Lyra tried to remember that all the butterflies she was getting from that perfect sound were ridiculous, considering he was laughing at her.

“What?” she asked, turning he head around to glare at him even as he continued to chuckle. Finally, he smothered it and looked at her with a smile on his face.

“‘super-secret-Grayson-Hawthorne-abilities’?” he mocked, smiling. Lyra rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean.” Lyra said, annoyance in her tone and embarrassment on her face. Grayson reached down, and took her hand in his.

“I’d understand much better if you came and laid up here with me.” he offered, tracing her finger with his thumb. Lyra snorted.

“Why? So you can infect me too?” she retorted.

“So I can apologize.” Grayson corrected. There was a beat of silence as surprise flashed across Lyra’s face. She let go of Grayson’s hand and placed her notes on the floor, before standing up. As soon as Lyra met his eyes, she watched his pupils expand.

“What for?” Lyra asked, feeling slightly guilty for being mad at him in the first place. He sat up, pulling her closer by the waist.

“For not listening to you. You were just trying to help out. I’m very sorry for that, sweetheart.” Grayson told her, his voice soft. “Now why don’t you come lay in bed?”

His voice was so inviting, so sweet, that Lyra couldn’t stop her legs from walking towards the edge of the bed. She ignored Graysons eyes as they followed her, and climbed onto the space on the bed beside him. Immediately, his hands were on her as he pulled her on top of him.

“Grayson!” Lyra exclaimed, swatting at his chest as Grayson placed her down on it. His only response was to press a kiss onto her lips, his hands moving up and down her body.

“Did you take my shirt off while I slept?” Grayson asked softly as he brushed his lips against her jaw. Lyra suppressed a shiver.

“Um—yes, you were burning up.” she stuttered, briefly caught off guard. He made a sound in his throat before continuing to kiss her. Lyra separated, even though she didn’t want to, so she could try and get some words out.

“Grayson.” she said seriously. Grayson’s eyes bored into hers. “Are you feeling better?”

Grayson smoothed a hand over her hair, the touch gentle and soothing. “Yes, I am. And I have you to thank for that.” He pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn.” he apologized, mumbling the words into her hair. Lyra giggled.

“So you admit you were stubborn.” Lyra said, a smile touching her lips. Grayson gave her one of his own smiles, beautiful and breath-taking and hers.

“I do.” he said. Lyra’s smiled widened.

“And now it’s time for you to admit that I, Lyra Catalina Kane, am fully capable of outsmarting, outwitting, and outmaneuvering Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.” she said. Grayson’s kissed her nose.

“Really, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

“You, Lyra Catalina Kane, are fully capable of outsmarting, outwitting, and outmaneuvering me.” he repeated, the words giving her a shine of pride. Lyra wrapped her arms around him, sighing.

“Isn’t that the truth.” she said, her voice teasingly wistful. Grayson snickered, pulling her closer himself.

As well as sunny mornings, Lyra loved sunny afternoons, where light from the golden hour shone through their windows.

And this time, unlike this morning, Lyra finally got to bask in the sunlight with her head on Grayson Hawthorne’s chest.

————————————————————————

hehe see what i did there. i tied a sentence from the first paragraph into the last sentence. heheh. okay thanks for reading 💕

[zeltqz]

— ✭ — 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 — ✭ —

-> SUMMARY. satoru's smart in many things, but when it comes to dating and relationships, he's lacking that intellect. somehow he expects you to always be there for him to patch him up.

-> pairing : gojo!satoru x nurse!reader

-> length: 5.7k

-> tags. nsfw+18 content, injuries (mentions of bruises, cuts and scratches), implied beef with suguru (i shall not be elaborating further lol), medical practices; stitches etc, gojo is fucking annoying lol, love him though, reader is going to grow grey hairs bc of him, implied fwb relationship, satoru ghosts reader for five months (not his proudest moment but plz giv him a chance), marks during sex, blood mentions, unsafe sex, creampie, nicknames

-> a/n: im currently having a gojo brain rot. its not funny and this is a cry for help. ps i have no clue how to do any medical practices so if you notice some things are off just...shh.... 🤫

Satoru strolled through the clinic doors, his shirt rumpled and stained with remnants of blood. From the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of an older woman clutching her purse and just opposite her, a mother grabbed her kids closer towards her and away from him. 

Ignoring them was easy, after all he was here for one thing and one thing only. He approached the front desk and the nurse behind the counter was tapping at her keyboard, head tilted towards her shoulder to balance her phone. 

“Ah okay, gotcha. Your appointment is scheduled for next Tuesday. See you next week sir!” she said enthusiastically before hanging up and looking up at Satoru. “Hi, how can I help you toda—”

Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Satoru rested his elbows on the surface and smiled back at her. 

“Hey! Is (Name) working tonight?” He didn’t even get the question out fully before craning his neck to peek past the doors reserved for the nurses.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’ll be mad if she answered truthfully. It was conflicting for her. She’s fully aware of your brief relationship with Satoru. Hell, all the nurses were somewhat intrigued and aware to an extent. The extent being you refused to tell them any personal details of the matter. The only things they knew was when you’d suddenly get a text on your phone and the next five minutes you were leaving early, you were with Satoru.

But that was months ago. 

His frequent visits and texts started declining over the last few months and by the lack of Satoru written all over your face and phone, they all just assumed you stopped seeing each other. 

Satoru examined her hesitation and came to a conclusion. “Ah. She is, isn’t she? So, where is she? The back?” He tried to sneak another look past the small vertical window allocated on the wooden door to get a glimpse of your hair or anything before the nurse stood up. 

She wasn’t tall by any means, but with the way Satoru was hunched, it lowered his magnificent height to something more manageable and she was able to block his view with her head. “You’re not allowed to look inside there.”

“Then stop wasting my time and tell me if she’s here.” His eyes flashed momentarily as he started to get pissed and it was enough for her knees to buckle and give way, dropping her successfully back onto her seat.

“S—she’s not—” 

Before she could even finish her lie, the sound of a door opening from down the hallway caught everyone’s attention. An elderly lady walked out of the room, holding a walking stick and a grateful smile on her face. Once she got a reasonable distance out of the room, she turned around to face you and bowed, thanking you for the help.

You held onto her and helped her down the hallway a bit before letting go and leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a satisfied smile on your lips as you watched her walk at a slow but steady pace. Her hand stopped trembling as much against the stick and you were just happy she was slowly improving. 

It wasn’t until you looked past the elderly woman’s head did you notice Satoru himself, hunched over the reception. Your fellow nurse looked at you guilty before sighing. 

Satoru stood up straight once he met your eye. 

“Oh hell no,” you muttered under your breath and quickly darted back inside the room.

It’s unfortunate you’re messing with Satoru Gojo of all people because he was faster than you and crossed the distance in the hallway before you managed to lock the door behind you.

You did however, manage to get it shut and used it to your advantage and pressed your back against it. 

Satoru sighed, the sound smooth and honeyed, knocking gently on the door’s window with his knuckles. “Lemme in. I’m injured, you know?”

You couldn’t help but feel flattered that he was only acting with you, pretending to give you the choice of helping him or not because you both knew he could easily have this door open in seconds and you’d probably be flying across the room if he had his way.

“That’s got nothing to do with me, Gojo. Please leave and make an appointment. If you need an impromptu surgery, please find a hospital. Not a clinic.”

“But you’re the best nurse,” he said, pouting.

You rolled your eyes. Yeah right. If anything they were all better than you. You only started working here recently, having a few months experience compared to years. The first time you gave him stitches, you had pierced him full of holes so much that he was even surprised he had a drop of blood left inside him, but he kept healing himself so you barely noticed the damages.

Another thing about Satoru.

He doesn’t actually get injuried. His injuries are nothing but an illusion he creates to get close to you. All the times he came in battered and bruised, nothing was real and if they were, they didn’t hurt one bit. But it didn’t help that he was such a good, charming actor that you couldn’t help but fall for his little game every time.

“I’m not the best nurse, Gojo. Now for the second time, if you need treatment, go to a hospital or make an appointment.”

“Gojo?” he questioned, sounding utterly confused. At first, he thought the sudden use of his last name was just a fluke on your end. But twice in a row? Nah, he’ll wait to see if you use it one more time before making a judgement.

“Yes. Isn’t that your name? Now are you going to a hospital or not Gojo? Us nurses have actual patients to attend t—”

The door was pushed open easily and he walked inside without a care in the world as you fought back the childish urge inside you to not stomp your feet on the floor and throw a tantrum. 

Satoru stood tall over you and it wasn’t until the ceiling light hit his face that you finally noticed the scratches on his face and cut on his lip. They weren’t hospital level serious but you couldn’t help but feel worried at the sight of seeing him hurt.

“What the hell happened to you?” There was no malice in the question, your voice filled with nothing but concern.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Got into a bit of trouble,” he said with a chuckle, scratching his messy hair.

You scowled and shook your head before holding his face in your hands to examine the damages. “This looks…managable.” You pull away after close examination and begin removing your gloves. “The nurse in room 405 upstairs can help with that cut.”

You turned around to throw the gloves in the bin and wished you saw the look on Satoru’s face as his smile fell at your words.

“That’s nice and all but I was hoping you’d help me with it. You know? For old times sake, yeah?”

“Definitely not .” 

“Why no—”

You turned around and poked him in his chest, hard, unaware of the big bruise under his shirt. 

“You ignored me for weeks! Not even weeks actually. Months! And now you think you can just waltz in and take advantage of my services? You’re so—” You stopped yourself when you felt yourself getting angrier and took a deep breath, taking a few steps backwards create some distance between you and Satoru.

Inside, you hated to admit you actually liked Satoru and grew fond of him. You weren’t one to usually let people into your hearts but he was an exception, and he just vanished. 

The first week was okay, you didn’t mind. After all the two of you were spending way too much time together on a daily basis so maybe he just needed some space? 

The second week, you were also…kind of okay with it? It’s a dramatic change to go from seeing and talking to someone everyday to suddenly have two weeks no contact. It was lonely but you just chalked it up to him being busy.

By a month it was just getting ridiculous at that point. Third month? You were pissed and swore up and down if you saw him around in public you’d claw his face out with your scalpels. 

Fifth month you had convinced yourself you had moved on. You blocked his number on everything and made sure he had no ways of contacting you ever, despite the fact you knew deep down you missed his touch, his kisses, his words, his voice, his dic—

“I’m sorry about that. I’m a busy man, you know?”

“It’s always ‘you know this’, ‘you know that’. Fuck —” You dug the heels of your palms in your eyes out of sheer frustration. “I don’t know anything because you can’t communicate with me! You were too busy? Busy?! Too busy that you couldn’t even open your phone and I don’t know, call me?! Text me?! I think even an email at that point would’ve made me satisfied. Not just radio silence Satoru .”

This time when you said his first name, it was filled with such emotion behind it. He could feel it from where he stood. You tried to keep your face as casual as possible but the eventual twitch of your bottom lip gave you away. 

“I know baby. I’m so sorry.” He took a step forward and tested his luck. You didn’t push him away or tell him to leave you alone, so he engulfed his arms around you, wrapping you into his chest. 

You refused to hug him back, standing eerily still as your face was suffocated between his chest. The scent of him was so strong that it almost made you tear up. Five months. Five fucking months of no Satoru was enough to drive you mad. You were so touch starved that you physically had to strain your arms in order to keep them at your side and stop them from wrapping around his waist.

“I’m so sorry baby. I mean that. I didn’t mean for things to get this far,” he murmured into your hair, holding you so softly almost as if you’re delicate. “But I’m here now, okay. Always.” 

He was met with silence. 

“Baby?” His heart skips thrice in his chest when he realises your hand rose to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric for dear life as you tried to fight back tears.

Crying in front of people wasn’t something you normally did, almost hiding it late at night in the comfort of under your bedsheets. The tears were always so easy to flow freely during those times, but now it felt like your eyes were hot and stinging and you couldn’t control them anymore.

With his hand on the back of your neck, he slowly pulled your face away from his chest and lifted your chin to look up at him.

You were a silent crier thank god; the mere thought of you ugly sobbing and sniffing in front of Satoru made you want to end it all. He pouted and wiped your eyes with his sleeve. 

“Wow, I really had an impact on you didn’t I? Interesting,” he hummed.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck you.” You pulled away first and stomped over to grab some tissues. “I’ll wipe my damn face. I don’t need you.”

“You do need me though.” He pointed to the wet patch on his white shirt. “Clear proof!”

Now that your eyes are dry enough to see clearly again, your eyes wandered around the room, looking for something you could throw at Satoru’s head to knock his brain back into place. Your hands twitched into fists as you tried to control yourself again. 

Satoru noticed. “You know I knew you’d be mad at me which is why I got myself all beat up so you could poke needles into my skin.” Then,  he sighed, long and dramatically. “And people say I’m not thoughtful.”

“You’re not thoughtful. You’re an idiot with no common sense at all.”

“How else was I supposed to see you again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Maybe call me?” You paused, remembering you blocked him. “You could’ve just come and seen me. You know, without getting yourself all battered? You can never think like a normal human I swear to God.”

That was what you loved about him though, his carelessness and recklessness. It only added to the excitement you felt when you were with him and the fact you knew whatever he did there’d be no consequences because he was the strongest and rules don’t even apply to him.

But Satoru doesn’t need to know all that.

Satoru scrunched his nose at your idea and shook his head. “Ehhhh I dunno. Too boring. This,” he alternated pointing his finger between the both of you, “is much better though.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Get on the bed before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am!” He strolled over towards the patient bed and sat down, kicking his legs as he stripped off his shirt. By the time you turned around to face him with the supplies you needed, you almost dropped them all. 

There was a huge bruise on his chest followed by more cuts and scratches running all down his chest. 

“Gojo! Who the fuck did you fight?!” Your mouth dropped open at the sight, pure concern written all over your features.

His eyebrows furrowed a little. “Satoru*,” he corrects, looking salty. When you didn’t waver, waiting for a response, he sighed again. “It doesn’t really matter who I fought. Just come on, patch me up,” he ordered, smiling boldly at you.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Answer the question Go—Satoru.” 

He smiled triumphantly at your words. “Suguru.”

It was almost amusing to him to watch you file the name and process it. It definitely sounded familiar, but you spent the last five months erasing everything Satoru related from your mind, so it took a little longer than usual to remember. But eventually you remembered who Suguru was and gasped. 

“Suguru?! What—why?!”

He shrugged and you could tell he really didn’t want to talk about it. “He just…did somethings that pissed me off so we fought.” He looked unusually serious for a moment and you could tell something deeper than that happened, but you weren’t here to be his therapist. So you didn’t pry.

“Okay. Well…” 

He waved your sentence off flippantly. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously. Move on and fix me.”

“You’re not in the position to have an attitude right now Satoru. I can leave right now and have another nurse here to do this for you.”

That shut him up for a bit and you smiled in triumph that he was able to shut up for once. 

His eyes were on you the entire time. You grabbed a cotton ball and applied alcohol to it, dabbing away at the cuts gently before beginning to stitch him up. He winced at the sting of the needle going in and you looked up at him, concerned.

“It hurts?”

“Nah. Just uncomfortable. Keep going,” he responded, giving you the okay.

With his approval, you continued with his stitches and everything was going just fine. You didn’t feel as overwhelmed with the close proximity as much as you thought you would’ve. But the second you finished up with his chest and moved onto his face, you realised you might not be able to do this.

His eyes were trained on your face the entire time and they were so intense to look at. He grinned when he noticed you pause for a moment, as if trying to keep all your focus away from his distracting stare and you wanted to stuff the ball of cotton into his mouth to wipe his smug smile off his face. 

The bed was near the end of the room, meaning the light didn’t hit it as well as it should’ve, making it harder to see. So you had no other choice but hold his face up by his chin and continue dabbing alcohol on his cuts. You could see his eyes dart all over your face, from your nose, mouth, eyes, and everything you shifted backwards to grab something, those eyes of his followed.

His eyes lingered on your lips the longest, and in the silence of the room you swore the sound of your heart beating was loud enough for him to hear.

“Stop staring at me,” you said, pausing your movements.

“You nervous?”

“No. It’s just distracting.” You wiped some dried blood from his cheeks with a wet wipe.

“Not a bad thing to be distracted, Doc.” 

“It is in my profession, Satoru.”

Standing this close to Satoru had its pros and cons. On your end, it was easier and quicker to fix him up being this close and you were able to see and hold his pretty face. But he was also a major distraction, making your first point render useless as you couldn’t get the job done regardless if he kept looking at you like that.

For Satoru though, you standing this close to him was only benefiting him. He could see every inch of your face this close and if he really wanted to, could trail his hands down the backs of your thighs and onto your hips. If he really wanted to though.

“Okay. I see your point,” he hummed. “Distractions aren’t necessarily a good thing. But…”

“No buts! Fuck, you’re so annoying.” You pulled away to grip at your hair, wondering if you were truly frustrated enough to rip your hair out. You’ll probably regret it in the morning so you refrain from the thought.

“Would you think it’d be annoying if I kissed you right now?”

“Yes,” you responded back without waiting a beat. “Don’t even think about it.” You went back to work, tilting his head tot he side to see if there’s anymore damage to assess.

He took advantage of your focused state to lean in closer. “You sure?” His nose brushed yours and you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. 

You cleared your throat and jerked your head over to the camera on the ceiling near the end of the room. Satoru looked away from you for a moment to look at it. 

“Nice try though,” you said with a smirk. There was no more damage to his face, he was all stitched up and his cuts were cleaned. “All done. You can go home now.”

You stepped away from  him and let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. It was so intense being that close to him, your lungs actually felt peace the moment you were away. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” He stood up, shrugging his shirt back on.

You turned around and looked at him in confusion. “Let’s go? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You gotta walk me to my car. What if I fall and seriously injure myself?” He put his finger on his chin, deeply thoughtful.

Your face deadpanned. “If you were good enough to drive here, then you can walk yourself to your car. I’m not an escort.”

“What time do you get off?” he asked, ignoring your previous sentence.

“I dunno. Maybe midnight? Something around that.”

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Almost eleven p.m. “Alright. I’ll wait for you.” 

“What?! No.” You rubbed your forehead in annoyance. This dude was giving you a migraine. “Please just go home. I have my own way home already.”

“What. The bus?”

You hated his tone. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Why go on that thing when you could drive with me? You used to love my car you know?”

The fact that he was throwing what you used to be in your face like he wasn’t the one to ruin it made you angry. “And how many months ago was that, Satoru? I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah yeah.” He laced his hands behind his head and began to walk out. “We’ll see.” The door closed behind him and you stood in the room for a moment wondering if he actually left. 

It felt too good to be true. But after two minutes, you went out into the hallway and saw he was nowhere to be seen. With that in mind, you were able to finish working and leave on time, briefly ignoring your fellow nurses questions about what Satoru wanted.

By the time you exited the clinic, changed out of your nurse scrubs and back in your casual attire, you were on your way to the bus stop down the street when you saw the only car left in the parking lot was still there.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You hated how you could see Satoru’s white hair in the drivers seat, his head hung low as he looked at his phone. He was distracted and this was your chance to make an escape for the bus stop without him noticing.

You managed to make it out of the car park and on the way to the bus stop in peace, earbuds in your ears with music playing softly. But that wasn’t enough to stop the loud honk of a car beside you. He was driving beside you at a slow pace with the passenger side of the door wide open.

So careless.

He had it wide open as if he knew you’d get in.

So conceited.

Part of you wondered if you made a run for it, would he speed up and eventually have the door hit a pole? The thought of that made you laugh but you came to a stop and looked at him. 

“Your door is open.” You stared blankly at him, stating the obvious.

He acted surprised and gasped as if the revelation shocked him. “Really? Wow. Maybe you should get in so I can close it?”

You looked at the bus stop which was only down the road. It’ll take 45 seconds max to reach it. But you could practically feel the warmth radiating from the inside of his car and fell to temptation. 

He grinned wide as you stripped your bag off your shoulders and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. “Atta girl,” he commented before speeding off.

It took everything in you to not glance over at him the entire ride. Something itching deep inside you that made you just want to peek at him once, but you knew he’d never shut up if he caught your attempts. He’d probably go on a long ramble about how he’s not surprised you couldn’t get enough of his pretty face and the thought made you want to gouge your eyes out. 

Instead, you decided to peek out the window and try get a glimpse from his reflection. The car was speeding past so many streetlights at once making it somewhat easier to grab a solid reflection. 

Staring at Satoru driving was one of your favourite things back then. He always looked so calm, one of those rare moments when his face wasn’t fixed in a smirk. His face was relaxed and he’d keep his pure attention on nothing but the road. Of course that made you determined to see what you could do to break that concentration, like holding his spare hand that wasn’t on the wheel, playing with his fingers and rings, or even (in the severe cases) going down on him just to hear him groan whilst struggling to maintain that concentration.

You knew deep down Satoru would never let the car crash, so it allowed the both of you to be reckless. A smile fixed on your face as you remembered those moments and before you knew it, the car came to a stop.

Outside his house.

“And we’re here!” He stopped the car engine but kept the lights on, allowing him to look at you better and man, your reaction was worth it.

“Huh? This isn’t my house Satoru.”

“It’s not?” He looked around before gasping. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to stay the night then.”

Ten seconds passed where you both just stared at each other, not speaking, just the sound of the crickets outside adding to the awkward silence. 

“I’m walking home.” You grabbed your bag and made a move to exit the car before he locked the doors. You struggled with the door handle for a second before glaring at him. “Open it.”

He sighed, loud and bratty; practically throwing his head back against the headrest. “Can’t you see I’m trying here? What else do you want me to do man?”

“Maybe leave me alone, Satoru. It’s been five months. You clearly wanted nothing to do with me, now I’m returning the favour.”

“That’s not it though. Just…fuck. Please? Give me a chance.”

You shifted in your seat until you were sitting down again, looking dead straight at your hand in your lap as you began thinking. “...why now Satoru? Why today of all days? Why five months later, when I already let everything out of my system. Why did you choose to come back now when you had so many chances?”

He shifted forward, resting an arm on the steering wheel and resting his forehead against it. He shrugged. 

“Honestly I don’t know. I just…didn’t think things through I guess until it was too late. At first, I was scared. I was spending too much time with you and it wasn’t like me. The anxious feeling I felt was because I was experiencing these new feelings because of you.  So as a deflection, I stupidly convinced myself that you were busy, being a nurse and all and that was enough conviction I needed to convince myself to stop texting you, waiting for you to make the first move. You never did though, so I assumed you genuinely were busy. So I waited. And waited. And waited…but you never texted back. Then the fear I was feeling initially was just me coming to terms to the fact that…I liked you. But by the time it took me to realise, I found out I was blocked.” 

He sighed again and sat back upright, resting his head against the headrest again and looked up at the car ceiling. “I deserved that block though. It only hit me that I actually ghosted you five months later. And I am sorry for that.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at you, deadly serious. “But it never would’ve escalated this far if you just texted me first.”

“There’s no way you’re blaming this on me right now.” 

“I’m not. I just—fuck.” He pulled at his hair and sighed. “You’re right I’m sorry.” He flopped his head back against the car and reached his hand out over towards you. 

You hesitantly grabbed onto it and he rubbed his thumb along your skin, holding your hand tight. “You forgive me yet?” He raised your hand to his lips and pressed kisses against your knuckles, giving you goosebumps. 

You sat upright and leaned closer towards him, holding the side of his face in your palm before planting a kiss on his lips. It was short and to the point before you pulled away. “That answer your question?”

He looked at you for a moment before you closing the distance again, alternating between slow, sensual kisses and sucking your lower lip. You scramble out of your seat and he’s eager to lift you up and plop you down on his lap. 

Your hands laced between his hair as you pressed your entire body against him. His hands on your body caressed every inch of skin he could grasp, digging his nails into your waist as your tongue invaded his mouth. He winced when you went to undo his buttons and you pulled away, remembering his injuries.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry ‘Toru.”

He chuckled. “Nah, it’s not a problem.” He couldn’t help himself and pecked your lips again to wash away your concern. “In fact wait.” He unlocked the car doors and told you to get out. He grabbed your things for you and held onto your hand, leading you into his house.

Your bag, his things ended up scattered on his living room floor as he carried you up to his bedroom. You were laid flat on his comfy bed, head rested against his soft pillows as he hovered on top of you, keeping a little gap between both your chests to avoid further pains.

You graciously accepted him with open legs, locking them around his waist as he kissed you as passionately as he could. His fingers roamed all over your skin, peeling your clothes away and examining your body, naked and vulnerable beneath him.

The two of you barely spoke the whole time, too busy focusing all your energy into just enjoying the moment, the feeling of your lips against each others, the slide of your hands down his back, the caress of his hands along your waist. 

His lips attached to your neck like a leech, sucking until the blood rushed to the surface as his fingers went rampant between your legs, fucking in and out of your wet pussy, his thumb circling your clit. 

Your moans were heaven to his ears. He couldn’t wait to see your eyes cross when he sinks into your pussy. The image stayed in his mind as he quickly pulled his fingers out and switched your positions. He laid flat on his back and adjusted you on his lap.

You reached behind yourself to grab at his hard cock and pumped it a few times before shifting it underneath you. His cock slipped into you easily but the rest was hard, sinking down was painful, his cock carving its way into your pussy. 

You had an iron grip on his arm as he held your hips, your nails digging and leaving marks into his flesh. It hurt but it hurt so good. Satoru rolled his hips up to help you sink down, each roll pushing his cock further inside. It took longer than it should’ve for him to bottom out, but the second he did, you collapsed on his chest.

He winced again but the pain was worth it. Your arms wound around his neck and he began rocking you back and forth against his cock. 

“That feel good?” he questioned, his voice right beside your ear sending tingles down your spine.

“Mhm-mhm.” You bit your lip hard before sitting upright, resting your arms against the headboard for balance as you created your own rhythm. His chest was too injured for you to hold onto it, so the headboard was the next best bet. 

He hissed when you started bouncing like your life depended on it, his grip on your hips and waist becoming even tighter. “Fuck— don’t stop,” he gritted out, low grunts spilling from his lips.

His breathing got heavier as you sped up, grinding your body above him in any direction you could, desperate to feel more of him inside you. He moaned loudly in your ear and the next thing you knew, your world was being flipped. 

Injuries aside, that didn’t stop Satoru from flipping you onto your back, his cock still nestled inside you and starting off a brutal pace, slamming his hips against yours. The bed kept smacking against the wall with each thrust. His hands had a death like grip on your hips, keeping you pinned down to make sure you take everything he’s giving you.

Your nails dug painfully into his shoulder blades, not able to do anything but just scream litanies of curses and his name as you felt yourself getting closer. 

“C’mon, please, fuck me Satoru��I’m ah—’m so close ‘Toru please,” you begged, bringing him down for another kiss. You bit at his lip before sucking the length of his tongue, a move that you remember drove him crazy.

“Scratch me,” he whispers against your lips, removing his hands from your hips to rest beside your head, keeping him upright. “Mark me baby I know you can do it.”

Your hands reach towards his back and drag your nails along his flesh. It stung so bad but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel it, feel every emotion pent up inside you for months and left as a red line on his back. He wanted it to scar, wanted it to be a reminder whenever  he looked in the mirror that you left that on him. That you were his now. 

The thought had him speeding up, plowing your body into the matress; your nails kept scratching, some lines even drawing blood with how deep you scratched. You reached a hand up to his hair and tugged and he lost it.

His hips stuttered inside you and his cock began to leak before he could even process what was going on. He didn’t stop steadily fucking into you as you came on his cock, as his cum began to fill your insides. 

He thrusted one more final time before his arms gave out, collapsing on top of you. His weight was more than you could bear, but that didn’t stop you from holding him as tight as you could. Your fingers ran through his hair, scratching lightly as his undercut as he took the time to catch his breath.

A minute later he was shifting off you, rolling onto the spot beside you before wincing again, the scratching on his back far too sensitive. 

You told him to sit up and then gasped when you witnessed how much damage you did. “Oh my god.”

“What? What?”

You pointed over to the mirror inside his bathroom and he slid off the bed and walked towards it, examining the marks on his back. You followed shortly after, standing behind him and watching as he kept wincing when he tried to touch it. 

“I’m so sorry—I didn’t—I need to cut my nails.”

He shook his head and rested his forehead against yours, looking down at you and smiling. “It’s nothing a nurse can’t handle.” He winked at before pecking your lips.

A few hours ago, the idea of patching Satoru up was enough to leave you grumpy for a day, but now it fills you with excitement. 

You can’t wait.

[yatsurinamikaze]

Swan and Shadow [Sakusa Kiyoomi x Miya!Reader]

Summary: Where the brooding Sakusa Kiyoomi unknowingly falls in love with the Miya sister. What happens next?

Chapter 6 [Masterlist]

Hours pass, and Sakusa waits in silence. The hospital air is cold, the fluorescent lights annoyingly bright, and the plastic chairs are as uncomfortable as he expected. Yet, he doesn’t move. The only thing breaking the silence is the faint buzz of a phone.

Sakusa’s eyes flicker to the screen just in time to see Bokuto’s message flash across it:

Bokuto: What’s this about you carrying some girl in the hallway?! The whole facility is buzzing with it!!

Then another.

Hinata: Yeah—YOU MISSED HALF OF PRACTICE TOO, SAKUSA-SAN!!!

Sakusa sighs through his nose, unimpressed. He flips the phone over and pockets it, ignoring their nonsense. 

The door creaks open.Sakusa immediately sits up as the doctor gestures for him to come inside. He steps into the room, expecting a quick update, maybe a standard ‘she’s fine, she can go home’ report. Instead—the doctor barely glances at him before speaking.

“Your girlfriend has a serious ankle strain. We call it Achilles tendinitis—it’s very common among ballet dancers.”

Sakusa stares.

“I—uh—she’s not—” he tries, but the doctor doesn’t stop.

“She’s going to need a cast for at least four weeks. After that, we’ll reassess her injuries. Complete rest until then, minimal walking.” Sakusa doesn’t even get a chance to correct him before the doctor nods curtly and walks out. 

There’s silence.

You let out a loud huff, crossing your arms. “Well, what does he know about my body?”

Sakusa turns his head toward you. He blinks. “He’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, and I’m me,” you argue, clearly unimpressed. “Doctors just love telling me what I can’t do.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Like walk?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously.”

Sakusa just shakes his head and pulls a chair up next to your bed, sitting down with his usual unimpressed expression.

You smirk. “So, boyfriend, you didn’t leave yet?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

Sakusa exhales sharply—probably a sigh. But then his gaze flickers to the red-purple spot on your wrist, and he frowns. He reaches out, carefully taking your hand to inspect it. “Does this hurt?” he asks, pressing his thumb gently over the joint.

Before you can answer—

BAM!

The door slams open.

“OH, HELL NO.” Atsumu Miya’s voice rips through the room like a war cry.

Sakusa barely has time to process before two identical men storm in.

Atsumu, looking like a feral fox ready to brawl. Osamu, calmer but somehow even more terrifying, arms crossed and eyes sharp.

Sakusa? He physically malfunctions.

He lets go of your hand immediately and gets up from his seat, his gaze shifting between you and the two idiots now standing in the doorway.

Cold. Hard. Paralyzing realization hits him.

The beautiful dancer—the angel in white—the girl he just carried through a hallway and sat beside in a hospital room—

Is a Miya.

Atsumu screeches. “THE HELL ARE YA DOIN’ WITH OUR BABY SISTER?!” Osamu, quieter but no less dangerous, tilts his head. “Ya wanna explain why ya were holdin’ her hand?”

Sakusa just stares.His brain refuses to process.

You? A Miya?

How.

How did this happen?

How did he—the man who actively avoids trouble, chaos, and unnecessary emotions—end up in a hospital, taking care of the Miya brothers’ little sister?

How did he end up holding your hand on your bedside? Which, according to Miya Law, might as well be a marriage proposal.

Sakusa takes a slow, deep breath.

Then, looking between you and your overprotective brothers, he comes to one very important conclusion - he is screwed.

I anyone even reading these? Lol. The response has been fairly muted and Im considering putting this on hold. Maybe my writing isn't as good as it is sounding in my head. :(

[Masterlist]

[celestie0]

so your insecure about your smut I hear ? if it makes you feel better I still mentally jerk it in memory of the following:

kickoff chapter 6 particularly when reader’s collapsed over the sink and gojos still on his knees behind her just WATCHING and then when their eye fucking eachother in the mirror and readers hand is reached behind to grab the back of his head THATS SO SEXY

the tension in chapter 8 i know there was only a proposition of smut but when it was stripped away I think that’s when I fell in love with the series because the slow burn is just everything - disclaimer I don’t jork it to that I just like the scene

The duration of kickoff chapter 11 couch scene 👌. My stomach does the thing every time, dry humping is elite, and the high school in love-ness between them 😭I’m throwing up

THE IHM SNEAK PEAKS

I refuse to believe you think those are bad as well like tf???? And not just the lazy morning sex that had me bust a load but the death row meal comment??????? Making out while doing calculus in his head so not to get a boner???? And for someone who’s not a fan of dirty talk like babe come on, the way you capture all the different sexy aspects of that sexy man like the vulgarity had me HOT and then his dumbass down bad-ness just UGh the need to put a baby in him right now

anyway that deserved its own paragraph but then obviously there’s works with smut as the actual premise

L&L specifically the bj scene I think you awakened my praise kink with that one - btw will we ever get a part 2 because I’m pretty sure that plan fell through but just letting you know I’m all up for seconds, no pressure if it’s not a part of ur agenda though

Round the clock.

actually hold up let me elaborate on these above two points in my full opinion because I really want you to understand this, the tropes/pairings/dynamics which your brain births are so fucking hot that the smut scene is instantly made good even if it’s not your most proud part of the writing process, this links to the common knowledge which ihm reader preached in the recent chapter- men will get hard to anything - but unfortunately it’s not so easy as a woman, personally that’s why I tend to resort to reading cause there’s nothing more psychologically immersing and of course the point of fanfiction is we’re already in love with our husband gojo so just add a little sexy lore ie. older, boxer, babysitter and babe I’m already halfway there cause of the quality of your ideas and writing, smut is only part of the experience and it’s not necessarily the most important

Last but not least that one domestic drabble you wrote I know it’s kind of a pwp moment but the position wifey reader and toji did it in omg and when he called her a slut and when he had her cockdrunk and babbling and begging for a baby 😫✋

honorable mention because like I said smut isn’t everything: the scene where ihm Gojo is shirtless fixing the kitchen sink and drinking oj from a mug and then when he picked up reader while she’s in a measly silk gown … yeah I jork it to that😔

in conclusion ur smut makes me horny🙂 so I think your sufficiently successful in achieving its primary purpose, please don’t be so hard on yourself and I hope you can learn to find more self satisfaction in these parts of your work where you lack confidence and see it in a better light

<333

ok hi anon im back! lol

first of all thank u sm. some people might think a fanfic author would desire a good dicking down from their favorite fictional character and a blunt shortly thereafter. but no. THIS is all a fanfic author truly wants.

HAHAH no but in serious you’re so sweet to point outtt these little details i could sob :”) i was cheesing so hard in the morning when i read it haha!!

i always forget the kickoff ch6 party bathroom scene happened xd sometimes i get thrown into a state of shock when i remember i wrote it. and that’s the thing!! i was so excited n giddy to write it bc it was back when i didnt think too hard about my writing haha. somewhere along the line i just became so self conscious ab smut :( but anywho yes the couch scene in kickoff ch11 had me screaming while i was writing it i was so excited to eventually post it so i’m so happy you enjoyed ittt aaa :”)

STOP bc i have SO much smut planned for ihm 😭😭 ranging from borderline crack smut to passionate lovemaking loool i can’t wait to get to those parts of the series but ouf yea them insecurities be haaaaard. i think i just don’t see a lot of representation of the kind of smut i like to write in the fandom very much so it gets me second guessing 🥲 like idk i like dirty talk but it has to be kinda on the nose?? like the whole part where ihm gojo says the thing ab doing calculus in his head so he doesnt get a hard-on 😂😂 like idk it’s so cute n hot to me in my head but it’s kinda niche to my preferences haha

sorry i’m rambling but like ugh same w the morning sex scene i wanna get to that part sooo bad but i just hope i don’t second guess that scene once i get to it 😩😩 bc oh my the way my coochie was clenching the whole time while writing it LOL i sob

aw yeahh i was supposed to do a pt2 for l&l but hmm i kinda got bored of the concept. it was my first major oneshot smut n like aaa i like it but :0 i think it does stand good alone as just one part

thanks my dear :”) i agree i think…well, i have a hard time giving myself credit for anything usually haha, but i do think that the character dynamics i created outside of i guess the smutty stuff rlly helps? i guess its kinda like a buffer when i get into writing smut bc im like oh yknow even if this isnt the hottest thing my readers have read i hope that they enjoy it bc they like my versions of gojo xd so you’re so sweet for validating me on that HAHAHA

also stooooop i love that scene in ihm. the one where he picks her up effortlessly while she’s on all fours in her grandma nightgown on the floor 🤣🤣 idk if this is so hyperspecifically arousing but like the thought of sporty muscular gojo having just come back from a run n he’s manhandling vintage silk nightgown-wearing reader while she’s has barely awoken from sleep is so cute n silly n hot to me. sorry it sounds like im jerking myself off here but i just love ihm gojo sm honestly i would like to fuck him until his balls look like raisins :/

anywhooo you’re too sweet. like seriously. and i saw your follow up ask, an hour?? imma sob. i’m saving the link for this ask to look back on whenever i feel bad ab my smut writing abilities!! or just writing in general. i fear u may have saved me anon LOL i haven’t felt this excited to write smut in a while! i appreciate you :)) much love!

[smol-stardust]

hello sparky, I don't know if you remember. But it's anon who was very obsessed with Haunted Reflections

It's been a while, and I wanted to say I know you took a break from writing for HR. But I was wondering if you have plans for writing for HR in the future or have any lore/snippets you'd be willing to feed be because it's very yummy and Delphi is a such a good character.

Hope you're doing well and thanks

ANON COME HERE AND LET ME HUG YOU. (Thank you for being invested in my oc who's a sad suffering little bean)

It has been a while, I hope you've been taking care and things are going well for you too. Feel free to drop by anytime.

And yes, uhm... Not drafting a plot like that and jumping headfirst into writing had its issues. Some stuff didn't flow so I took it down from ao3 while I cleaned things up and actually drafted. Then uni and stuff happened and writing HR makes me sad too (I know, ironic) so it's just a slow slow process

(also Im not ready to have OC protection services come get me 😔 /lh)

But I still write snippets here and there, but I actually suck at writing multi-chaptered works, specifically drafting. I just... My brain refuses. So it'll be a slow process. But we're getting there.

In the meantime I offer a snippet to thank you for your support

I know I'm ill, but it's more than just the physical pain. It's the emptiness, the sense that something vital has been ripped away from me, leaving me incomplete. Every time I try to reach out to my memories, I'm met with nothing but a blank canvas. It's like trying to embrace a ghost. I'm surrounded by these phantoms of my past, and their presence makes my heart ache with a longing I can't fully explain.

I can't help but wonder if the ghosts haunting me remembered more of their past than I did, were they more alive than me in spirit? Could they still remember the warmth of laundry and the sting of the sun and the million things that evade me?

How can I miss something I don't remember? It's a paradox that gnaws at me day and night. But I do miss it. I miss the warmth, the familiarity, the sense of belonging that I'm sure I had. And the more I dwell on it, the sicker I feel, as if the emptiness itself is poisoning me.

Poisoning me like the words everyone used to tell me; "you'll be out of the hospital soon."

Except this time it's not a poison I want to consume, it's not like lemon zest; where it's poisonous but won't kill you unless you eat way too much. Nor is it poison that tastes good. This poison is like lead, ripping me apart from the inside slowly but surely.

[blondeaxolotl]

HELLO IT’S ME IT’S SELF-AWARE FLOYD ANON BUT YOU CAN CALL ME -> 🐍 THAT FROM NOW ON SOREY I’M TYPING IN ALL CAPS I NEED TO GET THIS OUT YIUR BRAIN IS SOIOOOO BIG IM GONNA JFHSJFHDKJFJ

ok calmed down basically I read your response and had to stand up and go scream “FUCK” in the corner of my bedroom and then typed the above thing in a fugue state I’m calmer now

Because you got me thinking: you got me thinking?!!! that self-aware Floyd ONLY loses it when he realizes Jamil is doubting whether or not Floyd loved him BECAUSE!! SEA SNAKE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??! YOU BREAKIMG IP WITH ME AND ME LOVING YOU ARE TWO SEPARATE ISSUES?????

And Jamil is like WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE SEPARATE ISSUES but obviously they’re not going to. Communicate any of that. Like even remotely SO what happens is that at some point post breakup when they’re still in school they bump into each other again (with Kalim and octavinelle trio there for drama purposes) and Jamil is fucking acidic. Like ice cold but spitting mad and venomous. Because though jamil processes anger through repression he processes hurt through anger!!

And like at this point people have gotten used to Jamil letting loose a bit after his overblot and he’s always been pseudo-hostile towards octavinelle for the sake of it but even he went like “whoa Jamil??” And octavinelle trio (even Floyd) is all like ????????????????? because wtf did azul do this time but then Jamil storms off and Kalim hurries after him and Floyd has this slow sinking feeling in his chest that something’s really really wrong

And it gets worse because now Floyd’s trying to ask but Jamil is so fucking mad at him, he doesn’t yell at Floyd or anything but it’s so obvious and it’s nothing like the fights they used to have when they were dating, this is something completely cold and made to hurt, and Floyd can’t figure out what’s going on and his hackles are raising day by day — he thought Jamil was going to feel relieved that Floyd went without a fuss? he thought that they would still — he didn’t know what he thought, but nothing was going to come from that now when Jamil seems to hate him and oh no no no no he can’t deal with that —

And Jade is finally catching on because Floyd isn’t just sulking, he’s upset, and this makes it worse for Floyd because he can’t deal with Jade and azul’s nosiness on top of everything else —

Sorry. Yeah just. Floyd having a bad time 💕

Hehe hi 🐍Anon glad you enjoyed the ramble

People have gotten used to Jamil letting loose a bit, but I also think so many people would notice even MORE if Jamil is just constantly giving this death stare towards Octavinelle, like to the point other dorms start making comments about it "Woah what is going on with them" "What happened". Hell it wouldn't even surprise me if rumours or theories started going on because I'm pretty it would've been known that Jamil and Floyd had a thing going on and now they don't, and now Jamil looks like he's seconds away from Overblot 2.0. Unfortunately it'd also mean everyone is just side eying Octavinelle (specifically Floyd) cause bro..... what did you do.....?

Poor Ace probably walked up to Floyd like "Dude I don't know what you did and I don't want to know but like- apologise or something because I feel like I'm walking past a nuke whenever Jamil goes by me", and poor Floyd, head in hands just goes bro I don't know what I did he's REFUSING to talk to me, and Ace without a filter goes OH so you MAJORLY fucked up, got it. And gets smacked on the head for that THATS NOT HELPING.

Though the THOUGHT about Jade catching on... y'k that ain't a good thing, not for Floyd, especially not for Jamil. If Azul was the one to catch on Floyd was actually full on upset about it, he'd offer to help him (because if Floyd is depressed that means he can't properly do work for Mostro and that ain't good for the business) and try to talk to Jamil for him. It might be easier since Jamil would be too busy hating Floyd to hate on Azul or it'd make things more difficult and Azul would have to talk to Kalim and have him talk to Jamil about it. Simple enough.

But Jade catching on. Like there is a reason why Floyd doesn't like expressing his sadness to people, ESPECIALLY TO JADE. In my mind, Jade is much much worse than Floyd, he found out his brother was like obviously upset, depressed even because of how hostile Jamil is being towards him. Jade's first instinct would probably be "Ah, so do you want me to talk to him or do you want me to turn him into shoes" and Floyd is just like NEITHER. DON'T DO EITHER I'LL FIGURE IT OUT. Now Floyd is not only upset because Jamil won't talk to him, but he's also upset because he accidentally showed his brother he was upset about this which means Jade might be stalking Jamil from around the corner and now he's praying Jamil doesn't accidentally walk TOO close to him, since he cannot warn him BECAUSE HE WONT TALK TO HIM OR LISTEN TO HIM.

Now what if Jamil had enough time for himself to where he's starting to feel bad a bit, was he too harsh on him? He DID try to talk to him during all this, but was that part of his game? Maybe he should give him a second chance.. Just this once. And right when Jamil looks up from his book, he sees Jade from the distance. Now Jamil went from "Maybe I should talk to him" to "Oh my fucking god he sent Jade after me", in a silent panic. Listen Floyd is difficult to read, but Jade is much worse as in you don't know what he's planning but you know it's something much worse than whatever you might be thinking it could be. And it doesn't help even with how far he is from him, Jamil could see someone was literally GRIPPING onto Jade's arm, as if to not let him go because something bad might happen.

Now we have Jamil who's gone from pissed to scared to pissed again because now he's thinking Floyd literally sent Jade after him and who knows what he will do, and we have Floyd still tweaking trying to figure out how to talk to Jamil without him giving him the cold shoulder but also worrying on where the hell Jade could be and hoping Azul has him under control.

What's better than Flojami angst? Putting one of them in danger basically! Yippee! Throws sparkles everywhere

[neophytepagan]

25 for caecade?

25. one to five tropes they embody or could pull off in an AU.

mostly thinking of the canon verse and im giving more than five because i dont wanna cut down any

unrequited love/one sided - pretty self explanatory, caesar likes arcade and arcade despises him, making caecade one sided and more nonconny is fun sometimes but doesn't have that drama that i like in arcade's shameful attraction.

corruption - over time arcade slowly grows accustomed to caesar and living in his close proximity. he starts tolerating more than he probably should, growing numb to the tragedies around him until caesar pushes him to be a player in it rather than just a victim or a bystander, elevating him to a position of power. maybe arcade tries to do good, but he still becomes complicit by extension

caretaker/ing - emphasizing on the doctor/patient dynamic, despite caesar's atrocities seeing him vulnerable and weak still activates those parts of arcade's brain that makes him want to help and care for him. it makes caesar far more human, seeing him afraid, exhausted, in pain. arcade can't bring himself to deny him any treatment, tenderness, soft touches, words of encouragement

slow burn- arcade isn't breaking that easy, but caesar has all the time in the world to chisel away at his defenses. caesar doesnt even know arcade likes men at first, and feels somewhat ashamed of like, "forcing" that affection upon him. in caesars eyes arcade is the closest thing to an equal to him and after being lonely for... years. pushing away this new and wonderful thing because of his desires would be a shame. then he finds out arcades gay and he wont stop flirting with him

arranged marriage - is always fun especially with a side of political intrigue. this would mostly have to be in an au, but arcade being offered up in a political marriage after being found out as gay and refusing to wed a woman and continue to family line, so his parents will use him as a bargaining chip instead, throwing him at the slaving dictator. arcades afraid for his life and safety given the rumors about caesar... but caesar is so astonishingly different than what he'd expected that he's almost glad for the marriage so he can get away from the enclave

mutual pining - one of my favorite parts about this pairing is when arcade is pining for caesar and really isnt happy about it. he catches himself eyeing caesars body or feeling giddy and butterflies in his stomach over something sweet caesar says to him. its kind of a game. caesar seeing how openly affectionate he can be before arcade puts his boundaries up and gets angry and hides again. he gets to say some pet names but touching is too much... then after some time he gets to stroke arcades hair or caress his cheek but the second he leans in for a kiss arcade yells at him and pushes him away. one night arcade is the one who leans in and presses his lips to caesar, but the second he starts tugging at arcades clothes arcade says no and goes to sleep. progression like that. caesar daydreams abt arcade whenever he's not around him, gets him gifts, even blushes (caesar getting flustered is so good to me) when arcade flirts back

sharing a bed - a pretty cheesy trope but caesar only has one bed in his tent and it would be a fun way for him to try and get arcade to like him. hes being so nice offering his huge comfy bed to arcade. the soldiers have to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor. come on arcade... don't you see what an honor it is...

ruler/consort - i fold this in to like, everything i do with them. arcade always becomes something more than just a slave or a doctor. he becomes caesar's closest advisor, his sole confidant. he also becomes a little voice in his ear pushing him and manipulating to do things (for the good of the wasteland) and caesar lets him because he's both so head over heels and damn it's sexy when arcade is playing with him. arcade being officially recognized as caesar's consort or spouse... its so goodddd

[radioactive-mouse]

hi lhmygosh YOU UNDERSTAND THEM SO MUCH.... Ive been unwell about them for. Oh desr god its december. Oh its been months. They compel me so much.

You absolutely get them so so much!!!! shota is absolutely 100% passively suicidal and I WILL argue this is supported by canon. he cares so hard and he sees oboro in his students. and he will do absolutely anything to save oboro so he throws himself into danger and he doesn't CARE how much he gets hurt and then that hurts zashi too because neither of these motherfuckers can EVERYONE see anything but that building!! all shota sees is oboro hurt, oboro dying, and anytime his students are in danger all he sees is that day and he HAS to save them. and then hizashi comes too late and all he sees is blood, all he sees is a boy who threw himself in front of those kids, all he sees is his best friend dying and he was TOO LATE.

like. god. you get it!! you absolutely get it. YOURE SO RIGHT ABT ALL OF IT takes your hand Yes lets skip through a field and talk about the sillies... Life is a dream!!! pleaseeee do elaborate about the sun/moon/sky thing? 👀👀 symbolism my beloved this sounds so good

OOHHHH MY GOD HELLO HI HI YOU . YOUUUUUU. YOU UNDERSTAND ME

GOD IM JUST SO. IT IS SO SO RARE TO FIND PPL WHO UNDERSTAND HIZASHI AND YOU ARE ONE OF THEM like yeah!!!!! he can be funny and silly but also uh. uuhhhmm. these are two deeply unwell and depressed people it’s just that shota kind of. checked out of his own brain and tunnel visioned on his one Thing and hizashi kind of worstened his already existing habit of throwing himself into situations where he is always too busy to think about anything and never has time to slow down because if he does he will completely fall apart. and they love each other!!! they do!!!!!! but i feel like there’s this tendency to like. make hizashi the More Stable one that has been trying to pull shota out of his depression tar pit but nnnooooo nooo like. they kind of constantly need to be holding each other above water because they will just drown on their own but also they are both not able to meet their own needs much less another persons. so the result is just. no one getting quite Enough and just sort of existing in near constant low level misery where they can’t let go of each other

and also it’s like. i think that’s the state they’re in Now but oh my GOD i think. those first couple of years after oboro’s death were fucking awful for their relationship and ughghhh fuucckk FUUUCCKCKK HANG ON WHERES RHE PAGE IM THINKING OF

THIS. THIS MAKES ME LIKE . ACTUALLY A LITTLE SICK TO THINK ABT. like fuck dude oh my god you can’t help him because he won’t let you but also you can’t stay away from him. you’ve tried. you always come back to each other eventually but all you can do is watch each other destroy yourselves because neither of you will allow the other to get genuinely close to you. in shota’s case obvs the like. actively shoving him away both out of a fear of losing someone that important to him again and because he kind of thinks he just needs to like. idk repent forever by eternally throwing himself into traffic for other people (which like uh yeah bbygirl for sure i believe you wanna be alive. yeah man) and like for hizashi it’s just. he misses shota and wants to be around him and care abt him but also he has this complete refusal to ever sit down and assess his own emotions and letting shota ever really know or help him would just. obliterate the constant perpetual motion he’s keeping up and the only way to deal with it is to just keep running himself into the ground

I. UUUUGGHHGHHHH THEY ARE SO ‼️ also i absolutely can get into sun/moon/sky thing in more detail i just have trouble articulating it but like. rruuauurhrhrhg. hizashi as the constant burning and bright Thing that keeps them all in motion, he’s all noise and light and can kind of just Go Forever until he runs out of fuel vs shota’s more calm static placement as the moon that keeps them steady, that tempers the tide and holds them in balance and makes them just slow down for a second to think and catch their breath

um. source: they are so silly

and. uugghgh UUUGGHHHHGGHH. oboro as the sky that holds them together and he is the Glue and the one that keeps them both from running off into different directions and getting distant and weird (which they were both. already prone to doing when he knew them to be so honest) but without him to be that tether they kind of end up doing exactly that. i think for those first few years especially they feel just. so far apart even if they sit right next to each other. because every time they look at each other they have to think about the space he left and they’re both running slightly off script without oboro there to preserve any kind of normalcy and they just. cannot let themselves slow down long enough to actually grieve what they’ve lost and find a new normal

ALSO THIS SHOT FROM MERRY GO ROUND MAKES ME FEEL SIIIIICCKKKKK LIKE. OH MY GOD THE CAT IN THE FOREGROUND OBVS BUT LIKE. THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM OUTLINED BY THE OPEN CLOUDY SKY YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS THIS IS INHUMANE

BUT YEAH LIKE. HOLY MOLY IVE BEEN YAPPING FOR A WHILE BUT THATS MY BIT. THANK U FOR COMPREHENDING MY INSANITY IVE BEEN GOING CRAZY ABT THEM FOR LIKE WEEKS

[inbeautifulruins]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

name: Myllie

pronouns :she/her

preference of communication :If you really need to get in touch with me right now, im me at burymeinprettylies.

name of muse(s) : *slow blink* I combined all of my blogs don't do this to me.

best experience: The friends I've made who have stuck with me through everything, the good the bad and the ugly. And the newer peeps in my circle as well. But let me give a shout out to @ladamereveuse & @theforsakenchronicles for having put up with my ass the longest. I stopped counting the years, but I met them when I first started this madness and they're still here. And it's not because I locked them in my basement. If they comment otherwise ignore them. They're lying.

rp pet peeves / dealbreakers : People who only want the dick of my male muses. Stop it. I have female muses. yes, sometimes I do prefer rping the males over the females, but that doesn't mean shit.

People who just assume I'm going to automatically ship every character of them. Just because we have a ship with one character doesn't automatically grant you permission to the rest of 'em. Chemistry needs to be established. People who assume my muses are stupid. We know what a library is, they've been around forever.

People who assume that just because it's canon I ship it. No. Canon is just a suggestion.

Itty bitty tiny winy pixelated icons where you can make out a nostril, at least i assume it's a nostril. I get aesthetics, but why does your aesthetic need a magnifying glass to see what the fuck is going on with the icon? Damn.

Okay last one, people who don't RP but continue to beg and whine that no one interacts with them. *whispers* spoiler alert, no one is interacting because of the passive aggressive posts. It's unattractive. no one wants to feel obligated to interact with you. And if you haven't reached out first...give that a try.

muse preferences : Depends on the day and the mood, it really fluctuates back and forth. Right now though? No one. Because I'm shadowbanned. YES I AM STILL MAD YES I AM STILL FIGHTING IT NO I AM NOT MOVING I REFUSE. now imagine a toddler having a fit. That's me.

plots or memes : Give. Me. All. The. Things.

long or short replies : I'm more of a middle ground girly. I can get winded, but my brain will stop in the middle and go SQUIRREL. ADHD homies unite.

best time to write: Early in the day for me, I try to at night but...

are you like your muse(s) : I want to say I'm not, or "god, I hope not" but when your friends look at you and say "Hey, you're like Danny Williams / Chimney Han / Archie Hopper / etc you start to wonder ...

Stolen from @cfthesoul

[cowboybrunch]

writerblr interview tag!

thank you for the tags @tragedycoded (here) @sableglass (here) and @saturnine-saturneight (here) <3 ive been meaning to get to this one for a minute sooo let's get into it

Short stories, novels, or poems?

i started with poetry, so it has a special place in my heart. all of my short stories turn into beasts. is it a cop out answer to say all of the above?

What genre do you prefer reading?

it'd be easier to list what genres i don't like. when i say ill read anything, i mean ill read anything. lately i've been on a sci fi kick (thanks Pierce Brown) but i love a good modern trashy romance as much as the next guy (i read the booktok sludge so you dont have to!) im not really a nonfiction guy but hey, if anyone has some recs, ill give em a shot

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

def NOT a planner. usually when i start writing i have a vague idea of where we start and where we need to end up, but what happens along the way is a surprise for everyone involved

What music do you listen to while writing?

SILENCE. sometimes white noise. i cant focus with music, brain gets jumbled

Favorite books/movies?

of all time? oh god for books, probably This Is How You Lose the Time War or The Song of Achilles but The Locked Tomb series is def up there. not a novel but i've read Bluets by Maggie Nelson so many times i probably have it memorized by now favorite movie is Zoolander, easy answer. that movie owns. i can watch it on repeat and ill never get sick of it

Any current WIPs?

Dust to Dust is still alive but im taking a bit of a hiatus before hopping into the final bit (tag is here if you wanna see me ramble about it) Felix Wonder is the fun time brain break WIP of choice currently and im working on draft 3 of Burden of the Reluctant Death (we will get to the ending this time. we will)

Create a character description of yourself: 

Elusive, or pretends to be. Too much energy in too small a body. Refuses to sit properly in a chair. Prone to fits of melancholy remedied by sunlight. Easily excitable, but fussy. Same outfit every day: big sweater, little pants, fuzzy socks. Nails bitten bloody but at least her hair is clean (if a bit too long for summer)

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

i could say no but that would make me a liar

Are you kill happy with your characters?

i was gonna make a joke but it would be spoilers soo. i write about grief. no way everyone makes it out alive

Coffee or Tea while writing?

coffee. i dont like tea (sorry sorry!)

Slow or fast writer?

im very much a burst writer so. flood or drought, no in between. lately i'd say SLOW but im just waiting for that spark u get me?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

this really isnt fantasy but i feel like i was destined to be the kind, slightly off-putting maintenance man in a haunted apartment building that says cryptic things like "don't take the east elevator on a full moon" and "the air conditioning has made that noise since the fire in 12B"

Most fav book cliche:

yea there's only one bed and ill eat it up every single time!!! also: "i didnt know where else to go" or basically any overdone romance trope you can think of. im here for it

Least favorite cliche:

if there's a cliche that i dont like, i havent found it yet

Favorite scene to write?

confession scenes of any kind! scenes where the big tough character breaks down. any kind of emotional revelation, positive or negative

Reason for writing?

words in head, need words out of head ok ok fine, serious answer. i feel like writing is both asking and answering the question, "have you felt like this before? has anyone ever felt like this before? am i alone?" and it's proof that you're not the first and only person to ever experience the things you're experiencing. even this made up guy in this pretend world understands rage and despair and joy and grief and love. the source is different but the result is the same. human connection, man. love it and! it's fun. im having fun

tag!!

@knightinbatteredarmor @friendlesscat @tildeathiwillwrite @glassonthewall @illarian-rambling

@mysticstarlightduck @dyrewrites @sarandipitywrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @xenascribbles

[phoenixfangs]

OMG PHOENIX OC PHOENIX OC?!?! SIGN ME UP I want to learn everything omggg For now tho, for the ask mmm lets go with ❗️, 🚨 and 🧣 if its not too much!!

WEEEEEEEEE THANK U THANK U im really happy with the positive reception feigas been receiving, it makes me feel like im Not an insane selfish weirdo for wanting to talk about her and like im Allowed to share my thoughts in a public forum without being beaten to death FDJSKLGHLSKJFDS my brain is broken ❤️

❗️what was the scariest moment of ur characters life? does it still affect them? | HHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMM well i look at her as having two distinct lives with distinct hardships: her childhood and her adulthood. so from her childhood, its definitely nebulous in my mind but its probably something to do with one of her siblings deaths, perhaps it was a very bad accident she was also involved in that she almost died from, but she happened to survive while her sibling didnt. probably a very violent, bloody accident with a lot of pain and suffering and being convinced that she will die without a miracle, only to be met with some cruel neutrality from her parents when that 'miracle' does occur and she survives/recovers. 'oh ur lucky to be alive, suppose it wasnt ur time', no celebration or care. probably put the fear of death in her that she ended up carrying with her into adulthood, one of the few things that Didnt get blocked out. as an adult, its probably her confrontation with riza and being told 'im not going to kill u' after shes been disarmed/beaten in the brawl because, if riza was refusing to kill her, it meant the drachman military would. i think i stole/modified the concept from the venture bros of an elite group of assassins/soldiers called 'the cleaners' whose responsibility it is to 'clean up' botch jobs, like feigas botch job trying to take out riza and roy, and they are much more cruel and sadistic than even feiga was to riza. she knows that if the cleaners get their hands on her, shes not just going to die, its going to be slow, painful, and miserable, and that fear of death, and of suffering, freezes her blood and makes her frantic and hysterical until rizas able to calm her down and agree to help her escape

🚨 whats ur characters relationship with the law? have they ever been arrested? what for? what are their opinions on law enforcement? | she lives outside of it and as an extension of it!! shes a political assassin, her vague 'assassin training' i keep alluding to is vague in my mind because i dont have it Fully fleshed out but to me its affiliated with the drachman military, perhaps a covert branch of some kind thats not officially sanctioned but the people in power dont care because its useful to have unsanctioned power. she has never been arrested in a typical sense, as a citizen who has broken a law, and as far as the upper brass is concerned, she either doesnt exist (to those not in the know about the situation) or, up until her defection, is a model soldier (unofficial, ofc, she has no real rank or place in the military but she is still one of Their dogs), an ideal enforcer of drachmas power. she initially has a lot of pride in her position as the best and most valuable, and is disdainful of any government/military besides her own, and doesnt view herself as the abused attack dog shes been beaten into. so much so that she derogatorily refers to roy and riza as filthy amestrian dogs, mutts, etc., simply for being soldiers, and also she hates them. seeing herself as the best, or being told shes the best, is a delusion/lie that she refuses to let go despite the Material Reality that there are assassins (the cleaners) who are Always going to be in a different league than her because she, unlike the cleaners, is still seen as capable of fucking up and becoming worthless. it isnt until her confrontation with riza and rizas influence telling her 'arent u mad at what theyve done to u?! they broke u until u were their best, and now theyre going to throw u away like ur nothing! the military is ur enemy! dont give them any more of urself, whether its ur body, ur pride, ur loyalty, or ur life! hit da bricks!!' that she decides YKNOW WHAT YEAH FUCK THIS and is able to finally redirect so much of her perceived hatred of riza more appropriately onto systems that lied to her and failed her and actively wanted to hurt her

BUT more broadly. jfdklsjfklsa. yeah shes never been a normal citizen so shes never had real experience with citizen-level crime or police

🧣 answered !

[sukugo]

Is ur blog still up or did Tumblr freeze it?

IT IS VERY MUCH STILL UP!!!! i was just away trying to be a functional human being and get shit done (aka my thesis) 😭😭

[dykeyote]

can we get a jeddiecore song list

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT YOUVE AWAKENED I LITERALLY AM CONSTANTLY WAITING FOR THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABT RHE SONGS I ASSOCIATE W JEDIDIAH . anyways im gonna do songs that like .... Lyrically match but also try to align them with vibes . so even if some jhariah songs fit im not putting that on its not the right energy . yk . sorry u probably just wanted like a List but im abnormal about music i associate w jedidiah so ur getting a whole infodump hence why this took like a whole day to write </3

uhhhh starting off again . obviously love love love by the mountain goats the whole examination of the things ull do for love and examining whether thats romantic or somewhat horrifying????? SO fucking him . also the vibes just match perfectly the like sad soft voice and the whole quiet ambience .... literally how id embody him in a song . also lyrics like:

this abt the ritual with love leading you into a "white and soundless place" (often how death is described) before "seeing each other face to face" (back to life and with him again) and:

this abt his guilt afterwards??? the way that jedidiah killing and reviving sydney for love haunts him every day?????? goes fucking crazy . it fits so well to me its the jeddie song of ever

another tmg song hes just tmg coded BUT cry for judas is extremely him to me .... the themes of guilt overlayed w religion especially using judas as a comparison w sydney as a christ figure ... goes crazy . particularly

this part at the beginning . it reminds me a lot of jedidiah avoiding sydney and hurting him and pushing away due to his own guilt as well as his self punishing behaviors plus obviously the themes of controlling time fit lol . i could overinterpret some other sections but i dont want to make this too rambling... but mainly this part makes me think of him and also lines like "sad and angry cant learn how to behave/still wont know how in the darkness of the grave" remind me of his weird lens of viewing sydney + the death themes that obviously call sydney to mind ...... also "some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes/but we are the ones who dont slow down at all" reminds me of jedidiah projecting onto juniper and rowan who work out their issues easily and jedidiah who cant . i ramble

next up uhhhhh self esteem by ajj is basic sadboy music but yknow what . he would listen to basic sadboy music and i have intense lyrical analyses so if you call me on that then i will riot in the streets . anyway so the entire song is about like ..... avoiding other people out of guilt and shame and thats just him!!!! thats him baby . the repetition of this place has taken all my self esteem reminds me of his avoidance of sydney and the camp out of it reminding him of his guilt and shame but some more specific lyrics that remind me of him are

reminds me of his refusal to leave his office because leaving means he'll see sydney and seeing sydney reminds him of his guilt . especially when paired w sydneys fear

this part in PARTICULAR is extremely jeddiecoded!!!! to extremes!!!!!! reminds me of the contrast between college jeddie being scared of yvonne compared with jeddie not being able to handle talking to juniper bc he cant stop projecting his own guilt onto him . hes cray cray that way

a: hes a pathetic little man <3 as well as reflecting his self hatred but let me be funny, b: the phrase "pathetic little dream" reminds me of lucille referring to sydney as his pet project in things like the patreon script preview of s2, and c: jedidiah simultaneously hates and longs for the concept of forgiveness so a song ending on that very note is insane to me

im not gonna include a proper analysis of trees and flowers by strawberry switchblade bc its REALLY more of a sydney song and putting it on a jeddiecore songlist would be evil bc of this but it fits a lil bit in my brain . the whole avoidance of the outside world and avoiding things you cant control like the trees and the buildings

an ode to a bunny i killed near the a19!!!! so jedidiahcore that its insane!!!!!! like it works so well for him that it has Double Meanings with both him having to tear apart the bunny and with him having to kill sydney cmon . its insanely jeddiecore . its hard to analyze this one lyric by lyric because its more of the Overall Feeling of it but the whole thing about agonizing over killing something and not being able to move on and all that nonsense . also the repetitive lines about not being able to do it and not being able to go through with it with the inevitible fact that theyll have to and they did is fucking insane for him because all of his like proper Murders are both like .... described very clinically without a lot of emotion but seem to have left a HUGE emotional impact on him that implies that at least internally there was a lot of emotions bound up in it even if its not necessarily visible. sydneys death is described incredibly clinically but clearly fucking wrecked him to go through with it, killing the bunny is described very matter of factly but he apparently hates doing that kind of thing, the pigs ritual is described very matter of factly but apparently horrified him so much that he cant eat pork anymore, etc etc

heart for brains by roar is more of a sydidiah song (heart-for-brains being sydney) but ill focus on the part that reminds me of jedidiah bc these arent SEDDIEcore songs theyre JEDDIEcore songs

this part always reminds me of like . a VERY harsh awakening on jedidiahs part of how hes acting . very "i miss you im such a fucking idiot"core lol . because jedidiah Is incredibly cold and avoidant to sydney and it Has paid him well, but also hiding all his secrets and avoiding ever confiding in anyone hurts him just as much and doesnt make anything better or easier for himself like he thinks it does

who could win a rabbit by animal collective is a hard song to analyze lyrically lol its a lot of rambling . but it always reminds me of how others view jedidiah because of this whole idea of CONSTANTLY working and constantly being busy and never taking time to relax and enjoy things as well as the repetitive rabbit motifs reminding me of the whole rabbit scene . also iv generally thougth that jedidiah doesnt properly eat well or drink much during that time bc obvoiusly hes not spending time doing that so "eat it like its gonna get away/your coffee sure is getting colder" with leaving drinks untouched and eating food quickly to get back to work always reminds me of him

poor grammar also by roar is more how sydney Feels about jedidiah as opposed to like how jedidiah feels but im including it bc it fits .... SO insanely well that i can talk about it for ages

theres this sense with how sydney percieves the way that their relationship grew and transitioned from being teens to being adults that jedidiah didnt mature and commit to the relationshipt he way that an adult would be expected to and that made sydney grow more ad more dissatisfied and thats what this line reminds me of

this feels like . the EPITOME of pre-sydney running away seddie to me . like absolutely 100% to a t it feels like how jedidiah attempts to interact with sydney . he cant say anything outright he cant Tell sydney anything he cant outright say that he has to avoid sydney but cant handle it . he cant handle properly comforting sydney . so he just shakes and stammers and mumbles his way through a "comforting scene"

and again this is just a lot more of like . id have to do a lot more sydney analysis here and again this is like a jedidiah song list so thats not erally the point lol ..... but the whole "how am i supposed to get through" having ad ouble meaning of "how can i get through to you when youll never talk to me" and "how can i get through this without you" and the "try repeating once again this time with feeling" wanting jedidiah to express proper emotion and love to him again and "premeditated like some sick joke waited all night for you" reminding me of things like the tower building competition .... yk how it is

and obviously never love an anchor is the jedidiah song of ever but like you could watch the animatic to understand that . no explanation i could give would do better than just watching tha damn animatic

i could probably come up with more but oh my god ive gone on too long </3 but yes those are my fav jeddiecore songs

[subway-boss-jericho]

Hey all! Announcement stuff!

Thank you to everyone who has been very patient with me. I swear to god i could turn into one of those Ao3 authors thats like "hahaha sorry i havent updated in so long i died and then came back to life and then i had to work 7 jobs" and im being so fucking brave about it!! ANYWAYS THATS NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT!

Tomorrow is the 1 Year anniversary of steady tracks chapter 1! 🥳(and also my birthday. yes that was on purpose)

So! I wanted to give you all some updates and stuff to look forward to because oh god it sure has been an entire fucking year since I uploaded stuff and I refuse to feel bad about it but my brain is trying so hard to make me! I am working on chapter 2. Progress has been terribly slow because of severe life events, thank you for your understanding.

So!! What's next? Well, over the summer I am really fucking hoping to finish chapter 2. I know I keep saying this but literally i stg. I'm going apeshit. do you know how hard it is to think about something for an entire year and never have the time, motivation, or energy at the same time to make it exist?? fucked up!! Before that though, I have a few things.

I TOLD you all that I would talk about an AU of mine, whichever was highest voted in that strawpoll I did, and then surprise i fuckin didnt do that. I would very very much like to do that! The problem, I realized, is that I operate super hard on a reactionary basis so I am not prone to talking about anything that is mine until prompted about it or given permission. Fucking, Wack. This is my house. I should be cringe and free but nooooo. Anyways, because of this, I am planning on doing 2 things -> Actually tell you guys about spirit keeper! You all voted for him back when, and especially with that ✨Fucking, Gorgeous✨ commission from Fronomeeps I got (for me birthday :]) I really really really want to do that. And post my art more. and shit like that. seriously i need to get out of my head or I'll explode. someone needs to scream about how cool these stories are with me or I'll dissolve. -> I am thinking of doing a day long event where I stream an Aggie/(Magma?) where I draw my AUs and let people hop in to join in (as long as it stays on topic!) as well as answering as many asks as I can about my many aus and basically setting you guys up to trick me into infodumping. Because let me tell you i have a year and a halfs worth of words in my head and i am 100% confident ingo and emmet enjoyers would really like to hear them. So I wanna do a big ask party Q&A and really get things rolling!! Hopefully with drawings and doodles involved! as a celebration for myself, and as a way to open up to the greater fandom (Please leave a comment if you think that sounds cool, I'm trying to gauge interest because if i went all out and no one showed up it would be Extremely Depressing!)

ON! THAT! TOPIC!!! I am actively (literally interspersed with as I am typing this) making a UQUIZ about all of my significant AUs. For the record, there are 23 results on this quiz. I currently only have 3/23 final results completed, but it is my active focus over the weekend to finish as many of those as I can to try and complete the entire thing within a week or less. Also poking at my phrasing here, when I say my significant aus I Mean It, I have more than 23, but these 23 are the ones with stories tangible enough to start somewhere and elaborate on. I have about 10 that I would consider my main AUs, but some of the smaller ones are huge sleeper favorites.

SO YEAH!!! PLEASE LOOK FORWARD TO THAT AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU'RE INTERESTED!! I really wanna do fun stuff and get to know people in the fandom more than just. that person who wrote 1 chapter of a cool fic that one time. I have so much more to offer and I struggle so much to offer it. Please draw me out of my shell, I wish to enter the fandom sphere 🥺

thank you for giving me a great year <3 ((and hopefully the next one will be better <3))

[crushcandles]

Before I get into my thoughts on this episode, I want to say thanks to everyone who’s answered my questions and jumped into conversations with me about this season. I nearly always feel way behind in fandom, and I am so appreciative of anyone willing to slow the train down to let me on, even when I’m late to the station. The best part about watching TV is talking about TV, and you’ve all been the best.

Two and a half hours of observations and thoughts after the jump.

S4E9:

The best thing Hopper’s done all season is be beat to shit. Hubba hubba.

Omg everyone in their best Resident Evil cosplay. They all look great! (And Steve, Nancy, Robin and Eddie are so hot ofc)

I’m very interested in how the dialogue choices are written. Does Eddie say “Make ‘im pay” because he’s 18 in 1986 and regurgitating the action movies he was probably watching about 6 days ago, or does he say “Make ‘im pay” because the writers are lazy and making a boring no-brainer choice? This is not the only time I’ve had this thought this season.

I love Argyle, and I love every employee of Surfer Boy Pizza.

Again, I would love to see this foursome (+ optional Dustin) trapped in the Upside-Down for a longer period of time. Let me see what happens when they’re trying to survive for weeks.

Jonathan reaching out to Will while they make a pizza freezer sensory deprivation tank was really lovely. That relationship has really faded into the background but is really believable (the kid who plays Will can act).

I take issue with the sensory deprivation tank itself though. You know what’s a lot of sensation? Four people looming over an open tank and speaking to you.

Max confessing in the cool blue light while Lucas and El watch in their separate silences is so sad and beautiful.

Phase 3 being Eddie playing electric guitar to draw a monster charge is so super silly but I love it anyway. And him and Dustin celebrating was very kid brother and middle brother shenanigans.

Robin and Nancy holding hands for ONE SINGLE SECOND I AM DYING I AM ALIVE I AM LIVING @likecastle HOLD ME

Robin, Nancy and Steve getting fucked-up by vines? Hell yes.

The intercutting of Eddie fighting the monsters with El mindfighting Vecna with Lucas and whatever that guy’s name is physically fighting is great.

I really appreciate that it’s Max with El for much of this episode; Max is El’s most interesting and rich relationship.

I can’t tell if Stranger Things explains the Upside-Down too much, not enough, or I’m just too much of a dummy to wrap my brain around the whole concept and my inability to retain the info stems from that.

“You’re the heart!” - Mike, Will, give me a damn break. Sell me that line in S1.

Max!! :(

The idea that El is having a mind-altering, motive-changing meta fight with Vecna while Nancy, Robin and Steve are straight-up molotov cocktailing and shooting his body is so funny. Nancy is a BAMF though.

The remixing of Running Up That Hill while some of the ST music is awesome.

Don’t care about Hopper v Demogorgon. The adults storyline has been pointless aside from keeping the adults from helping the kids. They could have let Hopper be dead at the end of S3 and skipped all of this.

Very sad for Eddie, and for Dustin. I love how sharp Dustin and Steve are with each other, but the soft siblingness of Eddie and Dustin is so encouraging and generous.

While I am bummed about Eddie, I am not at all surprised. It’s the ensemble show way to bring in new characters to mix things up and then getting rid of them while refusing to kill or change core characters. I think it’s frequently a worse choice but people get attached and are afraid of change, so what are you gonna do?

The splitting of the world effect is so cool.

Byers and Co coming back to the wrecked Hawkins is NOT the end of the season??

Everyone seems supremely chill considering everything that’s happened. What intense and ongoing trauma? Who cares about her.

Robin, my love, get over Anne of Green Gables! Crush on Nancy instead. Their conversation is cute though.

I would argue that Dustin’s the heart of Stranger Things, if anyone is. He’s so much more than the annoying know-it-all by this point.

(Unrelated to the ending of the episode, but I just looked out into the back alley to see a near-perfect Eddie lookalike smoking and riding a hoverboard in the rain - incredible!!)

I wish the episode had ended on the spinning coke bottle. It’s a very poignant image.

(He’s still going! He’s so cool!)

And back to Will. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

+

Overall: It’s a bit bumpy, but I had a lot of fun. The pacing escalates well, but it was stuffed beyond the brim with a lot of busy storylines. I’m very sad to see the tide come in and pretty quickly go out on some new, interesting characters but did enjoy getting to spend some time with them. I’m excited for S5 and hope it can finish strong. Doubly excited to be able to understand fandom now!