#*has never hit the limit before apparently*

[doesnotloveyou]

Don Johnson Filmography - Free Links!

Instead of you spending countless joyful hours trawling the web for grainy old '70s flicks, I did it for you! Here's a list of FREE places to watch DJ's stuff.

This list will be in reverse chronological order as they appear on IMDb. Some are just placeholders until (if) better links can be found, and some are bootlegs from other countries. I'm excluding music videos since those aren't hard to find.

And if you want to skip boring/annoying plot but don't want to miss him, I've made a key:

MC (main character) - much of the story involves his character and he is onscreen often

SC (side character) - only part of the story involves his character, so he's onscreen far less often than other characters

C (cameo) - he's got one or two scenes and they're small, in which case I'll mark his appearances in 0:00:00 format

I'm leaving most content warnings to viewer discretion, but some I don't feel comfortable ignoring. Also, some of the YouTube vids may get taken down at any moment :( If you like something, back it up! I'm using KMPlayer to download my faves, but I've heard you can also use VLC.

>> Links below cut! <<

First, check out my list from Tubi which has the most high quality versions of his work and TV appearances. If it's on Tubi, it won't be on this post!

Home Movie: The Princess Bride - (C, 0:41:30) the entire film is hilarious, especially if you've seen the original; made by a bunch of celebs during quarantine.

Knives Out - (SC) ok, there's no link, but i'm begging you to go buy this movie on DVD it's like $5-$10 tops in stores these days.

Moondance Alexander - (SC, 0:18:20)

Just Legal - (MC, eight episodes)

Word of Honor - (MC) this vid has "helium" audio and other insufferable flaws.

Goodbye Lover - (SC, login req)

In Pursuit of Honor - (MC) WARNING: animal death/abuse

G.I. Joe: The Movie - (SC, voice only, 0:30:35...) spare yourself, skip this movie that he probably did for his kid.

Tales of the Unexpected - (SC; one episode)

Matt Houston - (SC; one episode)

Melanie - (SC)

Soggy Bottom, U.S.A. - (SC; German dub) clips of his character.

Elvis and the Beauty Queen - (MC; Portuguese subtitles)

Revenge of the Stepford Wives - (SC, 0:12:40, 0:25:15...) he has multiple scenes including one at the end, but these movies stress me out.

Beulah Land - (SC) only in part 1, but his character is replaced by a young Jonathan Frakes in part 2. WARNING: non-graphic rape

From Here to Eternity - (C, one episode, 0:07:10, 0:36:00)

The Rebels (MC, two-parts)

Amateur Night at the Dixie Bar and Grill - (SC, 0:13:39...)

First, You Cry - (SC, first scene, 0:24:20, 0:44:20, 0:57:07, 1:15:38, 1:32:16)

Katie: Portrait of a Centerfold - (C, 0:19:48, 0:32:19, 0:44:03...) can't stomach this film to find the rest of his scenes, he's a very minor character.

The American Girls - he's not in this! the main male character is played by the lovely Charles Haid from Hillstreet Blues, but it isn't listed on Haid's IMDb. Also, the character he plays does not go by the name DJ is listed under for that episode, so maybe DJ's in a different one? Regardless, I only found two episodes and DJ is in neither.

Ski Lift to Death - (SC) he shows up in the second video...don't make me watch this.

What Really Happened to the Class of '65? - TV spot w/ the only footage of him that I can find.

Cover Girls - (SC, 0:27:21, 0:40:40, 01:01:15...)

The City - (MC) costarring Mark Hamil

Barnaby Jones - (SC, one episode) I watched this and now it's missing...it sucked anyway. DJ plays an amateur arms dealer with a sickly son, a wife in jail, and a hideous mustache. He loses.

The Streets of San Francisco - (SC, one episode)

Law of the Land - (MC)

Return to Macon County - (MC) login to YT req but there is also a Spanish dub that doesn't req login. costarring Nick Nolte

A Boy and His Dog - (MC) this version has the nude scenes edited out, sign in to YT for the full cut; much higher quality than Tubi. WARNING: rape, etc.

The Rookies - (SC, one episode) costarring Nick Nolte

Kung Fu - making an executive decision here uhhh skip this one

The Harrad Experiment - (MC; two-parter w/ odd in-video ads that you can easily fast forward) WARNING: they all get naked

The Bold Ones: The New Doctors - (MC, one episode)

Lollipops, Roses and Talangka - (SC; some scenes in Tagalog) can't find the 1975 sequel or much information on English sites, but one Filipino fanblog implies the film may no longer exist.

Zachariah (MC)

Endlessly impressed by how much has been preserved and curated over the years. Even if a ton of it was junk, it's nice to save people's hard work and memories :)

........................................................................................................................

[munch-mumbles]

ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on

[shoveitevil]

god. why does no one care about me in this damned house

[steddie-there]

Steve is bitchy. It's a known fact. He's a reformed mean girl and bitch is like a second language to him. Whether it's scathing commentary about Family Video customers almost before they're out the door,

"So apparently it's national hit on someone young enough to be your granddaughter day, who knew we had such a gross holiday?"

snarky conversations with the kids,

"Well, whaddya know, Dustin, would you look at this?" "What? "It's the coke you said wasn't in the fridge! Isn't it amazing how it just magically appeared?" "Oh, shut up, Steve." "I'm just so completely in awe!"

or calling out the people that still give Eddie nasty looks (and doesn't that make Eddie's heart grow three sizes and threaten to pop out of his chest and burrow into Steve's?),

"You know, Carol, if you keep making that face, it might stick like that. But look on the bright side, at least then the outside would be as hideous as the inside!"

Eddie adores all of it. Loves Steve's mile-wide mean streak. Loves how he can use it to tease the people he loves or decimate the latest idiot he's been forced to deal with.

But Eddie's favorite, the best, the most wonderful, absolutely fantastic moments of Steve's bitchiness? Those happen while he's driving. It doesn't matter what exactly has him riled up about another driver, Steve always has something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue to bitch about them with.

"Do you look as stupid as you drive? Dumbass."

"Jeeze, I never knew the white line was for driving on. What an amazing thing you've discovered!"

"Oh, apparently I missed the memo where 35 mph got changed to 55. Eddie, remind me to check the speed limit sign the next time we drive through here. God, what an impatient asshole."

No matter what it is, it always has Eddie stifling his laughter behind his hand. But this last time - they're at a four-way stop and the car turning across from them definitely went before it was their turn and Steve says, "Hmm, seems someone missed the lesson on taking turns in kindergarten," with that little bitchy tilt to his head - Eddie can't help the guffaw that bursts out of his mouth.

Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye. "What are you giggling about?"

"You. You just - you get so bitchy at the other drivers and, I swear to god, man, it's the funniest shit." He laughs again, says fervently, "Christ, I love you, Stevie."

And then he freezes. Realizes what he said. Takes a deep, horrified breath. It's too soon, they only just started dating, he can't say something like that, he's... He backtracks. "Uh... I mean, uh, I love when you - "

And then freezes again when Steve slides his hand off the steering wheel and onto his thigh, fingers curling around the inside. "So, you love me, huh?"

Eddie chances a glance over at Steve. Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there's something soft around his eyes and the edges of his smile. Something almost... hopeful.

Eddie swallows and decides fuck it. "Yeah, yeah I do," he tells Steve quietly.

Steve makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Eddie's heart. When he peeks over again, Steve is looking back and forth between Eddie and the road and his expression is so open and tender and happy that Eddie doesn't regret for a second what he said, even if it is too soon. "I love you, too, Eds," Steve says and Eddie feels his stomach swoop with butterflies. He puts his hand on Steve's, squeezes it, tangles their fingers together, grins bright at this man he loves so very much.

And if, after that, Steve goes out of his way to play up his bitchiness whenever Eddie is in the car and Eddie never stifles his laughter at it again, well, that's between the two of them, isn't it?

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages

masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??

there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.

i. words of affirmation

initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.

and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.

most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.

ii. gifts

he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.

and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)

all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”

iii. acts of service

simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).

from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”

and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.

iv. quality time

such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.

he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.

v. physical touch

simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.

but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.

from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Just sexual tension in this chap hehe, more explicit as we go. Gojo is really a dick at first FYI

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 4,165

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? . You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished. This was my first gojo fic so maybe a Lil less put together than my current ones

Masterlist-

Chapter 1

You looked up at him from your desk. You were tired, so damn tired. You needed a fucking break, a long one. Your mind wanders to that vacation away from Tokyo that will never happen, not because you don’t have vacation days or money. Nope, it was  because you work far too fucking much, twelve to sixteen hour days sometimes. For him, your damn boss, Satoru Gojo.

Always asking you to stay late, always running his errands, saving his ass, covering for him. Writing speeches, making presentations, finding him dates even. When Gojo wanted something, he got it, and it didn't matter if it ruined every plan you ever had, you had to get it done for him.

He ran casinos, owned a hotel, a nightclub, you name it, Satoru Gojo owned it. He’d inherited some from his family but mostly he was self made. Even the tower you worked in, Kamo Tower, was one of the best in the city. Everything Gojo touched seemed to turn to gold, or better yet platinum.

You had been so excited two years ago to be his intern, then ecstatic when you quickly moved up the ranks to be his head assistant. You made good money, enough to send home to your family and take care of them too. But you literally were constantly at that man's beck and call.

Your tired eyes lower as you rest your chin on your hand for a moment, for even last night at two am you'd had to run to his fucking rescue.

You were asleep, but the phone never stops fucking buzzing.

Dick boss: I need you.

You: no.

Dick boss: triple OT pay?

You: fuck. What is it?

Dick Boss: I'm in a bit of a bind…

The bind? Three passed out naked women in his bed, and a room destroyed, that he needed to get fixed so he could sleep. Yeah.

The night before? Well he had urgently needed you to pick out his outfit for his soiree, he was too coked out to pick apparently. And Gojo Satoru had so many three piece suits, ties and shoes, it was actually disgusting.

Nanami Kento walks up to you, overworked from his own boss in the building, a trait you two share as head assistants. He hands you a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, with your name written on it in sharpie, clearly from one of the coffee shops nearby. If you had time to have a fucking life you would have flirted with him, for sure. Maybe he would have, too?

Dirty blonde and handsome, his suit stretched across his muscles just so… and fuck if he didn’t look like he needed a damn vacation too.

“Long night?” Kento asked, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused and tired expression on his face. You sigh, nodding.

“Thank you for the coffee. I owe ya one.” You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper, but he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all. Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know.

“We don’t really get birthdays.”

“Haha no we don’t. But thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looked disgusted as he shook his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as Nanami walked off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, you must go to him. Your eyes roll.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, tapping your glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“My office.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was a source of annoyance for you.

“Coming.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and sipping your coffee. The office coffee usually went cold daily with the amount of shit you had to do. You smooth down your dress, adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, woodsy and fresh, a signature fragrance that lingered in the space, distinctive to Gojo.

As you enter, you see Gojo himself reclining casually in a lavish chair, his signature Gucci sunglasses on, covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciated because he made shit hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

“Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all.” He smirked, arrogant. You grit your teeth. “You have two meetings today, Sir, one for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that, I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.” You sigh, shutting the door behind you, resting your aching head against it.

“I asked for tonight off.” You murmur, and Gojo scoffs, grinning, damn fangs like some vampire glinting from the sun that beamed in. He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“I'll pay you well. Plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit. Drinks and food.”

“As your date?” You blink, pursing your lips.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario.” He laughed at his own joke, a habit he certainly had.

“Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially me . I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy. I need you, law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too. So it’s a no brainer.” You sighed, the comment about eye candy biting.

Men hit on you pretty frequently, any time you weren’t working, which you could not say was very often. But of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to look like a model, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty… is what you're saying.”

He pauses then, frowning at you. “You're very pretty.” He'd never said that. He'd barely complimented your work. You catch your breath; looking up at him, curious how he had gotten just an inch away.

“‘Not eye candy.’”

“We'll no, you dress kinda boring… like business and shit. Not sexy at all. I mean I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit?”

You snort. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks. But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.” Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted.

You were almost immune to that by now.

“It's my fucking birthday and you want me to do overtime?” You demand, and frowns with those full lips.

“Birthday?” Gojo looks confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient.

“Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe. But it’s my third birthday here, and you never give me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have plans, hot shot?” Gojo chuckles, his tone mocking.

No. Sure don't. “Yep.” You lie. He knows.

“Cancel em.” He shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl.

“No.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments.

“No?” No one turned Gojo down. No one ever told the gorgeous CEO no. His six foot four frame hunched as he placed an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features. You bravely glare back up at him.

“No. Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday.”

“Have fun with me. And make killer money. Win win.”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm.” He tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact. “I'll make it fun. Promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

“I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too.”

“You're my best, though, I need you.”

Bastard.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a breath as he backs away. “Good. I'll have the outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this one.”

“Probably not. Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?” Your cheeks overheat. Though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a damn vagina, and it reacted to him. He chuckled deeply, turning away and waving a hand. “You're dismissed.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just work. Work for Gojo.

***

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh.” You grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup, for once having fun with it. If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it. Lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your white day bed. You sigh, opening it finally, and you blink rapidly as you look at the gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of Gojo himself. You gently pulled out the gown and most of your irritation died off.

Black and decked with sequins, it glittered in the light, it was a velvety fabric, as soft as a caress. As you slid it on it glided over your curves, accentuating the nip at your waist, the arch of your hips. The neckline plunged ridiculously low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work. You wonder how Gojo knew you had just so much up top…

Pervert is what he was.

Pervert with killer taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your well toned thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was if he truly knew every measurement you had, for the dress could not have hit any better. Those damn analyzing eyes of his…

You spun to look at the back of the dress, which dipped daringly as well, exposing an expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You rummage through your little cherry wood jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress. Luckily, everything went well with black, so you snatched up a pretty silver cross necklace and earrings.

A text pops up, and you read it.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, then slide on a pair of black heeled boots, contemplating putting on underwear. Did it matter what kind? It wasn’t like you’d had any dick since like college at this point. And you definitely weren’t fucking Gojo, since neither of you were interested.

You because you saw the girls he fucked. Him because… you weren’t ‘arm candy’. Or a dumb ass bimbo. Sometimes you wished you were, since they seemed sweet and happy in life, while you drowned.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…”

Fucking Gojo. Ugh. You decide to slide on some lacy boy shorts, just in case that slit did go too high you’d have some coverage. Peeking one last time at the mirror, you had to admit you looked beautiful. You text Gojo.

You: Coming now.

You locked up and headed down the stairs of the apartment building, and there was Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was your age now. That boggled your mind more than Nanami. Gojo wore people out, very clearly, but even you had it easier than Kiyotaka.

“My lady.” He said sweetly, and you smiled at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head rested back so that his throat was exposed. His head snapped down, and he looked right at you, no sunglasses, only those eyes. His lips parted, and you tensed, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one.

He blinked those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shut the door, gaze taking you in ever so slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head a bit.

“Thank you for the dress.” You cut him off. He exhaled, nodding.

“Of course. Consider it my birthday gift. You look… really fucking hot.”

You giggled at that. Not beautiful or breathtaking. But you’d take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you now, and you shiver a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t dress like this at work.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so.” His fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sent tingles through your body. Why was he so close? “I’m buying you a new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are. I like to be professional, unlike you.” You smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grew cold without the touch.

“You do really look good.” You took in his outfit, a black tux, which fit his slim muscles perfectly. It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear. Maybe Gojo was some super hero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too. You always do.”

“I know.” He winked at you, leaning forward to snatch up champagne and pop it, pouring you both glasses. You took one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, taking a sip of the sweet drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious.” You lick your lower lip and find him a breath away. You don’t move, but you’re frozen, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asked softly. You have never seen Gojo like this.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl.” He gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? The fuck, Satoru. Yes I was thinking of it, an seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny. His eyes study your own seriously.

“If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.” Each word was bit out, distinctive, and his hand tightened in your hair, far too strong, yanking your head back. You scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, would I?” You challenged him, notching your chin up a bit. He laughed but it was without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office? How many have you had to send home? You think I don’t know how to fuck the shit out of you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t even be able to walk.”

Gojo’s whisper was against your lips, and you could taste whiskey on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucked on. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him…

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it. You don’t want me anyway. Not your type.” He snorted, and one of his big hands came to your waist, touching the bare skin of your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?” You nod. His thumb brushed under your breast, an action that made the peaks of your breasts tighten, aching against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down. You cursed yourself. “The women who entertain me aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm.” It grew difficult to focus. You sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightened, and it made you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any. I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off of you. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know. I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

“As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit.” You grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slapped him then. Slapped your Boss. Slapped Satoru Gojo.

His hand caught your wrist, brutally squeezing, pale cheek just hinted with pink from your mark.

“Ring a little true?”

“I can get fucked if I want.” You yank your hand back.

“I didn’t say that. Clearly you can get fucked. It’s just you don’t even want to and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time.” Gojo’s eyes widened at that, and his grip on your waist became brutal. “Yep. Sure would. He’s built as fuck, oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would. So does that answer it for you?”

Gojo bared his teeth at her, a little blue vein in his temple popping out. Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears. “You… would fuck… Nanami… Kento?”

Each of his words were forced through his teeth.

Ah, you made him mad.

Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot.” You try to shrug casually.

“Out of anyone in the office?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Including me.”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a dude…

Look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his piercing one. You gulp, licking your lips.

“No.”

“No, what?” His voice was a wicked caress.

“No… not including you. Goddammit. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffed. “You’re childish.”

“You!” You shoved at him again, and he let you go, grabbing your glass and refilling it, watching you like a hawk. “It changes nothing. I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better.” He sounded sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downed his own glass.

“You think fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot. I’m the best fuck there is.” He shrugged, some of that casual demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…”

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words.” You scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by.

“Are we there yet?”

“Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm. Or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag.”

“I do not! And I am not!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You felt your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks.

“Oh, do tell.” He practically purred.

“Cut the shit, Satoru. You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off in women. Or on them.” He shrugged, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!”

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe.” You blinked, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.” Gojo lifted your hand, already small but ridiculously small in his own, swallowed by him. “They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper shook you to your core.

You burned, breathless, as he held out his own hand to yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of a dude’s dick. Likely larger than the couple of dude’s in college, which was about all of your experience. He grinned as you stared on, palm hot and hard against your own.

“I… you…” You wanted to cuss him out. Quit right then.

You also wanted his fingers in you.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood. We don’t have to have sex for that.” His hand took your own, putting your hand by your heat, between your thighs.

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You managed to breathe out, but you had no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to ride your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant.” Gojo’s supple lips kiss down your jaw, firm but delicate, as his hand brutally grabs yours and shoves it against yourself, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a whisper. You want it. And you hate him. You hate that your pussy is pulsing against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan in your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came. Gojo slid his own finger against your panties, pausing, moaning again, pulling back to look at you.

He was gorgeous.

Your chest rose and fell with your breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and something was just different. You saw Gojo with women, always so self assured. But something seemed surprised, vulnerable, when his long finger pressed against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. You arched your hips up, and his fingertip ran up slightly, pressing more, and Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady.”

Fuck.

You two shot apart, and you struggled to catch your breath, adjusting your dress, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo adjusted his pants, not even looking at you, clearing his throat. You cursed as you saw his tie.

“You can’t tie a tie for shit, Satoru.” You leaned over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it. You noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was quiet. Satoru Gojo, quiet. “There.”

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, and your eyes met.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opened the door, exposing them to some cool night air, and you got out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

Chapter 2

Completed fic on ao3, will post chaps on here as well

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140629990

[di-writes-stuff]

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Hiii I love your account! 🐇 with Rafe please and “You’re so annoying” and “you look pretty like this” if I can pick two hehe

Omg thank you so much!! Of course you can pick two! I hope you like it! Thank you to my angel @babygorewhore for beta reading🖤🤭

This is for my 1.6k celebration🎀🖤

Warnings: Reader is Topper’s sister, enemies to fucking?, blow job, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, a lil bit of degradation. 18+MNDI!! W.k: 1.7k

Rafe has been driving you nuts since, well, as long as you can remember, but he’s driving you especially insane today. All you wanted to do was lay by the pool with your fruity little drink and read your dirty romance novel. But no, apparently Rafe didn’t want you to have a moment of peace while you were home from college for the summer. Why your brother had to choose him as a best friend and then also choose to stick with it for this long is beyond you. So he was just always around and it seemed like lately you couldn’t escape him no matter what you did.

The minute they got to the house with beers you asked Topper if they’d fuck off and chill inside but Rafe insisted they hang out in the back.

“It’s nice out, and I just can’t pass up this view.” He smirks at you as he leans back in one of your mom’s plush patio chairs, his eyes drinking in your barely there bikini.

“Rafe, that’s my sister man, how many times do I have to tell you that she’s -“ Rafe cuts Topper off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“She’s off limits, yeah, yeah, I know the fuckin’ drill Top.” That doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you every ten seconds. Sending you subtle little winks over Topper’s shoulder, practically fucking you with his eyes and you hate how much you like it. You can’t stand how much your body betrays you when it comes to Rafe fucking Cameron. He makes you want to rip your hair out, he’s arrogant, rude, and a classic spoiled preppy frat boy in every way. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so god damn sexy.

“The fact that you guys are being so fucking loud that I can hear you with my music on full blast is actually insane to me.” You slam your book shut as you dramatically pull your headphones off your head.

“Maybe you should stop being so fucking boring and come chill with us then.” Rafe blows out a hit as he holds the bong towards you. “Wanna hit?”

“You? Never.” You scoff, crossing your arm as you glare over at him.

“You think you’re reaaal clever, huh? I know you’re lying, you want me so bad.” Rafe snorts, setting the bong down on the table before leaning back in the chair with his arms behind his head and his legs spread. Fuck.

“You know what? I’m over this. Bye.” You shake your head as you grab your things, making sure to send Rafe a death glare on your way inside the house.

You’re inside for maybe five minutes when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Fuck off, Top! I’m changing, I don’t wanna hear how sorry you are for how much of an asshole Rafe is for the millionth time!”

“Exactly how big of an asshole am I? Huh, princess?” The sound of Rafe’s voice on the other side of your door has you practically growling as you storm towards it and rip it open.

“You’re so annoying, Rafe, you know that!? You’re like a fucking fly or some shit, always buzzing around with no real thoughts in your head!!!” You glare up at him as your eyes meet his own, stomping your foot in frustration.

“You look pretty like this, ya know?” He rests his hand on the side of the door frame as he smirks down at you.

“Like fucking what, Cameron!?”

“All pissed off at me n’ shit.” He chuckles, leaning down further so his face is only a few inches from your own. His breath smells like weed and beer but his lips are so fucking kissable that it actually just pisses you off more. “I think you’re just mad because you wanna fuck me and you’re in denial about it.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t even know if you believe yourself because you sound so full of shit.

“I mean, yeah. It also doesn’t hurt that you still have on that tiny little bikini…” He wets his lips with his tongue as his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. He drags his thumb across your glossy bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “I don’t hear you denying it, baby.”

“I - You know what? Fuck it.” You practically lunge forward to lace your fingers into the material of his shirt using the grip to pull his mouth down to yours in a bruising kiss. He grips onto your hips, pulling you until you’re flush against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth and practically devours you before pulling away with a fucking smirk painted on his face.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew you wanted me.” He bites his lip while he looks down at you like he won the fucking lottery.

“Shut up, don’t be a fuck boy about it or I’m not letting you anywhere near my pussy, Cameron.” You glare up at him with your lips set into that irritated little pout that makes him want to shove his cock between them.

“Your pussy? Shit, baby, you gonna let me fuck you? I’ve been wanting to wipe that bratty fuckin’ look off your face for years.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I wanna wipe that cocky fucking look off of yours.” You grab onto his hand, pulling him through the doorway, practically slamming it closed behind him. You push him up against it before dropping to your knees and making quick work of undoing his shorts.

“Shit, been fuckin’ dreaming about that pretty little mouth around my cock nonstop.” You pull his cock free and you can’t even hide the shocked look on your face at the sight of it. He was fucking huge. Long and thick and so fucking hard, god you can’t stand him.

“No wonder you’re so fucking arrogant, you would have a fucking monster cock.” You roll your eyes as you look up at him and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to say some smug bullshit so you grab onto his shaft and spit on it.

“Oh fuckkk, yeah, get it all fuckin’ wet.” He laces his fingers through your hair with a groan when you start to jerk him off. You pump him a few times before smirking up at him and taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. “God damn, baby, knew you had a mouth on you but shit.”

You pull almost all the way off of him, just sucking his tip as you swirl your tongue around it, flicking it along the slit. You work the rest of him with your spit slick palm as you look up at him. And god. He drives you insane in every fucking way. He looks so hot, you hate him for looking so hot. His mouth is hanging open as grunts and profanities leave it. Those ocean blue eyes keep rotating between boring down into your own and rolling in the back of his head, that stupid ass button up he’s wearing is riding up a little and showing a sliver of his waist and his shoulders fill it out so perfectly.

“Take this shit off.” Rafe uses the hand not in your hair to grab onto the top tie of your bikini top and pull the knot loose. “Fuck, fuckin’ knew you had perfect tits.”

You pull off of him with a pop, a string of drool still connected to your lips from his cock. When it breaks it drips down onto your chest between your tits and the sight makes his cock twitch in your hand.

“Yeah? Bet you wanna touch them sooo bad.” You mock pout at him as you bring your free hand up to fondle your tits.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, princess.” Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens and it causes you to let out a breathy moan. “Oh? You like it rough? Open your fuckin’ bratty little mouth.”

You stick your tongue out for him and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back down to his cock. He glides it across your tongue a few times, hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You wrap your lips around his cock and swallow causing your throat to constrict around him. He starts to thrust into your mouth while you continue to practically swallow his cock, swirling your tongue while you finally take what he gives you.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, little brat, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” When you reach up to fondle his balls he throws his head back and his free hand flys to his hair, tugging at the strands almost as hard as he’s tugging on your own. “God damn, keep doing that - fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

“Yo Rafe, where you at!?” Topper’s voice travels up from downstairs and Rafe’s grip on your hair loosens as his thrusts abruptly stop. But you’re not having that, you start to bob your head up and down, giving his balls attention as you deep throat him.

“Baby - shit - I’m gonna cum down that slutty little throat, don’t stop.” You don’t, you suck him off like your life depends on it, drool dripping down his balls, down your chin, all over your tits. God, your tits, they’re bouncing so deliciously and you look so fucking hot with your mascara running down your eyes like that, it has his cock twitching in your mouth. His cum spurts down your throat and you swallow every drop. “That’s it, good girl, fuckin’ swallow that shit.”

“Where are you man? You better not be fucking with my sister again dude!” You hear Topper’s footsteps coming up the stairs and Rafe turns to lock the door.

“Yeaaah, it’s a little too late for that, Top.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs you by the hips and throws you on the bed causing you to giggle. “I suggest you fuck off if you don’t wanna hear her screaming my name though.”

“Dude!”

“Goodbye, Topper!! Get away from my fucking door!!” You hear him scoff before his footsteps recede back down the stairs.

“Now, where were we?” Rafe smirks at you while he wraps his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

[bots-and-cons]

Hello there!

Could I request a Ratchet x fem!Human!Reader (mid 20s), where he's sort of like her guardian (and perhaps there's unspoken, relucant feelings between the two) where she ends up in a sort of sketchy situation at a party, and he shows up to rescue her.

It's all the more touching because he still has reservations about humans, but he uses his holoform to go inside and get her, and then drives her back to base.

Hope you have a good day!

A/N: I wanted to do a scenario for this, which is why it took so long, but I hope you like it

“Call me if you need me to come get you” Ratchet said.

“I will, but I’m sure I’ll get home on my own” you assured him as you left, waving him goodbye from the front seat.

Bee dropped you off at the party before going on patrol, and you met up with a couple of your friends. The music was good, and so was most of the company. There were always some idiots around, but you luckily didn’t run into too many of those. You were dancing and drinking with your friends, just having a good time.

You were always very careful with your drinks, never taking one from someone you didn’t know and never, ever leaving your drink unwatched. Even with the precautions you took, someone managed to slip something into your drink. You started feeling a bit odd, and at first you just figured you���d had too much to drink, but soon it became apparent that something was wrong.

You were starting to feel woozy and unsteady, and on top of that your friends were nowhere to be seen. You poured the rest of your drink into the closest houseplant’s pot and started trying to make your way outside. Even though you were bumping into people, no one really seemed to notice what a bad state you were in.

You got outside and managed to get your phone out of your pocket. You dialed Ratchet, and managed to mumble something about needing him to come get you.

When you called Ratchet, he was sure you were going to tell him something like: “It’s cold outside, can you take me home?” so when he heard your slurred words and the fear in your voice, he was surprised.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, sounding much more frantic than he meant to.

“I-I think sssome-somehone spiked myh drink” you slurred.

“Stay put, I’ll come get you” Ratchet said, already leaving the base.

He didn’t give a second thought to any of the speed limit signs he sped past on the way to get you. He tried to keep calm, but he was aware of the implications of what you being spiked meant, someone wanted to do you harm.

You were standing outside, leaning on the wall of the house, feeling increasingly worse, when two guys came up to you, trying to hit on you. You didn’t want any of what they were clearly offering, so you started stumbling back inside, hoping to find some safety with your friends. They were nowhere to be seen, and the two guys were still following you. You decided you would lock yourself in the bathroom to get away from these jackasses.

Ratchet almost jumped out in his holoform before he had even stopped, and hurried to the front door of the house where the party was being held. He started calling out your name, but the music was too loud, and he was quite sure that even if you were able to answer, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. He didn’t know if he could search the whole house with so many people there, not efficiently anyway.

“Damn it” Ratchet muttered.

Then he had an idea. Luckily, the house was on the corner of an intersection, so he drove to the side of the house and blared his sirens as loud as possible, hoping the people inside would mistake it for a police siren. Thank Primus they did. He could hear some people yelling “it’s the cops!” before people started running in all directions away from the house. He jogged back to the house and went inside to look for you. You had no reason to run away from the cops since you were of age, so you could drink whatever you wanted in peace.

Ratchet checked the downstairs first, but there was no sign of you. He then moved upstairs and started going through the rooms, no sign of you there either. He was starting to get increasingly worried. When he came back downstairs, he noticed a room he hadn’t checked yet, it was a bathroom, and it was locked.

“(Name)? Are you in there?” he asked as he knocked.

“Ratchhh?” came a barely coherent response.

“Can you open the door?” Ratchet asked, thinking he might have to kick it down, which would not be ideal.

He could hear movement and the lock clicked and he pulled the door open. You almost fell face first on the floor of the hallway, but Ratchet managed to catch you just in time.

“Oh sweetspark” he muttered as you clung to his shirt. “Can you walk?”

“No…” you mumbled.

Ratchet picked you up with very little effort and started carrying you out of the house. He wasn’t sure if he should take you to a hospital, or to just let you sleep it off. He could feel the remaining party guests’ eyes on him as he carried you out of the house, but he couldn’t care less.

You felt like absolutely crap. You were so out of it, you could barely even stand, but when Ratchet picked you up, you felt a little bit less like crap. You felt safe in his arms, and you were too out of it to feel embarrassed about him holding you or about the way you clung to his shirt. You registered him carrying you out of the house, mostly because of the cool air that made you shiver and snuggle even closer to his chest in search of warmth. The cold air helped you sober up a little bit, and you felt more awake.

Ratchet wasn’t thinking about anything but helping you. No matter how much you held onto him, he was just trying to take care of you, nothing more, right? He decided to take you to the base and look after you himself.

You didn’t pass out, even though you definitely felt like you might a couple of times. By some miracle you didn’t throw up either and when you finally found yourself on the base’s couch, you just wanted to go to sleep.

“Thankhs, I love you” you muttered as you laid down on the couch.

Ratchet didn’t say anything, he just placed a blanket over you and watched you curl up under it. He didn’t register your words right away, so he realized what you’d said with a bit of a time lag. A soft smile came across his face as he looked at your sleeping form on the couch. You probably wouldn’t remember what you’d said when you woke up, but it still meant the world to him. Maybe someday he’d have the courage to say it back.

[xileonaaaa]

Thinking of a lonely Sukuna who finds you entertaining…

Heien Era Sukuna x sorcerer!reader

Please refer to this if you are confused.

Sukuna’s cursed technique involves 2 types of slashes, cleeve and dismantle, and he can use them separately, or combine them.

Sukuna has mastered RTC, meaning he can heal himself, and others! (He healed megumi during the shibuya incident.)

Imbuing a weapon with cursed energy just means to enhance its overall strength.

He isn’t a possessive maniac who calls you “Woman.”

➽──────────────❥

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

!RyomenSukuna who has been alive for longer than he can even care to remember.

!RyomenSukuna who is by no means a fool, and is not a force to be reckoned with. For he is, without a doubt, the king of all curses and curse users alike.

!RyomenSukuna who bears the burden of being infinitely strong, but lonely, and only has a mere servant by his side to keep him some form of company.

!RyomenSukuna who would often find himself aimlessly strolling through the charred remains of what was left of the once flourishing villages he’d burnt to smithereens.

!RyomenSukuna who was desperate for some form of entertainment, someone he could battle for at least a little while before they ultimately died. (Every lone sorcerer either tried to run from him, hide or wouldn’t even be able to get a single attack out. It was pathetic.)

!RyomenSukuna who felt your presence before he even saw you.

!RyomenSukuna who was rather displeased by how weak and pathetic you seemed, trying your absolute hardest to sneak around behind him by hiding yourself amidst the rubble and sut like he was some sort of sick joke.

!RyomenSukuna who scoffed before pausing in his walk to casually toss a cleeve back behind him, in your direction.

!RyomenSukuna who eagerly waited to hear the satisfying sound of your flesh hitting the ground, but when that never came, a menacing grin formed on his face.

!RyomenSukuna who tossed a few more cleeves your way, even tossing back a dismantle at one point, but still never heard the sound of your body getting split in half. He was sure you could handle him, right? After all, you survived the bud of his technique, so why not play with you a little?

!RyomenSukuna who spun around with haste to face you, and initially was a bit stunned at your utter beauty, having never seen anyone as ethereal as you before. However, he didn’t let his moment of awe phase him, and to the untrained eye, his bloodlust was the most apparent thing etched onto his inhumane features.

!RyomenSukuna who took his time sizing you up, his eyes widening as he felt your cursed energy suddenly surge. His smile increased ten fold when he realized you were actually stronger than you’d originally let on. He was going to have fun ripping you apart.

!RyomenSukuna who engaged in a ruthless battle with you, learning different things about you as you gave it your all against him. He noticed that you seemed to have some sort of limit on your cursed energy, and that quite literally was your downfall.

!RyomenSukuna who stalled, and blocked your attacks for as long as he could, halfassing you in the worst way possible.

!RyomenSukuna who eventually, just as he’d previously predicted, could feel your cursed energy start to dwindle, and he knew you were reaching that point where you’d be rendered powerless in a matter of seconds. He was curious to see what you’d do.

!RyomenSukuna who watched as you put some distance in between the both of you, before using RTC (reverse cursed technique), and pulling out some sort of interestingly shaped katana. He didn’t bother attacking you, far too interested in watching how you split your remaining cursed energy into healing yourself, and imbuing whatever was left over into your weapon.

!RyomenSukuna who had a smile of pure elation as he watched you charge at him, faster than the speed of light. He was absolutely livid.

!RyomenSukuna who thought that you were fast, but he was faster. Unfortunately, with the absence of your cursed energy, your basic movements had become repetitive, and without a moments notice, he ripped you clean out of the air, and slammed you down into the ground with so much force, a crater formed.

!RyomenSukuna whose initial feeling of elation faltered a bit when he didn’t see you moving. He took a step back, readying himself for another go at it, and hoping that you’d get back up. Hoping and maybe even wishing that this fight wasn’t over just yet.

!RyomenSukuna whose eyes widened as you surprised him yet again. He watched on in glee as you shakily pulled yourself to your feet, before raising your katana at him and glaring down your sword. The unwavering look of determination in your eyes is what set him off.

!RyomenSukuna who felt his non functional heart beat for the first time, in a long time. His sadistic grin returned to his face, and this time he charged at you first.

!RyomenSukuna who easily knocked you off your feet time and time again, and watched with awe as you kept on getting up, each and every time. He admired your determination, but one misdirected cleeve was all it took to render you immobile.

!RyomenSukuna who normally would’ve scoffed and walked away, found himself briskly walking over to your limp form in what one would call a rather “worried manner”. To him, he just simply wanted to know if you were still alive.

!RyomenSukuna who healed you himself, and, with about as much care a monster like him could muster, lifted you up into his lower arms.

!RyomenSukuna who ended up taking you back to his home, where he was the one to watch over you to make sure you recovered just fine.

!RyomenSukuna who was there to see those gorgeous eyes of yours flutter open, and bear the softest gaze anyone has ever shown him.

!RyomenSukuna who lost his train of thought the moment you started to sit up, and adjust yourself in the soft mattress he’d so kindly placed you on.

!RyomenSukuna who was taken aback at how polite and respectful you were towards him, despite the fact he’d almost killed you. (He seemed to forget that he was also the who saved your life???)

!RyomenSukuna who actually took a liking to you, even though you were in no way close to him in strength, nor did you share the mindset.

!RyomenSukuna who didn’t find himself becoming bored or annoyed the more you told him about your past and upbringing. In fact, he was always subtly nodding along, taking in your every word.

!RyomenSukuna who actually listened to you, and didn’t space out like he normally did whenever someone or something was talking to him. Whenever you seemed to get angry or frustrated at a certain topic, he would get frustrated too. Whenever you’d be happy about something, he’d let a little smirk find its way onto his lips. (It was almost like he mirrored your reactions.)

!RyomenSukuna who began to doubt his initial reason for bringing you back to his home, as the weeks went on. He ends up letting you stay anyway, because you technically did still serve a purpose to him. You were his form of entertainment.

!RyomenSukuna who never really spoke much around you. Usually opting to silently observe you while you trained, or just listen to you as you talked enough for the both of you. Besides, he figured he never really had anything interesting to say anyways. (His voice would only be heard when explaining anything dealing with jujitsu. Other than that, he was as silent as a ghost. The most you’d get from him were the head nods, and soft grunts to show his approval.)

!RyomenSukuna who found himself feeling a bit strange when you told him one night over dinner that you would be leaving soon, and that there was someone out there you wanted to get revenge on for wronging your family.

!RyomenSukuna who spoke up for the first time since he’d brought you back to his home to actually protest against you going out alone. He even volunteered to do the deed for you, to rid your hands of any blood, but you insisted, and he didn’t have it in him to fight you. He could never deny you of what you wanted.

!RyomenSukuna whose face remained neutral, as you waved goodbye to him, before setting off on your journey.

!RyomenSukuna who would never admit, even to himself, that he enjoyed your company, even if it had only been a few weeks.

!RyomenSukuna whose boredom quickly returned, and within a few days, he was back to his daily walks around the ruined village.

!RyomenSukuna who never really took the time to think about just how much your presence really affected him. Nowadays, he was easily agitated, and just as quick to blow a fuse at some of the most trivial things. He wasn’t his normal calm, and collected self, and it bothered him. It bothered him that you weren’t there with him anymore.

!RyomenSukuna who, deep down, feared that you would never return, and that he’d never get to hear your voice again, sweetly chirping away at whatever memories that came to mind. Giving him endless entertainment, something that he found himself desperately craving now.

!RyomenSukuna who never really dwelled in pointless things such as feelings. However, there were times when his restless mind would wonder about you, and if you were okay.

!RyomenSukuna who realized that he was at his calmest and most peaceful state whenever you were situated in his presence.

!RyomenSukuna who found that he just couldn’t fall asleep one night, and opted to take a midnight stroll through the forest to get some fresh air, to maybe even cleanse his mind of the slight worry he was feeling.

!RyomenSukuna who thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he could’ve sworn he saw your smaller form limping towards him from the treeline. After all, he was going on his 8th night of no proper sleep.

!RyomenSukuna who felt a part of him return when he realized that it was in fact you. He let you come to him, and due to the moonlight, he was able to see the horrific state you were in.

!RyomenSukuna who immediately healed you with a gentle touch, before ushering you into a warm embrace. It was the first time he’d ever done something of the sorts, and to be honest he didn’t hate it. He was just glad that you came back.

Glad that you came back to him.

[adnauseum11]

Bomb (John Price x Reader)

My insomnia is keeping me up and this kept me occupied.

Summary: Kate Laswell corners John Price with a loaded question. John admits to some startling news.

less than 1k words

SFW

no CW

Besides his mother, Kate Laswell knows John Price better than anyone. So, when they convened their bi-monthly poker game, she knows something's up almost immediately. John obliged her curiosity by playing well enough to make it down to the last three players, thus enabling her to trap him in the kitchen to question him away from the eyes and ears of the few remaining guests.

“How’s retirement treating you, John? Anything new?”

John raised a brow at the open-ended question, twisting from the sink where he was rinsing glasses. 

‘It’s fine, Kate. Why do you ask?” The near formal response confirms her suspicions.

“You look like you’ve been trying to crack quantum mechanics all night.”

“Poker is hard.” John said lamely in a last-ditch attempt to not have this conversation. 

“Not that hard. Not for you. What’s up?” 

John sighs heavily and gives up on his self-assigned task. He fully turns, hands fisting on his still trim hips and assesses how doggedly Kate’s going to chase this. It’s Kate though, so he resigns himself to admitting his most recent conundrum.

“I have a friend. Known her since I before I shipped off to join the infantry. Our circle of friends grew apart but we stayed in touch.” John downplays their friendship, or that his routine when coming off a mission is to text her straight away.

Kate’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline in surprise. John has never mentioned this woman. Sure, talk of personal lives is limited in their line of work, but they had spent years developing a friendship beyond their professional one. Kate thought she knew him pretty well, all things considered. 

“What’s the problem? She get herself into something she shouldn’t have?” Kate asks, going for the obvious.

“No, nothing like that. Although I wouldn’t be surprised, the woman’s middle name ought to be trouble.” The ghost of a fond smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“What is her middle name?”

“Grow up, Kate.” John rolls his eyes; he’s spent years keeping his work life and his small personal life separate. He’s not about to compromise that like a rank amateur. 

“Worth a shot.” Kate smiles and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting John out. 

“I’ve asked her out, we’ve gone on a few dates.”

“And? I’m still not hearing a problem. Really never would have pegged you for melodrama, John.” Kate chides gently, enjoying the disapproving look he sends her way. 

“Mind yourself, I’m retired not dead.” John grumbles, crossing his own arms over his broad chest.

“So, what’s the issue? You decide you like being friends better and it’s awkward now?”

“No. Nothing like that. Actually, the opposite of that. But, ah… I’m not sure we’re on the same page.” He scrapes his nails through his facial hair in a reflexive gesture.

Kate’s face softens as she realizes what he’s saying and turns, going on tiptoes to reach a high cabinet. It’s filled with liquors and she pulls a scotch down, pouring them each a few fingers of the amber liquid. 

“Cheers old man. Welcome back to civilian life. Relationships are hard.”

“Thanks Kate. Very helpful.” John nods and sniffs his drink before taking a taste. 

“I find it hard to believe a woman who has apparently known you for years, and has agreed to go on multiple dates with you isn’t attracted to you, John.”

“She shuts me down, won’t let me do anything but kiss her.” 

John throws the rest of the drink back in one swallow with that admission and Kate watches her old friend for a moment. 

“How long you been in love with her?” 

John chokes, coughing and thumping himself on the chest before raising his eyebrows incredulously at Kate. 

“Never said anything about love –“ 

Kate doesn’t let him finish.

“This is the first I’m hearing this woman exists and I’ve known you for the better part of two decades, John. You have gone out of your way to keep her to yourself, for a very long time. She’s got to mean something to you. So, you’re all in on this relationship now that your life has stabilized and she’s dragging her feet. Is that it?”

“Fuckin’ hell Laswell.” John’s reaching for the bottle of scotch to refill his glass.

“Find out why she’s dragging her feet and fix it you idiot. No risk no reward, you know that better than anyone. Now who’s got to grow up?” Kate raises her own brow back at a gobsmacked John. 

“You make it sound easy.” 

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward. Easy is another story. That’s between you and…?”

The look John gives her is withering before he throws back another drink. 

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - three

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fighting, gore, blood

One | two | four | five | six

Rage like I’ve never felt before rolls off of me while the shadows lead me to their singer. I find him making tea in the kitchen with Cassian. The roguish male stiffens when I set my glower on him. He looks uncomfortable at best with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting between Azriel and me.

“We can talk later,” he quickly says to Az and slips out of with a small smile directed at me. My new shadow pets nudge me away from him and I swear I hear them hiss as he passes.

Azriel pretends to be calm and even indifferent to my arrival. He’s focused on removing the metal tea strainer which apparently takes more than 10 seconds. His shadows flutter around him and reach for me. I can’t see his entire face but there is a wary tension to his shoulders as he pretends to focus on the task.

“How are you?”

“No,” I snap at him and he stills, “how did you know about me?”

His beautiful hands finally set the strainer down and dry themselves on a dish towel before gripping the edge of the counter. He lifts his head to look at me and those stupid hazel eyes threaten to take my breath.

“It’s my job to know things that no one else does.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yes but how?”

“You’ve met my shadows.”

“They report to you?”

He goes back to making his tea while a small smile tugs at his lips. “Most of the time.”

This male is frustratingly dodgy.

No wonder he works for the Night Court.

“Have they recently?”

The shadows that led me here have abandoned me and joined their kin around Azriel. They dance towards his ear and appear to whisper to him. He flickers his eyes over to me with that small smile playing on his mouth. His answer is a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Traitors,” I whisper to them, causing them to vibrate with energy. Whatever rage I felt earlier has disappeared and is replaced with whatever sick feeling I get in his presence. I desperately want it to shove off but it’s not working.

The next thing Azriel does shocks me although it really shouldn’t. He slides the cup he’s been obsessing over to me and settles against the counter behind him. He assures me it isn’t poisoned. I hesitantly take it and sniff at the spiced aroma before taking a tiny sip. A burst of flavors that I’ve never tasted before hits my tongue and my eyes dart to him in shock.

He chuckles at my reaction. “Do you like it?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a healing blend from our healer made for you.”

“For me?”

Azriel’s check flush. “I had her make it after your…” he trails off and looks to the things I’ve been trying to ignore.

Setting my tea down, my wings involuntarily shutter and I groan under my breath. Instantly shadows are all around me and Azriel’s jaw is tight as he watches me. More like stares at me but all the same, his eyes are scanning my entire body.

“Thank you,” I mutter. Deep breaths only do so much to calm the raging burn at my back. That foul golden warmth in my chest only adds to my agony and I’m forced to sit down before I completely collapse. The shadows guide me a tall chair at the counter. It’s not lost on me that this is the closest to we’ve ever been.

“There’s no need,” he breaths out. Tension is still holding his body taunt and it starting to effect his shadows. I reach out for them however they pull away.

Azriel lets out a deep sigh as the shadows close around him and away from me. An unexpected dagger finds its home in my chest. These little creatures had become something akin to friends to me and now they want nothing to do with me.

“No amount of kind gestures will convince me to accept the bond.”

His entire body tenses even more; his wings shutter and his face hardens. Many men have fallen to their knees under that sharp and murderous look and pleaded for mercy. The myths say that this gaze would be followed by a smile after making them wet themselves and only then would he bring his blade down upon their necks. The power that he holds in his fatal gaze is enough to make me almost reconsider my words and tugs at the bond deep inside my chest again.

“That wasn’t what i…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

His jaw snaps shut and he doesn’t bother to finish his sentence. When he doesn’t say anything more, I arch a brow at him.

Clearly I’ve struck a cord as is evident in the way that he shakes his head at me and rounds the counter. His footsteps are silent but deafening all the same as he moves to stand beside me. I turn in my seat so that we can face each other. He tentatively reaches for me and when I don’t move away, he cups the side of my face. My breathing stops for a second and feels like the elevation has suddenly gone up a thousand feet.

“We both know I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he whispers to me. Hazel eyes bore into mine and stroke every alerted nerve within my body. “Ask me again.”

At first I don’t fully understand what he meant and just stare at him. It’s beyond frustrating to be at the mercy of others like this, begging like a starving dog for straps and morsels of information. I would gather information but never knew why or what exactly I needed to get. All I was ever told was simply “find them and don’t come back until you have everything.” The rage that had shimmered into a gentle mewl finds its voice again and begs to be released on Azriel.

“Ask me how I knew about you and about my shadows.”

I furrow my brow at him but his enduring tone and gentle eyes pull the words from me. “Tell me how you knew about me. I want to know if your shadows have reported to you since I was brought here.”

He smiles in a heart wrenchingly adoring way, “there were rumors of a fae that he favored and kept at his side. People said that she could draw the truth from anyone with just a look and even more with her words. Not many knew if she really existed but I found those who did and they told me where to find you. As for my shadows, they found you the first night and would only tell me that you were okay. I couldn’t get anything else out of them and honestly I still can’t half of the time.”

My attention is divided between Azriel’s warm hand on my cheek that feels heavenly and his plump lips. Never have I been so drawn to another like this before and I’m starting to enjoy it. The craving for him I feel is slowly starting to replace the dread of life and I can’t find it within myself to hate it. For so long I wasn’t allowed to be happy and now that it’s cradling my face, I want to embrace it.

Neither of us have tugged on the golden thread that connects us yet but this moment almost begs for me to do it. He starts telling me more although it falls on deaf ears as I search for that thread.

“I will do whatever you need of me, all you have to do is ask. We’re strangers but you have to know that anything I do for you is without an ulterior motive. Anything my shadows do is born of their want to see you well…” he freezes mid sentence when I successfully find it and golden fire burns in his hazel eyes. The intensity they held before is nothing compared to inferno that lives in them now. His hand tightens against my cheek before sliding to my neck and tilts my head up more. He leans down as the other hand finds the back of my chair and I’m caged in without a care in the world. My own hands find the wrist at my neck and wrap around it, keeping it in place.

“Did you..”

“I did.”

His marble carved nose bumps against mine. “Why?”

“I needed to know that it was real, that this was real.”

“And what do you think?”

My eyes flutter closed when his lips ghost over mine and my words feel heavy against my tongue. “Reality is what we make it.”

And our reality becomes enveloped in shadows as we lean into each other, falling into a consuming kiss. Azriel draws me closer with his hands tangled into my hair and devours me. I nearly trip trying to stand but he catches me by wrapping an arm around my waist. Desperate breathing and wanton noises come from us both while we fight to convey everything we feel yet can’t admit. It’s pure euphoria kissing Azriel, feeling his strength in my hands while his power finds its way under my skin. Lifetimes will pass us by and memories will fade however his adoration for me and the physical imprint it leaves on me in the form of bruised lips will never blur.

He pulls away to look at me with wild and sweet eyes. I know he’s confused as am I. I told him only moments ago nothing could convince me to accept the bond and yet we kissed.

“Reality is what we make it,” I repeat in a small voice as I stare back at him, “and…”

Before I can finish, a gasp and the shattering of tea cups steals our moment from us. Azriel looks over his shoulder and immediately goes rigid.

“Az,” the sweet voice says in a trembling way, “what…what is going on? Who is she?”

Realization hits me like the cold and unforgiving waves of the seas in Hybern. I remove myself from him and pick up my tea. He’s watching me while always watching her however he can’t expect to play two parts at once. Few actors have the ability to pull off multiple believable performances and I suspect he is not one of them.

I put the mug in the sink and make eye contact with him. My words are going to hurt us both however they are necessary. “As I was saying, reality is what we make it and Fate has no bearing on my decisions. She gets it wrong more often than not.”

Flickering my gaze around him, I find a rather pale and frowny woman who I can only assume is the third Acheron sister, Elain. “Nothing is going on here and rest assured, nothing ever will. As for who I am, I am nobody important. Your high lord will soon find out I’m useless in his endeavors to win this pathetic war.”

“Nobody important?” The broken edge to my almost mate’s voice echoes into my hollow heart and rattles everything in me. The bond is taunt, pulled tight as it begs with each of us to reach out for the other although we won’t. That hope was shattered the moment those tea cups did.

“Yes, nobody important,” I barely manage to say back. His shadows split between us and I gently wave them away as I take my first steps towards the door. A cry of sadness comes from them and Elain rushes to Azriel, frantically checking him for any injuries. He’s solely focused on me as I slip out of the kitchen and drift even further out to sea than before.

He made a beautiful lighthouse to seek false refuge in however I will always be a lone drifting ship that’s found its home among the waves.

Tears prick at my eyes as I find my way back to my room. They fall in blazing clusters once the door is closed and I’m safely inside my room filled with his scent.

Whether it’s by accident or intention, I don’t see Azriel or even Elain over the next few days. Feyre and Mor are the only two that seem to be around with the occasional Rhys. At first I enjoyed having time and space to myself however that ache in my chest started to move from uncomfortable to outright unbearable. By the third day of little sleep, I take to the rooftop garden wrapped in the cream knitted blanket with a cup of the spiced tea steaming on a small iron table. My wings hurt less now but out in the open like this, they feel almost weightless and free. The city around me, Velaris as I’ve learned it’s called, is full of starlight and wonderment so late at night. I sip away at the spiced tea and allow the beauty of this city to whisk me into a daydream of that golden thread’s making.

Someone joins me on the rooftop and clears their throat to get my attention. Barely glancing over my shoulder, I’m shocked to see Rhys is leaning against the door frame. There’s an odd glimmer to his eye that I can’t quite figure out. He pushes off and takes a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“How is Velaris treating you?”

“Well I haven’t left the townhouse yet.”

“Would you like to?”

I turn away from him and back to the landscape before us, “I would like to go home.”

“And where is that?”

“I don’t think I have one anymore but this place,” I sigh as I gesture to the city, “this place isn’t my home. I’m grateful for your kindness and generosity but I can’t stay here. I belong on that island and that’s where I should go.”

It’s Rhys’ turn to sigh, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” He stands and kneels before me, looking at me curiously. There’s something off about his gaze but then again there’s just something off about him. His presence is unnerving at the moment and even more so than usual.

Rhys’ violet eyes trail up and down my body, taking in every detail even as I’m wrapped in a blanket. Something is definitely different with him and I go to get out of my chair but he stops me with a bruising grip on both knees.

“Rhys,” I warn as I try to shove off his hands. My wings draw in tight behind me and I prepare myself to ruin all my healing if it means I have to fly to get away.

His eyes flash violently for a moment and I fully shove him off as I scramble up. The chair flies back and makes a horrific sound as it crashes to the ground.

Mischief causes his lips to curl into a cruel smirk, “I’m not Rhys.”

Frustration rises up in me and my nose flares at his annoyingly vague words, “I’m well aware of that now. So who are you then?”

This imposter only shrugs his shoulders as he stands and circles around me. He stops when he is directly in front of me and brushes my hair back, stroking the strands of hair that have fallen free. Tucking a particularly large piece back, his finger skims my cheek and the touch freezes my skin. I want to flinch back but I don’t want him to think I'm weak so I harden my gaze and body. It feels like an impossible task as he leans closer to me, letting his icy breath wash over me.

“There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the female you once were. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love,” he whispers against my ear. He slowly pulls away, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of my cheekbone before a black mist overcomes him.

When it clears, foul beasts stare back at me.

In his place are two of the King’s Ravens.

Sinister smirks paint their faces as they slowly start to advance towards me. It would be just my luck that these minions are here and have taken the face of someone that I’ve let near me.

The words that the imposter whispered into my ear are reminiscent of the promise that the King made me before he left me on that island. A prickle of bloodthirst itches at the back of my throat as the brainless weapons crowd closer.

“You should go,” I mumble as my breathing grows more labored. With my hands out in front of me and my wings tucked away, I try to make myself as small and vulnerable as possible. I pretend to trip over the chair and fall to the ground. The Ravens laugh and tease me about how pathetic I am begging them to go. The house does exactly as I need and a sword materializes in my hand.

I take my cue as their laughter grows close enough to rattle my body and stand with the sword pointed at them. They laugh even harder.

“Last chance,” I say with a bone chilling timber to my already low voice. My wings flare out with a loud snap and the men hesitate for a second. They scramble to get ready for a fight. We begin to circle each other and I smirk as I sniff the air. They reek of fear and it seems to feed the bloodlust rather than appease it.

One of them lounges at me.

A flash of black and silver block the other Raven’s view of what happened. Everything is silent at first and the remaining Raven waits with bated breath as a thud sounds across the rooftop. He dares to look down to see his partner’s head rolling towards him and looks back up to see me already staring at him, a smirk on my lips. He bares his teeth at me and attacks. Clashing swords and labored breathing become the music to the dance that I’m leading him in. He’s all too predictable but I need to control this situation and play the game how I want to.

However it’s cut short by the arrival of another male, his cedar and mist scent sweeping over us and momentarily distracting me. The Raven takes his chance to attack however he is too slow. I throw the sword as if it were a dagger and it lands with a sickening crunch in his chest. He gasps and stumbles backwards until he hits the edge of the roof and tips over it. Azriel’s eyes are wild and furious as he takes in the sight before him.

“Are you okay?” he settles on asking. He doesn’t move to get closer to me and I stay where I’m at, blood still splattered on my arm and wings standing on high alert. I feel his eyes rake over me, searching for any injuries and they pause on my wings. I can’t help but make a show of stretching them, allowing them to shake out to an even larger span and roll my shoulders back.

“I’m annoyed that my peaceful afternoon was interrupted,” I mumble and pick up the now filthy white blanket.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I can’t be bothered with him and his instinctively need to ensure that I’m okay. No I’m clearly not okay and I want nothing more than to crumple to the ground and cry. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of this foul King haunting me. I’m sick of being treated like I’m a prisoner but somehow an ally. I’m tired of feeling the sick need to be around the male before me and deny myself the joy of being around him. I’m sick and tired of it all but alas the only thing that I can change is that sick need however I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to reject the bond no matter how much I want to.

“Please don’t,” his low voice breaks my internal monologue and I snap my eyes at him. Did he somehow hear all of that? It dawned on me as a wave of foreign emotions hit me that I told him. I sent all of that down the bond that isn’t even accepted yet.

“Please,” he says again and steps towards me, “don’t reject it yet.”

“Give me one reason other than it’s what the Cauldron wanted,” I hiss at him, anger rolling off of me and it sends his shadows hiding behind him.

Words evade him and it causes me to scoff in disbelief.

“That’s what I thought

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza's IF Prison Guard Story Set: "Lewd Punishment"- Story Two

MDNI. NSFW. This is part 2 of the story. Translations will include heavily cropped screenshots as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

CW: Gagging, Brief mention of death, Dubcon/Noncon - Just in case. And probably the most awkwardly translated smut you'll read.

Kate: Ah…..Nn……ha!

Something hot drags itself inside me repeatedly, making me let out shriek-like cry.[1]

The enemy guard grabs me by my waist to stop me from escaping, and pounds his heat inside of me.

Before my foolish appearance, amethyst eyes glow dimly, and he smiles with satisfaction.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: At yer limit? ‘Forehand, when I gave ya my hand, ya said “It doesn’t feel good”.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Yer all bark ‘n no bite, small fry.

Kate: Ahhh…..!

He penetrates deep inside me, and just like that I hit my peak.

White sparks burst into my vision, my body trembling in the afterglow……after a period of time, he pulls out slowly.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: …..Ha, yeah that’s a good look.

I was a spy and now I'm a prisoner of war in an enemy country.

Even when I was interrogated by people from the enemy country while imprisoned, I never said a word.

— And the guard who couldn’t overlook that, began to punish me every night, by roughly embracing me.

(The guard hasn't come yet, although it's his usual time to do so.)

(Maybe something happened. Or perhaps he’s grown tired of me….?)

My body tingled when I thought of the guard — but then I can back to my senses.

(Was I…..hoping the guard would come just now?)

I thought I had a strong heart, but I’m sure we’ve grown closer.

The pleasure he’d given me was like a sweet poison, and before I knew it, I was addicted.

(….This is exactly what the other party wants.)

(If I’m going to go insane and give up information….then I’d rather die before that happens.)

Kate: Today, I’ll surprise you.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: ….Whaddya gonna do?

I smiled, open my mouth — and bit my tongue hard.

I could feel my teeth break through the  soft flesh, as the taste of iron spreads in my mouth.

(……….Huh?)

But no matter how long I waited, the pain never came.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: ….Don’t be so selfish.

When I looked, the guard was sticking his finger in my mouth.

Apparently it was his finger that I bit.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: ‘N don’t chew off my finger. It ain’t tonight’s dinner.

I obediently opened my mouth and released the guard’s injured finger.

Kate: Why….

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Yer life doesn't belong to ya or to yer country. It’s mine now.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: I decide whether ya live or die. Don’t think ya can just die when ya want.

The guard said without hesitation while shooting me at sharp gaze.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: ….So, why’d ya do it?

Kate: ….

Kate: ….I, didn’t want to change.

Kate: I can't forgive myself for being addicted to the pleasure you give me, and waiting for you every night —….Mmph!

In the middle of my story, the guard kisses me and my eyes widen in surprise.

Kate: Ah…….w-what are you doing….mm

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Watcha said just now, sounded like a pickup line to me.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Ya can’t be satisfied without me, ‘n it’s hard bein’ away from me, innit?

Kate: No! I just want it all to end.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: I won’t letcha off ya for sayin’ that.

The guard spoke coldly, and forcibly gagged me.

It's probably one of the tools the guards carry around to prevent prisoners from biting their tongues.

(That's right... If I die, you won't be able to get any information.)

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Until ya no longer have the will to die, I ain’t takin’ this off, ‘cept for meals.

With the gag on, I could barely speak, so it was impossible to complain.

All I could do was glare at the guard with resentment.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: ……Those eyes are excitin’, but it’s borin’ when ya can’t say anything.

The guard flicked the gag with his fingertip, then rolled me on the bed, disheveling my clothes.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Don’t need nothin’ today, so this is the only place I’ll touch.

The guard ran his hand over my chest.

Kate: Mmph……

Seeing my breasts change shape from the guard’s large hands was both erotic and embarrassing.

Since I was gagged, I shook my head no, but I was able ignored.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: The tips are already so stiff. …..Nasty woman.

Kate: AHH!

When he pinches my nipples, my body feels a sweet bolt of lightning. [2]

The guard’s head approached my chest as he twisted my peaks.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Hmm……

Kate: UGH…..haa…haa

One of them is kneaded and crushed by the guard’s fingers, while the other was attacked by his mouth.

As I’m sweetly bitten and sucked on strongly, heat builds up in my lower abdomen…..

…..And before I knew it, I was rubbing my thighs together.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Haa…ya can’t hold back anymore. Yer an impatient woman.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard:…Toldja I wouldn’t touch ya anywhere but here t’night.

(The only place he’ll touch are my breasts…?)

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Ya tryin’ to lure me in by lookin’ like ya want it? Sorry but….

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: If yer feelin’ lonely inside, then do it yerself.

(I can't do that myself...It’s too embarrassing…...)

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Can’t do it?

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Ya say ya can’t do it unless it’s me, ‘n it’s hard when we’re apart,

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Even though I trained ya to cum here.

(I never said that….!)

Kate: Mmmhm…! Ugghh!

I tried to protest, but with the gag on I couldn't get any words out.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: …Haha, why’re groaning? How cute.

The guard kissed my cheek, while still gagged.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Well, just once. ‘Cause yer so cute.

The hands that had been torturing my breasts reached between my legs and massaged me with practiced hands, and —

Kate: Ahh….!

A hot shaft touched my slick entrance, and penetrated me swiftly. [3]

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Ya swallowed it right away... ..You've already memorized my shape, haven't ya?

Kate:Mmm…..ah…..!

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Oh, “I want it deeper”? Then it can’t be helped —

It was fabricated although I didn’t say a thing, and he thrust so deeply inside me.

Sparks fly around my vision and I nearly lose consciousness, but I endure it and glare at the guard pinning me down.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Ha, that’s nice look….

Even that seems to be a source of excitement for the guard, and his rhythm becomes more intense again.

(Ooh, what should I do?)

(I mustn’t accept this, but….)

Entangling our legs and holding each other tightly…..

In the end, I surrendered to the pleasure that was given to me.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: Haaah. ….Why would I become so absorbed with a woman like this?

The guard whispers to himself as he pulls out his heat from me.

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: …..It's yer fault for not openin’ yer mouth. Thanks to that, I hafta punish ya every night.

There's something sweet and sad about the guard's voice that sticks with me.

(The guard is just trying to get me to reveal information……)

(It seems like you're attached to me.…..but, I'm sure it's just my delusion.)

Amethyst-Eyed Guard: As expected...ya haven't had enough punishment yet, so I'll have to do it one more time.

Kate: …..[Gasp]?!

Even if I wanted to protest, the gag wouldn't allow me to speak.

(….. Ah, but maybe it's okay to stay like this forever.)

— Things like liking you, or loving you.

This will prevent us from having to convey our confused feelings due to misunderstandings, as our bodies grow closer.

Yoooo, you idiots better both properly communicate in the main route.

Ftn [1]: Rubs was replaced with drags. Ftn [2]: For the sake of variety, I changed “tips of my breasts” to nipples because dammit that’s what they are. Ftn [3]: This was literally translated: “A hot ferocious stake applied to my muddy entrance.” I…..couldn’t. CHANGED.

[Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

Please let me know if you want to be added to my tags list by commenting below.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt I)

For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point

Feat. everybody's favourite: Soft Stephen Petersen (but don't you dare call him that to his face)

I'm going ahead and posting this a day before the poll even closes, because it was winning by a landslide and also, well, Passover. This thing decided to grow legs, as so many prompts do. The second half will be posted next week.

Stephen loves holidays.

It takes a long time for Gabe to figure that out — he's talking literal decades — because Stephen’s actually pretty good at hiding it. Or maybe it isn’t that he’s good at hiding it so much as it’s exactly what someone would expect from him. Stephen exudes ‘too cool for holidays’ energy.

But then, to be fair, Stephen exudes a lot of things that aren’t true. Like how he pretends to hate hugs, but that’s only true in limited circumstances: he dislikes hugs from strangers and distant acquaintances, that’s true, but he liked hockey hugs, and hugs from his family, even though he always scoffed before he got them, just so they wouldn’t get the right idea, and a good hug is often enough to get him out of a bad mood. The thing Stephen hates most about hugs is how much he doesn’t hate them.

He’s like that with a few things: he spent years pretending he couldn’t stand math, even as he was getting straight As in it, helping Gabe out with his homework, but never without muttering how pointless math was. He still pretends to hate his sisters, and groans when Dmitry and Oksana come over, even when he explicitly asked Gabe to invite them, and constantly pretends he isn’t absolutely delighted to find a kindred soul in Jared. Gabe can see right through all of that. Always has. But Stephen’s apparent holiday hatred managed to fool even him.

That is, until Stephen accidentally shows his hand when Passover arrives. Stephen’s been doing something or another for it for years, packing Gabe little lunch boxes so he has options on the road, even including uncharacteristically sweet little notes during one playoff run.

Gabe always figured it was because Stephen knew it was hard to be across the country from his family, especially when Passover fell at the same time as their birthdays, or the last stressful days of the season, or the even more stressful start of the postseason — it’s never been great timing. And as much as Stephen would like to deny it, he’s always been thoughtful about those kinds of things. Always been kind.

But this year it's different. Gabe’s Passover planning usually just extends to hitting up the kosher section at the grocery store to stock up on non-leavened alternatives, maybe head to the deli he likes to get some inferior version of something his mom would make if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

Stephen’s putting a little more effort in. For one, he's decided to cook. Relatedly, he's spending half his time on the phone with Gabe’s mom, it feels like — recipes can’t take that long to convey, no matter how chatty Gabe’s mom is — and shooing Gabe out of the kitchen with his traditional Passover lunch box, even though he isn’t on the road this year, and, thank fuck, it’s still the regular season this time. It’s rough, having to abstain from all of his favourite ways to carboload just in time for the postseason.

And then there's Seder. The fact they're having one, but also the fact they've got a guest list: a few of Stephen's university friends, a Jewish colleague of his who also lives across the country from his family, and Jared and Bryce, Dmitry and Oksana.

He spends Gabe doesn’t even know how much time and energy getting it together, brushing off most of Gabe’s offers to help. Gabe’s exhausted just doing his minor part and low-key worrying about Dmitry or Jared saying something to set Stephen off.

Everyone's shockingly well behaved, though, to the point where Gabe wonders what Stephen threatened them with. Something horrible, he’s sure. At the end of the night, everyone parts with leftovers, which Gabe is a little wistful about — he knows they kept a little of everything but it’s his favourite, and Stephen did good job with it, if not a Miriam job — and Gabe starts clearing the table, because Stephen looks like he’s hit his limit.

The kitchen is such a disaster Gabe doesn’t even know where to start — he didn’t think they had this many dishes. He doesn’t even recognise all of them. Gabe has never been more grateful to have a dishwasher. He only wishes they had two. Or three, even. Three would be good.

“I think that went okay,” Stephen says as Gabe starts rinsing the dirtiest of the dishes.

“It went great,” Gabe says. “What’s the occasion, anyway?”

“Passover,” Stephen says.

“Steve,” Gabe says.

“Oh, well,” Stephen says. “It’s important to you.”

But he’s flustered, and not just flustered in the way he gets whenever he has to admit he’s done something nice for someone.

That doesn’t typically apply to Gabe anyway. Stephen claims that it’s inherently selfish to do nice things for Gabe, because they’re a partnership, and helping his partner helps him. Gabe figures whatever helps Stephen sleep at night after doing embarrassing things like offering Gabe the last piece of pizza — obviously not during Passover — or telling him he likes his playoff beard when they both know it’s mid at best.

Though, Stephen actually seemed pretty into it, last year, to the point where Gabe was starting to think he might have a bit of a thing for the beard. So maybe that was selfish after all.

Gabe, equally selfishly, hopes they make it even further this year, just to test that theory.

"Well," Gabe says. "Thank you," and notices Stephen looks relieved that he's letting it go. Even grateful.

So of course that's when Gabe starts paying attention.

[akookminsupporter]

JIMIN AND JUNGKOOK AND THE HATE THEY DON'T DESERVE.

Being part of this fandom when your biases are Jimin and Jungkook is not easy. Forget about whether you believe there is something more between them; being a fan of them in this fandom is difficult. Every day is a new reason to feel helpless, upset, disappointed, and afraid that they see all the hatred they receive. Hatred they don't deserve, particularly Jimin.

I will never tire of saying how wonderful Jimin is and that, even though I don't know him, I can tell he is a good person, friend, and colleague. A respectful, affectionate, hardworking, dreamy person. One of those people who doesn't seem real, one of those people who are perfectly imperfect. And that's why I'll never understand why he receives so much hatred and why many in this fandom allow it.

Jimin has always been the number one enemy of Taekookers and many Solos, for different reasons but one in common: envy. These groups have always been able to say whatever they want about Jimin, and practically nothing, aside from his fans and Jikookers is said in response. And what's worse, when these fans say something to defend Jimin, they are labelled as Solos or reduced to mere shippers. Jimin cannot be defended, apparently.

The hatred they, particularly Jimin, have been receiving since their trip to Japan with Jungkook was announced is sad. What has happened since before the rumours that Jimin and Jungkook would enlist together in the army came out has crossed all kinds of limits. Jimin has been insulted in the vilest ways I have ever seen in my life, and virtually no one says anything—no one, except the usual ones, of course. When the rumours surfaced in the Korean press, the hatred intensified. Haters once again realized that they could say and do whatever they wanted, and nothing would happen to them because, once again, the fandom, in general, did nothing to defend Jimin, to silence the haters. Funny how that doesn't happen when it comes to another member.

After Big Hit confirmed that not only Jimin and Jungkook would enlist together but also that they would do it under a special program that guaranteed they would be together for the duration of their military service, hell broke loose. Disinformation became an everyday thing, insults, mockery too, and the target remains the same: Jimin.

You are guilty when you do something wrong, but you are also guilty when you do nothing when you see others doing something wrong. I believe even the latter is worse. Jimin and Jungkook decided to apply for a program that guarantees they will be together throughout their military service for reasons they only know and don't have to disclose, nor do they have to give explanations. That decision, which surely was not easy to make, must be respected by everyone, period. Not questioned, not belittled, not explained to fit into absurd narratives.

The way Taekookers always paint Jungkook as this manipulable person, incapable of making his own decisions, who always does what the company, according to them, tells him is deplorable, disrespectful, and further proof that they don't care about Jungkook. The way I've seen many diagnose Jungkook with different things, in treating Jimin as a helpless and weak being who needs a bodyguard with him to say that they applied to the program because they had to and not because they wanted to is insulting. And yet virtually no one says anything.

Jimin and Jungkook will never be the enemies that many want them to be. They will always be the two members who seem to be the closest. They will always be the ones who understand each other with just a look. They will always be the ones with the same sense of humour, who laugh in the same way, and who simply share more things in common. They will always be the ones who promised to go to the moon together and the ones who seem to have no secrets from each other. Those who comfort each other, who are there when one is sick etc.

JIMIN AND JUNGKOOK WILL NEVER BE THE ENEMIES MANY WISH THEM TO BE.

Reducing all the hatred they are receiving right now, and that they have always received, to a shipping issue is insulting, it's cowardly. If your conclusion is to blame Jikookers only, ignoring absolutely everything that Taekookers say daily, what Solos and akgaes say daily, let me tell you that you are a hater too. And you are, in a way, worse. YOU are the problem. If you are unable to stand up for them because you think it will make you a shipper, you are the problem because it goes beyond that. If you are afraid to defend the love, affection and trust that they obviously have for each other, if you are afraid to acknowledge that they are close, that they are great friends, you are the problem too. No one is asking you to accept that Jimin and Jungkook are married or anything like that, what many of us would expect from everyone who claims to be a fan of BTS, is to defend the members of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. If you are incapable of doing that, you are the problem too. You are also a HATER.

I hope the time the boys are in the army serves to clean up this fandom from so much rubbish. I hope they find a fandom that supports all seven of them unconditionally when they return. That respects them and only wants the best for them.

But in this life, nothing is that easy, right? I'm afraid to think about what they will say when the documentary is released and what will happen when whatever Jimin and Jungkook filmed together is released. In a way, I'm glad they won't be here when all that comes out because the chances of them not seeing any of that will be high.