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eddiesfaerie · 2 months ago

Text

who you let in

Summary: Jack has a soft spot. He didn't expect you to be the one to find it. (6.9k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot (the storyteller within me can't help it), unspecified age gap, hurt/comfort for both of them LOL, canon typical gore? medical stuff? idk, panic attacks, trauma, angst, power dynamics (reader's a med student), suicidal ideation, Jack being flustered, oral (m receiving because he needs it), big dick Jack, fingering, rushed sex despite how long this fic is i'm sorry, unprotected PIV sex, Jack's sort of a soft dom, semi-public sex, praise kink, competency kink, lots of fleshy bodily words in here to describe lust idk

AAAAA i just spent all day writing this yes i'm embarrassed <3 also haven't posted my writing in like actual years at this point.... anyways be nice to me

It’s unlike you, Jack thinks to himself, to look so out of it.

GSW to the chest. A young girl in her early twenties maybe. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her blonde hair somehow already matted with it, so much so that she could pass as a natural brunette. It’s gone dark with oxygen and coagulation.

Your team huddles around her, as do the other units around the dozens and dozens of gurneys being brought in one after the other, unrelenting and without promise to end soon.

All protocols you’ve learned in the last year are out the window. Disregarded for the mass casualty event that was PittFest. None of the residents had ever seen anything like this, you’d never seen anything like this. This was the most action you’d ever witnessed and suddenly you felt like there was a balloon in your own chest, compressing air flow or blood flow or something to your head.

All the blood, the smell of metal inescapable no matter which section of the ER you were suddenly rushed to.

Your knees go weak, they shake, your hands shake. Everything’s wrong-

“She’s going white Abbot pull her out.”

You hear your attending huff from right behind you before his hand finds your bicep, curling around it and pulling you from where you leaned over the patient. You can hardly protest, your mind elsewhere and your feet blindly follow Dr Abbot who leads you to the family room.

“Robby I need you to cover over on the GSW to the chest for a sec.” He calls over, his voice ringing in your ears, your mind trying to focus on one single thing but everything’s registering all at once. His hand on your arm, all the beeping, the cries of agony, tubes being intubated and balloons being puffed into chests. It all seems a lot further away when Abbot closes the door.

You never thought you were particularly his favourite. You’re much younger and typically too upbeat. You clash naturally, he’s not drawn to you and you’re not drawn to him.

Dr Abbot is unafraid of correcting you in front of your peers. After a year now of him being your attending you’ve become familiar with his ways but that doesn’t mean you’re any more appreciative of the public humiliations.

There’s something about these older ex military men, the ones who joined too young and have been in the system ever since, climbing up and up the ranks, hardening at each level to a point where disassociation is expected. Hold it in, hold it together. There’s is no I in team. All for one and one for all. All that bullshit.

Dr Abbot wasn’t really that guy to a T but hell was he uncrackable, unshakeable, hard as stone. No doubt it’s helped him here in the ER, you’ve never seen someone as laser focused and capable as Dr Abbot. It’s almost effortless for him, it seems. Like he doesn’t have to think twice about anything. His confidence is unmatched and you’d always admired that, no matter how much you thought he disliked you. So yeah it was kind of surprising when he was the one to pull you away for a time out.

Jack never meant to become so attuned to you. He didn’t do it on purpose. He blames it on being your attending for a while now, he’s worked with you the closet over this past year and he knows how you work, how you operate. He didn’t mean to but it happened. He feels like he can read you like an open book, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, on your face. You’ve never been one to conceal how you were feeling, unlike him. So when you stopped talking, stopped making little remarks and little jokes, nearly frozen and clearly dissociating, he knew what was happening long before the resident called for you to be pulled out. He wanted to give you a moment to bounce back as you usually do.

Dr Abbot closes the curtain to the family room, shutting the door. He turns around and finds you still awkwardly standing there, eyes far off, elsewhere. He had expected you to take a seat immediately, he doesn’t know what you’re still doing up considering how close you look to collapsing.

“S-sorry I don’t know what’s happening, I-” You stammer, embarrassed yet not in control of whatever’s taking over your mind and body.

“Hey, hey stay with me, kid. Don’t go to that place.”

Abbot puts his hand softly on the middle of your back, guiding you to the chair. You sit down reluctantly, unable to move your body in a coordinated way for some reason. He kneels in front of you, groaning as he goes down and his knees cracking.

“Listen, don’t tell anyone but I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks, okay?”

“Is that- is that what’s happening?” You ask dumbly, squeezing your eyes shut. You suddenly feel dizzy. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

“How does your chest feel? Can you breathe?”

“I feel like I can’t.”

“Then yeah, that’s what’s happening.”

Your lip wobbles despite how much you’re still trying to hold it together, that much Abbot can tell. You’re fighting like hell against this panic attack which might only threaten to make things worse. He grabs your hand in his, squeezing lightly. You’re barely able to return it.

“What are five things you can see?”

“W-What?” You sniffle.

“Tell me five things you can see, come on.” He squeezes your hand again, reassuringly.

You try to take a deep breath but your diaphragm spasms and it comes in all shaky, causing you to hiccup like a child.

“Y-you.”

Against all odds, Dr Abbot smiles. Incredibly small but you see it.

“That’s right. What else?”

You try to take a deep breath again. “Uh, the paintings on the wall.”

Abbot nods. You continue.

“The curtains. The chairs. The door.”

“Good. That’s good. What about four things you can touch?”

“Your hand.” You say most obviously, since he’s still holding your clammy hand in his. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so shaken up.

Dr Abbot squeezes your hand again and this time you squeeze back, a silent thank you of sorts.

“Um, my scrubs, my hair on my neck, the wind from the fan.”

“Okay, now three things you can hear.”

“Your voice.” Dr Abbot chuckles, like he was expecting it.

“Sure.” He nods.

“You’re breathing.” You take a deep breath now, as if it reminded you. Abbot breathes deeply with you.

You try to motion lazily to the door, “The doctors outside, I can hear them talking.”

“That’s right, and they’re being pretty loud, aren't they?” He tries to joke, to lighten the mood.

You nod your head, yeah.

“What about two things you can smell?”

You go to open your mouth but Abbot cuts you off again.

“And don’t say me, we’re about an hour into this shift and I know I’m not smelling too pretty right now.”

You laugh, you actually giggle a bit, albeit a bit breathless, your body still trying to catch up to your more relaxed mind. Jack smiles.

“I can smell metal and disinfectant.”

“Okay and one thing you can taste.”

Your cheeks burn a bit. You know it doesn’t mean anything but when you started each sentence with something relating to him… You can’t help but think.

“My stale gum.”

Jack chuckles a bit, shaking his head. What were you doing with mouth in your gum. It’s not allowed on shift but everything had started so suddenly you hadn’t had a moment to toss it and you got scared on choking on it if you swallowed it.

Abbot clicks his tongue at you in disapproval, holding out his open hand near your mouth. You look at him confused, but he just gestures to his outreached hand.

“Spit it out, let’s go get you a new one, hmm?”

Your face burns again, but you do what he says for some reason.

Because he asked.

He closes his palm around your gum for a moment before easily tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room.

Dr Abbot stands back up, knees cracking again. He helps you up, holding your elbows in each of his hands. You’re still a little wobbly, weak in the knees from your body’s sudden breakdown. You haven’t yet regained all your strength.

You try to steady yourself, your hands gripping his forearms, trying to concentrate on the strength of him holding you up.

You suddenly feel oddly close to him. Not just physically seeing as how close you two are standing but in the air, it feels like something’s shifted, like something’s irreparably been changed between you two. He’s just seen you at your most vulnerable, talked you through your first panic attack and even admitted to having experienced them himself. How many people in the ER can say they know that much about Dr Jack Abbot.

Maybe you’re just over analyzing what’s transpired.

“How you feeling?” His voice sounds out and you realize you had your eyes squeezed shut, when you open them Jack’s peering down at you, trying to give you the softest look he can muster.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? You don’t have to be.” You shake your head no.

“No, no I’m good. Promise.”

“I’ve got my best med student back?”

You can’t help but look at him quizzically, laughing a little.

“I don’t think I’m your best med student but sure, I’m back.”

“Come on, take the compliment.” He quips and it surprises you. You didn’t think he’d press your objections.

“I actually thought you-” Hated me, you want to say.

“I know.”

Oh.

“I know I’m hard on you. But I only do it because I know you can take it. I think it makes you better.”

Your lips go into a hard line, you nod. Right….

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt to be told I’m doing good every now and then. I do think I’m tough, you’re right, but I don’t know… I like this side of you.” You admit before you can stop yourself.

Now it’s Jack’s turn to blush. His cheeks go red in that boyish way and it blossoms all the way to the tips of his ears. Your heart leaps a bit.

If you weren’t back to yourself before, you were now. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing even though you’ve both let go of each other. It was sobering.

“Alright kid, as long as you don’t tell anyone.” He winks.

You burn.

“Promise.”

Things did, in fact, change after that.

Dr Abbot pulls you for huddles, just you and him now for feedback, no longer doing it in front of the other med students, doctors or attendees.

You stand closer to him, he stands closer to you in general.

He’s not afraid to grab your hand and stop you from doing something. Or start something. The amount of times he’s guided you through a procedure you’d never done before with his steady hadn’t engulfing yours, guiding a blade smoothly through a patients skin or a thin tube through an incredibly small incision.

You wondered if anyone noticed. If anyone had become attune to the fact that you followed each other around like each other’s shadows. Never one without the other. You could see Princess and Perlah whispering to each other whenever you stood close to Dr Abbot, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that at least someone noticed how he’d picked you as his favourite and warmed up to you. It made you feel special, all girlish and giggly even though it absolutely shouldn’t.

A new unusual sound had started to fill the ER. Jack Abbot’s laughter, even quiet giggles fuelled by none other than you. Not even Robby, once his rival now best friend in the ER, could get that sound out of him as often as you do.

Jack gets you sandwiches, juice boxes from the cafeteria when you look particularly out of it or if the moment granted a quick escape for food. He’d find a chocolate bar or anything to perk you up on days where you weren’t doing so hot, or had a particularly anguishing patient. Death was inescapable in the ER, everyone knew that but not everyone handled it well, it didn’t matter how well versed or experienced you were in the medical industry.

Not even Jack himself.

The night shift was now coming to a close, meaning the clock was close to striking 7am. That awkward time before the day shift shows up and the night team goes home to sleep through the day, all to start again in 12 hours.

It was weird working in the off hours, you felt like a vampire or a bat, you thought to yourself as you climbed the steps to the roof, trying to find Jack. You knew him well now, and you know where he goes to run away when he can’t handle the weight of the shift anymore.

You open the door, it creaked open annoyingly loud, announcing you rather ungraciously.

Jack drops his head low at the sound of the door opening. He knew it was you coming to find him. He leans back against the railing behind him.

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, calling out to you without turning his head. The wind carries the sound of his voice to you.

The sun is threatening to come up over the city line, light only beginning to spill upwards into the sky, painting the clouds all pretty shades of light blue, pink and orange. You struggle to take in the beauty due to the night that just transpired.

The vet hit and run. It was a hard one on Jack. He’d known guys like that in the military. They seemed untouchable, surviving tour after tour. It was never easy to watch one go, especially the ones that made it home and get taken out in some seemingly avoidable way.

Some church bell tolls in the distance. You approach him, unsure how to answer what you’re doing up here. Checking on you, wanting to make sure you’re okay, everyone’s worried but the reality was no one batted an eye at him escaping after spending the last two hours coding this guy into the system. This was how Jack operated. Disassociate, dissociate until he couldn’t anymore and his feet carried him up to the roof. Contemplating.

So you don’t say anything, you just stand behind him.

Jack’s skin looks golden up here. The light passing through his curls, catching the greys. Your heart tightens.

“It’s always a rough way to end the night.” You offer, unsure of what else to say.

“I must’ve had a reason at one time to keep coming back but… I can’t think of it right now.” Jack grips onto the railing, leaning forward and looking down below him.

You instinctively reach out to him, your hand going for his bicep, it’s closest to you. Despite the cool early morning air, his skin was still hot to the touch, still coming down from what had just gone down in the ER room.

“Jack…” You can’t help but sigh, silently pleading with him to stop.

His head turns, dark eyes meeting yours. God he looks so sad, a man worn down.

And you realize you’ve never called him by just his name. Just Jack.

“D-Dr Abbot, I mean- sorry.”

He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t particularly care right now. And the way you said it makes his heart tight like your hand is on his arm. Palms clammy with being so high up and so close to a ledge. You never liked heights and you hate that he’s always flirted with them.

He clicks his tongue, sighing before crouching down and reeling himself back over to your side of the railing. You sigh in relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath.

Jack is completely distraught. He looks wrecked, broken.

Your hand still on his arm, he comes to face you, standing so close but you can’t find it in you to step away from him, not when he’s like this.

Jack drops his forehead to your shoulder, you try not to freeze up at the sudden extreme closeness.

“Are you okay?” You ask dumbly, voice gone quiet because of how close he is. Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, plush flesh on soft cartilage. Jack shivers, turning his head slightly and his nose pushes into your neck.

What else is there to say to such a quiet man, lost in his own solitude of reflection.

“No.” He says simply, plainly.

Your heart aches for him.

Your hand is still on his arm, you flatten it and trail it up to his shoulder, squeezing him there.

He presses himself closer to you. You hold your breath, your heart threatening to leap up out of your throat. You swear he must feel it beating through his own chest. You think you can feel his.

He trails his nose along your neck, up your ear. You can feel that subtle white beard that carves the angles of his face so sharply, so perfectly, colour so soft and white it nearly blends into his skin seamlessly. They catch at your skin in that scratchy way and its almost too much.

His hands, they move and suddenly they’re on your waist, sliding around the circumference of you until he’s enveloped you in his strong arms. You can feel how sturdy he is, how solid and strong from years of exertion and force and yet you feel like you could blow away at any moment. This cannot be real. You can smell his hair, the remnants of his cologne peaking through the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. You can smell him.

He knows this shouldn’t really be happening. You both do. You’re both very much aware of that fact. Even though its just a hug its just a hug. Jack had been aware of it ever since that day in the family room when he first worried about you. Because that’s what friends do… they worry about each other, right? Friends….

Jack lets his nose travel higher, along your hairline behind your ear, relishing in the closeness of another living, breathing human being. Warm flesh against flesh, closeness of muscles and organs. Hearts, beating. When was the last time this happened? When was the last time he let his walls down like this? You both wondered.

“I’m sorry.” He offers lamely, voice quiet and matching yours. He tries to pull away from you but his body doesn’t get the memo, he stills clings to you. He’s afraid of what would happen if he were to let go now. Surely he’d crumble into nothing off this roof.

He moves his head, nose against your cheek as your hands move to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in your palms. You don’t want him away either. You need him close, suddenly very close. Despite your breathlessness at the closeness, you think you’d stop breathing if he were to pull away now. You wouldn’t bear it.

You shake your head no, “Don’t be.” You reassure him, voice still quiet.

Something posses you and you nudge your nose with his, Jack sighs loudly, arms tightening around you and you sigh too. Your mouth opens in an innocent way, trying to get more oxygen to your brain. But you can feel his breath on yours, feel it fanning against your lips and you lean closer, pushing your nose into his again and he has to use every iota of strength within him to not lunge into you.

This shouldn’t be happening, he reiterates to himself. All the alarms are going off in his head. He shouldn’t be touching you like this, he shouldn’t have grabbed you, you shouldn’t be letting him. You could both get in serious trouble for this.

But you fist at his shirt, hands trembling against his chest, feeling him, muscles under supple flesh. Your lips part, small breath fanning against his lips and he breaks. He’s just a man.

Jack presses his open mouth to yours, and you let him again for a reason he doesn’t quite understand. It’s sloppy in a desperate way, passionate and sad. You could cry if you weren’t so wrapped up in the feel of being completely encompassed by him, his soft lips on yours.

You open your mouth wider, your hands moving from his chest to wrap your arms completely around his neck, hauling his body into yours as if you couldn’t get any closer. You wanted to meld into him. Bone fusing to bone. You let your tongue poke out and suddenly he’s right there with you, his tongue going as far into your mouth as it possibly can, trying to get to every inch of you. Jack whines and you burn at the pathetic sound. A grown man, whimpering for you. Your knees threaten to buckle.

His body flush with yours, you can’t help but feel how his body reacts to you. Hard and solid against your hip, your leg as your bodies writhe against the other, pleading to get closer.

“Jack,” you whimper into his mouth, unsure, testing.

Jack lets his lips travel to the corner of your mouth, kissing every inch of you that he possibly can, your teeth as you say his name, your cheek, earlobe, the spot underneath your ear.

“Tell me to stop.” He groans, hands moving back to their spot on your waist, trailing down to your hips where he grinds you against him, making that aching part of him known.

You whimper again, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head like the sun threatens to come over that edge and catch you both where you ought not to be.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You admit, face burning even though you’re both as debauched and pathetic sounding as the other.

Boldly, you let one hand travel down from his neck, down his body to softly touch in between his legs, feeling where he’s hard, aching between his legs. He groans again, this time absolutely pained, his forehead dropping to yours.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” He admits, like you both don’t know that already. He’s practically begging you to give him a reason to stop this now, even though he knows he’s already too far gone to do anything at this point. You’re too warm, too welcoming and soft and willing. Salvation.

“Especially not here.” You manage to laugh a little. Suddenly you pull away from Jack and he thinks that’s it, you’re calling it. His instincts propel him to check his watch to check the time. T.O.D. Time of death. He’s being dramatic.

You pull him to the opening of the stairwell, creaking open that squeaky door once again and you lightly press him against the wall furthest away from the stairs.

It’s an enclosed space, a room up on the roof. You have to open another door to get to the stairs which lead all the way down to the ER, blocked by another set of doors. If someone were to go into the stairway, you’d hear them from a mile away. At least that’s what you hoped.

Jack let’s you move him, lets you press your body against his and kiss his tanned, freckled neck. Your hand finds its spot on his crotch, feeling him through his pants. God he hasn’t gone down an inch. He feels huge, painfully hard. You can’t believe you’re feeling him like this. You can’t believe The Jack Abbot is letting this happen, you can’t believe he wants it. With you.

“Can I?” You ask, already lowering yourself to your knees.

Jack just looks at you in complete and utter disbelief, mouth agape as he watches you get down on your knees, pressing your face to his clothed dick, kissing him through the fabric. Kill me now, he thinks. If anyone were to find you both like this…

He feels like a dirty old man as you pull his cock from his pants, watching it spring up and slap his belly with wide eyes, like you need it, like you’re suddenly starving.

His cock is huge. You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this. You try not to look frightened by it, by the prospect of shoving it into your mouth and hopefully, your cunt.

He’s your attendee, you try not to think about that. Try not to think about how you’re his subordinate and he’s so much older than you, experienced, well versed. This is all completely wrong, incredibly fucked up but fuck if it doesn’t turn the both of you on just a little more in the worst way.

His dick is hot in your hand, skin like silk and you salivate at the pure sight of it. You look up at him, his face flushed all the way up to his ears and down to what you can see of his chest poking out through the small v in his shirt. Skin on fire.

You give him a sort of inquisitive look and he realizes he never answered you. You looking up at him with those big, needy eyes. He can only bring himself to nod his head, at a lost for words.

You smile up at him, hand already gliding up and down his thick length. Jack hisses at the near foreign sensation, in this moment he can’t bring himself to remember the last time this happened, let alone a time when it wasn’t his own hand. Yours is much smaller, more delicate than his, you can barely wrap it around the entirety of him and suddenly he feels dizzy.

You lean forward, kissing the tip of him and he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, they open and close into fists at his sides. God does he want to touch you, to have you let him take what he wants but he’s afraid. Afraid of over stepping, afraid of scaring you.

Suddenly you’re opening your mouth and kissing at the head of him, licking at his slit, collecting whatever’s pooled there and humming to yourself at the taste. You’re worried you’ll become addicted to this.

More of him slides into your mouth, all the way until he’s hitting the back of your throat. Suddenly his hands are flying to the side of your head, holding you there. His eyes open and he looks down at you, eyes intense, mouth set into a hardline like he’s barely hanging by a thread. You make eye contact with him and he groans, loud. You’ve only ever seen him like this leaned over a patient, intense focus, blinders on to anything except the task at hand. But this time its you. Your pussy throbs.

Jack let’s himself thrust into your mouth a couple of times, eyes squeezed shut again, head leaned back against the wall behind him in complete surrender to you and your mouth. He says your name so broken, like its the only thing he can remember, the only thing keeping him grounded.

You wonder if he’ll let you fuck him.

A few more thrusts and suddenly Jack is pulling you off of him, looking back down at you again and hauling you back up to your feet. You give him the saddest eyes and he swears his heart breaks.

“I’m- I was gonna cum if you kept that up.” He sort of laughs to himself. Jack’s never felt more out of practice than he does now, pants down around his ankles, cock heavy and begging still in your hand, and a young, pretty girl looking at him with wet eyes, hungry for him.

What did he do in a past life to deserve this?

“That was kind of the idea.” You smile, bitting your lip and your hand continues to move up and down on his aching length.

Back face to face now, Jack can’t believe he has you like this, lips plump and swollen with exertion and slick with spit. Your eyes are dark with greed, hunger for something else. He never though this would happen, not between the two of you. Not that he ever explicitly thought about it but there were moments of weakness. Moments where he let his mind wander as he held your hand in his, guiding you through a procedure, noticing your body and its proximity, its warmth, that girlish smell you carry around you. You’ve always been intoxicating, a temptation just begging to be indulged in. Had he mentioned how wrong he thought all of this was?

“Jack?” You ask, pulling him out of this thoughts.

“Hmmm?” He basically slurs, distracted by the continuous movements of your hand on his cock, it was on the verge of turning painful.

“I asked you if you’re gonna fuck me.” You ask, devilish grin plastered on your face like you’re the cat who got the fucking cream. Or is at least trying to.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, voice cracking from your particularly harsh grip on him.

“Is that- Is that what you came up to the roof for?” He jokes but suddenly you think he’s being serious.

You worry thats all you thought of him, of this. A quick fuck, a need for release, a need to forget what happened tonight.

“No, Jack that’s not- I swear-” You struggle to find your words.

Jack smiles at you, it alleviates some of your worries. His hand moves and finds the waist band of your pants, he shoves it down until he’s cupping your sex. You gasp, his hand hot, feeling your hotter core and whats embarrassingly seeped out of you ever since you pulled him from the railing.

Jack clicks his tongue at you, like he always does.

“Yeah, I bet you want me to fuck you, alright. You’re soaking for it.”

Oh fuck.

You whimper, leaning easy into his touch, letting him feel you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his fingers gliding easy through your glossy folds, playing around in the mess you made. Its embarrassing. So much so that you almost miss him calling you baby.

Jack doesn’t fight the temptation long, no matter how much he wants to tease you about it. His two fingers find your hole and push in steadily, afraid to hurt you. You gasp, body falling into his, letting him hold you with his other arm. Your hand on his cock stutters but is determined to keep pleasuring him.

You moan when he pushes his fingers all the way in, crooking them to press up against that spongey spot inside of you, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head.

“Fuck-” You choke, head heavy on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, switching it up between that and toying with that fucking spot inside of you.

“Jack, I’m-”

“Oh I bet you are.” He chides and you burn.

This could have been so humiliating if you chose it to be. How quickly you folded for him, how badly and desperately you needed him. As if he hadn’t folded just as quickly, if not faster, for you.

Suddenly his fingers are ripped from your core and he’s ripping your pants down along with your underwear. You step out of them quickly, letting him manhandle you around to get you were you wants you.

“Look at you listening to me so easily now.” Jack remarks, turning you around and pushing you up against the wall.

“I always listen to you.” You admit, voice breathless and breaking and sounding completely debauched.

You feel him step in to your space, you arch your back instinctively and Jack basically purrs all soft for you. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance, threatening your folds. You whimper, shiver. You try to push into him but his hand flies to your neck, holding you still where you are.

He leans over your back, rucking your shirt up with the hand that was holding his dick. He hadn’t meant for this to happen like this, all dirty and rushed and in his fucking workplace. He thinks about the rest of you, hidden under your scrubs, how he’d kiss every inch. Maybe that was for another time. Hopefully.

“I know you do.” He praises, kissing the back of your neck and pushing into cunt in the same breath. You both groan way too loudly, pure relief coming over the both of you.

Jack breaches you slowly, he knows he’s big. He’s not even being any type of way about it, he just knows its a lot from past…. flings. But God do you take him like a champ. You push your hips back into his, needing him to fill you completely you’re fucking whimpering for it.

But Jack’s still got his hold on you, pinning you down so he can work you onto his cock slowly, at his own pace. He’s in control here.

You both moan again once he reaches the end of you, fully seated in your velvety pussy. His head falls onto your back, his arms wrapping around you to hold you to him, anything to get closer. You scramble to gain purchase on anything, the wall, his strong arms, anything. You feel dizzy, you feel full, you feel drunk.

“Always so good for me. Such a good girl” He moans, hips pulling back to just thrust back in punishingly. It punches a moan out from your gut.

You nod your head, unable to speak. I try to be good, I try to be.

Jack doesn’t wait, this has to be quick anyways, you both have been gone for far too long, he’s suddenly reminded that the day shift will be showing up in a matter of minutes and God knows Robby will be looking for him up here. His dick throbs at the thought of being caught balls deep inside of you, his little med student.

He pulls you back by the ass to meet his hips, pumping himself in and out of your creamy pussy at a brutal pace, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. He says your name, you’ve never heard him say a name quite like that and it breaks you.

“I-Is this good?” He asks, trying to be sexy but it comes out broken, desperate and pathetic.

You nod your head frantically again, trying to turn your head to look at him and Jack’s heart soars at the sight. Your pupils blown black, eyes big and watery from the feel of his cock filling you up to the absolute brim, hair matted to your sweaty forehead. He wants to lick the sweat from you. Next time, next time.

Jack leans closer, kissing you on the open mouth and you moan debauchedly into him. As he moved closer to you to keep kissing you it pushed his cock that much further into you, his hips grinding into your ass and his cock into the absolute end of you. You can barely keep yourself standing, you’re thankful for Jack’s strength keeping you up, you could’ve had both feet off the ground and you’d have no idea.

His cock pummels into you, moan after moan being punched from your chest, your gut, the deepest part of you.

You whimper into his mouth at his sweet kisses in contrast with his harsh thrusts, it was enough to make your head spin, your pussy clench, threatening to burst.

“Tell me it’s good, need you to say it for me.”

“S-So good, Jack. You feel-”

“Yeah?”

You cry, you think a lone tear falls from your eye and maybe Jack kisses it away or licks it but his cock doesn’t stop and suddenly you’re cumming, completely surrendering your body to his. You shudder and twitch and your pussy squeezes his dick so tight he nearly sees stars, it takes everything in him to not blow his load inside of you in that instant.

That would be bad, that would be really bad, that would be messy and irresponsible and fuck he’s not wearing a condom how could you both have been so stupid and drunk off each other to not grab a condom. It’s not like you have them in your scrubs but theres a dispenser in the bathroom and -

“Jack please,” You beg, voice so small and worn out. Your hand reaches out behind you, grabbing for him and suddenly he’s pulled back to the very real reality where he is fucking the shit out of you and he’s about to cum about it.

“Please what?” He asks, needing to hear you say it.

“Need you- need you to cum for me. Please Jack.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want this to be over, he needs this to go on forever, needs you to suddenly be his salvation, he’s not quite sure how he’s gone on this long without you but he knows he can’t go forward without it.

Jack’s body tenses, his cock somehow gets impossibly harder, you feel it thicken inside of you and you moan again, another orgasm threatening to rip through you.

But suddenly he’s pulling himself out of your greedy hole, his voice breaking as he spills himself onto the concrete floor beneath the both of you. Your cunt pulses, desperate to have him fill you again. Before you can protest his fingers lunge up into your abused hole again and he grating at that spot inside of you, the one that has you seeing stars.

“Need another one, yeah?”

“Jack- fuck!” It complete takes over you.

Somehow without having to even tell him, he felt the way your pussy spasmed and cried around him right before he pulled out, he knew you were close to cumming again. And ever the gentleman he is, he’s going to give you another one.

He’s unrelenting, just like he was with his cock. His two fingers crook up against that spot again and suddenly you’re seeing stars.

Jack’s arm wraps around the front of your shoulders, hauling your back straight against his chest, holding your trembling body to his. You can feel his slowly softening cock against your lower back, cum still dripping from it onto your ass.

“Do it, please.” He begs of you this time, the muscles in both arms trembling from his own orgasm.

Jack feels your pussy spasm again, feels the way your chest quickens its breathes, the way your feet nearly kick out from under you with the strength of it all and your cumming on his hand, your eyes going black and blind from the force of it.

You slump back against him, letting him hold you once again. Jack wraps both his arms around you, swinging you around so that his back is pressed against the wall so he can lean on something. You both try to catch your breath, clinging to each other with leftover desperation.

Greedily, he lets a hand swipe through your abused folds, collecting what you’ve given him. You whimper, leaning your head back to hide it in his neck, embarrassed.

“Jack,” you whine in a pathetic attempt at protesting.

He clicks his tongue at you, “Let me.” He tells you, plainly.

His fingers linger, scooping up what he can and bringing it to his lips. He licks everything, groaning at the taste and letting his eyes close. You whine, pushing your face further into his neck, smelling him. He smells manly, like sweat, cologne and sex. You let it envelop you.

Jack holds you like that for as long as he humanly can. Before the thoughts of getting caught inevitably come crashing down upon him again.

“We have to move, kid. Can’t stay like this forever.” He tells you in a sad tone. You press a final kiss to his neck, breathing him in before pulling away.

“I know.”

You both pull yourselves back together. Jack puts his own pants back on as he watches you pull your underwear on slowly. Mindlessly, he reaches for your pants and holds them out for you. You put your hands on his shoulders while you step into them.

“Thank you.” You tell him, voice gone quiet again, like you already have to be hush hush about this.

Jack kisses the top of your head sweetly. You wonder what’s to come after this. You look up at him and he gives you that slick side smile you’ve only seen him throw Robby or Dana.

“Didn’t know you could make noises like that.” He smiles and you push him back against the wall you were both just fucking up against, your face absolutely burning. This motherfucker likes making fun of you.

“Jack I swear to God-”

He grabs you and kisses you again, holding your face to his. You let him kiss you, fighting the want to just melt back into him and stay here.

Jack pulls away first. His anxiety getting the best of him.

“Can I drive you home?” He asks, unsure of what else to say. He needs to get you out of the workplace and have a normal fucking conversation with you that doesn’t revolve around grief and dying kids and elderly on life support.

And besides he knows you take the bus.

“Yes please.”

okayyy i literally had to cut it short because this shit was getting too long LOL, i had a full final act outlined but maybe that could be a shorter part two if anyone's interested..... lmk <3

#jack abbott #jack abbot #dr abbott #dr abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #reader insert #smut #jack abbot fic #dr abbot fic #jack abbot smut #my writing

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happy74827 · 3 months ago

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Bruised Shadows

[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: While coming home from another grueling job, Bucky found himself ambushed by the unrelenting warmth of his neighbor’s compassion.

WC: 3002

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Grumpy x Sunshine (fav trope fr)

I decided to post one of my drafts since it has been decades since I’ve posted last… whoops 👀

『��•✎••』

Bucky Barnes didn’t notice the blood until it dripped onto the scuffed toe of his boot. A crimson bead, sharp against the black leather, caught the dim hallway light as he trudged toward his apartment. He swiped the back of his flesh hand across the bridge of his nose, smearing the trickle, and grunted. Didn’t hurt. Barely registered. The serum had a way of dulling the sting of split skin and bruised bone—nothing a few hours wouldn’t knit back together. The ache in his knuckles from the job, though? That lingered, a quiet reminder of the fists he’d thrown and the unconscious bodies he’d left sprawled in some warehouse two states over.

The duffel bag slung over his vibranium shoulder thumped rhythmically against his hip, heavy with gear he hadn’t bothered to unpack. Another day, another mess cleaned up with Sam, for which he took most of the credit, but Bucky didn’t care much about the public eye—just the doing. It kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Kept the nightmares at bay, if only for a night.

He was three steps from his door, key already fished from his pocket, when he heard it—your voice, soft as a damn spring breeze, cutting through the stale air of the hallway.

"James?"

He froze but didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew it was you—only you called his name like that like it wasn’t a curse or a weapon. Like it was just… his. He clenched his jaw, the ache in his bruised eye socket pulsing faintly as he willed you to keep walking. You lived two doors down, always too close for comfort, always too you—bright and warm and everything he wasn’t. He’d spent months dodging the way you lingered in his trajectory, all soft smiles and small talk he didn’t deserve.

"James, oh my God, what happened to your face?"

There it was—concern, thick and unfiltered, wrapping around him like a blanket he didn’t ask for. He turned his head just enough to catch you in his peripheral, and Christ, there you were—hair a little messy from whatever late-night project you’d been buried in, eyes wide and shining with that unbearable kindness. You were clutching a mug, steam curling from it, probably tea or something equally gentle. You looked like an angel, and he felt like the devil himself standing there, bloodied and hulking in his tactical gear.

"It’s nothing," he muttered, voice low and rough, turning back to his door. "I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding." Your footsteps pattered closer, too quick for him to escape, and suddenly you were right there—close enough that he could smell the lavender on you, feel the warmth radiating off your skin. His metal arm twitched, instinct screaming at him to pull away before he tainted you somehow. "Your nose, your eye—James, that’s not nothing."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, wincing when it stung the raw skin. "I’ve had worse. Go back to your tea."

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. You never listened when he tried to brush you off, and it drove him up the damn wall—how you’d barrel through his gruff exterior like it was tissue paper. You set the mug on the floor—carefully because you were always careful—and grabbed his sleeve, tugging with a strength that surprised him for someone so soft. "No, you’re coming with me. I’m not letting you bleed all over your apartment when I can help."

"You?" He arched a brow, the bruised one, and regretted it when it pulled at the swelling. "What’re you gonna do, stitch me up?"

"If I have to." Your tone was firm and stubborn, and he hated how it made his chest tighten. "Come on."

He could’ve pulled away. He could’ve shrugged you off with a flick of his arm—vibranium or flesh. It didn’t matter; you were no match for him. He was a goddamn super soldier, a walking weapon, and you were… what? A civilian with a bleeding heart and a brain too sharp for your good. He’d seen you solve crossword puzzles in two minutes flat and heard you ramble about obscure history facts when he’d lingered too long in the laundry room. You weren’t an Avenger, weren’t SHIELD—just a woman who’d wormed her way into his life with cookies and quiet conversations, and now here you were, dragging him toward your apartment like he was some stray you needed to fix.

And he let you. God help him, he let you.

Your place smelled like you—lavender and vanilla and something faintly sweet, like the cookies you’d left outside his door last week with a note that said, "Don’t be a grump; eat something." The lights were warm and soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents in his sparse apartment. You pushed him toward the couch with a gentle shove, and he dropped the duffel by the door, too tired to argue.

"Sit," you ordered, already darting to the kitchen. "And don’t move."

He sat, legs sprawled, metal arm resting heavily on the cushion. His flesh hand rubbed at the back of his neck, where tension coiled tight. He didn’t belong here—didn’t belong in your orbit, period. You were sunlight, and he was a shadow, all sharp edges and dark corners. The Winter Soldier might’ve been gone, scrubbed clean by Wakanda and time, but the nightmares still clawed at him—flashes of blood screams, faces he couldn’t unsee. He woke up some nights with his vibranium fist clenched so hard it creaked, half-expecting to find a body under him. You didn’t know that. You didn’t know him. And he’d kept it that way, only feeding you scraps—his arm, the war, vague mentions of missions—because the full truth would send you running.

You came back with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a first-aid kit that looked like it’d seen better days. "Tilt your head back," you said, kneeling in front of him.

You were too close. Way too close.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled, reaching for the cloth.

You swatted his hand away—actually swatted it like he wasn’t just pounds of muscle and metal who could snap your wrist without blinking. "Stop it. Let me."

He stared at you, jaw tight, blue eyes narrowing under the bruised lid. You stared back, unflinching, and he saw it—the worry etched into your brow, the way your lips pressed together like you were holding back a lecture. He relented, tipping his head back against the couch because fighting you felt like kicking a puppy.

The cloth was cool against his skin, and your touch—God, your touch—was feather-light, dabbing at the blood on his nose with a care that made his throat close up. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, the way your lashes fluttered as you focused, the little furrow between your brows. You were so gentle it hurt, like a bruise he couldn’t shake off.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, quieter than he meant. "I’m not your problem."

"You’re not a problem at all," you shot back, not missing a beat. "You’re my neighbor. And my friend. And you’re hurt, so I’m helping. Deal with it."

Friend. The word lodged in his chest like a bullet. He didn’t have any friends since Steve—not really. Sam, maybe, on a good day. But you? You’d been chipping away at him for months, ever since he’d moved in—leaving him coffee when you caught him coming back from a run, asking about his arm like it was just another part of him, not a relic of his sins. He’d grumbled, dodged, and kept his distance, but you kept coming back, sunny and relentless, until he couldn’t imagine the hallway without you in it.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, brushing the cloth over the swelling around his eye. Your fingers grazed his cheek, and he tensed, every muscle locking up.

"No," he lied. It didn’t hurt—not the way you meant. No, the pain was deeper, a gnawing thing that came from how soft you were, how close you were, how much he wanted to lean into it and couldn’t.

"You’re a terrible liar!" you said, smiling faintly. “You’re all tense. I’m not gonna break you, you know.”

But I could break you, he thought, and the idea made his stomach twist. His strength wasn’t just in the arm—it was in every fiber of him, honed by decades of violence. He could lift you with one hand and crush your bone without trying. He’d done it before, under Hydra’s leash, and the memory of it—of fragile things shattering under his grip… kept him up at night. You didn’t know that. You saw the arm, sure, but you didn’t know its weight or danger.

You rinsed the cloth, pink water swirling in the bowl, and came back to his eye, your breath fanning over his skin. He could feel the heat of you, the steadiness of your hands, and it undid him—slowly, thread by thread. He wanted to pull away, to growl at you to stop, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because you were looking at him like he was worth something, and he hadn’t felt that in so long, it scared him.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, voice rough, almost accusatory. "I’m fine. I’m always fine."

You paused, cloth hovering over his cheek, and your eyes flicked up to his—big, earnest, piercing. "Because you’re not fine, Bucky. Not always. And even if you were, I’d still care. You don’t have to go through everything alone."

His breath hitched, and he hated it—hated how you saw through the cracks he’d patched up with sarcasm and silence. He shifted, flesh hand curling into a fist on his thigh. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you said, soft but insistent. "I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’m here. You know that, right?"

He didn’t answer. The words were stuck, tangled in the mess of his head. And it seemed as if you knew that because you didn’t push; you just went back to cleaning his face, and the silence stretched thick with everything he wouldn’t say.

When you finished, the blood was gone, the bruising still dark but less angry. You sat back on your heels, studying him like you were checking your work. "There. You look less like you lost a bar fight."

He snorted, a rare sound, and your smile widened—bright, unguarded, like you’d won something. He felt it then, the pull he’d been fighting for months—the way his chest warmed when you looked at him, the way his guard slipped when you laughed. He liked you. More than liked you. And it terrified him.

You stood, gathering the supplies, and he caught your wrist—vibranium fingers light but firm. You froze, eyes darting to his, and he saw the question there, the flicker of surprise.

"You shouldn’t," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brows furrowed. "Shouldn’t what?"

"Like me. Care about me. Whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between you, his metal hand dropping to hide under his jacket. "I’m not… I’m not good for you."

The silence that followed was heavy and thick with unspoken things. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward again, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He could’ve crushed steel with less effort than it took to stay still under that touch.

"James," you said, voice soft but firm, "you don’t get to decide that for me."

He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking. "You don’t know me. Not really."

"Then tell me." Your eyes searched his, open and unafraid. "Tell me who you are, what you think I can’t handle. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the guy who’s sat through my terrible movie marathons, who’s fixed my leaky sink without me asking, who’s looked out for me even when you didn’t have to. That’s who I see."

He wanted to argue, to tell you about the bodies he’d left behind, the decades he’d spent as a puppet for killers. But the words wouldn’t come. You were looking at him like he was worth something, and it was unraveling him stitch by stitch.

"You deserve better," he rasped, barely audible. "Someone whole. Someone who’s not… broken."

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. "James, I don’t want 'better.' I want you. Broken pieces and all."

He stared at you, heart hammering, torn between shoving you away and pulling you closer. Your hand was warm against the cool metal, your gaze unflinching, and he felt the dam break—the walls he’d built crumbling under the weight of you. He wanted to believe it, wanted to let himself have this, but the fear lingered, sharp and insistent.

"You’re too good," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too damn good."

You smiled, small and tentative, and leaned in—just enough that he could feel your breath on his lips. "Maybe you’re just enough."

He didn’t know who moved first—maybe him, maybe you—but suddenly, your lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of tea. It was slow and hesitant, his flesh hand cupping your cheek like you might shatter if he pressed too hard. The kiss was a question, a confession, and when you sighed against him, he answered—deepening it, letting himself feel you, taste you, for the first time.

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d liked. He missed you the second you had pulled back to rest your forehead against him. Your fingers brushed his jaw, and he felt the tension bleed out of him, replaced by something softer, something he hadn’t let himself name until now.

"I’m not going anywhere," you whispered.

And for once, he believed it.

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to6ge · 5 months ago

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— ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و the look of love.

౨ৎ batboys x gn!reader ( separated ) ౨ৎ cw . non-proof read. ౨ৎ summary . how they look at you ౨ৎ . gwens note . short and rushed fic ౨ৎ wc . 327

the amount of love in dick’s eyes was overwhelming. his gaze would dilate whenever you were near, his eyes softening, smiling in a way that felt so intimate. he looked at you like you his whole world, unwavering and unrelenting. his love poured out of him so completely it was almost suffocating. there is no hint of anything else but fondness in his eyes. this man has absolutely zero amount of nonchalance.

oh geez, the way jason’s eyes would immediately soften when his gaze meets you. everyone would’ve noticed how tender his gaze seemed whenever you were there. he searches everywhere for you. whenever you walk into the room, his eyes would light up as well. his blinks are slow, signaling that hes relaxed and calm around you. ( i headcanon that jason would sometimes avoid your gaze cause he gets nervous at times, though. )

tim looks at you as if he was studying your every move. he notices every single detail and quirk of you. yes, he pays attention to your features. and he remembers every single one of them. sometimes, he would point out some of your features that he absolutely adores. ( i feel like if tim were to come across those tiktok posts where its like ‘find out what type of pretty you are’ videos, he would answer for you and send it to you, stating which one you are. )

damian’s eyes never leave you. if he was to tell a joke and you were around, he’d immediately look at you to see if you heard him, searching for the slightest hint of a reaction. the world could quite literally be falling apart before him, and he’d still keep hold of his gaze. his eyes would always follow you wherever you go. however, his gaze is quite intense. most of the times, he looks like he’s silently judging your every move, when he’s actually just quietly looking out for you, just in case something happens.

reblogs and likes are very appreciated ! thank you luvlies for reading ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

#blossoming haze 🪷#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dc comics #batfamily #batman #dc #dick grayson x reader #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson #damian al ghul #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x reader #tim drake #timothy drake

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ddlydevotion · 21 days ago

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IMAGINE BEING LOVED BY ME

nsfw bo chow headcanons

a/n: it’s currently 3:20 am here but I had to write this because Bo hasn’t left my mind since I last watched Sinners 💌. I also want to clarify that this wasn’t written solely for white audiences, that’d be stupid of me to do as I’m a poc myself (I know people have been worried about that in regards to Sinners fanfiction). Read my other Sinners works here ⚰️.

- I have a feeling he’d have some sort of obsession with your ass. He just seems like the type to give you an appreciative tap but not before saying “atta girl”. He’ll softly squeeze your ass as the two of you engage in a messy make out session, the sensation of his strong hands on you making your face flush with arousal.

- I know I already said this in my last post about Remmick, but I genuinely believe Bo wouldn’t mind you having a bush. I mean, it is the 1930’s so I don’t think he’d pay it any mind. He’s able to comfort you in such a swift manner it’s almost like his super power. He never fails to make you feel comfortable in the bedroom when you suddenly become too aware of your surroundings or insecurities.

“Hey-baby, look at me. You’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Keep your eyes on me, that’s right. Focus on me, baby, it’s alright.”

- oh my gosh have you seen this man’s hands? I have no doubt in my mind that he’d put them to good use when he’s working to make you cum. He curls his fingers in just the right way, cooing at your trembling form and pressing a hard thumb to your pulsing clit. He’ll twist his fingers in a way that he knows will make your back arch and your mouth open in a silent, gasping moan.

- Bo knows your body and he knows exactly what will get you going. He knows how your body shudders when he kisses the back of your neck. He knows that your plush thighs will eventually shake when he twists his thick fingers inside of your swollen pussy. He knows your manicured fingers will run through his thick, dark hair while his tongue flicks across your perky nipples, his drool drizzling over your tits like syrup. He knows your teary eyes will search for his when you’re on your knees for him, his thick cock finding a home within your warm, wet mouth.

- He’s a sucker for eye contact and his knees would buckle if you were to engage in eye contact with him while you throat him. He’d gently cradle your cheek, encouraging you to continue looking at him. “Look a’chu, baby”, his hips thrust his cock even deeper into your welcoming mouth, “so good f’me.”

- I see him being a family man and developing an obsession with achieving a family with you. He’s constantly doing his best to prove to you that he’s capable of providing for you & a family. Constantly talking about what a good ‘mama’ you’d be. So…breeding kink?

- yeah, I think we all know that Bo would be the type to talk you through it. His dirty talk is so fleshed out and almost teasing. It’s enough to make your eyes water from how overwhelming the pleasure is, your neck heating up from the unrelenting attention.

“Look at all that, baby, you’ve been walkin’ around with your pussy drippin’ like this all day? Don’t worry, I’ve gotchu. Daddy’s here now.”

- ughh just thinking about the dance scene between Grace and Bo and how sensual it was. This man is such a romantic and an incredibly attentive lover. He knows what you like & what it takes to get you going.

- you definitely got pregnant while the two of you were on your honeymoon. He would not get off of you!!

- He’s definitely taken you behind the counter at the store. There’s been many times where his touchy tendencies worsen when the two of you finally close for the day. He’s finally alone with his wife and you expect him to behave? He’s far too impatient to wait for the two of you to go home, so the countertop will have to do.

#x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #sinners x fem reader #bo chow sinners #sinners 2025 x reader #sinners x reader #bo chow x reader #bo chow imagine #bo chow smut #bo chow oneshot

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 3 months ago

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𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ .༯ RUINED BY WAR ?! 🐋

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Paring : God of war Mydei x Goddess of Peace fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, c*m play, holding orgasm, semi-public s*x, hair pulling, cow-girl, multiple (three) rounds, dark content?, implied dubcon, size kink. mydei is a huge perv here. [GOD OF WAR SERIES] ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ synopsis : In a world divided between war and peace, you, the Goddess of Peace, find yourself drawn to the one being who defies everything you stand for—Mydei, the ruthless God of War. His touch is rough, his presence overwhelming, and yet, when you're in his grasp, resistance crumbles like ruins beneath a battlefield. He should be your greatest enemy, but in the dark, when his hands claim you. And as he takes you, possessive, unrelenting, you realize that even peace was meant to surrender.

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ note : very quick fic also not proof-read & lazy writing. also mydei calls u “mine”. I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES, I was too scared to post it.

In a realm where war and peace existed in a fragile balance, you were revered as the Goddess of Peace, a beacon of serenity in a world rife with conflict. Yet, despite your divine status, you felt an undeniable pull toward the one being who represented everything you opposed—the ruthless God of War, Mydei. His very presence ignited a tempest within you, a clash of desires that threatened to unravel the peace you fought so hard to maintain.

Tonight, under the glow of the moonlight, you found yourself in the ruins of an ancient temple, the remnants of a battlefield surrounding you. Mydei awaited you there, a powerful figure shrouded in shadows. His golden armor gleamed ominously, framing his muscular physique. As you approached, your heart raced, anticipation flooding your senses.

It was a dangerous pull, an attraction you had no business entertaining—but that only made it more irresistible. You should have fought it, should have turned away, but the thrill of being hunted, of knowing you were just one misstep away from falling into his hands, set your pulse racing. Every time your paths crossed, the air crackled with tension, heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. And when he finally caught you—fingers twisting into your hair, yanking you closer—resistance melted into something far sweeter than surrender.

“Look who graced me with her presence,” he purred, a wicked grin curling at the corners of his lips. “The Goddess of Peace, all alone. Have you come to plead for mercy, or perhaps to indulge in a more… thrilling escapade?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “I’m not here to beg, Mydei. You’re not the only one who enjoys a little chaos now and then.” Your tone was bratty, a challenge thrown at his feet, and you could see the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, is that so?” His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson about what happens when you provoke a god.”

Before you could respond, Mydei’s hands shot out, grasping your waist and pulling you against him. His touch was rough, igniting a fire within you. “You think you can handle what I have to offer?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe I can handle you better than you think,” you shot back, the bravado in your voice masking the thrill of—fear that coursed through you. You reveled in the challenge, knowing it only fueled his desire.

With a swift movement, he spun you around, pinning you against the cool stone wall of the temple. The sudden shift made your breath hitch, and you gasped as he captured your wrists above your head, his strength overwhelming. “You’re going to learn that I always get what I want,” he hissed, leaning closer to graze his lips against your neck.

His kisses sent electricity coursing through your body, and your heart raced with exhilaration and danger. “You don’t own me,” you protested, but the defiance in your words was half-hearted. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating from him, made it hard to maintain your composure.

“Ah, but I do,” he replied, his grip tightening in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. “You’ve always been drawn to danger, haven’t you? Let’s see how well you can handle this.”

With that, he pushed his hips against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a promise of the raw pleasure that awaited. A thrill of excitement shot through you, and you bit your lip, suppressing a moan.

“Show me what you’ve got, War God,” you taunted, challenging him as you ground your hips against him. “I can take it.”

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, and he growled low in his throat. “You’re a brat,” he said, shaking his head with a hint of amusement. “I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming—your moans echoed in the temple, mingling with the sounds of the night. “That’s it, Goddess. Let go,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he claimed you.

You felt every inch of him sliding deep inside, stretching you deliciously, and you gasped, arching your back against the stone. “More, Mydei,” you breathed, relishing the dominance he exerted over you. “I want all of you.”

“Such a greedy little thing,” he mused, his thrusts becoming harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hands roamed your curves, fingers digging into your hips as he took control, but you wouldn’t let him have all the power. You arched your back, grinding against him, trying to take the lead.

“Do you really think you can handle this?” he challenged, thrusting deeper, making you gasp. “You’re just a sweet little Goddess, but I’m a god of war. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Maybe I like danger,” you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll go.”

He responded with a harsh thrust that had you gasping, your walls tightening around him as pleasure surged. “You’re going to regret this,” he warned, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

As he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, and you moaned louder, feeling the tension coiling in your core. “Please, don’t stop!” you begged, wanting him to push you to the edge, to shatter the peace you’d fought to uphold.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and possessive. “I want to see you lose control. I want to see you begging for release.”

With each powerful thrust, he drove you closer to the brink, a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins. His hands were everywhere, gripping your thighs, pulling your hair, leaving you breathless and wanting more. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me,” you urged, your body writhing against his as you chased your climax. “M—Make me yours.”

Mydei’s growl echoed through the temple, primal and raw, as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. “That’s it, come for me,” he commanded, and you obeyed, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your body convulsed around him.

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity, Mydei followed suit. With a deep groan, he filled you completely, his body pressed against yours as he marked you as his own. His grip on you tightened possessively, pulling you closer as he buried his cock deep inside of your pussy, claiming you with every thrust. “You belong to me,” he breathed, voice rough and filled with a dark, consuming passion. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, holding you in place as he drove deeper, making sure you felt every inch of him, every part of his claim over you.

Breathing heavily, you both collapsed against the wall, panting in the aftermath of your passion. You felt a rush of exhilaration and vulnerability, your heart racing in the wake of what you had just shared.

“Even the Goddess of Peace can’t resist the pull of chaos,” Mydei murmured, his hands gently stroking your hair. “Next time, I’ll make you beg even harder.”

You smirked, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Bring it on, War God. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

As the moon hung high in the night sky, the aftermath of your first union left you breathless, your body still trembling from the pleasure that had consumed you. Mydei’s powerful frame pressed against you, his body still radiating heat, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you. The feel of his cock still buried deep inside your pussy had you on the edge, each pulse sending waves of raw pleasure through you. Even as you caught your breath, the familiar stirrings of desire began to rise again, an undeniable heat igniting deep within your core, hungry for more of him.

“Do you think you can handle more, Goddess?” Mydei challenged, his voice a low growl as he caught your gaze, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Because I’m far from done with you.”

You smirked, that familiar defiance bubbling to the surface. “I can take anything you throw at me, Mydei. Show me what you’ve got.”

With a swift, dominating motion, he grasped your waist again, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around him, craving the feel of him inside you once more. This time, there was no gentleness in his approach—he slammed you back against the wall, the stone cold and unforgiving, contrasting with the heat building between your bodies.

“Hold on tight,” he growled, the promise of what was to come sending shivers down your spine. Without warning, he plunged into you again, and the force of his thrusts sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your clit brushed against him with every powerful stroke, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you.

“Gods, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice dripping with challenge as you pushed back against him, desperate for more. You reveled in the way he filled you, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, a primal hunger overtaking him. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more ferocious. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the temple as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

His hands gripped your thighs, roughly pushing them apart further, giving him deeper access. You could feel every inch of him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls, each movement drawing out moans from your lips. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink, your doe eyes wide with need and submission, gazing up at him as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling beneath him, unable to escape the depths of desire he had awakened inside you.

“Do you like that, Goddess?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“More, Mydei! I need more!” you gasped, the pleasure building with each savage thrust, your body responding eagerly to his dominance. You could feel your clit pulsing, desperate for attention, a constant throb that only intensified with every motion. You began to roll your hips against him, grinding harder, seeking that sweet friction that would push you over the edge again. Your breath came in ragged gasps, eyes wild with need as you begged for more, willing to do anything to feel that release tearing through you once again.

“Such a needy little thing,” he teased, pulling back slightly before slamming into you again, harder this time. The impact made your body quiver, a rush of pleasure flooding you as he found that sweet spot deep inside. “You want to come again, don’t you?”

“Y—Yes! Please!” you cried out, feeling your body tighten around him. You wanted everything he had to offer, wanted to feel him claim you again. “D—Don’t stop! Just like that!”

Mydei's grip on your thighs tightened as he plunged into you, the sound of your bodies joining filling the air. The sheer intensity of his thrusts left you breathless, the way he filled you was a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He was relentless, driving you higher, pushing you toward that precipice once more.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate,” he growled, his eyes locked on your bouncing tits, your body reacting to every thrust. “I could watch you like this forever.”

You felt yourself getting closer, the coil of pleasure tightening with each stroke. “I’m so close, M—Mydei! Please!”

He responded with a fierce thrust, the sensation sending you spiraling. “Come for me, Goddess. Let me see you lose control.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you surrendered completely, the pleasure crashing over you in a tidal wave. Your body quaked around him as your orgasm surged through every nerve, the sound of your moans echoing in the temple as you clung to him, desperate for release.

Mydei followed you, the sight of your climax pushing him over the edge as he filled you again, his cock throbbing inside you, warmth flooding you completely. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine.”

As you both came down from the high, gasping for breath, Mydei still held you tightly against him, his cock softening but still buried deep inside you. The warmth and closeness made you feel alive, electric, a mix of dominance and vulnerability swirling around you.

“Round two, and you still managed to surprise me,” he said, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I’m not done yet. You wanted chaos, and I’m going to give it to you.”

Your heart raced at the promise in his words, knowing this night was far from over. You couldn’t wait to see just how deep he could take you, and you were more than ready to surrender to it.

The air was thick with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, your bodies still entwined as you caught your breath. The moonlight poured in through the crumbling stones of the ancient temple, illuminating the raw hunger in Mydei's eyes. He wasn’t done with you yet, and the thought sent a fresh thrill of anticipation through your veins.

“You still think you can handle me?” he asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pulled back, his cock slipping from your warmth. The absence of him left you aching, a void that yearned to be filled again.

“Please, Mydei. I can take whatever you have for me,” you replied, your voice sultry and teasing, the bratty edge returning. You could feel the power shift in the air, the tension palpable as you dared him to push your limits.

“Good,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up, your back pressed against the cool stone. “Because I’m going to make you beg for it this time.”

He positioned you so that your legs were wrapped around his waist, and with one swift motion, he plunged back inside, filling you to the hilt. You gasped, the sensation igniting your senses all over again. “That’s it, Goddess,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re going to take every inch of me.”

“Fuck, Mydei!” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust. Each movement was deliberate, powerful, designed to push you to the edge of pleasure and back. He was relentless, driving deeper, his cock brushing against all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to bliss.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commanded, his breath hot against your skin. “Beg for it.”

“I—I want it so bad,” you panted, urgency lacing your words. “I need you, God of war. Please, don’t hold back. I want to feel you everywhere.”

The title sent a spark of approval through his gaze, and he responded by increasing the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the temple. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, each thrust punctuated with the weight of his dominance. “You’re going to be mine tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mydei! I’m yours! Use me!” you cried, your body arching against him, craving more of his raw, possessive energy. You felt that familiar pressure building in your core, the sweet, impending release beckoning you.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now let’s see how well you can take it.” With renewed vigor, he thrust into you harder, pushing you against the stone, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

“Please, let me come!” you begged, your body quivering with need. “I want to feel you fill me!”

“Not yet,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “I want to see you desperate for it. I want to see you beg for my cum.”

You could feel the tension in your body reaching its peak, the heat pooling in your core, and you desperately sought that release. “Please, Mydei! I need your cum! I want it inside me!”

“Such a needy little goddess,” he teased, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Fine, but only if you can take it.”

With that, he thrust harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure built like a raging storm, and you could barely hold on, your body begging for the release you craved.

“Now, come for me!” Mydei commanded, his voice dark and demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. With one final, brutal thrust, he drove deep inside you, pushing you over the edge. Your body erupted in a tidal wave of pleasure, the intense sensation crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenched around him, your back arching as your orgasm tore through you, shaking you to your core. You cried out, gasping for air, completely consumed by the pleasure he had given you, unable to stop the flood of sensations that flooded your body.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed, the pleasure washing over you as you felt his warmth spill inside you, filling you completely.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his thrusts slowing as he filled you, claiming you entirely. The sensations mingled—his heat, the remnants of your orgasm, and the thrill of being utterly at his mercy.

You both collapsed against the stone, panting for breath, bodies entwined as the moonlight wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

Tag list : @lov3-ly , @shenstings , @sereinz , @mydeilvr , @ylimeprive , @ereinn , @over-active-daydreamer , @nekochansaysnyaa , @nezupost , @feixiaoswife , @prettyihwa , @angel-of-requiem , @mr-crawlings-wife , @sunnywrites101 .

#blueberrisdove #mydei hsr #honkai star rail mydei #mydei smut #mydeimos #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydei x y/n #hsr x female reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #cw : dubcon

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lokidjarin-7567 · 7 months ago

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Day 13: Overstimulation

Bucky Barnes x You

Contents: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier, smut!

W/C: ~750

Happy Halloween!! Kind of fitting that I’m posting the 13th day on Halloween, even if I’m very behind!! This is maybe the smuttiest yet so hope you all enjoy!

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Baby, please…” you whimpered, squirming on his mechanical fingers, trying and failing to wriggle away from his unrelenting touch.

“I’m sorry, doll, I didn’t hear a safe word in that pathetic whine.” He teased, shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“Fuck…” You could barely breathe, the crushing wave of another orgasm fast approaching as he continued to hold you down on the kitchen counter. Your back pressed harder against the cool marble, hips simultaneously bucking into and away from his hand, your legs still shaking from the last peak he had brought you to, and the one before that, and before that…

A sob tore from your throat as you came, vision going black and body moving completely beyond your control, soaking pussy pulling his fingers into you. You tried to catch your breath, gazing up at him in a fucked-out haze before realising he was still going. He was still fucking going. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the realisation. You were so spent and sore, very muscle aching, and you felt so sensitive every time he brushed over your clit you cried out. Tears were streaming down your face as you tried to talk to him, but you could even think straight, let alone breathe or speak. But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more, everything he could give you, even if you were a sobbing wreck.

In reality, he could go forever. His robotic hand meant he never slowed, he never tired, he never changed his pace or pressure unless he means to. He just continued to fuck his fingers into you, hitting the perfect angle that had your vision blurring already.

“I think you’ve got at least two more left in you, doll..” he cooed, head cocking slightly as his eyes raked over your exposed form. And involuntary sob fell from your lips as he said that, but your cunt throbbed around him at the same time. He laughed darkly, hand that was resting on your hip moving up to your breasts, finding a nipple and pinching hard. Your whole body shuddered with the biting pleasure it brought you, whimpering and moaning as he continued to touch you.

“Fuck, baby…” you whined, desperation in your voice, so overstimulated you couldn’t help but continue to cry.

“Yeah that’s it, good job doll, just like that…” Your pussy fluttered and he groaned, hand leaving your chest momentarily to run through his long hair, glancing down at your cunt. “So fucking pretty. You like it when I pleasure you like this, don’t you? When I keep going until you can’t walk or speak or think, when you can’t help but do anything but cum around my fingers…” Another whimper, his expert fingers return to your body, this time falling to brush over your clit, and you shuddered. “Oh God doll, you’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel it.. I can see it, the way you’re dripping around me… That’s it good girl, come for me…” You lost count of the number of times he had brought you to this point tonight, but it was better every single time. You practically screamed as the white hot ecstasy took over you, all the nerves in your body on fire as it washed through every last inch of you. It was heavenly.

It took a lifetime to finally feel like you were back in your body again. He had finally stopped, and you blinked your eyes open carefully to see him licking his metallic fingers clean. You wanted to moan, or whine, or just tell him how hot he looked, how satisfied you were, how good you felt, anything, but you couldn’t talk. You could just smile lazily, gazing at him as he scooped you up gently.

“Let’s get you to bed, doll. You did so good.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as you reached to bedroom, and he laid you down carefully. You were still shaking, your face wet from tears, and your eyes could barely stay open. You just let him kiss you and clean you up, eventually shuffling into bed with you and pulling you close.

“Thank you baby…” You finally managed to gasp out as you were wrapped in his arms, head resting on his chest and listening to his heartbeat as his fingers found your hair, running through it gently.

“Anything for you.”

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #the winter soldier #marvel #overstim kink

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wenellyb · 14 days ago

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Has Stan ever said anything positive about Mackie? Not to be parasocial but i keep seeing people saying they like "stackie" and the actors doing interviews together etc and Mackie seems nice and uplifting but whenever Stan brings up Mackie he seems annoyed. He doesn't even bring up his work with Mackie like (tfatws) in a positive light, why do ppl always want to see them together lol

Anon!!!!!!!!!

Are you being serious or are you just testing me Anon😭😭😭???? Is this some kind of joke???

Sebastian is Anthony's biggest fan! Literally.

I'll give it to you, Sebastian Stan stans (no pun intended) always focus on what Anthony says about Seb and never about what Seb says about Anthony but come on: "whenever Stan brings up Mackie he seems annoyed" what next? Are you going to tell me Seb and Anthony hate Tom Holland ?

Has Sebastian ever said anything positive about Anthony???

HAS SEBASTIAN EVER SAID SOMETHING POSITIVE ABOUT ANTHONY???

This Sebastian???

This Sebastian ????

This Sebastian ???

Sebastian who told Anthony he loved him on the red carpet in the middle of an interview just because????

Sebastian who looks like he's physically incapable of taking a picture without Anthony standing next to him???

Sebastian who always picks Anthony when asked to choose his favorite moments/costars?

Sebastian who mentions Anthony Mackie any chance gets even when the question is totally unrelated?

Sebastian who called Anthony before a group interview to make sure he was joining because he didn't want to do the interview without Anthony, even though his other costars would be there?

Sebastian who turned a press tour interview into a couples therapy session because Anthony wasn't looking at him as much??

Anon, you're lucky there's a picture limit on Tumblr otherwise this post would have been 2 meters long!

#stackie #sebastian stan #anthony mackie #sam wilson #bucky barnes #best frienship in the business!!!

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mamayura · 4 months ago

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Adrien not knowing what he wants

Hot take about Werepapas, I guess:

I actually like that Adrien said "I don't know" when asked what he wants/ who he wants to go with at the end of "Werepapas"

Cause the people who had to learn and come around in this episode's conflict were the ADULTS, not Adrien.

Adrien has already said that he isn't alone, he's living with Nathalie,

and Milly, too, acknowledged right away that Adrien has known her for most of his life so for Adrien she should count as more much than just an employee by now.

And he has not been trying to hide it whatsoever from Nathalie how much she means to him and that he wants to keep living with her. Literally the first thing we see in the episode's present time is Adrien running to Nathalie for comfort when hes crying over his dead mom, but she's pulling back so he does too eventually.

Marinette as pretty much unrelated main character doesnt know about this when she enters the conflict. Hence why she can effectively bring about development in Nathalie by challenging her long-established mind set and dynamic with Adrien due to Marinette's perspective adding a new angle and shacking things up:

Nathalie's inner conflict is one of my favourite things about the episode (and needs its own post if I get around to it), but for the context of this post, yes, she was the one who needed to come around. Not Adrien. He was already there from the get-go as we can see by him repeating the hug he started the episode with. Just now, Nathalie hugged back:

It was nice seeing Marinette help Nathalie take on her role in the end because Nathalie did the same thing Marinette did in Illustrhater for example. Acting like and saying things that eventually made Adrien accept that they don't want to be with him because, duh, that's now interactions work.

That's why he initially didn't say that he wants to stay with Nathalie in Paris when asked in the end. Nathalie too made him feel like he has to accept that that won't be an option, so he knew he had to decide between his grandparents:

The same Grandparents who had to come around in the end, too, and allow for Adrien to stay with Nathalie in Paris, even though both pairs of Grandparents are still the ones to officially hold the legal custody of Adrien (which I'm glad about that they did it like this and didn't bullshit some reason for Nathalie to get custody cause the episode is right, Nathalie has NO right to Adrien's custody whatsoever. They went with a very reasonable way to resolve this)

Its the ADULTS who had to come around. Not Adrien. Adrien already made it clear all episode what he wanted. But because all involved adults declared the outcome he wanted as a non-option, well, he honestly says that he doesn't know what else he wants (who he wants to go with).

And I- I just really like that Adrien was taking the situation serious enough to say "I don't know". That was very mature of him. To not just go with SOMETHING or go on about how unfair the situation is. Cause it definitely was, but this is a very serious legal matter that COULDN'T stay unresolved. He's an orphaned minor currently living alone with a person who's said to neither be an option as his guardian nor does she herself treat it like an option. This day COULDN'T end without at least some kind of temporary solution where he would stay now. It just couldn't.

I LIKE that he didn't repeat his denied desire that was already known to everyone around and instead seriously thought about the options he had.

I like that he loves and respects Nathalie enough to be the one person amongst Emilie, Gabriel, and now Marinette, too, who left the decision to HER if she wants to take on the position of his new mother:

As much as he wants to be with her, Adrien was characterized to understand that this is a massive thing to ask of Nathalie. He knows he means alot to her too but Nathalie was, by all accounts, objectively forced into this:

But especially by Emilie (look, I know she was literally dying slowly and painfully, I'm not judging her for wanting Adrien to be loved and taken care of. But I gotta ackowlegde that Emilie put alot on Nathalie without giving her a choice first):

In that regard I can't fault Nathalie for not having acted on her motherly feelings for Adrien and Emilie's last wish earlier than s5 (but God DAMN Nathalie, there is a difference between not doing it and actively making everything so much fucking worse!).

Adrien is the one person in this who respected how much was asked of Nathalie, so when she continuously acted like she didn't wanted to take on the role, he respected that. But this also means that the person who's responsible for Adrien coming to this "wrong" conclusion was Nathalie. Not Adrien. He's only acting accordingly to her actions and words:

So I like that Marinette got to help her in the end, because this is passive development that's very relevant to Marinette's character too. Even if I wished the show would hold Marinette to the same standards since both in Adrinette and especially Ladynoir Adrien gets mostly blamed for coming to the logical conclusions that Maribug doesn't like him or being with him in any way doesn't mean much to her because that's how she constantly acts like in almost every conflict ever. Over and over again. So I like that it was done properly this time around even if it's obvious that that was only possible because it was Nathalie and not Marinette.

And yes, I totally get not liking that Marinette is taking over the whole moment again. I'm not much of a fan of it either, to put it nicely. But it is wrong to say that Marinette is the one making the decision here and Adrien had no agency in deciding who he's staying with. Marinette is merely repeating old news she knows are true because that's what Adrien has been saying and acting like the whole episode and even already since season 5.

The decision was long made by Adrien. It were the adults who had to come around.

And beyond that,

I LIKE that Adrien said "I don't know" to the question which grandparents he wants to go with instead of the show having him make it all about his friends, girlfriend, or Ladybug. He only brings that up when he gets to stay:

Cause the question of where he would feel more at home and what is best for his future, when he has to completely start anew, is not just about his current friends, girlfriend, or his secret hero partner (who has made every precaution and decision possible to not actually have or need him in her life and job and he was made to accept that fully because that's her "rightful professionalism" same as killing your bf Ig)

I like that it was "I don't know" instead of "but my friends!", "but my girlfriend!", or "but I can't leave!".

Adrien saying "I don't know" means he thought of himself first and foremost and not everyone else:

I even like that "I don't know" means that he took the Graham de Vanilys into consideration despite how awful Emil was. Cause when the outcome Adrien WANTED (keeping his life in Paris by living with Nathalie) isn't an option, then he's perfectly in his right to not write off the possibilities he has with the Graham de Vanilys in London (and good heavens, I'm glad nothing ever brought up "but Chloé is in London! YIKES!").

I like that Adrien didnt write anything off when the decision was possibly about to change his whole future. Yes, saying "I dont know what I want" is a perfectly valid and even mature answer for a 14 year old orphan to give when they were JUST this day confronted with this situation that denied him the option he actually wanted:

And I also like that Marinette in the end didn't wasnt made to make Adrien's answer about herself in an usual moment of panic (in general, I truly LOVED how supportive Marinette was in Werepapas, even if the akuma battle incident is forever burnt in my love square heart in a very negative way. Yes, I think being willing to kill your boyfriend without trying any other solution first is bad, sue me ig. if that's what I'll be judged for, then I can live with it).

It is a far cry from Marinette in Representation for example being mostly written to make not getting to have her boyfriend near her out to be the biggest tragedy of Adrien being send to another country for good. I'm glad she got to be the supportive girlfriend for once instead of the show forcibly trying to falsely make her out to be the most important person affected by Adrien's tragic life. It was so refreshing and wonderful to watch Marinette getting to be in the lovingly supporting role of the relationship for a change, and it does WONDERS for her characterization.

While, of course, Marinette was motivated all episode to help Adrien not having to leave, when Adrien said "I don't know" Marinette knew that he's only taking the other options this seriously now because he can't have the option he actually wants.

She wasn't written to go into panic mode the second she heard Adrien NOT saying that staying in Paris is the most important thing on his mind. She knew the problem was laying elsewhere, even if I wished she hadnt made it abuut the Grandparents, but Adrien's right to CHOOSE (and yes, I'm fully aware that people will write this whole post off as salt because I didnt ignore or handwave away Marinette's consistent CANON characterization, even though that's not how salt works. I stand to what I said. More of Marinette as supportive girlfriend please, then we wouldnt have these problems)

I don't know how to end this with a nice little bow to wrap it up. I just REALLY like that Adrien said "I don't know", and how the episode treated the custody conflict for 95% of the plot which is very good for Miraculous.

#ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #ml season 6 #ml werepapas #adrien agreste #nathalie sancoeur #Adrien and Nathalie #Marinette got some wondeful characterization in this episode #Please dont believe I dont think thats true #but because I know her fans #Marinette critical #to be sure #Cause I didnt wanted to talk about his whole situation and Marinettes involvement #While not stating my opinion on how Marinettes OVERALL writing in the show so far plays into this #Shes the main character and I'll treat her like it #There was so much AMAZING Marinette characterization in this episode due to her being in the supporting role for once #and that does wonders for her character #I just dont see how keeping quiet about her overall relevant writing has any use

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viennakarma · 5 months ago

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prob just a blurb but jenson with a hot young gf <3 others keep teasing him that she’s too hot for him but he takes it all in stride and is like believe me i know🫡 and is generally rly secure (and sexy!) about it. he doesn’t mind others checking her out bc he loves having a baddie gf. very much “wear whatever u want i can fight” energy 😭

Tags: jenson button blurb, smut, f!reader, age gap, p in v

Jenson knew how it’d be when he brought you the first time to a race. Luckily, he was not a racing driver anymore and only had duties with pre race coverage and post race interviews of the podium drivers.

He always knew it’d be trouble whenever he had the opportunity to take you to his work. And he knew it’d be even greater trouble, pretty little thing like you the morning of the race day as you got out of the hotel room in a little pleated miniskirt. But Jenson wasn’t about to ask you to change, no, he wasn’t that kind of guy.

So when you got to the track, his hand in yours as you happily pointed spots and asked questions, Jenson only ground his teeth as he noticed the other men looking at you.

He obviously felt a bit jealous but it never led him to feel insecure, quite the opposite, it made him feel possessive, wanting you even more. That’s why he ended up sneaking you into a meeting room mid race, bunching your skirt up around your waist, panties tugged to the side as he fucked into your tight warm cunt, a hand on your mouth to silence your moans and little mewls, as he repeated how much he loved your slutty little skirt, asking you if you had dressed like that for him, nipping at your neck and lobe, until you were cumming around his cock, and he kept going, unrelenting as he wrung another orgasm before pumping you full of cum.

After he pulled out and you two got dressed again, fixing your disheveled appearance, he smirked as he guided you back out, a deep satisfaction knowing you were walking around full of him, dripping in your panties.

now crowd how do we feel? 🎤🎤🎤

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fic talk #ask rae #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #jenson button x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button #jb22

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ch3rrybbie · 5 months ago

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Messy (part 2 of please please please)

Summary: he’s back like a cat with a dead bird.

Warnings: smut, p in v, no protection, oral fem rec. , dead body, blood, ominous end?

Note from the author: based it off the song by Lola young (loosely) mainly bc he is too messy but when he relates to the song it’s bc he’s pathetic yet dangerous lol idk if that makes sense.

———

Gore, blood and sweat enveloped him.

He heaves out heavy breaths, eyes unrelenting from yours.

Unconsciously your feet carried you back from him.

Had he looked this way at whoever’s blood was on him?

“Come. Here” he punctuated. The emblematic flag of freedom swinging behind him like a grotesque red flag.

Eyes scanning his face for danger, you relent tenderly walking towards him.

His gloves creak as they stretch to soothe your fearful face.

You’d seen the posts come through live on social media, Vought news smothering all reports of his rampage.

“I had to do that baby” he whispers nodding in self assurance.

When your expression didn’t soften from your apprehension he started to do his typical ranting.

A string of false preaching to bring you to his side.

“I mean they were going to take you away from me when I told then what you wanted and i will never let that happen. I would’ve done that a thousand times over, I will do it a thousand times over”. he’s left grasping at breath passion makes his eyes wild his hair is drooping into his face.

He looks villainous.

You cant help but reach up and smooth it back, “what have you done?” a voice drips out shaky and unrecognisable.

Cold breeze breaks your attention as the soft cotton curtains beckon you. Moving to grasp them you are breathless at the sight before you.

Dumped on the balcony is Stormfront, eyes gone with ragged laser marks across her face and body.

His body is marble behind you when you step back in shock. Toned hard planes keeping you upright. Kissing your cheek sweetly he grips your hand and guides you out, eventually dragging you over the threshold into the biting air.

It was his idea of some sick sort of wedding gift, an I am yours for ever and ever gift, a fate sealing bauble. And like a cat that got the cream he beams at you, face nuzzling into your beating neck.

“I love you” he sighs.

In the distance a sirens race towards the destruction he’d left. A promotion board with him and stormfront is almost unrecognisable, stormfronts picture is hanging above the shocked civilians.

His image grins down proud.

———

You’d been unable to speak and he barely batted an eyelid.

Shuffling around making you food and coffee. Keeping you no further than his eyesight. He was finally yours.

But did you want that?

He was even still covered in her blood. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Fat hot tears slip down your face in whispers and he rushes from the stove to grasp you like you’d disappear.

Confused he pleads, “what’s wrong tell me i’ll sort it baby”.

Still in shock you finally let your looping thoughts fly free at him.

“You killed her”.

He sours.

“No,no,no” his finger wags in your face

“You asked me to kill her my love”

You breathe in sharply, you did ask him. He obeyed you, and not so deep down you wanted that.

Needed that proof of loyalty.

Once trembling and begging before you he now stands over you.

Worshipper victorious. He had sacrificed for you, he would always sacrifice for you.

“Let me take care of you baby” he smooths at you slick as silk, he kisses you softly but you knew hunger bludgeoned in him.

———

Food forgotten and probably burning he pulls you into the bathroom. Gently pulling clothes from you he smoothes his hands over your soft skin. Looking at you like you’re a marvel. A mere mortal that swayed his heart, perhaps you were a marvel.

You settled under the warmth of the shower attempting to breathe through the images of stormfronts ragdolled body on your balcony.

His sudden heavy presence behind you brings you back and you lean in to him letting him ground you. His skin is hot under the burning water. Steam perfumes the space between you and you feel his hardened cock bob and nudge into you. He grips your hips to him, but you couldn’t fuck him covered in blood.

Covered in your commands, your vicious dog. Turning to look up at him you begin to wash the blood off him, an iron tang hits your senses. He smirks down at you knowingly.

Arousal and blood.

You can’t help but let him kiss you, all teeth and tongue. Blood be dammed.

He kneels devoted, parts you legs desperate to taste you, he is unrelenting and messy when he kisses your aching pussy. You drip with desire, a string of wanton moans music to his ears and he begins to moan back into you. Drawing back he looks up at you, bloodied face, mused hair and swollen lips. He relishes in your shocked face as he pushes two of his fingers in, knuckle deep. His hair is gripped in a silent command for more and you wrench him back up to you.

Fervent desire sets your senses alight the salty water spray and copper tang of his bloodied lips envelop you. He pushes into you and the burn is delicious. A wet cacophony of thwacks and groans accompany his pursuit of your pleasure. Suddenly you are up against the cold tiled wall and you nipples pebble at the temperature change. The new angle means his relentless fucking into your sopping cunt hits the most perfect spots and the sheer size of him brings a pleasurable pain.

He is stoic. Looking down through wet hair and bloodied trails he grins and reaches down to harshly rub your clit. Letting your nails dig into his taught back you release around him. Fingers and toes curling and tingling you are out of your body as you violently clench down on his twitching cock, pulling him in. He comes in hot spurts lining your spasming walls.

You are satiated. For now.

He gently lowers you and peppers you with kisses, pushing your hair from your face.

“I love you” he asserts

“I know” is all you can return.

He finishes washing you and escorts you to bed, all thoughts of the burnt food and stormfronts corpse vanquished.

You can’t help but think about how calm and quiet he seems as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

You don’t see him rise and clear away the burnt food and stormfronts corpse.

You don’t see him slip back into bed and whisper promises of your new life together.

You didn’t see the messages from Ashley about the missing compound V and his foolish plan.

———

TAG LIST: @melody-deathnote

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starlight-bread-blog · 2 years ago

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Why Stolas is a Terrible Person/Character

Oh this will be long. In this post I will cover why Stolas is a character that fundamentally fails at everything it tries to accomplish. I probably have to say that you can love Stolas. That's just why I hate him.

Trigger warnings for: Racism, casteism, power dynamics, sexual assault, sa apologism, abuse, and neglectful parenting. A lot, I know, but that's Stolas.

His Actions in S1

Despite the title, there will be two examples from season 2.

Racism/Casteist

Stolas is from the upper caste, a royal. He seem to often fetishize imps, or the fact that he's sleeping with someone who's less than him. I even saw fans pointing this out. He has empathized Blitzø being an imp in a sexual context.

(Notice the use of words: "little", "plaything", to me this is blatant racism and fetishism).

He also showed a certain lack of empathy for his imp butler.

Stolas isn't particularly violent, he doesn't choke people left and right. He's just angry, at Stella, so he decides to.. choke the imp.

Stolas has been dehumanizimg imps. Fetishizing an imp for being an imp, calling him an "impish little plaything", and he has been willing to choke an imp just because he was angry at something unrelated. He's racist and casteist.

Treatment of Blitzø

"Treatment" is putting it lightly. In the first episode, Stolas does something inexcusable that will taint their dynamic for all of season 1. First, he sees Blitzø in a vulnerable position, where he cannot think or negotiate. Thus, stripping him of what little choice he has on what he's about to offer.

What Stolas is saying is, "Fuck me or I'll shut down your business". This deal he makes is just a threat with extra steps. Which is a real life abuse tactic called Quid Pro Quo:

"Quid pro quo harassment occurs when someone in a position of authority over another directly or indirectly demands sexual favors in exchange for some benefit, or to avoid some detriment in the workplace".

One element I haven't brought up yet, is the political power imbalance. Stolas is royalty, one with a lot of power, influence, credibility, etc. Blitzø has non of that. Other characters have commented on that the fact that Blitzø even has a business is a miracle.

There are so many layers of imbalance and how Blitzø has no choice or agency. A royal is """offering""" the powerless a Quid Pro Quo while he's in a life threatening situation.

And their dynamic looks exactly like you'd imagine. Stolas consistently sexualizes him against his consent. (As it's been established, Stolas's racism feeds into this). And refuses to do the surface level courtesy, not even calling him his real name (x).

Stolas treats Blitzø as a lesser being, violates his boundries, forces himself on him, and strips him of all autonomy.

Faliure as a Father

Stolas's role as a father is directly tackled in Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars. At the beginning, both episodes show Stolas being a good father to Octavia, but does this still hold true in the currect day? Well, no.

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas wants to take Octavia to a theme park. Octavia is 17, and Stolas ignores her when she says she doesn't want to go. (In retrospect, Stolas could be oblivious because he's projecting his experience meeting Blitzø onto Via).

But that's just the start. Stolas then invites Blitzø to the trip and harasses with him all throughout. Essentially, Stolas is forcing his daughter to watch as he harasses "the homewrecker", all the while he's supposed to be with her, on a trip she didn't even want to go to.

After a whole day of this, as expected, Octavia runs away. Stolas chases her. (And of course, he's still thinking of Blitzø on his way to find Via). There's an apology scene that looks deep, but when you dissect it, it's rather empty.

Stolas never actually provided an explanation as to why he just did what he did, nor of the "drama" with Stella. There is nothing here. Octavia only makes up with him because he said he isn't gonna leave her. Which is bare minimum.

After he realizes that his affair hurts his daughter to the point where she feared he's gonna leave her, what does he do? What practical actions does he take to improve? Divorce Stella? Cut off his deal with Blitzø? Explaine the situation?

Nothing. And now we see he's willing to stand up on a stage and let people know.

In Seeing Stars, Stolas bashes Via's mother to her. Which, does she know about their situation? Does she not? She isn't shown to hate or.. anything Stella. Is he hiding the situation (which I'll cover), while also trashing her mother? That's impulsive and negligent.

But that's nothing. She later runs away, Stolas is stressed as he should be, but the second they arravie on earth he's all calm and everything's normal.

When his daughter is missing. When he is shown to be stressed, it's for the sake of plot. But he's willing to just chill, watching Blitzø's show.

Stolas is, dare I say it, neglectful. He might care about his daughter, but he's proven that she's not enough of a priority to focus on her when it matters.

Cheating

Yes, I know what ended up being revealed, I'll cover that. In season 1, the relationship is presented to not be perfect before Stolas cheated.

But there were instances that showed that what Stolas did changed their relationship for the worse. (Some additional rebuttals).

It could have been a loveless marrige, they could have fallen out of love, they could have been arranged. But their relationship was manageable. Love or no love, it's a committed relationship. and Stella didn't deserve to get cheated on.

Who was Stolas?

Stolas's behavior is common among royals. Stella has no problem throwing said butler at Stolas (S1 E2), and the Goetias are shown to be casteist. They're untouchable privileged assholes.

Stolas was born that wealth, never having to suffer the consequences of his actions. Always putting himself first, hurting others. He doesn't mean to, he wants for everyone to be happy, he does care.

However, when it actually matters, he acts on his worst tendecises with no self control. He never had to learn self control. That is, until Ozzie's.

Before Ozzie, Blitzø and Stolas are at obligation. Stolas's actions had tainted them. There was one redeemable moment: He saved Blitzø's life. Stolas did something for him. But this one act of goodness doesn't magically fix everything.

Stolas's family life have been escalating. Stella hated Stolas for cheating and his daughter just had to take it. In Loo Loo Land, he learns the full weight of the damage he caused. And in the next episode we see him, he proceeds to take no steps to improve the situation. In the end of that same episode, we learn that Stella hired an assasin after him. Because he did nothing.

The season 1 finale, Ozzie's, is aware of all of this and absolutely delivers.

The episode starts with seeing Stolas alone, in his big house, miserable. It appears that Stella finally left the house. (Also he later says "Octavia is with her mother this weekend"). He's eating a bowl of cereal, pitying himself, wallowing in his despair. You feel bad for him, he looks so torn down.

And then Blitzø calls. The one he loves, asks him on a serious date. It's hope, it's honest, and it's exactly what he wanted. It's almost as if the universe handed him is fairytale scenario.

Almost. Reality smacks him right in the face on that date. Asmodeus calls him out on losing everything he had. He had a family, a happy daughter, but gave it all up for an affair.

Blitzø calls him out on treating him like a pet, not earning any of that emotional connection he wants or even communicating it, just violating him, they have nothing.

The show held him accountable and called him out. While it's not perfect, Stolas is a morally grey character. Now, a character arc was set up where he learns to treat people better. Stolas is exactly the character I want to see from a show like Helluva Boss. He's a horrible person, but nuanced, who does care.

Season 2

Yeah... all of that is thrown out the window. Because apparently, Stolas is just imperfect. He simply made a lot of mistakes. He misread a lot of situations, really it's all just an accident. He's an oblivious victim. So, let's get into the woobification of Stolas.

Surrounded by Evil

In The Circus we're given Stolas's ✨️backstory✨️. And we find out he had such a terrible life.

Stella is, and always was, an abusive evil bitch. From the day she was born. Pure evil.

So you see, Stolas did nothing wrong. Let me be clear, you are not obligated to stay loyal to your abuser. We can erase "cheater" off the list. But that's the only reason why it's done. So we can erase that off the list, and that we could feel oh-so-sad for him.

Because Stella isn't written to be an abuser. She's a cartoonishly evil. We see a picture of her as a kid where she's the same person. Spongebob villians have more depth than her, you know, the abuser in the adult show.

Helluva Boss reversed an established dynamic where Stella is the victim and Stolas is at fault, except without any of the depth or nuance.

But that's not all. Stolas's dad (Paimon) is also neglectful. By "neglectful" I mean, of course, a Saturday-morning cartoon villain.

youtube

He doesn't remember his name. This is such bullshit. I can buy Stolas having a horrible father. It's also not bad to show Stolas's trauma. What is bad is that the subject matter is handled with less seriousness as the fish fight in Spring Broken. And Helluva Boss did write Crimson as a serious abuser, while the episode still had comedy, but not Paimon.

The reason why all of this is happening, is so we could feel bad for Stolas. They do zero of the work to earn a good story about abuse, but still go "Do you see how sad he is? Look at how they're treating this poor baby!!"

"Recontextualization"

In said ✨️backstory✨️, we also learn that Stolas and Blitzø are childhood friends. But also not really, they just hung out for one day. Where did this come from? How does this enrich the characters? I would tell you, but I don't know. However, what I'm sure of, is that it's done to make Stolas look less problematic.

DO YOU SEE HOW CUT THIS IS? He isn't just horny for that imp, he is special, it's absoultly pure! Don't worry, totally safe.

Later in the flashback, we see how Blitzø and Stolas reconnected after over 20 years. Apparently... Blitzø was the one who sexually manipulated Stolas, selling him that he wants him.

All Stolas did was just buying into Blitzø's narrative he was imposed on. It's a role he leaned into, because he thought Blitzø liked it. I.. WHAT???

If this horseshit is true, why did he make this weird r*pe deal with Blitzø? If Blitzø was the one who acted like he's interested at first, and he was sexually exploiting him, why did he lash out at Stolas in Ozzie's? Did it just hold no weight for Stolas? It went from "Don't pretend to have something when you've been harassing me this whole time" to "You misunderstood".

The Stolitz backstory makes no sense, it's cheap, and fixes nothing. No matter what the story is trying to sell, in season 1 Stolas knew what's happening enough to try to force it. And maybe Stolas wanted Blitzø because of a connection, but he still harassed, dehumanized and violated him.

Note: Stolas realizing "he imagined the relationship" is completely ignored one episode later in Seeing Stars. This is a huge deal, didn't he learn? Just further evidence that he's willing to violate the guy. (x)

Before this backstory, we had a story of a selfish man hurting the person he loves while explointing the broken system and the power that he has over him for his own selfish desires that he's forcing on him. Now, we have the same thing, but with fanfic tropes – and the story refuses to confront that.

Casteism is Brushed Off

Helluva Boss pretends that Stolas isn't racist, because he didn't want Blitzø for being an imp, but for being his fanfic trope childhood friend. Which fails to address the disgusting fetishism of Blitzø for being an imp, and he also continued to dehumanize his imp butler in Seeing Stars. He's still racist.

Imperfect Father

In The Circus, Stolas devivers this line: "The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty, was for that girl to have a normal life".

Sounds impressive, he stayed all these years just for his daughter. But that's the thing – it sounds impressive. Every time their relationship is the focus, Stolas is being the scum of the earth. What I see here, is a person. A person who despite being willing to stay passive, acts on his his selfish wants, forgetting to look around him. Mind you, this fact is also being revealed one episode after Ozzie's.

But no, one episode later, in Seeing Stars – that was covered as a prime example of everything I just descriped – Loona says this:

Yeah. He's just a good father "trying" his "best" and makes some... "mistakes". The Circus did present Stolas as this, but Seeing Stars really solidified how his parenting will be handled moving forward. And I think it's comlete and utter dogshit.

Damsel in Distress

The title is a bit misleading. This section is mainly about Stolas's power being toned down. Both magical and in presentation.

In season 1, he was energetic and enthusiastic, while being able to set his foot down and intimidate when needed. He's still all of those things, but in some instances his characterization made my raise an eyebrow.

In Seeing Stars, he's being weirdly gentle with people kidnapping Blitzø and are later beatting him.

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In Oops, he's excited to start negotiating with literal kidnappers. I have no idea why he's so nice.

(He did harass Blitzø again in Seeing Stars and bashed Striker, all of which isn't soft, but it's also the two moments where he should have shut up).

Further more, both of these conflict rely on Stolas not using his powers for some reason or another. Why didn't he just do whatever he did in Truth Seekers to track Fizz/Via?

About Via, I'm gonna have to call bullshit on the "My powers are limited on earth" nonsense because, for starters, kid Stolas is shown to remember the contents of his books and now he's been studying them for years. And two,

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There is no excuse for Stolas to not use his powers and whenever the show says otherwise it's bullshitting its way out of it.

Even in Western Energy, before Stolas gets captured he was just aimlessly going in and out of his demon form. Why didn't he turn him into stone like he did in Loo Loo Land?

Stolas has been presented as weaker than he is. He's made to look more vulnerable, less "above it all". He was untouchable, and when he wasn't, it had a harder impact and made sense. Now, I almost forgot he's a powerful demon.

And his characterization is at the core of this issue. At times he's just so kind and gentle with people who should get smacked in their heads.

What about Ozzie's

The big clash, the one that called Stolas out on everything, the one that set him on a genuine path to grow, what about it? How is it addressed while the show tries to pretend he's a good person?

No, not the message Stolas is looking at, the ones in the background he just scrolled through.

I'm not breaking this down. I refuse. The only reason I put it here is to show how fast it goes. I'm not touching that.

Who is Stolas

Stolas is a moral scapegoat – "a character that is bad, but the book/movie/show portrays them as good". It's characterized by the story twisting itself to make one character look good.

Stolas didn't start out as one, but became one over one season premire and it just kept escalating from there.

Helluva Boss takes place in Hell. A horrible place filled with horrible people, the root of all evil. Stolas fits right in there. He was already problematic, awful, and fed into Helll's broken system. Why trying to cover up his faults? It's Hell, and it was great. But now, we're supposed to pretend he's just flawed.

With the show actively ignoring everything he did, what's left for him? What does he have to learn? How will he grow as a person? How will he improve? What's his character arc? It's nothing. Because everything that happens to him isn't his fault, and at times could just be solved with one conversation.

#Youtube #helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #anti helluva boss #anti stolas #stolas critical #anti stolitz #stolitz critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #anti vivziepop #vivziepop critique #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse critique #anti spindlehorse #spindlehorse criticism #spindlehorse toons critical

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sodavizz · 6 months ago

Text

—(I can't think of a title)

W/C: Idk 1k+

Pairing: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: nune.

A/N: MY POOKIE GAVE ME A PROMPT SO I WROTE IT,, SAW @freakyydaisukee POST, LUCKY I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THIS LOL.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Daisuke had always been one to find excitement in everything. Whether it was the smallest detail of a passing cloud or the newest trend everyone at school was trying to follow, he could always find something to be enthusiastic about. It was just who he was. And it was something that people admired about him—his unrelenting optimism, his constant enthusiasm for life.

But of all the things Daisuke had ever been excited about, there was one person who stood out from the rest.

You.

From the moment he first laid eyes on you in the hallway of their high school, he knew there was something special about you. You weren't like everyone else.. Daisuke admired everything about you. You were pretty smart, funny, made a few friends, and were pretty attractive too. It made Daisuke feel like he could conquer anything, just because he’d seen you smile.

As the years went by, Daisuke found himself drawn to you more and more. He would always try to sit near you in class, though he never had the courage to speak to you outside of group projects or class assignments. His friends always teased him about it, but he didn’t mind. They didn’t understand. His feelings for you weren’t something as simple as a crush—they were a quiet, constant thing that swelled within him each time he saw you.

He would watch you interact with your friends, and he’d wonder if you noticed him at all. Did you know how much he admired you? Did you ever catch his gaze from across the room? Did you ever wonder why he always had that excited smile on his face whenever you were around?

But Daisuke was terrified. High school was the time when everyone was either figuring out who they were or hiding who they were, and Daisuke knew that his feelings for you were something he couldn’t quite put into words. What if he confessed and ruined everything? What if you didn’t feel the same?

So he kept quiet. For years.

And every time he saw you leave school with your friends, he felt his heart sink, knowing that his chance might be slipping away.

Graduation came faster than Daisuke had expected. It was a bittersweet moment for him. Everyone was so excited about what came next, about the future that awaited them. He’d felt the same way, once, but now it just felt hollow. The future was full of uncertainty for Daisuke. Sure, he was going to follow in his parents' footsteps and become a mechanic—just like they wanted. But it wasn’t the future that excited him. The future that excited him was the one where he could finally tell you how he felt.

But that opportunity never came. Graduation was a blur of ceremonies, farewell parties, and promises to stay in touch. And you—well, you were already gone. You had plans. Your future seemed set. And Daisuke was left wondering if he would ever get the chance to confess his feelings to you, or if you would just fade into the background of his life like so many people did.

He didn’t know what happened to you after graduation. You disappeared into the vast world, as far as he was concerned. And as time passed, Daisuke told himself that he needed to move on. He needed to focus on his job, on making his parents proud. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to have a grand love story, after all.

Two years later, Daisuke found himself on the Tulpar—a spaceship that was about to embark on a long-term mission to ship whatever was in the boxes they couldn't touch or see. His parents looked for a while to find a job that he could do, and when the opportunity to work on a high-end spaceship as a mechanic opened up, they nudged him toward it. He wasn’t exactly thrilled, but he figured it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t the adventure he’d hoped for, but it was steady work. And steady work meant stability.

The day of the ship's space launch. He was accepted last minute as an intern but he could care less. He was pretty nervous though, the thought of being in the middle of space for a year is kinda scary for him.

He was just minding his own business before someone crept up to him.

"O-M-G!!," The person exclaimed.

Daisuke froze mid-sentence as he turned toward the voice. His heart skipped a beat.

Standing there, in her flight suit with a clipboard in hand, was you.

It took him a second to process. You. You were standing right in front of him. His mind spun with disbelief and excitement.

"Wait—what?" he blurted out, still in shock.

You raised an eyebrow at him, half-smiling, but there was something about it that felt more genuine, more knowing. "Surprised? Anyways, how have you been... uh... Daisuke correct? We went to the same high school together!" you say excitedly.

"You—you're... you're planning on working on the Tulpar too?" Daisuke asked, the words tumbling out.

You nodded, your eyes scanning the room before they landed back on him. "Yeah. I didn’t know you were here too."

Daisuke's excitement was barely contained. After all these years of admiring you from afar, here you were. In the flesh. On the same ship. And now he had a chance to talk to you—really talk to you.

“I—yeah, I’ve been here for a while.” Daisuke couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s... kind of crazy that we’re both here. You know? I always wondered what happened to you after graduation. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

You smiled softly at that. “I guess we both ended up on the same path, huh?”

He nodded, though his brain was still struggling to keep up. You—here, on the Tulpar, working alongside him. It felt like a dream.

“I never thought I’d be working on a spaceship,” you continued, leaning against the wall as you casually chatted. “I didn’t even think you would, either. But... here we are.”

For the first time in years, Daisuke allowed himself to feel the weight of his excitement. There was a universe of possibilities in front of him now. You were here, and maybe—just maybe—he could find a way to confess the feelings he’d kept hidden for so long.

“So... what do you think of the ship so far?” he asked, trying to regain his composure.

You laughed lightly. "It's impressive. But I'm sure you've seen much more than I have. You've been here longer."

“Yeah,” Daisuke said, a gleam in his eye. “But if you want, we could look around together. Maybe help you an I get more comfortable?”

You smiled again, this time in that quiet way that always made Daisuke’s heart race. “I’d like that.”

As the days passed, Daisuke found himself spending more and more time with you. He was thrilled to just be near you, but this time, he didn’t have to hide behind the walls he’d built in high school. He could be himself, and you were there to see it. Slowly, Daisuke began to open up, sharing stories, laughing together, and finding joy in the little moments. And all the while, his feelings for you grew stronger, more real.

Maybe, just maybe, the universe had led him to this moment for a reason.

One evening, after a long shift, Daisuke found you just sitting in the couch, the dim lights of the ship casting a soft glow on your face.

"Hey," he said softly, walking up to you. His heart pounded. He didn’t know if he’d ever have the courage to say it, but right now, in this quiet moment, he felt like he could.

“Hey, Daisuke.” You smiled up at him, looking tired but content.

"Look... I don't know how to say this, but I've wanted to say it for a long time. I—" His voice cracked slightly as he struggled to find the words.

You watched him intently, your expression calm, understanding. "What is it?"

"I think... I think I’ve liked you for a long time. Ever since high school," Daisuke blurted out, his face turning red as he stumbled over the words. "I don’t know why I never told you, but... I think I just... really like you."

For a moment, there was silence. Daisuke’s heart raced, waiting for your response, unsure of what would come next.

You stepped closer, your smile widening. “Hehe... I’ve always known,” you said softly with a cheeky grin, and Daisuke’s heart nearly stopped.

“I’m glad you’re here, Daisuke,” you continued, taking his hand in yours. “I’m glad we’re both here.”

And with that, in the endless stretch of space, surrounded by stars, Daisuke realized that sometimes, life’s most beautiful surprises came when you least expected them.

#Spotify #[★—sodavizz]#mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing fanfic #uwu

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yuujispunches · 9 days ago

Text

Things we lost, things we found ~ Y.O.

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

Summary: When Yuta left for Africa he took part of your heart along with him then Shibuya tore the remains into pieces. Will you be able to pick up the pieces or is it beyond repair?

CW (content warning): angst, mentions of death, grief, PTSD, mentions of abandonment, mentions of injuries, some cursing.

AN (author’s note): Hi guys! This took me ages to write and I thought about completely ditching it but I’m actually kind of happy with how it turned out at the end. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this in my phone so I’m sorry if there’re any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You didn’t cry when he left.

You were proud of that, in a way. You didn’t let him see the way your hands trembled behind your back as he slung his bag over his shoulder. You didn’t let the heartbreak show when he made promises that he wouldn’t keep.

“I’ll write as often as I can.” You forced a smile because you knew he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to, but because Yuta Okkotsu never did anything halfway.

If he was going to Africa, to help others, to grow stronger, to get better,he would disappear into it. That was who he was.

You loved that about him almost as much as you hated that about him.

The platform was cold under your feet that day, cold enough to seep into your bones, but you stood tall, lifting your chin as he smiled that nervous smile of his. You could still remember the way he looked at you: gentle, as if you were made of something precious. You felt like maybe that was what hurt the most.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He had promised again.

“Promise me.” You pleaded.

He kissed you. It tasted like lies and hope.

——————————————————————————

The days turned into weeks. The weeks bled into months.

The world didn’t wait.

The Shibuya Incident struck like lightning, sudden and catastrophic, and all you could do was hold your ground in the aftermath. Blood soaked the streets. Friends died. You lost so much in such a short time, and he wasn’t there.

You told yourself that it was better that way. That if he had been there, maybe he would’ve been one of the ones who didn’t make it. Maybe you would have lost him, too.

But grief didn’t work like that. There was no room in your chest for maybes. Only the sharp, unrelenting pressure of loss.

When you heard he’d come back, you didn’t believe it at first. Not until you saw him again, standing in the ruins of what used to be your world, you didn’t cry then, either.

You didn’t hug him. You didn’t smile.

You just turned around and walked away.

——————————————————————————

He found you again two days later. You weren’t hiding. Not really. You still worked with the others, patrolled Tokyo, helped patch together the fractured society the jujutsu world had become. There wasn’t time to mourn. Just time to survive.

But that day, you were alone on a rooftop, watching the sunset over the ruins. Smoke curled from far-off buildings. The skyline looked jagged now, broken and unfamiliar.

“Hey.” Came his voice, soft but too close as if had been carried by the wind. Like he didn’t know how far away he should stand anymore.

You didn’t turn around.

“I know what happened in Shibuya.” He said. “I heard about Nanami. About Nobara…” He trailed off, like he didn’t know whether to say more or shut up forever. You still didn’t move.

“You weren’t here.” Was all you said. Your voice was quiet, like a secret you’d only just realized you’d been holding.

There was a beat of silence. “I know.”

“You said you’d write.” This time it came out bitter, and you hated yourself for it.

“I tried.” He said quickly. “I wrote so many times. They just… there was a lot of interference. Some never got sent.”

“So none of them got here?”

Another silence. He didn’t lie. “I don’t know.”

You turned slowly to look at him. His eyes were wide and open, still kind. Too kind. Like he hadn’t learned to guard them yet.

“You missed everything.” You said, the words falling from your mouth like bricks. “You missed everything, Yuta.”

He flinched. You should’ve felt bad, you wanted to regret it but all you felt was emptiness.

“I know.” He said again, and this time it made you want to scream. “I- I would’ve come back if I’d known sooner. But I was completely cut off. They kept me away. For training. For control. I didn’t even know about Shibuya until-”

“I don’t care.” Your voice cracked. “I really don’t care, Yuta. That doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t here. That you left.”

You expected him to be angry. You almost wanted him to be. It would’ve made it easier.

But he wasn’t. His face just crumpled into something sad, and you realized, with a pang, that he was hurting too.

“I left because I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” He whispered. “I was still so scared of what happened to Rika repeating all over again, scared I’d lose control. That I’d lose you.”

“You lost me anyway.” Your words were like venom.

That did it. That made him step back, just a little. Like your words had finally landed.

You swallowed thickly. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. It even scared yourself, you had never been like this, never bitter, never harsh no matter how hurt or mad you were but ever since you stepped on that station…

You didn’t even recognise yourself anymore and it terrified you like nothing else ever had.

“I can’t do this.” You said, turning back to the skyline. “Not now.”

He stood behind you for a long time. You could feel him there, his presence was impossible to ignore. Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke again.

“I’ll wait.” He said quietly. “As long as it takes.”

You closed your eyes. “You should stop making promises you can’t keep.” After that all that was left was silence.

——————————————————————————

You did your best to avoid him after that.

He didn’t push. Not much, anyway. But he was everywhere, as if Tokyo had become smaller now that he was back. He would sit across the room during meetings. Sometimes you’d find small things like your favorite energy drink in the break room fridge or a packet of your preferred instant noodles stocked among the supplies.

You never said thank you. But you stopped pretending you didn’t notice.

The ache didn’t go away. If anything, it grew sharper with time. Until one night, you found yourself walking back toward your old apartment. The one you used to share. It was supposed to be just a safe house for a mission that Gojo somehow had let you keep and the two of you ended up turning into a makeshift home away from all the noise and pressure at the school.

It was still there. Untouched, somehow spared during the worst of the destruction. You stood outside the door for ten minutes before you found the nerve to unlock it.

The air inside was stale and heavy with dust, but everything was just as you remembered it. The couch you used to curl up on together. The crooked picture frame he could never quite get to stay straight. The blanket Rika once tore in half during a tantrum, the one that had been stitched clumsily back together with your hands and his after that.

You sat down slowly, the silence swallowing you.

And for the first time in over a year, you cried.

——————————————————————————

The next time you saw him, it was raining.

Not a storm, just a steady, soaking drizzle that clung to the skin and seeped into the bones. The kind of rain that made the city smell like metal and ash, like memories you tried to bury.

You were coming off a solo patrol near the outskirts of the 7th district, still shaking off residual cursed energy when you turned the corner and there he was.

Standing alone. No umbrella. Just a soaked hoodie and those same soft, searching eyes.

“Yuta.” You said, before you could stop yourself.

He didn’t move at first, as if afraid you were a mirage. Then he took one step forward.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” He said gently, eyes flicking to the bruised shadows under yours that matches his. “Neither have I.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I’d run into you.” He admitted. “I know you’ve been avoiding me. I’m not mad, I just…” He looked down. “I wanted to talk.”

You should’ve walked past him. Told him no. Told him to stay out of your orbit like you had every other time.

But something was different. The night was quieter. The rain was soft, almost forgiving.

“Okay.” You heard yourself say. “Talk.”

——————————————————————————

The café you ducked into was almost empty, save for an elderly couple in the corner and a bored teenager manning the counter. You sat at a table by the window, wet sleeves clinging to your arms. Yuta got two cups of hot tea, even though you hadn’t asked for one. He always remembered how you took it: overlysweet, more milk than water.

You stared at the cup for a long time before finally asking. “So what is it?”

He hesitated, then folded his hands on the table. “I kept thinking about the last thing you said to me. That I lost you.”

You looked away.

“I don’t want that to be true.” He said. “But I get why it might be.”

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t know how to make it right.” He admitted. “I wish I did. I keep thinking that if I’d just written more, or called, or somehow gotten out when things got bad, maybe-”

“Stop.” You said softly.

He blinked. “What?”

“Stop apologizing.” You said. “Stop making excuses. You can’t go back and change what happened.”

“I know-”

“You weren’t there.” Your voice trembled. “And no matter what reason you had, no matter how noble or selfless, the fact is: you left. And I needed you.”

Yuta’s shoulders slumped. He looked like someone who had been carrying the weight of the world and finally realized it wasn’t his alone to bear.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “For real. Not for the decision I made back then but for how much it hurt you. For what you went through without me.”

Tears prickled at your eyes.

“I was so angry.” You admitted. “At the world. At Gojo. At Sukuna. But mostly at you. Because you were the only one who chose to leave.”

“I didn’t know how to stay.” He breathed out, voice barely audible. “Everything felt like a ticking time bomb. I thought if I stayed, I’d hurt you. Or lose control. Or…”

“Or you’d have to watch the people you love die?” You finished for him.

He froze.

You gave a hollow laugh. “Welcome to the club.”

——————————————————————————

He walked you home that night.

Not your shared apartment. Not yet. You were staying temporarily at a dormitory unit reserved for active field sorcerers. It was sparse and functional, barely lived-in. The type of place that made it easy to pretend you didn’t need roots anymore.

He stood awkwardly in the hallway as you unlocked the door.

“Do you still hate me?” He asked suddenly.

You looked over your shoulder at him, wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek.

“I never hated you.” You said. “I just didn’t know how to love you without breaking.”

His expression crumpled, open and devastated. Because somehow this was worse.

“I still love you.” He said, with the kind of raw, trembling honesty that made it impossible to pretend otherwise. “I think I always will.”

You turned away. “Goodnight, Yuta.”

The door closed softly behind you.

——————————————————————————

You dreamt of him that night.

Not the Yuta who had left. But the one who used to sneak into your room after curfew. Who always made too much rice because he never remembered how to portion it for two. The boy who used to hold you in his sleep, as if afraid that even in dreams, he might lose you.

You woke up crying.

——————————————————————————

Days passed. Then a week.

Something shifted between you. There was still space, still a hundred unspoken things but the walls weren’t as high anymore.

He stopped showing up at your door uninvited. But when you bumped into each other, he’d smile. Not in expectation, but in acknowledgment. Like he was saying: “I’m still here. Whenever you’re ready.” A constant linger of a ghost that somehow was starting to become warmer.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself waiting for those moments.

——————————————————————————

You were the one who finally asked to talk again.

It was a long day and your team had just returned from a low-grade exorcism outside Yokohama, but it had gone south quickly. You’d barely made it out without serious injuries.

Yuta found you sitting on the training ground bleachers after dark, alone, your uniform torn and blood crusted on your sleeve.

He didn’t say a word. Just sat beside you, close enough to feel, far enough not to crowd.

After several minutes, you broke the silence. “Do you remember when we talked about names for a cat?”

He looked over. “Yeah. You liked stupid ones.”

“Cursedpaws would’ve been iconic.”

He gave a breath of laughter, and for a moment, it felt like time hadn’t passed at all.

“I don’t want to go back.” You said. “Not really. That world doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t know who I am after…” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to forget, either.”

“I won’t let you.” He said. “I’ll remember for both of us.”

You looked at him. The scars were more visible now, both emotional and physical. He was still the same Yuta underneath, but harder around the edges. Sharpened by grief. Tempered by time.

So were you. Still broken. But no longer alone.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“That’s okay too.”

You stayed like that until the sky lightened.

——————————————————————————

You started spending more time together after that.

Not romantic. Not exactly. Not yet. But steady.

You walked together after missions. Trained side-by-side. Shared silence without expectation.

One night, he cooked dinner for you.

“I found the recipe you liked.” He said, lifting the lid of a pan. “The curry one that you used to add an embarrassing amount of ginger to.”

“It was the perfect amount.” You said, smiling faintly.

He handed you a plate. “Guess you’ll have to judge.”

The food wasn’t perfect. A little over-salted. The rice slightly underdone.

It was the best thing you’d eaten in months.

——————————————————————————

Two months passed.

The wounds didn’t disappear, but they faded. The grief never left, but it learned to share space with other things.

Yuta began to open up about Africa. About the training. About the guilt.

You told him about Shibuya. The carnage. The fear. The losses you still couldn’t name without breaking.

Sometimes, you still pushed him away. And sometimes, he still left too much unsaid.

But the distance grew smaller with every step.

——————————————————————————

One night, you stood outside your old apartment again. This time, you weren’t alone.

He didn’t ask if you wanted to go in. He just waited as you unlocked the door.

Inside, the dust had mostly settled. Things hadn’t changed. But something about the air felt warmer.

You looked around slowly, then back at him.

“Do you remember what you said?” You asked. “That night on the platform?”

He nodded. “I said I’d come back.”

“And I said… to promise me.”

“I did.”

You looked down.

“You broke it.”

He didn’t answer.

“But maybe,” You said. “it was a promise you weren’t ready to keep.”

Yuta looked at you, heart in his throat.

“And maybe,” You added, “I wasn’t ready to forgive you. But I think…” You swallowed. “I think I want to try.”

The silence between you stretched, then softened.

“Try what?” He asked, voice low as if he was afraid that if he spoke too loud you’d disappear.

You stepped closer.

“This.” You said. “Us. Whatever this is now.”

His eyes searched yours.

“I’m not perfect.” He said. “And I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes.”

“I’m not asking for perfect.” You said. “I just want you to stay.”

He reached out, slowly, gently, his hand curling around yours like something fragile.

“I will.”

This time, you believed him.

——————————————————————————

It had been four months since that night.

The apartment felt lived-in again. Warmth bloomed slowly. First in the way the curtains were drawn open again to let in sunlight, then in the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the quiet music humming from an old speaker, and the pair of worn sneakers left beside the front door.

You’d half expected it to be awkward. You and Yuta, falling back into the rhythm of something once broken. But it wasn’t. It was gentle. Careful. Intentional.

You didn’t move back in overnight. It happened gradually. A toothbrush left behind. A jacket you forgot to take. A drawer that became yours again before you even realized it.

Now, you woke up on a Sunday to the smell of something faintly burnt and the sound of muffled cursing from the kitchen.

You pulled yourself out of bed, blanket tangled around your legs, and padded down the hall.

Yuta stood at the stove, armed with a spatula and a determined frown. A pan of pancakes, one with suspiciously dark on the edges that sizzled in front of him.

He turned as you entered, expression sheepish. “They got away from me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “So… cereal it is?”

“I have a backup batch.” He said defensively. “These are just the test pancakes.”

“Are they safe to eat?”

“Mostly.” He shrugged.

You walked over and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He looked surprised and then softened under the touch.

“I like the burnt ones anyway.” You mused softly.

He grinned, a little shy, like he was still getting used to the fact that he could reach for you again and you’d be there.

And you were.

——————————————————————————

Later, you sat on the couch together, your legs over his lap, your mug warm in your hands. A movie played quietly in the background, forgotten halfway through.

You watched the early sunlight stretch across the floor and thought. This isn’t what I expected. But maybe it’s what I needed.

Yuta’s hand found yours. His thumb traced idle circles over your skin.

“Are you happy?” He asked softly, like it was a question he’d been holding onto for weeks.

You didn’t answer right away.

“I think I’m learning how to be again.” You said. “And that feels like enough right now.”

He nodded. “I’m glad. I’m still figuring it out, too.”

You rested your head against his shoulder.

“I don’t need it to be perfect.” You muttered. “I just need you to stay.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

He just held your hand tighter.

——————————————————————————

The scars didn’t vanish.

There were nights when sleep came late, and mornings when grief crept back in with the rising sun. There were moments when the weight of the past curled like fog at your feet, threatening to drag you down.

But those moments passed.

And now, you weren’t alone when they came.

Sometimes, Yuta still dreamed of Africa. Of isolation. Of Rika. Of the voices he couldn’t silence. You would hold him through the worst of it, steady and quiet, your fingers in his hair.

And sometimes you dreamed of Shibuya. The screams. The rubble. The smell of blood in the air. He would light the lamp beside the bed without a word, and pull you close until your breathing evened out again.

You didn’t erase each other’s pain. You simply made space for it to exist and space for everything else, too. Laughter. Forgiveness. Hope.

Love.

——————————————————————————

One evening, you found him on the rooftop, sitting on the ledge with a sketchpad in his hands.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps. “Hey.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Never.” He smiled, then turned the pad toward you.

You blinked. “Is that… Cursedpaws?” You asked trying to stifle a laugh.

The sketch was crude, a little lopsided, but unmistakably a cat with three tails, enormous eyes, and a jujutsu ward tag stuck to its collar.

You failed miserably and laughed, honest and bright.

“I thought maybe we could adopt one.” He confessed, a little bashful. “A regular cat, I mean. No cursed energy.”

You sat beside him, the city spread out below like a thousand stories you hadn’t lived yet.

“I think I’d like that.” You said.

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t the life you planned but it was the one you chose.

And this time, this version of you and Yuta… you weren’t afraid of what came next.

Because even in a world where curses still lingered in the corners, where loss was always one breath away. You had found something worth staying for.

And that was everything.

Tags: @pickledsoda @hawkwithsocks @noooo-onee

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk fic #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu angst #yuuta okkotsu angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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secretficblogs · 7 months ago

Text

SDE (Single Dad Energy) Divorced David "Deacon" Kay x School Counselor! Reader

Summary: Deac gets called into Matts school to meet his new counselor.

What to expect: 1.6K words, Light mention of divorce, no angst, fluff, light flirting

A/N: This is the first fic I'm posting, so feedback is appreciated! I need more SWAT friends/moots, and I might add a part 2!

It was a slow day around HQ, which is why Deac was relieved to hear his phone ring. His relief quickly dissolved when he saw it was his ex-wife, and mother of his children, Annie. He sighed before picking up and plastering a smile on his face. His team members snickered as he walked away from the group.

“David, Mathew's school just called. They asked for a parent but didn't say why. I'm in a session and can't get over there, " she said shortly.

“We're in luck, I should be able to head over there shortly.” He looked over to his team, laughing, presumably teasing Luca. With a short goodbye, Annie hung up leaving Deacon to wonder what trouble his son had gotten into this time. He pocketed his phone before making his way back over to the table.

“That was Annie. Mathew's school asked me to come in. Think you could spare me for a bit?” Deac looked towards Hondo, eyebrows raised. Hondo went to say “Yes” but Tan interrupted.

“I don't know, we may need your help with separating all of these M&M’s by color.” Deacon looked down at the small bowls of peanut candies, before laughing and shaking his head. He patted Tan on the back before swiftly making his way to the locker rooms.

After a rather uneventful ride through mid-day LA traffic, he ended up at his child's school. He parked and entered the lobby. The receptionist asked him to sit and wait for the Counselor to come grab him. He thought back to the last school counselor and recalled a hoard of parents having problems with him. He wondered if the crappy counselor would be the one to grab him, or if they had finally replaced him.

He hadn't yet considered entering the dating scene. Not since Annie and him finalized the divorce. It wasn't the messiest, but he hadn't met anyone to go through a “clean” divorce either. It wasn't that he was still in love with Annie, but he was more concerned with getting split custody figured out. Not to mention work, which takes up most of his mental and emotional capacity.

That's why he was in shock as the counselor came out to greet him. She was tall, her heeled boots only furthering the gap between the nearby counter and her waist. She was wearing a floral dress with poofy sleeves. Her curled brunette hair perfectly framing her face. Deacon felt his heart flutter, which shocked him. He hadn't felt that since…

“Mr. Kay?” She made her way over to Deac. Oh lord, her voice. He stood and shook her hand. He tried to shove down any unrelated thought but ended up making a fool out of himself trying to tell her he was Mr. Kay. Despite him stumbling over his words, she nodded along. Her hand extended to the office behind her, and she began walking down the hallway, urging him to follow her.

“I'm Ms. (L/N). Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Kay-” She began.

“Davids, fine.”

“Alright. Thank you for meeting with me, David. I reached out to Mathew's mother, but I’m glad you were the one to show up” She explained as they made it to her cozy office. She sat in an armchair and gestured for him to sit in the chair beside her. He was confused but got comfortable in the maroon chair regardless.

“Mathew has been in my office a couple times, to talk about things on his mind.” She continued. Annie had mentioned something about Matt seeing the counselor, but he didn't want to pry too much.

“Mathews' English teacher expressed some concerns with his personal narrative. After one of our meetings, he asked me to show you his essay.” She passed over a stapled paper.

“Was it something he didn't want to share out loud?”

“Sometimes children find it difficult to explain or convey messages face to face. Mathew’s writing is beautiful, and that's why I think you'll want to skim through it.” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. Deacon swallowed and looked down at the essay his son worked on. While he read the counselor stood and made her way toward the window, giving him space to work through the well-written essay. His son was pouring his heart out, talking about how his dad’s work and his morals are shaping him into an amazing person. Deacon almost teared up at the amount of pride Matt had in his dad. Reading through the essay helped Deac understand the weight of the divorce on Matt, and how he wanted to support his siblings and be the “Deacon” when his dad wasn't there.

He looked up to see the counselor looking down at her nails, done for the current season. His heart swelled for his son, but he was also impressed with how dedicated the counselor was to helping connect families. She looked up and met his eyes, then smiled.

“You're welcome to take that with you, share it with Mathews mother if you think that'd help at all.” They stared at each other, a level of awkwardness settled between them with the mention of Deacon's Ex-wife.

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. This whole… situation has been difficult to navigate, for everyone.” Deacon thought out loud, she nodded along.

Her eyes shifted to her desk, “I told Mathew that I was his age when my folks got divorced. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. David, Mathew is brilliant and his writing skills are something not many people see at his age.” She made her way back to the armchair, and sat, her hands settling in her lap.

“He really is. I heard some pretty awful things about the last counselor,” He paused to witness her laugh. He could feel his insides warm; He wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. “Which is why I’m so glad my kids have a solid support system in their school. Do you have kids, Ms. (L/N)?” He looked up, making a mental note to talk to Mathew later. She let her eyes meet him again. Allowing herself to feel some excitement that he cared to ask about her life.

“Oh, I don't. I get my fair share of them here.” It was her turn to make him laugh. She noticed his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than she would've expected.

“I’m sure of it, I spend a couple hours with my youngest, and I start thinking in toddler. What made you want to become a counselor?” He crossed his arms.

“I've always been interested in psychology, and like I said, I went through a rough time when I was Mathew's age. So it led me here. ” She gestured to the office surrounding them. He nodded along as if it were the most interesting thing he'd heard in days. Every shred of information she gave him only made him want to know more. The light blush across her cheeks told him that she might want to know more about him too.

"And you? What led you to SWAT?” They exchanged small talk before the phone on the desk rang. She excused herself before grabbing the phone. Deacon took this time to take in the cozy office. The maroon chairs paired well with the rest of the olive interior. He took it she was an artistic type. He found photos carefully placed along the walls, ones from all over the world. He recognized the Eiffel Tower behind her in one of them. In another she was in front of Chichen-itza. Other spots on the wall were filled with paintings, most of them portraits.

“Yes… I understand. Yeah, we can reschedule… Tomorrow works, 2pm..? Alright. Good. Have a good day… Thank you!” She placed the phone back on the dock before turning back to him. “Sorry about that, David.” She held her hands together in her lap and sat on the corner of her desk.

They talked about simple things, for a couple more minutes before Deacon received a text from Hondo, telling him where to meet for a case. He stood and shot her an apologetic look.

She laughed, “It’s no worry. Thank you for stopping in. I'm glad you got to read Matt’s essay. I hear there are some really great writing camps and competitions coming up. I think your encouragement could go a long way for him.” She smiled, something he noticed she did the majority of their time together.

“Of course. I didn't realize how much of a way my boy had with words. I'll talk to him more about it tonight. Thank you, Ms, (L/N).” He moved towards the door.

“Please, call me (F/N).” Her blush came back even brighter. He felt bolder, now that she got a little more personal with him. He decided to shoot his first shot in decades and pray it hit somewhere.

“Well (F/N), If it's not too forward of me… Maybe we can get to know each other a bit more over dinner?” The moment the words left his mouth he felt nervousness making his body feel heavier. He couldn't help his hands from fumbling with each other. She was gorgeous, and a little younger than him. Not to mention his kid’s school counselor.

His racing thoughts were stopped in their tracks by her voice. “I’d like that a lot. I know a Mediterranean place that serves the best paella. ” She looked to him for confirmation.

“Sounds great,” He wrote his number down on a nearby sticky note and passed it to her. “I can't wait to hear more about those pictures on the wall.” He took one last look at the picture of her in front of the Eiffel Tower, before backing out of the office. She laughed and waved him off.

“I'll text you.”

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