Tumgik
#half mental half physical. maybe. probably
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Emotions suck, let’s drink instead
CW: alcohol and drug use (THC), Kid and reader suck at feels, Killer being the bestest (trying these characters for the first time!), mentions of not feeling comfortable as self or with own biological gender (fem) - kinda hints at being non-binary but no pronouns used at all.
WC: 5415
Nearly ten drinks in; it’s been a handful of hours at the bar and no one wants to go back yet. You are celebrating your first year with the crew and Heat insisted that you all go out to party since you docked yesterday to reset the log pose. Well, most everyone except Kid and Killer were there. You weren’t sure of their exact reasons but they said they were going to meet up with everyone later and just haven’t showed up yet. Probably enjoying the peace on the ship so Killer can organize the kitchen or sharpen his blades and Kid can work on his newest project in his workroom. You know there are times that they prefer to be alone and they most likely took advantage of the crew being gone.
Though, Kid has been acting weird lately, for at least a few months now. You asked Heat about it but he just shrugged and said he hadn’t noticed much of anything. Maybe you were just reading into things but it seemed like he was avoiding you most days. Unless you went into towns, visiting brothels with the guys and drinking too much, then when you got back in his gaze you would feel like he was burning holes through you. Still, he never said anything to you, just stared with his alluring albeit piercing eyes.
When you first joined the crew he seemed to treat you like everyone else, like one of the guys, which is how you liked it. You’ve never really felt like much of a stereotypical woman, regardless of what you had under your clothes. Being with the men just felt right, and being with women outside of physical relations just got difficult, as if you weren’t speaking the same language more than half the time, it made you recognize you hate being one of them. You felt mentally alien with your own gender. It hurt to spend more than a few hours with anyone not on the crew any more, since they all seemed to understand this about you and treat you the way you appreciated being treated.
You thought you had gotten closer to everyone, including the Captain and first mate, but clearly they didn’t care as much as you wanted them to. They should be here too, you wanted them here. It’s hard to not want to be around them, but especially when you feel the most like yourself. However, drink after drink you started feeling more like you shouldn’t be celebrating. You laughed with the crew but felt hollow inside. You shouldn’t desire the validation of those two this much but something was clawing at you on the inside of your skull, driving you to wish for their presence every moment that passed.
Hitting the 15th drink and barely being able to stand (seeing as you mixed hard liquor and beer all night) Heat sidles next to you at the bar and quietly asks if you’d like to go back and go to bed. You nod and he helps you stand, trying to appear as stable as possible while saying goodnight to everyone left over. Some decided to go back to the brothels about town since you were departing, and others went to stay at inns after the bar closed.
Walking back with Heat got you slurring your words about Kid to him, but he’s used to this from you. You had a tendency to focus on the captain, and ask Heat if he had any new info about what was going on. He always shrugs it off, no news to tell, but states you should just talk to him and ask yourself. Like you’d be able to do that after he makes you feel like you’re made of glass and he can see everything inside you and beyond. Even this intoxicated you wonder if you’d just make a complete ass of yourself trying to talk to him, though it would make it easier, you’d prefer to just slur your words at him and hope he doesn’t understand. At least you would get it out of your system and say you tried.
By the time you reach the Victoria Punk you feel a bit better on your own two feet. You thank Heat as he walks you up the gang plank but urge him to go enjoy the rest of the night; he does, after triple checking with you, leaving you to the cool night air on deck.
The stars are shining, no moon to speak of, and it’s cloudless with the slightest of breezes coming off the sea. You can taste the salt in the air; it’s quiet and tranquil, only insects and waves to be heard as the noises of the town are far from the docks. Before you realize it, you’re lying on your back, staring up at the night sky, just breathing in the harmonious evening.
Now that you’re home, and just slightly more sober than you were a bit ago, you pull a flask from your pocket and drink more. Time to encourage sleep to come; you’re certain no one will be back tonight anyway, so sleeping outside on the deck shouldn’t be a problem. Plus without the booze, your mind would just continue to race about everything and nothing. It never shuts off without help, it’s been like this since you can remember and thank the gods for drugs and booze because without them, you may not sleep until your body forces it.
With your eyes closed you take another swig of liquor from the flask and sigh.
“Hey.” Startled, you tilt your head up against the wood of the deck to see Killer standing near you, mask turned towards the rolling waves over the rails. You can only hum in response now, a bit too drunk for proper words. “Need help getting to your cabin?” You close your eyes and tried to speak, “ ‘mmkay ‘ere fo mow” Killer sighs, “clearly.”
“wewerer y’two?” you hiccup to him, “miss’dcha” He sits next to you, “Sorry.” You hum again and go back to listening to the nature around you. Without warning you feel your head being lifted up and gently put back down on something firm but soft. Looking up, you see Killer much closer now, torso right next to your face, “drink this, please.” He holds water in front of you, now lying against his lap, giving you better angle to drink from. You do as he says then lean back on him, cuddling up to his warmth instinctively after chugging a good portion of water from the canister.
“You should really go to bed, sleeping out here will get you sick in this state. Kid would be upset…” You jump in your skin when you hear Kid’s name and stare at Killer, stopping him mid-sentence with your reaction. “Regardless, we can’t have you getting ill from your own celebration.” He finishes.
“He rare’y s’eaks ta me…” you mutter and look away, towards Killer’s feet and across the deck. You lift your flask to take another shot but Killer stops you, “He will. In the meantime, let’s give up the flask and get you to bed, okay?” you just nod and attempt to sit up a bit, arms bent under you only able to lift you slightly from Killer until the deck is spinning, you close your eyes again and breathe deep. Killer picks you up and rubs your back as you curl comfortably into his chest, holding tight around his neck for stability; he walks you slowly to your cabin, leaving a bucket near your bed just in case you need it. Making sure you are on your side and comfortable, he tucks the blanket around you and pats your head gently. You fall fast asleep.
---
Forever the insomniac, you wake a few hours later, still kind of drunk, to the sounds of birds chirping and metal clanking. The world looks blurry but you manage to get up and go to the kitchen for coffee, maybe a little hair of the dog will help your morning. You find a pot already made, and Killer working on a small pile of breakfast. Clearly not enough for the crew, you bet most are still out in town sleeping off their evening escapades.
A cup in hand, you sit at the counter and take out your flask to empty the end of its contents into the dark liquid. “Really?” you hear Killer ask. You lightly shush him and bring the mixture to your lips, breathing in the aroma of your medicine and taking a long drink. “I need this for reasons.” You finally breathe out. “Sure. Do you want any food in your stomach or just alcohol and caffeine?” you look at him and shake your head with a sour face, “food doesn’t sound like a plan right now, but thank you.”
Slamming back the rest of your drink, you stand to clean your cup and leave when Kid walks in. You can feel his eyes on you but you dare not look at him, still unsure of how to be around him, or why he’s been acting the way he has. Maybe you did something to warrant the silence. Maybe you should just go drink in the shower and hide away until the crew comes back and you can mix in with the group. You clutch your flask in one hand and begin to fast walk to the door but it’s pulled from your grasp.
“Confiscated until further notice. Go take a shower and sober up.” Your captain says sternly, the flask flying into his hand as he sits down to eat. You turn abruptly and briefly look at him with a pout you couldn’t control. He had been looking at you until your eyes met, but he quickly turned his attention to his food and slid the container into his pocket. You let out a childish huff and made your way to do as your captain said.
 You’d be lying if you didn’t think about taking your stashed bottle of rum with you into the shower. Just because he had your flask doesn’t mean he has all the liquor locked up too, but you thought better of going against his word. The last thing you want is to make him any more upset than he probably already is. Without the alcohol though, your head is throbbing with anxious energy, you can’t stop thinking of your captain and what you may have done to make him basically ignore you all these months.
The last real interaction you recall was at a brothel; you had just finished with one of the courtesans and another patron who had flirted with you earlier in the evening at a bar down the road. You and the random guy were coming down the stairs, laughing about something stupid, and your captain was in the bar area when he spotted you coming towards him. You waved at the guy as he was leaving and hopped on a seat next to Kid.
“Did he pay to watch?” he snickered while taking a chug of his glass. “Nope, but I got him to pay for her services to the group, so free three-way!” you laughed and waved the bartender down for a mug. Kid coughed like he breathed in some of his drink, “I didn’t realize you…were into guys too.” He looked down at the bar. “Oh yeah, I’m pretty fluid for whoever. So long as I like the person, I don’t care what they’re packing.” A drink was sat in front of you and you promptly began chugging it like it was water.
Kid slams the rest of his drink back and proceeds to pay for you both before walking away. “Thanks! I’ll see you back on the ship in a bit!” you shout after him and he waves behind himself as his long strides take him out the door.
Now you were thinking back on it, maybe you shouldn’t have told him about the three-way? But what was wrong with that? You knew the crew was filled with raunchy stories like that all the time, it’s not like you were the first. You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you feel the water running cold. “Fuck.” You didn’t comprehend how long you were standing there, just lost in yourself.
---
By the evening the crew had come and gone again, knowing the ship was set to leave tomorrow; they had one more night in town to do whatever they wanted. Heat asked if you wanted to come to the brothel tonight and you said you would meet him there, just have to try to get your comfort flask back from the captain before you head out. He wished you a sincere good luck before catching up to Wire on the docks.
Kid had just finished delegating some instructions to a few final crew members who were tasked with watching the ship tonight when you eyed him across the deck. As they dispersed you meandered your way towards him, attempting to hide your awkwardness. You had hopes you wouldn’t even have to say anything and he would just toss it to you and let you go about your evening, but why would he make anything easy on you?
He watched as you neared him, “Need something?” he asked, patting his pocket where he had the flask. “I do…. A great need, actually, if you don’t mind.” Smiling back at him with a hand out, anticipating the ease you dreamed of. “Too damn bad for you. I’ll be joining tonight: this, and you, will remain with me.” Your mouth went agape at his words and it forced a taken-aback chuckle to emerge from your throat. “If you don’t like that, you can stay here and remain sober, with Killer.” Killer passes behind you and hears this, whispering, “Why am I being punished too?” Kid must have heard that because he flipped Killer off quickly before beginning to walk off the ship.
Clearly you wanted this to go another way and he knew that but your desire to be intoxicated was stronger than your fear of whatever has been going on with your captain lately so you tag along behind him, Killer also in tow. You both stay behind Kid as he walks toward the nearest brothel, “I told you he would say something to you.” Killer quietly says to you. “Yeah, but this was not on my list of conversation ideas…” you push out of the side of your mouth at him.
Once inside the brothel, the three of you sat at the bar, Killer on your right, and Kid on your left; sandwiched between the ones you desperately wanted around you last night. You had the bartender make you two drinks; slammed one and began lifting the other when Kid looked at you with side eye, “what you’ve never watched me at a bar before? Oh wait, I’m certain you have.” You torment as you turn on your stool to check out tonight’s line up of ladies.
Kid used his power on the metal rim of your stool to turn you back around, “If you want your flask back, at all, you’ll stay right by me tonight.” His eyes lock onto yours and you squirm in your seat.
“I’m not the only one who drinks a lot, you know, I don’t see why I’m being punished.” You frown and cross your arms in another childish display of irritation.
“I’m not punishing you for drinking, but I should for your attitude today, brat.” You both take a drink to settle the wave of tension. “I just thought we should celebrate with you tonight… since we didn’t join yesterday, and I took your flask to keep you from running off. And also so you wouldn’t drink in the shower again.”
You looked at him as he stared at his mug, “how do you know I do that sometimes?”
His face was turning pink, “I can sense the metal in the pile of clothes you take in there, it’s not like I’m watching you.”
“No, not watching, just taking notes.” You giggle then think to yourself about other things he could be using his power for. You are now very aware of your nipple piercings basically being on display under your clothes to him as your own face turns pink and you cover yourself with your left arm.
Killer nudges your right arm and just places his hands on the bar, holding his mug, indicating you should do the same; as if he could read your mind and shouldn’t make it more obvious what you were thinking.
 “Anyways!” you start, “Thanks for taking care of me last night, Killer.” He stiffens, “ I can only imagine how much worse off I would have been this morning if I had slept on deck, though those stars were sorely missed, and we could have cuddled a bit more; next time though” you wink at him and see his neck turn a bit red.
“Ah so you weren’t too drunk to remember.” He says. “And it wasn’t really cuddling.” Unsure why he was trying to clarify you lean on his shoulder for a moment, “than neither is this, I guess you’re just my shoulder to lean on.” A prompt pull from your left had you off Killer’s shoulder before you could make a cute face at him to tease him even more; however you were now leaning on the man that pulled you. Adjusting immediately back to sitting straight, you turn your attention back to your mug and chug your second drink, calling the bartender for more already.
“What, are you afraid of me or something?” Kid asks angrily, hand gripping his drink, reshaping the metal mug. Killer excuses himself quietly, brushing your shoulder with his hand; only a mild comfort seeing as your support is running away.
“No… but also… I don’t know.” You can’t look him in the eyes as you finally succumb to your fear of sharing these thoughts. “Maybe we could drink a bit more…” you trail off, proceeding with your feelings makes your mouth dry, every instinct is telling you to get belligerently intoxicated. You just want to turn everything off; your face is betraying you, grimacing at each lost syllable dying to spill from your guts.
Kid slams your flask onto the bar, finishes his drink in one gulp and gets up as well. “You come find me when you do know then; I’ll be in my workshop.” Your head drops to the bar, agony seeping from your pores. You turn your face to the door only to see his broad shoulders turning the corner and walking outside.
“I literally walked away for less than a minute, what happened?” Killer comes back and blocks your view of the empty doorway. “I just…. Can’t bring myself to talk about things, at least not unless I’m super fucked up.” You tilt your head back so your forehead is flat on the bar top, unable to look Killer in his mask right now. He pats your back, “you talk to Heat just fine, drunk and sober.” Hearing this makes you sit up right, “what did he tell you?” you glare, half looking around to see where that idiot was, as if you could see through the walls and locate his position.
“Nothing specific, but I’m also not as oblivious as you and Kid are.” Killer admits and lets out a big sigh. “If you need to drink more to get this over with, than do it; I’ll help you back to the ship.” You just stare at him for a second, taking that in. “If this is truly what we’re doing tonight, then it would be cheaper if we drank on deck… and I also know something extra that gets me to talk, but you can’t get pissy about it.” You hold your finger to his chest, praying he won’t confiscate the only other thing you hold dear. “I wasn’t the one who took your stuff to begin with.” If he ever laughed out loud now would be the moment you suspect he would.
----
Back on the deck of the Victoria Punk, you had your flask full and a little metal case in hand with it. “You wanna share with the group what you have?” Killer motions to your stashed items. A smirk grows on your face as you open the case and show him a couple rows of pre-rolled joints. “Ah, of course.” As you light one up and take a couple hits, you offer to Killer and he surprisingly accepts; being able to smoke through his mask was a fun thing to see as you began your crossfade.
“So, tell me about what you’ve noticed, as a third party observer. Since you aren’t as oblivious as some of us.” You send Killer a glance and a giggle as you continue to pass the joint back and forth.
“I won’t say everything, seeing as you both need to talk about things, but since you’re also both really bad at emotions…. I’ll hint you this; eye contact and honesty would be best from both of you if you can just buck up and bear it for like 5 minutes. I see you being able to get him to crack, if you just let go first.” He passes the joint and motions for you to finish it.
“If I can actually get the words out without vomiting with them, will it be worth it? Or will I find out something I don’t want to know?” you stare into the sea, hoping for the peace you felt the night before to overtake you again.
“It’s in everyone’s best interest if you at least try.” He rubs your back again and just like last night you feel more at ease, “Just know, he doesn’t invite anyone to disturb him in his workroom, but he angrily told you that is where to find him.”
Finishing your toke, you put out the embers and hide the roach back in the case, taking a big swig of rum from your flask and shaking out your nerves you prep yourself for what may come. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I gotta just grow a pair and get in there and… UGH. FINE! Emotions suck.”
----
Standing outside the workshop door has your stomach in knots. There’s a heavy feeling in the air, consuming your movements, keeping you from knocking, barely allowing you to breathe. Killer clears his throat down the hall, watching you stiff as a board and staring at the intimidating door, the noise jostles you from your trance slightly and you sigh deeply. One last shot from your flask for courage, keeping your crossfade mildly intact.
Knock, knock, knock…. You gently rap against the wood and metal. A stern and loud “What!?” pierces your ears and you see a crack appear, allowing you to come in with a simple nudge. You knew he must have sensed you, must have known who it was the whole time you traced the details of the door with your eyes, waiting for the muscles in your body to allow you to proceed and alert him you were ready to talk.
“Hi” you exhaled out as you slipped through the door and it closed behind you, now trapped in a room with the one person who made your whole body feel like jelly. Anticipation making your heart thud in your chest. Your mind is in overdrive as you watch him turn around and stand to face you completely. How do you start this, how will it end, what of this feeling in your gut, in your chest? How long has this tightness been growing in response to his presence? 
You are much more in tune with your emotions when drunk and/or high and right now, you were feeling something that was buried deep, deep, down before. A desire for your captain; his intimidating aura, the way his muscles dance when he moves even so slightly, the smell of metal that lingers in the air around him, and the sound of his heavy steps as he makes his way towards you. Everything he did was enticing. You may have lost grip of these feelings while he had avoided you, lacking his presence like this was like being in a sensory deprivation tank, floating in silence and nothingness, or maybe they are just now surfacing because you’ve never been in his personal space like this before. This room was meant for privacy; an intimate space that you were allowed to enter for a conversation just as sacred as the walls around you. You were being rapidly pulled from the sense deprived stupor you had yourself in for months and flung into an overwhelming situation.
He was inches from you now, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, trying hard to recall that Killer made it clear to speak honestly and keep eye contact. His beautiful, fierce, and captivating eyes; how could you look away now that he has you here, in his special hideaway, far from anything else that could interfere with what may occur. As if this room was the entire world.
“What?” He repeats himself in a quieter and softer tone, speaking directly to you but still demanding you release the words so anxiously cradled in your throat. You swallow what little saliva was being created in your mouth; you go to drink from your flask again when his hand covers the top of it, holding your motion still in front of your heaving chest.
“You need the booze just to talk to me? Just spit it out dammit!” a relentless tremble came over you, Kid’s words filling you with apprehension that would either shut you down or let the flood gates open. The latter became true when his muscles twitched, almost turning away from you until you finally began to speak.
“I do. I really fucking do need the booze. For so many reasons, but honestly right now, just to get these words out without throwing up from fear, not of you, but of myself. Of the emotions I feel. Of the fear I have that you aren’t even interested in being around me anymore. It’s been months since we have had this much interaction and I don’t know what I did to encourage this…. this…. abandonment I’ve felt from you. I see you constantly but I notice you turn away like you can’t even look at me. I started doing the same because I figured you hated me for something I did or said or…” every word came rushing from you, some slurring together and sounding like they were one, combined into strung sentences of panic that you may not be able to complete the thoughts swirling in your mind, you were just hoping to sound a bit coherent and convey how you need him. You need him to be what he was, at the very least; months ago when you felt he was more than your captain, like he was a friend.
As you tried to continue your quick rant, tears threatening to fall from your grimaced face, you were stopped by a force against your body. Your captain had you wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, muscles tight enough around you to feel comfort and safety rather than a need to struggle free and hide. You heard his breath caught in his throat like he was going to speak, just as nervous as you were moments ago, now in a gentle but firm embrace you decide to wrap your arms around him as well, allowing the same comfort to wash over his body, feeling your reciprocation.
“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry you’ve felt abandoned. I just… well I guess we’re much alike in the way we don’t handle emotions well, or at all. I told myself if I stopped trying to get close to you that I could move past what was dwelling in me, something I haven’t felt in a long time and never knew I would be able to feel again…” He stops and you feel his head rest against yours, arms dropping from around your shoulders to your waist. His flesh hand begins to slowly stroke up and down your spine, leaving you tingling at the light touch over your shirt.
“Every time we would dock and I would see you at the brothels, having a good time drinking and…. Doing whatever else… I had this pit open inside me. It was hard to not watch you, but when you would catch me I felt a burning that caused to me turn from your gaze. I didn’t want you see what I’m sure was written all over my face.” You stood stunned in his embrace and pulled back slightly to look at him again. Eye contact; now you needed it.
“Were you… jealous? I’ve been told I was oblivious but am I really that blind?” he dropped his forehead to yours, “I was. And I’m glad that you were.” He let out, eyes just far enough that you could see the need in them; a need for you, a need that you wanted to return. 
Bringing your arms to his chest, you caress his pecs, gliding one up further to his neck pressing and inviting him to come closer as you ready yourself to give in to desire. His body responds and you sense his metal arm lower to your thighs, easing you into a hold, lifted from the ground ever so gently. A more level playing field envelopes you both as your lips finally meet.
Gentle and hesitant for only a moment, the amount of time it took for your eyes to flutter shut. A mutual hunger overtook you both as an impatient tongue pushed its way to your own, you rolled yours against his and openly accepted the unyielding invasion. The hand you had on his neck slid into his hair, grabbing and twirling your fingers in the soft red locks, tormenting a groan from deep within him. The aggressive passion kept you locked to each other until your lungs forced you to inhale. His heartbeat was running wild under your touch, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
You were pressed against the door at this point; his hand moved to cup your face after parting for air, thumb brushing your cheek while strong fingers wrapped your jaw and graced your ear with a feather light tickle. His metal arm under you is barely holding you up now that your legs are wrapped around his hips, squeezing him between your thighs.
Leaning into his hand, you release a content sigh and smile. Your breathing has calmed and you only focus on the heat being exchanged between skin and clothes, and heart beats that are louder than any storm you’ve ever heard; as if at any second the thunderous roar will lull you to a sweet dream.
Your adrenaline from the moment begins to dissipate and the crossfade creeps back in, causing you to lower your feet to the floor for more stability. “You okay?” Still resting your face in his hand, eyes closed with a grin, you bring your own hand to his and nuzzle the warmth he emanated. “The okayest I’ve been in a long time.” You feel him kiss your forehead, “Yeah? You feeling tired?” you nod in response, “I don’t wanna but I think I should go to bed soon… best to sleep when I can since it often eludes me…”
Already drifting off, you hear him hum and soon you are being lifted through the hallway, cuddled against the broad chest of your captain. You hear a door open and close before being gently placed onto a bed. Something feels off as you finally open your eyes and realize you are not in your own bedroom. Kid takes off his boots and coat before taking off yours as well, covering you up under the blankets and crawling in next to you.
You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable as you curl up against Kid in his bed. This would be the best night of sleep, and first of many to come, that you’ve ever had.
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postpendulum · 8 months
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Damian's new classmate was what most people would deem as strange, Damian however could not see him as anything other than suspicious. Daniel Knight had joined in the midst of the school year, claiming to have moved here with his father Fredric Knight (first area of suspicion, a parent willingly moving both them and their child to Gotham) for a new start following his fathers divorce. The boy was reclusive when not spoken to directly, however he would not stop talking when a topic of his interest would come up. After searching further into his past (as he does with all his classmates) Damian found a relatively normal past, the only outstanding things being a noticeable drop in grades at the beginnings of freshman year relating to an undisclosed accident resulting in lichtenberg scarring starting from Daniels palm, and presumably up his arm being hidden by his sleeve. Apparently this accident left Daniel with irregular tremors and, every once in a blue moon, seizures. Damian had thought about taking this suspicious blockage of information to Tim or the Bat Computer to be bypassed, however the idea of sharing Daniel this cases existence with the rest of his family for some unexplained reason bothered him greatly, so Damian has come to the decision to figure out Knight’s true intentions on his own.
Meanwhile Danny’s just trying to live his new, semi-normal life in peace. After a reveal gone wrong results in some good old vivisection, Jazz Sam and Tucker recruit the help of Clockwork to find Danny a new home, where he can heal from both the physical and mental wounds. Clockwork ends up dumping Danny into the DC universe alongside Fright Knight, who was insistent on going with him, feeling responsible in helping to protect his young prince now since he feels he failed the first time. So with a bit of spacetime razzle dazzle, Tucker messing with stuff he probably shouldn't have messed with and a very tearful goodbye with promises to check in every day, Danny goes off to start his new life as Daniel Knight. It was going ok so far, he took half the year to himself, focusing on healing. Also so Frighty could adjust to the whole pretending to be human thing. Danny doesn't have any friends yet, and to be honest hasn't made the effort to make any (Jazz would be disappointed if she knew that), but there's this one boy in Danny's class who might be even weirder than him. Danny can feel Damian's eyes on him, knows how he follows him around without a sound (Danny really shouldn't be able to tell, he only knows because he isn't fully human(and in a weird way, Danny thinks that's kinda cool)), and whenever they do make eye contact Danny can see and feel the boy fluster and shy away.
Maybe he just needs a friend too.
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sanemisstalker · 8 months
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NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.
CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)
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Sanemi Shinazugawa
-Cums hards AND a lot.
-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.
-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.
-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.
-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.
-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?
-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.
-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.
-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.
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Kyōjurō Rengoku
-Cums a lot.
-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.
-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.
-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.
-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.
-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.
-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.
-Will not ask. That'd be rude.
-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.
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Enmu
-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.
-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.
-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.
-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)
-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.
-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-
-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?
-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.
-He feels like he's in the sun again.
-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.
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Akaza
-cums like a horse.
-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.
-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.
-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-
-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.
-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.
-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.
-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.
-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.
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mrpenguinpants · 1 year
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Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs
— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.
— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore
[Masterlist]
I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...
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Tartaglia
While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!
By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.
It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.
It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?
Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.
As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.
"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"
Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.
"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"
He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.
"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.
"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.
Kaveh
You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.
He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.
So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.
It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.
It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.
He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.
When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.
"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.
"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.
"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.
"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.
"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.
Ayato
To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.
It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.
It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.
Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.
He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.
If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.
There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.
"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.
"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.
"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.
"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."
"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."
"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.
"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"
"Only because you're here."
Alhaitham
You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.
To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.
No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.
Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.
It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.
As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.
"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.
"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.
"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.
"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.
Dottore
You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.
You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.
You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.
Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.
You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.
You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.
The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.
"Where have you been?"
For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.
"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.
"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.
"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.
"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"
He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.
"As if you would have anywhere to go."
———
[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.
@genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @openingssequence @onowie
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pandoraslxna · 7 months
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hello! i’m literally terrible at requesting things lol, but i thought i would ask if you would be doing another part to Stepbrother AU? i absolutely love the way you write neteyam. maybe some sweet and soft smut?
Sweet dreams
adult stepbro Neteyam x female omatikaya reader
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Words: 2.5k
Summary: It’s date night, the marui is quiet and Neteyam has you all to himself.
Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (= they’re not related by blood), fluff, praise kink, p in v, soft sex, semi-public, biting
Notes: adult Neteyam art was made by @cinetrix 🩵
Translation:
syulang = flower
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It’s date night.
Date night means, his parents will be away for the night. And that means, all responsibilities fall to him.
So Neteyam makes sure everyone’s fed, goes to hunt, skins the yerik with Lo‘ak and let’s Kiri help prepare the meat, while you’re out to give Tuk a much needed bath after playing in the dirt all day.
They all eat together, while mum and dad are out somewhere flying on their ikrans or swimming in a river, spending some much needed time away from their kids, even though half of them are grown already and can take care of themselves. These days, date night is more than a ritual that they decided to keep from the early years of their mating, than a day spent away from the rest of the family. The kids aren’t really kids anymore, they don’t fight like they used to, they don’t ask too many questions that make Jakes hairline thin out and they don’t stick to Neytiri like leeches anymore.
Except for little Tuk of course, because Tuk will most likely forever keep the status of the Sully’s baby, probably even when she has kids on her own.
Lo‘ak has grown too, but he’s still Lo‘ak. Has always been him and will never change the way he is. Unless Tsireya comes over– great mother help him, suddenly he’s someone Neteyam has never seen before and it makes him physically cringe. But who is he to judge and apparently the chiefs daughter seems to be into that 'oh my voice is naturally low and raspy and I definitely don’t deepen it just to impress you' type of thing.
Kiri is, well, she’s never been one to talk much, but since she’s reached the end of her what dad calls puberty and mother calls "a test to her mental strength" her head seems to be even more up in the clouds than it was before.
Neteyam himself has long reached that age where he would like to experience these domestic moments with his own little family, living in his own marui. But he can’t seem to peel himself away from here, from home. Not when everything he yearns for is right here.
Which brings us to you.
His pretty little syulang, the flower of his life, that grew roots so deep in his heart that they took up all the space and left no room for anything or anyone else, since the day his parents had decided to take you in.
Admittedly, it took Neteyam longer than he thought it would, to realize that the way he looked at you was different from the way he looked at his other siblings. He’s always been protective by nature, takes care of those who are dear to him. But not once had he felt the same kind of jealousy when Spider or Rotxo or whoever talked to his sister Kiri, than when boys came to talk to you. When it came to you, things were different.
Neteyam himself had started fooling around with girls his age relatively young. Kissing and touching, before he turned eighteen and realized how easy it is to get them on their hands and knees just for being the next olo’eyktan.
But when you came along, things took a sharp turn. Suddenly, those girls made him feel icky. Suddenly, he had never wanted to touch anybody as much as he wanted to touch you. But he knew that such a thing was out of the question, though, so he never tried to act upon his forbidden desires.
It was you, surprisingly, who came to him first. Crossing all lines of what Neteyam thought was considered right or wrong, just for you to confess a love that goes beyond what step siblings should feel for each other.
Anyways.
Date night means, all responsibilities fall to him. And while it’s usually dad that has trouble sleeping, that stays up until eywa know when, sitting in the space that’s reserved for crafting and such things to clean his assault rifle, it’s Neteyam who sits in this place tonight. Like being away for a night ultimately means that not being able to sleep is now his burden too.
Neteyam doesn’t know the reason to his. His stomach is full and he’s happy and content, should probably sleep like a baby. But he just can’t bring himself to rest.
He hears Lo’aks snoring pick up in the other room, and it makes him chuckle lightheartedly. He‘ll keep Tsireya in his prayers, once the two of them have finally mated and will share their own marui. Eywa help her find some sleep, once this snoring palulukan lays under her roof.
Neteyam smiles to himself. His fingers slowly grow tired as they move a woven thread back and forth, then through a pearl, tying a knot and repeat. At least some part of him feels the need to rest.
While his parents date night generally means that there will be more duties than usual in his daily routine, it also means that there is no one up in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours, giving him time and peace to be lost in his thoughts. And those thoughts roam around a certain someone, more than usual even.
Because date night also means, spending time with his precious syulang is now less risky than it is on any other day or any other night.
Quietly, Neteyam tips his head back to glance into the other room. He can vaguely make out your sleeping silhouette in the dark, laying in your hammock. Like a magnet to metal, he feels himself drawn to you, so he allows his body to move without his brain having much say in this.
Everyone‘s asleep and his parents aren’t there and it just feels good to act upon his desires without double questioning everything, wondering what fleeting touches he could allow himself without being looked at weird or having to find excuses to go to the forest together for at least some alone time.
The hammock dips, and then a warm body settles to lay behind you, curling around your smaller frame like you’re two fitting pieces of the same puzzle.
A soft sigh leaves your parted lips and Neteyam can’t help but press a kiss to the nape of your neck. His breath tickles your skin, and then you stir awake with a yawn.
"Teyam?", you murmur sleepily, glancing over your shoulder to be met with two half lidded, golden orbs staring back at you.
"M‘sorry, syulang", he whispers against the shell of your ear before pressing another kiss to your cheek. "Didn’t mean to wake you."
You mumble something incoherent that he can’t quite pick up, but then you’re stretching and your tail instinctively curls around his, and Neteyam knows you probably didn’t mean to– but your back arches into him, ass pressing against his crotch, and suddenly you’re not the one only stirring awake.
"Hmm, but since you’re already up, we could…", the words are muffled into the crook of your neck, followed by more, open mouthed kisses against your skin.
"Teyam", you giggle quietly, squirming when he nips at the lobe of your ear, "stop it."
Instead of listening, his arms close tighter around your middle, pulling your back closer to his chest. His hands skim over the bare skin of your stomach, over your thighs, your waist.
"You’re so warm", he mumbles, with both of his hands now sandwiched between your soft thighs. It makes you dizzy, the way he presses himself against you, how his hands can’t seem to stay still for even a second, roaming your body to caress and squeeze and grab whatever they can reach. Your breath hitches in your throat once you feel his fingertips brush the outline of your loincloth, following the cords between your thighs, hands cupping your cunt.
"T-The others", you finally find your voice again. Swallowing thickly, you whisper, "Lo’ak and Kiri, they will–"
But Neteyam is quick to cut you off, "The others are sleeping…" Another open mouthed kiss to your throat, tongue licking along your pulse point. "And I missed you. A lot."
It doesn’t seem like he was leaving you much room to argue, especially not, because his hands then dip past the waistband of your loincloth.
"I was with you the whole day", a smile pulls at your lips, eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his teasing fingers.
"Hmh, and I still missed my baby sister", he hums, "Missed kissing you… touching you…"
A gasp tumbles from your parted lips when one of his digits slides into you with ease, curling up where he knows it feels best for you.
"Always so wet for me", Neteyam whispers, "My perfect girl."
His breath is hot and damp against the skin of your neck, and he nudges his now fully hard cock against the small of your back and waits for the sign that tells him you feel the same want he does.
Neteyam can’t help but nuzzle up against the crook of your neck again, trace the edge of your ear with nose and lips, because he can never get enough of the way that sends a shiver through your body. Through his own body too, and then he presses the smallest, quietest kisses to your ear until you shivers again.
Neteyam is so close to you, that he can sense and know he caused the tremble in your limbs and breath.
Those small, trembling movements are what does it for him, the way you nudge your sleep-warm body against him, the arch of your back against his chest and crotch, the scrabble of delicate fingers as they fumble against his arm, looking for purchase, the brush of your soft hair against his cheek and the taste of your skin at the flick of his tongue against your throat, neck and shoulder.
"Teyaaam", you whine quietly, two of his slick fingers now scissoring you open and you writhe and squirm, pushing back harder against his cock in need.
This time, the shiver runs through him first and you gasp once, the sound quiet and sharp.
Neteyam knows that sound. Knows that means he could fit your bodies together even better, press himself inside you now. So naturally, that’s what he does.
It’s a clumsy mess of tangled limps, soft giggles and fleeting kisses before he manages to wriggle you and then himself free from any clothes. He keeps you flush against him, back pressed against his chest, angles your leg up and holds you open with a hand to the backside of your knee.
Neteyam slides into you easily. The stretch is familiar, good and pleasant, and you moan once he’s filled you entirely.
"Shh, I know", he coos softly, "but you have to be quiet for me, yes? Don’t want to wake the others, don’t you?"
You nod, then his hips move almost on instinct, back and then pushing forwards, thrusting into you. It’s slow and languid, with muffled groans pressed against your skin.
Neteyam wants it to last. Wants to stay like this forever, soft touches and warmth and the fond familiarity of your skin under his fingertips. But he can't resist that voice. Can't resist that desperate, pleading tone.
"P-Please Neteyam", you whimper softly, pushing back against him, "more, please. More, I want to come!"
He pushes forward, just that little bit harder, then shifts to clamp a hand over your mouth, shushing you when you’re unable to contain those little noises of pleasure.
"You feel so good, syulang, so good."
The slow drag of his shaft against your warm, wet and velvety-like walls makes Neteyams tail curl in enjoyment, and his eyes flutter close as he lets himself drown in the feeling of you. His teeth are clenched shut, biting down on his lower lip, because he was just as close to moaning out loud as you were.
But then you’re clamping down, hard, when his tip nudges against that special spot inside you and– just a little faster, his thrusts become just a tad harder, deeper.
There’s drool covering the inside of his hand, where he’s trying to keep your mouth shut, tongue lapping at his palm so he switches position, sticks two of his fingers into your mouth instead for you to suck on.
You’re so wet around him, wet around his fingers too now, sucking as eager as you would on his cock and the low groan that bubbles up his throat is almost too loud. Almost.
But Neteyam catches his breath quickly, busying his mouth with your throat instead, sucking and kissing and biting, never hard enough to leave any marks, but enough to keep himself from making too much noise.
Meanwhile your tongue swirls around his digits and he pushes them further in whenever he slides his cock out of you, then out when he thrusts forwards. It’s a constant rhythm, leaving you moaning around his fingers and squeezing around his cock.
Slow and steady, he repeats the words like a mantra, trying to calm himself. But his thrusts become deeper, harder as well. They knock the breath out of your lungs, little whimpers reaching his ears, until Neteyam has to cover you mouth again with a warning grunt.
All it would take was for Lo‘ak to wake and get water, and then he would hear the obvious, he would hear the faint squelching noises coming from the other room, would hear your little whimpers and pleas.
Neteyam wanted this to last, he really did. But the thrill of getting caught was a dangerous mix to the absolute heavenly feeling of your pussy convulsing around his length as you came. The soft squeak that you gave, the way that your legs trembled and your eyes rolled back, it was all that was needed to push him over the edge.
"Fuck, fuck, syulang, baby. I‘m– I‘m gonna come", he forces out, as quietly as possible. The hand over your mouth clamped down harder, like a warning before he started to thrust into you faster, barely able to contain himself anymore.
Just a few especially deep strokes were needed, and Neteyam felt his body and every last nerve in it fill with pleasure, before he came with a grunt, biting his tongue and pressing his face into the crook of your neck.
Taking his time, Neteyam lets his body come down slowly. He’s still pressing himself into you gently, continues to move a little, thrusting, and enjoys the slippery sensations this engenders. Traces kisses over your skin and tastes salt and sweetness on his tongue while he listens to the way your breathing slowly evens out.
A tender, "I love you", is whispered against the shell of your ear. Your response comes a little slurred, voice laced with sleep and barely incoherent, but it doesn’t really matter to him. There’s a smile on your lips as you fall back asleep, satisfied and content.
And finally, sleep tugs on his tired eyelids.
Neteyam suspects, as he drifts of to sleep, that in an hour or so, for the second time that day, he'll be the first to wake. He’ll have to get up and move to his own hammock, fall back asleep there, or not. And he’ll miss you again, from afar. Until date night comes around again.
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Let me just say, I absolutely adore your writing so much!! Your More Than Anything series with Vox is honestly one of, if not my favorite Vox series!!!❤💙 I was wondering if you could do a kind of silly, fluffy imagine with Vox where they're in their early stages of flirting/crushing and the reader avoids the topic of kissing... because they think Vox isn't able to kiss with his screen? Literally before episode 8, the question in my mind was "Can the dorky TV man kiss?" And then we got confirmation he most DEFINITELY could 🤣 I just think it'd be so cute and funny for that to be something the reader was wondering as well but wasn't sure how to ask him about it without being weird lol
Oh my goodness, such high praise aaaa! I actually have a scene in my Ao3 fic based on the same concept! I'd be happy to write some awkward smoochums! This guy is such a fucking dork and I love him.
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Assumptions [Vox x Reader Fluff]
You and Vox had been dating for a month and the overlord was on the verge of insanity. He knew that Valentino had much more intense needs when it came to physical affection than most, but he wasn't expecting such a drastic shift in needs when it came to you.
He knew that being in a real relationship was very different from what he'd experienced before with his fellow overlord. But he thought the two of you would have done something by now. Not even necessarily sex. (Although he'd definitely been fantasizing about that more than he cared to admit.)
The two of you had cuddled, slept in the same bed, and even h*ld h*nds, but you hadn't kissed yet and it wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd invited you on romantic dates and set up several perfect opportunities. But whenever he'd try to go for it, you'd always pull away before he had the chance.
He didn't understand. The two of you had been doing so well. You always seemed to be swept up in the little heated moments just as much as he was, so why?!
Vox had been completely distracted during his entire news segment and groaned as slipped into his secluded dressing room. If it wasn't for the fact that he caught sight of you in his mirror, he probably would have flipped out when he felt your arms slip around him from behind.
"What are you doing here?" he chuckled as he lifted a hand to rest on one of your arms.
"I missed you," you smile, squeezing him gently before letting go. "And I saw that..." you cringe. "Performance. You seemed off. Is something on your mind?"
Vox's eyes widened and he cursed himself mentally for putting on a subpar show in front of the camera. If you noticed, then the audience probably did as well. No one really gave half a fuck about the news, but ratings were ratings.
"It's nothing," Vox muttered. "It's just..."
He looks up at you with an unreadable expression and you gasp as he reaches up and gently takes hold of your chin. His brow furrows as he tucks your hair behind your ear and your heart races a million miles per second as he searches your blushing face for something. His eyes flick down to your lips and he slowly starts to lean, only for you to suddenly push him away.
"A-Anyways I just wanted to check in on you and see if we were still on for a movie tonight," you stammered.
Vox froze, not listening to your ramblings as he processed your deflection. He felt a sharp, cold sting of rejection in his chest and wondered if maybe you weren't as interested in the relationship as he hoped. His heart started to break, but then he noticed the way you were blushing.
"Why?" He asked quietly.
"Well, I just thought maybe you wanted to-"
"No," Vox grit his teeth as he grabbed you by the shoulders. "Why the fuck won't you kiss me? Every time I try, you pull away. We're dating, so why?"
You blinked up at him owlishly, your jaw hanging open before you grabbed his arms and breathed, "You can kiss?!"
Vox's brow furrowed as he looked you over, "Wh- The fuck are you on about? Yes, I can fucking kiss! I've been trying to kiss you for the past three goddamn weeks!"
You gasped before burying your face in your hands and groaning. "Oh my god, I thought... There were a couple times that I wondered, but this whole time I didn't think you could and I didn't want to be weird and..."
Vox stood taller as he processed your words. You didn't hate him. You weren't repulsed by him. You were just...
He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he absolutely lost it. "O-Oh my god! You're such a fucking idiot!"
Your face was burning with embarrassment. You knew he wasn't being malicious, but you were still mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault you're a flat-faced fucker!"
You were about to go bury your shame into the couch, fully expecting him to hold this against you for the rest of the day, but you were barely able to take two steps before Vox intervened.
You let out a startled yelp as you felt his claws wrap around your arm and yank you back. In the split second it took you to blink, he'd trapped you against a wall. You flinched as his hands slammed against either side of your head, trapping you as he grinned down at you.
"You are so fucking stupid," he snickered.
Your face only grew warmer as your heart pounded with mixed anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely due to the position he had you in. His hand traces lightly over your cheek before cupping the side of your face as he looks at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen from him.
You gasp as he leans down and presses his lips against yours. Your entire body feels like tiny fireworks are dancing lightly over your skin. You shiver as your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his vest when he pulls you close.
You're both breathing much harder than is necessary when he pulls away. For a moment you just look at each other with half-lidded gazes as you process the sparks that just metaphorically and literally flew. You were pretty sure a bulb went out due to the little bits of blue energy that sparked off of your boyfriend during the kiss.
Speaking of your dork, Vox breathlessly grinned as he squeezed your arms. He let out a small laugh before stepping away from you and turning as more little sparks flew.
"Fucking finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vox yelled as he pumped his arms in the air and kicked his legs like a giddy child.
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yanderismo · 2 months
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Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)
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BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 
— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 
— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).
— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.
 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.
— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.
 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 
— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 
— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.
 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.
 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 
— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)
— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.
 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 
— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 
— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.
— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 
— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 
— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 
— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 
— Batman can definitely help you solve this.
(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)
Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)
(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)
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prettyoatmeal · 11 months
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MORE John Price Headcanons While You're Dating
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Part 2 to this!
Since SO many people (like 4) were asking for me to do a part 2, here it is! Enjoy! A/N at the end!
Genre: Fluff! Smut after the buffer.
Summary: Just some more headcanons I've thought of. GN reader, no mentions of Y/N.
Content Warnings: NSFW After buffer.
Masterlist here!
***************
Big big big big boy.
He's quite muscular, got that meat on him (I mean, hell. Look at those shoulders). This means he needs to buy pretty large sized clothing for himself when he's out shopping.
This also means that they're a perfect size for you, able to very easily slide into a shirt of his and just wear that with how long it is on you.
They're just so comfy and baggy and cover you up so well, they're nice for when you don't feel like wearing something form fitting or if yours are in the wash.
John would definitely approve.
They'd smell like him, like home, how could you not wear them every now and again?
If you asked really nicely, John would get you a personal travel bottle of his cologne to keep on you at all times.
If you two are deployed, then he'd definitely pack a few extra shirts and sweaters of his because he knows you'll want some with you in the barracks. Maybe sleep in them or use them as a pillow case.
Seeing you in his clothes would definitely rile him up, seeing how the shirt gathers around your hips especially would leave a lasting effect on him. Expect his hands to be all over you.
You'd get the same reaction from him from wearing something more form fitting.
Wearing something that hugs your curves and shows off how great you look?
Oh boy.
It would drive him mad.
Would purposefully buy you shirts or those bike shorts in a half size too small and blame it on forgetting your size or being an 'accident' just to watch you try them on and gaze how the fabric squeezes around your chest and thighs.
Would definitely get heart eyes from that.
"John, are you sure this is my size?" as you finally pull the shirt over your chest, feeling how constricting the fabric is.
"Is or isn't, you look divine!"
If you wear a proper compression shirt, he'd probably die on the spot.
please please please please wear one.
No matter how thick or thin you are, he'd love every bit of how you look, and he'd definitely make that well known to you.
Definitely the kind to love playing with your hair, especially if it's long. He'd love braiding it, brushing it, running his fingers through it, literally anything,
Loves feeling how soft it is right after you wash it.
Will probably offer to help you dry it.
"Allow me," typa guy for sure.
He'd also be very big on communication.
He's had a lot of experience and has realised that bottling feelings up and keeping them locked away can only make the situations worse.
If you notice he's particularly upset, would always vent to you (If you're comfy w that of course) just to get how he's feeling out of the way, hoping it won't interfere with anything else.
Not one to pull the silent treatment, in fact, he hates it. If you're the kind to pull the silent treatment, he would egg it out of you one way or another.
"I'm too old for this, spit it out," in the kindest way possible.
He knows how draining it is physically and mentally to keep your emotions to yourself, so he'd always convince you to finally let it all loose.
Please tell him how you're feeling, especially if he's the person you're upset with. It breaks his heart seeing you upset and will 100% do everything in his power to make the situation right again.
The type to get grumpy or emotional when he's sleepy. Sometimes he just needs a soft chest or soft tummy to lay his head on and he'll be out like a light.
If you would let him sleep on top of you, that is. All that muscle would be pretty heavy so unless he knew you could take it, little spoon would do just fine for him.
Yeah, he'd love being little spoon. Loves feeling your arms pulling him deeper into your chest.
John is pretty dominant in a traditional sense, very masculine, a fierce leader, knows exactly what he wants and how he's going to get it, but he's also a massive softie and will do anything and everything to have your full attention when he's in the mood.
Yes, he wants to be little spoon, yes, he will also lead an army of men through a battlefield. They exist.
__________________
NSFW
He's an ass man, 100%.
Y'know how I said he'll 'accidentally' buy smaller sizes just to see how the material so perfectly forms itself to your curves?
Yeah, this is why.
Will grab and slap your ass at every chance he gets (with your consent, ofc) even in the most innocent of situations.
Whether you're bending down to pick up something you've dropped, over the kitchen counter while pulling something down from the top shelves, or just leaning over the dinner table to wipe it down, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Jolting you forward.
Loves to hear that high pitched, surprised shriek coming from your mouth at the sudden impact of his hand on your behind.
Backshots with him would be crazy, fingers intertwined with your hair, pushing your face into the mattress as he pounds into you from behind.
Doggy or reverse cowgirl would be his favourite positions because he just gets that full view of your ass jiggling with each bounce or each thrust from his hips.
Definitely wouldn't be gentle, but wouldn't be too rough either, that perfect balance.
Maybe a bit rougher when he's desperate or releasing some pent up stress, but all in all, he wouldn't dare to hurt you unless its the very occasionally slap on the ass or thighs.
I feel like it would be out of his comfort zone as well. Seeing how prominent his hand prints can be after spanking, seeing them on your face or anywhere else would probably make him upset during the process.
Spanking would be the furthest he'd go, making sure the skin is red and raw.
Would stop if he notices you're crying. Breaks his heart.
On the contrary, will gladly make you cry with his head between your legs. Feeling how you twitch against his mouth every time he makes you cum brings a smile to his lips.
VERY focused on making you cum first. Very focused on making sure you're comfortable ad satisfied all the way.
Definitely prefers to be dominant in bed, likes having that control.
Daddy kink probably.
He probably wouldn't make too much noise in bed, maybe a few groans and whines. But would for sure be a dirty talker.
"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?"
"Sucking daddy's cock- fuck, -so well, Gorgeous.."
"So fucking tight, aint ya. Mmh, fuck, keep squeezing around me like that, Dove."
Will only let out a classic moan for when he cums.
"That's it, gonna fill you up so good- ahh~!"
Surprising at first since he'd never made all that much sound before but the more you know.
Its totally hot though.
King of aftercare, tbh.
Would gladly carry you everywhere after you've become too sore to walk anywhere yourself.
Even if you can walk after a pounding, will still carry you. Gotta be treated like royalty after letting him slam into your holes like that.
Boy, did it feel good.
***************
I somehow accidentally deleted the first draft of this I made so this turned out a lot shorter than I first wanted it to :(
Also why it took so long lol. I swear, idk why my Tumblr is bugging so much but losing like 2k words after I've worked on it all day literally broke my heart.
Probably don't expect a part 3, but after having a few days to myself, my motivation has defo returned haha.
Goodnight!! <33
Tags: @mind-nine @tapioca-marzipan @underthestarwars @avalkyrieofparis
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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months
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Kinktober day 4
Hal Jordan + size difference
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Red lantern reader Raaaaaarrghhh 🦅 🦅 🦅 Reader is a Czarnian, cuz Lobo is hot, so the reader is hot 🗣️
Not as long as my usual writing, but i got twice as much homework as normal lately so im amazed i even got writing done today.
Kinktober 2023 masterlist
There were few beings across the galaxy that left the green lanterns fumbling, and you were one of them. As Czarnians could only be killed by others of their species, and the fact that you and Lobo were something akin to friends, they could do nothing but contain you when they could capture you. Not that they were able to do that most days, as your hulking height and muscular build wasn’t just for show. Your skill with your ring only served to make you an even bigger foe.
It was your extreme skill and somehow cold and calculated mind even as a red lantern, that made you a nightmare to deal with. Many lanterns would flee battles barely conscious and would need months of physical and even mental therapy, some would not even return. You were one of the only two violent Czarnians, besides Lobo that is, and your blood thirst and seemingly iron tight control of your rage had many living beings shaking at the mere thought of you.
So how did Hal find himself in his current position, his arms hanging limply by his side as your large powerful hands grasped the underside of his knees, his back against your chest. Hal was sure hed heard of this position at some point, probably from Guy in all his showboating, a full nelson, he called it. And now Hal was in that very position, choked gasps and gargled moans leaving him, his head falling back against your wide muscular chest as your strength alone lifted him up and down on the monster you called a cock.
Maybe it had started as a fight, or a spar, or even just a chase across the stars, but one thing led to another and now Hal was being taken in a way he had never imagined before. If his eyes weren't welling with tears of pleasure and disbelief, he was sure he would be seeing a bulge through his stomach whenever you thrust inside. From what he could feel you weren’t even fully inside, and the taunting chuckle from behind him confirmed it as you grunted that he shouldn’t be acting so slutty already as you only had about half of your length inside him.
The bottom of Hals suit was gone, a gift of the lantern ring, your own only gone enough to drag your length and sack out so you could fuck into the human lantern. A loud wail that might have been a moan left Hal as you focused your attention on the bundle of nerves inside him, grinding into his prostate hard enough that Hal was seeing white, his cock twitching and spurting come out into the empty space in front of the two of you. The deep chuckle that left you made your chest rumble against Hals back, sending another shiver down his spine as his own length gave a feeble twitch, already trying to get hard again.
He felt like a toy as you dragged him up and down your length, his suit receding off his neck and shoulders as your sharpened canines dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood, your large tongue running up the length of Hals neck to wipe the metallic red liquid away as fast as it came. Hal let out a weak grunt as his entire body tensed, another orgasm washing through him, his length only releasing a few spurts. But it didn’t seem to slow you down whatsoever as you kept your pace, your taunting chuckle and words still going as the green lantern shook and moaned.
Hal had no idea how long it went on, but at some point, he had started to lose his vision as everything went blurry, a pleasant burn running through his body as he came for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, his sack completely empty causing him to have an empty orgasm. His body would tense, he would tighten up around you, but nothing would leave his dick, only more drool would run down his chin as he gagged and moaned for you.
As your large strong fingers pressed between his lips Hal found himself sucking on them sloppily, like his body couldn’t fully keep up with what his mind wanted him to do. He didn’t understand the language you cursed in as you came, and he didn’t have the brainpower to use his ring to translate it. His stomach felt tight as you filled him, white running out around your length as it overflowed, Hal whimpering at the feeling as he tried to commit it to memory.
Hal must have passed out as you reached for his length, pulling on it till his entire body tensed and shook through another finish, his head reeling and his eyes rolling back. He even thought it might have been a dream, if it wasn’t for his lower body killing him and what looked like the space version of a phone number left in his ring. You had even been polite enough to leave him in the space equivalent of a hotel room, and a high priced one too. Maybe the true way to contain your rage was a good fuck, Hal would have to fight you on his own a couple more times to make sure.
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jiminxoxo · 1 year
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seventeen and their love languages <3
(!!! put as a warning for swearing unless stated otherwise)
choi seungcheol - acts of service + physical touch
so so SO protective oh my god 😭 but his love for you is so pure. no matter how busy his schedule is, he always finds a way to incorporate you. he’ll either make it a point to let you know whenever he’s busy so you’re not waiting up for him or literally tells his manager to pull over when he’s near your house and sprint over to see you for two mere seconds. you say he’s a bit obsessed (of course in a playful way, but also, he really is obsessed) and he always tries to defend himself but eventually let’s himself take the fall. for one, he can never stay mad at you no matter how hard he tries and two, well, you’re you. how can he not be obsessed with you?
“what if i told you i was outside?” he sighs into the phone, kicking a nearby rock and trying his best to bundle himself in this cold cold weather.
“seungcheol?!” you half whisper yet practically exclaim. he’s so unbelievable, but why does it bring the warmest feeling to your cheeks? “what are you doing outside at this time? don’t you have practice right about now?” you place your phone down briefly to wish the leaving customer a good day, only to see your marshmallow of a boyfriend walk in. you make a mental note to thank your lucky stars that there’s no one else on the building.
he’s in his padded jacket with multiple layers underneath. you can barely see his face that’s hidden behind the mask, but the overdramatized outfit is enough for you to tell who it is. it wasn’t that cold out.
“can i get an iced americano?” he pulls the mask down and you chuckle. “and also maybe a date once you’re off work?”
you should be used to this by now. he’s the type of guy to surprise you any chance he gets. “a date?” you repeat, watching as his hand searches for yours from over the counter. he nods, tilting his head the side slightly as if asking you again.
“what do you have planned?” you ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. he grins, taking that as a yes.
“i just want to stay in with you today. we don’t have to do anything” he suggests.
you take a second to think, “then nothing it is”
“why is seungkwan cursing at you in the group chat?”
“oh my god, you distracted me” he panics, “i forgot to give him his iced americano”
“oh so this is my fault?”
“of course not honey, i love you”
yoon jeonghan - words of affirmation + quality time
jeonghan is such a delight. your love is so young and playful, never losing its fun. he also knows you alarmingly so well. you’re insecure? he’s right by your side and listing his favourite things about you (with an occasional embarrassing fact about himself here and there because he can’t seem to help himself when it comes to making you feel better). you’re annoyed because he pranked you again? he’s playfully looking at you and telling you that you shouldn’t be surprised anymore. you’re roasting him? he probably roasted you first LMAOOO. words of affirmation via soft roasts 👍 but i think no matter how often he may tease you or joke around, he’s never one to take it too far. he’s so respectful of your boundaries and makes it very clear that your feelings are what matter first to him. communication is so important to him (please don’t make me continue cus I’ll start to violently sob)
“they were totally flirting with you,” you mumble, tossing your keys on the counter. scratch that, more like slamming them. you couldn’t seem to help it though. not when your boyfriend couldn’t figure out why exactly you were upset.
“darling they weren’t flirting, they were just being friendly” he reasons after shrugging his jacket off, now fiddling with his watch. normally you’d help him take it off, but you’d rather watch him struggle to unclip it from across the room.
“friendly.” you scoff, finally caving in and helping him take off his stupid watch, actively trying to avoid eye contact with your stupid boyfriend who’s looking at you with a stupid smile—
“are you…. jealous?” he’s grinning.
you roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “no,”
“you totally are!” he’s practically beaming now. you were never one to get jealous. he figured it was because you trusted him, and you do. but in all honesty, he’s never given you a reason to be jealous. not until today. “you know i never would have even noticed right? i may have been talking to someone else, but you were on my mind the whole time. you have absolutely nothing to worry about, honey. i honestly didn’t even know you could even get jealous considering how loyal i am-“
“shut up,” you mutter, attempting to walk away but ultimately being pulled back to face him once again.
“make me.” he teases, holding up his pinky, “i promise i won’t tell anyone that you were jealous”
“you’re an idiot,” you say, stepping forward into his embrace, to which he happily sways the both of you side to side.
“you’re lucky i didn’t even realize they were flirting with me,” he starts waddling the both of you to the couch, “otherwise i would’ve accidentally exposed our relationship.”
“you totally wouldn’t have,”
“you’re right, i wouldn’t.” he laughs, “i’m saving that announcement for our marriage”
“jeonghan!”
!!! joshua hong - gift giving + quality time
sigh. he doesn’t call himself a gentleman for no reason. dating him is straight up like it’s from a movie. he’s attentive and just overall so respectful to not only you but to your relationship as well. he doesn’t even try to make your relationship seem so picture-perfect, it all just comes naturally. ofc there are gonna be bumps in the road but he’s always going to remind you that he’d rather fight and try to work it out with you than move onto somebody else. he thinks you’re worth every hardship. he allows himself to break down every barrier whenever you're around, just letting him be himself. is he perfect? no. will there be bumps in the road? probably lmao. but will he fight like hell to make sure you know that his heart belongs to you? damn straight.
“it’s rude to stare, you know,” you start, eyes not even leaving the magazine you were flipping through. you could feel his piercing gaze from a mile away.
his chuckle is heard from the other end of the bed as he ventures closer to you, your once comfy position is now maneuvered for the both of you to view the catalogue in your hands.
“staring? more like admiring.”
you roll your eyes, putting the magazine down briefly. his eyes are playful as they stare down at you, while you return his gaze with a really? that’s all you got?
“what? i can’t admire my fiancé?” he sighs while leaning closer to you, never letting himself get tired of that word. fiancé. it just has the best ring to it, especially knowing that you’re his and he’s yours.
“not when they’re trying to decide on something that will make or break the marriage,” you retort, pushing his face that was inching closer to yours away to view the catalogue once again.
“since when did the floral arrangements decide the course of our marriage?” he’s dumbstruck. leave it up to you to keep him on his toes.
“they don’t. i was just testing you to see if you actually cared about what i was looking at.” you’re laughing at the playful look of hurt on his face. “i’m kidding, you’re probably stressing over the flowers more than i am.”
“maybe,” he shrugs, slipping out of your warm embrace. he’s shuffling around the room for a bit, finally deciding to stand beside you with his hands hidden behind him, “or maybe what matters more to me right now is that you like these flowers?” he whips out a bouquet from behind him. how he even managed to sneak them into the room is beyond you.
“oh my god,” you breathe, “fuck the flowers at the reception, this is definitely more important right now.”
“you know, i think you’re the prettiest-“
“if you say i’m the prettiest flower josh, i swear to god the wedding is off.”
wen junhui - quality time + words of affirmation
i think it’s safe to say that I probably had the hardest time figuring out what sort of love language he is. not only is he the literal definition of the word love, but he also just has the purest of souls. this is your world and he is just living in it. the type of guy to raise a boombox over his head outside your window to confess his dying love to you... :( also probably kicks his legs back and forth while texting you or something LMAOOOOOO his favourite moment with you, you may ask? probably when he’s teaching you to dance one of their choreographies. you’re shy and definitely a bit clumsy but he can’t help but he absolutely enchanted by you (and in his words, ‘put hoshi to shame’) just loves the fact that you’re interested in something he loves. it doesn’t take much to make him happy to be honest, so you don’t even have to try. you being there makes him over the moon.
“its late,” you remind him, glancing at the clock on your microwave. “you should sleep now,” you’re on the phone with your boyfriend who’s just flown out of the country and back within the last 9 hours, never mind all the schedules inbetween. anyone would be exhausted.
he’s not complaining though, he never does. if anything, he’d rather stay on the phone with you than rest. “says the person who’s still up, trying to finish the thesis for class.”
you roll your eyes as you finish making your sandwich. he’s got a point, but you’d never admit that. “shut up,” you retort before taking a bite. once you finish putting the ingredients away, you head back to your room.
he’s smiling on the other side of the line, knowing fully well that you don’t have an argument against him. “are you almost done?” he asks, silently signalling a thank you to his manager who was willing to drive him over at this time. he exits the car and makes his way to the entrance of the building. the faster he gets to you, the faster he can convince you to shut your laptop off and head to bed.
he knows you’d never listen to him if he wasn’t physically there beside you. it was exasperating at first but overtime he came to realize that your thick skull actually made your relationship just that much stronger. after all, he drove over just to surprise you, didn’t he?
“almost,” you sigh, adjusting your glasses. “this thesis is a pain in the ass. it’s taken every living cell in my body to not curse my prof out. who assigns a gazillion word thesis and expects it to be done in a day and a half?”
he chuckles, exiting the elevator and heads straight to you apartment. “someone who clearly isn’t scared of your wrath. by the way, can you open the door?”
you halt your typing and stare at your phone placed beside your laptop. surely you didn’t hear him correctly… right?
“yes, i’m really here,” he doesn’t hear you as you hurriedly jump out of your chair, stumbling your way across your apartment. “and.. maybe im a bit tired. so i would really appreciate it if you open the d—“
you’re swinging the door open before he could finish his sentence, “you’re here,” you exhale, accepting him into your embrace.
“always. and i’m also taking you straight to bed. why are you looking at me like that? we’re going to sleep!”
!!! + brief mentioning of alcohol
kwon soonyoung - words of affirmation + gift giving
your very very personal hypeman!! always uplifting you whenever you’re feeling even just a teeny bit insecure. i see him as being a spontaneous gift giver. i mean, have you seen his wardrobe?? will spoil you rotten with the most lavish gifts. that being said, he didn’t get you these gifts for the materialistic aspect, but he just wants you to know that he (pardon me) fucking adores you and wants you to know he will go extreme measures to show you. i think he would have a hard time expressing the right words on how he actually feels about you. (you both can tell he feels a lot, it’s just the matter of how he would form it into words is what he can’t seem to do) but there's one thing for sure, this boy is a SIMP. he is a simp and will admit it to anyone proudly.
if someone were to ask you what the most memorable dates with him were, you’d simply answer with:
sneaking out to your backyard late at night and watching as his eyes glimmer with happiness while lighting the fireworks (and almost getting caught when your neighbour barges out his door, searching for the culprit)
surprising him at one of his tour stops
winding down for the night after a particularly hard day and basking in each others company (technically not a date but hey, it counts)
if he had to answer that same question, his answers would be:
dragging you to the zoo and — ding ding ding! — taking you to the tiger sanctuary
drunkenly singing love songs to each other at karaoke… in front of the rest of the boys
introducing you to said boys
unanimously, it’s decided that your first date is hard to beat in terms of favourites.
he isn’t sure why he had even thought of suggesting to go hiking for your first date but is equally as surprised when you had reluctantly agreed.
the first 40 minute hike up was filled with lots of curses in his direction, to which he blissfully ignores due to the fact that you were holding his hand. how can he pay attention when all of it is zeroed in on the fact that he's telling him brain to not get his hand clammy?
the hike down was unfortunately the problem though. after foolishly suggesting to race down the hill, (he can’t even defend himself at this point) you had agreed, only because you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. after a moment where you swore you were beating him, you didn’t see a tree branch on the ground and stepped down a bit funny resulting in even more cursing but for a completely different reason.
it was all a blur. him panicking, you clutching your ankle for dear life and him panicking even more after seeing how quickly it was starting to swell. after a quick visit to the ER and a pinky promise to never mention this date to anyone ever, he spent the remainder of the day piggybacking you around all the spots he had still planned for the date.
despite all that though, you had still decided to go on another date with him. hell, you had decided to be exclusive with him.
it was all oddly charming in a way, and you could have never asked for a better date.
hiking is still banned though.
jeon wonwoo - quality time + acts of service
type of lover who is simply there for you with no words needed. a comforting love that's filled with quiet hand holding and blushing as you gaze into each others eyes. he's patient, letting you let out your spur of the moment thoughts while he sits back and admires, constantly thinking to himself that he could never love and adore anyone as much as he does you. his inner extrovertedness definitely comes out when you're around - he allows himself to feel giddy like a teenage schoolgirl falling for her first crush. also, this is my personal opinion - he is very protective over you. if not, the most protective compared to the rest of the boys. 1. you’re his. 2. he doesn’t really like to share. 3. there is no three. sunshine (you) and sunshine protector (him) type beat (get it? because you're his sunshine)
the hype around the first snowfall of the year had always been a bit frivolous to you. as you walk down the rather busy road to head back to your warm apartment, you pass by dozens of couples who are buzzing at the unexpected flakes falling from the sky.
you sigh, thinking of your own lover who would’ve totally agreed with your comment. if someone’s love will last, it has nothing to do with a first snowfall… right?
wonwoo was set to come home in a couple of weeks. that you could tolerate, but the thought of him having to bundle up more than the average person in this specific weather once he’s gets home leaves a pang in your heart. before you know it, your fingers are navigating through your phone to a familiar contact.
you - it’s snowing back home… i hope it’s not too cold where you are
he’s not the best texter, but to your surprise, he replies to your message right away.
him - It’s snowing where I am too.
you let out a snort at his short yet blunt text. again, he’s not the best texter but he definitely tries his best.
pocketing your phone, you turn the last corner you need to, your apartment building now in sight. you figured calling him would be better, but you’d rather do that once you’re settled and comfortable at home.
until it dawned on you.
you - it’s snowing in jakarta right now?
he reads your message but doesn’t respond causing your heart to speed up in pace. there’s absolutely no way.
after practically sprinting to your door, you stop to catch your breath quickly in front of it. it’s okay. you’ll call him and confirm where he is. if he’s home - which you’re trying not to think about too much so you’re not too disappointed if he wasn’t - you’ll bus to where he was. or maybe you could uber?
“hey.” you hadn’t even noticed your door swinging open, revealing your boyfriend dressed in his padded jacket.
you gawk at him, pushing his shoulder with a shout, “i cannot believe you fooled me!”
“i told you we were busy this morning,” he laughs, grabbing your arm to pull you into his embrace.
“busy as in at the airport and on a plane?” he lets out another breathless laugh as you look at him in disbelief, “wait, where are you taking me?”
as you finish your last sentence, he’s already ushering you out a little further and closes the door behind him, leading you to the elevator. “its the first snow,” he says once you’ve finally made it outside. “i know what you’re thinking. the first snow isn’t an accurate representation of how long we’ll be in love, and i know we’ll be in love for a long time, snow or not. but i don’t care, i want to spend it with you.”
you’re not sure if it’s the sincerity of his voice that causes you to blush or the fact that he’s so confident in his feelings. there’s one thing you’re sure of though.
jeon wonwoo is the embodiment of the feeling people get when the first snow happens. an airy sort of feeling, excitement and.. love.
so yeah, it’s kind of hard not to love the first snowfall when wonwoo was with you.
lee jihoon - quality time + gift giving
😭😭😭!! jihoon is just so…… !!!!! definitely has a hard time expressing how he feels about you, but it’s so consuming that he has to let it out somehow. in my eyes, he’s a gift giver (and just lover in general) in the form of music. he’ll do small things like hum certain songs that remind him of you when you’re around to making playlists for your five hour road trip to literally writing a whole album about you (will he ever show it to you? maybe. will he literally spend many hours making it and creating the cover art because he’s just that passionate about your relationship? absolutely.) he gets a bit carried away but he can never seem to help it, he’s absolutely whipped for you, and when he’s in love he’s in LOVE
“one second, wait here” you say, jumping up from your comfy position in front of him and leaving him with a questioning look on his face. you seem a bit eager compared to your previous complaints about being exhausted.
to be fair, he never was one to like celebrating birthdays. he likes to keep the gathering as small as possible (but definitely doesn’t mind the presents). it’s more genuine that way he thinks, him surrounded by all the people he truly loves is something he much rather prefers.
it’s late into the night and probably past his birthday at this point, the two of you just returning from his birthday dinner that was held with some of his dear friends and family. he’s quiet- with a lingering smile playing on his lips- but happy.
after a couple minutes without you retuning, he lets out a small scoff. you’re definitely up to no good. “one second my ass” he chuckles to himself.
he’s about to get up from the bed, but is stopped when a soft light illuminates the room and he’s face to face with your bashful smile.
you’re there. standing in front of him with a cake that was probably made from scratch and softly singing him happy birthday. he can’t seem to bring out any words after you’re done. you’re peering at him and quietly telling him to make a wish, but what more does he need to wish for? he has everything he needs right in front of him. he hesitates for a second but complies, wishing for absolutely nothing to ever change.
he finally understands. he’s sang to you millions of times and you’ve never failed to remind him how much you love his voice. he thought you were just saying that to say it, but after listening to you sing with the softness and comfortability with just the two of you there, he could listen to you sing for hours.
“happy birth- I just realized what time it is. I didn’t really think this through did i? whatever. happy birthday jihoon, I love you” you’re both laughing, love just radiating off one another. this is the best birthday he could’ve ever asked for.
lee seokmin - literally all 5
first off i want to apologize to all the seokmin stans out there because i just know you want to beat me up through the internet right now. he’s just!!! so!!!! lovely!!!! just a ☀️💗💖 type of person. he himself confirmed words of affirmation (surprise surprise) but who is he kidding??? that man is the literal embodiment of all the love languages. he’s always reminding you how loveable you are, especially in the moments where your insecurities are getting the best of you. he will show you love in its purest form, and will never ever let you forget that you mean the world to him.
you can feel his eyes on you as you comfortably sit beside him, placing your legs over his. “so i was thinking,” he starts, tapping his finger on his chin.
oh no. nothing good ever happens when he starts with that. “yes?” you hum, tearing your gaze away from the tv to focus all your attention on him.
“i know you’ve met the members before, but do you think, maybe, i can meet your friends and family and you can meet mine?” he stumbles over a few words and starts playing with your hands to busy himself. “i love you. and honestly, i just want all the important people in my life to meet you and adore you as much as i do.” he pauses before letting out a chuckle, “well, maybe a bit less, because i adore you the most.”
you’re quiet. it’s not that you don’t want him to meet your loved ones because god, of course you do, but how are you supposed to explain that you want to keep him in this little bubble?
this bubble of love and joy. you know it’s selfish, wanting to hide him away from the world and just let the two of you be the two of you. without the judgement of anyone else. dokyeom is a very understanding person and has never once judged you. so why is this so hard to admit to him?
his eyes are patient as they gaze at you. he’s trying to read the expression on your face but it doesn’t seem to work, “of course, if this is something you’re not comfortable with, we can always reintroduce it down the road,”
you shake your head, removing your hand from his to hold his cheek. his eyes close as he leans into your touch. “i’d love to meet your friends and family, seok,” you whisper, connecting your foreheads together, “i was scared at first because i don’t like the thought of people having their assumptions about our relationship but i can see this is really important to you,” you pull back to look at him. he who is looking at you like you could rearrange the stars in the sky. “and i just realized that the only opinion i should care about is ours.”
“you know what? let’s just stay like this for a bit,” his eyes are understanding as he inches a bit closer to you, almost as if he can’t seem to help it, “i want to keep you to myself for a little longer. just you and me.”
“are you sure?” you ask only because his conclusion is so vastly different from his initial proposal. “we’ve been dating for the last couple months and my friends have definitely been nagging at me to meet my boyfriend that I keep talking about”
“i’m sure.” he seals it with a peck to your lips, “besides, your comfortability is what matters most to me. if your friends love you, they’ll understand,” he says, “but they better not love you more than I do…”
kim mingyu - physical touch + words of affirmation (confirmed) + acts of service (confirmed)
two words. puppy. love. he’s just….. so down bad for you, need i say more? if you give him a piece of your heart, he will give you the world type of relationship. with mingyu, there is never a dull moment. constantly laughing with each other and allowing your inner child to heal with him in your presence. is a simp and is PROUD about it... but also tries to deny it? its funny, because everyone knows damn well what kind of lover he is. super sweet, super affectionate, maybe a little immature... you know it, he knows it, his members sure as hell knows it. but the second they try to tease him, he's denying all their allegations. he doesn't really want them knowing that you're his soft spot in human form - after all, they'd just use it to their advantage - but from the way he glances so dotingly at you, is he really fooling anyone?
“is that my hoodie?” he’s grinning as he widens the door just a smidge to lean against the doorframe.
you know he’s getting a kick out of this and you let him have his moment before adding, “gyu, you asked me to wear it,”
he shushes you while taking your arm to guide you in and shutting the door behind you. “thanks for coming,” he softly says and watches as you cross the room to sit on the couch.
again, you let him have his moment before turning to face him with an exasperated look, “well, i figured it was the least i could do after you texted ‘SOS’ to me about a hundred times,”
he lets out a hearty laugh as he sits beside you, completely unashamed of his tactics to get you here. “in all seriousness though,” he rises, presenting his hand in front of your face for you to grab, “i made a new dish to try and i want to know what you think.”
once you join your hands together, he drags the both of you to the kitchen, letting you take a seat while he places the finishing touches to your dish.
he’s watching you as you eat, eyes shining while you continuously compliment him on his culinary skills across the table. getting up, he ditches his food — not that he had even touched his plate in the first place — and ventured around the table, dragging a chair a bit closer in your direction just to plop beside you. he places his arm on the table and rests his chin on his hand, “tell me more,” he quietly murmurs, lifting his free hand to softly brush some hair away from your face.
you gently place your fork down on your plate and grab a tissue to dab your mouth. finding your actions oddly adorable, he moves to wrap his hand around the arm of your chair just to draw you closer. “well,” you start, “you know i love your cooking. you’re so talented, gyu. i don't know how you managed to get these ingredients that are amazing on their own and made them into something special together.”
he beams at your comment. “i think you just described us perfectly,”
you tilt your head, just a little confused on what he meant.
grabbing your hand, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm before lifting it to his cheek just for him to lean on. he closes his eyes, savouring this moment before adding, “great on their own. something special when together.”
-
"can i be the truffle or something?"
"eh, you're more of a raw onion if i had to choose- ow!"
xu minghao - quality time + gift giving (confirmed) + acts of service (confirmed)
don’t even let me get started on this man. he is 100% written by a woman, i cannot stress this enough. the amount of love he would hold for you is ridiculous - there are tears streaming down my cheeks as i write this btw. so in tune with his emotions and probably so attentive to yours as well. i know the words of affirmation and acts of service are confirmed (💔) but i personally feel so strongly about the quality time part. many of your nights consist of just basking in each others presence and just straight serenity. i can’t express into words on how magical your relationship would feel. xu minghao has the most beautiful heart and yours is definitely safe with him.
“do you ever feel like,” you pause as he tilts his head down ever so slightly to gaze softly at you, “i don’t know, that you’re so burnt out and there’s nothing that can help you?”
you’re both laying down in bed with your limbs tangled under the sheets. between both your schedules, it’s near impossible to have moments like these. domestic moments that you’ve come to miss even while he’s beside you right now. it’s the crack of dawn and you’ve only been together like this for mere minutes, it’s never long enough though.
he nods before squeezing you lightly against him. “all the time.” he sighs, “especially when i know that i’m unable to see you for a while,”
“me too,” you agree. your relationship is anything but needy. you both appreciate your independence, but it’d also be a big fat lie if you said being apart from him was a nice feeling. over the years, the two of you had found your ways to make it work, but the longing is always there whenever you’re apart. “when do you have to go?” you ask, leaning over to take a look at the clock behind you.
“did you really have to remind me that our time together right now is super limited?” he teases, softly pulling you back into his embrace.
“when is it not?” you say with a chuckle. you’re only joking and he knows that, but he can’t help but feel guilty as he analyzes you. your mood had definitely gone down just a bit after a moment of silence.
“do you think they’d believe me if i called in sick?” he’s poking at your side to hopefully lighten up the mood. when his attempt is successful and he sees your smile, he mentally gives himself a pat on the back.
“cheol would have your head if you’re late to practice,”
“if i were late to practice, it’s not seungcheol who i would be scared of to be honest..”
you hum while tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “hoshi,” you both say in unison before letting out hushed laughter.
as you settle down, he brushes some hair away from your face, his expression morphing into something more sincere. “thank you for always begging patient with me and my schedule. i feel like i would’ve given up a long time ago if you weren’t around.”
“good thing i’m staying then,” you hum before adding, “watching you do what you love makes me insanely proud. i don’t care about your schedule, even if it allows us only twenty minutes every four days.”
“speak for yourself-“ he’s interrupted when his phone obnoxiously blasts his alarm tone, indicating that your time together is now up. to your surprise, he gets up only to snooze it and goes to lay back down beside you, closing his eyes for a bit.
feeling your questioning gaze on him, he peeks an eye open to look at you and decides to hide himself in the crook of your neck, “hoshi wouldn’t believe me if i said i was sick,” his voice is muffled, but you can hear the mischief in it, “but he’d believe me if i said i slept in.”
boo seungkwan - words of affirmation + gift giving
omfg. this man. not only is he your best friend, but he’s your personal hype man who is somehow still so shy at telling you how much you mean to him. definitely an old couple type of love with your fair share of old couple bantering. i think it’s quite adorable. man,,,,, HES adorable 😭😭😭 the type of gift giver where he can think of the most obscene reason on why you have to have it. a random bottle opener? pretty sure yours broke seven months ago. a backpack? this one has a tangerine charm on it!!! definitely gets defensive when you tell him to save his money and yet throws the biggest fit when you get him something nice in return. prepare to lose every playful argument the two of you have, that unless, he lets you win (never admitting the fact that he is so down bad that he’d do anything to see you with that winning smile)
seungkwan definitely likes to catch you by surprise, especially after his visits to his hometown.
he’s unloading his suitcase in your shared bedroom having just returned from his trip back home for the weekend. the glow on his cheeks is something truly special, and you have the pleasure of seeing it while he raves of his time back in jeju.
“so my mom made me haul this large bag of tangerines over to you.” he says, a little disapprovingly at that. the more you think about it, the more that you think the act of gift giving may run in his family. “wanna share?”
you scoff, snatching the bag he was holding to hide behind your back. “you’ve had enough tangerines in your lifetime. this bag is mine.”
eyes wide, he points an accusing finger in your direction. “you wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for me!”
sticking out a finger of your own, you start running before he could catch you, knowing how riled up he could get. your attempt to run is sadly not fast enough since he’s already latched onto you and poking jabs at your most ticklish spots. he can’t help but laugh along, drinking up the noises bubbling out of your chest.
-
“thank you for the bag of tangerines. seungkwan said you made him haul a huge bag just for me.” you say to his mom over the video call, watching as her warm smile morphs into a knowing one.
“honey, i may have gotten him to bring them to you, but it was all him.”
you blink, turning your face to look at his sleeping figure. tomorrow would be back to reality for him. you had suggested that him sleeping early tonight would be best since it wasn’t necessarily something he had the luxury of doing everyday. he put up a fight at first; insisting that he wanted to spend more time with you, but it’s not even ten minutes later when you see him snoozing away after you had slipped out of the room to fetch him some tea.
“all him?” you repeat.
“the day he was set to leave, he woke up extra early to beat everyone to the market. he’ll deny it if you ask, but i know he went to pick the best ones for you. i may have suggested for him to bring a couple, but he insisted on filling a large bag since they’re your favourite.”
you blink again, not expecting the sudden confession.
“he loves you, you know.” she softly adds, watching you through the screen as you tenderly gaze at her son. “there wasn’t one day where he didn’t talk about you.”
what she doesn’t know, is that you watch as a light blush dust his cheeks. stroking his hair, you glance back to the screen, knowing seungkwan would’ve been too shy to say anything if he were awake so you let him believe the thought of you thinking he was still asleep.
you’re proven wrong when his hand gently grabs yours, giving it a tight squeeze. an action that is worth a thousand words.
!!! vernon chwe - quality time + words of affirmation
being in a relationship with this man is probably the most secure relationship you will ever be in, no if ands or buts. not only is he literally just the chillest mf to ever live, he also enjoys life to the fullest. activities with him could literally vary by the hour depending on his mood. vernon is always reminding you to be grateful for what you have, (cue him constantly telling you how thankful he is for you and how you mean so much to him). the two of you would absolutely have a best friend sort of relationship, and he just adores it.
there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as he drives you home from the small gathering you both attended. he’s softly humming, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel every so often and you— well, you’re watching him. not in a hey-i’m-a-creeper way but more of a hey-i’m-actually-so-whipped-for-you sort of way.
his eyes are glued to the road but he knows. he has to know. you’re just sitting there blatantly staring at him but he makes no sign of uneasiness. in fact, he reaches blindly for your hand after a bit, using your intertwined hands to drum the middle console.
he’s cranking up the volume with a lopsided smile the second he hears your laughter, just in love with the fact that it’s so easy to make you happy. having nothing but the smallest clue that what really is making you happy are these little moments with him.
“really?” you’re snickering as soon as the next song plays. “baby by justin bieber?”
“yeah, really.” he glances at you for a second before returning them back on the road, his hand giving yours a light squeeze. “what, it’s not in your love songs playlist?”
“isn’t this song about his partner not loving him back?” you’re now on your phone, analyzing the lyrics that are indeed about his broken heart.
vernon on the other side is left speechless. how is he supposed to move on from the fact that his number one love song is actually not a love song? he’s probably sang it hundreds of times and half the time, you were there right beside him singing with him. his best memories lie with this song.
what the hell is he supposed to do now?
“don’t worry baby,” of course you call him that at a time like this. “we can still sing this at karaoke to each other while your voice cracks every so often”
“hey!” he lets go of your hand to point a playful finger at you, “i’ll have you know, i was singing an adlib that was out of my vocal range and my voice has only cracked once.”
you roll your eyes, not even attempting to fight back with him. in the years the two of you have been dating, by now you know better than to get him heated over (arguably) the greatest hit of the early 21st century.
“it’s okay,” he says after another short minute of silence, listening as the song rolls to an end and grabbing your hand once again, “we’re nothing like this song, right?”
you grin, “not even in the slightest.”
thank god.
lee chan - physical touch + acts of service (confirmed)
literal definition of young love. this man no doubt will always keep you smiling and laughing (like literally his first instinct when he sees that you’re upset is to make you smile, he can’t bear it when you’re sad). it’s also the way he says his love language is writing???? yup you’ll never hear from me again lmao. its refreshing to think that he would most definitely try to win you over using old-school tactics. walking to your door on your first date and meeting your parents briefly (who by the way, probably love him more than you do). chan is definitely a person with soooo much love to give and never EVER let’s you forget that it’s all yours to have. </3
it’s official, you hate your home. okay, maaaaybe that’s a small stretch..
you hate that your home is thousands of miles from your boyfriend.
after returning home from the tear filled car ride from the airport, you trudge your way across your apartment, not even bothering to clean up the mess that was left behind a couple hours prior. it’s where you and chan had made your last breakfast for a while together, and the thought of it made a new wave of tears fill your eyes.
as you head to your room, you find yourself catching small glimpses of your boyfriend and the mere memories he left here. how is it fair that he managed to squeeze his way into your heart and is able to take a little bits and pieces every time you’re apart? cheesy, you think, but true.
after reaching your room, you notice an envelope on top of your neatly made bed. it’s weird, because you definitely recall not having the time to make your bed this morning… oh chan. you let out a shaky sigh and pick it up, mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.
Hi my bunny, I hope you’re doing okay.
By the time you see this, I’m probably boarding my flight. This never gets easier, does it? I miss you already.
In the two years that we’ve been together, I’ve felt nothing but happiness but also have never experienced such heartbreak. I hate seeing you cry and I hate missing you. But most of all, I hate the distance. No matter how hard it gets, loving you is the easiest thing about all of this and loving you is worth it.
We’ll be together again sometime soon and I hope the thought of that is enough for you to keep going because it definitely is for me. I can’t wait for the day where we don’t have to worry about the stupid distance anymore, where we can just love each other and not think about anything else.
You’re my favourite person and the absolute light of my life. I can’t wait to have you in my arms again.
I love you I love you I love you.
Yours, Chan
damn it, you wipe your tears messily and hug the letter close to your heart, allowing yourself to let out a small sob. maybe you don’t hate your home after all. in fact, you love your home. he’s your home.
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estrellami-1 · 7 months
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If I Should Stay
Part 1 | . . . | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
After sandwiches, Nancy turns to El. “Could you look for Barb again?”
El sets her mouth and nods. She glances at Steve, who also nods and moves to set up the living room again.
Eddie follows him in and picks up the blindfold. Steve doesn’t try to hide his smirk. “You’ve got questions, I’m guessing?”
Eddie shrugs, leans against the couch. Watches the fabric as he pulls it through his fingers. Right hand, left hand. Right, left. “Mostly thinking I was wrong about you. Even more than I initially thought.”
Steve smiles. “We never got to have this conversation in the future, but I do know what your bandana means.” He stops for a second, watches Eddie’s hands. Right, left. “I’m offering… not an olive branch, per se, but…”
“An invitation?” Right, left.
“Exactly.” He shrugs. “If there’s anything you want to know…” he trails off, lets it hang in the air.
Eddie smiles. “Just one thing.” He holds it up in his left hand. “Who d’you use it on?”
Steve grins and turns away, looking for the remote. “Myself.” His smile falls. “Or- I did. You heard about the Russians, right?”
Eddie steps up beside him. Offers him the blindfold. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
Steve shrugs. “I’d say if I could go back in time, but…” he gestures around with a grin, letting it widen when Eddie chuckles. “Turns out going back in time does nothing for the memories I already have.”
Eddie frowns. “Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Your body reverted back to its sixteen-year-old self, but your brain is still twenty.”
“I mean, imagine me coming to school one day looking like this, and the next I come in with scars, looking half a decade older. People would talk.”
Eddie hums. “You’re probably right. Still, it can’t be easy, having those mental reminders with none of the physical.”
Steve grins at him. “Did you miss the part where I don’t have concussions?”
Eddie snorts. “Fair enough. Still, I bet the scars looked badass.”
“Very metal,” Steve agrees. “Y’know, if you’d survived? We woulda had matching scars.” He trails a hand down his side. “The bats ripped us both open. Woulda gotten me if you, Robin and Nance hadn’t gotten there when you did. You took on a bat with nothing but an oar from a rowboat.” He turns to look at Eddie. “You told me once, how you’re a coward. How you run.” He shakes his head, looks away. “You didn’t. Not when it mattered. And you won’t this time.”
“Maybe this time we’ll have matching not-scars,” Eddie says, then points at Steve. “And no concussions.”
“And no concussions,” Steve parrots, laughing. “If we have to deal with the Russians again, though? I’m definitely doing something different.”
“We,” Eddie murmurs, shrugging when Steve looks at him. “We’ll do something different. You think any of these kids are gonna leave you alone after this? You think Eleven will leave you alone?”
“I hope not,” Steve answers honestly. “And you? You’re staying?”
Eddie shrugs again. “You said I didn’t run when it mattered. Who’s to say this doesn’t matter just as much? I’m not running.”
Steve smiles softly at him. “You’re a good man, Eddie Munson.”
Eddie levels him with a look. “I sell weed, Steve.”
Steve snorts. “I’m well aware, dude, I’ve bought from you before. If all goes well, I’m planning on buying another.”
Eddie laughs. “Hell, man, if it all goes well, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”
Steve winks. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, then leaves Eddie to process while he goes to get El.
Of course wherever El goes, Mike’s not far behind, which means he, Dustin and Lucas follow, and of course Nancy follows, and since everyone else is already in there, Jonathan and Robin follow too, so they all end up crammed in the living room again, with bated breaths and tightly-held hands, as El settles in front of the TV and puts the blindfold on.
Finally, she speaks. “I see her. She is alive.”
Nancy slumps into the couch and lets out a breath.
Then El speaks again. “She does not have very long.”
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stardustizuku · 1 month
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I’ve recently been thinking on why there’s people who interpret Kuro in such a drastically different way.
And something I notice is that you can easily tell how someone experiences the series, based on what they think of the GWA.
The way you interpret the Green Witch Arc is indicative of of how you have been interpreting the story so far, and how you’ll interpret it going forward
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Generally, there’s two interpretations:
1.- The Reaction Ciel had to the mustard gas, are his true feelings coming afloat
2.- The Reaction Ciel had to the mustard gas, isn’t how he feels.
The first interpretation (and I’m really not trying to be mean about it this time) comes from a very, uhm, shall I call it Teenage-Like? mindset of how pain and trauma works.
I call it Teenage-Like, because I’ve seen it in mostly literature aimed at teenagers, be it fanfics or YA. It comes from an inability for teenagers to actually voice how they feel towards their parents. A helpless feeling of being ignored.
I don’t wanna point fingers but this is the basis of a lot of Self Harm tendencies (physical, emotional, psychological, or others like EDs or digital self harm) come from. A need for people to notice you are in pain. But because you feel like you cannot voice it yourself (or don’t deserve it, it can vary) you start to lash out. Put yourself in higher risks, to have someone find out there is something wrong with you.
So the moment the main character finally breaks down, or has a moment of weakness, it’s interpreted as someone finally being truthful.
This is how Ciel’s reaction is interpreted by the first half.
The mustard gas is simply a trigger of pain, that causes all of Ciel to unravel. He’s in pain right now, cause he’s always in pain. He’s avoidant to Sebastian, cause he’s always been scared of him. He doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust adults. Finny is the only one who actually cares.
This makes the fact that Sebastian ,essentially, slapped him to get him to react, come off as cruel.
The boy is finally being honest, and you just tell him he’s being childish? Horrible.
Obviously, that’s not my interpretation.
Okay so, what happens once you’re not a teenager? Once you don’t have an adult figure to take care of you? What happens once you start avoiding telling your parents the pain you’re in, not because you think they won’t care, but because they’ll care too much and get worried and you don’t want them to get worried?
You start to realize pain is not the end of the world.
While, when being a teenager, getting sick meant someone gets to take care of you and maybe notice you aren’t okay, as an adult getting sick potentially means - not going to work. Which means your won’t have money to buy food, which means you’ll probably go hungry.
So getting sick becomes less of a way to get away from the responsibilities you have, and more of a burden.
That’s why you’ll see, in media aimed at adults,mental breakdown less depicted as an opportunity to be honest, and more of a sickness that needs to be healed.
You can have a more honest and truthful conversation, while you are sound of mind. There’s no power dynamic between friends, like it would with adult figures and children. So this song and dance, isn’t necessary.
You don’t have to be sick to be understood. And your friends will rather try to help you, than understand you when you’re suffering. That’s the nature of adult relationships.
This is more or less the framing that comes from Ciel’s breakdown (in the second interpretation).
The Mustard Gas isn’t showing Ciel’s true nature - it’s showing Ciel at his most vulnerable. This means, not in his sound mind.
Saying things he normally wouldn’t, hurting people he normally would hold close, and clinging to people he generally would never try to get close to.
Simply put, it isn’t just “a bit of pain to make him unravel” but a “Ciel is getting psychologically tortured by a weapon used for chemical warfare”.
He’s past being honest. He’s having such a severe reaction, that he cannot function. He’s being tortured and broken, to the point he is no longer himself.
He isn’t being “truthful” he’s scared.
And fear can make you do things that, in your sound mind, you would never do.
The point is that, Ciel isn’t saying what he truly feels or being “honest”. It’s him scared out of his mind, saying everything and anything to make the fear stop.
And the biggest proof is how he treats Sebastian.
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The fact that Ciel asks Sebastian to “go away” or “not come near” is perhaps the most glaring reason as to how badly this Gas messed with him.
I’ve said this before but to Ciel, Sebastian is a lifeline. He’s the only tool he has for his revenge. The thing that, even after he lost r!Ciel, he was willing to sacrifice it all to achieve.
And at this point in time, Sebastian is also the only emotional anchor Ciel has.
As far back as the second episode, Ciel has asked Sebastian to stay. Even when he’s having flashbacks, even when he’s having an episode. In fact, Sebastian leaving him is a great source of anxiety - since as seen in BoC in the Asthma Scene, without him Ciel feels powerless enough to die.
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He feels more protected with him, because he KNOWS Sebastian will protect him and that Sebastian will follow his orders.
Again going with the analogy of a dog - He feels more comfortable having the chained beast by his bed, simply bcs others are trying to hurt him and the beast won’t eat him right now.
So him asking Sebastian to go away, is throwing away his biggest safety net for a surrogate for r!Ciel, just means he’s reverting to the mentality he had during the cult.
If Sebastian is constantly telling him “it’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore, you’re outside the cage, you can do what you WANT”
Ciel clinging to Finny is him going “no, im staying in the cage bcs at least the cage is familiar”
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And no matter what the first camp tells you, staying in the cage, trapped inside your pain ISNT the healthy option.
(We could argue Ciel’s need for revenge rather than healing is also unhealthy, but no one in the second camp would even call Ciel anything other than a villain in someone else’s story)
So, Sebastian slapping him and going “no, that’s not what you want”, isn’t as cruel as it would be in the first interpretation. Because as we see, he’s right. That’s not what Ciel wants. And it’s proved by the next scene where Sebastian talks to Ciel about what he truly wants.
Rather than Sebastian telling Ciel to “get over it”, it’s closest to a “snap out of it, something’s wrong”
This is further proved by the fact that, Sebastian first instinct isn’t to scare him. He does back away, he does try to wait and gently coax him. But Ciel literally cannot reason with him.
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That small but significant difference in interpretation has wildly different outcomes in how you perceive both, the characters and the story.
If you pick the first, you’re reading Sebastian as an enemy. Someone who does not respect Ciel. You see his attempt to eat Ciel’s soul as a breach of trust, and proof that he doesn’t care for him.
But if you pick the second option, you see Sebastian as an ally. Someone who’s running out of time and ways to save Ciel. His actions, while crass, ultimately help Ciel. What he was trying to do, was help.
Yana, very clearly, wanted the second interpretation. However, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you it’s the only interpretation. People are free to pick and chose how they read the text, irrelevant of how little of the actual text they’re reading.
But I will say, picking the first is symbolic of a less mature way of thinking. Common on those who like to infantilize trauma and trauma responses. It’s the easy, safe and comforting way of reading the text. As I said, it’s common in those who want their pain to be acknowledged.
That reading of Kuro is one that speak to me, that you’re not really ready to confront pain. And someone with that mentality, is not someone who’s reading of the text I find particularly interesting. Sure, you can share it, I’ll never stop you, but know you’re speaking to me in an entirely different language. You’re interpreting the text so differently, that I don’t think it’s even the same text anymore.
Again, you’re essentially writing analysis on fanfiction. And I’m not all too interested in dissecting your own trauma sloppily painted over British Aesthetic.
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Note
Maybe someone's already mentioned this, but:
Rollo must have very well-sculpted calves/legs.
I thought of this when Idia was complaining about his legs feeling like jelly while going up the bell tower. Rollo climbs the bell tower every day, multiple times a day- every day is leg day! Therefore, his legs must be in ridiculously good shape under those long robes of his. Too bad no one will ever know (?).
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YES WE HAVE unfortunately DISCUSSED BEFORE 🤡
Idia has toothpick legs so brittle they would probably snap in half like uncooked pasta noodles… Meanwhile Rollo, who has been diligently climbing the bell tower every single day AND polishing the huge Bell of Salvation AND cleaning the gargoyles too. Man must be so strong not just mentally but also physically. Ignore the fact that he looks like he hasn’t gotten a full 8 hours of sleep for several years though—
Alas 😩 Rollo chooses to hide his True Power from the world. We aren’t deserving of a peek at his legs… TWST continues to hide the exposed limbs of their pseudo-French men— Rollo would probably be appalled by the interest in his legs and the desire to witness them anyway 😂 I get the sense he has the conservative sensibilities of a Victorian man…
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midnight-in-town · 1 year
Text
About Melinda’s ambivalence
Gotta say that SxF ch75 was quite a ride. Personally, I expected Damian not to have any parent coming to check on him after the hijacking but what we got instead was...
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...actually so much worse. :/
Thanks to Anya’s abilities, we found out that Melinda does care about her son’s safety... but from the moment Damian mentioned not wanting to disappoint worry his father, her behavior and thoughts completely changed and she became cold, torn between being relieved and thoroughly despising her 6 year old son, to the point of wishing he had died during the hijacking (seriously, poor Damian). 
I remember, back when we met her, that some fans proposed the idea that she hates her life and her children, because she was forced into a wedding with Donovan. I think this chapter partially answers to that, but maybe more in the way that she’s torn about Damian because she most definitely hates her husband.
I wonder, considering that the Ostanian society is rather patriarchal, if Melinda, as Donovan’s wife who doesn’t get along with him, was forbidden from raising her sons the way she wanted, because Donovan wanted them raised differently and she could only comply, which is why she immediately switches from loving thoughts to wishing Damian was dead once he mentions “not wanting to worry his father”. 
It definitely seems there is some sort of power play full of hatred between Donovan and Melinda, so if Melinda was mostly deprived of her motherly role because her husband chose to raise their boys according to his own conformist vision to patriarchy, then that explains the morbid ambivalence that she showed about Damian. Interestingly, if she and Yor really become friends, then they could mutually learn from each other (for Yor, to realize that she’s her own person and for Melinda that she can love her kids independently from whatever asshole their father is and still try to educate them).
Somehow, this makes the newly expressed friendship between Damian and Anya a much sweeter moment in the chapter, especially since Anya heard Melinda’s horrible thoughts.
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It’s really sad though that a few kids are the only people Damian can count on for true comfort...
TL;DR Melinda’s half hateful thoughts about Damian probably come from hating her husband. The reason why is still unclear (is she mentally or physically abused? was she just pushed away from raising her sons because she’s a woman?) and since she most likely can’t get divorced or get therapy, this is how it gets expressed... 
Can’t wait to see Anya hearing Donovan’s thoughts now.
EDIT: discussing with @linkspooky​, she pointed out that Melinda is probably battered by Donovan, which is why she’s inwardly conflicted about her feelings for her child and also why she and Damian basically made the promise not to tell Donovan about crying (Damian) and coming to see if her son was okay (Melinda), despite both being incredibly normal things. Either way, this chapter is bad news for Donovan.
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tobifuyu · 10 months
Text
Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!
RAN HAITANI x f!reader
Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.
cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.
words count: 5,398
a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.
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If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.
If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.
Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.
In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.
So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.
You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.
You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.
I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.
You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.
And most importantly, that he can afford it.
Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.
He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.
And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.
Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–
Draining, that’s what it is.
But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.
“We can skip this part.”
You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”
Ouch, what a little bitch.
Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.
But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.
He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.
A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.
You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.
You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.
It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.
He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.
(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)
So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.
One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.
Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.
A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.
If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).
Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.
Shame on you.
But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.
He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.
You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.
They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.
The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.
“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.
Focus, goddamnit.
“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”
You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.
“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”
“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.
You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.
He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.
“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”
You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.
So exposed and vulnerable.
And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.
“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”
It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.
One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.
“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.
He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”
“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”
You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.
He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.
A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.
“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?
You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.
“No.”
Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.
He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.
Or so you thought.
“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”
You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.
And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.
It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.
He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.
“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.
You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.
One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.
A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.
“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.
But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.
“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”
What a piece of shit, you think.
But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.
“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”
When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.
You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.
If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.
“Ah shit, pretty-“
“Touch me, Ran.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.
His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.
You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).
That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.
You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”
At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.
He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”
All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.
But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.
So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”
“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”
“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.
That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.
Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.
Alive.
Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.
He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.
He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.
At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.
You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.
“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.
Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.
He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.
“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.
He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.
You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.
He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.
“Ran, fuck, I need more!”
And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.
So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.
“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.
This is so not like you.
Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.
“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”
You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.
Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.
The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.
It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.
You’re a cryer, he’s elated.
You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.
He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.
The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.
“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.
He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.
But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.
You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.
He glances down at the scene one more time.
Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.
He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.
Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.
At that thought something snaps inside of him.
“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.
Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.
“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“
“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.
He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.
But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.
He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.
“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.
Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.
A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.
And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.
Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.
He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.
“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.
You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.
But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”
More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.
“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.
“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.
“But I thought-“
“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”
He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.
He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.
And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;
Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;
… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.
At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.
At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…
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astronomodome · 4 months
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It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy
Rendog
c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise
cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me
Grian
c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening
cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t
Joel Smallishbeans
c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies
cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3
Scott Smajor
c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too
cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose
BigB
c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin
cc!: Man is yoked. I have died
Etho
c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid
cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten
Bdubs
c!: I could punt him with ease
cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it
Pearl
c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it
cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains
Martyn Inthelittlewood
c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me
cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die
Scar from Goodtimes
c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face
cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?
Impulse
c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes
cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though
Tango
c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem
cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope
Cleo
c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me
cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it
Jimmy Solidarity
c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time
cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.
Skizzleman
c!: Why would I do that
cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk
Geminitay
c!: Lol. No.
cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial
Mumbo Jumbo
c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him
cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over
Lizzie LDShadowlady
c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it
cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack
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