#he's not gentle not in the way that's overt but he CAN be and it drives me nuts

[wonusite]

Crossing Boundaries

❝ Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional. ❞

pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader

genre: single dad au, nanny au, fluff, smut

word count: 8.6k

warnings: dilf!cheol, ceo!cheol, nanny!reader, imbalance of power, a brief mention of death, mutual pining (a copious amount of it), jealousy, seungcheol is down horrendous, daddy kink, breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, multiple creampies, overstimulation, cockwarming

a/n: will never get over this concept. huge shout out to dilf cheol nonny for fueling my muse and helping make this happen. based off this request. minors dni!

There were three basic rules when it came to working for Choi Seungcheol:

1. Be on time.

2. Be efficient.

3. Maintain professional boundaries.

The rules were simple enough, but you quickly learned that there was nothing simple about them. Seungcheol was nothing if not a strict man. He demanded excellence, and anyone who didn’t live up to his rigorous standards ended up fired. Any person who managed to keep their job for a month could keep a job anywhere. At least, that’s what his entire staff seemed to think.

They weren’t exactly wrong. His standards were impossibly high, and he left little to no room for any error. It’s the very reason why Seungcheol had gone through five nannies before you, each worse than the last, according to him.

Because of this daunting fact, you’ve been very careful to never fall bellow his expectations. All the meticulous routines you made for yourself became like second nature within the first month, and it’s what kept your job secure for the last four years.

In all that time you had managed to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Especially since you came to absolutely adore the six-year-old boy that you were hired to take care of. Choi Taehyun was the cutest and most endearing kid you’d ever met. As soon as you met him, he had wedged his way into your heart and secured a permanent place for himself there.

The overt fondness you felt proved to be dangerous because from the very beginning, Seungcheol was adamant that you never overstep your duties as a nanny. It was his way of saying you’re not his mother so never try to act like you are. According to Josh (his assistant and the person who helped you get the job), your boss only acted this way because he still hadn't fully overcame his wife’s death. You could understand his pain which is why you were always careful not to do anything that could be seen as crossing the line.

But now, as you’re looking at Taehyun’s tear-filled eyes, all the professionalism you’ve had so far just seems to evaporate from your body. His bottom lip is trembling as he tries his hardest to muffle the whimpers and sobs at the edge of his throat. A concerned frown tugs your lips down when you go to gently wipe his fallen tears.

“Tae, what’s wrong?” You ask, feeling like someone is squeezing your heart painfully.

“Daddy’s not going to watch my play.”

The aforementioned play was something Taehyun and his entire class had been working on for about a month. He was extremely excited about it because he was assigned one of the main roles.

“It’s not fair.” Taehyun cries softly, clinging to your hands that were gently wiping his cheeks. “All my friends’ mommies and daddies are gonna watch.”

The discomfort in your chest grows as tears continue to spill from his eyes. All you can do is hug the little boy close to you in an effort to comfort him. He buries his wet face into your shoulder, clinging on to you like he never wants to let you go.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know your daddy would watch you if he could. I know he’s just as sad as you are that he can’t be there.” You rub gentles circles on his back, desperate to stop his tears from flowing.

Then, you say something you know your boss would definitely not approve of. “I know it’s not the same, but if you want, I can come watch you instead.”

Taehyun’s whimpers turn into soft sniffles as he pulls back to look at you. His eyes are still filled with tears, but now a hopeful look has taken over his gaze. “Really? You’ll come watch me?”

You realize that what you’re doing is literally bulldozing through the boundaries you’ve stayed within so far, but you would do just about anything for Choi Taehyun. There was no way you could let him be sad for another moment. So, you disregard the foreboding feeling in your gut and smile at the young boy.

“Of course I will.”

“Promise?” He’s looking at you with his huge doe eyes, pinky stuck out at you, wearing the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen.

As Taehyun wraps his arms around you in joy, you contemplate whether or not it’s smart of you to let your emotions dictate your actions this way.

Meanwhile, your boss feels like he’s losing his mind.

As the CEO of a major conglomerate, he’s always been a level-headed, professional man. There isn’t a single thing that could make him lose his composure or make him get out of character.

This, however, doesn’t seem to apply whenever it involves his sweet, caring nanny.

Ever since you came into his life, things had changed drastically for him. You had unknowingly brightened his life in a way that he never thought was possible after his wife’s passing. Years hadn’t healed the pain, but for some reason your presence and actions had done what time couldn’t.

Seungcheol doesn’t realize the extent of his feelings until his personal assistant casually mentions that he was in the midst of arranging a date between you and the head of marketing, Jeon Wonwoo. A feeling that could only be described as rabid jealousy lights up in the pit of his stomach and expands up into his chest as Josh unwittingly goes on about how his subordinate is exactly your type.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Seungcheol cuts in when Joshua says you agreed to go on this date after seeing a picture of Wonwoo. “When things don’t work out between them, it’ll bring tension into the office. The last thing I want is for either of them to feel uncomfortable.”

The way his boss said when and not if doesn’t go unnoticed.

Also, Seungcheol’s logic is seriously flawed. They both know it. In all the time you’ve worked as the CEO’s nanny, never once had you came to see him while he was working. You were annoyingly good at keeping boundaries and never overstepping. It never bothered him before, but now that he keeps thinking about it, it’s starting to.

Josh doesn’t comment on what’s blatantly obvious, mostly because he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. It’s also clear that his boss is only barely coming to terms with his own feelings. Instead of rubbing salt in the wound, Josh is quick to assure Seungcheol that he won’t go forward with the setup before bringing his attention to his next schedule.

If only that would’ve helped him get his mind off of you.

Seungcheol is distracted during his meetings. These very large feelings are at the forefront of his mind, and they don’t fade in the slightest even as the day goes on. He starts to go over every time you’ve smiled at him in that sweet way you do. His heart jumps whenever he thinks back to those memories.

He can’t help but feel like an idiot for being so blind to his own feelings.

Things don’t feel the same when he goes home. When he finds you helping his son with his homework, all these feelings hit him at once. It’s almost funny how he never noticed the burning feeling in his chest. You’re so sweet and attentive and entirely focused on Taehyun that you don’t notice his presence. A tender smile takes over his face.

Briefly, Seungcheol thinks he wouldn’t mind coming home and seeing this lovely sight every day.

He only snaps out of his daydreams when you raise your head and stand up to greet him with a kind smile. “Mr. Choi. You’re back early.”

Seungcheol, he wants to say. Call me Seungcheol.

“Dad!”

He’s quickly distracted when he feels a small body collide with his legs. Seungcheol’s heart swells with affection as he bends down to pick up his son. Taehyun giggles happily as he wraps his small arms around his father’s neck.

Being so endeared by the sight of your boss hugging his son and peppering his little face with kisses isn’t anything new. It’s so cute that you can feel a goofy smile slowly form on your face. In the back of your mind, you know exactly why this overt fondness is clinging to your heart. But in this moment in time, you’re not willing to unpack the inappropriate feelings you have for your boss

Seungcheol doesn’t make it easy, though. For some reason he insists on helping you prepare dinner. He’s strangely eager, and you can’t really reject his offer to help. It’s both exciting and nerve-wracking to spend time with your sexy boss like this since he usually only talks to you about Taehyun.

You can’t take your eyes off Seungcheol as he rolls up his sleeves and puts on a spare apron. It’s unfair that he looks as good as he does, and you can barely keep your calm when he starts to wash the vegetables you bought in the morning. His actions feel so domestic and so sweet that you have to try your hardest to act like you’re not enjoying it as much as you are.

“I hope Taehyun didn’t wear you out too much.” Your boss says as you start to chop the freshly washed vegetables. “He’s had a lot of energy lately.”

“That’s normal for boys his age.” You say kindly. “And Taehyun’s very well-behaved, especially compared to kids his own age. You’ve raised him well, Mr. Choi.”

Seungcheol beams at the compliment, embracing the fluttering he feels in his torso and chest. Briefly, he thinks that you don’t give yourself enough credit. After all, you’ve helped raise his son more than anyone.

“In that case, I hope you can join us for dinner.”

His invitation shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. You swallow thickly, chopping movements slowing as you contemplate your answer. It’s not like you’ve never had dinner with the a father-son duo, but it was always on the insistence of Taehyun. But now that Seungcheol was the one asking, you didn’t know what to do.

Up until now, you had been very careful to not overstep the boundaries your boss had set in place by your boss, and you couldn’t understand why the same man who hated when people didn’t remain professional and respect his boundaries was asking you to do just that. Given that your big fat crush is extremely hard to hide, you’re sure that putting some distance between you two is the right thing to do.

But with the way Seungcheol’s shining eyes are imploringly staring at you, it’s hard to think of a reason to reject his invitation.

“Mr. Choi.” You say nervously as you two begin to set up the dinner table. “I... I have something to tell you.”

His gaze is intent, and you try to remain as calm as possible. “Since you won’t be able to attend Taehyun’s play, I’m going to watch him instead.”

“You?”

Your boss’s expression is unreadable, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Still, you soldier on and try to pretend you’re not as intimidated as you are.

“Yes. It’s something that’s important to me, and I hope you don’t mind me being there for him.”

If Seungcheol had any doubts about his feelings, he definitely didn’t now. To think that you would care so much about his son warms his heart and further cements what he already knew about you. He gives you a smile, heart bursting with affection. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you’ll be able to be there to watch my son.”

Honestly, Josh had managed to rework his schedule so he could see the play and surprise Taehyun, but surprising the both of you was good too.

Somehow, you manage to conceal the shock you feel. You didn’t think he would agree so easily, let alone be pleased with the idea. Instead of questioning it any further, you only thank the skies that he didn’t react angrily.

It’s hard to pretend that eating together doesn’t fill you with a copious amount of joy. Listening to Taehyun tell you all about how he can count higher than his best friend while you and Seungcheol praise him makes you feel like you’re part of their family. Maybe it’s wrong or even delusional, but you can’t help wanting to have this dynamic with them indefinitely.

“You’re leaving already?”

Taehyun is looking up at you with his large doe eyes, and you can’t help but break down a little on the inside at the disappointment they hold.

“I’ll be back tom—”

“Stay.” Seungcheol says, walking towards you. “I could really use your help putting this little monster to sleep.”

Ignoring the blatant domesticity of reading Taehyun a bedtime story together is near impossible. It gets even worse when your boss insists you stay until his son falls asleep. You almost feel like you’ve been dropped in an alternate universe when you’re ready to leave and your boss stops you again.

“Let me take you home.” Seungcheol says as you’re gathering your things. “Please.”

It’s not fair that he can seem so cute while saying this to you, and despite your better judgement, you say yes all while knowing that it’s not going to help you squash the onslaught of emotions in your chest.

Something was up with your boss.

You’re not sure why he was acting like he had gotten body snatched, but truthfully, you can’t say that you hate it. Having breakfast and dinner with him and Taehyun was something you loved more than you let show. This warm, mushy feeling always wrapped itself around you and clung on to you every time it happened despite it having become part of your routine.

The change is significant, and you can tell you’re not the only one who’s noticed. Josh had made a few teasing remarks, but never blatantly said what you knew he was thinking. (He was the first to know about your not-so-little crush on your boss so it wasn’t really surprising.) Of course, Taehyun had also noticed, although he was much more vocal about it.

“Dad, you always smile so big when all us eat together.”

The blush that dusts your boss’s cheeks is absolutely adorable, and you can barely keep a straight face when Seungcheol clears his throat to answer his son. “That’s because it makes me happy.”

It’s not fair that he can say something like that so casually and like it doesn’t literally make your entire heart pulse with affection. Somehow, you manage to keep all your feelings tampered down so they don’t show.

And for the most part it works. Until the day of Taehyun’s play, that is.

Seungcheol had assured you that supporting his son in his stead was definitely not crossing the line, but it was near impossible from feeling like that’s exactly what you were doing. It doesn’t help that you feel so out of place among the parents, either. To be fair, none of them were paying you any attention. You were just too in your head.

After fighting with your inexplicable anxiousness, you decided to just silently go to the auditorium without being noticed. This plan would’ve gone well if an unfamiliar voice hadn’t loudly called out your full government name, drawing the attention of many of the gathered parents. A woman who you recognized to be the principal’s wife approaches you with a tight-lipped smile.

Mrs. Ren looks you up and down, the condescending smile on her face widening impossibly. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

Her attitude didn’t surprise you since many of the other moms had commented about her being very attracted to your boss. Apparently she had staked this weird claim on him despite being married, and no one dared to go against her because of who she was. Clearly, she didn’t like that you were overstepping the duties of a typical nanny.

Not that you cared, but having so many eyes on you was unsettling.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You challenged, not daring to back down. “Taehyun is family, after all.”

You don’t miss the quiet gasps or the angry widening of Mrs. Ren’s eyes. Honestly, you had no idea why you blurted that out even though that’s how you really felt about the cute little boy you took care of.

“So, it’s true?” The woman behind her exclaimed in shock. “You’re really going to marry Seungcheol?”

Woah. Wait. What?

You can feel your eyes get big as this unknown woman goes on about how she knew her husband hadn’t lied to her. There was no time to fully process her words because Mrs. Ren practically had steam coming out of her ears as she sneered at you.

“You?” The principal's wife screeched. “You’re engaged to Choi Seungcheol?”

It’s almost funny how unreasonably angry you know she’s gotten, but you’re too thrown off by the entire situation to laugh. You decide to clear up this absurd claim before it can go any further.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

You cut yourself off when a strong hand is gently placed on your waist. The warmth of a muscular body pressed against your side has you looking over to see none other than your hot boss, and you have to stop yourself from flinching because he looks absolutely livid. His presence makes you feel relieved and mortified all at the same time which leaves you feeling confused. But damn, does that mean glare look attractive on him.

“I didn’t expect this reaction from you, Mrs. Ren.” His cold tone sends shivers down your spine. “Are you not happy that I’ve finally decided to settle down again?”

The entire situation feels like a bizarre dream, and you can only be sure it’s not because of the very real heat coming from Seungcheol’s hand (which is still firmly on your waist). You can barely fathom the fact that Choi Seungcheol is actually lying about being engaged to you to help you save face, and you don’t know if you’re more embarrassed or charmed at this point.

“Tha-That’s not it!” She splutters, red in the face. “I was just surprised because I didn’t know you were dating again in the first place!”

It’s a lame excuse, one that doesn’t seem to satisfy your boss. “I’m sure that was it. There’s no way you would bear any ill will toward my family, right?”

You feel like you might actually swoon at his words. To hear him refer to you as his family makes an unmistakable warmth spread through your body. Sure, he was only doing it to help you, but still. The intention alone was enough to make your heart race.

The face Mrs. Ren makes looks like she’s seconds away from bursting with anger and mortification. How she manages to answer Seungcheol calmly is beyond you. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

His hand falls from your waist and grabs your own. It takes all your willpower to not melt into a puddle of mush as he starts to guide you away from the prying eyes. You let him drag you along, mind too full of rampant thoughts to really process what just happened.

“Seungcheol!” A voice calls. “Wait!”

You both stop, turning to see the woman from before. She gives your boss a devious smirk as she stops in front of you two, seemingly pleased.

“Aren’t you two a match made in heaven.” She says, grin getting bigger with every word. “Keeping this little affair a secret. When Jeonghan told me about it, I didn’t believe it since I haven’t seen you two together, but with the way you looked swooped in like Prince Charming—”

As she trails off with a swoon, you realize that she’s Yoon Minji, wife of your boss’s lifelong friend and business associate. Your mind is so muddled that you barely catch her invite you both to dinner before leaving to go find a seat.

After she leaves, Seungcheol keeps guiding you to the auditorium without saying a word. The silence is painful, but you’re forced to endure it since you don’t know what to say. Thanking him for helping you would be a good start, but then you don’t know if you’d be able to hold yourself back from asking why the wife of his best friend thought you two were engaged to be married.

“Y/N.” Seungcheol says your name softly as you two stop just outside the doors that lead to the auditorium. “Once again, I want to thank you for coming. I know it’s going to mean a lot to Taehyun that you came to watch him.”

The way you look at him with your pretty eyes makes Seungcheol want to kiss you senseless. His heart is beating fiercely in his chest, and he wonders how he could’ve never noticed these intense feelings before. The smile you give him is blinding, and he wishes that look would remain on your face forever.

“I’m happy to be here, and I know that it’s going to mean the world to Tae that you were able to make it.”

Seungcheol swallows thickly. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened back there. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable with what I said.”

His gaze is so tender that you feel your breath hitch. You’re heart is beating like it’s about to jump out and jump right into Seungcheol’s hands. Unsurprisingly, that’s where it feels like it’s been for the past year. You’re snapped out of your intrusive thoughts when you realize that you’re still holding hands. Neither of you make a move to let go.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to assure him. “I’m actually really grateful that you helped me. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you.”

“Never.”

His smile is so pretty it makes you want to do unspeakable things to him, and you have to remind yourself of where you’re at and who you are. That reminder does little to squash the fire burning fiercely in your chest, though. Especially when Seungcheol guides you inside the auditorium, hand still wrapped around yours.

Seungcheol didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he was about to enter the kitchen, your phone was on the counter and on speaker. It was inevitable that he heard his assistant’s voice as he spoke to you. He might’ve given you the privacy you deserved had he not caught what you two were talking about.

“How have you still not found something?” Josh’s concerned voice booms through the phone. “Your lease literally ends in two weeks.”

Originally, you had planned to move into a nice apartment building not too far from your job, but that fell through when you found out the prices had gone up significantly in the last month. It’s not like you were underpaid or anything (Seungcheol was very generous and the benefits were nothing short of impressive), but living there would mean spending more than half of your check on just rent alone. And as generous as your boss was, you know you could never bring yourself to ask for a raise.

“Everything I’ve looked at is either in a sketchy neighborhood or looks like it’ll need serious repairs.” You sigh as you start wiping down the stove. “I’m starting to think I should’ve never rejected Mr. Choi’s offer of being a live-in nanny.”

“Just tell him you changed your mind.” Josh says like it wouldn’t be a big deal. “He might give you the best room in the employee house. You know the one with the balcony!”

You disregard his teasing tone and scowl. “There’s no way I’m going to backtrack now. Do you know how humiliated I’ll be when he tells me no? I’ll have to quit right then and there!”

Even though you can’t see your friend, you can easily picture him rolling his eyes. “What do you plan on doing then?”

You pout at the phone. “Can’t I just live with you and Junhui? Your place is so nice.”

“You’ll have to stay in the living room, and you won’t have anywhere to put your things.”

Seungcheol sees your shoulders slump, and he has to stop himself from walking into the kitchen and taking you into his arms. He can only watch helplessly as you sigh quietly before responding in a voice that sounds too dejected for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll just move back in with my parents.”

This might’ve made Seungcheol feel better had his assistant not cut in with the obvious flaws in your plan. “Won’t the commute be too much, though? You can’t do that every day. Not with how early and late you have to work.”

There’s a pause, and then the next words that come out of Josh’s mouth make Seungcheol feel like someone punched him in the stomach.

“Unless you’re planning on resigning.”

Your silence makes the feeling in his stomach worsen, and your response doesn’t make him feel all that better. “Well, no, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to.”

Seungcheol slowly backs away, heart thumping irregularly in his chest. The thought of you quitting and no longer being in his life is more devastating than he could’ve imagined. It torments him and leaves him feeling cold.

For the rest of the evening, he can’t get his mind off the conversation he heard or how it leaves him feeling.

Even as he lays in his bed in the middle of the night, he can’t stop thinking about it. He goes over the situation over and over in his head until he finally decides that he can’t give you up, selfish as his reasons may be. All Seungcheol has to do is make sure his son won’t have an issue with what he’s planning to do.

“Taehyun.” He says softly as he’s tucks his son into bed alone for the first time in months. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

The way the little boy vigorously nods his head makes his heart warm. “Yeah! She’s nice and pretty and I like when she calls me Tae!”

Seungcheol swallows, feeling more nervous than ever. “Then... how would you feel about her being around more often?”

Taehyun blinks slowly, weary eyes looking at his dad questioningly. As always, his son is silently asking to explain and get to the point. It’s hard to suppress a smile when he does things that remind Seungcheol how similar they are.

“What I mean is... would you like it if Y/N came to live here with us?”

It’s a relief when his son springs up, eyes shining with unadulterated excitement. “Y/N is going to live with us?” His happiness is evident. “Really?”

Seungcheol smiles tenderly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

“I have to ask her first, but if she says yes, then she’ll come stay with us—as long as that’s something you want.”

“I do want it!” Taehyun says, bouncing on his knees. “Then we can all live together like a family!”

Yes, Seungcheol thinks as he affectionately caresses his son’s face. Like a family.

The next morning, you’re surprised to see your boss still hasn’t left for work even when you’re ready to take Taehyun to school. It’s even more surprising when he suggests you all go together. You can’t deny the request since Taehyun is all too happy to have you both take him to school.

It’s hard to ignore the stares you’re getting as you and Seungcheol walk Taehyun into the school. He’s holding both your hands, happily swinging them and talking animatedly. Funnily enough, the young boy manages to make the nerves you feel disappear with his infectious smile. You can easily disregard the gawking and whispers after seeing how happy your boss’s son is.

Seungcheol also doesn’t seem to mind the attention you two are attracting. He acts like his impassive self even as he’s driving you back to the mansion. The entire time he’s really just thinking of the best way to ask you to live with him and his son. Even though he knows you most likely won't say no, he still feels nervous.

“Y/N.” He says as he pulls into his long driveway. “Before you go, I have a request.”

You feel nervous, but manage to plaster a smile on your face. “Yes, sir?”

Seungcheol feels as if his heart jumped up into his throat. “Well, you see... my schedule is going to change drastically these next few months. I’m going to be working earlier and coming home much later. There are also be times where I’ll have to leave the city for business for extended periods of time.”

You’re not saying anything, and he knows he has to get to the point quickly.

“I was going to request that you come live with Taehyun and I during this time. It’ll be more convenient for everyone this way. I hope you’ll consider it.”

At this moment, your boss looks so earnest that you aren’t sure how to adequately express the influx of emotions you’re suddenly feeling. It all feels like a dream to you that you begin to wonder if his words are actually real. Either way, the warmth seeping into your bones pushes you to give the handsome man in front of you an answer.

“Yes, of course I will.”

Every time you wake up and find yourself in a luxurious room, you feel like you’ve been dropped in the middle of a blissful dream. Weeks have gone by, but it still feels unreal. Unlike your expectations, your boss moved you into the main house and gave you the room right across from his. It was hard to not let your fantasizing mind wander despite knowing he had done it out of convenience and nothing else.

Your life continues to be stuck in a routine until Taehyun goes to visit his grandparents. It’s strange without him around, and unsurprisingly, you begin to miss him after the first day. Your boss insists that you can take the week off and have it for yourself, but you still have no desire to actually do anything.

Seungcheol notices your listless attitude and feels determined to change it.

“Tonight?”

“You don’t want to?”

The way Seungcheol is looking like a pouty puppy is not good for your heart. Although you really don’t feel like going to dinner with Minji and Jeonghan, you can’t say no to the adorably hot man in front of you.

“No, it’s not that, I just—” You’re flustered, but don’t want him to think you don’t want to go with him. “They still think we’re engaged, right?”

You almost regret asking because Seungcheol’s hopeful look slowly fades away and is replaced by poorly concealed dejection. “Yeah. Sorry. I still haven’t cleared things up. We don’t have to go if that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind.” You tell him truthfully. “I just didn’t want it to seem like I was crossing the line.”

Seungcheol has to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees and telling you that you’re the only person who’s allowed to cross the line with him. Instead he manages to smile at you like he’s not physically dying inside. “You’re not.”

As you’re walking in to what seems to be like one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, you’re glad you spend a good fifteen minutes deciding on the perfect thing to wear. Seungcheol had seemed to like it, at least. His eyes were practically sparkling when he’d seen you.

It’s hard to ignore this intense pressure you feel when you sit down at the table. Minji and Jeonghan greet you amicably like you’re one of their old friends, but you know it’s only because they think you’re engaged to Seungcheol which you most definitely are not.

Luckily, the conversation flows naturally and smoothly until Jeonghan asks a question that leaves you without a single thing to say.

“I need to know the story of how you two fell in love because this man is not one who crosses the line with his employees.”

You’d like to know the same thing yourself. Not that Seungcheol was actually in love with you or had actually done that much to push past these rules he had set, but he’d done more than you ever believed him capable of doing.

“I can’t really remember how it happened.” Seungcheol says honestly. “After a while, I found myself excited to go home and see her. Every time she smiled at me, I felt like my heart was going to explode. When she went home, I missed her even though I knew she was coming back. Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t picture my life without her in it.”

You’re staring. You know you are, but you can’t help it. He sounds so sincere with those shimmering eyes of his, and you feel like your own heart is on the verge of exploding. Even though it’s all an act, you start to feel those familiar butterflies invade your stomach and chest.

“Oh my god!” Minji squeals, slapping her husband’s arm repeatedly. “How cute is that? I swear you guys make me want a love like yours.”

As Jeonghan lets out an offended noise and starts to list off all the romantic and extravagant things he’s done in order to show Minji his love, you can only laugh along and pretend like your boss’s words didn’t affect you as much as they did.

When you get back home, your heart is still unable to let go of those sweet words. Even as you walk up to your room with Seungcheol still by your side, you can’t let them go despite knowing he didn’t mean them.

Now that it’s time to say goodnight, you feel strange parting ways even though he’ll literally be in the room across from yours. “I had a really good time tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. I was kind of worried you weren’t going to.”

You always had a good time when you were with him, not that you would dare to say that out loud.

“You really surprised me, Mr Choi. I had no idea you were such a good actor.”

You had expected him to laugh, but instead he only looks at you with a somber gaze. “I told you to call me Seungcheol.”

His voice comes out so authoritative that it makes your insides clench, and his lidded gaze makes your heart leap up into your throat. You manage to find your voice even though it comes out a bit weak. “But we’re not pretending anymore...”

His gaze sharpens. “I’ve never pretended to love you.”

His words hang in the air, and they shock you so much that they make you unconsciously give into his request from before. “Seungcheol.” You say breathlessly.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes his heart stutter, and he briefly thinks he could listen to you say his name forever. Both your eyes are burning fiercely with this emotion that has been blatant to all those around you. Except this time you can both see it.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, but suddenly his mouth is covering yours, tongue licking along your bottom lip. The feeling is electric, and you throw all your inhibitions to the wind as you pull Seungcheol closer.

Your heart is pounding fiercely as you two stumble into his room, pulling off the the clothes you’re wearing, touching each other desperately as if you think this moment might end at any moment. It won’t though, and you become conscious of that fact as you’re laying on the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, completely naked.

Seungcheol is gazing at you with so much affection and want that it makes you feel like he plans to eat you up. He kisses along your inner thighs, gently licking and biting at your soft skin. His warm hands caress the outside of your thighs, gently digging his fingers into the soft skin.

“So pretty.”

You can feel your breath hitch in anticipation as his hands smooth down your inner thighs until he’s pressing two fingers against your aching clit. It’s dizzying the way Seungcheol rubs it in gentle circles that have you squirming and gasping in pleasure. His heated gaze flickers between your face and your dripping cunt, not wanting to miss the sight of you falling apart under him.

“Look at how wet you are, sweetheart. All for me.”

His voice has a possessive edge to it as he grinds down on the bed, hard cock rubbing uselessly against the sheets. The pleasure is minimal, and Seungcheol has to hold back a whine at the lack of relief.

“Please.” You mewl, shifting your hips up slightly.

Seungcheol keeps his dark eyes on you to make sure you’re watching him. He presses a soft kiss to your pulsing clit, and he has to groan when he sees you clench around nothing. The featherlight touch has you feeling so desperate and lightheaded that you’re unable to stop the wanton mewl that tumbles past your lips. “Seungcheol.”

Your voice is so needy and sweet that Seungcheol lets out a moan of his own before he dips his head between your thighs. The moan you let out is loud as he starts to suck and lick at your aching bud. His movements are smooth and gentle somehow, and it’s not long before you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Seungcheol is groaning and panting into your cunt as he laps up every bit of your juices. He’s eating you out like a starved man, and you love every second of it. The way he grabs your thighs and pulls your wet cunt closer to his mouth makes your head swim. One of your hands finds his hair while the other trails up your body to cup your tit. You pull and pinch at the taut nipple with a loud moan of Seungcheol’s name.

The sweet moans you’re letting out as Seungcheol spreads your slick all over your cunt makes his cock throb in anticipation. He wonders what you’ll sound like when he finally has his dick inside you. Your grip on his hair tightens when he circles his tongue on your puffy bud. The cute whines falling from your lips become louder as his he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“So sweet.” Seungcheol groans against your dripping cunt. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your pussy clenches around his tongue so tightly that it almost feels like it could be pulled off his mouth. But your moans and mewls coax him to keep going, loving the way you’re starting to blubber incoherently. “Fuh-Fuck! Feels so good...”

The way you take an awkward pause makes Seungcheol lift his head questioningly. Your whine of protest has his leaking cock throbbing almost painfully. “What is it?”

Your face feels hot, and you’re so lost in your pleasure that it pushes you to tell him the truth. “Can... Can I call you daddy?”

Seungcheol smashes his hot face back into your cunt, cock aching painfully. “Call me whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

His tongue and lips are massaging your swollen clit, and all you can do is throw your head back and arch your back to grind your hot cunt harder onto his mouth. It almost feels like too much, but strangely also like not enough at the same time.

“O-Oh, fuck! Daddy!”

The loud cry you let out as you squirt all over Seungcheol’s face makes him let out a guttural moan of his own. His entire chin and mouth is covered with your sweet juices, and he continues to lap it up like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted—which you are.

Seungcheol sits up, licking his lips until he can’t taste you anymore. His grin is devious but also so hot. He’s gently caressing your still-quivering thighs, and you feel like you can faint from how much you’re enjoying it.

Then, your eyes drift down to his huge cock. It’s possibly the biggest one you've ever seen, and also the prettiest. You lick your own lips before looking back up at at his face. The way he’s looking at you with his dark eyes has you clenching around nothing.

“You’re okay to keep going?”

God, he’s so fucking sweet that you just want to fuck him until he can’t talk. You nod desperately, opening your legs wider.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

Your mouth drops open in a quiet moan when you feel Seungcheol’s thick cock push into your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. His large hands smooth down your thighs, squeezing and caressing so tenderly that it has your pussy clenching down on his throbbing dick. He swoops down to swallow your moan, lips messily colliding with yours.

His thrusts are so deep and slow that all you can do is gasp into his mouth. The fat tip of his cock is hitting your sweet spot so sharply that you have to buck your hips up to meet his movements. Seungcheol starts to trail his lips along your jaw and neck, gently nipping and kissing at the soft skin. The lewd squelch coming from your pussy is driving him insane. His entire cock is coated with your juices, and he’s never feel better than he does now.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.” His voice is dizzying, and all you can do is cry out in pleasure.

Seungcheol leans back, just watching you writhe under him. You’re so pretty as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing him until it feels almost hard to move. His hand slowly trails down between your bodies, and you let out a loud moan of his name when he starts to roll your puffy clit with his long fingers.

White cream coats his entire length, leaving a milky ring at the base of his cock. You wetly gasp out his name, your nails digging into his forearms, but Seungcheol is relentless. He’s like a hungry beast as he pounds into your gushing hole and all you can do is desperately try to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, look how you’re soaking daddy’s cock, baby. Making such a mess.” He groans, feeling your slick dripping down to his heavy balls.

You can only moan loudly for him to keep fucking you, already drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Seungcheol spits on your throbbing cunt, mixing in with your juices that are coating his dick. His bulbous tip is slamming against the spongy spot that has you seeing stars, forcing more slick out of you with every harsh thrust.

The coil in the pit of your stomach is close to snapping, and your mouth drops open as your thighs begin to tremble again.

“Fuh-Fuck, daddy! Love your big dick!”

His tantalizing smirk is so hot to you, and it makes you clench down on his cock and release another stream of slick. Seungcheol moans, eager to feel you cream on his cock like he’s dreamed of countless times. It just takes him angling his hips just right for his wish to come true.

Your toes curl in pleasure, a loud moan of his name tearing from your throats as a rush of wetness escapes you. Of course, Seungcheol keeps pounding you, roughly fucking you through one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cream all over my cock.” His voice rasps, thick with lust and adoration.

A thick white ring is at the base of his cock, slowly smearing down to his heavy sack. The sight is driving Seungcheol wild, almost as wild as the sight of your glistening folds stretching around him. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

“Fuck, please.” Your cry. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy!”

It’s like something inside Seungcheol snaps when he hears your pleas. In an abrupt movement, he presses your legs to your chest and starts to pound into your hot cunt. Your tight walls are sucking him in like they’re also begging to be painted with his seed.

“You want my cum, angel?” Seungcheol coos, gently caressing your soft legs as he slams his cock into your sweet spot, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Want me to fill you up until you’re carrying my baby, give Taehyun a little sibling?”

“Please!” You mewl when you feel his cock throb inside you. “Want to make you a daddy again. Stuff me full of your cum!”

Your voice is breathless and a little whiny, and Seungcheol feels like you’re making him lose his mind. “Fuck, baby. I’ll give it to you then. I’ll fill you up until I’m all you can feel.”

You continue to beg him for his cum, telling him how much you need it in your cunt. The more he fucks you, the less you can form actual words. Every fantasy you’ve had feels so dull compared to the real thing. All the times you’ve gotten off to the image of him fucking you or had wet dreams about him were absolutely obscene and filthy. Somehow, the reality was much better.

A rush of euphoria overwhelms you when you feel Seungcheol spills his cum directly against your cervix. You wrap your legs around him to make sure his cum goes as deep as possible. His hot load fills you up, painting every inch of your sensitive walls as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

You yank him down for a messy kiss, so desperate and needy for him that you don’t care about anything else. “Don’t stop, daddy.”

Seungcheol fucks his cum into you, wanting to mark you from the inside out now that he has you. He can feel your mixed releases slowly seep out of you, and he carnally thinks he’s going have to fill you up again so he can be sure he’s bred you properly.

Your hot cunt is throbbing almost painfully, bordering on that delicious burn of being overstimulated. But you’re still hungry for more. So when he releases you from the press he had you in, you roll over and stick your ass out at him. You look back, satisfied when you see his dark eyes are on your sloppy pussy that’s dripping with his cum.

“Keep fucking me, daddy. Want more of your cum.”

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol to plunge back into your tight cunt, pounding into you like a savage beast. His leaking tip slams into your spongy spot repeatedly, making you cry out in absolute ecstasy. His big balls are slapping against your sensitive nub, adding to the mind-blurring pleasure you’re feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your little cunt is still so fucking tight after being stretched open and bred.” Seungcheol growls, hands squeezing and slapping your ass as it bounces against his pelvis. “Creaming and dripping all over this cock, making a mess again.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he keeps fucking you with feral precision. “Fuck, daddy! So good!”

Seungcheol can feel your hot cunt clamping down on him again, and he lets out a deep moan. “Come for me again, baby. Show daddy just how good he’s making you feel.”

You can only mewl and whine, too list in the pleasure his big cock is providing you. Seungcheol’s thrusts become impossibly rougher and sharper. It feels like he’s rearranging your guts with how he’s pulling your pliant body to meet the snapping of his hips.

“Daddy!” You squeal in shock when he flips you on your side before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and continues to fuck you mercilessly.

This new angle stretches your sore cunt more while exposing it to the cool air. You can only imagine how filthy you look down there, but Seungcheol seems to love it. All the pleasure your feelings is driving you insane, and you can only feel an insane amount of pleasure taking over your mind.

“Come inside me, daddy!” You moan wantonly, desperate to feel his hot cum fill you up again.

His soaked cock throbs inside you, eager to release inside your tight pussy. “Want me to? You that desperate to be a mommy, baby?”

When you nod desperately, he focuses on making you come again so he can give you what you both want. Seungcheol gives you one sharp thrust before he leans back slightly to watch you squirt and cover his lower half in your release. Your body gently convulses as quiet mewls pour from your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.” Seungcheol groans as he keeps fucking into your hot cunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He keeps slamming in and out of your wet pussy desperately, eager for his own release. Seungcheol comes with a yell of your name, spilling his hot cum deep inside you and pumping you full. His cum spurts along your sore walls until it feels like there’s no room for more of it. It seeps out around his cock, leaking down to your ass and his heavy balls.

Seungcheol doesn’t slow down. The oversensitivity you’re both feeling makes him more ravenous. He obsessed with the sight of you trembling on his cock, caught between begging for a break and pleading for more. He fucks his cum into you, desperate to make it go as deep as possible.

Wet noises seep into your foggy mind, playing dully in the background to your muddles thoughts of sex and Seungcheol. He’s successfully fucked you stupid, and you’ve never felt better than you did now. Your cunt is filled to the brim, his seed coating your every inch of your core. At some point, his thrusts slowed into thorough grinds, sticky strings of arousal and cum connecting your most intimate parts.

Seungcheol doesn’t pull out. Instead he collapses next to you and tugs you closer. He shoves his face in your collarbone, inhaling your scent as he feels raw cock throb inside you.

You hug him closer to you, gently caressing his hair. It’s a peaceful silence that fills the room, and you were close to drifting off to sleep until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol nuzzles deeper into you, pressing a wet kiss on your soft skin. “Anything.”

“Why did Jeonghan think we were engaged in the first place?” You wonder, thinking it would be fine to ask this much since you have his cock and cum inside you.

There’s a pregnant pause until Seungcheol pulls back and looks at you with a slight pout. “That idiot wanted to set you up with his cousin. I had no other choice but to tell him you were already mine.”

You actually laugh, not believing this was the same man who told you to never overstep the boundaries he had. His pout is still there, and you lean in to kiss it right off his face. It’s languid and gentle, and leaves you feeling dizzy.

“Fine, but I still expect an actual ring.”

Seungcheol hugs you tighter, wondering if it’s too soon to show you the little black box he has in his nightstand.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

#seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #svt smut #svthub #scoups smut #svt x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol fanfic #svt x you #seungcheol x you #svt fic #scoups fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups x you

[everparanoid]

how genshin men hug you

various genshin men x gn! reader

characters: Alhaitham, Diluc, Itto, Neuvillette, Wriothesley

Alhaitham isn’t one for hugs, but he’s not against you snuggling into him as he reads, seated between his legs. You might have to ask him several times for a hug, and more often than not, you’ll be met with a ‘no’. However, on those rare occasions when he’s feeling tired and lazy, he might just pull you into a hug as he lounges around. If you try to talk while he’s resting his head on yours, he’ll shush you, not wanting his break to be disturbed. So, with Alhaitham, it’s less about the hugs and more about quiet, shared moments.

Diluc is a man of few words, but his hugs speak volumes. He may be reserved, even in private, but he won’t hesitate to give you a hug if you ask. He might not initiate them often, but he does enjoy these moments of closeness with you. His hugs are warm and comforting, making you feel safe and cherished. They might not last long, but they’re always memorable. If you were to hug him when he returns from defending Mondstadt in the middle of the night, he would welcome you into his side. He’d wrap an arm around you gently, allowing you to listen to his steady heartbeat, a reassuring reminder that he’s returned safely.

Itto is a true enthusiast when it comes to hugs. He’s the kind of person who will envelop you in a warm, enthusiastic embrace, regardless of where you are. Public or private, it doesn’t matter to him. His hugs are playful and full of energy. He’ll lift you off the ground, spinning you around in a whirl of joy. Especially after a rare victory in a Beetle Brawl, you can expect a celebratory hug from him. His hugs are innocent and endearing, often accompanied by a wide grin and exuberant cheers of happiness. It’s clear that Itto enjoys these moments of shared joy just as much as you do. His hugs are not just an expression of affection, but a testament to his vibrant and joyful spirit.

Neuvillette is a man who is reserved and formal, and he’s not familiar with the concept of a hug, even though he’s seen them during his time in Fontaine. The first time you hug him, it might be a bit awkward until he gets used to the close contact. Every time Neuvillette hugs you, it’s gentle and cautious, as if he’s still trying to figure out the correct way to do it. He doesn’t often ask for hugs, but when it starts to rain, that’s your sign that he could use one. His hugs can be unusually long because he doesn’t understand the socially acceptable duration for a hug, and you don’t want to correct him. Alternatively, they can be short but meaningful. If he’s feeling down, he might hold on a bit longer, and of course, you’re perfectly fine with that.

Wriothesley is a man who cherishes private moments of closeness. He’s the type to give you a full-body hug, much like the comforting embrace of a teddy bear. If he happens to retire to bed before you, he might fall asleep on top of you, his arms wrapped around your waist. More often than not, you’ll already be asleep when he comes to bed. In these instances, he’ll spoon you into his arms, providing a sense of security and warmth. While he may not be one for overt public displays of affection, when it’s just the two of you, he’s all about the hugs. You might often find yourself sitting in his lap as he reads the newspaper, one arm casually draped over your stomach, his head resting on your shoulder. It seems that Wriothesley has a particular fondness for your body heat, especially in the chilly depths of Meropide.

masterlist

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#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #itto x reader #neuvillette x reader #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #genshin fanfic #diluc headcanons #diluc ragnvindr #diluc imagines #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham imagines #neuvillette headcanons #neuvillette imagines #itto headcanons #itto imagines #genshin men

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Van Der Linde Gang's Fav Body Part On Their S/O

(Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Kieran Duffy, Sean Macguire, Eagle Flies)

Warnings: NSFW

Arthur Morgan - I’m under the belief his favorite body part would be something non sexual. He’d probably like your hands the most. Hand holding, hand kissing, etc… Especially if your hands contrast his greatly; gentle and soft to his calloused and rough. He’d probably do that thing where you guys press hands up against each other and just be fascinated by the size difference. Also loves to hold hands when you fuck, makes it so much more intimate and gives him a sense of security. 

John Marston - Ngl he’s probably a tits man. But he's subtle about it. Will never outwardly say it but you would catch him staring at your cleavage, or even just the outline of your breasts if you're wearing something form fitting. Type of guy to hold one of your boobs while he falls asleep. Definitely wakes up with a boner. 

Javier Escuella - Strangely enough, your ears. Love nipping them or sucking on your lobes. Even as a joke he'll blow into them or squeeze your ears to get a reaction out of you. Especially loves whispering dirty things into your ears while y'all are in public, and even during sex he'll do it. 

Charles Smith - Your tummy! Loves smoothing his hand over it, and if he can, he'll love squeezing or holding it. Only if you allow him to of course. Whenever y'all have sex he will just look on in fascination, and if y'all are on your sides he'll hold it or wrap his arms around your midriff. Definitely presses down on it when he fucks you.

Dutch Van Der Linde - 100% a tits guy. And is very overt. Thinks he's slick but he ain't. If you're wearing something flattering that accentuates your breasts he'll say "You look lovely, my dear" while his eyes slowly drift to your cleavage. Type of guy to say "I like your necklace" as an excuse to stare. Also plays around them with near obsession whenever he can. And going back on the necklace thing, will buy them for you so he can disguise his staring with "admiring how beautiful it looks on you"

Kieran Duffy - He'd also like your legs, but more specifically, your thighs. Even as a non sexual thing, he'll use them as a pillow and sleep peacefully. Is very gentle with you, and even during sex he'll ask before he can even touch them. Likes to put a hand on your thigh if you're sitting next to each other, runs soothing circles on em, gives reassuring squeezes 

Sean Macguire - Legs. Literally turns into an animal whenever he catches even a GLIMPSE of your legs. And he will straight up tell you he is looking. Insists on changing with you all the time just to see em, and during sex he'll probably give you a full leg massage just so he can palm and grope at them. Grabs at your calves and moves all the way up to your inners thighs gripping with a near bruising force. 

Eagle Flies - Ass man. Idky I just get a feeling. And I can come up with so many funny scenarios because of it. In private will slap it every chance he gets, if you walk past, if you bend over, if it's up in the air while you're laying in bed. If you get mad he'll apologize shamefully. Also I can imagine in public he's been caught by Paytah or even caught by his dad staring at your ass while talking to someone. During sex he definitely gropes it all the time, you’re bruised like 24/7. He’d probably BEG to try anal ngl. 

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption #red dead fanfiction #van der linde gang x reader #writing #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #javier escuella #Javier Escuella x reader #Charles smith #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #kieran Duffy #kieran Duffy x reader #eagle flies #eagle flies x reader #red dead redemption 2 smut

[deancaskiss]

for a long time, dean denies that there’s anything serious going on between him and cas. even if that’s what his heart yearns for. he tells himself over and over that cas just wants dean out of hunger, out of desire, because angels can’t fall in love… cas can’t fall in love.

but dean can’t stop himself from falling; it was too late from the very first touch, the very first rushed kiss. but it’s not serious. it’s not real….

until it is real.

until, one morning, cas comes into the kitchen, where sam and eileen and jack are all sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast as dean finishes making bacon. cas walks up behind dean and brushes a kiss across the back of dean’s neck, murmuring a soft, “hello dean.”

and when dean turns around, about to say good morning to cas even though he was startled by cas’ overt display of affection in front of everyone- an unspoken rule they’d never crossed before, that everything between them was for their eyes only- he realizes something monumental.

cas isn’t wearing his usual suit and trenchcoat. no. instead, he’s wearing dean’s led zeppelin tshirt that dean had been wearing yesterday- the one cas had thrown on the floor before they’d tumbled into bed between gasped breaths and desperate kisses- with one of dean’s hoodies tied around his waist.

before dean can say anything, cas leans in, pressing their lips together in a kiss; soft and tender, in a way cas has never kissed him before.

in the back of dean’s mind, he registers that this is the first time cas has ever worn something of his. the first time cas has walked around in dean’s clothes like they belong to him.

when dean breaks the kiss, cas has that beautiful soft smile on his face that makes dean feel weak in the knees. he knots his hand into the collar of cas shirt to steady himself… his tshirt that cas is wearing, and he utters in shock, “you’re wearing my clothes.”

cas laugh, rolling his eyes fondly as he says, “good morning to you too, dean.”

and that. that right there. that’s when dean realizes it is something serious. because when cas leans in again, and dean meets him halfway, the kiss is just as gentle and sweet as the last.

the kiss. cas wearing dean’s clothes. kissing right there in the kitchen at breakfast where their entire family is currently teasing them and loudly yelling about bets lost or won.

dean knows it now.

cas loves him, too.

#destiel #spn #supernatural #bex writing #tuserpris #becauseofthebowties #userda #usermoogs #useralison #archervale #thisisapaige #anztag #inacatastrophicmind #spxcekya #emeraldcas #deanncastiel #scottstiles #userdorksinlove #userbon #feathersforcas

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Glutton for Punishment | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello, hello! I am back back back again. My life has been busy, y'all. School is kicking my ass. But this fic has been like 94% complete for like a month, and I finally got to finish it! yay!

wordcount: 8939

Warnings: angst, self harm, Bucky's trauma

Bucky collapsed onto the bed with a defeated huff. The mattress rippled under his weight and jostled the computer resting on your thighs. His chest rose and fell with another dejected sigh. His meetings with Fury never went well- but they weren’t always bad. Sometimes, things between them were cordial. Neutral. This was not one of those times. Bucky wanted to sink into the bed and never come out. He wanted to dissolve into the earth and disappear. The only thing anchoring him to reality was, as always, you. 

“Hey, how’d it go, babe?” The comforting lilt of your voice floated through the air. Maybe drenching your words in overt positivity was too much, but it seemed necessary. Maybe if you could coat your voice in optimism, it would fix whatever plagued Bucky. But you knew it was useless to hope. 

He didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. Coming home to you after a bad day or a shitty meeting was always his saving grace; being near you brought him peace. But he hated bringing the shame home with him. 

“That bad, huh?” you ditched your laptop and laid next to him, propped up on one elbow. “What happened?”

Silence. He didn’t tear his eyes from the ceiling. Didn’t even blink. He just gazed upward- hopeless. 

In the quiet, your fingers traced up and down his arm. You pressed kisses to his shoulder. He always had a way of shutting you out before allowing you in. It wasn’t personal; it was just his process. He opted to suffer without your help until the pain ate away at him. And when there was almost nothing left, he tore down the walls and welcomed the onslaught of comfort. 

“He said it was my fault.” Bucky tried not to sound too pathetic. He knew you worried about him- a lot. Knew that his misery always hurt you. Seeing him in pain brought you nothing but heartache. But his efforts did nothing to hide the anguish in his voice. 

You didn’t want to make him repeat the whole ordeal, to relive whatever messed up shit Fury said to him- but you needed context. Your words were soft, your voice gentle. “He said what was your fault, baby?” Bucky didn’t deserve more blame, more guilt. Though none of what he did was his fault, a lifetime of remorse rested heavy on his shoulders after his Winter Soldier days. You wondered how much unjust blame he could carry before it crushed him. 

Bucky sighed, “All of it. Everything that went wrong on that last mission- the explosion, all those agents getting hurt-”

“What? You weren’t even the lead on that job- how is any of it your fault?” Heat rose in your chest. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Defending Bucky was your first instinct, your first priority. And while he accepted the shame with which Fury saddled him, you immediately turned to protection. To rage. 

Bucky shrugged, “he said I’m the most experienced, so I should’ve known better than to let the lead take our team into the lab.”

 “Wait- he said you should’ve argued with the mission lead?”

Bucky nodded. 

“But didn’t he reprimand you last month for that exact reason?”

Again, he nodded. 

“What the fuck?” Wrath sizzled beneath your skin. No one was allowed to treat Bucky this way- not even Fury. He contradicted himself and put his hypocrisy on full display, knowing Bucky hated himself too much to argue. 

“I can-” Bucky’s voice came out hollow. Empty. Guilt had him in a chokehold. “I can see where he’s coming from…”

“No, don’t do that.” It wasn’t a reprimand- but a reminder. You laced your fingers with his, “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

He refused to make eye contact. “I mean, I could’ve spoken up-”

“You weren’t even with them, were you? Didn’t Fury tell you to hit the warehouse on your own?”

He nodded.

“So how is any of it your fault, Buck?” Fury sent Bucky into a tailspin with almost no effort. He knew exactly which buttons to push, which wires to pull. Fury made him his puppet, his scapegoat. He made Bucky work harder than anyone else and never delivered the praise he deserved. Instead, he met Bucky’s efforts with tongue-lashings and bitter insults. With blame. 

“I don’t…” he shrugged. “I don’t know- but it feels like it’s on me. A lot of people got hurt and I am the most experienced. I should’ve said something-”

“But if you did, Fury would’ve called you into his office to tell you that you’re arrogant- like he did last time.” A deep breath filled your lungs and calmed your system; anger wouldn’t help Bucky. You needed to channel that energy into comforting him, easing his mind. 

You softened your tone, “You know you can’t win with him, Buck.”

“Maybe because I tried to kill him… twice.” Finally, he looked at you, “And I can handle being called arrogant- those agents got hurt, doll. That’s different.”

“I know it’s different. I’m just saying… you weren’t involved. You did what you were told- what Fury told you to do.” Your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into your touch. “And if he wants to get mad at you for that, he’s a piece of shit. He knows he fucked up, and he’s pinning it on you.”

Bucky pulled you close. He curled in on himself with you at his center, his head resting against your chest. The logical part of his brain believed everything you said. It disregarded Fury’s false accusations and willed the blame to dissipate. But the rest of him took Fury’s every word as gospel. It rejected your assurances, categorizing them as obligatory kindness from a significant other. Shame feasted on his soul. He didn’t want to feel this way, but it came easily. By now, it was second nature. 

“Thanks, doll…” He lifted his head and brought his face to yours, “I appreciate you.” He meant it; no one ever supported him like this. But you always listened. You were always there for him, even when he was too ashamed to look you in the eye. You showed him patience and kindness and led him out of the dark more times than he could count. 

He dotted a few soft kisses to your lips, “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

“Wait-” Your hand caught his as he tried to get up, “I love you.”

A shy smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. He once again met your lips with his, needier this time. “And I love you.”

He stripped off his shirt and, immediately, your eyes landed on it. By now, you knew better than to stare. But sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself.  

The first time it caught your eye, you couldn’t avert your gaze. You noticed it right away- how could you not? It drew your focus the first moment Bucky removed his shirt in front of you. You didn’t think anything could ever distract you from his perfect body- but you were wrong. 

A massive bruise splashed across Bucky’s skin. The cluster of broken blood vessels was dark at the center- nearly black. It exploded into by purples and blues that stained his right shoulder and eclipsed his chest. Sometimes, an angry, red haze leaked from the edges like a wine stain. Greens and yellows- signs of healing- colored the border every now and then. But no matter how many times you bore witness, they never seemed to overtake the tones of violet and navy. 

For whatever reason, this thing refused to heal.

On more occasions than you could count, you asked Bucky about this large indigo mark. And he always had an answer:

“Ran through a wall”

“Jumped out of a plane”

“That John Walker asshole hit me with Steve’s shield”

He did, indeed, have a dangerous job and a penchant for peril. For taking risks. But no one else on the team ever seemed to have a bruise like that. Even you received your fair share of stitches and broken ribs, but never anything as persistent as Bucky’s bruise. 

Wasn’t he a super soldier? Wasn’t he supposed to heal fast- really fast? His other injuries disappeared like they’d never happened; why did this bruise stick around? 

“I think you need to get that looked at,” you told him once, “it can’t be good that it never heals...”

Bucky shrugged it off with a smile. He kissed you on the forehead and thanked you for your concern. But he didn’t get it checked out. He downplayed the massive bruise eclipsing his body and moved on, just like he always did. 

“What are you lookin’ at?” Bucky quirked a brow at you, his shy smile making another appearance.

You shrugged, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s not- it’s not that bad,” Bucky did his best to hide his bruise with his vibranium hand, but the colors extended far past what he could cover. “I’m used to it.”

Something had to be wrong with him, right? Something inside his body had to be out of order. The first time you saw it- the first time you saw him without his shirt- was six months ago. How long could a bruise last? And how long did he have it before he showed it to you? 

Why hadn’t the serum fixed it by now?

Bucky was well past his expiration date. He lived more years than the universe intended, and his body suffered enough trauma for a hundred lifetimes. He was strong, he was a survivor. But every time you stole a glance at the inky spot on his skin, anxiety blocked your airway. Part of you wondered if this mark signaled his end. There was a chance that his body already started breaking down, that all those years of abuse caught up with him. Maybe his bruise was a harbinger. Maybe his days were numbered. Maybe he was dying. 

Maybe you were about to lose him.

Those kinds of thoughts pushed bile into your throat. You shoved them into the darkest corners of your mind and did your best to lock them away, but they reappeared from time to time just to hurt you. Taunt you. Bring you to tears. And while Bucky made his way into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, you remained fixated on the inky spot. On his demise. 

Bucky did his best to let the shower cleanse his mind. He told himself he’d let it all go- all the guilt and the blame. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But his shame didn’t run down the drain. It didn’t wash away with the warm spray of the shower. No, he remained coated in it, dripping with it, no matter how hard he scrubbed. And though it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he never welcomed its reemergence.

A sliver of levity wriggled into his chest as he emerged from the bathroom. He found you reading in bed, your brows knit together in that cute way he loved. But your focus shattered when he stepped into the bedroom. He watched you dogear your page and shut your book as he climbed into bed. 

“You don’t have to stop reading because of me, doll-” 

“I was only reading while I waited for you,” you extended a hand in his direction and tugged him closer. He didn’t need to know that you only opened your book to distract from your crippling anxiety about his condition. He didn’t need to know that you read the same paragraph over and over and over without retaining a word. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need any other form of entertainment.”

“Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes at you and gestured to the book resting on your chest, “I’m better than Dracula?”

“Way better. So, the guy drinks blood and sleeps in a coffin-” You shot him a wink and knocked your book to the floor, “big whoop.” A dramatic eye roll and a quick laugh accompanied your comments about Bram Stoker’s masterpiece. But a sudden seriousness banished your playful tone as you gave Bucky a once over. He didn’t look any better- not that he ever looked bad. But the hot shower did nothing to help him relax. All his muscles remained taught. His brow still furrowed. The tension in his jaw seemed to turn to concrete. He was hurting. 

“How you doin’, Buck?” A gentle hand smoothed over his shoulder and slid down his arm. “You okay?”

A manufactured smile spread across his face. His shoulders rose and fell in an all too casual shrug. “I’m fine- I’m good.” He couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

Another tug of his hand brought him closer. “You don’t seem fine…”

“No, really. I’m okay,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed kisses to your palm. He was the farthest thing from okay; it was written all over his face. And though he did his best to put on a façade for you, you saw through the cracks. A heaviness lurked behind the grin he wore. A deep sadness darkened his gaze. You knew he probably spent the entirety of his shower replaying Fury’s words and berating himself within an inch of his life. 

An extra helping of guilt dropped upon Bucky’s shoulders as he studied you. One of your nails dug into the cuticle of another. Your smile remained tight and tense. He could practically see the anxiety surging through your nervous system. And it was all his fault. You were worried about him, upset about him. How could he do this to you when you brough him nothing but peace?

He found it in him to take a deep breath, to let his shoulders fall a fraction of an inch. “It’s just gonna take a little time for me to get out of the shitty headspace Fury put me in. I’ll be alright-” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I promise.”

Fucking Fury. He seemed to allow everyone else chance after chance; he granted grace to every other member of the team. Everyone but Bucky. “You wanna get some sleep, then?” you cupped Bucky’s cheek, “hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Bucky nodded. He reached over and flipped off his bedside lamp before giving his pillow a few adjustments. He got settled under the covers and waited for you to do the same- but you didn’t. You laid there, watching him. 

“You gonna turn your lamp off, doll?”

“Not until you’re all situated.”

Bucky looked down at his perfectly arranged covers and then back at you, “I’m um, I think I’m settled, baby.”

You quirked a brow at him, “Are you though? Come on-” you found his hand under the covers and pulled him closer. “Assume the position, Barnes.”

He let out a labored, tired laugh. “Baby, thank you, but I can’t. My hair’s still wet, you’re gonna be cold-”

“I don’t care- you had a rough day.”  You could practically see the war raging within Bucky’s psyche. He was dying to crawl into your embrace a disappear into your warmth. But he couldn’t- not tonight. 

“It’s okay, doll. You don’t have to, it’s-” 

“Come onnn, Buck. You knowwww you waaaant toooooo.” You gave your chest a few light pats, beckoning him to you. “I know it always makes you feel better.”

Of course, he wanted to. Something about resting his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and feeling your hands in his hair eased his soul. Even on his darkest, most soul-crushing days, he found solace with you. But guilt still gnawed at him; Fury’s rant played on a constant loop inside his head. And after what he’d supposedly done, he didn’t feel as though he deserved your love. 

“Baby, I know you feel bad; And I know you’re trying to deprive yourself. But guilty or not- which you are not-” you gave his hand a squeeze, “you deserve comfort.”

A touch of heartbreak colored your voice. You were desperate to help Bucky, nearly begging him to grant himself some grace. Some care. In his attempts to hurt himself by staying far from your embrace, he’d hurt you instead. He’d made you sad, filled you with worry. He wondered if he’d ever be able to do anything right. 

In an instant, he did as you asked; he’d do anything to make you feel better. His head rested against your chest, his wet hair dampening your shirt. It sent a rush of goosebumps over your skin- but you didn’t care. A deep sigh left Bucky’s chest as he melted against you. He often swore his body was made to fit yours, that he only existed to touch and be touched by you. 

“See? Isn’t that better?”

“Mhmm…” he sighed, “much.”

You ran a hand through his wet hair, “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. Okay?” You flicked off your lamp and wrapped your arms around Bucky, willing every ounce of your love into his body. He’d feel better in the morning- you knew he would. He just needed time and rest and a little love. And you gave him more than he ever dreamed of. 

But around two in the morning, a strange sound vibrated on the edges of your consciousness. The dense ‘thud’repeated endlessly, like an eternal metronome. It resounded inside your head, mixing itself in with your dream until it finally woke you. 

With your face still smushed into your pillow, you muttered Bucky’s name. The sound stopped- maybe you imagined it. Maybe it really was just part of your dream. Silence settled over your room once again and lulled you back to sleep. 

But only a few minutes later, that sound woke you once again.

Your words came out sloppy, heavy with sleep. “Whass tha noise?” 

No answer. 

“Baby,” you said, more alert this time, “You hear that?”

Bucky didn’t respond. 

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. There was no sign of disturbance or struggle; nothing out of the ordinary caught your eye. Everything was in its place- except Bucky. And when you pressed your palm against his side of the bed, the sheets lacked any remnants of his warmth. 

This wasn’t like him- not anymore, anyway. Back when you first got together, Bucky left the room when he woke from a night terror. He’d slip out of bed and escape to the living room, forcing himself to withstand his panic attack all alone. But one night, you found him on the living room floor- desperate for breath. He clutched the corner of the rug and gritted his teeth, willing the anxiety to receded. 

He flinched when you touched him; he didn’t hear you approach over the pounding in his ears. But the second he saw you, he reached for you. His sickly white knuckles regained their color as he released his fists and collapsed against you. He dropped his head into your lap, falling forward with the weight of his trauma. And he allowed your voice to soothe his racing mind. He let you guide him out of the agony. 

Of course, he apologized for waking you. For inconveniencing you. Of course, you wouldn’t hear it. And when the panic finally subsided, he let you walk him back to bed. He buried his face in your chest and thanked you a million times over. After that night, you made him promise to wake you when these things happened- no matter what time it was. You made him promise not to suffer in silence. And he agreed. 

You didn’t know he had his fingers crossed. 

“Buck?” the anxious pounding of your heart boomed in your chest. “Baby?” You kicked the blankets from your body and abandoned your bed. Slivers of light made their way through the blinds and splashed across the floor, allowing you to search through the darkness. He wasn’t sitting on the floor or in the armchair near the window. Nor did you find him in the en suite bathroom.  

“Bucky?” The hall was empty and the office void of Bucky’s presence. And while you searched for him, the sound refused to cease. It echoed through seemingly every fiber of the apartment. It haunted every space. Unfounded worries threw themselves at you, fighting to topple you to the ground. What if Bucky was hurt? What if he was gone? 

No- he was fine. Of course, he was. Right? He had to be. The home you shared was safe. Nothing here could hurt or harm him in any way. 

Well, maybe not nothing.

The thudding of your heart grew loud in your ears, nearly eclipsing the mystery sound all together. Part of you even doubted the existence of the noise- maybe it was just your anxiety getting to you. Maybe Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing a late-night snack, perfectly safe and happy. 

But when you rounded the corner into the living room, all doubt fell away. Shards of your heart did the same as you stood in shock, watching the source of the sound reveal itself. 

Bucky sat on the floor near the window, his back resting against the couch. 

His metal fist hammered against his right shoulder again and again, beating the flesh a sickly blue. 

The utter shock stole your breath, forcing it violently from your lungs. A burning erupted from your chest and spread through your every cell like wildfire. The floor seemed to tilt and ripple as a wave of dizziness sent you nearly collapsing into the closest wall. And through all of it, the sound persisted. The sickly thud of metal striking skin, striking bone.

But there was no time for your shock or sadness or heartbreak. Bucky needed you.

“Buck? Hey-” In only a few strides, you made your way to his side. But he didn’t look at you. He didn’t meet your eyes when you sat down in front of him, nor did he stop his assault. “Bucky, baby, can you look at me?” 

He didn’t. He simply forced his hand against his chest over and over, no matter the pain. 

“Bucky,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It came out more strained, more desperate than you’d ever heard it. The sight of Bucky doing this to himself almost made you sick, the sound covered you in goosebumps. A flood of saliva rushed into your mouth, warning you of the impending threat of vomit- but you forced it down.

Every time you asked about it, every time you wondered what caused that bruise- you never imagined it was self-inflicted. 

“I need you to stop, okay?” Your words came out frantic, “Can you- can you just look at me for a second?”

His hollow gaze remained fixed on the floor. Anguish twisted his features, pulling his face into a pained mask. But his eyes held no life. 

“Please-” your palm landed on his bruised shoulder mere seconds before the next strike. The force of his vibranium fist was sure to shatter your hand, but you didn’t care. You’d do anything to stop him from hurting himself. Anything to ease his pain. And if you couldn’t make him stop, maybe you could soften the blow. 

But just as his fist once again neared his shoulder, he stopped. “Move,” his voice was low, almost timid.

“No.”

“Doll,” his eyes remained downcast, “I need you to move your hand.”

You refused. “I’m not gonna move, Buck. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself.”

Finally, he dragged his shame-filled gaze upward. His despondent look sliced through you, cutting right to the bone. This was worse than the vacant stare he wore moments ago; this was utter misery. “Please…” his voice caught in his throat, barely pushing its way past the tension. “Move.”

But your hand remained; you’d keep it there until the end of time if you had to. 

Warm, salty tears breached your lips as you spoke, and only then did you realize you were crying. “Buck, why are you doing this?”

“Because I know you won’t.” He clenched and unclenched his metal fist in a never-ending cycle, itching to resume his efforts. “None of you will. Not Sam. Not Hill. Not ever Fury. So, I have to.”

“Of course, we won’t. Why- Why would we?” It was an unfathomable thought. 

“I need- I deserve to be punished. I deserve to face consequences for my actions.” The words fell from his lips in what resembled a recitation, like he had a script to follow. Like he’d said this before. “There are always consequences…” Again, he pulled his hand into a fist; the vibranium whined under his strength. “There have to be consequences.”

“There were consequences- your meeting with Fury? That was the consequence.”

He shook his head, “It’s not enough- people got hurt.”

“It’s more than enough…” With your free hand, you reached for Bucky’s cold fist. He resisted at first, almost scared to be without his method of punishment. But he never could resist your touch. One at a time, you uncurled his fingers from his tight fist. You pressed his cold palm against your chest and held it there, allowing the beat of your heart to vibrate through the metal. “Especially because you didn’t do anything wrong. People got hurt- but it’s not your fault.”

Bucky ached to maim himself. He needed to feel pain. Needed to get what he thought he deserved. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand from your chest. And though you blocked his bruise and made punishment impossible, he liked the way your palm felt against his black and blue skin. It was the one part of him you always shied away from for fear of hurting the already tender flesh. But your touch soothed the deep ache.

“Baby, how…” you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “how often do you do this?” You weren’t sure you wanted the answer; just the thought of Bucky doing this to himself day in and day out filled your chest with storm clouds. But you needed to know.

His words held a deep shame, “Whenever I deserve it.”

“Buck, you’ve had that bruise for at least six months...”

He shrugged, “I deserve it a lot.”

Everything inside you burst into flames. You wanted to tear Hydra apart, to destroy them for what they did to Bucky. They altered his sense of self so violently, so irreparably, that they changed who he saw in the mirror. He viewed himself only as a vehicle for destruction, a receptacle for other peoples’ wrongs. They drilled into him an acceptance of abuse, of pain, of torture. And now, he didn’t know how to operate without it. 

“No, you don’t- you don’t deserve this.” A small quiver forced its way into your voice, “even if this whole thing was your fault- which it wasn’t- you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Sometimes, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend the sentiment that he didn’t deserve pain and suffering; that he wasn’t always to blame. It was almost like you spoke different languages. Shuri may have eliminated the Winter Soldier programming and rendered his trigger words useless, but she couldn’t remove his shame. His guilt. His instinct to assume blame.  

“I can’t do anything right-” His right hand gripped the edge of the rug. He needed some way to release his tension, his anxiety. The fabric bunched inside his fist and twisted with his every move. 

“It seems like no matter what I do- or don’t do- someone ends up hurt. That says something about me, doesn’t it?” 

“No. It doesn’t.” You slowly removed your hand from his metal wrist and found his right fist. He eased the tension in his grip with your help and released the corner of the rug. It fell crumpled against the hardwood, struggling to regain its shape. “Buck, you always say that you blame yourself because you think you’re a bad person. But I actually think you blame yourself because you’re a good person.”

He gave a small shake of his head. 

“You’re willing to shoulder whatever guilt or blame other people put on you- regardless of whether you deserve it- because you’re not selfish.” He was, in fact, the least selfish person in the world. He’d set himself on fire to keep you warm. Would move heaven and earth to make you smile. He was loyal, devoted. He cared about you, about his friends, without ever putting himself first. 

“And you haven’t buried yourself in ego or pride like some of the other guys we work with.” 

Bucky let out a soft laugh. 

No, he didn’t bury himself in ego; he had no ego. His self-image wasn’t inflated or overexaggerated. He just wanted to do his best. To help. To offset with light some of the darkness he caused. 

“And maybe it’s your way of seeking redemption- not that you need to be redeemed,” you gave his hand a squeeze. “But maybe part of you feels like if you accept enough responsibility, it’ll make up for the things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier.” 

He let out a sigh from somewhere deep within him, somewhere he didn’t know he had. It seemed to him like he’d been holding on to this truth, this breath, since the day he escaped. And here, in the darkness, he released it. “I just… I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

“That’s the thing Buck,” you gently stroked a few fingertips across his massive bruise, “You never were.”

His forehead fell against yours. The two of you sat there, motionless, for what felt like forever. Cars moved on the streets below. Thunder rolled through the sky. Rain drops tapped against the large windows. But neither of you noticed. 

“If I move this hand-” you tapped your once again fingers against his bruised shoulder, “are you gonna do it again?”

He shook his head. 

With great hesitancy, you removed your palm from the evidence of his self-inflicted punishment. It looked worse in the eerie 2am lighting, like a black hole formed on his skin; you feared it might envelope him completely if you let it. Your lips replaced your hand, leaving the softest of kisses across his skin. Bucky let loose a small sound- something like a whimper- as you traced the bruise with your mouth. He let a few tears slip down his cheeks. 

“Thank you…”

You took a moment to drink him in. He was stronger than humanly possible. Hugely muscular. Nearly indestructible. But in the middle of the night on the floor of your living room, he looked so small. So fragile. His shoulders caved forward, and his read remained bowed. His voice wavered. His right hand shook ever so slightly. He was a man haunted, possessed by his past. Fearing the future. He was hurt. Broken. Lost in others’ perceptions of himself. He lay trapped under his need for validation from those around him. He sought approval from people who never dreamed of granting it. 

You wondered if he’d ever be free from his ghosts, or if they’d follow him until he became one himself. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “All I ever want is to be there for you when you need me.” The tremor in your voice matched Bucky’s. Pure hurt rendered the air around you thick and heavy. You ached for Bucky, and he, in return, ached to be anyone but himself. 

“What do you wanna do? We can go back to bed. Or if you don’t feel like sleeping, we can hang out in here and watch some tv.” You ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, “Up to you.” 

Bucky’s mind still raced. His brain sat stewing in a deep pit of sorrow and anguish. But he was tired- exhausted. And while his mind wanted to stay up for a while, he let his body decide. His chest and shoulder screamed with pain. His skin stung. Each breath forced a sharp agony into his consciousness; he knew he must’ve cracked a rib. “Let’s-” he grimaced as an inhale filled his lungs, “let’s go back to bed.”

As gently as you could, you helped Bucky from the floor. He smiled when your hand found his as you led him in the direction of the bedroom. The two of you shuffled down the dark hall in silence with no clue what to say. Bucky wanted to apologize; you wanted to drown him in promises of your love. 

Bucky stopped short when you paused, almost running into you. You turned to him suddenly, eying his bruise in the dim light. “You go ahead, okay? I’m gonna grab you an ice pack.”

“Doll, thank you, but I’m fine-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “does it hurt?”

He shrugged; the motion made him wince. “I mean, yeah. But it’s-”

“Exactly.” You pushed up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m gonna get you an ice pack. You get your ass to bed- I’ll be there in a second.”

Bucky whispered a ‘thank you’ and headed in the direction of the bedroom, leaving you alone. But just as he turned the corner down the hall, guilt wrapped around his ankles like a ball and chain. He was stuck; his need to apologize rendering him frozen. He watched you turn in the direction of the kitchen and wondered what he did to deserve you. “Hey, doll…” he called after you. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I promise.”

“But I-”

 “You’re doing your best. You’re coping in the only way you know how. That’s not something to be sorry for.”

Bucky shrugged, winced, and disappeared into the bedroom, eager to escape your line of sight. Everything you did, you did for him. And though that knowledge should’ve eased Bucky’s soul, it only added to his guilt. He marked yet another tally to the long, long list of ways in which he didn’t deserve you. 

The walk to the kitchen wasn’t long- but it provided a sliver of extra time for you to cope in private. If Bucky knew just how much this upset you, how heartbroken you were, he’d never forgive himself. He, instead, would add that knowledge to his ever-growing mountain of shame. He’d adopt a new method of self-punishment, something more subtle, easier to hide. And he’d never express his guilt or shame to you ever again, all to save your feelings. You couldn’t do that to him; he deserved an outlet, a sounding board, a space to vent. You’d never dream of robbing him of that. 

“Alright, here we go,” you pushed open the bedroom door. “I got you one of the big ones, cause that thing is massive, and-” If you didn’t look up at the right moment, you would’ve crashed right into Bucky. 

He stood near the foot of the bed, just inside the door, almost vibrating with anxiety. It rolled through him in waves and placed tremors in his hands. He didn’t stand a fighting chance. 

His massive frame looming in the darkness almost blocked your path completely- and scared the hell out of you. “Shit-” You tripped over your own feet and stumbled backward, but Bucky wouldn’t let you fall.

He caught you in the nick of time, snatching you from the air and righting you on your feet. “Oh, hey- I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Without a word, you pressed the towel-wrapped ice pack to his skin. Though he detested the cold, the sensation awarded him much needed relief. A deep sigh left his chest as his pain receptors deadened and the constant, months-long throbbing subsided. This was the first thing to put his pain on pause in- he couldn’t remember how long.

You searched his face for any indicators of discomfort, “How does that feel?”

All he could do was nod. The two of you stood there a while as Bucky drank in the relief. The muscles in his shoulders released their tension, his breaths came a bit easier. But something dark lurked beneath his quiet surface. 

“Such a gentleman, waiting for me to come back before getting in bed,” you threw him a wink.  

Bucky’s attempted laugh came out broken, disjointed. To his credit, he tried to laugh for real. He wanted to put this whole night behind him and slide into bed with you. Under the covers, surrounded by your body heat, nothing could hurt him. The skeletons of his past couldn’t claw out of the ground and wreak havoc on his psyche. But a nagging dread yanked at his heart. 

He couldn’t pretend things were resolved. He couldn’t forget his troubles and intertwine his body with yours like the knit of a well-loved sweater. The crushing weight of Fury’s blame sat atop his shoulders, growing heavier by the second. But he couldn’t find it in him to tell you, to ask you for help. 

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep. Okay?” You tucked the ice pack into Bucky’s hand and started toward your side of the bed, “I know you’ve gotta be exhausted.”

But Bucky didn’t follow. He didn’t join you, didn’t even nod. He stood there, stuck, his feet anchored to the floor. The cold pack ate through his nerve endings until his hand went numb. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill his lungs. They felt shallower, somehow- like they lost all capacity. 

His deadened fingers fell open, allowing the ice pack to fall against the floor. The sound pulled your focus, halting your efforts to right the sheets and blankets. 

“Buck?”

He didn’t answer. 

“Hey…” Quick steps brought you face to face with his empty stare. “Is everything-”

His knees met the hardwood as the weight of his anxiety forced him into submission. He fell against the cold floor with a sickening thud, his body shaking with the force. His head bowed; his spine curved forward. Ragged inhales forced their way into his ever-constricting lungs.

“Please-” he begged through choppy breaths, “if you won’t let me do it myself, I need- I need you to.”

“Buck, I’m-”

“I need you to hurt me.”

His words gutted you. 

“Baby, no.”

He begged over and over for punishment. For pain. 

Bucky fell against you the moment you joined him on the floor. His head lay buried in your neck, his sharp breaths fanning your skin. He begged through the tears, through the torment, for pain. And you refused. Instead, you gave him the lightest, softest affections you could manage. 

Under different circumstances, your gentle touch would’ve saved him. It would’ve brought him comfort in his moment of distress, grounded him during a bout of panic. But he didn’t want kind hands. For the first time, your soft touches prolonged the agony. The light circles you rubbed against his back filled him with impending doom. With misery. He wanted torture. Agony. 

And even if he were dying, he’d willingly sacrifice his last breath to ask for punishment. 

As carefully as you could, you helped Bucky lay down on the floor. How his body continued to run remained a mystery to you. He was drained, physically and emotionally. He was hurt. Panic ravaged his nervous system and pumped him full of cortisol. He was running on empty. 

“Let’s try to relax a bit, okay? Let’s try to breathe-”

He shook his head against the rug, “No, I need- I need it. I need you to- can you…” His words came out weak- but desperate.

Your hands raked through his hair and massaged his knotted muscles. Over and over again, you swore your love to him. You showered him in assurances and words of kindness. And though he was grateful when sleep won him over, it didn’t stop his efforts. Even as he finally dozed off, he begged. 

“P- please…” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering. “Need you… need you to.” His hand twitched, his brow furrowed. “Hurt- hurt me.” Hearing it didn’t get any easier. 

For what must’ve been the millionth time, you refused. 

And while Bucky slept in your arms, you remained wired. Every cell in your body swam in a cocktail adrenaline and cortisol. You wondered if you’d ever sleep again.  Just when you thought Bucky’s story couldn’t get any darker, it seemed to do just that. His life was all shadows and wormholes wrapped in an inky abyss. No stars, no moon. Just shapeless, unsettling, endless night. 

He deserved better. 

The sun rose as you fell asleep. Your mind shut off; your body gave out. Thinking yourself in circles while Bucky slept in the safety of your arms depleted your every ounce of energy. Worrying this much didn’t seem healthy; you didn’t think it was even possible to feel such deep concern. You never knew how taxing crying could be. But Bucky was worth it- hands down. 

No part of you wanted to fall asleep; Bucky couldn’t be left unsupervised. But a biological need for rest demanded you get some shut eye. And while you slept off the gut-wrenching night you’d spent with Bucky, anxiety seeped into your dreams. Images of Bucky maiming himself flashed behind your eyes. You saw him bloodying his body, abusing himself. His bruise haunted you. 

Waking in bed threw you for a loop. Only a few hours ago, you’d dozed off on the throw rug covering your bedroom floor. But when you opened your eyes, you found yourself snuggled under the duvet with Bucky’s body under yours. His arms held you tight, your face nuzzled into his neck. This was how things were supposed to be. 

It was then you realized- your head lay against his bruise. Even in your sleep, you did your best to protect him from himself. He wouldn’t dare strike his shoulder and risk hurting you. But the weight of your skull had to hurt him, didn’t it? He was sore, miserably so. Just the pressure of your palm resting against his bruise the night before made him wince- surely, your head was too much. With the utmost caution, you pulled your head from his chest.

“It’s okay- doesn’t hurt,” his voice was weak, full of exhaustion. You didn’t know he was awake. 

“Oh. Okay, good. I, um,” you looked around for a few seconds. “I don’t remember getting in bed.”

“We didn’t- well, you didn’t.” He couldn’t believe that after everything he put you through the previous night- all the pain, the heartache, the worry- he let you fall asleep on the floor. It was selfish of him, inconsiderate. He should’ve insisted that you get in bed. He should’ve done what you asked and crawled under the covers with you. He failed you- again. “I didn’t want you to sleep on the floor…” 

Your lips met his skin in a chain of soft kisses, “You know I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” he returned every kiss you granted him.

He woke nearly half an hour after you finally dozed off and found you curled up against him. Your head rested against the cold hard wood; the itchy rug left marks against your skin. A small shiver rattled up your spine and pushed you closer to Bucky’s warm embrace; it was too cold for you to sleep without a blanket. His body begged him to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t- not yet. He lifted you from the floor, his shoulder aching with the effort, and tucked you into bed with all the care in the world. Only then could he fall asleep once again. 

“I’m sorry about- about all of it,” he said. “Last night was-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you pulled your face from his chest, “I just wanna know what that was about.”

Bucky hoped that acting innocent would save him. “What?” Maybe if he pretended like he didn’t know what you were talking about, you’d move on. Maybe you’d tell him to forget it and save him the explanation. You didn’t.

“When you asked me to…” you gave a small shake of your head, “to hurt you.” The pain in your voice sliced through Bucky. He wondered if words could make him bleed. 

“Oh. Yeah. That was… I was out of line,” his jaw tensed. “That wasn’t okay. I know I made you uncomfortable- I’m sorry. I never wanna upset you. I was being stupid. And selfish. It wasn’t fair of me-”

The shame practically dripped from Bucky’s lips. You could almost see in running down his chin, staining his skin. He expressed his remorse for things that weren’t his fault, for things he couldn’t control. He told you how sorry he was for his trauma responses and the anxiety that held him hostage. Maybe one day, he’d believe you when you told him he didn’t have to apologize. Today was not that day. 

“I’m just worried about you, Buck. And I wanna help in any way I can-” you took a deep breath, “I just can’t help in that way.”

“I know.”

“Can you maybe tell me- can you help me understand?”

He remained silent for a long while. If he stayed quiet long enough, he could avoid any further distress on your part. With his silence, he could provide solace. But no. You had a penchant for knowing what made Bucky tick, no matter the pain it caused you. 

Your unflinching stare drilled through him until he couldn’t take it any longer. “I needed you to hurt me because that’s what I’m used to. I’m used to punishment,” he finally said. “Because when I fucked up at Hydra, there were consequences. They’d beat me within an inch of my life to get the message across.”

Of course, this was a sad truth you already knew. But hearing it aloud- from his lips- gutted you. The image of a cowering, broken Bucky sent bile rushing up your throat. You could see him lying in a cell somewhere, his blood staining the concrete as Rumlow tore him apart. And of course, he’d never fight back- he couldn’t. Not unless ordered to. 

“And now, that’s what I’m accustomed to,” he rested a hand against his bruise, almost on instinct. “I don’t know how to operate without it. I thought I’d be happy to never experience it again but… I feel like I need it.”

Showing Bucky kindness and understanding sat atop your priority list- but you couldn’t grasp his perspective. It didn’t make sense. He lived a life so foreign to you, so utterly other, that the things he said often left you confused. While the two of you had many similarities and things in common, some experiences would simply never be relatable. Some stories could never be shared. 

And similar to how Bucky couldn’t understand your flagrant disregard for locking the front door, you couldn’t fathom why he’d beat himself blue.  

“Why, Buck?” It wasn’t that you wanted to know. No, the truth could only serve to hurt you. But you needed to understand. You needed to untangle every knot within Bucky’s psyche and help mend his frayed edges. In order to help him, you had to first grasp his perspective. “Why do you ‘need’ it?”

“Because I know I deserve it.” The words came out course, almost aggressive. Bucky shot you a sheepish look, his method of a wordless apology. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer, his tone more even. “I’ve been conditioned to expect it. And waiting for that pain is- it’s torture. It’s almost worse than the punishment itself.” 

He thought back on all the beatings he received as result of fucking up missions. On one occasion, they broke all twelve of his ribs in one sitting. Another time, they turned almost his entire body blue with bruises. But the times they made him wait it out were far worse than any bloodshed. He jumped at every sound, lost the ability to think. To sleep. To breathe. Every moment fell prey to the anticipation of agony. Bucky shuddered. 

“I keep expecting pain. I feel like I have to look over my shoulder.” The urge to tear himself apart scratched at the inside of Bucky’s skull. If he could just deliver his punishment- if he could just get what he knew was coming- he’d be okay. By destroying his body, he could soothe his mind. But with you so close, staring at him with your blood shot, heartbroken eyes, he was stuck. “It’s like this sense of impending doom that doesn’t end unless I get what I know is coming.”

Things fell quiet as you thought over his words. Anxiety was an old friend you knew well. It accompanied you through everything, never leaving your side for more than a few days. But what Bucky described- that was the stuff of nightmares. That was misery. 

“Hang on,” you tripped over a detail in his story, “then what happened last night?” You didn’t mean to sound skeptical- it wasn’t like that at all. You believed every word Bucky said. One part, however, didn’t quite make sense. “Last night, you got your punishment. You got the pain. Why did you ask me to-”

He sighed, “Last night was different. You caught me. I had to stop- I’ve never done that before. I’ve never stopped right in the middle. I was only out there a little while before you found me.” His vibranium hand pulled into a fist and slowly released. He did this time and time again as the urge hurt himself gnawed at him. “I didn’t do enough. It felt like holding in a sneeze or something. And when we came in here to go to sleep, I still had this sense of looming pain, an impending punishment. And I knew you wouldn’t let me give it to myself. So, I asked you to do it.” 

The far-away look in his eye dissolved as he came screeching back to the present. Guilt dragged his features downward into a near scowl. “But I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” The remorse weighed more than he could shoulder. If he thought he knew what guilt felt like before, he was wrong. 

“It’s okay, Buck.” You knew the memory of Bucky begging you for punishment would haunt you forever. It took up prime real estate in your mind and cut you deeper each time you paid it attention. But he couldn’t help it; this was part of his journey. When you started dating Bucky, you knew he wasn’t a ‘regular’ person. Darkness and demons followed him wherever he went, filling his mind with horrors most people could never imagine. Of course, there were going to be speed bumps and rough patches on the road of your relationship. But he never did anything with malice in his heart. He was simply trying to survive. “I know you’re just doing your best-”

“My best is pretty shitty.”

He was always so callous with himself, so unforgiving. It wasn’t fair. “Baby, you’ve made a lot of progress.” He was a completely different person than he was a few months ago. He’d worked hard every day to wade through his trauma and find himself on the other side- all while saving the world. “But it doesn’t all have to happen at once. You can’t heal from everything in one fell swoop. It’s not linear. It’s a slow process-”

“Really slow.” He let out a huff and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Part of him wanted to run; he couldn’t believe he’d subjected you- the kindest, most loving person on earth- to this corner of his awful reality. But he knew being without you was a fate worse than death. Worse than Hydra. 

“I don’t want to do this-” he motioned toward his bruise. “I don’t want to hurt myself. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to heal the part of me that’s always looking over my shoulder for a punishment.”

You smoothed his hair back and let your hand drift down his cheek, “You don’t have to do it on your own, Buck. Maybe you should talk to someone-”

He shot you a pointed look.

“Not Dr. Raynor. Someone else. Someone with empathy.” 

Bucky gave a firm nod and a quiet laugh. “Okay, yeah. That works. 

“And in the meantime, whenever you feel that impulse, I want you to tell me, okay? I want to help you through in whatever way I can.”

He tried to protest, but you silenced him. “I’m in this with you- full stop. I’m with you for all the hard stuff and the things you hate about yourself. I’m always in your corner.”

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you as close as possible, relishing in the feeling of your heart beating against his skin. 

“This is a pain-free household, okay? We don’t do punishments here. We don’t hurt ourselves, and we don’t hurt each other.” You wiggled a hand free and offered Bucky your pinky, “promise?”

Not hurting you was a given; Bucky would never dream of causing you pain. But refraining from hurting himself was another story. The need sometimes possessed him, drove him to harm himself when the guilt grew too heavy. The look in your eyes, though, pushed him to promise you. You held such love for him, such adoration. And he knew you meant every word you said. You were going to help him through, to support him, no matter what. 

He linked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Good.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away, “hey, do you have Fury’s address?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Uh, yeah. I think it’s in my notebook in the office. Why?”

In one swift motion, you slithered from Bucky’s arms and slid out of bed. “Oh, no reason,” you sighed as you headed for the door, “I’m just gonna egg his house.”

———————

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[helaensa]

i’m not very associated with show jonsa, but something i have to say about it is the subtle love that those two had for each other, platonic or romantic, their relationship unfolds through nuanced and muted manifestations of love, emphasizing understated gestures, unspoken sentiments, and quiet interactions instead of overt displays, think about it,

when sansa gives him a cloak, it’s not only a gesture to imply that she cares for him even in small ways no one had bothered to do, but it also refers to the bridal cloak that is used to cover the bride and implies that she’s now under her husband’ protection and belongs together. it is a subtle way of letting him know that she care for him, want to protect him, and that now they are one fighting for their home.

they also argue and seem to not stand each other but the truth is that they cannot stand the idea that the other is in danger, that is why they lose their temper among themselves, against others who threaten them and in front of their bannermen like jon going into fits of rage at the mere mention of sansa’s name and sansa losing her mind in front of their bannermen at the thought of jon leaving winterfell (by dianaatrevor’s post).

when jon leaves the north, he tells us that it is part of him and that he’s leaving it in good hands. he entrusts this very important part of himself to sansa and then, when he kills his queen, it’s not for duty, this time he does it for love of the north (sansa) because that’s what they do, keep each other alive. sansa does the same, returns to the one place she swore never to return, for him, and she doesn’t do it alone, but with a whole army.

plus, there was even a scene planned between jon and ghost where he told to take care of her, and as always he’s giving her another part of himself freely.

that’s the kind of love they have, a gentle and restrained portrayal of romantic connections and it’s tragic that they didn’t return home together, it’s sad that they didn’t keep their promise to always go together, but the survival of the other is more important to them than their own unspoken feelings. the truth is that they are one of the few loves in the show and it can be interpreted in different ways and if i were stronger i’d enjoy it.

#game of thrones #jonsa

[hvtqo]

🩷 headcanons —alhaitham as your bf

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: fluff, just cutesy stuff i daydream about

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warning: nsfw at the end, afab! reader.

・❥・about:

just a bunch of hcs of how i think haitham would act as your boyfriend <33 there's some participation from kaveh as well ! (no, not a threesome or anything 😭)

↓ read under the cut ↓

❛ pre-relatioship ༉‧₊˚

haitham wouldn't be the first to give the green light in the relationship. he would definitely observe you and wait until you show signs of liking him, but he would do so very subtly, and probably wouldn't make the first step directly himself.

but i do feel like he'd be the type to make up excuses to be around you. and you'd be confused because he wouldn't be overt about it either. like a cat just being there... silently demanding attention.

he'd be specially attracted to your intellect. he'd probably ask you questions about your preferred research topics or engage in discussion with you. like sure he can think you're fine asf, but i think he'd fall for your way of seeing things and your intelligence.

you'd notice he likes you likes you when you see him more disposed to listen and learn from you than to contradict you. he's such a contrarian, sometimes just even assuming the opposite point of view from others for simple amusement, not because he actually believes what he's arguing for. but with you he gets to shut up sometimes lol

random gifts left over your desk without you asking for them. a book you've been meaning to buy but never have the chance to. the flowers you saw the other day and thought were beautiful. a keychain that reminded him of you. anything you casually comment that you'd like to have. it pops up.

and then you pretend you don't know it was him who bought those things for you. you left your desk for a minute to go for a coffee, or to the bathroom, or whatever. that's when he comes in and leaves a cute silver necklace there. it has a little ornament in the shape of the moon, which you've mentioned you adore the sight of. he doesn't really get why you find a generic spatial rock so amusing even though you've explained to him it's about the poetry and the symbolism of it, not only it's function or form in space.

he just ended up accepting that you love the moon and the stars and gave into it, associating you with them. before you come back he leaves. you find the necklace and smirk to yourself. you know it was him who got it for you, of course. the next day, you wear it proudly but don't mention it to him.

in fact, you both don't even talk to one another; the only recognition he gets for his gift is a gentle glance across the room. the silver moon glistens over your chest. you smile. he lowers his glance back to his book, and you don't notice the tiny smirk on his face after that.

of course, this subtle tension builds up over the weeks. i feel like haitham, even though he wouldn't directly make the first move, would get impatient. he'd probably scheme a way for you to end up asking him out. you'd definitely fall for it without knowing it was his plan all along to make you confess first.

another thing is that he doesn't come up with all this by himself. he's got you fooled though because he loves the praise and the light in your face when you realize he's responsible for everything.

but no, he's a liar. he definitely asks kaveh and the boys for advice. actually, all of them come up with very specific ways to win you over. kaveh is a romantic and he's always making sure alhaitham doesn't fuck up lol

“just flowers?” a grimace settles on kaveh's face. “yes” alhaitham says, “isn't that what everyone wants? a bouquet? the classic thing?”

“no” kaveh scoffs. “it's not about the flowers, it's about the intention. anyone can go up to her and give her a bouquet of flowers. also, what's special about a bouquet? the flowers will wither in a week. that can be representative of your relationship. be more original.”

so he brings you a bunch of plants instead that you can hang on your ceiling in your room. it looks quite decorative. now everytime you walk to your room and see the hanging plants, you think of him.

he also sends kaveh to ask you things. like what you're into and what type of person you'd date. and like you know he's asking for him, but you play along.

you even tease them a bit.

“i'm into people who can dance” you confess. “it's just so sexy to see a man who can move. why are you asking though? you're not planning on taking me out, are you?” you rise a brow.

“oh, no, not me” kaveh giggles nervously. later in the day he finds haitham scrolling on his phone at the couch. kaveh takes his phone away, which obviously upsets him, and shuts off his headphones.

he pulls him up, making him stand. that's when haitham notices the music. he gets a little nervous but won't show it. “what are you doing?” he asks defensively.

“teaching you how to move” kaveh replies, and the lesson begins.

❛ while dating ༉‧₊˚

so i feel like after the ordeal that making you his girlfriend was, he'd be the type to grasp onto you and not let you go. not easily, at least.

he's lasting. like if you don't end up marrying this man, at least he's gonna be one of the longest relationships of your life.

no over-the-top displays of affection, though. the subtlety continues. and it secures the duration and firmness of your bond. this man's the type to do rather than say. the way he pampers you is through the little things.

like for example, he keeps perfect track of your cycle. even if you're not regular. he knows when you're ovulating (you get it 😌) and when you're extra sensitive because your periods coming.

“did it come?” he asks casually. you frown, because you've never mentioned it. “yes. just this morning” you guess what he's talking about. “good.” he replies. “how do you know?” you rise a brow. he rests his eyes on you. “two days ago you cried because a bee stung me accidentally and died. you cried because it ‘sacrificed itself for me’. and you buried it. under plants.”

“oh”

“yeah”

of course, he also takes care that you have everything you need, because you can be a little forgetful at times. so you go to the store and while you're wandering the halls in search for candies and chocolate, he grabs a pack of pads and tea and face masks and stuff for you to relax during this time.

ON THE OTHER HAND, he's not the one to easily accept gifts from you. he appreciates them though it's just that he's the type to think of effectiveness and utility when he buys you stuff, while you only buy him things that you find cute or that remind you of him.

like you know you could get him a cute green sweater and he'd be like “i dont need this”, and you'd roll your eyes (he'd wear it nonetheless, because he loves the texture).

so over time you learn to stick to gift him things that have a purpose. books that you know he'd find interesting, perhaps, and that you've read yourself so that you can share something. utensils and tools and stuff that “works”. although you still bring him the occasional trinket or plushie at times.

alhaitham is not a morning person. most often than not you're the one cooking breakfast and cleaning up at early hours. but whenever it happens that he wakes up first and surprises you with breakfast, you appreciate it. he's not the best cook either but he's learned to prepare your favorite dishes perfectly.

i hc you spending time together doing separate tasks or being in silence. he'd be researching, writing, at one side of the room, and you'd be playing videogames or giggling at tiktoks.

“lmao you” you show him a random video, and he glances at it slightly. not a sign of amusement on his face, but you perceive a tiny smirk once you pull back.

also. he helps you with school all the time. you have an essay to deliver in two days and you haven't done a thing? he'll write it for you. *but* this is not free labour. you're gonna have to do something for him as well.

you bargain with him successfully. he writes your essay and you say you'll give him a surprise. the surprise? a candy. he's unimpressed at first, but he shakes his head and smiles and says it's exactly what he was expecting in return.

not really though, you know it. you're just teasing him. it's not like he's some sort of fairy that you can bring candies to and he'll grant your every wish.

i mean he kind of is, but no. so you end up actually paying him back some other way.

and surprise ! your essay gets the best note. alright, it's not like he did all the work. of course, most ideas are yours, he just wrote them eloquently. the teacher praises you. you feel a little bad because you're basically lying but haitham assures you to calm down. he's a scribe nonetheless, and you basically “dictated” the essay to him.

so you have this little thing that you're absolutely in love with life's casualties. whenever you saw a dog passing by you'd scream “dog!” excitedly and sometimes walk up to it and pet it, interrupting haitham mid-sentence (or yourself).

now whenever you're down or distracted at something he's the one to point “dog.” in a lower tone at you. and you rise your glance, see doggy passing by, and you smile, and feel better. “aw, dog” you repeat.

❛ nsfw ༉‧₊˚

he's very touchy, ok? that's his love language. like you're cooking and he casually comes up behind you and grabs your waist, hugs you, and slowly swings you from side to side, very subtle. he lays his chin over your shoulder and watches whatever you've got on the stove.

and then he leaves without saying a word, and you feel the coldness left behind by his absence, making you want him even more.

hes also the type to absentmindedly touch you when you're relaxing. perhaps its even become a form of stimming for him.

you'd have your legs resting on his lap as he reads a passage of his book to you, and you have your eyes close, and he caresses your leg with the other hand.

he's most often than not the one to begin things. he does it that way, making you think you're the one throwing yourself at him, but in fact he's been heating you up in subtle ways the whole day... with little glances and touches and even words.

lmao like this man is conditioning you

like over time you understand the cues and now whenever he does a move like that casually you think to yourself. “oh” and you surprise him later wearing a cute little set of lingerie for him. now who's got the upper hand?

like i feel you've got all of these secret games between you that others don't know about. like this one. who'll give in first? who'll fall first for it? it's so fun.

sometimes you take it as far as making a move in public. you know others don't understand your little cues, it's just between you and him, but you love to see him get a bit shy in front of everyone.

OF COURSE, haitham is a curious type of person. if he's gonna do something, he's gonna do it well. he's not afraid or ashamed of experimenting in the bedroom. so you can come up with all sorts of ideas and he'll probably give them a try.

he's a dom. like any type of dom you want. soft dom, hard dom, whatever. you communicate very openly with him. but it's hard for him to give up control. whenever he accepts to let you dom he's teasing you the whole time.

this man likes being in control ok that's why he's so secretive and stuff. let him be

i feel like he's got a lot of stamina but he gets so sleepy. like im sure he sleeps a lot. just in general not like just after sex.

he can be rough too. and emotional. hes a tongue type of guy. in many ways; he doesn't just love licking, he also loves conversation. praising. degrading. teasing. just words.

he'd be constantly paying attention to your body language to see what you like and dont. he becomes very communicative about this so he's prompting you to speak, approve, and tell him directly if you like something or not.

he loves the sight when you're on top though. just. your body over his. and the way the sweat rolls down your neck into your collarbones. he grasps at your thighs roughly. you feel his fingers burying. and he loves the way you bounce. he won't admit it though, but he does stare in awe when you don't see.

he also won't ask you but he's often hoping you'll give him. like also seeing you on your knees, mouth open, ready for him... he looks forward to it. and you know he loves this part so you don't make it so available to him.

he loves you biting and scratching, but specially biting. he loves the tears rolling down your eyes out of pleasure and the blush on your cheeks.

thrusts are deep and rough. he goes in all the fucking way, deep. he doesn't like doing things mildly anyway. there's also a specific rhythm, but he likes taking unpredictable variation and will sometimes begin thrusting really fast and hard just when you were expecting a slower movement.

he's always ready for aftercare as well. like i just feel like he's a very organized and prepared dude, so he wouldn't do things out of the blue. whenever you start things he's already got everything there for when you finish.

and then you cuddle to sleep and you wake up the next morning... and he's horny again. he's also the type to appreciate some cockwarming after the act.

he's got a high sex drive when it comes to you 😔

oh also i don't feel like you're his first but he's definitely not that experience when you start dating. he learns on the way and through research lol but i don't feel like he's got that high of a body count. NOT LIKE KAVEH AT LEAST.

ta-da~ you've reach the end! if you've come this far thanks for reading <3 reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated ! let me know your thoughts or any other character you want me to write about 🩷🤍

#hv.headcanons #hv.oneshot #alhaitham #hv.smut #hv.haitham #kaveh #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #alhaitham fluff #minors dni

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

quaritch x human!reader thoughts

- maybe while your avatar is being grown, you two have to make the human/blue relationship work

- lots of comparing hand sizes; the tips of his blue tinted fingers surpass your human ones every time, but the satisfied hum you let out whenever you touch hands never disappoints him

- enclosing your digits in each other's fingers too. clasping together, maybe when you're both just sat somewhere, or while you read or work

- i think any kind of size difference is seen more from an experimental point of view for him; he knows that eventually you'll look just like him, and it'll change your dynamic more permanently, so he sees this more as an exploration period

- therefore he loves to rest his huge head in your chest, or yours in his; sat on his lap, legs barely making their way past his waist, he'll nuzzle his face right into you; your arms snaking their way around him to cradle his head

- your hands intertwining softly in the long dark hair, being careful not to handle his cord too roughly

- as much as he likes being held by you, you're also big on looking at him. not checking him out, so much as just taking him in

- looking deep into his bright, shining emerald eyes; turning all the lights off or waiting until it's nighttime to gaze at his light-speckled complexion

- he loves to be seen, especially when it's so intimate and close, in comparison to the more professional militant relationships he needs to maintain in his work life. in spite of being a human, he still feels connected to you, and his heightened na'vi senses only keen to you all the more

- touch, vision, scent, all of them become extra sensitive. suddenly he's walking up behind you, scooping you up and almost encapsulating you in his arms, holding you close to his broad blue chest

- when you sleep, it's a similar situation. maybe he's got you in a fetal position, facing his warm chest and curled up in his arms; your legs always intertwine ofc, maybe his feet softly rub up and down yours, soothing you into a restful sleep

- genuinely, i don't believe he'd try anything sexual until you too are in your blue form, as it almost detracts from the specialness of having such a unique relationship

- that said, if you both get wrapped up in it, some gentle kisses, nuzzling and touching can take place

- overt penetrative sex? unlikely; but some soft, tentative licks and kisses to your open pussy, maybe eventually morphing into sitting on his face while he eats you out? could happen

- as mentioned, his senses are especially keen, so the feeling of your opening clenching around his thick, long blue tongue, or your slight trembling when you get close to orgasm is all the more arousing to him

- he sees you as very fragile in this state, as opposed to him being especially strong, if that makes sense. so he'd never put anything more than his tongue inside you

- softly stroking and rubbing little circles on your clit, labia and entrance would be all he needs to get riled up from you

- but any more and he feels almost like he's taking advantage of your body. i think the theme is that if he's performing a sex act that you can manoeuvre or be the primary beneficiary, he's happy to oblige

- but this only extends to your pre-blue form. after that, something tells me it's a whole other ballpark

feel free to request, as they're open!

#na'vi x reader #na'vi quaritch #na'vi smut #recom quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar recom quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #colonel catboy quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #cuethedisco #cuethediscoandthedrinks

[arachine]

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝

+ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brat tamer! eddie munson x f! reader 

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in which reader finds a pair of cuffs in eddie’s room...

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial (kinda), squirting, sassy reader, loser eddie :0

+ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was a thirst about brat tamer eddie and hopper but i got carried away and focused entirely on eddie LMAO! so, to whoever sent in the thirst, i will be making a hopper version one of these days. but yeah, whore thoughts >.<

+ i feel like with eddie, he’s not as overt in his proclivity for brat taming as opposed to hopper. like hopper jokes around every so often…entertains the idea when you’re being a nuisance…but with eddie? it only comes up when you happen to discover them on accident. 

“Hey,” you call out, your voice carrying over into the room eddie was currently occupying, “what’re these?”

The brunet replies with a brisk ‘what?’ without bringing his attention to your lingering presence in the doorway of the living room, hands too preoccupied with strumming the chords of his beloved guitar.

You stand there watching as he smooths his hands up and down the body of it, like he were running his hands over the pastures and plains of a person and not…an inanimate object. He’d always treated his guitar like it was his pride and joy, because, well—it was. 

At an attempt to draw his attention towards you, you clear your throat. Once, twice, then another. 

“Edddd,” you drawl. It comes out in a lilt, soft and sweet; almost like you were beckoning him, as a gentle mother would call for her baby. However, your persistent advances to get his eyes on you are to no avail. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” eddie strums, “you are absolutely incredible, just amazing.” It’d be nice if those sweet words of affirmation were aimed towards you, but they weren’t. You were competing with an inanimate object, and to be quite frank, the damn thing was beating you by a mile. A tinge of jealously begins to form in the pit of your stomach when he goes from cooing to having a full on conversation. God, he couldn’t be more of a loser.

He’s taken out of his trance upon hearing you clear your throat for the umpteenth time in the last minute.

“Why’d’ya keep doing that?” He finally looks up, but before his eyes can fix on your own, he catches a glimpse of the item in your hand.

How’d she—

“‘Cause you weren’t paying attention to me. Thought I was the love of your life, but I guess this guitar that’s not even sentient’s got me beat.” You follow up with a small chuckle, as if to hide the fact that a teeny, tiny part of you maybe was a little jealous. And yet, despite the smile you feign, and the tone of your voice, Eddie senses a touch of jealousy? Frustration? Maybe even a mixture of both. Partially because you’re so easy to read, and Partially because you unintentionally let a little pout slip through. Cute, he thinks.

“So,” Eddie rises from his seat and saunters over to where you stand, “you were asking me where i got these old things from?” The sound of his boots padding across the floor create an ominous, heavy thud. He walks in a way that’s a little taunting—intimidating, and his smile only grows wider with each step as he encroaches toward your space in the doorway. 

“Yeah,” you reply, “I wanted…I wanted to…” Now he’s fully in your space. The palm of his hand rests flat against the surface above the crest of your head. His boot clad feet are planted firmly in front of yours, and his face (which wears a smirk now), nears closer and closer to your own—so close that the warmth of his breath leaves zephyr-light kisses in it’s wake. 

“You wanted what, baby? Some attention? Is that why you were in there,” his eyes shift to his room, “snooping around? ‘Cause you were jealous?” 

“Why would I be jealous of a guitar?” You query, but he only replies with a hearty laugh.

“‘Cause I was touching her today. Calling her my good girl, my sweet girl—is that what you wanna hear too? That you’re my good girl? My best girl?” Eddie raises a knuckle to the skin of your cheek, watching for any minuscule changes within your expression. 

“Shut up, Munson.” swiftly, Eddie pilfers the cuffs from your hands. Before you can react, the metal item is closed around your wrists, and then a loud ‘click’ resounds through the air. He’d imprisoned you in the very cuffs that you sought an answer for, essentially beating you at your own game. If that’s how he wanted to play it, then so be it. 

“You damned—“ Eddie interjects with a tsk.

“Don’t be mean, (Name),” he places his hand over his heart, feigning faux hurt. “Good girls listen, and right now I need you to be quiet.” 

The boy promptly grabs you by the forearms and pushes you inside of the room. He walks you all the way back until your movements are put to a halt by the presence of his bed. Without saying a word, he pushes you backward with the force of a finger, and waits until your body settles from the impact. 

“What’re you do—“ 

“What’d I say?” You bite your tongue and don’t attempt to hide the sour expression molding on your face. 

Rather quickly, he begins his assault on your clothes, stripping you out of your denim jeans with unbridled urgency. Next to go are your panties, but before he tosses them into the mess of clothes that vacate his floor, he sits down onto the bed, a creak of springs not too far behind. Your eyes are fixed on him and him alone. They scour every inch of his face, they scour his body, and they track every modicum of a movement he makes. 

His hands slide between the crevice of your thighs, and he slowly spreads them apart as if he were handling something so fragile, that it’d break with the blow a breath. Your eyes are still set on his; they repeat back every small glance, and every blink, and they lower at the same time his face levels with your clothed cunt. 

The blood in that courses in your body is scorching, you’re sure of it. Because the room is getting hotter, and you’re feeling dizzy, and now you’re growing a little restless as you anticipate his next move. Still, he’s unmoving. He’s just sitting there, with his eyes trained not on you, but your pussy. 

There’s a wet spot growing darker and darker with each passing second, and it clings to the silhouette of your folds, giving Eddie a generous view of his precious target. Then, without a beat, you feel the plumpness of his lips on your core. He kisses it once, twice, three times before licking a long stripe up the center. The sudden contact makes your back lurch into the air, ushering a faint whimper from your lips. 

“Eddie…” the desperation in your voice is palpable. He knows you’re growing restless, so he indulges you. The brunet pushes the cloth to the side and swipes a finger over your folds. The second he pulls it away, a tether of essence follows suit until it disappears completely. You’re so damn wet, and so damn cute with your knees apart for him like this, that it’s got him rock hard in the confines of his pants. But his intentions were to get you off, so, unfortunately, he’d have to opt for grinding pathetically into the bed. 

Experimentally, he pushes his middle finger in, slides it all the way to the hilt. His eyes briefly scan your face; you’re looking back at him intensely, though, there’s a softness mirroring back at him—as if they were saying: ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘need you’. At least, that’s what he thinks, but his assumptions must be correct because your cunt’s sucking his finger in so tightly, he can barely pull it out. so, he doesn’t. He adds another, and once again, pushes it all the way until each notch of his knuckles disappear inside. 

“God, look at you,” he breathes, “you’re so…” Whatever he says after is lost on you, because now his mouth’s latched onto your clit, and the shock renders your brain completely, and utterly useless. Jello, you feel like jello with the way he’s working his mouth on you. Very briefly, he sits up, causing a frown to form on your face from his absence. His calloused hands smooth up the pastures of your thighs, up until they reach your hips; and once they find the hem of your panties, he hooks two fingers under the fabric, pulling them down the apex of your thighs. 

Now that you’re beneath him, fully exposed with your cunt front and center, he resumes his attacks. If his eagerness wasn’t compelling before, it is now. Because now he’s getting noisy, he’s getting sloppier, and the smacking and spitting, and popping sounds are reverberating off the walls. For a few minutes, this is all you hear, all that fills your head as he works you open with the thickness of his digits. 

Instinctively, your hands move down to grasp his face but the tightness and cold metal against your skin is a stark reminder than you cannot. All you can do, is reach down and grab a tuft of hair from the crown of his head. A frustrated, strangled whimper emits from your throat. eddie blinks up briefly, then laughs against your folds. 

“Awe, poor baby,” he mocks, “do you want these off?” 

You nod your head erratically, sputtering incoherencies as his deft fingers thrust in and out of your wetness. His once agonizingly fast pace starts to slow, then he stifles his ministrations altogether, pulling all three of his long digits out. Eddie rises from laying on his belly and then settles on his knees. he smiles deviously before opening his mouth to speak.

“I’ll take these off on one condition.” You lift your head weakly from his pillow and mutter a ‘what?’ that comes out more exasperated than intended. 

“You have to admit that you’re a brat and you wanted my attention,” the boy says matter-of-factly, sporting a smug grin that you wanted to oh, so badly wipe off. 

“And if i don’t?” You counter, sporting a smug grin of your own—an iota of seriousness laced in your tone. Eddie only climbs up to your body, using the strength of his fists to hover over you. 

“Then you just don’t get to cum.” 

The statement sends waves of intermittent pulses straight to your core. You weren’t sure if it was his tone, or the fact that you could see yourself within the reflection of his obsidian eyes, or even if was because of the fact that you could feel him pressed beneath you, but you listened. 

“I’m a…brat.” It came out so hushed that if it weren’t for your lips moving, he would’ve been convinced you didn’t say anything. 

“What was that?” You sit up and slump against the headboard, the noise of metal clanging against metal being a loud reminder of your unfortunate confinement. 

“I’m a brat,” you say with a little more energy, but still you’re not done. Eddie wants to hear you say it with more conviction. More, more, more. “And…?” 

“And i wanted…I wanted your attention,” you admit, “i wanted you to touch me all day, but you were too busy playing with that thing, and not me.” oh, this is good. This is more than good—more than what he asked for, but nonetheless, it was something. And how could he hear his pretty baby’s admittances and not indulge her?

“Now, was that so hard?” Eddie asks. “I set a condition and you fulfilled it, now you shall reap the benefits.” Even amidst a setting like this, he never fails to say the most ridiculous things. But his words are of no major importance to you. All you want is to kiss him silly, and for his mouth, his fingers—his hands, to be on you.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Munson. Just kiss me.” The handcuffs drop to the bed with a silent thud, and soon as they do, you grab his face into your hands and kiss him. You kiss him silly, urgently. A peck there, a peck there, a peck there…you kiss him until all of the breath in your lungs is knocked out of the both of you. You kiss him until it’s wet, and sloppy, and heated—until your lips swell from the pushing and chasing, until the clashing of teeth and tongue become too much. 

Soon, he pulls away and leaves a slick string a saliva connecting from your lips to his. He grabs you once more by the forearms and brings you to sit up, stripping you of the black sabbath tee he’d given to you months prior. It was more yours than his now, and it suited you better than it ever did him. The sight of your bare chest sends the blood rushing straight back down to his cock, he wants to fuck you so, so, so very badly. 

For a final time, his lips find yours, and then they pull away, and wander down, down, down. They hover over the base of your neck, your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts (before making a pit stop to gently kiss your pebbled nipples), down the plains of your abdomen, and then stop at the top of your mound. This is when he looks up at you. this is when he says ‘i love you’ without even uttering a word. 

His eyes depart from your face and close shut when he places the final kiss on your mound. It’s a little longer than the rest, like he’s been waiting to get here, to worship this place, and this place alone. As soon as his lips leave your skin, they’re on your cunt in an instant. He spares you not a second to prepare; he’s focused, unfettered, and machiavellian in his process, incredibly so.

“Tastes so good,” are the words that you manage to hear. You know he’s speaking to himself and not really to you, because every so often, he mutters something else under his breath. 

“More,” you plea, pushing his head deeper until the tip of his nose brushes the opening of your slit. You can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, but you have idea what he’s saying. All you know is that he complies and gives you exactly what you want. As you stare up at the ceiling, chest heaving and falling uncontrollably, you feel the firsts of his fingers to enter you. It’s tantalizingly slow, disappears and exits in a steady rhythm. with his free hand, he clasps it under and over your thigh to keep you from fidgeting. The free palm finds solace on the bone of your hip before he squeezes it once, and then uses it to draw deliberate circles on the engorged bud. 

“E-Eddie, you feel—fuck—so good,” your voice trembles in pleasure. Wisps of his hair fall over his face, and you grab what you can to form a makeshift ponytail so that he can see. 

The last digit enters your cunt, and the delicious stretch that you were anticipating since his absence was finally restored. You’re sure you could cum just from this alone, from the mere pace his fingers set, from the places they reach, and the burn that resides when he pushes them all to the hilt. The air is getting thinner, and your moans are getting louder…there’s no way in hell you weren’t starting to get close. The final push is when he replaces his hand on your clit for his tongue.

It works in tandem with the thrusting of his fingers, and it laps at you angrily, like he were a man dying of thirst in the desert and you were the first droplets of rain: a miracle. The pink muscle dances and flicks with calculated precision. From your perspective, his movements don’t seem to have any real significance, but Eddie knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing—which is writing the entirety of his name on the expanse of your pussy. 

E-d-d-i-e. pause. then, finishes with M-u-n-s-o-n. Maybe he’s crazy, but the second he finishes spelling out his name, your cunt starts to clench him harder and your thighs start to tense around his head. If you came because your body somehow knew he was spelling his name, he’d never let you hear the end of it; because in his head, in his mind, that meant that it recognized him as yours, and vice versa. 

“‘M gonna…think ‘m gonna cum!” 

Faster than he could blink, you’d come undone right on his fingers—his face. Your back arched into the air, forming a pretty crescent shape before falling limp into the plush of his sheets. He’d lifted himself from his stomach and sat beside your shaking frame, pulling you up along with him. One of his hands pulled your head to lay against his chest, while the other opted to rub comforting motions on the side of your arm. He watched intently as your heaving chest started to settle down, your prior ragged breaths now much more even. 

You were so cute like this, all fucked out, barely able to open your eyes. The two of you stay like this for some time, basking in the tranquility of post-sex. Once you open your eyes, he immediately greets you with a snarky comment. 

“Well, hello there, sweetheart. Almost thought you were a goner,” Eddie exaggerates, sticking out his tongue and closing his eyes as if he were a corpse. You sit up from his chest and turn to him, pinching his sides.

“Ow,” he soothes his side, “but on a more serious note, you will be washing these sheets,” he points down. You take a look at the sheets, and he’s right. Your essence stands out starkly against the color of his sheets, you’ve made a complete mess of them. Smiling, you offer a shy ‘sorry’ and then hide your face in the barrow of his neck. You can feel his hot gaze on you from this position. 

“Guess i did tame you after all,” he gasps, “where’s the sass? You’re all smiles and cheeks now.” You lift your head from his neck and give him an indignant look. 

“What? I didn’t say anything wrong!” You squeeze your eyes into slits. “The guitar wouldn’t be looking at me like this right now if I used my tongue on her…” He shoots in playful banter. 

“Shut up, Munson.” God, he couldn’t be more of a loser. 

© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x you smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x y/n smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut

[kazenomegaminowanpisu]

Just stumbled across your blog and I love it! Your writing is amazing - I love how you capture the character of all the OP characters! If your doing requests right now, I’d love to see how you think Ace, Marco, and Robin would express jealousy. (Like if someone they liked was being flirted with or something) Hope you had a lovely weekend!

Op Characters When their s/o got flirted by someone

Warning:SFW, Fluff, Jealousy

Feat:Ace, Marco, Robin

Thank you so much for your kind words✨! I'm glad you enjoy my writing😭✨. Here's a fluffy response on how Ace, Marco, and Robin.

Ace

— Whenever Ace sees someone flirting with the person he likes, his fiery personality can't help but ignite a little spark of jealousy.

—He might exhibit his jealousy in an overt and passionate way, unable to contain his emotions. His face might flush slightly, and a glint of frustration can be seen in his eyes.

—Ace might try to steal the spotlight by cracking jokes or performing daring stunts, hoping to capture the attention of his love interest.

—He might also try to engage in friendly competition with the person flirting, displaying his talents and abilities to prove himself as a worthy contender.

Marco

—Marco's composed and gentle nature might make his expression of jealousy more subtle and endearing.

—He would likely maintain his friendly demeanor, though a discerning eye would notice a fleeting flicker of sadness in his eyes upon witnessing someone else pursuing his love interest.

—Rather than confrontational gestures, Marco might opt for small gestures of affection to remind his special someone of his presence and care. He might leave small thoughtful gifts or offer a helping hand when they least expect it.

—Being a strong and protective individual, Marco may quietly offer his support and guidance to the person attracting his love interest, subtly showcasing his qualities that might make him the better choice.

Robin

—Robin's intelligent and reserved nature would shape her expression of jealousy in a sophisticated and understated manner.

—She would observe the situation closely, analyzing the interactions between the person she likes and the one flirting with them with her keen intellect.

—Instead of direct confrontations, Robin might choose a diplomatic approach. She would calmly and intellectually engage in conversations, showcasing her vast knowledge and stimulating the person's intellectual curiosity.

—Robin's jealousy might manifest through a slightly more distant behavior, as she subtly keeps her distance to see how the situation unfolds. However, her genuine smile never fades as she patiently bides her time, waiting for the right moment to express her true feelings.

#one piece #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #Ace x reader #Marco The Phoenix x reader #Robin x reader #kazenomegaminowanpisu #hannaemeraldwhitedragon #one piece canons #writing #anime #one piece x reader #one piece x s/o

[inchidentally]

I'm literally looking at myself like you dumb bitch it’s a gd lego animation why are you writing this

but like The Inherent Gentleness of Landoscar

the gentle little voices they use in so many of their challenges compared to the Big Loud Fun Times With Loving Alphas that Lando's challenges with Carlos and Daniel had and with Oscar and the Prema boys !

the fact that Oscar never even properly raises his voice at all around Lando like he would with previous teammates and some of the Alpine videos. even when they're playing a big fun loud game of cricket outside and it merits shouting and yelling, Oscar never raises his voice at Lando. Lando is an absolute tiny terror, bellowing and shouting and whining at Oscar - and Oscar just giggles and ribs him gently in return. 

like, Oscar would fully allow himself to yell and get exasperated (jokingly) and make fun of all the other guys in his life - he’s Australian, it’s what he does! It would be weird if he didn’t!

but in the same way that even non fandom F1 fans picked up on Oscar’s accent softening and sounding more similar to Lando’s when they’re in videos together, Oscar massively softened the genetically and culturally coded sarcasm and ribbing when he noticed it didn’t always land the right way with Lando. and how even tho they have a perfectly healthy natural sense of competition between each other, Oscar never used to be at all shy about being competitive and a little cocky… until Lando, where Oscar now ducks his head and turns pink with embarrassment over the Sprint win being brought up and how Lando was always the one to bring it up and never Oscar. and it even turned into that gentle repetition of Lando’s expressions thing which he even does in a silly Lego video “team work makes the dream work” ??

and the thing is the more Oscar has specifically wanted to accommodate Lando’s preferences and quirks and habits, the gentler and quieter he’s become with him - which goes against every aspect of bromance logic that we as fans love so much ?? normally the best thing about Lando’s quirks and habits and contrariness is when his friends roast him about them or use them strategically to whip him up into hysterical giggles or screeching and possibly nearly break something or hurt himself in unserious ways.

but then there’s the fact that Lando is also a naturally shy person and he has as many quiet moods as he has hyperactive or excitable ones. and while he can have the more excitable ones with all of his friends and we get such great media content from them, it’s really only guys like Oscar and Max F who can also bring out his quieter and gentler moods on camera. 

and it’s literally fascinating to me that as a result that’s actually become more the default when Lando and Oscar are together - even down to never broadcasting when they spend time together outside of F1 commitments apart from mentioning it in passing. their time together is A Gentle Vibe and would feel weird to document bc it's at once so warm and friendly but also not A Big Deal!

and idk the fact that Oscar also doesn’t show overt bromance gestures of affection to Lando on camera or when specifically prompted by the media - but then he shows a consideration and attention to Lando that not even joking we only rly notice him do when it comes to Lily. and that most of Lando's other friends don't tend to show him apart from Max. and Oscar’s even like that w Lily where he doesn’t do the typical PDA or getting overly sentimental about her but he mentions her all the time to show how much a part of his life she is and isn't that more significant !! they’re his go-to for any question about himself that isn’t about racing - what Lando and Lily like and don’t like, how they tease him or give him a hard time, what he finds exasperating in a fond way about them. something about Oscar not rly caring if he’s a dynamic or at all fan popular person outside of racing and then being a mirror to reflect the much more interesting qualities of these two unique people who are in his life more than anyone else something something !!

but mainly it’s how the youngest and most closely competitive pairing on the grid are also the least overtly Manly Aggressive Men and don’t honestly seem at all concerned with trying to be so ! even the way they treated the usual mind games/fighting talk thing by just finding the whole concept amusing !! same with team orders where they just say ‘oh it was fair!’ and they’re both just so effortlessly What Is Gender that it rly is like they are watching The Men* from a distance most of the time and peacefully sharing silent communication with each other and speaking in voices so soft that The Men cannot even hear and like they just exist in this aura that makes us think they’re twins when actually their looks and their personalities aren’t twinning it’s just that they inhabit this wavelength exclusive to themselves and they do frighteningly well at pictionary and they coo these little thoughts at each other and it’s sometimes creepy but endlessly intriguing !!!

and how as fans there’s never any Top/Bottom Dominant/Submissive laws or even popular tendencies we literally all enjoy writing and thinking of them in fanon in every possible way and it always fits !!

just cool to me !

*with special exceptions at times for Lewis and Charles here - sometimes

#landoscar #inchidentallyanessay #inch gets weird #landoscar meta #as a What Is Gender myself they just are so dear to me #vestal virgins au

[mana-jjk]

more first-year inuokko because this is my house and if i want to think about these fumbling losers i will !!

yuuta always pausing by the window looking out at the gardens when he sees toge. he’s never overt about it, never tries to draw his attention, or make him even aware that he’s watching.

but he can never seem to draw his eyes away, but when the shorter boy just seems to come alive among the flowers.

through the glass, it’s the closest he ever comes to hearing his voice. toge hums to the flowers, the happiness is infectious and fills their petals with new life. yet he never even allows the whisper of a laugh around his friends, too afraid of the possibility.

his eyes glow like wisteria, his hair the same shade as the lily of the valley. the small curve of a smile so faintly visible behind his scarf like the rising sun.

toge notices him before long, he always does. he blinks at yuuta, long lashes and kind violet eyes that never seem to darken. he makes a movement, something yuuta cannot identify, he’s still isn’t very knowledgeable in sign.

so, like a coward, he always bows in flustered apology and runs away.

toge never chases after him, never texts him what he said, never moves from his place in the garden. in a way, he’s a coward too.

one year later, toge is still in the garden. traumatized, lost, and with an empty sleeve.

gardening is hard with only one hand, his fingers tremble in frustration and eventually can’t even hold the watering can.

he feels a familiar gaze and looks up, yuuta stands behind the window, so different and yet entirely the same.

when their eyes meet, yuuta does not bow in apology, but he does run out of sight. not that it matters, the sign he always used was a two-handed one. still, the familiar disappointment is heavier than usual.

footsteps sound behind him, he turns in bewilderment for the first time to see yuuta in front of him.

with shaky hands, yuuta mimicked the sign toge always made to him from the garden, ‘join me?’ he scratches his head with an embarrassed smile and apologizes for the delay.

yuuta lets himself be ordered around, an eager pair of extra arms that obey the other’s beck and call.

someday they’ll have their own little garden, tucked in the backyard of a home they can call their own. but for now, yuuta hauls around soil bags and tries not to trip every time he hears the gentle hum of toge’s voice.

i am actually insane and i need everyone to know it

#inumaki toge #yuuta okkotsu #inuokko #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ottoge

[witchthewriter]

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 '𝐆𝐚𝐳' 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

ISFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Gemini Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising

The fact that Kyle Garrick doesn't have as much popularity as some of the other characters in the Call of Duty world. is sinful. It's blasphemy.

Look, at first I was one of those people who didn't like Gaz as much as the rest of the Task Force, but now, NOW, I see him as such a valuable member. This is my formal apology to thy beautiful god of a man, Gaz.

And also a post so those that say, 'they don't know anything about Gaz so they cannot include him' - well here's your info babes!

"𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉?" — 𝖪𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄

Alias(es)

Sabre 2-6

Bravo 0-5

Bravo 2-6

Bravo 6-2

Bravo 6-1

Gaz

Nationality: British

Rank: Sergeant Sergeant is a senior role of responsibility, promotion to which typically takes place after 12 years of service, depending on ability. Sergeants typically are second in command of a troop or platoon of up to 35 soldiers, with the important responsibility for advising and assisting junior officers.

Birth: 1993 However, he is older than Soap.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Kyle Garrick enlisted in the British Army in 2008, serving in the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, spending four years participating in test flights, jump competition and marksmanship before passing selection for Her Majesty's elite Special Air Service (SAS), where he is currently serving as a Sergeant for his sixth year.

Tasked to Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Turkey, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. Garrick has spent the better part of his career hunting terrorist fighters.

Kyle earned the U.S. Marine Corps Gold Parachute Wings at Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in North Carolina whilst on an exchange attachment and routinely cross-loads on operations with the SAS' American counterparts, the Navy SEALs.

Required to undergo resistance to interrogation (RTI) testing, Kyle was the only candidate in his class to escape the facility and evade capture.

Routinely subjected to physically and mentally uncomfortable scenarios, Kyle prides himself on high tolerance and tactical awareness.

Sergeant Garrick was awarded the Queen's Gallantry Medal and the General Service Medal for both covert and overt counter-terrorism operations in the Middle East, disrupting opium supply lines and poppy production, a major source of terrorist financing.

With expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance and VIP protection, Kyle currently serves on the SAS domestic counter-terror program, executing homefield missions with metropolitan police forces on European soil.

Challenging duty, due to civilian and collateral damage issues, Kyle seeks the opportunity to serve abroad again, and make a real difference combating the threat of terror.

Quotes

" Fuck off, shit pouch."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place sir."

"They sent us in half assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we're not at war."

"I'm not dead, Nik. I'm hanging from a bloody rope!"

Personality

Very rarely does Kyle demand attention. He's observant problem-solving and bases his decisions on his instincts and values, and focuses on enjoying the present.

However, with the line of work he's in. Kyle has had to change the way he reacts to things. One really obvious scene between him and Cpt Price shows how this job is changing Kyle e.g,. Price’s quote about bloodying your hands after taking the gloves off.

Even so, I do think he's the most gentle of the four men, the kindest - almost like he's clung to his humanity with everything he's got.

sources: @mockerycrow. callofdutyfandom.com.

#kyle garrick #kyle garrick moodboard #gaz garrick moodboard #moodboard #aesthetic #witch the writer's moodboards #witchthewriter #cod moodboard #cod aesthetic #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x you #gaz garrick #gaz cod #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #kyle garrick character profile #kyle garrick profile

[sxeraphfic]

what are your nsfw hcs for donnie? 🤭

TW/NSFW - DONNIE DARKO HCS

Thank you for the ask dear! 

And anyone else who's reading this, if you happen to take a liking to one of my hcs and want me to write a fic/drabble on it just send it in the ask box <3 

A/N: these hcs are general nsfw hcs.. If anyone's interested in cough dead dove and darker nsfw hcs.. My asks are ready for that question :9

Donnie is a socially awkward young man who attempts to hide it through sarcasm and long intellectual rants, the truth is he's never been exactly.. Popular in either the friends or relationship department. That being said, his fantasies usually involve intimacy. In other words, he's totally a horny guy and def has frequent dirty thoughts. And anyone who's watched the deleted scene between him and his therapist would see that.  

What are my personal hc’s for him?  

I think donnie is most likely into some more obscure and weird kinks/interests while simultaneously being kind of vanilla. 

He’d be happy to try anything out really as long as it isn't causing you overt harm that's long lasting.  

He’s probably gentle and shy about sex at first with you, but as time goes on he’ll get more and more into rougher sex   

he enjoys cumming on your face, stomach, thighs and inside you, obviously.

Rough sex with him wouldn't be super crazy bondage or anything but he's definitely into slight smacking/spanking and manhandling. If you're shorter than him it's probably a guarantee he secretly gets off on it or even occasionally admits it to you during it.  

He’s probably read a lot of playboy-esque magazines and has seen images involving tied/cuffed hands, if he's feeling brave he'd be happy to go either way with doing it. 

I can imagine him being into nipple/breast play as well, tbh whether you have a flat chest or A cups or DD cups he's gonna feel them up. He enjoys biting, licking and sucking them too.   

tummy kisses

def loves to give hickies/love bites aswell, specifically on your neck and thighs. He likes if you give them too.

Donnie’s favourite body parts would include; stomach, thighs, neck and chest.   

Donnie's favourite positions may include; doggy style, spooning, missionary, breeding/flatiron and standing.  

I think he would enjoy grinding and dry humping ALOT, he's a bit of a freak and enjoys the forced lack of stimulation from it if he's grinding or dry humping against you. Seeing you use him for pleasure through grinding drives him absolutely crazy, I think it's one of the few examples where a little bit of a soft dom side of him comes out. especially if you're needy during it.    

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Your thighs are not safe.    

Finger sucking as well, both ways.

He's def at least a teeny bit into mommy dom stuff lets be real. Call him a good boy, edge him and control what he's allowed to do, he likes it.  

Def a head giver, sure he likes to receive. But the thought of getting in between your thighs and feeling them crush his face or feeling you push him away makes his cheeks flush and his pants tighten.  

Normal donnie? Cat boy. During sex donnie? A total puppy boy.

That being said Donnie is kind of a sexual chameleon, he can go from soft dom behaviour to being honestly kind of subby in seconds.  

He has a slight humiliation kink, which ties into his more subby side. If you make fun of him or tease him during sex it'll just make his dick 100x more hard.  

Don't forget to praise him though, the poor thing has hardly been complimented or praised throughout his life so he’ll appreciate it and fantasise about you doing it.

Donnie likes it if you act desperate or needy, or if you plead for him.

He's definitely going to ramp up the teasing aswell during it, he likes to humiliate you just as much as you do to him.

Donnie enjoys casual clothing during sex if that makes sense, don't get him wrong he finds lingerie beautiful. But something about seeing his partner in nothing but a t-shirt and panties or topless with just pyjama pants on gets him reeeeal hot.  

Donnie may partake in “risky” sex, he gets a high off of doing inappropriate things semi-publically and enjoys the idea of almost getting caught. Eg; in changerooms, bathrooms, cinemas etc.   

Donnie is vocal during sex, he grunts and huffs and mumbles from how good it feels.

Donnie is not a dirty talker, and he doesn't use pet names super often either. But he might let a tiny bit of dirty talk slip out if he's getting really into it.   

Remember at the start when I said he could be into some “more obscure stuff” ? well here's a FEW possibilities, stockings, choking (towards him), dacryphilia (tears), edging, lowkey feet too i'm sorry guys. There's some more stuff but that might have to be for a dead dove hc list LOL.

That's it for now! Maybe ill do a part two for general nsfw hcs for him one day but i've run out of ideas. I hope you all enjoyed <3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

#donnie darko x reader #smut #jake gyllenhaal #donnie darko #fanfic #fanfiction #writer #drabble #hc #hcs #blurb #imagines #valenfics

[bestworstcase]

do you have any thoughts on The Hunter’s Children? when i read it my immediate reaction was “this has to mean strq reunion” (and i have been banging that drum for years now) but i’m curious what you think about it

in general i read fairytales of remnant as an ozpin character study so i tend not to have STRQ at the forefront of my mind (see also: ‘the warrior in the woods’ was not originally about a silver-eyed warrior), and my immediate reaction to the hunter’s children was to look at this:

“No,” said the younger sister. “We need to study the Grimm, so we can figure out better ways to protect against them.” […] The younger sister ventured into the woods near her village and built a structure high on a tree branch from which she could observe Grimm safely. Whenever one came near, she calmed herself enough to avoid its attention while she made careful notes and sketches. But studying the Grimm in this passive state did not provide useful information about their strength and abilities in combat. […] “I was wrong. The best way to learn about the Grimm is by fighting them,” said the younger sister.

and then this:

This is one of my favorite fairy tales, and I include it here not only because its messages still resonate today—perhaps more than ever—but also because the hunter’s four children bear a striking resemblance to the four-student teams at each of our Huntsmen academies. One wonders if the king of Vale had this story in mind when he established them after the Great War.

and then exchange a meaningful glance with the corner of my brain where i just replay WOR: grimm on a continual loop and crack the fuck up. ozma modeled the curriculum of his academies on a story whose overt moral includes "scientific study of the grimm is a waste of time and useless, the right way to learn about them is killing them." and in the end killing is all that matters………

OUR marvelous capacity to learn from the experience of fighting grimm; THEIR perverse form of self-preservation making them more effective killers. salem is the funniest fucking person alive

also considering ozpin says it’s his "favorite fairytale" (and thus probably one he either made up in the first place or has retold often enough to have shaped the traditional narrative) and his CONSTANT PROJECTION,

“Because I hate the Grimm for killing your mother,” the hunter might answer. “And I hate myself for not being there when she died.” Dinner conversation was silent on those nights until one child would ask softly, “Tell us about Mother again.” And soon they would be sharing their favorite memories of her, such as her sharp sense of humor, her beautiful singing voice, and her gentle but firm hand in guiding their combat training.

<- this is about salem. or more specifically, it’s ozma’s grief and remembrance of salem refracted through an allegorical story about a man who couldn’t save his beloved wife from the grimm. (which. lmao.) and well. the lost fable begins with salem humming, and her way of teaching and training cinder is not far off from a twisted "gentle but firm" approach. that’s 2 of 3, and 3 of 3 taking into account her occasional moments of WITHERING DEADPAN SARCASM esp in narration and the "your mother said those words to me"/"hm! her again? :)" attitude she has adopted about these girls’ mother being her general and the "hm! you certainly do enjoy collecting assets!" gently ribbing cinder and the nasty "she thinks… she wants…" bit when she uses her sarcasm for evil. and "perhaps you and i can have a better working relationship :)" LISTEN TO ME. SALEM IS FUNNY. HUMOR IS HOW SHE COPES. OZMA MISSES HER JOKES…

ahem.

that said, rereading the story again i do see where you’re getting the STRQ parallels / reunion foreshadowing because yeah it’s.

younger sister: her semblance suppresses or banishes emotion with waves of "overwhelming calm," she uses it to go… live among the grimm…

younger brother: his semblance lets him hide in plain sight by closing his eyes, but grimm can still sense his presence; he stumbles around "safe" but blind until the younger sister rescues him.

older sister: her semblance leads her toward whatever she needs most, which in the story this turns out to be her younger siblings. she pledges her service to protect the village, but the grimm are so numerous and the villagers so upset that they’re forced to adopt a nomadic lifestyle to stay safe.

older brother: his semblance allows him to create a shared pool of aura between large groups of people connected by a rope; he travels around until he finds a surviving village and becomes their champion until they, too, are overwhelmed and forced to flee.

if summer willingly joined salem, then… yeah all four of these characters map very neatly onto team STRQ.

summer joined salem and learned from her how to tame / command / ally with / otherwise live safely among grimm; she’s the younger sister.

"bravado" is a description that suits tai’s character quite well, and when he’s "alone in the forest"—left by raven and summer and qrow—he winds up lost and blind, depressed, and he’s (emotionally) trapped there still, surrounded by grimm that have overrun vale and patch.

raven’s semblance links her to her family so she can always get to them; there’s some resonance too between the older sister’s leadership of the village and the branwen tribe in that the branwens need to stay on the move because, as bandits, they’re walking grimm bait. and the older sister is left behind, which is… pretty clearly how raven feels toward the rest of her team.

qrow as the older brother on the surface seems like he’s the odd one out but…considered metaphorically, the older brother’s semblance makes him weak when he is alone and strong with the support of a community, which is qrow’s emotional arc exactly; and the older brother also travels the world and (literally) binds people together, which, gestures at qrow telling yang where to find raven and bringing RNJR into the loop and so forth. also the clover pin semblance key change in v8.

…gonna put this one down as another tally in the "tai’s 'assignment' keeping him away from vacuo is summer" column.

[kookie-doughs]

Evermore

Dracule Mihawk X Reader

-Your evermore with Mihawk is a story to be told

Chapter 2: I Never Needed Anybody In My Life, I Learned The Truth Too Late

Time flowed like a gentle stream within the walls of Mihawk's grand castle, carrying with it a sense of familiarity and routine. The initial weeks of your stay had seen you seamlessly settling into the rhythm of life there, each day bringing a new layer of understanding between you and the enigmatic swordsman.

In the expansive library, you sat on the polished marble floor, nestled between Mihawk's legs. The soft rustling of pages turning mingled with the occasional sound of your voice as you shared snippets of your reading with him. His presence was a constant, a comforting backdrop to the world of words and stories that enveloped you both.

"Did you know," you began, your voice breaking the silence like a delicate melody, "that in the ancient tales of the North Blue, there's a legend of a sword said to be imbued with the power of the winter winds?"

Mihawk's eyes remained fixed on the pages before him, his tone nonchalant. "Indeed, legends often take root in the echoes of truth."

Your lips curled into a playful smile as you continued, undeterred by his lack of overt engagement. "They say that the sword's blade is said to shimmer like ice in the moonlight, and its strike can freeze even the mightiest of flames."

Mihawk's lips curved ever so slightly. "An intriguing concept, if one considers the intricate craftsmanship that could give rise to such a blade."

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the library's arched windows, you found yourself entranced by the book further, your conversations serving as a bridge between two souls who communicated as much through silence as they did through speech.

Eventually, the passage of time prompted a change in rhythm. Mihawk closed his book, his gaze meeting yours with a knowing glint. "It seems hunger has taken its toll. Shall we prepare lunch?"

Your eyes lit up, and you rose to your feet with an eager nod. "Yes! Yes! I'll help."

The journey to the kitchen was a delightful interlude, your steps echoing through the castle's corridors. Mihawk's imposing figure moved with an effortless grace, his strides long and purposeful. And yet, you couldn't help but notice the subtle smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, you moved with practiced ease, gathering utensils and ingredients. Mihawk's attempts to send you back to your previous activities were met with playful defiance, your determination unwavering. "No way. I'm here to help, and that's final."

With a bemused sigh, Mihawk conceded, and together, you embarked on the task of preparing lunch. The kitchen buzzed with activity as you chatted animatedly, your words flowing like a lively river.

"Pasta, again?" Mihawk remarked, his voice tinged with mock exasperation.

You giggled, unfazed by his tone. "Of course! You can't expect me to go a day without my favorite dish, can you? You have to make sure you keep them in stock!"

As the pasta boiled and the aroma of the sauce filled the air, you went on a gleeful tangent about the different types of pasta, the history of Italian cuisine, and the importance of always having pasta in stock.

Mihawk's gaze softened as he observed your enthusiasm, a faint smile gracing his features. "Very well, I shall endeavor to keep an ample supply of pasta on hand."

Your grin widened. "You better!"

As the final touches were added to the meal, Mihawk glanced at you with a mixture of amusement and fondness. "You truly have an uncanny ability to make even the simplest things fascinating."

You beamed at him, your heart swelling with a sense of pride. "That's the magic of pasta, Mihawk."

As the meal was savored in the castle's elegant dining hall, the unspoken bond between you and Mihawk seemed to envelop the space, transcending words and actions. Amidst the shared laughter and the clinking of utensils, a connection had blossomed—one that defied expectations and brought together two souls who had once been strangers.

And as the meal drew to a close, Mihawk's gaze met yours, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "In a few days, we shall venture beyond the castle."

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. "Oh? Where are we going?"

Mihawk's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I have yet to figure that out but, were going out to acquire not just pasta but also clothes and other essentials."

Your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and excitement. The prospect of leaving the castle, of venturing into the outside alongside Mihawk, sent a thrill through your veins.

~

The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the tapestries that adorned the walls. The aroma of a sumptuous feast wafted through the air. Mihawk calls for his guest to join dinner

As the duo settled into their seats, Mihawk's gaze flickered between the two. "I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to share a meal together."

Perona, who had materialized at the doorway with her characteristic flair, let out an audible groan. "Ugh, not pasta again!"

Mihawk shuts her complain, "Consider it a delicacy, Perona."

She pouted, her incorporeal form floating toward the table. "You always say that, but I'm pretty sure I've had enough pasta to last me a lifetime."

Zoro, his usual stoic expression in place, took his seat and shot a wry glance in Perona's direction. "Just eat it, Perona. It's not gonna kill you."

Perona scowled at him, her annoyance palpable. "And you! You're the last person I want to hear from."

Mihawk's gaze shifted between the two of them. "Let us try to have a peaceful meal."

As the plates were served, the trio began to partake in the feast that had been laid before them. The clinking of cutlery against plates was accompanied by the soft murmur of conversation—a harmony of voices that resonated through the hall.

Perona's displeasure with the pasta seemed to be outweighed only by her distaste for Zoro's presence. "You know," she began, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "I've been stuck with marimo over here for a while now, and let me tell you, it's been a real treat."

Zoro rolled his eyes, unfazed by her remarks. "Yeah, yeah, I know you can't stand me. You don't have to keep reminding me."

Perona made a face of exaggerated disgust as she toyed with her pasta. "And I can't believe you're actually eating that. You'd probably eat anything."

Zoro's response was nonchalant. "It's food. What's the big deal?"

Amidst Perona's grumbling and Zoro's retorts, the meal continued. Finally, as the last bite was taken and the meal drew to a close, Zoro pushed his plate aside and offered a genuine smile. "Thanks for the food."

Perona's annoyance seemed to waver for a moment, replaced by a begrudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, I guess it wasn't as terrible."

Mihawk inclined his head. "Perhaps, Perona, you'll find that new experiences can sometimes lead to pleasant surprises."

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