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#this took me forever to write
nervousgardenerkid · 2 years
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highschool au steve (who’s friends with the party because fuck the king steve era he deserves good friends <3) where you’re his reluctant tutor and he’s convinced this is the start of a romcom where you two eventually fall in love but you’re just trying to tutor your cute annoying classmate because you need an excuse to get out of being dragged into joining a club and/or sport by your friends and tutoring can’t possibly be super hard right?
but eventually steve’s flirting gets to you and when he comes to your next tutoring session with an A on his latest paper you think he doesn’t need a tutor and are sad obviously happy to see he doesn’t need to be tutored anymore. cue steve being an in love idiot and purposefully flunking his next assignment so you can keep being his tutor. robin, who’s tired of his shit, tells you why his grades keep drastically fluctuating (because he wants to keep being tutored but also doesn’t want you to think you’re a bad tutor) which leads to (after some convincing from his children friends) you telling him if he gets an A on the next assignment you’ll go on a date with him <3
can u tell i got carried away again LMAO credit to whoever made the gif! i hope u like it hehe <3
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Steve let out a sigh of defeat as he stared at the bright red F on his paper. He swears he did so well this time! Guess studying with Dustin didn't pay off. He felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Robin whispered. “What did you get?”
Steve rolled his eyes showing her the paper.
“Dustin is a shitty tutor.”
“Did you guys even study?”
Steve looked back at the other day and let out a soft “huh,” once he realized he simply walked into the library to grab Dustin. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, we didn't even study.”
Robin rolled her eyes.
“How am I a junior who got accidentally put in calculus and doing better than you?”
Steve opened his mouth to come back with a snarky remark but was saved by the bell.
“Whatever, I'll talk to Ms. Rodriguez after class. I'm sure she'll find me a tutor.”
-
“Y/n, cmon please!” Chrissy begged while holding your hand. You chuckled, shaking your head as you grabbed your calculus book, shutting your locker once you had it.
“Chrissy I'm flattered, really, but there's no way I'm joining the cheer squad.”
Chrissy followed you as you made your way toward your next class.
“But the uniforms are so cute!”
“To each their own!”
You understand what she was trying to do for you. You never really joined any clubs at school, not for any particular reason. You just didn't want to. I mean, who wants to stay after school and practice instead of going home and relaxing?
“Okay, what about the newsletter?” she asked with a big smile.
You shook your head violently. “I love Nancy to death, but she takes that way too seriously.”
“Cause she's passionate about it! Do you have anything you're passionate about?”
You leaned against the wall by your classroom thinking about it. Surely there was something.
“Y/n!” you heard a voice shout.
Your head shot up in the direction your name was called, a smile craving your face as you saw the familiar mop of semi-curls.
“Hey, Eddie!”
Eddie laughed and picked you up while spinning you around.
He placed you down and brought you in for a tight hug.
“Not that I don't appreciate the love, but what's going on?”
“I finally got an A on Mr. David’s paper and it's all thanks to you!”
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at the small praise from the boy in front of you. You waved your hand around as you looked down at your feet.
“No, it wasn't me Eddie, I just showed you how to study in your own way! Sometimes sitting in front of books and reading isn't for everyone,” you said with a smile.
“Yeah, well because of you I’ll be able to finally get the hell out of here! Seriously y/n you're a genius!” he shouted at you while pointing and walking in the opposite direction.
Chrissy giggled. “He's such a weird kid. Not a bad weird though.”
You nodded your head. “He's a sweetheart though, I'll see you after tryouts?” you asked her, finally beginning to walk into class.
She nodded her head with a bright smile on her face. “See you after tryouts!”
You smiled and took your usual seat at your desk, you glanced at the board and opened your textbook to the page that was on the board getting ready to read about today’s lesson.
“Y/n, could you come up here, please?” you heard Ms. Rodriguez call. You make your way over to her desk with confusion on your face.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course sweetheart! How would you feel about some extra credit?”
You perked up at the mention of it causing Ms. Rodriguez to laugh.
“I have a student who needs tutoring and I figured why not send in my best student.”
“Ms. Rodriguez I just passed your last test, if I'm your best student that's a little sad.”
“You helped Munson get a B on his quiz.”
Your eyes went wide and you smiled. “Did I really?”
She nodded her head and smiled at you. “I don't mean to be rude but you brought him from a D to a B, it's progress.”
You stood there and thought about it. The teachers underestimated Eddie. He was smart, he just didn't have the proper tools to kick-start his mind. What if this kid isn't smart? What if you can never teach then they fail? That means that you've failed.
“Look, you don't have to say yes,” Ms. Rodriguez started. “But if you decide to go he said he'd meet you in the library after school…assuming he knows where that is.”
You nodded your head. “I'll tutor him, I'm sure it won't be that hard.”
-
It's been an hour. An hour of you sitting in the school library when you could be at home taking a nap. Chrissy stopped by earlier jumping for joy when she told you she made the cheer squad. You smiled and congratulated her knowing she was ecstatic to be on the team. She left shortly saying she needed to meet the coaches for her uniform, ever since then you've been alone.
You let out a frustrated sigh gathering your things while cursing under your breath. At least you finished some homework, now you can go home and just relax. Your thoughts are cut off when someone bursts into the library panting trying to catch their breath. Shushes are thrown at him causing him to scoff.
“Oh relax. Geez, a guy can't even breathe nowadays.” His eyes scanned the library lighting when they land on you.
Oh no, you think. Please, please for the love god tell me I don't have to tutor Steve Harrington.
“Hey y/n! Ms. Rodriguez said you'd tutor me.”
Send the flood. Send it now.
“You’re late Harrington.”
“I know, but hear me out!”
You took a seat gesturing for him to go on.
“Oh, I didn't think you were actually gonna hear me out.”
“Steve, I'll leave.”
“Right, sorry, I would've been here but I needed to pick up the kids from school.”
Kids? “You have kids?”
“God no! I mean, not yet. I'll have little nuggets of my own someday, but I babysit…I guess.”
Your eyes light up as you remember seeing him with a group of kids from time to time. “Oh yeah! Nance’s brother and his friends, right?”
He smiled and sat down next to you nodding his head.
“Yup, they're demons.” He rubbed his hands together and put his backpack on the table. “So when do we start?”
“We started an hour ago Steve. Look, seriously if you want me to be your tutor please come on time.”
Steve nodded and made an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, and hope to die, babe.”
You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head trying to fight off the heat that made way to your cheeks.
“So um, Rodriguez gave me your quiz.”
“Ah, so you've seen my handy work,” he said while leaning back in the chair, his arms thrown behind his head.
“If that's what you want to call it.” you smiled.
Steve swears he felt his heart beat out of his chest when you smiled at him. How has he never noticed how pretty you are? He's seen you around the school before, he knows your friends with Robin. How come you guys haven't crossed paths before?
“You see how you have X=8? It actually equals 20. You have to carry the five here and subtract three from- Steve are you listening?”
“You're really pretty.” he blurred out.
Great, you thought. Now I'm flustered. “Oh, um, thank you, but we should really get back to studying-”
“We should go out sometime.”
You ignore his comment and look through his test making mental notes. “Do you remember anything from algebra?” you asked while glancing at him.
“What?”
You put your head in your hands and let out a sigh. “We're gonna need more than books to help you.”
-
“No, Robin! I need you to put in a good word for me!”
Robin closed her locker and looked at him. “Steve, you're literally a chick magnet. Why do you need my help?”
Steve hopped into the driver's seat with disappointment written on his face. He was supposed to meet you to study after school today but you canceled.
“She's not just a chick robin. There's something about her I just can't shake off.”
“Gross, you've been watching rom-coms too much.”
Steve sighed and saw you walking out of the building with a smile on his face. He's been studying with you for about two weeks now and he's been anxiously waiting to get his test back from Ms. Rodriguez. He's been studying the flash cards you made him paying more attention to your handwriting than the material written on the cards.
“Should I talk to her?” Steve asked while looking over at robin who was too busy applying mascara to her lashes.
“Uh-huh, totally.”
Steve rolled his eyes, stepping out of the car and jogging over to you.
“Y/n! Hey!” he said with a smile on his face.
“Hey, Steve, any news back about your test?”
He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket nervously swaying back and forth on the heels of his feet.
“Nah not yet, by the way, you look stunning today,” he said with a smile. You roll your eyes as he grabs your hand lifting it up in the air.
“cmon, do a little spin for me”
Ever since that first day of studying with you, he's been persistent in getting you to fall for him. He'll bring you little gifts or doodles he does in class when he's bored even though you scold him for not paying attention. He's even brought in his friends to back him up.
“You know Steve is a nice guy,” Mike said. “My sister loved going out with- oof.”
Dustin cut him off with a punch to the arm. “Dude, maybe don't mention the fact that Nancy went out with him.”
Mike made a confused noise. “But she's happy with Jonathan now. What's the harm?”
You reluctantly do the spin pushing him away when he lets out a whistle.
“You're so stupid,” you said walking away from him.
“Stupid for you. When are you gonna let me take you out on a date? Dustin vouched that I'm a hopeless romantic.”
You opened your mouth to say something but got cut off by someone shouting your name.
“Yo! Y/n!”
“Oh hey, Robert, ready to study?”
Steve felt his heart drop. You're studying with other people? But that's your guys’ thing.
“Yeah, coach will have my head if I don't get my history grade up.”
Did you cancel your study date with Steve to study with someone else?
“I'm sure he will superstar, I'll meet you in the library in a bit.”
Robert nodded his head and walked away to the library. You looked at Steve and noticed his mood went down.
“Hey, everything okay?”
“You're studying with Robert?”
“Yeah, his coach practically begged me to tutor him so he can play in Friday's game.”
Steve understood you are free to study with other people. Free to study with other guys. So why was he so jealous?
“Oh, okay cool.”
You held back a giggle as you pushed him back slightly. “Jealous Harrington?”
“A little.”
You swear you always know what he's about to say, yet he always catches you off guard.
You ruffle his hair and make your way to the library throwing a glance at him over your shoulder.
“Don't worry Harrington, there's no guy like you.”
Steve watched you walk away with rosy cheeks and a smile as he walked back to his car humming a random tune.
“Robin.”
“I saw that whole thing you are head over heels for her. I'll put a word in for you.”
“No need, apparently there's no guy like me.”
-
Steve was pushing past students shouting out the occasional “excuse me!” and “get out of my way.” he bursts into the library, his eyes scanning the room before he sees you're nose deep in a book, walkman headphones over your ears.
He sprints over to you and slams his body down in the chair across from you.
You jump and glare at him, moving your headphones down around your neck. “Jesus Steve, how about you warn a girl before you ambush her?”
Steve said nothing as he placed the test in front of you with the biggest smile you've ever seen. You gasped and grabbed the test bringing it closer to you, letting out a squeal when you see a green 85% written at the top of his test. You throw half of your body across the table wrapping him in a hug.
“I told you you could do it, Stevie!”
Steve thought he died right then and there and was greeted by an angel who looked a little too much like you.
You sit back in your seat and give him a bittersweet smile. “This is the end of an era Steve, you're all good now.”
You've never seen a smile leave his face so fast. “What? What do you mean?”
You looked at your watch and started putting some of your books away in your bag.
“You passed the test Steve, that's why Rodriguez asked me to tutor you.”
“But what about my next test?”
You let out a giggle and threw your bag over your shoulder.
“This is the basics, if you understood this then you're set for the rest of the year.”
Steve’s jaw dropped as he looked at you in shock. You set him up! You made him fall in love with you and your beautiful brain only to abandon him before he could make the move!
“But what if I fail again?! What happens then?”
“Steve, you're not gonna fail! I believe in you, you got this!” you encouraged him while standing up. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to pass on my smarts to another jock.”
Steve watched you walk away with a frown on his face. He stormed into the hand room whispering for robin to meet him by his car after practice.
“Hey, y/n told me about you passing! Congrats dingus, maybe you aren't a dingus after all.”
“I need to fail my next assignment.”
Robin sighed and pinched the bridge of her most. “I stand corrected. Okay, what's up?”
Steve opened the car door for her and ran around to his side once robin saluted him and sat in the passenger seat. He started his car and started the drive to Robin’s house.
“She said it's the end of an era! What's that even mean?”
“She meant studying Steve. She considers you a friend now, so you can hang out with her without the textbooks and stress!”
Robin did make a fair point. He could finally flirt with you without you getting onto him about staying focused. It’d just be you two, no books, no kids from your class asking you questions about the notes you took, and no more stupid calculus work. For some unknown reason, all of that terrified Steve. When you guys were studying everything came naturally to Steve, he thinks, no, he knows the minute he hangs out with you outside of study hours he's going to embarrass himself. Steve shook his head and looked over at robin.
“Our study dates are better, I'll just fail tomorrow's assignment, and boom. I'm back in.”
-
You arrived early to school knowing you had to help Eddie cram for his English test in first period. You grabbed a couple of notebooks for your classes today and slammed your locker shouting when you saw robin behind it.
“Jesus Christ! What is up with you and Steve sneaking up on me?!”
Robin put both hands on your shoulders and shook you gently.
“Please talk to him!” she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls of the nearly empty hallway. “He plans on failing all of today’s assignments just so he can keep studying with you!”
“Robin, please stop shaking me. Many people love this brain.”
She stopped shaking you but her grip on your shoulders stayed tight.
“I love you y/n, I really do. You're one of my best friends!”
“Awe, Robi-”
“But I swear to god if I have to hear about how your eyes sparkle every time Steve gets a question right, or about how badly he has to fight the urge to tuck your hair behind your ear when it falls in your face while reading I will poke pencils in my ears!”
Heat rushed to your cheeks at everything robin was saying. Did Steve really feel like that? You know he likes to flirt with you here and there but you thought that was him just being charismatic. Robin rolled her eyes when she sees that you were blushing.
“God, you're just as bad as him.”
-
“Okay so, what Shakespeare is trying to say is-”
“Hey rob, beat it. Gotta discuss something with my girl.” Steve said pulling a chair next to you and slinging his arm around you.
You rolled your eyes and looked over at him. “Steve I'm in the middle of helping Robert write a report-”
“No, no, he's fine. I think I'm gonna have a brain aneurysm if I read anymore.” Robert said while gathering his things.
You opened your mouth ready to ask Steve what was going on but he held a piece of paper up.
“An F?! Stevie, what happened? You were doing so good?” you gasped out grabbing the calculus homework out of his hands.
Steve shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “I guess I need more tutoring, gosh sometimes my memory is so bad I forget things like that!” he said with the snap of his fingers.
You tuned him out as you squinted at the paper, something was off, this wasn't Steve's handwriting.
“Steve?”
“Yes, darling?”
You blushed but chose to ignore his comment. “Your handwriting looks a lot like this one kid I tutored.”
“Duh, it's me. I'm the kid you tutored.”
You shook your head letting out a hum. “Your handwriting is neat. This looks like chicken scratch.”
Steve let out an awkward chuckle and cleared his throat. “Okay fine, I borrowed-”
“Borrowed?”
“I stole Jerry’s homework and pretended it was mine so that way I can keep studying with you.”
“Steve! You can hang out with me outside of studying!”
“I know I can! It's just easier with the books all around me cause I feel like you're not 100% focused on me! I know the second I have all your attention on me in gonna embarrass myself and you'll never want to date me.”
you giggle and give Steve the paper.
“I'll tell you what, next assignment you get an A on we'll go out on a date.”
Steve smiled. “You mean it?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, babe.”
Steve shot out of his seat and kissed you on your cheek running out of the library.
“I won't let you down babe!”
A group of students shushed him and he shushed them back aggressively. “Geez, talk about a tough crowd.”
The next day you opened up your locker picking up a piece of paper that fell out. You unfolded it smiling as you saw the A+ written at the top of his paper right next to his name. Steve snuck up behind you giving your cheek a kiss, smiling at his good grade.
“Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe you owe me a date.”
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pangzi · 2 years
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling Characters: Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series) Additional Tags: Threesome - M/M/M, Smut, Pangzi Sandwich, Anal Sex, Rimming, just a bit, Pangzi birthday week 2022, Xiaoge is in Charge, Rope Bondage, Light Bondage, it's honestly just his chest Summary:
Xiaoge and Wu Xie work together to give Pangzi a nice birthday present.
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as a fellow lotr girlie, what are your opinions on boromir?
Is this what making it feels like? Somewhere, 13 year old MB with her LOTR shrine is SCREAMING.
I think Boromir is the mirror for the audience (you'll have to forgive my book knowledge, I haven't read it in a while so if I misattribute something incorrectly, its only my faulty memory).
At the start of the fellowship, Boromir is the heir to the stewardship of Gondor. I think he rightly (to him, anyway) feels abandoned by other places- Gondor has been keeping Sauron at bay which has come at a very heavy cost. And the ring, to Boromir, is sort of "ends justify the means" (though he never says it). He doesn't realize what the ring would do to his soul, he merely sees a weapon that could HELP him fight the seemingly endless war with Sauron.
In the books he proposes this and the council tells him no, to which Boromir accepts. I think the movies were heavier handed than the books, maybe to illustrate Tolkien's point about good people who make seemingly bad/evil choices for perceived good reasons.
Boromir also doesn't know enough beyond Gondor and what has been done regarding Sauron. He merely sees the toll of his own people, his home, his family. And I think that blinds him to the realities that not JUST Gondor are fighting this war to keep all of Middle Earth safe.
So Boromir has this like, massive savior complex, he can't fathom a world outside his limited worldview, and most importantly, I think Boromir is pretty desperate by the time we meet him. And all of these factors make him an attractive target for the ring.
So Boromir "fails" like, I think, we would all fail. We're not Aragorn, we're not Frodo. We're Boromir- flawed, desperate, easily tempted humanity. Boromir is "saved" from his temptation by his self-sacrifice for Merry and Pippin.
I like Boromir. He was doing his best, I think it's easy to sympathize with his suspicion and his desires.
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anamelessfool · 2 months
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I heard you like films, please can you tell me your top five?? And also your favourite horrors 👉👈
I love how a film person (me) gets excited to talk about films and then when asked to pick a set list they start freaking out haha
I'm not pretentious about films, I don't separate art films from animation from popular films. If it entertained me, made me think I love it!
But you gave me an out so technically I get to pick ten :P
Ok, top five (as of today, no order really)
1. The Big Lebowski
2. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
3. Princess Mononoke
4. The Fifth Element
5. Amadeus
Honorable Mentions: Singing in the Rain, Boogie Nights, Rope
Top horror (and I use the term loosely...I'm not a splatter gore horror person, I'm a fan of worldbuilding and atmosphere)
1. Hellraiser
2. Starship Troopers
3. Hereditary
4. The Thing
5. Alien
Honorable Mentions: The Ring, Blue Velvet, The Color Out of Space
I did a post around the holidays about Papa Coded films, too. (link)
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apollos-olives · 5 months
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i want to mention that while yes, the conditions that palestinians live in is horrid, palestine is still a beautiful place.
there are so many stories of people returning from their trip to palestine and all of them saying that they were disgusted and horrified and the living conditions they say the palestinians were in were just awful, and while yes all of that is true, and palestinians do live in ridiculous conditions, i still want to make it clear that palestine is an insanely beautiful place. our mountains are beautiful, our plants are beautiful, our mosques, our churches, our olive trees, our birds. palestine is a beautiful place. it is the birthplace of both christianity and judaism, it is the birthplace of jesus. our temples are astonishing, our food is delicious, our culture is rich, and our diversity is beyond. our dances are beautiful, our clothing, our jewlery, our homes. each and every one of our lives is precious.
go to any palestinian home in the world and you'll see beautiful things. the west wants to get rid of us, to completely decimate every part of our existence, but we will not let them. and we need everyone on our side to help us keep palestine's beauty safe.
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bones4thecats · 2 months
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What If They Were Fathers?
Type of Writing: #5 - Poll Result Characters: Bonten! Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kakucho, and Hajime Kokonoi Name: What If They Were Fathers? Original Poll Link: Here
A/N: The Reader is FEMALE in this, since they're pregnant and whatnot.
WARNING! This contains: Mentions of drugs, overdoses, alcohol addiction, and drug addiction
Spoilers for: Bonten Arc
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🍵 It shocked Mikey enough that you still loved him even though he wasn't the same happy-go-lucky boy he was years ago, instead, he grew into a emotionless and dead-appearing individual
🍵 So, when he heard that you were pregnant, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a small bit of love grow inside his now cold-heart
🍵 Mikey was very good when it came to caring for you during your pregnancy, he would have the others go get you things you needed, since he suspected someone was after him and you
🍵 After all, being pregnant slows down a woman from whooping ass
🍵 It was surprising, but, when you went into labor and you were yelling at him as he tried calming you down, Mikey stayed as calm as ever
🍵 He would slightly flinch at the loud screams of pain you let out, and he was honestly kinda scared he may lose you when the gang's doctor rushed you to lay down and stay calm
" Mr. Sano, sir, would you like to hold your baby? "
🍵 Looking behind him, he stared at his first child, a son, and he felt a shimmer of happiness and sadness rush through him at the same time, it reminded him of when he first met Emma, how he cared for her automatically without any reason
🍵 As he held your baby, he let a tear rush down his cheek as you chuckled at his small moment of vulnerability, something he swore he would never show was in-fact showing, he was still human inside
🍵 Now, while your son grew up, Mikey was a hint of a helicopter-father, he runs a very dangerous organization, one that is being hunted by authorities constantly, and he had enough to do when worrying about you, but, his son was so similar to younger him
🍵 The boy would run up to strangers and make them laugh without a care in the world as Mikey would hide himself deeper in a hoodie while you got your son back to you guys
🍵 But, despite many beliefs, he's a decent father
🍵 Mikey would put some things behind and would play with his son, for example, if his son wanted to mess around with some sock puppets and make a story, Mikey would indulge him and mess with him, making his voice deepen and rise for his son's laugh to erupt
🍵 He does have his faults though, as his work can end up making his son mature faster than a child should, or he could end up saying or doing something that upset you, making his son start disconnecting with him
🍵 Overall, he's a 7.5/10 father, he's good in certain situations and bad in others
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🔪 Sanzu and you have known one another for years, planting the first time you ever met nearly 10 years prior to this one
🔪 When he went through the years of torturous addictions, whether it be to alcohol or drugs that he somehow got a hold of through means even you didn't know of, you were always there to pull him away
🔪 Because of those issues, he had no idea why you settled for him of all people, you were so beautiful, you could've gotten with any other member of Bonten, maybe even his own boss
🔪 But, you settled with him, the guy who had nearly overdosed from his drugs and alcohol multiple times
🔪 While pushing those hateful thoughts of himself to the back of his brain, Sanzu had gone through multiple attempts of rehabilitation, and after a few failures and your threat of leaving him, he began taking it seriously, he loves you and he needs you to be there
🔪 It took a while, but, once he made it to your first milestone of a year of sobriety, you gave him a reward, which led to something bigger than expected
🔪 You had gotten pregnant, leaving Sanzu is shock, and his brain nearly, nearly, slipped away to him grabbing a large bottle of whiskey and wine mixed with a large bag of his old drugs
🔪 In the midst of his panic-attack, it took Kakucho's words of affirmation with his boss' assurance of him getting a form of paternity leave to just calm him down
🔪 He takes excellent care of you during your pregnancy, and that carried onto him as a father, to a degree, that is
🔪 When you went into labor, he was panicking badly, he had nearly passed out when you began to scream in pain, and during this mass of chaos, the doctor had to usher Ran and Rindou to take him out of the room
🔪 Hearing your screams of agony stop made his heart sink, what happened? Were you okay? How was his baby? Oh God, what if he lost you and the baby?! How would he live with himself?!
" Mr. Haruchiyo, your wife and daughter are in perfect condition. Would you like to come and see them? " " Yes! I- I mean, yes, please. "
🔪 When he held your daughter for the first time, he swore on his life he would protect you guys from everything, including himself. And, that day, he swore to stay sober for good. No fuck ups this time, he couldn't, no, he wouldn't risk harming his child and his own wife
🔪 Ever since your daughter was born, the rest of Bonten began to hide their deals from your home more often, by orders of Mikey, since, he knew how a traumatizing childhood can affect someone
🔪 Sanzu loves to play with her, for example, at just a few months old until she was around maybe seven years old, he would pick her up and toss her in the air for him to catch
🔪 Unlike Mikey, Sanzu doesn't really fear anyone harming his child, if they were a boy that is, he has a full-fledged belief that boys are far more feared than women, so, whenever his daughter starts talking to a stranger, he glares from behind her to make sure that random guy didn't even attempt touching her
🔪 He definitely tries holding back his tears during her first day of school, or really during any massive part of her life, especially when she graduated and moved out, his baby was so old now... he's getting back pain!
" Dad... I'm just moving across the street in another apartment, don't worry! I'll come see you and Mom whenever I can! Please don't cry! " " I'm not crying about that! Your Mother swat a fly earlier, I feel bad for the fly! "
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❤️‍🔥 This guy is the definition of husband and father material, that I cannot deny
❤️‍🔥 When you guys started dating, he always had the idea of your future, from marriage to having children, whenever he would come home from a fight all injured, he would ask you if this was what you really wanted
❤️‍🔥 Did you really want to be with him? For crying out loud, he could get possibly killed at any time! This especially set in when you guys lost Izana (I believe that still happens... correct me if I'm wrong!)
❤️‍🔥 It still shocks him to this day on the fact you married him, he worked for Bonten, a gang very well known for their heinous actions, all members, including Kakucho himself, have done horrible things, how could you look him in the eye, nonetheless propose having children?
❤️‍🔥 You really surprise him at every turn, don't you?
❤️‍🔥 He smiled and gave you the thumbs up. Thankfully, it didn't take very long for you to find out you were pregnant, and as your stomach grew, he read many books on parenthood, he couldn't risk his child having a childhood as rough as he did
❤️‍🔥 When you went into labor, he was scared out of his mind, all of a sudden the floor was wet and you were heaving over in pain, leaving him to carry you bridal-style as he ran to Bonten's doctor
" I think they're in labor, Doctor! " " Girls! Get her in the delivery room, stat! "
❤️‍🔥 Hearing you scream in pain made him flinch as Kokonoi and Takeomi tried keeping him from busting down the door to comfort you
❤️‍🔥 Once the doctor came outside of the room and asked for him to come inside, he burst past the man dressed in scrubs and hugged you as you laid on the bed with a blanket in your arms
❤️‍🔥 You hushed him and held up your baby girl's head, and when your husband laid eyes on his daughter, he began to tear up, he really started crying was when she gripped his finger with her tiny fist
❤️‍🔥 You guys really made this? How surprising is this, huh?
❤️‍🔥 As your son grew up, Kakucho adores messing with her hair, he always had his in a buzz-cut as he grew older, so, whenever she asked for him to braid her hair when she was small, he obliged and gave her such a cute hairstyle!
❤️‍🔥 Kakucho obligates his family in first place alongside his work, though, since he was one of the top four people in Bonten, he got quite busy, but, he always tries pushing it all away as best as he could
❤️‍🔥 Thankfully, Mikey was more lenient with that since he knew of Kakucho's family-oriented life
❤️‍🔥 He is definitely one of the best fathers in the Tokyo Revengers Universe, he wants his child to grow up in a world where they feel wanted, and that roots deep with his own childhood
❤️‍🔥 This guy is also very protective, he's lost so many people, his best friend, Izana, for example
❤️‍🔥 Anyone tries harming his daughter, there will be hell to pay.
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💰 Kokonoi, much like Kakucho, is still surprised that you wanted to be with him, but, he's also surprised that he was still with you... he believed that after the loss of Akane that he would never love again
💰 Thankfully, when you came into his life during the earlier years of Bonten to help with some issues with relations between gangs, Kokonoi began to bond with you
💰 When he asked you to marry him after a few months of dating and a couple weeks of courting, he remembers exactly how you smiled when you confirmed you wanted the same as him
💰 Kokonoi has enough resources to care for his family, so, when you proposed having children, he wasn't very worried about expenses, this guy knows so many ways of making money that even the richest people in the world would be baffled
💰 He was very excited when you found out you were having a baby, nonetheless when it was found out to be twins
💰 During your early months of pregnancy, he would grab everything for female babies and male babies, since the gender was hard to tell until your fifth month
💰 This guy was on cloud nine when notified you were both genders
💰 Now he doesn't have to worry about Mikey being mad that he bought so much male and female items for these babies
💰 Anyways, when you eventually went into labor, Kokonoi was as calm as a butterfly on the outside, while on the inside he was like a swarm of angry geese, thoughts flying faster than the snitch in Harry Potter
💰 He stayed in the room with you, allowing you to squeeze his hand, despite the immense pain you were bringing to his hands, he probably was getting bruises from your hold
💰 When the sounds of your first baby's cries entered his ears, he swore he forgot all about the pain in his hands, but, when his daughter came out just a few minutes later, his heart swooned
💰 If you've seen Friends, you might be familiar when Frank Jr. ran out to the gang and was yelling about his first child's birth, oh yeah, he definitely does that
" Yes! We have the first one down! I cannot believe I have a son... oh God! I have a Hajime Jr.! " " Has your wife even agreed to that name, Kokonoi? " " Nope! "
💰 Kokonoi held his son, whom you had to turn down his ideas of naming him Hajime Jr., and you held your daughter, and you had to turn down him naming her Sanzu-ia, he loves pissing Sanzu off too much...
💰 As your babies grew up, Kokonoi spoiled them beyond belief, and you had to hold him back from doing something stupid, like buying a TV show because his little baby girl wanted to meet a character she loved
💰 While the two grew up, he, much like Sanzu, cries at mass events for them, but, unlike Sanzu, he doesn't try holding himself back from showing his emotions to his children, prompting their embarrassment and you laughing at their antics
" Dad... please stop crying, God you're so embarrassing me... " " I can't! My babies are growing up so fast! Can you believe that just eighteen years ago you're mother was pushing you out of her- " " DAD! "
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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader
Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.
Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.
Words: 4OOO
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“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.
You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.
“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.
Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.
“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”
“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”
The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”
Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.
“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.
“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”
“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.
“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.
“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”
As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.
From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.
Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.
Did he just ogle a queen?
Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.
He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.
Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”
You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.
“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.
“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.
“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”
“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”
Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”
“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.
“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”
“You fuck it out, don’t you?”
Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”
“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”
Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.
“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.
“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”
Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”
“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.
You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.
“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”
It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.
Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.
“Close your eyes,” he mutters.
“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.
He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.
Speaking of him kneeling–
“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.
“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.
Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.
“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”
Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”
If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.
“Then do it.”
Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”
Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”
You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”
“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”
As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.
His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.
My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.
“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.
He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.
His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.
Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.
You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.
“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”
“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.
“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.
“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.
Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”
Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.
Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”
You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.
Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.
Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.
He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.
Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.
The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.
You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.
Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.
“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”
You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.
“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”
It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.
Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.
“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.
“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”
You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.
Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.
“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.
“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”
He laughs, “Again?”
You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.
You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”
“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.
“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”
“It would be an honour.”
“Likewise.”
“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”
“The honour?”
He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”
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Doc is really, really, really tired of getting dragged into things.
That’s the problem with this server: he tries to do his own thing, but people cannot leave him alone. No matter what he does to deter them, whether that be harmless threat or psychological warfare, they always come back to dance on his metaphorical lawn. Or actual lawn. Or precious one-of-a-kind bush.
And at this point, he thought he had gotten used to all the shenanigans. He doesn’t want to be the grumpy old man amongst his friends and colleagues, so Doc tries to laugh it off, not take it so seriously. Occasionally, he’ll even join in on the jokes and put a little extra pizzazz into his mannerisms. Doc has his limits, of course, everyone does, but he’s been working on pushing those limits further for the past while.
So when Beef makes the joke about Big Salmon on day one, he joins in on it for the moment. It’s a good joke, really. It gets a hearty laugh out of him more than once. The joke is made, people laugh, Doc is included, he moves on and goes back to doing his own thing.
Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what he said. The joke should’ve been a one-and-done, forgotten after a week’s time. Whatever he said should’ve been inconsequential. Should be. Beef’s not one to drag out a bit for that long, usually, but here he is, dressed as a salmon and saying he got emails from a fish. Doc is utterly clueless throughout most of it- he doesn’t even understand what constituted him getting dragged in this time. And the way Beef and Skizz are talking is scaring him, just a little bit. Skizz is too aggressive, Beef is laying down the charmspeak, and both of their eyes are glossy and strange. There’s a hollow echo in the room.
But Doc, absurd as this is, plays along. Watches as one of his villagers gets killed. Lets nervous laughter through as he’s given 10 salmon heads, and leaves. When he gets back to his base out in the middle of nowhere, he realizes that these aren’t normal salmon heads, they’re worse: deformed, many-eyed, slimy and reeking of rot. And while this isn’t the strangest thing Doc has seen, as far as he knows, Beef isn’t one for game-breaking like he is. The deformities on the heads don’t even look player made. Whatever this is, it’s bizaarre, and it’s not something Doc wants to be involved in.
Then the whispers start.
He doesn’t do what he’s asked—build a shrine for whatever Big Salmon is—initially. He lets it be for a bit, shrugs it off, and keeps building. But it’s hard to focus when you can’t sleep—in his dreams he’s drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, sea life surrounding him and screaming and he’s screaming too as a pair of eyes stare him down—and when you can’t get a moment of quiet. He keeps hearing that damn slapping sound and little nothings about shrine schematics, block pallets, glorious statues. The air starts reeking of rot, far more than a swamp should. Strange slime crawls up the scaffolding that he keeps slipping on.
And this is why Doc is tired: Big Salmon is not his first rodeo. This isn’t the first time something has grabbed hold of his soul and tried to puppeteer it to his own demise. This isn’t even the scariest thing he’s come across- he still dreams of watching himself rip his own arm off. He knows gods and entities like he knows redstone, all the intricacies of magic that weave through the universe. They want to be satisfied, satiated. Doc will not give whatever Big Salmon is that satisfaction, not for long.
So he puts up with the rot, the slime, the dreams. Keeps the salmon heads, perpetually grotesque, in a chest where he can see them. Gives them a minuscule in: blueprints are crafted of the shrine he is meant to build, dying leaves are placed and waterlogged, copper is bent and formed into a worthless statue. The sky is cloudy. The sky has been cloudy all week, swamp air thick with the smell of rotting fish. He gives Beef a call, tells him to bring Skizz along.
When what should be Doc’s friend arrives, he is more fish than man. The tinnitus-like whisper of the thing trying to get him reaches a roar as he gives Beef a look over- there is no telling where the suit ends and the skin begins, all scaled, slimy and opalescent. Skizz, on the contrary, is looking relatively normal; the only strange thing about him are his glazed over eyes. Something about that makes Doc queasy about his plan, but he swallows the bile rising in his throat and steels himself, forces himself to be calm. This is not his first rodeo.
Doc’s faked smile doesn’t fail him as he leads Beef and Skizz to the statue. It doesn’t fail him as he hands the last rotting head to Beef for him to place, on top of an over-polished button. His grin only widens as Skizz counts down his boss pressing the button.
With a single button press, the voices that have taken residence in Doc’s head are wiped out, as are Skizz and Beef: bloody…fish…bits fly high into the sky when they fall into the exploding trap. There is a deafening boom, and then there is Doc, unscathed, laughing wickedly, organic eye sparkling with mania. Gods never win against him. There is no winning against the goat.
And finally, with the threat of Big Salmon defeated, Doc can finally rest. After all, he is incredibly tired.
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moongreenlight · 6 months
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More on Soap and his f!demon!reader because you guys forced me like oooookay I get it you’re horny on main
Just kidding everything I do is for you. All you have to do is vaguely imply that you want something and I’m all over it baby anything you need.
Mdni. Nsfw below cut.
Johnny’s demon who follows him everywhere after his first kill. Bound to him the moment the bullet left his chamber. A partnership of sorts. Cast into the pits and valleys of his soul. Gifted to him in the few intimate moments where the deafening blast of his rifle slowed time. Kept a secret even from him. A partnership between this world and the next. Quite literally a give and take. You sworn to him so long as he kept up his end of the bargain. Kill or be killed.
You stayed concealed in shadows for years. Flitting from corner to corner to make sure you always had an eye on him. Silently coaching him through little whispers carried to his ears on the wind. Watching him grow as a soldier under your care. Honing and refining his skill as you saw fit. Leaning your chin just over his shoulder during missions. Voice leading him through to victory like siren song.
Protecting him when it was necessary. Wrapping your big wings around him to shield him from an onslaught of bullets. Leaving his side only for a moment to gore a sniper with their sights on him with your blackbuck horns. Curling your fingers around his to force the trigger of his pistol back if he hesitated and put himself in danger.
It was a bit dirty in principle. Like forging his signature on the deed that signed his soul over to the devil, but he didn’t seem to mind. The cost of invincibility coming at a relatively low price all things considered. The only drawback was his ego. Sizable before, now bloated into something almost grotesque. Cocksure and arrogant but not without his charms.
Not to mention, you’d almost taken a liking to Johnny in your time together. Like a parasite slowly becoming fond of their host. He keeps you fed. Bringing you with him to the field, letting you gorge yourself on blood and carnage and pain until all you can do is drape yourself over his broad shoulders and lazily flick your magic around when it’s required. And he’s decently entertaining for a mortal. Has to be the best company you’ve been forced to keep in at least a few hundred years.
Though you found yourself getting increasingly irritated each time he came home from a mission and thanked God of all people. Letting him pick up a few more scrapes and bruises than you usually would on his missions after that whole bit started. Each murmured ‘Thank you’ making you hiss and howl down at him from your perch in the shadows. Wanting to show him just who he should be thanking for his survival.
Tired of his baseless belief and wanting to teach him a lesson on saying thank you; you revealed your human form to him during midnight mass on Christmas Day. Can’t say you didn’t have a sense of humor.
You sat alone in the pews. Feeling when he entered the church minutes after you. Skin erupting into goosebumps, hair standing on end, a heat starting under your skin like you’d been dropped into a pot of water being slowly brought to a boil. You watched from the corner of your eye as he and his family slowly made their way down the rows of pews, finding yours was the only one with enough room to hold the lot of them together. It all seemed too perfect when you and Johnny ended up knee-to-knee.
You felt his energy shift. He could feel you as much as you could feel him, but the sensation was foreign to him. The same discomfort you’d been plunged into when you took your human form. Trying to cooly fold the sleeves of his dress shirt up at his elbows and seem attentive to his mother who was harping on him about his hair up until the moment the priest stepped to the pulpit.
You didn’t get a chance at him until the congregation was finally prompted to greet one another. Some love your neighbor nonsense.
Johnny turned to you immediately. Standing from his pew with the rest of the crowd. Unable to sit still in such discomfort. His skin hot as yours. Buzzing just under the surface like he was inches away from a live wire.
You blinked up at him through thick lashes, wetting your lips with a flick of your tongue before pushing to your feet. Letting him shift his weight for a few more moments as you looked him over.
Standing in front of him, he dwarfed you. Always had- but especially now when you didn’t have your wings or horns to compensate. Not the tallest in the room, but carried himself like he was. Chest puffed out, arms subtly flexed by his sides, dress shirt hugging his muscled form just right.
He stuck a hand out. Brow cocked as he sized you up with glittering blue eyes.
“Peace be with you.”
He spoke first. You fitted your hand in his. Barely blinking when the meeting of your skin elicited something like a static shock. Relieving both of you from your discomfort.
“And with your spirit.”
You responded through a coy smile. He looked reluctant to take his arm back. The shock hadn’t deterred him. Instead he wrapped his fingers all the way around your hand, hanging on to you for a beat longer than was necessary.
“Alone on Christmas?”
He still didn’t let go of your hand. A sharp smile. Almost predatory.
“Nobody to spend it with.”
You shrugged, still gazing up at him with big doe eyes. Finally allowing your hand to drop from his and immediately feeling pins and needles in the absence of his touch.
“Don’t believe that for a minute.”
You caught his knee inching toward yours on more than one occasion as the mass carried on. Like he was testing the waters to see if you were truly the reprive he was seeking. Fidgeting slightly where he sat. Teeth clicking softly as he ground them. Cracking his knuckles. Clenching and unclenching his jaw. Shifting his hips slightly forward on the bench. To his credit, he showed an impressive amount of restraint. Never touching you. Not that it would have done much through his trousers.
The one true pitfall of your being bound to his soul. Forgotten until now in its seeming insignificance. It was near agony for the both of you when you took human form. Like your life force being torn in two and dangled temptingly close but just out of arm’s reach. A kind of pain that didn’t need to land blows on either of your physicalities. Felt divinely through each you. Not used to being separated, you had an almost instinctual need to be together. You’d known beforehand and he seemed to be picking up on it quickly. Skin needed to touch skin in order to provide either one of you any relief. Give both of your spirits space to knit themselves back together.
For being so tightly braided in the fibers of his being, you found it almost shocking that you hadn’t noticed how desperate he could be when he was looking for release. Body tense in his increased discomfort. No doubt grappling with the effects of your separation. Sweat beading at the back of his neck. Tugging at the collar of his dress shirt. Bouncing his knee. Looking up toward the rafters before fixing his gaze on you in an attempt to pass it off as a sweep of the room. The way he brushed your arm reaching over you for a bible nestled in a pocket just in front of you. Making contact with your exposed skin for a fraction of a second and nearly whining when the both of you felt your unease settle for a fleeting moment.
Trying to push up against you when you were down on the kneelers, murmuring a clipped apology each time. Still somehow finding time to rake his eyes over you. Nails digging little half-moons into the back of his hands where they were clasped in prayer.
On the tail end of the service, communion was given. You followed behind Johnny and his family. Just behind him like you had so many times before. His normal prowl substituted for a more casual saunter. Subduing his ego for something a bit more reserved in the presence of not only his family but also the good lord. Nodding his thanks as he took his bread and wine. You had to fight back the distasteful curl of your lip at the motion. Even now he was thanking God.
You saw the way he tried to casually turn his gaze back to you when you stepped up to take your Eucharist. Tongue laid out flat and long, head tipped back a few degrees. Intentionally pornographic in your acceptance of the wafer. Nearly tripping over his feet when he caught you staring straight back to him. You made a show of pulling your tongue back into your mouth, your best attempt at a demure smile curving your lips.
He tailed you closely on your march out of the church. You lingering on the walkway. Seeing the way his eyes flicked back to you as he walked his parents to their car. Mother still going on about something or the other. He needed to visit more or he needed a proper haircut or he needed to call more. He cut her off with a kiss on the cheek before closing the car door. Shook his father’s hand. And as expected, crossed the parking lot quickly to get back to you. Grinning wolfishly as he saw you stood with your winter coat folded neatly over your arms pretending to look around for who knew what.
“Still alone, are we?”
He queried, standing in front of you, folding his arms over his chest. You didn’t miss the way he flexed just barely, making the dress shirt bite into his bicep.
“You worried about me?”
You cocked your head slightly to the side, chewing the inside of your lip to dilute the smile threatening to curl your lips.
“Ken I oughta be, pretty lass like you.”
He chuckled softly, blue eyes glittering under the warm glow of the lights outside the church.
“Aren’t you sweet.”
You deadpanned.
“You’ve got no idea.”
He’s used to getting what he wants, that ego of his. And you’d made the mistake of not outlining exactly how quickly you’d play into his game beforehand. Mind now clouded from not being with him. Walls came crumbling down embarrassingly quick.
He’d somehow persuaded you to let him give you a lift back to his place. You making up some excuse about not being from the area, staying with a friend who must have fallen asleep instead of picking you up after church. Somehow allowed him to keep his hand fixed on the small of your back up two flights of stairs to his flat. Somehow wound up with a tumbler of whiskey in your hand, pushed onto the couch with Johnny sandwiching you against the arm.
Awfully smart for a mortal man. Figured out what it took to keep him comfortable and ran with it. His fingertips ghosting along the hem of your dress. Delighting in the goosebumps both of you got when he brushed your skin with his. The insatiable heat crackling within each of you dying down each time only to be fanned with a renewed fervor when he drew back. Eventually settling on not pulling away at all. Resting his hand on the top of your thigh, running the fabric of your dress between a few fingers. Careful to keep his palm flat against you. Infuriatingly comfortable with you seeing as you were a complete stranger to him. Chatting like the two of you were old friends. Flirting like you had done this time and time again.
He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Couldn’t be arsed to play the fool and try and skirt around the subject. A dog after a bone, really. Practically drooling over you as you made idle chitchat. And the worst part was that it was working. You’d try to blame it on your addled state. Not in your right mind. Only you knew how flimsy those excuses were. Trying to curb his advances with little success. Trying to keep the ball in your court.
You were still looking to assign blame to something when he grabbed your hips and tugged you under him on the couch. Circumstance. Mindset. Whiskey. Church. God. You couldn’t even remember what the two of you had been talking about. Something insignificant. Very well could have been the weather. You had a feeling it didn’t really matter.
Hovering over you close enough to feel his feverish heat all over. His knee forcing its way between your legs like he felt some kind of right. Using his big paws, still clamped around your hips to grind you against his thigh. A sharp laugh when you tried to hide the soft mewls that bubbled up inside you.
You felt smaller than you had in eons. Not used to being jerked about. Reduced to something resembling a true human under Johnny’s touch. Not having been material for centuries would do that, you supposed. No room to think about the needs of your physical body if it’s something that’s been shelved until now. And- fuck. It’s like somehow your body had found room to store up thousands of years of repression. Bursting at the seams. Somehow, the heat in your belly rivaled that of being separated from him. A feeling that couldn’t be sated like your bloodlust. Like a hunger that could claw its way up out of you if left untreated.
He was grinning at you like the cat that ate the fucking canary. Properly giddy. Tickled with himself for snatching you up. You wanted to snap at him. Hiss and spit like you had when he’d thanked God instead of you after a mission. Remind him that he wasn’t the hero he thought he was because this was all part of your plan, but the words died in your throat.
“Jesus. Thought you’d be a good girl. Meetin’ you in a church and all.”
His voice wasn’t doing anything to help your case. Nearly sending you feral under him. Unable to help the wetness gathering at your sex. You tried to press your thighs together. To buck his hands off of you, but it only made him snap his teeth in your face. His fingers bit in just a touch harder, pressing you down into the couch.
“Thought you said you were sweet.”
You bit back, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Dinnae know s’what you wanted. Don’t seem like it.”
“Funny.”
You shot back, voice a bit more obviously breathless than you would have liked. He’d let go of your hips, leaving you to grind yourself against the muscle of his thigh that was pressed tightly against you. He looked down, watching the way you moved. Whining at the sight. You were much too lost in your mind to notice the small damp spot that was forming on the leg of his trousers. Rolling your hips lazily against him.
“You like funny? Cunt get this wet for any funny bastard that comes along?”
You couldn’t muffle the high keening sound that tore from your throat in time. His filthy words taking you by surprise. Blinking rapidly and making a vain effort to still your hips, but he was quick to the kill. Snorting a laugh and tugging you up off the couch. Bullying you down the short hallway and into his bedroom. Walking you backwards using his legs to guide you. Puffed-out chest knocking you in the direction he wanted, kicking at your feet if you were going to run into the wall or a corner. Herding you like some sort of farm dog. There was a nasty look in his eyes now that you weren’t touching anymore. Even a few seconds apart seemed too much.
He shoved you backward onto the bed, not giving you time to adjust the awkward angle at which you’d landed before he was knelt before you on the ground. Yanking you forward by the backs of your knees which caused your dress to bunch at your hips. Leaving your dripping sex exposed to him. The thin panties doing little to hide your arousal. You yipped softly, trying to twist away from him. Give yourself the high ground, but he wasn’t having it.
He wasn’t the light, arrogant, charming Johnny you’d seen before. Nor was he the dark, rough operator you’d seen him be on the field. This was something different entirely. He looked like a predator that had finally caught some elusive prey. A flash of his teeth through an infuriatingly smug smile. Eyes raking you over like he was about to tear into you. It made something deep within you coil tightly. The heat in your belly now at a roaring boil. Your plan long forgotten. Lost somewhere to swirl among the fog that took over your mind.
Given the animosity he was exuding, he took his sweet time warming you up. Kissing, nipping, sucking, licking his way up your legs. From knee to hip on both sides. Leaving small, dark marks on your skin. Marking his territory. Panting softly over your barely clothed cunt. You making your situation even worse when you twitched and mewled softly under him. Cheeks burning a deep scarlet.
It was entirely too much and somehow not enough. The visual of him knelt between your legs that were hanging off the bed. His artful way of touching you. Your thundering heartbeat and the blood rushing in your ears. It nearly pushed you over the edge without him even needing to touch you.
He was a dog pulling on a taught leash. Doing everything he could to restrain himself. His breathing was ragged. Eyes steely. Pupils blown out. Unable to look away from the damp spot on your panties. Humming his approval at the sight. Working his calloused fingers under the fabric and guiding them down your legs. His muscles were tense, impossibly so, threatening to burst the seams of his shirt. Swallowing hard when he finally got a look at your drooling pussy.
“Jesus, bonnie. Fuckin’ perfect.”
He shifted slightly on his knees. Cock pressing uncomfortably hard against his pants. The muscles in his jaw twitched slightly. Sat stilled for a moment with his hands at your thighs with a white-knuckle grip.
You whined. A choked sound. Trying to squirm out of his eyesight. A bit uncomfortable being ogled. This sent him back into action, strong hands yanking you back toward him. Snapping his teeth in your face in warning.
He then spent more time working you out. Like he had nothing else he’d rather be doing. His mouth hot and wet. Touching anywhere but your clit out of some torturous principle. Spreading you open with his thumbs. Lolling out his tongue and allowing drool to drip down off it and add to your gathering slick. Blowing cool air on you. Watching your every twitch and shake with lust-glazed eyes that somehow seemed more attentive than normal. Committing you to memory.
You were nearly in tears. He’d ruined your plan. Turned you from an all powerful being into some shivering, whimpering thing. Overstimulated without him needing to wreck you with an orgasm. Sweating and whining and yelping at his touch. Trying to tangle your fingers in his hair and jerk him closer, but he just swatted your hands away or sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh to shut you up. Unable to be put off of his path even after you’d stooped well below your status and managed to ask nicely a few times.
And when he finally, fucking finally, showed you a bit of mercy; he only sunk one finger into you. Enough to make you let out a low, throaty growl, but not enough to satisfy you. He pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. Biting his lip and panting as he watched the way your drooling cunt swallowed him so perfectly. You tried to roll your hips into him like you had on the couch. Tried to grind into his knuckles to give your swollen clit some friction, but he rewarded your efforts with a mean slap on the leg. It took you by surprise. Pain like that- physical pain- had been so rare that it made you cry out and jerk your head up to stare at him wide eyed and open mouthed.
“Yer gettin’ bratty. Take what I give you.”
He shrugged, still unable to tear his eyes away from where you were clenched around him. Though he didn’t bother hiding the smug smile he was sporting.
“N-not enough. More.”
You whined, tossing your head back onto the mattress.
“Hell of a way to say thank you.”
He chided, tutting his tongue softly.
“You’re out of your mind if-“
He put a quick stop to your impending tirade by stuffing you full with another finger. A soft squelching sound as he began to pump faster that sent you reeling. Unable to form a coherent thought, you were left to fall apart on his bed. Legs hanging lamely off the edge as he had his way with your cunt. Treating it like you weren’t even there. Cooing pure filthy words of admiration to your sweet cunt. Pinching around your clit for a moment before sliding back down to hold you open between the index and middle fingers of his free hand.
Fuck. So pretty. Look how she sucks me in, mm? Needy thing. Never been treated this good? Need‘ta get you ready, yeah? Bet she’ll be prettier all stretched out.
By this point, you were sobbing. Fat tears rolling down your cheeks and creating little stains on the comforter on either side of your head. Rolling down your neck. Something coiled so tightly under your belly that you were certain you would implode. Turn yourself inside out before he ever granted you release. Pained and overstimulated and under-stimulated all at once. Rendering you useless in doing anything other than moaning and fisting the sheets weakly in your hands.
He stayed like this for a few minutes, until he could tell that you were getting pushed to your breaking point. Working up his pace. Curling his fingers more and more. Letting his breath fan you. Still uttering filth like it was prayer. Fucking reverent. Slowly adding drops of water to a reservoir until the dam burst. It sent you careening over the edge when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit and gave a gentle suck. Lewd, wet noises coming from the both of you. It took all of a few seconds for you to reach your orgasm. Whatever had been furled tightly within you finally snapping and exploding outwards. Wiping your mind clean. Only allowing you to focus on your release. Walls clenching and spasming around his fingers that did not relent. Crying out and moaning and gasping much louder than you’d meant. Clapping a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. Bucking your hips up into him and re-starting the entire process when your now hypersensitive clit grazed his teeth or tongue.
He stayed latched on to you for much longer than was appropriate. Lapping up as much of your spend as he could. Working his fingers into you well past the point of exhaustion. Keeping you spread open and on his view the entire way. Paying no mind to the way his knees began to object to his position or how tight his cock was pressed against his pants. Obsessed with the way your body reacted to him. Obsessed with your pleasure.
It felt like he was trying to make you come completely undone. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until you were nothing but a puddle on the bed. He spared you no mercy when he finally pushed himself to his feet. Hands flying to his belt and tearing it off. Too impatient be bothered to shed his trousers completely, opting to tuck the waistband just under his heavy balls. Shucking your dress up over your head. Using the slick gathered on his hands to lubricate his cock before he started fucking into his hand.
His leaking tip bumped against your clit each time he thrusted forward, sending you spiraling. Seeing stars. And now that he was certain he’d gotten you to come, it seemed the only thing he could focus on was his own orgasm. Yanking off his dress shirt with one hand. Working his needy mouth across your chest, up your neck, over your jaw until finally he met your lips. Leaving a slick trail of spit in his wake. Meeting your mouth with such a desperation that your teeth bumped together. His tongue sloppily working it’s way past your lips and further into your mouth.
He continued to fuck into his hands, eyes rolling back each time he brushed against you. Hypersensitive by nature, amplified a thousand times by the throbbing hardness of his cock. Dipping into you just a centimeter at a time. Driving the both of you insane. The scalding heat of his skin pressed flush against yours. The taste of yourself still on his mouth and chin. Sweat on sweat. Your head spinning. Mind still clouded with blinding pleasure. You wanted to tear him to shreds. So frustrated with him and his effect on you. Ruining your plans. Like he’d taken a seam ripper to your edges and was pulling you apart without even needing to try.
He hummed something filthy that you couldn’t quite make out. Sound muffled by the blood thundering through your ears. Letting out something that resembled a scream when he finally sheathed his cock deep within your walls. No longer satisfied with the stimulation of his hand. Bottoming out on his first thrust. Finally slipping himself out of the collar that was choking him in his rabid attempt to bury himself in you. He gave you no time to adjust to his girth, and you found yourself truly connecting the dots as to why he was so insistent on stretching you out with his fingers and loosening you up with multiple orgasms.
Your back arching impossibly further up into him. His sweat-slick forehead pressed hard against yours. Noses bumping together as he set a punishing pace humping into you. His eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Groaning and whining about how good you felt around him. He was beating hard against your cervix. White-hot pain popped spots behind your eyes. Your body trying to adjust to the feeling of him buried so deep.
“Fuckin’ perfect. Takin’ me so good.”
His tone was stuck somewhere resembling a growl. Rumbling so low you swore you could feel it in in your chest. Teeth clenched. Huffing in sharp breaths as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly. All you could do was mewl and cry under him in response.
He reached his orgasm relatively quickly, burying impossibly deeper into you when he finally came. His face buried into the crook of your neck, teeth sunk into your collarbone. It irritated you that he didn’t think to ask if he should pull out. But that was yet another boundary he didn’t seem to care for. Like he knew there was no way you could deny him. Like he felt that same entitlement to any part of you that he wanted. And honestly- that thought rang dauntingly true.
He thrust lazily into you, riding out his high before collapsing down next to you. Still sporting that infuriatingly smug grin. Fucking glowing. Tugging you over into his big arms and wrapping them around you. Tucking you under his chin and suffocating you with his smell. Sex and whiskey and cologne and incense. You hated that it worked to calm your aching body and mind.
“Oughta keep you around.”
He mused, chuckling breathlessly over you.
You simply hummed your response. Sighing sharply and resigning to the fact that revealing yourself to him at all may have been a mistake. You were at his service indefinitely.
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lavared · 8 months
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(More details under the cut)
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[...]
"...You know, the usual? Turning into a gross spider, brooding in the shadows, doing your mother's dirty work, crawling back to the swamps so you can finally leave us alone???"
"And why, pray tell, should I do something else when I can watch you make a spectacle of yourself instead?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about this new embarrassing habit of yours. You've been spending an awful lot of time hiding behind the trees to ogle poor unsuspecting lasses."
"I'm-I'm NOT! First off, how long have you been spying on me, exactly? No, wait- I don't really want to know that. And second, I'm not doing anything, and I'm definitely NOT ogling. I'm just standing guard."
"(Scoffs) Oh, are you really? I didn't know standing guard involved all this blushing and heavy sighing. We might have done it wrong all this time, I see."
"(Sighs)...Listen, believe what you will. The Commander asked us to keep watch, so I suggest you do the same, preferably twenty or eighty feet away from me, alright? Thanks."
"As your dear Commander wishes. But I suggest you close your mouth while on...duty. We already have a dog, we don't need another slobbery creature in our fun little party."
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desertduality · 3 months
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NEW FIC :D
Ao3 link
Summary:
Scar can’t answer, too busy trying to control his breathing. It was Grian who had helped him build their home in the desert. It was Grian who had chosen to stay by his side, even after he didn’t have to anymore. It was Grian who had sat on the mountain with him, pointing out the stars and naming them.
It was Grian who had looked at him when they were the only two left, and had said there had to be a winner. It was Grian who had led him back to their mountain, hand in hand, and beat him to death in the shifting sands.
Grian remembered none of it.
OR,
The prize of the victor is to forget what they had to do to win. This causes problems for Scar, who has developed a fear of Grian and can’t bring himself to tell him why.
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jiminxoxo · 1 year
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seventeen and their love languages <3
(!!! put as a warning for swearing unless stated otherwise)
choi seungcheol - acts of service + physical touch
so so SO protective oh my god 😭 but his love for you is so pure. no matter how busy his schedule is, he always finds a way to incorporate you. he’ll either make it a point to let you know whenever he’s busy so you’re not waiting up for him or literally tells his manager to pull over when he’s near your house and sprint over to see you for two mere seconds. you say he’s a bit obsessed (of course in a playful way, but also, he really is obsessed) and he always tries to defend himself but eventually let’s himself take the fall. for one, he can never stay mad at you no matter how hard he tries and two, well, you’re you. how can he not be obsessed with you?
“what if i told you i was outside?” he sighs into the phone, kicking a nearby rock and trying his best to bundle himself in this cold cold weather.
“seungcheol?!” you half whisper yet practically exclaim. he’s so unbelievable, but why does it bring the warmest feeling to your cheeks? “what are you doing outside at this time? don’t you have practice right about now?” you place your phone down briefly to wish the leaving customer a good day, only to see your marshmallow of a boyfriend walk in. you make a mental note to thank your lucky stars that there’s no one else on the building.
he’s in his padded jacket with multiple layers underneath. you can barely see his face that’s hidden behind the mask, but the overdramatized outfit is enough for you to tell who it is. it wasn’t that cold out.
“can i get an iced americano?” he pulls the mask down and you chuckle. “and also maybe a date once you’re off work?”
you should be used to this by now. he’s the type of guy to surprise you any chance he gets. “a date?” you repeat, watching as his hand searches for yours from over the counter. he nods, tilting his head the side slightly as if asking you again.
“what do you have planned?” you ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. he grins, taking that as a yes.
“i just want to stay in with you today. we don’t have to do anything” he suggests.
you take a second to think, “then nothing it is”
“why is seungkwan cursing at you in the group chat?”
“oh my god, you distracted me” he panics, “i forgot to give him his iced americano”
“oh so this is my fault?”
“of course not honey, i love you”
yoon jeonghan - words of affirmation + quality time
jeonghan is such a delight. your love is so young and playful, never losing its fun. he also knows you alarmingly so well. you’re insecure? he’s right by your side and listing his favourite things about you (with an occasional embarrassing fact about himself here and there because he can’t seem to help himself when it comes to making you feel better). you’re annoyed because he pranked you again? he’s playfully looking at you and telling you that you shouldn’t be surprised anymore. you’re roasting him? he probably roasted you first LMAOOO. words of affirmation via soft roasts 👍 but i think no matter how often he may tease you or joke around, he’s never one to take it too far. he’s so respectful of your boundaries and makes it very clear that your feelings are what matter first to him. communication is so important to him (please don’t make me continue cus I’ll start to violently sob)
“they were totally flirting with you,” you mumble, tossing your keys on the counter. scratch that, more like slamming them. you couldn’t seem to help it though. not when your boyfriend couldn’t figure out why exactly you were upset.
“darling they weren’t flirting, they were just being friendly” he reasons after shrugging his jacket off, now fiddling with his watch. normally you’d help him take it off, but you’d rather watch him struggle to unclip it from across the room.
“friendly.” you scoff, finally caving in and helping him take off his stupid watch, actively trying to avoid eye contact with your stupid boyfriend who’s looking at you with a stupid smile—
“are you…. jealous?” he’s grinning.
you roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “no,”
“you totally are!” he’s practically beaming now. you were never one to get jealous. he figured it was because you trusted him, and you do. but in all honesty, he’s never given you a reason to be jealous. not until today. “you know i never would have even noticed right? i may have been talking to someone else, but you were on my mind the whole time. you have absolutely nothing to worry about, honey. i honestly didn’t even know you could even get jealous considering how loyal i am-“
“shut up,” you mutter, attempting to walk away but ultimately being pulled back to face him once again.
“make me.” he teases, holding up his pinky, “i promise i won’t tell anyone that you were jealous”
“you’re an idiot,” you say, stepping forward into his embrace, to which he happily sways the both of you side to side.
“you’re lucky i didn’t even realize they were flirting with me,” he starts waddling the both of you to the couch, “otherwise i would’ve accidentally exposed our relationship.”
“you totally wouldn’t have,”
“you’re right, i wouldn’t.” he laughs, “i’m saving that announcement for our marriage”
“jeonghan!”
!!! joshua hong - gift giving + quality time
sigh. he doesn’t call himself a gentleman for no reason. dating him is straight up like it’s from a movie. he’s attentive and just overall so respectful to not only you but to your relationship as well. he doesn’t even try to make your relationship seem so picture-perfect, it all just comes naturally. ofc there are gonna be bumps in the road but he’s always going to remind you that he’d rather fight and try to work it out with you than move onto somebody else. he thinks you’re worth every hardship. he allows himself to break down every barrier whenever you're around, just letting him be himself. is he perfect? no. will there be bumps in the road? probably lmao. but will he fight like hell to make sure you know that his heart belongs to you? damn straight.
“it’s rude to stare, you know,” you start, eyes not even leaving the magazine you were flipping through. you could feel his piercing gaze from a mile away.
his chuckle is heard from the other end of the bed as he ventures closer to you, your once comfy position is now maneuvered for the both of you to view the catalogue in your hands.
“staring? more like admiring.”
you roll your eyes, putting the magazine down briefly. his eyes are playful as they stare down at you, while you return his gaze with a really? that’s all you got?
“what? i can’t admire my fiancé?” he sighs while leaning closer to you, never letting himself get tired of that word. fiancé. it just has the best ring to it, especially knowing that you’re his and he’s yours.
“not when they’re trying to decide on something that will make or break the marriage,” you retort, pushing his face that was inching closer to yours away to view the catalogue once again.
“since when did the floral arrangements decide the course of our marriage?” he’s dumbstruck. leave it up to you to keep him on his toes.
“they don’t. i was just testing you to see if you actually cared about what i was looking at.” you’re laughing at the playful look of hurt on his face. “i’m kidding, you’re probably stressing over the flowers more than i am.”
“maybe,” he shrugs, slipping out of your warm embrace. he’s shuffling around the room for a bit, finally deciding to stand beside you with his hands hidden behind him, “or maybe what matters more to me right now is that you like these flowers?” he whips out a bouquet from behind him. how he even managed to sneak them into the room is beyond you.
“oh my god,” you breathe, “fuck the flowers at the reception, this is definitely more important right now.”
“you know, i think you’re the prettiest-“
“if you say i’m the prettiest flower josh, i swear to god the wedding is off.”
wen junhui - quality time + words of affirmation
i think it’s safe to say that I probably had the hardest time figuring out what sort of love language he is. not only is he the literal definition of the word love, but he also just has the purest of souls. this is your world and he is just living in it. the type of guy to raise a boombox over his head outside your window to confess his dying love to you... :( also probably kicks his legs back and forth while texting you or something LMAOOOOOO his favourite moment with you, you may ask? probably when he’s teaching you to dance one of their choreographies. you’re shy and definitely a bit clumsy but he can’t help but he absolutely enchanted by you (and in his words, ‘put hoshi to shame’) just loves the fact that you’re interested in something he loves. it doesn’t take much to make him happy to be honest, so you don’t even have to try. you being there makes him over the moon.
“its late,” you remind him, glancing at the clock on your microwave. “you should sleep now,” you’re on the phone with your boyfriend who’s just flown out of the country and back within the last 9 hours, never mind all the schedules inbetween. anyone would be exhausted.
he’s not complaining though, he never does. if anything, he’d rather stay on the phone with you than rest. “says the person who’s still up, trying to finish the thesis for class.”
you roll your eyes as you finish making your sandwich. he’s got a point, but you’d never admit that. “shut up,” you retort before taking a bite. once you finish putting the ingredients away, you head back to your room.
he’s smiling on the other side of the line, knowing fully well that you don’t have an argument against him. “are you almost done?” he asks, silently signalling a thank you to his manager who was willing to drive him over at this time. he exits the car and makes his way to the entrance of the building. the faster he gets to you, the faster he can convince you to shut your laptop off and head to bed.
he knows you’d never listen to him if he wasn’t physically there beside you. it was exasperating at first but overtime he came to realize that your thick skull actually made your relationship just that much stronger. after all, he drove over just to surprise you, didn’t he?
“almost,” you sigh, adjusting your glasses. “this thesis is a pain in the ass. it’s taken every living cell in my body to not curse my prof out. who assigns a gazillion word thesis and expects it to be done in a day and a half?”
he chuckles, exiting the elevator and heads straight to you apartment. “someone who clearly isn’t scared of your wrath. by the way, can you open the door?”
you halt your typing and stare at your phone placed beside your laptop. surely you didn’t hear him correctly… right?
“yes, i’m really here,” he doesn’t hear you as you hurriedly jump out of your chair, stumbling your way across your apartment. “and.. maybe im a bit tired. so i would really appreciate it if you open the d—“
you’re swinging the door open before he could finish his sentence, “you’re here,” you exhale, accepting him into your embrace.
“always. and i’m also taking you straight to bed. why are you looking at me like that? we’re going to sleep!”
!!! + brief mentioning of alcohol
kwon soonyoung - words of affirmation + gift giving
your very very personal hypeman!! always uplifting you whenever you’re feeling even just a teeny bit insecure. i see him as being a spontaneous gift giver. i mean, have you seen his wardrobe?? will spoil you rotten with the most lavish gifts. that being said, he didn’t get you these gifts for the materialistic aspect, but he just wants you to know that he (pardon me) fucking adores you and wants you to know he will go extreme measures to show you. i think he would have a hard time expressing the right words on how he actually feels about you. (you both can tell he feels a lot, it’s just the matter of how he would form it into words is what he can’t seem to do) but there's one thing for sure, this boy is a SIMP. he is a simp and will admit it to anyone proudly.
if someone were to ask you what the most memorable dates with him were, you’d simply answer with:
sneaking out to your backyard late at night and watching as his eyes glimmer with happiness while lighting the fireworks (and almost getting caught when your neighbour barges out his door, searching for the culprit)
surprising him at one of his tour stops
winding down for the night after a particularly hard day and basking in each others company (technically not a date but hey, it counts)
if he had to answer that same question, his answers would be:
dragging you to the zoo and — ding ding ding! — taking you to the tiger sanctuary
drunkenly singing love songs to each other at karaoke… in front of the rest of the boys
introducing you to said boys
unanimously, it’s decided that your first date is hard to beat in terms of favourites.
he isn’t sure why he had even thought of suggesting to go hiking for your first date but is equally as surprised when you had reluctantly agreed.
the first 40 minute hike up was filled with lots of curses in his direction, to which he blissfully ignores due to the fact that you were holding his hand. how can he pay attention when all of it is zeroed in on the fact that he's telling him brain to not get his hand clammy?
the hike down was unfortunately the problem though. after foolishly suggesting to race down the hill, (he can’t even defend himself at this point) you had agreed, only because you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. after a moment where you swore you were beating him, you didn’t see a tree branch on the ground and stepped down a bit funny resulting in even more cursing but for a completely different reason.
it was all a blur. him panicking, you clutching your ankle for dear life and him panicking even more after seeing how quickly it was starting to swell. after a quick visit to the ER and a pinky promise to never mention this date to anyone ever, he spent the remainder of the day piggybacking you around all the spots he had still planned for the date.
despite all that though, you had still decided to go on another date with him. hell, you had decided to be exclusive with him.
it was all oddly charming in a way, and you could have never asked for a better date.
hiking is still banned though.
jeon wonwoo - quality time + acts of service
type of lover who is simply there for you with no words needed. a comforting love that's filled with quiet hand holding and blushing as you gaze into each others eyes. he's patient, letting you let out your spur of the moment thoughts while he sits back and admires, constantly thinking to himself that he could never love and adore anyone as much as he does you. his inner extrovertedness definitely comes out when you're around - he allows himself to feel giddy like a teenage schoolgirl falling for her first crush. also, this is my personal opinion - he is very protective over you. if not, the most protective compared to the rest of the boys. 1. you’re his. 2. he doesn’t really like to share. 3. there is no three. sunshine (you) and sunshine protector (him) type beat (get it? because you're his sunshine)
the hype around the first snowfall of the year had always been a bit frivolous to you. as you walk down the rather busy road to head back to your warm apartment, you pass by dozens of couples who are buzzing at the unexpected flakes falling from the sky.
you sigh, thinking of your own lover who would’ve totally agreed with your comment. if someone’s love will last, it has nothing to do with a first snowfall… right?
wonwoo was set to come home in a couple of weeks. that you could tolerate, but the thought of him having to bundle up more than the average person in this specific weather once he’s gets home leaves a pang in your heart. before you know it, your fingers are navigating through your phone to a familiar contact.
you - it’s snowing back home… i hope it’s not too cold where you are
he’s not the best texter, but to your surprise, he replies to your message right away.
him - It’s snowing where I am too.
you let out a snort at his short yet blunt text. again, he’s not the best texter but he definitely tries his best.
pocketing your phone, you turn the last corner you need to, your apartment building now in sight. you figured calling him would be better, but you’d rather do that once you’re settled and comfortable at home.
until it dawned on you.
you - it’s snowing in jakarta right now?
he reads your message but doesn’t respond causing your heart to speed up in pace. there’s absolutely no way.
after practically sprinting to your door, you stop to catch your breath quickly in front of it. it’s okay. you’ll call him and confirm where he is. if he’s home - which you’re trying not to think about too much so you’re not too disappointed if he wasn’t - you’ll bus to where he was. or maybe you could uber?
“hey.” you hadn’t even noticed your door swinging open, revealing your boyfriend dressed in his padded jacket.
you gawk at him, pushing his shoulder with a shout, “i cannot believe you fooled me!”
“i told you we were busy this morning,” he laughs, grabbing your arm to pull you into his embrace.
“busy as in at the airport and on a plane?” he lets out another breathless laugh as you look at him in disbelief, “wait, where are you taking me?”
as you finish your last sentence, he’s already ushering you out a little further and closes the door behind him, leading you to the elevator. “its the first snow,” he says once you’ve finally made it outside. “i know what you’re thinking. the first snow isn’t an accurate representation of how long we’ll be in love, and i know we’ll be in love for a long time, snow or not. but i don’t care, i want to spend it with you.”
you’re not sure if it’s the sincerity of his voice that causes you to blush or the fact that he’s so confident in his feelings. there’s one thing you’re sure of though.
jeon wonwoo is the embodiment of the feeling people get when the first snow happens. an airy sort of feeling, excitement and.. love.
so yeah, it’s kind of hard not to love the first snowfall when wonwoo was with you.
lee jihoon - quality time + gift giving
😭😭😭!! jihoon is just so…… !!!!! definitely has a hard time expressing how he feels about you, but it’s so consuming that he has to let it out somehow. in my eyes, he’s a gift giver (and just lover in general) in the form of music. he’ll do small things like hum certain songs that remind him of you when you’re around to making playlists for your five hour road trip to literally writing a whole album about you (will he ever show it to you? maybe. will he literally spend many hours making it and creating the cover art because he’s just that passionate about your relationship? absolutely.) he gets a bit carried away but he can never seem to help it, he’s absolutely whipped for you, and when he’s in love he’s in LOVE
“one second, wait here” you say, jumping up from your comfy position in front of him and leaving him with a questioning look on his face. you seem a bit eager compared to your previous complaints about being exhausted.
to be fair, he never was one to like celebrating birthdays. he likes to keep the gathering as small as possible (but definitely doesn’t mind the presents). it’s more genuine that way he thinks, him surrounded by all the people he truly loves is something he much rather prefers.
it’s late into the night and probably past his birthday at this point, the two of you just returning from his birthday dinner that was held with some of his dear friends and family. he’s quiet- with a lingering smile playing on his lips- but happy.
after a couple minutes without you retuning, he lets out a small scoff. you’re definitely up to no good. “one second my ass” he chuckles to himself.
he’s about to get up from the bed, but is stopped when a soft light illuminates the room and he’s face to face with your bashful smile.
you’re there. standing in front of him with a cake that was probably made from scratch and softly singing him happy birthday. he can’t seem to bring out any words after you’re done. you’re peering at him and quietly telling him to make a wish, but what more does he need to wish for? he has everything he needs right in front of him. he hesitates for a second but complies, wishing for absolutely nothing to ever change.
he finally understands. he’s sang to you millions of times and you’ve never failed to remind him how much you love his voice. he thought you were just saying that to say it, but after listening to you sing with the softness and comfortability with just the two of you there, he could listen to you sing for hours.
“happy birth- I just realized what time it is. I didn’t really think this through did i? whatever. happy birthday jihoon, I love you” you’re both laughing, love just radiating off one another. this is the best birthday he could’ve ever asked for.
lee seokmin - literally all 5
first off i want to apologize to all the seokmin stans out there because i just know you want to beat me up through the internet right now. he’s just!!! so!!!! lovely!!!! just a ☀️💗💖 type of person. he himself confirmed words of affirmation (surprise surprise) but who is he kidding??? that man is the literal embodiment of all the love languages. he’s always reminding you how loveable you are, especially in the moments where your insecurities are getting the best of you. he will show you love in its purest form, and will never ever let you forget that you mean the world to him.
you can feel his eyes on you as you comfortably sit beside him, placing your legs over his. “so i was thinking,” he starts, tapping his finger on his chin.
oh no. nothing good ever happens when he starts with that. “yes?” you hum, tearing your gaze away from the tv to focus all your attention on him.
“i know you’ve met the members before, but do you think, maybe, i can meet your friends and family and you can meet mine?” he stumbles over a few words and starts playing with your hands to busy himself. “i love you. and honestly, i just want all the important people in my life to meet you and adore you as much as i do.” he pauses before letting out a chuckle, “well, maybe a bit less, because i adore you the most.”
you’re quiet. it’s not that you don’t want him to meet your loved ones because god, of course you do, but how are you supposed to explain that you want to keep him in this little bubble?
this bubble of love and joy. you know it’s selfish, wanting to hide him away from the world and just let the two of you be the two of you. without the judgement of anyone else. dokyeom is a very understanding person and has never once judged you. so why is this so hard to admit to him?
his eyes are patient as they gaze at you. he’s trying to read the expression on your face but it doesn’t seem to work, “of course, if this is something you’re not comfortable with, we can always reintroduce it down the road,”
you shake your head, removing your hand from his to hold his cheek. his eyes close as he leans into your touch. “i’d love to meet your friends and family, seok,” you whisper, connecting your foreheads together, “i was scared at first because i don’t like the thought of people having their assumptions about our relationship but i can see this is really important to you,” you pull back to look at him. he who is looking at you like you could rearrange the stars in the sky. “and i just realized that the only opinion i should care about is ours.”
“you know what? let’s just stay like this for a bit,” his eyes are understanding as he inches a bit closer to you, almost as if he can’t seem to help it, “i want to keep you to myself for a little longer. just you and me.”
“are you sure?” you ask only because his conclusion is so vastly different from his initial proposal. “we’ve been dating for the last couple months and my friends have definitely been nagging at me to meet my boyfriend that I keep talking about”
“i’m sure.” he seals it with a peck to your lips, “besides, your comfortability is what matters most to me. if your friends love you, they’ll understand,” he says, “but they better not love you more than I do…”
kim mingyu - physical touch + words of affirmation (confirmed) + acts of service (confirmed)
two words. puppy. love. he’s just….. so down bad for you, need i say more? if you give him a piece of your heart, he will give you the world type of relationship. with mingyu, there is never a dull moment. constantly laughing with each other and allowing your inner child to heal with him in your presence. is a simp and is PROUD about it... but also tries to deny it? its funny, because everyone knows damn well what kind of lover he is. super sweet, super affectionate, maybe a little immature... you know it, he knows it, his members sure as hell knows it. but the second they try to tease him, he's denying all their allegations. he doesn't really want them knowing that you're his soft spot in human form - after all, they'd just use it to their advantage - but from the way he glances so dotingly at you, is he really fooling anyone?
“is that my hoodie?” he’s grinning as he widens the door just a smidge to lean against the doorframe.
you know he’s getting a kick out of this and you let him have his moment before adding, “gyu, you asked me to wear it,”
he shushes you while taking your arm to guide you in and shutting the door behind you. “thanks for coming,” he softly says and watches as you cross the room to sit on the couch.
again, you let him have his moment before turning to face him with an exasperated look, “well, i figured it was the least i could do after you texted ‘SOS’ to me about a hundred times,”
he lets out a hearty laugh as he sits beside you, completely unashamed of his tactics to get you here. “in all seriousness though,” he rises, presenting his hand in front of your face for you to grab, “i made a new dish to try and i want to know what you think.”
once you join your hands together, he drags the both of you to the kitchen, letting you take a seat while he places the finishing touches to your dish.
he’s watching you as you eat, eyes shining while you continuously compliment him on his culinary skills across the table. getting up, he ditches his food — not that he had even touched his plate in the first place — and ventured around the table, dragging a chair a bit closer in your direction just to plop beside you. he places his arm on the table and rests his chin on his hand, “tell me more,” he quietly murmurs, lifting his free hand to softly brush some hair away from your face.
you gently place your fork down on your plate and grab a tissue to dab your mouth. finding your actions oddly adorable, he moves to wrap his hand around the arm of your chair just to draw you closer. “well,” you start, “you know i love your cooking. you’re so talented, gyu. i don't know how you managed to get these ingredients that are amazing on their own and made them into something special together.”
he beams at your comment. “i think you just described us perfectly,”
you tilt your head, just a little confused on what he meant.
grabbing your hand, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm before lifting it to his cheek just for him to lean on. he closes his eyes, savouring this moment before adding, “great on their own. something special when together.”
-
"can i be the truffle or something?"
"eh, you're more of a raw onion if i had to choose- ow!"
xu minghao - quality time + gift giving (confirmed) + acts of service (confirmed)
don’t even let me get started on this man. he is 100% written by a woman, i cannot stress this enough. the amount of love he would hold for you is ridiculous - there are tears streaming down my cheeks as i write this btw. so in tune with his emotions and probably so attentive to yours as well. i know the words of affirmation and acts of service are confirmed (💔) but i personally feel so strongly about the quality time part. many of your nights consist of just basking in each others presence and just straight serenity. i can’t express into words on how magical your relationship would feel. xu minghao has the most beautiful heart and yours is definitely safe with him.
“do you ever feel like,” you pause as he tilts his head down ever so slightly to gaze softly at you, “i don’t know, that you’re so burnt out and there’s nothing that can help you?”
you’re both laying down in bed with your limbs tangled under the sheets. between both your schedules, it’s near impossible to have moments like these. domestic moments that you’ve come to miss even while he’s beside you right now. it’s the crack of dawn and you’ve only been together like this for mere minutes, it’s never long enough though.
he nods before squeezing you lightly against him. “all the time.” he sighs, “especially when i know that i’m unable to see you for a while,”
“me too,” you agree. your relationship is anything but needy. you both appreciate your independence, but it’d also be a big fat lie if you said being apart from him was a nice feeling. over the years, the two of you had found your ways to make it work, but the longing is always there whenever you’re apart. “when do you have to go?” you ask, leaning over to take a look at the clock behind you.
“did you really have to remind me that our time together right now is super limited?” he teases, softly pulling you back into his embrace.
“when is it not?” you say with a chuckle. you’re only joking and he knows that, but he can’t help but feel guilty as he analyzes you. your mood had definitely gone down just a bit after a moment of silence.
“do you think they’d believe me if i called in sick?” he’s poking at your side to hopefully lighten up the mood. when his attempt is successful and he sees your smile, he mentally gives himself a pat on the back.
“cheol would have your head if you’re late to practice,”
“if i were late to practice, it’s not seungcheol who i would be scared of to be honest..”
you hum while tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “hoshi,” you both say in unison before letting out hushed laughter.
as you settle down, he brushes some hair away from your face, his expression morphing into something more sincere. “thank you for always begging patient with me and my schedule. i feel like i would’ve given up a long time ago if you weren’t around.”
“good thing i’m staying then,” you hum before adding, “watching you do what you love makes me insanely proud. i don’t care about your schedule, even if it allows us only twenty minutes every four days.”
“speak for yourself-“ he’s interrupted when his phone obnoxiously blasts his alarm tone, indicating that your time together is now up. to your surprise, he gets up only to snooze it and goes to lay back down beside you, closing his eyes for a bit.
feeling your questioning gaze on him, he peeks an eye open to look at you and decides to hide himself in the crook of your neck, “hoshi wouldn’t believe me if i said i was sick,” his voice is muffled, but you can hear the mischief in it, “but he’d believe me if i said i slept in.”
boo seungkwan - words of affirmation + gift giving
omfg. this man. not only is he your best friend, but he’s your personal hype man who is somehow still so shy at telling you how much you mean to him. definitely an old couple type of love with your fair share of old couple bantering. i think it’s quite adorable. man,,,,, HES adorable 😭😭😭 the type of gift giver where he can think of the most obscene reason on why you have to have it. a random bottle opener? pretty sure yours broke seven months ago. a backpack? this one has a tangerine charm on it!!! definitely gets defensive when you tell him to save his money and yet throws the biggest fit when you get him something nice in return. prepare to lose every playful argument the two of you have, that unless, he lets you win (never admitting the fact that he is so down bad that he’d do anything to see you with that winning smile)
seungkwan definitely likes to catch you by surprise, especially after his visits to his hometown.
he’s unloading his suitcase in your shared bedroom having just returned from his trip back home for the weekend. the glow on his cheeks is something truly special, and you have the pleasure of seeing it while he raves of his time back in jeju.
“so my mom made me haul this large bag of tangerines over to you.” he says, a little disapprovingly at that. the more you think about it, the more that you think the act of gift giving may run in his family. “wanna share?”
you scoff, snatching the bag he was holding to hide behind your back. “you’ve had enough tangerines in your lifetime. this bag is mine.”
eyes wide, he points an accusing finger in your direction. “you wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for me!”
sticking out a finger of your own, you start running before he could catch you, knowing how riled up he could get. your attempt to run is sadly not fast enough since he’s already latched onto you and poking jabs at your most ticklish spots. he can’t help but laugh along, drinking up the noises bubbling out of your chest.
-
“thank you for the bag of tangerines. seungkwan said you made him haul a huge bag just for me.” you say to his mom over the video call, watching as her warm smile morphs into a knowing one.
“honey, i may have gotten him to bring them to you, but it was all him.”
you blink, turning your face to look at his sleeping figure. tomorrow would be back to reality for him. you had suggested that him sleeping early tonight would be best since it wasn’t necessarily something he had the luxury of doing everyday. he put up a fight at first; insisting that he wanted to spend more time with you, but it’s not even ten minutes later when you see him snoozing away after you had slipped out of the room to fetch him some tea.
“all him?” you repeat.
“the day he was set to leave, he woke up extra early to beat everyone to the market. he’ll deny it if you ask, but i know he went to pick the best ones for you. i may have suggested for him to bring a couple, but he insisted on filling a large bag since they’re your favourite.”
you blink again, not expecting the sudden confession.
“he loves you, you know.” she softly adds, watching you through the screen as you tenderly gaze at her son. “there wasn’t one day where he didn’t talk about you.”
what she doesn’t know, is that you watch as a light blush dust his cheeks. stroking his hair, you glance back to the screen, knowing seungkwan would’ve been too shy to say anything if he were awake so you let him believe the thought of you thinking he was still asleep.
you’re proven wrong when his hand gently grabs yours, giving it a tight squeeze. an action that is worth a thousand words.
!!! vernon chwe - quality time + words of affirmation
being in a relationship with this man is probably the most secure relationship you will ever be in, no if ands or buts. not only is he literally just the chillest mf to ever live, he also enjoys life to the fullest. activities with him could literally vary by the hour depending on his mood. vernon is always reminding you to be grateful for what you have, (cue him constantly telling you how thankful he is for you and how you mean so much to him). the two of you would absolutely have a best friend sort of relationship, and he just adores it.
there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as he drives you home from the small gathering you both attended. he’s softly humming, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel every so often and you— well, you’re watching him. not in a hey-i’m-a-creeper way but more of a hey-i’m-actually-so-whipped-for-you sort of way.
his eyes are glued to the road but he knows. he has to know. you’re just sitting there blatantly staring at him but he makes no sign of uneasiness. in fact, he reaches blindly for your hand after a bit, using your intertwined hands to drum the middle console.
he’s cranking up the volume with a lopsided smile the second he hears your laughter, just in love with the fact that it’s so easy to make you happy. having nothing but the smallest clue that what really is making you happy are these little moments with him.
“really?” you’re snickering as soon as the next song plays. “baby by justin bieber?”
“yeah, really.” he glances at you for a second before returning them back on the road, his hand giving yours a light squeeze. “what, it’s not in your love songs playlist?”
“isn’t this song about his partner not loving him back?” you’re now on your phone, analyzing the lyrics that are indeed about his broken heart.
vernon on the other side is left speechless. how is he supposed to move on from the fact that his number one love song is actually not a love song? he’s probably sang it hundreds of times and half the time, you were there right beside him singing with him. his best memories lie with this song.
what the hell is he supposed to do now?
“don’t worry baby,” of course you call him that at a time like this. “we can still sing this at karaoke to each other while your voice cracks every so often”
“hey!” he lets go of your hand to point a playful finger at you, “i’ll have you know, i was singing an adlib that was out of my vocal range and my voice has only cracked once.”
you roll your eyes, not even attempting to fight back with him. in the years the two of you have been dating, by now you know better than to get him heated over (arguably) the greatest hit of the early 21st century.
“it’s okay,” he says after another short minute of silence, listening as the song rolls to an end and grabbing your hand once again, “we’re nothing like this song, right?”
you grin, “not even in the slightest.”
thank god.
lee chan - physical touch + acts of service (confirmed)
literal definition of young love. this man no doubt will always keep you smiling and laughing (like literally his first instinct when he sees that you’re upset is to make you smile, he can’t bear it when you’re sad). it’s also the way he says his love language is writing???? yup you’ll never hear from me again lmao. its refreshing to think that he would most definitely try to win you over using old-school tactics. walking to your door on your first date and meeting your parents briefly (who by the way, probably love him more than you do). chan is definitely a person with soooo much love to give and never EVER let’s you forget that it’s all yours to have. </3
it’s official, you hate your home. okay, maaaaybe that’s a small stretch..
you hate that your home is thousands of miles from your boyfriend.
after returning home from the tear filled car ride from the airport, you trudge your way across your apartment, not even bothering to clean up the mess that was left behind a couple hours prior. it’s where you and chan had made your last breakfast for a while together, and the thought of it made a new wave of tears fill your eyes.
as you head to your room, you find yourself catching small glimpses of your boyfriend and the mere memories he left here. how is it fair that he managed to squeeze his way into your heart and is able to take a little bits and pieces every time you’re apart? cheesy, you think, but true.
after reaching your room, you notice an envelope on top of your neatly made bed. it’s weird, because you definitely recall not having the time to make your bed this morning… oh chan. you let out a shaky sigh and pick it up, mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.
Hi my bunny, I hope you’re doing okay.
By the time you see this, I’m probably boarding my flight. This never gets easier, does it? I miss you already.
In the two years that we’ve been together, I’ve felt nothing but happiness but also have never experienced such heartbreak. I hate seeing you cry and I hate missing you. But most of all, I hate the distance. No matter how hard it gets, loving you is the easiest thing about all of this and loving you is worth it.
We’ll be together again sometime soon and I hope the thought of that is enough for you to keep going because it definitely is for me. I can’t wait for the day where we don’t have to worry about the stupid distance anymore, where we can just love each other and not think about anything else.
You’re my favourite person and the absolute light of my life. I can’t wait to have you in my arms again.
I love you I love you I love you.
Yours, Chan
damn it, you wipe your tears messily and hug the letter close to your heart, allowing yourself to let out a small sob. maybe you don’t hate your home after all. in fact, you love your home. he’s your home.
2K notes · View notes
timidpumpkin · 1 year
Note
Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️
You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙
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(pictures are not my own)
More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)
Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader
Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.
Word count: 4.2k
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It hurts.
“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 
“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 
Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 
It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.
You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.
Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.
“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.
“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 
Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 
“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 
“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.
As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.
“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.
Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.
“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.
“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.
Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 
“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.
Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.
“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.
“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.
Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.
“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  
“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 
“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.
Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.
“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 
“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.
“But-”
“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.
“But daddy-”
“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.
“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.
“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 
Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 
“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.
“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 
“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”
“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.
Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.
“and quit with the attitude.” 
“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.
You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 
Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 
You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 
After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…
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“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.
“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 
Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 
Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 
Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 
He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 
“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 
“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 
“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 
You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 
“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.
Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.
“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 
“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.
“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.
“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.
He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 
Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 
“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 
Bucky’s face falls. 
All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.
“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 
“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.
“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 
“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.
“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.
“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 
When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 
“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.
“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”
“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 
“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 
“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.
“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 
It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 
Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.
After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 
The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.
“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.
“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.
“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.
“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.
“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’
For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 
You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 
“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 
Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 
“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”
You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 
“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.
“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 
Daddy’s crazy, you think.
“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  
“Daddy,” you giggle at him.
“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 
“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 
Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 
“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 
“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 
You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.
When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 
Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 
Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.
“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 
“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.
“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 
Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 
Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.
Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 
“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 
“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.
“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 
Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 
Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 
“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 
“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl
He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 
“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 
“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”
“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.
“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 
“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.
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suchawrathfullamb · 2 months
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One thing I don't get is how can some fans see and write Hannibal as protective or caring of Will? He never cared about Will's safety, he has done so much damage to Will's body, it's out of character that he'd suddenly care...I don't know, I just feel like it's wishful thinking of shippers. I ship them too but I'm not delusional about Hannibal...He would still hurt Will in season 4 and I hate when fics write him as if he gives a fuck about Will's well being.
Oh wow. Okay.
Hannibal has known pain in a way most people around him have not. He has known cold, hunger, loss, abandonment, violence and death and god knows what else. All of this before his rational mind was fully developed, which essentially means his mind was shaped through those experiences. That's what it's ingrained in him, regardless of anything else, even the luxurious and opulent life he built for himself years later.
"God" throws his seeds in the air, violently, and they scatter everywhere. Some fall on fertile soil, and grow to become beautiful, strong trees. Some fall on rocky ground and don't yield any fruits. And some fall on thorns, and those thorns choke them. God is ruthless and careless, but not all of his seeds become the byproduct of his violence. But some do. That's just the way it is.
So the first part of this answer is not an attempt to justify Hannibal's behavior, but simply put it into context. No, he didn't have to punish the world for his own suffering. But he chose to do so. Well, I personally don't believe it's a choice, per se, but more of an illusion of choice. People tend to think they are always choosing how to act, but digging into human psyche, you'd find that no, you never had a choice. Free will is an illusion. The reasons behind your behavior go way back, to places you cannot reach. But that's besides the point.
So, again, don't take this as a justification. Hannibal is what he is, and does what he does.
Hannibal found himself at the mercy of a merciless, careless, amoral God, in his formative years. And so he mirrored that God, "can't beat them, join them" sort of deal. If God is careless, so will he be, if God is amoral, then so will he be. If He gives and takes as he pleases, then so will him. If he delights in bloodshed, then so will him. He won't try to please God, he will please himself. He won't worship God, he will worship pleasure, because it is the antithesis of what he feels. We worship that which we desire to experience, or that which we perceive as the opposite of what we're trying to escape from, the remedy for our specific wound. if you fear death, worship him, the one who conquered it and rose victorious above it. Or if you fear your own desires, the same one offers you to be cleanse of those things you perceive as shameful. Whatever you fear, there's a God for you.
And Hannibal's God, at least for most of his life, would become the big P's: Pleasure and Power. It's only a little funny that in order to experience one, you need to let go of the other, at least to some degree.
Hannibal is so afraid of the pain and vulnerability he felt, having perceived it as lethal, that he learned how to remain in absolute control of himself and his environment. He was, in his mind, unaffected by God. You can't hurt him, because he does not expect You not to. In fact, he expects the worst out of You.
He collects church collapses to remind himself that God does not care, since He is destroying his dedicated worshippers. To remind himself of how little his own destructions matter, how small they are, compared to God's.
So, play a little Will Graham here and see through his mind. Walk in his shoe and see. If you do so, you'll never think that him caring about Will is out of character because he hurts him.
Will did something to Hannibal that only God was able to. He made him vulnerable, made him feel out of control. Not even his sister was able to fully accomplish that. Hannibal loved Mischa, but he ate her to prove to himself (and to God), that he was beyond love. That even if he loved, he was still stronger than that feeling. That it wouldn't overpower him. Our NBC Hannibal didn't eat Mischa because he had to. He ate her to forgive her, for making him love her. "I forgive you for being so lovely, and now I will consume you to dominate this weakness". He wasn't able to do that to Will, and he wasn't going to. Bryan Fuller has confirmed he wasn't going to go through with it in the head sawing scene. No matter how hard he tries, Will always conquers him.
Imagine what this must feel like for Hannibal. He had the will to eat his sister. God took her away from him, violently, and he was still capable of defying Him by willingly consuming her, "you do what you will, but I'm still stronger, you are not capable of destroying me, look what I can do with the pain you give me". It's as if Hannibal sees God as a ruthless father who keeps testing him, over and over again. Beating him in the face, repeatedly, and all he needs to do is take it, bloody and smiling, as if he's enjoying it, as if God's intention of causing pain is futile. Does that evoke a certain scene from the show in your memory?
Hannibal finds some people slightly interesting, some disposable, some inconvenient, and most boring. He sees them as weak, mostly. They haven't endured what he has, they complain about things that are frivolous to him, they care about things that don't matter to him, and mostly, they would never relate to him, to his view of life. They'd be scared, or disgusted by him. He knows he's a monster in most people's perspective. Does he see himself as a monster? He tries not to. He looks at his church collapses whenever he feels this thought creeping inside his head. Yes, of course he sees himself as a monster. But he works very hard to argue against that...After all, God is so much worse.
Arrogance is not a an actual belief of superiority. It's just a mask for a deep feeling of inadequacy. It's an overcompensation. He has learned, from the way he was raised, and the type of people around him, that politeness and etiquette are signs of dominance, and most importantly, the opposite of what most tend to consider ugliness and brutality. Someone harmed him very gently. A nice and friendly person. No one believed him. And so, he learned the best character to play was this exact one.
I could be wrong, this isn't canon, it's just the most obvious explanation. But regardless if Hannibal is the way he is independently of the trauma, as Mads stated, that doesn't mean he didn't adapt, evolve, become. I already established that I do not think he is the way he is because of his trauma, I'm still going along with canon. But I see him as just one of God's little seeds that didn't fall on good soil. But he's still a human being, regardless if he's the incarnation of Satan, he's still incarnated, literally meaning born in flesh. He still has a linear story, a way of becoming, of flourishing (or withering) in a manner that his thorns could rise from his skin and harm others, even if they were there all along.
Punishing "the rude" is a way of justifying his own motives. Can't kill other killers, that would be hypocritical of him, he's not trying to be a vigilante, he's beyond that. Can't kill people who remind him of those who harmed in the past, that would be vindictive of him, therefore a display of weakness, as if he's still affected by them. So? Kill whoever is rude, disrespectful, unrefined out of pettiness. It's petulant and it is flippant (in most cases, that homophobic medical consultant may or may not had it coming, I didn't say it, you did), but it's the only reason he found. Other killers may kill because they can, because whatever. Hannibal needed to justify it to himself, in a way that still put him in a position of power. Again, vengeance or vigilance is too affective to his liking. He doesn't like playing good or bad. He just likes playing.
Here comes Will Graham with his rude, dismissive, agitated, grumpy and messy behavior. He's arrogant, he's childish, he lacks control of himself, yet everyone sees him as innocent, pure, genuine. What a punch to the stomach. Hannibal has to try so hard to be seen as innocent. And there goes this mongoose, acting all crazy and everybody treats him like an injured puppy. But he's just like Hannibal, he has thorns peaking out of his back, forcing their way out. And he's still able to be perceived as innocent? Oh no. Not on Hannibal's watch. So he turns people against him.
Hannibal's very aware of how Will affects people around him. He knew Alana liked him, he even told Will in the first episode, in the breakfast scene, but they cut the line out. He wanted to know if Will liked her back, but was dismissed. He tells him how Jack sees him as fragile, tells Alana they have Will dressed in moral dignity, pants, "nothing is his fault". He's very aware of how Will is able to evoke this type of unconditional compassion.
But then it affects him.
He wasn't expecting it, he was surely not prepared for it. All he knew was to hurt. Eat him like he did his sister. Hannibal realized his feelings were deepening in the opera episode, the singer who played that part (of the opera singer) said she chose the aria specifically for this, because it was like Hannibal was realizing he had a heart. He cried. Later on, Will told him he kissed Alana and that his connection to the killer, Tobias, was getting stronger ("it's our song"). This affects Hannibal in a way that disturbs him, and so he acts impulsively and sends Will to Tobias. "I do not care about him, see?". Denial.
What a shocker when he has to face the truth that he does, in fact, care. He looks defeated, and submissive in that scene ("I was worried you were dead"), even their physical positions mirrors that...But, "I got here on my own", he insists on remarking, after Will says he feels like he dragged Hannibal into his world. No. You didn't. I am here because I chose to be. I am still in control.
After that, he cannot lie to himself any longer, he knew what he felt when he thought he had lost Will. And so, it only got worse from that point on. Now, he was aware of his feelings and actively fighting them. All of his actions were an attempt to eradicate Will, as a way to eradicate his feelings towards him, to prove to himself that he can still overpower his feelings, "see? I can still do what I want with you, my feelings for you do not stop me". And Will rejects him for the first time, in that kitchen. And he still loves him. How infuriating. So he decides, "No, I will not jeopardize my own freedom for you." Anger.
When he saw Will in prison for the first time, you could almost see the exhilaration in his eyes. To cage the one who controls you, how divine of a feeling. He is elated. At first.
It seems that it takes Hannibal a few shocks to realize that he does care, a lot, about Will. And so he realizes that, once more. And needs to deal with it...Again. Meanwhile his inner world is spinning out of control, it is becoming a grand, beautiful mess, and he cannot stop himself, even though he is trying very hard to.
Bedelia brings him to awareness by telling him he's obsessed. "I'm intrigued", he tries, mostly to himself. Obsessed? Him? No, it can't be. Nobody is capable of doing this to him. Obsession indicates a lack of control, the incapacity to take one's mind off of a subject. Just imagine the war he was battling inside himself.
When Will tries to kill him (by proxy) he is as satisfied as he is hurt. Satisfied because he was right, Will is a killer. Hurt because he did almost die. The night he lets Alana kiss him and decides to engage with her, it's the night Jack made it clear Hannibal was a suspect. He felt alone without Will, and Alana made him feel less alone, "walking away what does that leaves us with?", he asks, "each other", she says. He does appreciate her, even if she doesn't truly see him and when she eventually does, she's afraid, she's still better than nothing, and convenient for his alibi. But it's more than that. This is the woman who had (has) feelings for Will, and those feelings seemed to be reciprocated, at least to some extent and at some point. Having her is like conquering Will in a petty way. "She rejected you. You rejected me. Now we're together", it says.
But he still sees potential in Will, in their union, and he still cannot deal with the ache of being without him. And so he finds a way to get him back, let his bird out of the cage, unbound, even if it means danger. He's so lost in his feelings that he allows himself to be deluded, to believe, to open himself up. And even after realizing the betrayal, he still couldn't let go, and offered his carefully crafted life, up, "we could disappear tonight". And when Will says "you were supposed to leave", he doesn't interpret it as protection, he hears it as rejection. Again. He did the same thing to Hobbs, not because he cared, but because he wanted to. He doesn't think Will did that because he cares, at most, he thinks he did because he felt guilty for lying. But mostly, this is Will rejecting him again. He is devastatingly hurt, and Will stands like God, so cold, so cruel. But at least you have a body, so I'll hurt your body, since I can't hurt your feelings, apparently. "You think you can change me?", denial, "I already did," the truth, spitting on his face. So he ends Abigail, because to Hannibal, Will cared about her, he protected her, he had compassion for her. But not him, so she will be Will's pain. "No, you haven't changed me. See? I'm still the monster". The monster he tries to convince himself he isn't, the monster he tried to show Will he wasn't, but Will didn't want that gift. That burden, that curse. But he'll call it a gift, to make himself feel better. After all, he's so much better than everyone else and seeing him in all his truth is such an honor...Isn't it?
He knows Will is right, even if he kills Abigail to prove a point, in his mind, he knows he's right (the script says so). So really, there is no point in denying anymore. But can still move on, overcompensating for the dark, endless pit in his soul, with opulence and a smile. Until Will comes to him, and once again, he cannot handle himself, and he's at it again, acting completely reckless and out of control.
"I forgive you", hope. Then Will tries to kill/harm him. And he's so done. With everything. Everything. How many times will Will Graham shake him out of his center, ruin his sense of self, spin him out of control, play him, hurt him? Leave him? No more, that's how many. He's done. He's ending it. And he knows he won't live without him. He's so deranged in that scene, so...Out of it, almost uncharacteristically insane. Consuming his God, finally. "I'll do this, so the pain will stop," he bargains.
Then, he would most likely end himself indirectly after that. After all, "suicide is the enemy", but letting himself get caught after a lifetime of expertly evading it, isn't the same now, is it? Of course not. Surrendering to the authorities even though you are certain you'll get the death penalty isn't the same as suicide, of course not. Refuting your insanity plea that saved you from getting the death penalty also isn't suicide, of course not. Not at all. Neither is allowing God to throw you off the cliff, even though you made it very clear that you were aware of His intentions.
Hannibal Lecter loves Will Graham to the point of insanity. He hurts him out of insanity, out of the inability to surrender to his love. When he finally does, he regrets what he did to Will. He's so insanely filled with regret he tries to reverse time. He's acting maniacally, and then he's rejected again. And just...Gives up. Accepts it. "He knew Will would come back, it was just another manipulation"...He gave up his freedom and risked his life just to be petty? Sure. You tell yourself that cause it's exactly what he'd rather you believe in.
At the end, he looks at a weapon and considers hurting Will, but he can't. He knows Dolarhyde is watching. Knows where he is. Will tells him he doesn't think he can save himself, and maybe that's okay. Hannibal clocks him right there, and his compassion for Will is inconvenient as he steps in front of him and takes the bullet. It's inconvenient when he allows Will to pull them off the cliff just to be able to hold him, even if it's for first and last time, because he'd rather die than live without him.
After all, how do you leave without your God once you've been graced by His glory?
So no. I don't this logic makes sense, anon. You're interpreting Hannibal as a person who follows one logic, when he in fact, "follows several trains of thought at once without distraction from any". And one of the trains is love.
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mrzombielover · 20 days
Text
- slow ride ch2
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feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader
previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)
warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues
a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!
wc: 2.9k
“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”
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Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?
You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.
After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.
“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.
“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.
“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.
You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.
“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.
“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.
After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.
But then it happens a second time.
“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”
“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”
“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”
“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”
You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-
“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.
“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.
“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.
You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?
Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-
“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.
“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”
“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“
“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.
“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.
“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.
“Oh my god I so know her,”
Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.
“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”
That makes Adam sweat.
You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.
“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“
“Husk holy shit!”
Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.
“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”
You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.
“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.
“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.
“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.
Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.
As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.
Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.
“Yo, where are you right now?”
Of course.
“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.
“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”
You pause. He sounds slightly odd.
“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”
Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.
“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.
Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.
You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?
By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.
He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.
“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.
“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”
And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.
And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.
The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.
On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.
“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.
“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.
You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.
“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.
“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.
“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.
Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.
You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.
To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.
Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.
He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.
“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.
“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.
“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.
You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.
“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.
“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.
“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.
A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.
You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.
Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.
Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.
Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.
Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.
He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.
“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”
“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”
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In my opinion
There is no denying that House loves Cuddy. It's obvious, everybody knows it, there's no debate. Cuddy also loves House, again, obvious, no debate. But the way that Cuddy loves House is not the same as the way that Wilson does.
Cuddy acknowledges Houses issues, and she loves him in spite of them. She sees the worst parts of him, the "undesirable" parts of House, and she chooses to look beyond them. She sees the man that he is aside from those things, and she makes the conscious choice to coexist with those parts of him in exchange for being together with the parts that she loves. An example would be House's jealousy. She acknowledges that he can be extremely jealous, and she agrees to look past it because he's also very loving and protective. That's why when House continues to make mistakes, she becomes more and more disappointed. Because she sees a man who she believes could do better, falling back into his "old ways." She will try to convince herself that it's not a surprise when he does "bad" things, and she tries to convince herself that she doesn't need him to change, but the truth is that she does. Cuddy is a mother. She is a very mature, professional woman, and she wants to settle down. House, as he exists in the show, would not be able to live up to par with those expectations. I'm not saying he couldn't be a great dad to Rachel, or that he wouldn't love Cuddy, but he would realistically would not be able to act the way she needs and deserves for the rest of their lives. And when he does inevitably do something destructive, she will struggle to deal with it. Because she sees House as someone split down two sides, the "good" side, and the "bad" side, and she will expect him to focus on the "good" side, so when House does something wrong, it will feel like a personal attack, because she will see it as him not fighting hard enough to not give in to his "bad" side for her. And that's not to say anything bad about Cuddy, because the fact that she needs somebody who is the type of person that House just can not realistically be is neither of their faults. But I believe that House fully understands all of this. He is crumbling under the pressure of living up to Cuddy's expectations. He is constantly trying to fight his "bad" side so that he can be what she needs. But in reality, he is not two separate parts. There is no "good" and "bad" House. They are one in the same. With her, he has to fight to be what she needs. He has to fight to change. So when stressful things happen, his fight or flight response kicks in, and he runs. Because he's scared. He's scared that he is going to do something that will disappoint her. He is scared he won't live up to her expectations. With Cuddy, he has to sacrifice parts of himself to attempt to be who she needs. And it's just not sustainable. You can't live like that forever. All the good becomes overshadowed by constant anxiety and stress. It leads to House's mental health plummeting because he starts to hate himself for not being able to get rid of that "bad side." And so when Cuddy needs him during stressful times, he can't bring himself to be there for her fully, because he is so focused on the "good" side of him coming out, that he starts to lose himself.
With Wilson, however, it is basically the exact opposite. Wilson doesn't see two different sides of House. He sees one person who is incredibly multifaceted. He recognizes those "undesirable" parts of House, and he loves them just the same as he loves the "good" parts. Because he sees no divide. When House does things that are hurtful, he still calls him out, but he doesn't see it as a personal failure. He sees it as just a part of House. Like yeah, he'll insult your fatal illness, but he'll shoot some random guy with a spud gun for insulting you. Where as Cuddy would see those as two separate, distinct sides, Wilson sees those as a conjoined whole. He doesn't love House in spite of his issues. He loves House because of his issues. Because House's struggles are a part of what makes House who he is. So Wilson can fight with him and be mad at him and hurt him, but he doesn't expect House to throw away or "overcome" parts of himself. He would love for House to give up drugs, but he doesn't expect House to give up his addictive tendencies. There's a balance, and it's all an equal part of House. And so because of this, when House and Wilson are put in stressful situations, House doesn't feel like he has to run. He feels safe. Because he knows even if he says something wrong, and even if he upsets Wilson, Wilson is not going to leave him. Wilson does not have these high expectations for him that he feels like he is being forced to fill. And so he can focus on genuinely being in the moment and being there for Wilson because he is not fighting with himself, and he is not scared. He has trust in Wilson and enough trust in their relationship to know that they will work things out. I think the fact that they have very similar issues also helps a lot. He can be mean to Wilson and lash out, and Wilson will recognize that House is doing that because he is scared and because he loves him. In return, Wilson can also insult House and make fun of him because he's just as destructive. They meet each other on the same level because they are equals. House does not feel like Cuddy's equal. He feels like she is better than him, and he can't be himself with her. Him and Wilson know each other as well as they know themselves, and they're not constantly making the other feel like there are high expectations they have to fight to reach in order to love each other or be "worthy" of each other. They're just House and Wilson.
But I have no idea what I'm talking about, so take this with a grain of salt.
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