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#you can hate all of that and still feel sad when he doesn't take that step on that rainbow tide
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charles leclerc swf alphabet
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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Charles is a very affectionate person. Regardless of whether you are alone or around other people. It also doesn't matter to him if there are paparazzi or fans around. Showing affection is very important to him. He even has his arm around you all the time - whether it's around your waist or around your shoulders. He likes to feel that you are next to him and wants to show it himself, too.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Hm, as a friend Charles is someone everyone would like to have. Literally. Leclerc is able to do anything for his friends. Help clean up after a party? He's already the first one there. Having a hard time in life? Oh, don't worry, Charles has it under control and is already on his way to you - if you feel like it of course. A man will never be able to cross someone else's boundaries.
How did it start? I think Charles is the kind of person who can create a friendship literally out of the silliest situation that could be. How about a simple meeting in a coffee shop when they mixed up your orders? Or a meeting among the same friends? That's definitely the key to success.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) He loves to cuddle!!! Especially when he is sad or misses you a lot when you were not next to each other. Although he likes to show affection in front of others, when it comes to hugging, it is a more private sphere. When you are alone, he usually cuddles you to his chest (especially at night) or is a little spooner (he loves it) when you cuddle on the couch. Charles is also a fan of hugging you from the side - his arm around your shoulders, that is.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) I think slowly yes. Charles has been in several relationships in his life, but only with you did he feel that it was time to settle down. It is known, he is still young, after all, he is 27 years old, however, every year he glances more and more towards creating a home nest with you somewhere in Monaco. Well, in cooking he is not perfect, but he likes to help. More often than not, however, he cleans, oh he really likes to clean together with you. You share rooms, that's why it always goes faster for you.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Something quiet. Charles knows very well what it's up against. Social media, mass of hate, comments…. With each passing time, these breakups, as well as the relationship itself, are more private. Of course, it is not hidden, however, more protected. And privately I think Charles tries to handle it gently, with respect for the other person.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) For Charles, a proposal is something big, it's not like simply giving a ring and that's it. I think he would definitely prepare something big, but private. I also think he would have been advised by his brothers when it came to the whole pre-engagement thing. How soon? Ay, definitely not as fast as one might expect, for him it must take a long time before he takes this step.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Charles is very subtle with you, as well as with others. Never in his life has he said such words to you that would hurt you somewhere more, or touched you in a way that could offend you He always wants the best for you and treats you like glass
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As I mentioned. Charles likes to hug - sometimes, especially in the beginning it can be something like black magic for him and looks very comical, but it gets better with time (please tell me you've seen all those edits where they show Charles hugging people in an awkward way, I'm crying)
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Yup, it took him a long time - you kissed faster than it came to the utterance of these words, what's more! You were the first to say them, because you were already fed up with his procrastination - you threw everything on one card and acctually, it worked out
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) The man is jealous. He may not show it, but he's jealous, dammit. Even of Arthur, although less so here He always has his hand on you somewhere or his watchful gaze And if his jealousy scale kicks in (very quickly) he wants to take you away from that person at all costs or just cozies up
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) His kisses mainly depend on whether he is wearing facial hair or not. If he has - there is a lot of laughter at it, by the fact that he tickles you, however, when he doesn't have one, you completely give yourself away to pleasure. The most you both enjoy is just kissing each other on the lips, it gives you a lot of comfort after a long day. However, he also likes to kiss you on the belly when you are lying down together, and he himself likes to be kissed on the neck. He loves it.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Totally like daddy material! The kids love him, and he loves the kids. He knows well how to take care of them, even though he hasn't had much exposure to them in his life, and he loves it when he has the opportunity to do so
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Mornings with Charles are hardcore - even when you have the chance to spend them just the two of them. This man is always in a hurry, he has a lot of things to do and to get up together, it really must be a miracle I don't even mention eating breakfast.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Oh, evenings are definitely your time. You always spend it together, no matter what the day was like. You prepare or order food together, sometimes you drink wine. You must watch a movie or at least an episode of a TV series (depending on how much time you have and how tired you are) and often take baths together. It's time for you to calm down and get ready for bed, before which you talk for a long time
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Charles was attentive, as in any relationship he starts or even already has. I think he is well aware that many people want to take advantage of him because of the benefits. That's why he opened up to you slowly and it took him a long time to trust you 100%, but when he did, he was very happy
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) He's patient - ha, well after all he works with the Ferrari team, if he wasn't so patient he probably wouldn't have been there long ago (pardon the situational joke) Coming back, to you he has great patience, I really don't know what it would take to bring him out of it
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Fifty fifty Charles definitely does not remember dates, although your birthday and your anniversary he tried to forge by heart (poor result), but small details about you are with him forged in such a place to which nothing and no one has access Will you mention your favorite flowers? Have them on the table the next day Favorite drink? Always fresh whenever you feel like it
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) Definitely one of the first dates, where you took him to your favorite childhood spot and just lay there on the grass and talked about various topics - it was there that he opened up about his dad and Jules, and you gave him a comfort he hadn't felt in a long time Later you ended up at your house, snuggled together on the couch, watching his favorite movie, which soon became yours as well (there will be a chapter of this in the relationship series!!)
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He is protective, very protective. By virtue of the fact that you have a relationship with him, you face a mass of hate - in many cases unjustified. Leclerc has therefore been tempted more than once to clarify some issues with his fans. In the real world, not the media world, he is also protective.
No one will lay a hand on you in an inappropriate way or speak to you that way, because they are immediately next to you. How would he himself like to be protected? Ah, he pretends he doesn't need it, however, he likes it when you make rude comments that are thrown at him. Or when he gets into an argument with someone on the team over wrongful accusations and suddenly you step in, defending him.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He is making a huge effort. Leclerc is a perfectionist, so everything at his place must be buttoned up to the last button. Maybe sometimes he will forget a date, such as your anniversary, but then he tries to make up for it and it definitely helps.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Emm, I get the impression that Charles can be a bit selfish or complacent at times. Let's not lie to ourselves, social media can mess with your head quite a bit and Charles is a good example of that, unfortunately. That's why sometimes you have to bring him down to earth, so that fame doesn't go to his head
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He focuses on his appearance, no question about it. Over time, he has started to dress better, which can be seen without batting an eye (well, I beg you, who among you doesn't remember his tragic outfits of a few years ago), and he tries to keep his hair and facial in good condition
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes, I think he would feel that way. You were the one who let him settle down by your side and showed him yet another vision of life that he hadn't seen until now. Together you make a really strong couple, and by not giving it to so much media remark, it definitely helps.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) One of the things that literally knocks him off his feet is your contact with his family. You've single-handedly started learning French to better communicate with them (if you speak French, forgive me) and Charles is fascinated by you. From the first meeting of yours with his mother, he knew you were the only one
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Charles doesn't like to lose - he often doesn't show it, but it's definitely one of the things that affects him the most. He takes it very much to heart, which makes him try several times harder later on - which has its pros and cons. In people, he very much dislikes hypocrisy and taking advantage of others, which is also what guides him when he meets others
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Charles has trouble sleeping. Due to the experiences he went through when he was a young man, which caused him mental problems, sleep problems also arose. He often sits for long periods of time, and you try with all your might to sit with him so that he is not lonely.
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A/N: please do not copy or translate my work! if you have any issues regarding this please contact me in the messages :)
and so we have officially started the alphabet SWF series, one at a time will appear for everyone :) in the meantime also the rest of the NSWF alphabet
more content: formula 1 masterlist, latest one-shot with lando norris, charles leclerc masterlist
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fellthemarvelous · 3 days
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Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.
Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.
Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.
Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.
I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.
As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.
Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.
And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.
First of all.
FIRST OF ALL...
Aziraphale has a mind of his own.
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Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.
Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.
He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.
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He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.
He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.
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He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.
He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.
Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.
Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.
You get that, right?
Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.
People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.
Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.
And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.
And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.
Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.
But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.
What did he give them?
We all know what it is!
Let's say it together!
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He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.
And then what did he do after that?
Ooooh, yeah, that's right.
God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.
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Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.
This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.
We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.
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But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.
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Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.
And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.
He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.
Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.
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But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.
But then The Metatron said this....
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The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.
It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.
But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.
Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.
He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.
But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.
Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.
Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.
Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.
And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.
What the actual fuck, y'all.
Like seriously.
I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.
It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.
People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.
Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.
I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.
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the-blue-sandglass · 9 months
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You know folks-
Condemning Ben's behaviour, particularly towards Charlie, and not seeing his personal issues as an excuse to literally ab//e and attempt s/a on his partner while ALSO wanting him to get better as a person and accept himself (including his sexuality) in a healthy way aren't mutually exclusive, and probably shouldn't be treated as mutually exclusive-
In the same vein-
You can fully hope that Ben was trying to be sincere and that he'll be a better person one day while ALSO acknowledging that Charlie does not owe him anything, is not obligated to forgive him and is not responsible for his absolution-
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asilentsongbird · 9 months
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Neuvillette pines for you.
Furina learns to avoid him simply so she doesn't have to hear about whatever thing you've done lately that Neuvillette is obsessed with.
The ache is so deep in his soul it almost hurts.
The rain comes in a downpour sometimes. To match the wetness on his cheeks. Though sometimes he can't tell if it's the rain or his tears on his face.
You find him like this one evening. An umbrella tucked under your arm as you find the Chief Justice on the shore, head bowed and completely soaked.
"Monsieur Neuvillette?" you ask softly, coming up behind him. Your umbrella is just big enough to protect him from the rain. "Are you alright?"
He turns to you with shock on his face, tears still running down his face. A thousand thoughts race through his head, everything from did you see him crying to why in the world are you out in the rain?
A soft, gentle hand touches his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize it's your hand, the softest thing he's felt. Instinctively, he wants to lean into the touch. So he does.
"Are you crying?" your voice is soft, concerned, without the barest hint of judgement he so easily passes on to the players of his court.
The umbrella is shoved into the crook of his arm, and another hand reaches up to join the other. You cup both of his cheeks, though he has to bend slightly to allow you to do so, which he does so easily.
"There," you murmur, brushing your thumbs under his eyes. Your smile is so soft, even softer than your touch. "You have beautiful eyes, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hate to see you so sad."
The rain stops suddenly, as though someone has turned off a switch in the sky itself. His cheeks are dry and the sky is clear, and before he can say a word, you're looking up at it instead of him, still smiling.
"The rain stopped." You sound so happy about it, he almost feels bad for making it rain. You press the umbrella further against his hand.
Your touch feels warm. Inviting, and soft. Everything about you feels soft to him.
"Keep it for next time, okay? I'd hate to stumble upon you wandering through the rain again. You could catch a cold!"
He clears his throat softly, trying to figure out words. He's pretty sure words didn't exist before you started talking to him, and now he's floundering over them like a child.
"Allow me to walk you home," he finally manages, as though he didn't stumble over words for the first time in his life.
You smile, and link your arm through his own when he offers it. The sky above you two hasn't been this clear and blue in ages.
Perhaps, after he finishes walking you home, he can figure out how to finally ask you to dinner.
But who knows, really. After all, if he cries again, will you touch him as softly as before?
There's only one way to find out.
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daegall · 8 months
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☆ tiny mishap
➷ in which your very protective boyfriend interrogates you about a certain wound you have
pairing: (opla!)bf!zoro x reader
genre: fluff, slight crack, established relationship!AU
warnings: injuries, booze, mentions of self harm (it is assumed, but false) based off opla!zoro, but has chopper bc chopper <3
word count: 1.5k words
a/n: to my nct audience; LOL SORRY IF THIS CAME UP IN UR FEED AND YOU GOT CONFUSED 😇🙏 currently obssesed over one piece live action dude i physically cannot explain how much i love all the characters :( (esp koby and nami's character development!!!) anw ive been having a major zoro brainrot so :) enjoy!!!
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You grumble and keep a hand to your cheek, shoulders slumped and sore, as you walk into the kitchen, in search of someone specific.
Chopper, your trusty nurse and adorable friend, of course. Who else would heal the cut on your face and bruises on your arm?
Hearing a little action going on in the kitchen, you can only assume is your captain Luffy, or Usopp, as they both are food lovers, after all.
"Hey, have you guys seen Chopper anywhe–"
However, once you make it inside the kitchen, you are shocked to see the person you've been avoiding this whole morning.
"Oh," You breathe out. A frown curls on your lips once you realize he's got a bottle of booze wrapped in his hand, bringing it up to his lips as he turns to gaze at you. "Damn it, I thought I hid those..."
Your boyfriend's got a nasty habit of drinking alcohol. Anytime he wanted. Bored? He's either napping, training, or drinking his stupid booze. Tired? Booze. Feeling happy or sad? Stupid booze.
You've been trying to stop him before he becomes 80% alcohol, but he's better at finding it than you are at hiding it.
"Morning," Zoro mumbles, as he puts his bottle down. "tried to hide these just like you've been hiding from me me all day?"
At his words, you look away, taking a step away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about,"
"Why are you holding your cheek?"
When your eyes flicker back at him, he's got a worried frown, a crease in his eyebrows some might mistake as anger, but you recognize it as care.
He cares for you, and you hate how soft it makes you.
"It's just... cold," You attempt to lie, rubbing at your skin. Bad idea, as you fail to stop your hiss of pain.
Zoro instantly walks towards you, his hands releasing his bottle of beer, and his swords, to raise it to your face. One hand hovers over your uncovered cheek, the other wrapping it's fingers around your wrist gently.
"Show me."
You still, not knowing what to do. You know you're gonna succumb to him anyway, so there's no need to put up a fight, but you can't help how stubborn you are.
So, you don't step away, but you don't lower your hand anyway.
"Y/N," Zoro says sternly.
"It's nothing, I swear, just a tiny... mishap,"
"Then show me,"
Despite his voice being so harsh, and his gaze just as much, you know this is all because he loves you. You can tell by the way his thumb softly runs over your skin, you can tell by the way he steps closer to observe further, you can tell by the way he doesn't force you. He trusts that you trust him, and you hate how it works on you every time.
"Do you at least have any bandages?"
With your tiny voice and small gaze up at him, Zoro knows you've given in.
"You know I always do,"
It's true. With the amount of fights he gets himself into, he has at least 2 packs on him. Also in case you scrape your knee or get a papercut. It's the small things he does that assure you he cares.
He finally releases his grip on your wrist, walking back to pick up his bottle of beer on the counter. Before he can even take a sip, however, you hop onto the counter in front of him, and snatch the bottle, shaking your head.
"It's 10 in the morning." You remind him sternly.
Zoro can't stop the tiny smirk on the corner of his lips, huffing. "Yeah, yeah,"
You know he loves you, he knows you love him too.
It's the tiny things like this that prove it. The way you try to make him a better man, the way you'd instantly take care of his wounds yourself, the way you shush the other crewmembers when he's napping. And unlike you, he loves how soft it makes him.
"Take your hand off now."
Though you have a disapproving look, and grimace, you comply, slowly lowering your hand from your cheek.
You look down at your lap once you hear his sharp intake of air, playing with the hem of your shirt.
Zoro can't take his eyes off the cut on your cheekbone, his heart sinking impossibly quickly, cracking when he sees a bruise right under the cut. "What the fuck happened?"
"It just... happened," You mumble weakly.
"Who did it?" Zoro'a voice, once again, is harsh, but you hear the shake in it, worry.
"...I did,"
You know he takes it the wrong way the next second, considering how you answered him, you would have skipped to conclusions yourself.
"You're harming yourself?!"
You interject immediently, reaching out to grab his wrist, "No! God, no, Zoro,"
You haven't said his name until now, and it still manages to send a wave of warmth over his body. The way you are so quick to reassure him, the way you lean into his warmth, how your skin rubs against his comfortingly, it all warms him inside. He's only ever felt warm with you, which is why he loves you so much.
"Then how did it happen?"
At his question, you frown again, but it's less serious than before, it's more of a pout, if anything.
"It's stupid."
"It's not stupid if you're getting hurt."
"You'll think it's stupid,"
"Our captain is Luffy, whatever you do can't be that bad."
Zoro waits patiently for your answer, taking out the band-aid from his pocket. His eyes shine with anticipation, no longer (that) angry, and you're glad he isn't as worried anymore. You hate making him worry.
"I..." You hesitate for a second, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. You decide that it doesn't matter if he laughs or not in the end, because he won't ever see you differently. He's your Zoro, and he'll always be by your side.
"You know how there was a storm last night?"
Your boyfriend's eyebrows raise at your words, and he nods silently, gently sticking the band-aid to your cheek. He blows on it, making sure it's secure.
"I fell off my bed and face planted onto the floor,"
At your words, Zoro completely freezes, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw. You can't tell what he's quite feeling, as one, you didn't have the pride to look at him for more than 2 seconds, and two, he remains as emotionless as a rock.
"...Zoro?"
Suddenly, there's a sound. A strange sound that comes from him. It's unfamiliar, but... strangely warm. You come to a conclusion that Roronoa Zoro, your cold, stoic boyfriend, is laughing. He's laughing with his whole heart, eyes squinting as he finally smiles, the prettiest, most precious smile you have ever seen.
Zoro's forehead lands on your shoulder as he continues, an arm wrapping around your waist to secure you in place.
"Roronoa Zoro are you laughing at me?"
"N-no–" He snorts. How dare he lie to your face.
Although he did flat out lie to your face, it's endearing. His laugh and smile is new, comforting, and you swear your could listen to it your whole life and not complain.
"I-I'm not laughing at you, I promise!"
"Doesn't look like it," You huff out with a grumble, facing away from, attempting to hide the shy smile curling on your lips.
"N-nooo!" Zoro chuckles. A sudden warm feeling envelops not only your chin, but your whole entire being, as Zoro tilts your head back to him, your heart almost stopping at the sight of his charming grin.
He's grinning.
And it's all because of you.
You have to admit, you're proud of yourself.
"You're just... too adorable,"
"Roronoa Zoro, you're flirting with me now?!"
"Shhh!" He shushes you, though its playful, and loving, placing his index finger on your smiley lips.
You two sit there, alone and together, for minutes on end, unable to let the moment become a memory. Zoro resumes with patching you up, caressing the bruises on your arm comfortingly.
It's moments like these that make you realize just how special you are to Zoro, and just how special he is to you, because who else on planet earth would be able to get him to laugh thay hard, grin that much, and love you that much?
You'd crash into the floor a million times if it meant seeing Zoro's smile, you'd admit to any embarassing moment, if it meant having to hear his melodious laugh.
"You know," He breaks the peaceful silence, causing you to grow concious of how you were staring at him. To be fair, the both of you don't mind staring at each other. What's there to hide? You love him, he loves you.
"you could come nap with me if you want. I could keep you anchored to the bed so you don't fall out again."
Considering how much he valued his hours of sleep, and alone time, this is something big he asks you of, and you feel a sweet warmth stirr in you.
This time, you don't grow shy, or snarl at his sarcastic remark. Rather, you grin at your lover, reaching up to pinch his chin playfully. "You'd like that, huh?"
"Don't say you wouldn't,"
"And if I drag you down with me?"
Zoro shrugs, ruffling your bed-head. "We'll both get to laugh and patch each other up."
You reach up to peck his cheek, before hopping off the counter. "I'll take you up on that someday,"
3K notes · View notes
gremlingottoosilly · 3 months
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The recruits bully octo baby 😭
I feel like since the baby looks like könig, it’s there way of making fun of könig without being throttled
Like on the off days that reader is out and about with octo baby in her sling and here are all these buff men suddenly circling her and making fun of the baby.
“Damn that’s an ugly baby.”
“Imagine having to go through the pain of pregnancies only to have THAT thing come out of you.”
“You think that’s how the colonel looked like as a baby? No wonder he had to kidnap his wife”
They’re all cackling to themselves as reader just scowls at them, hugging her baby close to her and power walking out of there. I can imagine octo baby looking over her shoulder, staring at them with his feelings hurt: 🥺
Yes! The monster society is literally built on valuing only strength and power, so the weird octobaby won't get any privileges even if it's the colonel's child. If anything, poor thing gets ridiculed even more - with how powerful his father is and how pathetic the octobaby are, it's impossible to escape crude jokes. You hate being around his recruits because of this - they are treating your child like its some crusty dusty ugly dog and not a precious baby that might have a bit of grotesquely mixed features of octopus and a human...you still love it!! You actually stopped going out because of it - whenever you're walking around the base without Konig, it would only lead to soldiers discussing you and your life as a pet and how weird it must be to give birth to such ugly creature. Konig is surprised that you're more homebound now, since you were the one to whine and cry whenever he didn't want to let you go out...and now you ask him to just be in your nest?? With you?? Something is wrong, you look unhappy and angry all the time - and it would be normal if he was the reason for this, but no, he was actually on his best behavior lately. You don't want to share what recruits are talking about because you think he would just take their side - he doesn't like the weird octobaby and you know this, so it's better to not even suggest he'd talk to them...but then you break down anyway because you're scared the octobaby is going to get hurt(( and Konig doesn't understand the issues at first, but then he hears all the stuff that the recruits have been telling you - and it's almost a direct attack at him, for insulting his mate and his baby. His soldiers are making you cry!! He couldn't care less about the baby, but he doesn't want his precious mate so sad. Needless to say that some of the most loud recruits are not returning from patrols...and when you're strolling through the hallways now, no one dares to even look at you or the baby.
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marriedtobigfoot · 9 months
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Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.
So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.
Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.
Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.
He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.
He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.
Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.
And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.
By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.
Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.
"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"
Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.
"I don't mind sharing."
Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.
Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.
"Are you really gay?"
Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.
"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."
It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.
"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"
"It's not weird."
"Okay."
Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.
"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."
"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."
"What do you do when it's not enough?"
"Hmmm?"
"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"
Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.
"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."
"Oh."
Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.
"I don't know how to do any of that."
He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.
"Steve...are you lonely?"
Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.
He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.
He panics a little at the sight.
"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."
And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.
Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.
"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.
"I don't know man. I just wish-"
He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.
"What do you wish Steve?"
"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"
It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.
He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.
He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.
Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.
He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.
"Thanks man."
And Eddie takes another leap of faith.
"I could be that person, you know."
"What?"
"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."
Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.
"Just for tonight?"
It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.
"Yeah. For tonight Steve."
"I think...I think I'd like that."
Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.
"Alright sweetheart."
Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.
He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.
He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.
"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"Hmmm?"
"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"
And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.
"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"
"The real one."
"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."
Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.
"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"
Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.
"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."
Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.
"That sounds nice."
It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.
*It's only for tonight.*
He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.
But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.
Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.
Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.
But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.
Just for one night.
And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.
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borathae · 4 months
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"Jungkook returns from a work trip, which kept you away from each other for three long weeks. He seeks comfort in the fact that he can finally fall asleep next to you again. Come morning however, those giddy feelings turned into fiery desire. It doesn't matter that you are still sleeping. Jungkook missed you and he needs you."
♢ Requested by @seagulljk ♢
Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut
Warnings: cute love notes, naked cuddling, sub!Jungkook, Dom!Reader, mommy kink, she calls him Bunny, consensual somnophilia, humping of her butt, thigh fucking, needy!Kook, begging, needy kisses, praise kink, good boy kink, spooning position, he cums too soon, creampie, sloppy oral (f.receiving), cum eating, pussy fingering, hair pulling (m.receiving), a bit of nipple play, body worshipping, possessive talk (he is all like "I'm yours"), subby boy tears, cuddly aftercare
Wordcount: 5.7k
a/n: I haven't heard from you in ages *stares longingly into distance* you requested this for Kinktober 22 and I finally finished it. it also fits perfectly into my biggest wish which is "kook comes homes". enjoy besties, this is so lovely ❤
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Not being home has become way too regular for him. Jungkook hates it. He hates it so much. The penthouse is quiet once again when he arrives. There was no delay in flights or traffic jams, it is simply that his plane landed late. And he hates it. He hates how often he has to leave these days.
You knew of his late arrival and therefore Jungkook is greeted with a sticky note on the coat hanger. He picks it up, reading it as he slips out of his coat. 
“Welcome home Bunny! Check fridge :D” 
Jungkook smiles and slips the note into the front pocket of his suit. He discards the suitcase by the stairs like always on his way to the fridge. He opens it. His eyes instantly drift to the container of fried rice and the array of side dishes. He takes them out, eyes drifting to the second sticky note on one of the containers. He picks it up and reads it. 
“Yaay you found me :D…” 
Jungkook smiles, scrunching his nose as he continues reading.
“...you can warm up the rice if you want to and add some cheese on top. I put all my love into it ♡…”
Jungkook feels his heart flutter. He hugs the sticky note to his chest and closes his eyes. One little squeeze and then he continues.
“...sorry I couldn’t be there. Today drained me :(...” 
“Oh no, I’m sorry”, Jungkook whispers and pouts.
“...I hope you are home safe. I adore you, my love ♡”
He smiles again, “I adore you too, my love.” 
He gives the sticky note a kiss and places it on the counter for later safe storing. He keeps a box with all your memories and little letters in his home office. Actually, it is three boxes and he is in the midst of filling up the fourth one. Jungkook likes to keep everything. Truly everything concerning your relationship. Your sweet notes will find their warm home with all the other precious memorabilia tomorrow morning once he slept his jetlag off.
He puts the container of rice into the microwave and uses the time to carry his luggage upstairs. He’ll do the laundry tomorrow. He slips out of his suit and changes into a simple t-shirt and sweats combo, then hurries downstairs again. The food is warmed up and ready, filling his nose with a mouth-watering scent. He takes the container and the side dishes and eats them standing by the kitchen island and with his eyes zoned out on the city lights.
It’s a good time. Jungkook missed your food so much. It is once again important to mention that he doesn’t expect you to cook and that you do so because you want to. If you suddenly decide to stop cooking, Jungkook would be sad because he loves your food the most, but he wouldn’t be angry. You do this voluntarily and Jungkook loves every single dish you make. Tonight’s dish tastes especially good. You grilled chicken breast and some vegetables and you even added canned tuna to the rice, topping everything off with a savoury-spicy sauce. Jungkook loves it so much.
He had to be without you for twenty days. It was hell again. Of course it was because he wasn’t with you. He missed everything about you and that also included your food. It tastes so good. So homemade, so full of love and care. Jungkook enjoys every bite as if it was his first, humming and moaning to himself as he enjoys the good food. 
Once done and happily sated, Jungkook washes the dishes and puts them back into their shelves. He wipes the part of the kitchen island counter he ate on and then makes his way to the upstairs bathroom to wash up. Afterwards and without any clothes on, he finally walks to the bedroom.
He is tired and more than anything, he misses you. 
He sadly walks by the little sticky note you left on the bedroom door because he didn’t have the lights on. He will find it tomorrow and read it with sparkly eyes. It says something along the line that behind this door his snuggles are waiting. You are such a cheesy romantic these days. Jungkook loves it so much. 
The blinds are closed completely. Like always, Jungkook uses the light of his phone screen to tiptoe to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Like always, he only uses his phone flashlight for vision and like always, he uses his phone screen again as he tiptoes to the bed. He turns on his purposefully-weak night light and uses it to apply lip balm and drink some water. Then he slips under the cover, keeping the nightlight on for a little longer. You are turned to him, sleeping halfway on your stomach and with your cheek squished. 
Jungkook feels his heart swell and his stomach tingle. He reaches out and moves some of your hair out of your face. He brushes the back of his fingers down your temple and cheek, holding your hand afterwards. His thumb is drawing hearts on your skin. 
“I missed you”, he whispers and moves closer to kiss your cheek, your temple and lastly your eyelid as gently as possible. 
He gives the shell of your ear a soft kiss as well and caresses the back of your head before putting some distance between you and him. 
He turns off the nightlight and holds your hand again. He didn’t even have to look for it. He knew exactly where he would find it. 
He closes his eyes. He is so exhausted from travelling and finally being with you again is doing the rest to him. He is home again. And home means sleep. Jungkook listens to your breathing and finds healing in the sound of it.
Seconds later, he has joined you in dreamland, smiling faintly because nothing beats sleeping next to you.
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Jungkook opens his eyes to darkness. He was wrong. There is one thing which can beat sleeping next to you. Waking up with you in his arms. 
You are his little spoon, giving him warmth. He must have reached for you in his sleep or maybe you cuddled into him in your sleep. Whatever the case, Jungkook slept for nine hours and is waking up with you in his arms. Your scent is the only thing he takes in, he can feel your back sink and rise as you breathe, there is a little wet spot on his arm where you are drooling on him. 
Jungkook smiles and pulls you closer. You would hate it, but you are so cute right now. You would probably wrestle him for it – gently of course and with love – if you read his thoughts right now, but Jungkook thinks you are cute as you drool on his arm. 
His blanket slipped halfway off his body so that only the back side of his body was covered, while his front was pressed against your body. Your blanket served as a barrier and Jungkook doesn’t like that. He shimmies back just enough so that he can open the blanket and slip under. So now he has two blankets covering him and your body against his’.
He feels his breath hitch. You aren’t wearing clothes either. Your body is so warmed up from sleep, your skin is so soft. Jungkook feels his emotions overwhelm him. He was ready for everything but not to cuddle you naked on the first morning together again. He pulls you into his chest and exhales shakily. Your legs tangle as best as possible. Your butt applies pressure on his crotch. Jungkook feels whole again. This kind of emotion only you can give him. This kind of connection and comfort. 
This work trip didn’t leave him as anxious as previous ones did. You visited him for three days in the middle of it, which made it easier to bear, but it was still not easy. Jungkook still had to go seventeen days without you and the last week of the trip was hell. The hours were inhumanely long, the nights were lonely and the yearning unbearable. So Jungkook finds healing in holding you as your bodies share the most intimate of states. 
He stays like this for quite a while. Holding you. Feeling you. Breathing you. And experiencing you. This is what heaven is. This is it. This is the only thing which will make everything better again. Jungkook will fight through all the hellish work trips in the world if at the end of them, your hug awaits. 
Jungkook sighs and relaxes his muscles. He falls asleep again like this. The comfort of cuddling you naked dragged him right down into sweet dreams. He sleeps for another hour, then he wakes again. You are still sleeping, holding his hand by now. Your position hasn’t changed, but the state of one certain body part has. 
He got a boner. 
Jungkook didn’t plan on getting hard. His plan was to cuddle and snuggle you until late into the morning and then when you wake up, kiss you for hours with the sweet thought that maybe passionate sex will follow.
He wasn’t planning on getting hard already, but it seems that his body has different plans for him. It’s not even one of his normal boners. The kind he always gets in the morning because he is a healthy man with healthy blood circulation. 
This hard on aches and he knows for a fact that it won’t go away after a few minutes. It is here to stay and it is here to torture him. 
It is currently squished between his body and your butt. The pressure, which once gave him comfort, is torturing him. You are so soft and warm that it gets difficult not to move. 
He tries to check if maybe you are awake by giving your hand a little shake. You pull his hand closer, but stay unmoving otherwise. You are still asleep. 
Jungkook takes a deep breath, feeling dizzy. He has two options. Ignore the boner and suffer or attempt to find relief by rubbing himself against you. 
He knows that you wouldn’t mind if he did. You and he know that somno is allowed and appreciated, so Jungkook is aware that he has consent to get off with your sleeping body. He still hesitates. He always does because he feels like such a dirty man whenever he does it. He is embarrassed about getting so needy that he can’t even control himself anymore. And he also feels as if he is soiling your body. You are so precious to him, so to secretly find relief with you always leaves him feeling a little guilty.
You would call him a stupid noodle if you knew his thoughts. 
Jungkook feels needy tingles go through his legs. The reminder of his beloved nickname made him even hornier. He loves being your stupid noodle and he always gets giddy when you call him this way. 
He wiggles his hips. Slowly. Just a little. His pretty cockhead grinds against your butt up and down. 
He squeezes your hand, muffling his shaky sigh in the back of your head. This felt so good. He wants to experience it again. 
He wiggles his hips. His cock moves. Up and down. The sensation is electric. Your skin is so soft. Your warmth seeps so deep into his cock. He wants more.
He moves his hips and does it a second time right afterwards. His legs feel so, so warm as the pleasure emits from his cock.
“Oh god”, he sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He is propped up on his elbow this way, using the new support to roll his hips into you. Your scent fills his nose as he inhales deeply in reaction to the grinds. Mellifluous and warm from sleep. You only smell like this when you spent hours cozy and comfy under the covers. You get this addicting sweetness to you. He always feels droopy from it.
Jungkook wets your skin because it makes him so, so needy to have it fill his senses. It makes grinding so much easier and for his needy hips to chase the short relief with eagerness. 
He wants to fucking scream, this feels so good. Grinding hasn’t felt that good in ages. Jungkook knows it’s because he hadn’t been home for such a long time. The thought that he wasn’t, makes him want you even more. 
Jungkook reaches between your bodies and grabs his own cock. He bends it so he can push it between your thighs. The friction is intense, bordering painful. It would be so much easier if he used lube. He can’t reach it right now. You are in the middle of the bed and if he moved too much, he’d wake you.
Jungkook bites down on his lower lip and pushes harder. It burns. He swallows the pain and pushes one last time. Your thighs welcome his cock, letting him sink between them. They hug and squeeze, feeling oh so hot around him. 
“Mommy”, Jungkook moans and pulls his hips back. His cock slides from between your thighs. He pushes it back inside, leaving trails of wetness. It begins covering more and more of your skin, making the fucking easier. 
Jungkook pulls back just to push inside. He does it over and over again, biting his lower lip so hard that it starts to hurt. If he wouldn't muffle himself, he’d wake you up with incessant moaning. Your thighs are so soft. The position they are in as you slumber, makes them press together naturally and therefore get so, so tight to fuck. 
No wonder it hurt at first until he got embarrassingly needy. He gets wet so easily. The friction isn’t uncomfortable anymore. It is still there, but it feels amazing. It makes sure to drag and move his sensitive skin right over the spots which are filled with the most nerve endings and Jungkook can’t stop.
He fucked himself needy. There is no escape anymore. He has to continue. His boner wouldn’t ever go down otherwise.
“Holy fuck, Mommy”, he whimpers and drags his parted lips over your neck in what try to be kisses. He is so, so drooly in his worshiping attempt, but he can’t help himself. Your thighs make him feel so, so, so woozy. 
He kisses, licks and sucks your neck with closed eyes and his leaky cock twitching between your thighs. Small moans escape him. He has no control over them. He is too far gone. Too lost in how good you feel. 
Oh how lost he is. So, so lost that he doesn’t even realise he began slipping up until he suddenly feels something else grind against his cock as well. Your pussy. Soft. Your groomed pubes bring such a new sensation to the fuck. 
“Mommy please”, it makes Jungkook beg instantly. He closes his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as his hips pick up a needy pace. 
This is making him desperate. He is so close to the warmest and softest spot of your body. He is right there. At his home. And he can’t slip inside because the current position would end up hurting for you. You are too tight to slip in. Jungkook is left fucking his needy cock between your thighs and make do with what little contact he has to your pussy.
“Mommy please wake up”, he begs and sucks on your earlobe. He mewls and keens, finding immense relief in the sensation. His cock twitches, his body shivers, “oh god”, he croaks. His lips are pressed to your ear as he begs, “please Mommy, please.” 
You shift in his arms, rolling closer into his chest. Your head moves. Jungkook’s heart skips beats. His hips stutter in excitement.
“Bunny?” 
“Hey Mommy, hey”, he gets out and mewls, “oh god, you’re awake.”
“What’s happening?” your voice is heavy in sleep. You sound so out of it still. 
“I’m sorry. Mommy, I’m sorry. I got hard”, he confesses and whimpers as he fucks his cock between your thighs in example. 
You are barely awake. You still feel disoriented from sleep, so the sensation of Jungkook fucking his cock between your thighs is hidden behind a droopy veil. 
“Please can I slip it in?” Jungkook begs and pulls you closer with his hand dimpling your side.
“Mhm Bunny, you’re doing things”, you lull and laugh sleepily, “you stupid noodle.”
Jungkook trembles. Tears shoot to his eyes. He whimpers in overwhelming emotion.
“Please Mommy, please I’m begging you. Oh god, I wanna be inside so bad. Oh god”, he babbles in high pitched pleas, shaking behind you as his twitchy cock leaks all over your skin. 
His begs are muffled as well. You are so nicely gone in sleep still. You are very awake between your legs however. Jungkook’s needy humping brought all the attention right between them and woke you up. So while the rest of your body was still useless in sleepiness, you feel achingly awake on the spots where his cock grinds against you.
“Please, I’ll be careful. Please, I’m begging you”, Jungkook pleads, struggling with his thrusts as his legs tremble, “oh god, I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much”, he gets out and sobs into your neck, “Mommy please make it stop, please.” 
“Fuck, you’re so needy”, you chuckle lazily, giving his hand a little squeeze. You shift your hips and lift your leg. 
“No, please more”, Jungkook begs and tries to push your leg down again.
“Bunny, I’m trying to give you access. What are you doing?” you laugh, shaking him off.
“Oh. Oh god, I’m so stupid”, he babbles.
“No, you’re not. Slip in, Bunny.”
“Mommy”, he whimpers and follows your order instantly. He pushes inside. The breach steals your breath away. Insane warmth fills your pussy instantly. Holy fuck, you missed him so much. 
You reach behind yourself, burying your hand in his hair. You close your eyes because being filled with him feels too overwhelming not to.
“Mommy”, he whimpers, letting his head drop against the side of your face, “I love you”, he squeaks and bottoms out. He shakes and trembles, soiling your cheek with a sloppy attempt at a kiss as his arms pull you tighter against him.
“I love you too, Bunny.”
“Oh god, ahmhm.”
He chases you instantly. The sensation is too addicting not to. He whimpers and mewls as he does, leaving kiss marks all over your face. You have your head turned to him so you are getting kissed everywhere. Your cheek, your nose, your eyelid and forehead. Down your temple until he finally lingers on your lips for longer. 
You receive them with closed eyes and a droopy smile. He feels so good. He feels so good filling you up, he feels so good holding you and he feels so good kissing your face. This is the best way to wake up. Nothing will ever top this. 
You drop your leg again because you got tired. The sensation intensifies. You moan feeling your senses blur. He is inside you. It gets so intensely obvious now that you are so tight.
“Mommy”, he whimpers into the kiss, feeling his legs shake, “tight, ah.”
“I know. Feels so good”, you whisper with a dizzy head. You can feel him shift and move inside you. His cock is so soft and covered in your wet pleasure. It grinds against your butt and parts of your thighs each time he moves, leaving trails of wetness behind. You know that he us getting fucked twice. By your pussy and your thighs. 
“It’s so intense”, he gets out and moans desperately.
“I know, you’re getting fucked so good. Mhm?”
“So good”, he whimpers, “oh god, Mommy.”
“My Bunny”, you moan and pull him back into a kiss as you finally show him the rhythm you want. He is a little sloppy at first until you calm him down with rubs to his neck and your tongue guiding his’. 
And while his lips calm down against yours, his hips become needier. He pushes them against you as tightly as possible, keeping his cock so, so deep inside one might wonder if he tries to bury his balls in you as well. He probably would if he could. 
Oh, he wants to fucking melt with you. He is so deep inside and yet he still aches. Not even your pussy is giving him the relief he needs. He keeps pressing against you, chasing the tight hug of your soft warmth with small circles of his hips.
You moan into the kiss, twisting his hair gently. Jungkook whimpers because he knows what this means. He is hitting the right spot. Or at least he is getting there.
He feels that you are different than on days where you dedicate a lot of time to foreplay. He knows that you haven’t been paid attention to for enough time that your pussy could properly shift and change to take cock. But he is getting there. Your moans and needy twisting of his hair is letting him know. 
He slides his right hand down your stomach, lingering on the lowest part for a moment. He presses down until he feels how his cock shifts inside.
The kiss breaks, “Bunny”, you breathe and arch your back so you could press yourself closer. He is squeezing the sensitive parts right against his cock. The small circles of his hips give them a constant massage. It feels so good.
“Is it good? Am I careful enough?” he asks in a trembling voice.
“Yeah, ah”, you let out a little moan and pull him down against your lips. 
Jungkook feels his cock throb. Not only on his cock but also against his hand. He doesn’t know how to handle the increasing pleasure running through his veins and so he slides his hand from your stomach to rub your clit instead. He picks up some of the juices coating his cock and uses them to massage circles into your sensitive spot. 
“Bunny", you break the kiss again to gasp and moan. You throb under his fingers, convulse around his cock. The spots he hits inside gain in sensitivity. You are burning up.
“Am I doing good, Mommy?” he begs for your praise. Please. It is everything he needs.
“So good”, you get out and push back against him, “good Bunny, holy fuck ah…”
“Mommy", he sobs softly and feels his hips falter, “oh god, I’m close.”
“Suddenly?” 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 
He stops his thrusts in an attempt to calm down the approaching high, but he is too far gone. His thoughts are pushing him over the edge. You praised him. This is everything he needed.
“Ah! Oh god, sorry”, he moans and trembles, “no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mommy.”
You chuckle fondly, running your fingers through his hair. He is so adorable. Your sweet Bunny so, so excited from being praised that it’s throwing him over the edge. 
“I’m so sorry oh god it feels so goood.”
“There we go, let it all out Bunny. That’s it”, you talk him through it, playing with his hair as you do. You can’t even be mad at him for stopping. Not when he is so adorable.
Jungkook finishes after five twitchy strokes, dropping on top of you as his face hides away in your neck. His cock is buried inside, pulsating weakly as he recovers.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, this was so bad of me. I’m sorry”, he gets out between quick pants. 
“You’re right. You’re such a bad Bunny”, you lull, grinning to yourself.
“I’m sorry, Mommy”, he whimpers, shaking in a little sob, “oh god, I’m a bad Bunny. So, so bad. Mommy, you can punish me.”
“No Bunny. No punishments. I want you to say sorry.”
“Oh god”, he croaks.
You smile.
He understood. Good.
“Can you do that for me, Bunny? Can you say sorry?”
“Yes, Mommy. I can. Oh, I can”, he says and slips out of you. 
He rolls you onto your back and disappears under the blanket. Seconds later you feel his hot mouth on your pussy and his long fingers holding your waist. 
“Mhhm fuck”, you purr, arching your back languidly as his hot tongue laps at your pussy. The sensation is different from his fingers. Wetter, hotter and softer. You fucking love every second of it.
He mewls under the blanket, feeling so dizzy. His cum keeps seeping out of you. No matter how hard he tries to clean you, he just can’t finish it. You keep leaking more and more. 
“Mommy, I came so much”, he lets you know and swirls his tongue down your folds, lapping at your entrance. He needs to clean you. He needs to say sorry. He needs to be a good boy. He licks your creamed entrance, trying so hard to get it clean.
“You did”, you sigh your words, feeling lightheaded, “keep going until I’m clean.”
Jungkook hums in obedience and slurps. He licks, laps, slurps and sucks, needing you to be clean so fucking bad. He needs to show you that he is still good. That he is your best Bunny and not a naughty Bunny. This is all he needs and all he craves. He wants you to know that what he did was a mistake. And that he regrets it deeply. 
“Fuck, you feel so good”, you let out and writhe happily. His tongue is filling you as far as he can reach, while his nose is buried between your folds. He has the perfect nose. It fits so perfectly in your pussy to grind on your clit whenever he tongue fucks you. 
“Good Bunny, you’re so…good…”
Jungkook mewls at the praise, dimpling your waist as his needy fingers close tighter around you. Your lovely taste begins seeping more and more through the tangy taste of his own cum. He is doing such a good job at cleaning you, speeding up his tongue because he is so excited for your taste. 
It makes the wettest sound, filling the air with it. It motivates him to perform even better. To press himself closer and fill your pussy. His nose is covered in your juices, stimulating your clit. He feels her throb on the tip of his nose as your scent surrounds him. You smell so warm after penetration. He can’t get enough, showing his desperation by curling his tongue inside you.
Your legs tremble and slip over his arms. Propped up on the mattress and continuing to shake, they lift the blanket just enough that fresh air gets to him. It was so perfectly stuffy and warm before, but Jungkook doesn’t want to complain because he is trapped under your legs and that feels so good. 
“You’re so fucking good”, you get out breathily and run your fingers through his hair. You do it with both hands, giving him loving caresses without ever pulling at his hair. The sensation brings trembles to Jungkook’s lips. The tingles don’t stop running down his spine. 
He breaks away because he genuinely can’t breathe. His nose was blocked by your pussy and his mouth gagged by it. He didn’t want to break away but he had to. He pants, recovering by sloppily kissing the inside of your thighs. He holds them in his hands for it, leaving spots of sensitivity because he sucks way too hard. You let him because it feels so good. 
“I belong to you”, he gets out, “oh god, I’m yours. Yours. I’m yours.” 
“Yeah, mine”, you sigh, “my Bunny.”
“Yours. You own me”, he croaks and connects his mouth with your pussy. He moans, sucking your clit between his lips to make out with it needily. 
His drool runs down your folds and leaves you so messy for later. He can’t help it, you taste mouth-wateringly good. All cleaned of his cum and so intensely you. Jungkook swears he gets dizzy because of it. He missed your taste so much. So, so much.
“Fuck Bunny”, your voice trembles, just as your legs do, “my good Bunny, fuck you’re so good. Holy fuck”, you whispered at first but end up babbling the words as his quick tongue fucks your clit sensitive. 
Jungkook swears he will actually scream because of your praise. He loves it on normal days, but something about it today affects him like nothing else. He feels delirious from it, high and totally out of it. Perhaps it is because he had to be with it for seventeen days. Perhaps he is so starved for it, because his situation starved him. 
He slides his right hand from your waist and shifts a little so he could run his fingers down your folds. Your juices and his drool cover them instantly. He slides his left arm over your tummy, squeezes your side and pushes his fingers inside. Three at a time because you feel so ready for it. 
“Holy fuck. Ah!” 
You arch your back and pull his hair. 
“Jungkook.”
His name fell from your lips. Jungkook presses himself closer and curls his fingers needily. He is doing the best job. You only moan his name when he’s got you high on pleasure. 
Your right leg drops in the sheets because you didn’t have support anymore. You prop it again clumsily and roll your hips into him. 
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Oh god”, you chant, gasping for air repeatedly. 
Jungkook mewls and moans against your pussy. His mouth is pressed to your clit, his tongue is lapping at her in upwards motions. He moans each time he drags it down again and pulls another shake from your legs.
Your pussy is convulsing around his fingers, leaking constantly. Your favourite spot is so swollen under his fingertips. He would have to be a total idiot not to know where to touch because it is so fucking obvious to him. And oh how he touches you, how he makes sure that you get fucked so good now that his cock failed to do so. 
“Fuck Bunny”, your voice is slightly pitched, your fingers twist bundles of his hair, “I’m…close…mh ah.” 
Jungkook shakes in excitement. His instinct is to speed up, to do something different so you know how talented he is. But he knows better. You don’t want him to change anything, you want him to continue doing what he is doing right now. So he controls himself. He brings in your waist a little from his desperate grip and he moans against your pussy as his drooly mouth makes love to her. He curls his fingers where you need it most and he keeps pressing down on it as he rubs circles on it. 
You arch your back, twisting his hair because it is all that helps. You missed him so much. You missed his touch, his moans, his mouth on you. You are just as sensitive as him, closing your thighs around his head as the fire in your body gets too much.
“You’re making me cum”, you moan and drop in the sheets with a loud groan of his name. He drags his tongue up and breaks you. Your entire body is overtaken by the fire instantly, it feels most intense in your pussy. “ah Bunny, ah, aha, aah, oh god Bunny…”
Jungkook licks you through it, spilling tears of happiness because he is making you feel good and because he really missed feeling your orgasm on his tongue. You always throb and pulsate so much and it’s the best feeling ever. You’re squeezing his fingers so much, tightening in the most perfect ways. Jungkook fingers and licks and sucks you through it, moaning as if he was the one orgasming.
“Woah damn, wait”, you get out, tugging him away after the good turns bad because of overstimulation, “too much. Sensitive. Woah”, you add and twitch repeatedly.
“Mommy”, Jungkook gets out and kisses paths of admiration up your stomach. He pulls his fingers free, using them to hold you instead. To feel you up and remind his brain how it is to cradle you.
“Thank you so much”, he breathes, covering every inch of your stomach with kisses.
You enjoy it with closed eyes and your lungs working so hard to get air inside. Oh you feel so dizzy. This is going to take a while. 
Jungkook reappears from under the blanket, worshiping your chest now that every inch of your stomach has been adored. He cradles your breasts in his hands, kissing every inch of them with love and shaky breaths.  
“You’re such a good Bunny”, you whisper, feeling his lips tremble against your nipple. He takes it inside and sucks on it, mewling your name because you make him feel so good. He breaks away with yet another mewl of your name, kissing paths up to your neck.
His crotch meets your own, sharing the warm, sticky connection of good orgasms. He is soft, which lets you know that it will take a while for him as well. His tummy and chest are on top of yours, his elbows dimple the pillow beside your head. He hides away in the crook of your neck and begins kissing your sensitive skin. 
“I missed you so much”, he whispers and hugs you. 
Your head is cradled between his own head and the tensing muscles of his upper arm. His warm scent is so strong this way, his skin feels like heaven. You roll your head to the side so you could rub your nose against his head, and close your arms around him. 
“I missed you too”, you say and kiss his cheek, “my best Bunny, this was the loveliest way to wake up.” 
“Yeah”, he sighs, “it was so good. Mommy, can you praise me again?” 
You smile, hugging him closer, “my best Bunny, you’re such a good boy.” 
“Did I do a good job?”
“Yes Bunnybaby, you did the best job.”
Jungkook giggles, melting into you as he puts his weight on you. He wiggles happily, making you smile.
“You’re cute.”
“I love praise so much.”
“I know Bunny and you deserve it”, you say, listening to his happy giggles.
“I’m so happy to be home again”, he says and snuggles closer, “my Mommy. I missed you so much.” 
“Mhm yeah”, you agree and ruffle his hair, “you’re not leaving again. You’ll stay in my arms today.”
He giggles, “this is the best day ever.” 
2K notes · View notes
rogueddie · 8 months
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A gay bar is the last place Steve ever thought he'd be, yet here he sits.
He keeps looking over to Robin- not too much, just enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's still having fun. Although, he's sure he doesn't need to be worrying.
The girl who'd caught Robins eye is small, feminine. She looks like a sweetheart and she keeps getting Robin flustered. They're cute together, clearly into eachother, and Steve couldn't be happier.
Even sat alone, feeling completely out of place and a little uncomfortable, seeing Robin able to flirt with someone so openly is… he just feels relieved.
He should have thought to bring her here sooner.
"Hey there." The man smiles when Steve flinches. It's a soft smile, kind. "You wanna dance?"
"Oh, uh, I don't- I mean, uh-"
"Woah, don't panic. It's just a dance, right? You look uncomfortable is all and seeing you sat alone with your big fucking puppy dog eyes is just sad." He gently nudges Steves chin up when he tries to look down, feeling awkward. His finger lingers a little, brushing along his jaw. "You don't wanna have a fun night out? I won't be offended if you say no."
And, ok, Steve's a little tipsy. He's sure he'd never agree if he were sober- it wouldn't have felt fair. The guy is clearly attracted to him, not even trying to hide the way he's eyeing him.
But Steve's buzz is more annoying than pleasant and dancing does sound fun. So he agrees, accepts the hand offered and lets the guy pull him into the crowd.
The guy keeps his distance. Anytime the crowd jolts Steve toward him, he steps back the same amount, keeping a solid foot between them. But he's grinning, yelling jokes over the music, unabashedly dancing like an idiot.
It's great, it's fun. Steve can't stop grinning, stomach starting to ache with how much he's been laughing.
Eventually, a slower song comes on, stronger sexual undertones. The guy (Eddie, he'd leant in to tell Steve when asked, explaining that he knew Steve because they used to be in the same year as in Hawkins) shrugs, pulling an exaggerated face that screams 'what-can-you-do'. He's turning away.
But Steve grabs his wrist, Eddie looking back with raised eyebrows.
"This alright then, pretty boy?" He asks after stepping in close. His hands rest low on his hips.
Steve nods, flushing. He automatically puts his hands on his shoulders, letting Eddie lead him through a weirdly intimate sort of slow dance. And Steve is suprised to find himself… into it? He's not sure.
He feels less tipsy, so he can't blame the easy blushes or the way his stomach flips on the alcohol. There's no excuse for how he's started looking at Eddie either, paying a little too much attention to the way he moves, how his hands feel when they slowly start to wonder.
He gently brushes Eddies hair out the way without thinking, tucking it behind his ear so he can see the tattoo on his neck. Eddie tilts his head slightly, baring his neck a little more. When he glances up, Eddie is watching him, curiously.
"Hate to sound pressumptious," he drawls, taking a small step forward so their chests are pressed together, "but it feels like you're making moves on me, big boy."
"What if I am? What happens then?"
"Maybe I'd ask if you're sober enough to drive or if we need to call a cab." He leans back a little when Steve moves to kiss him. He hums, smirking. "Or maybe I'd ask for your number. I'm a classy lady, Harrington; what if I don't put out on the first date?"
"I've never said no to a challange."
Eddie barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle some of the people swaying beside them. "As if."
"What? You're like... pretty."
"Pretty," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "People know I'm a fag, Steve. Even being seen with me like we're 'just friends' would fucking ruin you."
"Your point?"
"You wouldn't dare."
"Wanna put money on that?"
Eddie eyes him for a second, his derision melting into curiosity. "You want to make a bet on whether you'll date me or not?"
"Why not? One of us wins money in a bet, we both score a date, and-"
"I thought you were straight."
"Yeah, me too. But I don't think straight guys think about you like I am, right now."
Eddie steps back, considering. It's a long, tense, moment before he finally sticks his hand out. Steve quickly shakes his hand, grinning.
"You've got yourself a deal."
3K notes · View notes
fangsandfeels · 4 months
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Quite often, I'm sad that Larian canned the original idea of letting origin characters narrate their story and choices. It gave such a nice flavor to their personal stories and their emotions during every encounter.
For instance, upon encountering a wounded illithid who tried to mind control them:
Astarion already fucking hates this thing - he growls as he describes it, he seethes. And then he almost sobs, when the mindflayer tries to force him to think he deserved to be whipped and flayed for resisting it. And it makes perfect sense for him to react like that -- not only does he hate any intrusion into his mind, but also, the mindflayer found his trigger and made him feel miserable.
Meanwhile, Shadowheart, in the same scene, sounds a lot more collected, and observant, detached even when the mindflayer pushes into her mind. Sharite training pays off - she has probably been prepared for such attacks and is ready to endure what it takes to fulfill her mission. She needs to keep her focus and press on.
Will is straight-up poetic. He doesn't narrate; he tells a story he is immersed in (and wants to get you immersed too). He doesn't hate the dying mindflayer -- he has no reason to, it's dying all the same. He is taken aback by the compulsion attempt, clearly processing the emotions the creature tries to drag him through, but he is still in control, clearly understanding what it's trying to do. And of course, he would be in control - he is an experienced monster hunter, he dealt with all kinds of creatures. He knows a mental attack when he sees one.
Oh, and Gale, Gale just brings that classy "stranded in another world log" vibe. He is one of those sci-fi protagonists who go through the horrors and wonders, but always narrate them in the calmest of voices because they can't afford losing focus and losing their cool. Of course, Gale is also sympathetic, and curious, and melancholic at times, but it's all contained. I don't know if it was intentional, but his lines conveyed the feeling of isolation despite being surrounded by people.
Yes, Amelia Tyler is perfect, but I feel like BG3 origin character playthroughs suffer from the same effect that Divinity: Original Sin 2 origin stories did -- aside from a couple of details, more personalized interactions, and a bit more insights related to personal quests, they blend together with custom character behavior a lot.
Narration by VAs would have added such a nice personal touch to every choice and decision - not to mention compensated for the lack of voiced dialogues.
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delulujuls · 3 months
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i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18
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am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me
he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him
summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way
warnings: none
pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll
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The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.
Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.
"Here, you can have mine."
The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.
"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."
"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."
The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.
"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."
"Really?"
While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.
"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"
"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."
The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.
"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."
She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.
"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"
Y/N scoffed and shook her head.
"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."
"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."
She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.
"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"
"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."
Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.
"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."
She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.
"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."
"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."
She sighed and shook her head.
"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."
"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"
He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.
"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"
"I'll try to meet that condition."
Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.
At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.
Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.
However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.
"There she is."
Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.
"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.
"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."
"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"
She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.
"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."
Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."
Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.
"Lance..."
Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.
"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."
He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Open the gift."
He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.
She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.
"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"
Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."
Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.
"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."
Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.
"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."
Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.
The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.
Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.
"Here you are."
The girl jumped, hearing his voice.
"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."
"I needed some fresh air."
Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.
"I can't believe we got tipsy."
Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.
"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."
Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.
"I'm glad you came."
"I'm glad you invited me."
"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."
Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."
Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."
The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
"You could be my girlfriend."
Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.
"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."
The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.
"I love you, Lance."
With love.
1K notes · View notes
cheeseceli · 8 months
Text
SKZ arguing over the bill
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Pairing: ot8!skz × gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff
Request: yes!
Warning: mentions of food, reader never pays lmao. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin's were heavily inspired by "Telling your Stray Kids boyfriend you can’t afford to eat out with them" by @ronnierites . If you don't allow this pls lemme know and I'll delete this post. Not proofread
A/n: that's kinda a new format, hope you guys like it! And this have been on my to do list since forever lol sorry for the wait
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Bang Chan
Doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable
But he wants to spoil you so badly
Would let you pay if you were uncomfortable but he wants to make sure you get it he would love to pay for you as well
"You know Chris, I can pay for it."
"I know."
"So?"
"I'd rather do it. But thank you baby."
"But-" you stopped talking once you saw his card swiping. You truly should be used at this point "oh."
"Why do I feel like you're unhappy?"
"It's not that I am not happy, it's just that you always pay."
"It's my pleasure."
"But I don't know, I don't want you to think you're being pressured or something like that."
"Babe, I don't feel like that at all. Don't you worry. You're always doing so much for me, that's just a little 'thank you' of mine."
You gave him a little smile and proceeded to hug him, feeling safe in his warmth.
"I'm so lucky to have you."
"I should be the one saying it."
Lee Know
Bro you don't even spare a chance
He's paying before you even have a chance to take your wallet out of your pocket
I'm surprised you even try tbh
"Should we ask for the bill?"
"Oh, I already paid for it, don't worry."
You looked dumbfounded at him while he was finishing his food. You didn't see him talk to a waiter and you're sure he didn't pay for it before you two had your meal.
"What? When?"
"When we were asking for the dishes. Didn't you see it?"
"No?" you tried to recall the moment with no success "Why would you pay? I feel bad that you pay for everything all the time. I don't feel like reciprocating enough."
His eyes soften and a little smile comes to his lips while he watches you pout. If only you knew how much you did for him.
"Hey, look at me. It's okay. You already reciprocate with everything you do. That's already perfect"
Changbin
He pays with the money, you pay back with kisses
Sorry but that's his boyfriend duty
He is physically incapable of not paying for everything
"Hey baby. I'm off work in 40 minutes. I'll pick you up so we can have lunch, okay?"
You were glad that for once you were on a voice call with him instead of being in a face time like you'd usually do. This way he didn't see the way your smile dropped so quickly.
"Um, I don't think I'll be able to."
"Oh? Why?"
"I'm kinda... broke right now. I haven't received my last payment yet."
"Okay? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't want you to be the one who always pays for our things. I should be able to pay sometimes."
"You don't need to. That's my boyfriend duty. You know I don't mind, I actually enjoy it quite a lot."
"Still bothers me though. I'd hate to not contribute at all."
"You can always cuddle with me and shower me with kisses. That will make me happier than anything money can buy."
Hyunjin
Stop he'll be like genuinely so sad if he can't pay
He would let you pay if you were really insistent
But then he'll go like :( and you would let him take the bill out of pity lmao
"Hyunjin, stop looking at me like that."
"But darling, I can pay. You know it doesn't bother me."
"Just this once, let me pay, okay?"
"Okay"
"...Jinnie I really need you to stop that."
"I'm not even doing anything."
"Oh God" you sigh and let your head fall, knowing the man beside you won the argument once more "Fine. You can pay."
He didn't waste a second, swiping his card as fast as possible just so you couldn't have the time to change your mind. After he payed the meal, he took your hand in his and started to walk in the direction of the restaurant's exit with a triumphant (and really sweet) smile.
"I swear I don't get why you like to pay so much."
"My love should be treated as royalty, and that includes me paying for everything you wish for."
Han
Bro is offended
Believes with all his heart that he should be the one paying
Tries to distract you when the time to pay comes
"Were you paying while I was in the restroom?"
"... perhaps."
"Han."
"Baby. You know I like to pay for you."
"But you do that all the time."
"It's my way of showing love! If you ask me, I actually don't think it's enough. It's the least I can do."
He could see in your eyes that you weren't convinced. Unfortunately (for you), he only saw that as an opportunity to spend even more money. Maybe then you would believe him.
"C'mon, lemme show you a little bit of love. You can pay me back with thousands of kisses if that's what's bothering you."
Felix
He loves to pay.
If he could, he would pay for absolutely everything that you could ever want or need.
But if that's something which really bothers you, he will let you pay as well
Tries to do that "the one who invites is the one who pays" thing and fails
"Felix. Don't even dare."
He looked at you confused until he realised you were staring at the credit card in his hand, probably hoping that it could disappear before the waiter came back with the bill.
"C'mon, it's just a small lunch. I can pay for it."
"No. I invited you. I pay."
"Actually, if you think about it, I'm the one who suggested this place."
"Two years ago."
"Still counts."
"Not as an invitation though. I'm the one who asked if you wanted to come here."
Felix sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince you of otherwise. If only he could.
"Okay. Next time it's on me."
Seungmin
LMAO sorry you're 100% not paying
Don't even try
Boyfriend duty pt 2 except he is even more dedicated somehow
"Why did you bring your wallet?"
"I wanted to pay for this one."
"... why?"
"You always pay for everything."
"And I don't plan on stopping so you can take your wallet away."
"Minnie, please. I don't want you to be the one who always end up paying for everything."
"But I want to. I wouldn't mind paying for every single thing for the rest of our lives. So you can't take your money away of my sight because I'm paying."
"For the rest of our lives huh?"
"Don't tease." But you didn't miss how the corners of his lips lifted once he thought you weren't looking anymore.
I.N
Rock, paper, scissors. The winner is the one who pays
It's funny and neither of you can complain about the outcome of it because it's technically fair
Except you always throw scissors first and never noticed it
And Jeongin doesn't have the heart to tell you
"We should change this game."
"No way" he said while giving the money to the cashier whilst trying to hide his grin from you "Not my fault you are horrible at this."
"Seriously though, I think you're cheating. It's impossible for you to win every single time."
"How does one cheat at 'rock, paper, scissors'? Besides, you won yesterday."
"After losing at least 50 times. And I got to pay for some ice cream. It's not the same as paying for a whole meal."
"Get better at this and maybe you get to pay for a whole meal one day. C'mon, we can have some milkshake now. Maybe you'll win this time."
You had a feeling you wouldn't though. He was sure you wouldn't.
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Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!
Dividers by @cafekitsune
3K notes · View notes
audisive · 3 months
Text
♪ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY.  sad girl alternative
౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader
synopsis: you've had a bad day, simon's there to fix it.
tags: comfort, crying, self-indulgent, fluff
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  Your head laid on the skin of his arm, your face pushed into the comfort of his chest. The sharp edges of your earrings – your favorite ones, he recalls – sank and dug into his skin meanly, but he couldn't care less. As disgusting as it sounds, it could not compare to the way his heart ached to protect your own when he hears you take sharp inhales just to exhale with a sob, sniffles occasionally there to accompany your weeping. It was anything but his priority with the way his arms tightened around you and the way he'd hoped it would be enough to ease your worries and take your pain away; pass it onto him if you must. Anything to make you feel better.
Oh, the things he'd be willing to but could not do to instead receive a painfully unfunny joke from you in the place of your sobs. He settles on wiping the tears off your face, knowing how it makes you feel when it dries and sticks to your skin uncomfortably. The small droplets were everywhere and increased with every passing minute, but he took the time to wipe them off one by one. Had you not been in agony, you would've been in awe at the way this gigantically scary man was being so gentle with you; it was one of the best reminders of how his heart belonged to you and how well he'd taken care of your own.
Simon holds you forever – at least that's what it feels like – and whispers sweet nothings into your ear to distract you, even just for a little bit. "'S fine," he reassures you, each word filled with promise and not an ounce of doubt. "You'll be okay, y'hear me? I got you." It's warm, and he still faintly smells of gun powder, mixed with the well-used cologne you'd bought him for his birthday last year. You don't pay any mind to the smell of tobacco lingering; you know it's not his.
You've long since learned – all thanks to him – to refrain from apologizing for your show of vulnerability and emotions. It leaves you guilty, still, eating you up at night with the knowledge of his uneasiness when it comes to emotions, but for him, nothing's better than learning to get over his fears with his one and only love. Love always makes us do things we don't want to, right?
His arms found the way to wrap themselves around you heavily like a weighted blanket hours ago and have continued to stay. It serves as a comfort for you, along with his words. In his sweater, his arms, his bed, his room. He's all you can see and all you can feel, but you're not complaining, and neither is he.
You calm down after a moment, letting your breathing grow steady while the wet spots of tears in his sweater dried up. Simon Riley hates to see you cry, but damn it if he can't be the one to comfort you.
"There's m' pretty girl," he whispers in that charmingly rough yet gentle voice of his, looking down at the way your lashes glisten with salty little tears when you find the strength to press your cheek to his chest instead of burying your face in the warm surface. "Feelin' better now, sweets?" He's so terribly sweet to and with you that you think you might cry again just because. You barely even nod, but you know he notices; he always does.
"Y'wanna talk about it?" His hand plants itself onto your back; it gives you a sense of stability. Everything about him is so large in a way that engulfs you whole, and it would terrify any sane person. Perhaps you aren't, not anymore, but you found the warmth and comfort of your home in him. He kisses your forehead without so much as a pause when you shake your head. "A'right, we'll jus' stay here, then."
And stay, you do, cuddled up against him. It doesn't take long before all the crying takes its toll on you, your head starts to hurt, and your eyelids start to give up. Before you know it, you're pulled into the deep depths of unconsciousness. It's too early into the night; you've skipped two meals, and you've worked yourself near death. You know full well that you'll wake up with a raging headache after crying yourself to sleep, too. You'll wake up too early in the morning; your muscles will be sore, and you're still starving. You might as well pass out immediately after waking up.
Still, you sleep at ease and without worry. Why would you not? Simon will be there to fix it. ♡
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  divider by @cafekitsune !
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3rosx · 1 month
Text
Boothill x Fem!Reader, angsty smut headcanons because his lightcone story was leaked and it's kinda sad so of course I had to make something out of it.
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Boothill likes kissing you, he likes the feeling of your warm mouth on his. The way his mechanical heart would need to run more power whenever you ask him to lean down so you could place your soft lips wherever you'd like, and the tingly feeling his face gets after you do. Because his head is the only thing left of him that's human, the only part of him that can feel things while the rest of his body is just a big chunk of metal and wires that keeps him functioning.
Boothill likes giving head, likes the feeling of your thighs squishing his cheeks when you squirm. He loves it when they shake right against him when you're close to cummin' and goes even harder on you just too feel those plushy legs suffocate him.
Boothill hates that his body doesn't feel anything, yes he does feel arousal, but it's different from the way normal people with normal parts do. When he get's aroused, his system gets all bugged and runs on more steam than usual. His metal body gets all hot, like a laptop that's been running for days. It didn't bother him that much at first, he just had to take a few breaks when he gets too hot when he's eating you out. It was fine at first.
But times goes on and he starts to wonder if you're fine with how things are, even though you assure him time and time again that you are okay with it. As long as it's him. But even if you're okay with it, there's still a thought in his head that he's not giving you enough. You deserve more than he could give you. You might be fine with it now, but who know? After a few or so years you might think that this arrangement isn't enough for you and leave him for someone who can, someone whole and not broken like him.
724 notes · View notes
literaila · 3 months
Text
eavesdropping
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: seriously, the door was already open
warnings: satoru is an idiot, as per usual, sad tsumiki :(
last part | next part
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*
year one.
satoru approaches the door to tsumiki’s room and he pauses. 
after two weeks straight with the kids, you’d finally returned back to work--leaving the three of them to fend for themselves for the day--but you'd insisted on coming over for dinner. 
to which satoru suggested, for the twentieth time, that you might as well stay the night. might as well move in already. 
really, there's plenty of space. 
but you'd pinched his arm and pushed past him at the door, telling the kids that you brought dinner. you didn't stay behind to watch satoru cradle his arm or smile at the back of your head. 
and, seriously, he doesn't mean to eavesdrop (if he meant to he would've planned out something much more sophisticated than this) but the door is already slightly cracked. 
“—but megumi doesn’t like it," he hears tsumiki say, soft and concerned. her tiny voice is a whisper through the opened door, so satoru takes another step towards it. 
“that’s okay," he hears your voice saying, "you can talk about it if you want.”
one eye appears through the crack and he can see you and tsumiki, curled up on the bed, her eyes looking up at yours, tear stains an obvious sin. 
satoru is quiet as he pushes the door, ever so slightly.
“he always ignores me when i talk about my mom or his dad, or he says something mean about them. sometimes he won’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”
this seems plausible. just five minutes ago satoru had witnessed an influx of cursed energy coming from megumi when tsumiki merely mentioned their old house and the dolls she kept on her windowsill. 
he can still feel that anger brewing now, but megumi, so you’ve said to him, needs to breathe. you didn't exactly tell him to exit the table and leave the little boy alone, or come to tsumiki's room to check on the two of you, but, he knows that's what you meant. you don't have to say something for satoru to help out. he’s just doing what’s best for all of you.
honestly, you probably wouldn't even mind that he's listening in on this conversation. 
you tilt your head at her. “did you ask him why?” 
tsumiki sniffles, she pushes a sticky hand at the hair matted to her head, so you gently push it away and move it for her instead, much gentler with her than you've ever been with him. satoru almost complains, before he remembers that he's not even there.
“he thinks that they don’t care about us,” tsumiki answers, the hurt obvious in her voice, "he—he can’t remember everything that i can, but he doesn’t care. he doesn't want to.” 
you coo at her softly, nodding your head with every word. 
satoru has never heard the little girl so sad--he's used to her smiling face and bright energy. honestly, if there's an opposite to cursed energy, it would be tsumiki. 
you must feel as disturbed by the difference in the little girl as he does because he watches as you try to restrain a frown. 
satoru's eyes are wide through the crack as you attempt a smile. “it’s okay to not feel the same,” you tell her, “wanting to remember your parents isn’t going to make megumi hate you.” 
“but it upsets him.” 
“well not talking about it upsets you, right?” you say this the same way you chide satoru. and, yeah, you typically know best. 
not that he'll ever admit that. 
but tsumiki nods.
“then you should talk about it. don’t worry about megumi. you can tell me about them, or satoru.” 
he wants to open the door completely just at the sound of his name. 
“really?” 
“you can talk about whatever you want with us. we’ll always listen," your smile is genuine now. 
satoru tries to imagine you as a little girl, with someone wiping your tears away. but he doesn't quite believe that you were ever as small as tsumiki looks now. you'll always be this to him, he supposes, safe and infallible. 
even when you were younger, blinking idly at him as he introduced himself to his new underclassmen, you were certain. he's always been sure about that. 
tsumiki frowns, her eyes wide. “gojo put his hands over his ears and started singing yesterday when you asked him to take the trash out.” 
he has to catch a laugh. you shift around on the bed, your face is stern but satoru can see you about to laugh. 
you nudge her with your head, teasing. “i didn’t say he always listens to me.” 
the little girl laughs as you nuzzle her nose and for a moment, satoru thinks he's invading. 
but how can he walk away when the two of you are cuddled so close, looking so cute together? he should probably take a picture, just so he can always remember this. 
but then again, a camera probably wouldn't capture the supple sound of tsumiki's laugh as you cuddle her, or your smile as you hold her closer. 
so he just stands there, observing. 
you don't say anything as the girl thinks, merely rub your hand up and down on her back, like a reminder that you're still there. 
tsumiki remains quiet for a moment, and then she whispers, “i’m afraid that i’ll forget about my mom." 
satoru is shocked by the statement, little pricks of guilt perusing through his chest. during all of the digging he did about toji zenin, he wasn't sure where the woman was, or if she was worth finding. he hadn't even thought of it, really. he wasn't very good at that. 
and he watches as you pause, feeling kind of eager to see how you'll respond. 
your hand continues its circles, and you smile, gently, knowing. “i used to feel that way too," you tell her, just as softly. 
and maybe that hurts satoru even more.
“really?” 
“yeah. i don’t talk to my mom anymore, but i used to worry that i would forget how she smelled," your nose falls in tsumiki's hair, and you pause for a moment. satoru almost smiles as you close your eyes. "or the way she hugged me," you add, squeezing. 
he's never really heard you talk about your parents before. the vauge comment here and there, sure, but nothing more. he knows the bare bones of when you left home—if only from what yaga told suguru, a million years ago, but nothing more. you don’t talk about that.
or maybe he's just never asked. 
tsumiki nods, her wide eyes kind of amazed at the confession. and satoru is suddenly glad that he let you follow tsumiki to her room, that he knocked on your door that first night when he wasn't sure what to do with either of them. 
you understand this better than he ever could. better than he ever will. 
“did you forget?”
you smile. “no. it’s hard to forget those little things, no matter how long it’s been," you consider it for a second, "i don’t remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name.” 
tsumiki's perks up, “do you think it’ll be like that for me?” 
“i don’t know, sweetheart. it could be. you might remember more than i do," you cup her face for a moment, hoping with her. 
“my mom always wore rose perfume,” tsumiki's hands cover your own, and she looks closely at you, like satoru wishes he could. “do you miss your mom?” 
satoru holds his breath for a moment, and your eyes narrow as you think. 
“sometimes," you admit.
“does it make you sad?” 
“every once in a while.“ 
tsumiki swallows, her face falling. “i miss my mom."
you kiss her head. satoru sees your eyes flutter closed as you speak to her, so softly he almost misses it. “it’s okay to be sad without them.” 
satoru closes his eyes with you, for just a moment. 
he thinks about aquariums and trips to abandoned houses and souvenirs that he couldn't keep but covet. 
and his eyes open again. 
“really?” tsumiki asks as if she doubts it.
“yeah. that’s just the way love comes out sometimes. it makes you sad.” 
“will it always?” 
“well, you’ll always love your mom, right?” the girl nods without thinking, and you smile at her. “then being without her will always make you a little sad. and sometimes a lot. but it’ll find its place in your heart, like everything does.” 
tsumiki thinks about this for a moment. 
satoru wants her to ask how many holes you have in your heart, and if you think they could ever be filled. 
and he also wants her to never ask you anything again. he shouldn't be listening to this, but he's stuck at the door. 
“do you think about your parents a lot?” 
“almost every day,” you say, looking away from the girl for a moment. and then you look back. “but i think about how my mom is happy where she is, and how i’m happy where i am.” 
satoru almost falls through the door. 
“you are?” 
“well yeah,” you say, obviously. you squeeze her a bit. “i’ve got you here. and megumi and satoru. how couldn’t i be happy?” 
tsumiki settles into you, she nods in agreement, but considers something, frowning up at you. “i don’t want megumi to be mad at me. he’s my best friend.”
“he’s not really mad,” you tell her--and, well, satoru disagrees. megumi is mad at everything. “and even if he was, he’ll always forgive you. that’s what best friends do. they argue and then make up.”
“who’s your best friend?”
your lip twitches. “satoru. and we fight all the time.” 
“really? gojo?” 
satoru wants to ask the same question. shoko, he might've assumed. nanami, even. if you knew he was there you would probably say that tsumiki was your best friend, just to mess with him. 
but he's there, and you don't know. 
you shake your head, acknowledging how crazy this statement is. “yup. i’m stuck with him.” 
“has he always been your best friend?” 
“oh no,” you laugh at the suggestion. “we met just a couple of years ago, at school. and he always had more friends than i did.” 
“…but now?” 
“he’s been my best friend for a while, i guess, but i haven’t been his for very long.” 
satoru frowns. 
“cause you always fight?” 
you laugh. “something like that.” 
something like what? 
and then you turn to her, eyes on eyes, making sure that she’s looking at you. “tsumiki, you know—“
and satoru thinks that he’s heard enough. he doesn't want any more secrets or any more questions. he closes the door as quietly as possible, letting his ear linger on the wood when he hears the two of you laugh. 
satoru sits for a moment, almost able to see your smile through the door, without all of his eyes, like he really took that picture. 
and then he walks away, into the dining room, where megumi is pushing his dinner around on a plate. 
satoru sits down. 
“what are they doing?” megumi asks, gruffly. he's calmer now, satoru notes, though grumpy as ever. 
“girl stuff.” 
“it’s dinner time.” 
“oh, megumi,” satoru tsks, shaking his head. “you’ve got lots to learn about women.” 
megumi frowns. “i know more than you.” 
“okay, i just came here to have a good time—“
*
later on, you’re unloading the dishwasher, trying to be quiet while the kids get ready for bed, and satoru walks in.
in striped pajamas naturally. no glasses. he is already grinning at you as he leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on the granite. 
you roll your eyes automatically, pushing him a little because he's in your way. 
"what, satoru?" 
“so, i’m your best friend, huh?” 
you turn. “i knew that door was open—“ 
*
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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months
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Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh
Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)
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Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG
Word count: 3.7 k
Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.
A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕
"I'm tired of using those things."
Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft. 
You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.
You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.
And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex. 
Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?
"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.
"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.
You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean…?"
The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.
"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"
Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.
"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea." 
"They are." 
The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked. 
And Simon never said he didn't want children.
It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch. 
He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.
Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…
It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. 
And it did. It more than just did.
He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.
Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.
You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late. 
It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.
But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.
He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby. 
That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours. 
Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon. 
But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.
Until this night…
This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar. 
You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.
And this time, he won't even let you play.
"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration. 
As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do. 
He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight. 
Serves the damn thing right…
You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.
You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.
The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.
His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.
And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.
You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.
The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.
"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.
"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.
You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world. 
He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear. 
You two worship each other; there’s no question about that. 
"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?" 
"Hell yeah."
The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that. 
You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.
A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.
His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.
And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts. 
His little helper, indeed…
"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"
His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.
He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…
"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."
He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.
"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."
Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.
"I'll manage," you whisper.
"I know you will."
The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.
He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.
"Wait–"
"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.
"The–the boys?"
He had been discussing this with his workmates…? 
Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?
"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."
This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.
"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.
"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."
The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting. 
"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"
He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.
"Right back at ya, darling."
"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.
"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave. 
"Love… fuckin' hell."
He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal. 
But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.
"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."
Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want. 
The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.
A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.
"Luv. You trust me?"
You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing. 
"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.
Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.
"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"
"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."
He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.
Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force. 
You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.
"Faster, Simon, please…" 
"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "
And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped. 
"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.
"Yes–give it to me, please–"
Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…
You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes. 
Simon–fuck…
There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come– 
Fuck–!
…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.
"Oh–oh fucking god…!" 
He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.
And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears. 
It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.
If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.
He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.
"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.
"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."
He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.
"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."
His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.
"Got a fair point there, love."
Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.
"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.
"That was the best."
He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.
"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."
"You think that did it..?"
He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.
"No half-assing with my sweetheart."
One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.
"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.
"I wouldn't say no to that."
You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.
And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."
Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.
And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"
After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...
There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.
"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.
"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.
"What if ice cream won't help?"
"I'll bring you chocolate."
You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor. 
"You're really not afraid…?"
"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."
"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."
"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.
"Simon... What made you change your mind?"
He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.
"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."
You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.
"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.
"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.
"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.
"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."
He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."
You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two. 
There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.
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