#anyways its been a long upsetting something of a day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lymtw · 14 days ago

Note

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

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pepshee · 2 months ago

Text

First Place

when you make a bet with your best friend—loser is forced to do what the winner wants—but his demands for you aren't exactly what you expected, but you're fully willing to comply.

Pairing - heeseung x fem!reader

Genre - friends with benefits, friends to ???, smut

Word count - 2k

Warnings - p in v, creampie, cliche, degrading (he calls reader a slut), fingering, mentions of other enha members, Mario kart mention, stripping, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N - I was gonna lowkey abandon writing but here I am.. back again... again, sorry if it's bad, and thank you to the anon in my inbox who gave me writing advice! i dont feel like using capitalization in this one so im not gonna... anyways.. enjoy! also yes im aware its kinda cliche

MDNI 18+

heeseung was always your best friend; he was always there when you needed him and vice versa. meeting him in high school was the best twist of fate ever. those four years would've ended up miserable had it been someone else.

there was a decent amount of girls after him, but that was never a bother. in fact, he was always your wingman, helping you find ways to ask out your crush without looking like a complete ditz. he had a couple of girlfriends throughout high school, but they never really lasted.

he was able to tell when you were upset and was somehow always able to pinpoint the reason. you'd never thought of him in a romantic light, although he was extremely attractive. it was like a forbidden fruit, something you were too scared to explore.

after graduation, applying to the same college as one another seemed scary. what if only one of you got in? what if neither of you got in? those worrying questions quickly disappeared when one day you both opened your results and found out you were both accepted.

he made new friends, and so did you, but one thing was that you never forgot each other. you both still regularly hung out and went to your usual coffee shops or shopping malls.

heeseung and his friends are at his dorm, and he had given you permission to come and go in his dorm without asking whenever you wanted whether he was there or not. his roommate, Jake, was hesitant about this at first, but just agreed to avoid drama, however, he grew to not mind it.

you were bored lying in your dorm room, so you got up to go to his dorm. upon walking in, you find him, his roommate, and his friends all huddled together in the living room, some on the couch, some on the floor, and the rest standing around. through a closer look, it wasn't hard to locate a couple of them, including heeseung, who were equipped with gaming controllers; they were playing video games.

one of his friends who wasn't playing hears the door opening and looks at you. you don't know his friends well, except for his roommate, but you did know their names.

the friend who saw you, jay, smirks upon noticing your presence. you didn't know the reason, but you just left it alone with a shrug of your shoulders. jay tapped heeseung—whose attention was occupied by whatever game it is that they're playing—and he replied without even looking away from the tv screen. "what is it? I'm trying to win, dude," he said. jay leaned into heeseung's ear and whispered something that you were unable to hear.

heeseung paused the game, earning him a few groans from his friends who also held controllers before turning his head to the door where you were standing. he smiled at you, "hey y/n! come here, we're all playing video games!" after walking over to him you both quickly realize there's no room on the couch for you to sit, but that problem didn't last very long. he hits his friend sitting next to him, sunghoon, not very hard but so sunghoon will know what heeseung is trying to get him to do.

sunghoon promptly got up, before you even got time to process him getting up, heeseung grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit down next to him on the couch. it wasn't hard to notice the looks and smirks his friends gave each other once he did this, but you didn't think anything of it.

"why'd you show up to my dorm this time?" he looked at you, the game still paused, but it seemed his friends were more focused on you two rather than the game now. you let out a small laugh at his comment, "i got bored so i came here, but you're already busy i see." he shakes his head, "i'm not busy, we're just playing games, now watch me win," he smirks, he's always been quite cocky but it's part of his charm.

he unpaused it and continued the competitive game with an intense focus. after a bit, the game was over, and well, heeseung didn't win, but that's not important. he throws a playful fit about losing, and after a bit, he turns to you. "hey, lets play the hardest map on mario kart and whoever loses gets to boss the loser around, but it's just us two," he grins at his own idea, hoping you accept.

he almost cheers when he sees you nod, and signals one of his friends to hand you a controller. he selects the map, and as the game starts, he's completely in the zone; he really wants to win, to have power over you.

after crossing the finish line for the final time, heeseung had won, which makes you let out a groan of disapproval. his friends all laugh as heeseung lightly pushes and teases you. "I knew you were a loser!" he teases, making you hit him on the shoulder. "knock it off, i hate you, you have more experience!" you argue back, and he just laughs.

"okay so now I get to tell you what to do," he smirks. you roll your eyes, but he suddenly shooes his friends out of his dorm while they shoot him knowing looks, and mocking kissing gestures. it's like they know something you don't, which makes you nervous. why would they leave that easily?

after they had left, heeseung shifts around in his seat and turns back to you. "so.. now I need to think about what I'm gonna make you do.. maybe me and jakes dishes? the laundry?" he says, basically talking to himself. he just sits there thinking for a moment, occasionally throwing out random ideas until his face changes, finally landing on one. "y/n, we've been friends for a long time, yeah?" you nod, waiting for him to continue. "you know.. you're really pretty, and I think I've made my decision..." your heart flutters for a second at the tone he used; he never really talked to you like this before. he's told you you're pretty, but the way he said it this time was different.

"strip for me," his tone completely serious, lacking any bit of sarcasm or signs that he's joking. your eyes go wide, and you look at him, bewildered at what he chose. "seriously? strip? hee—" he stopped you before you could finish, "I'm serious, I've always felt something towards you, this is my opportunity, I choose for you to strip," his tone lowering, you can see the desire and the hunger written in his eyes.

through your utter shock, you take a moment to think, he is attractive.. you've always thought he was. what's the harm in this? why not just do it?

you started by removing your hoodie. once he realized you were down for his demands, he couldn't look away. then you removed your shirt, followed by your pants, now just leaving you in your bra and underwear. heeseung was just sitting back, manspreading, smirking at you. he'd never seen you so exposed like this before. "so pretty, your body is so sexy," he commented, you could see the growing bulge in his grey sweatpants.

suddenly, he stood up, grabbing your wrist dragging you to his bed before promptly pushing you down onto it. he quickly crawled on top of you and smashed his lips onto yours. it was unexpected but not unwelcome as you kissed him back and moved one of your hands to bury your fingers in his hair. as the kiss continued, your grip on his hair got tighter, earning a groan from him, while one of his hands explored your thighs.

his hand made its way to the wet patch on your panties, touching you over the cotton. this caused you to let out a whine at the feeling; you wanted more, wanted him to touch you more. he clearly noticed this, "beg for it," he demanded. he clearly wasn't going to give it to you that easily even though it was his idea. "please heeseung, touch my pussy, please.." your pleas made his cock twitch in his boxers, he finally took your panties completely off, sliding them down your legs.

he ran his fingers slowly and teasingly through your already wet and slick folds. "all this for me? didn't think you loved the idea of fucking your best friend so much, you're just a slut aren't you?" his degrading words just fueled your desire for his cock even more even though it probably shouldn't.

he slowly inserted one finger into your cunt, the feeling causing a small moan to release itself from your mouth. he then added a second one and started out slowly moving his fingers in and out of your hole, but then he sped up and even curled the slightly making them hit your g-spot at just the right angle. you moaned at the pleasure that took over you as he continued to scissor his fingers inside of you. his thumb started to rub your clit further stimulating your pussy.

"heeseung im s' close—" he removed his fingers without warning, making you whine at the newfound emptiness. before you could even question, he removed his sweatpants and his shirt. you could feel the drool forming at the sight of his chest and physique, but then your eyes landed on something even more exciting, the stain on his boxers due to his leaking cock.

he removed his boxers next, his large cock springing out, the sight of it made your eyes widen. how would he even fit? "it'll fit baby, don't worry, I'll make it fit," he said almost as if he had read your mind. he ran the tip of his cock through your slick folds and gave himself a couple strokes before finally lining himself up with your entrance. "i'm gonna fuck this pussy so good you hear me?"

he was so eager he didn't even go slow this time; he immediately rammed himself into you, enjoying the sight of the slight bulge he created on your stomach. he pulled out almost fully before thrusting back in, he repeated this process, making you a moaning mess. it was hard to tell where one of you started and where the other ended, "seungie- p-please.. keep going," you begged him, and he listened. he wasn't going to stop until you both came. you could feel his tip grazing your cervix, his cock stretching your pussy so good. you'd had sex before, but you could already tell heeseung is the best you'll ever get.

"come on baby, i know you're close, you like this don't you? like being my little slut," he was right, you did like it, you were close, he knew how to read you like an open book. "gonna cum—" is all you could manage to get out as the pleasure took over you making it almost impossible to form coherent sentences. not long after your words you let go, your release painting his cock forming a white ring at his base as he continued his thrusts chasing his own orgasm. "hold on love, i'm almost there, you can take it," he encouraged. his thrusts started to grow sloppy; he was close. finally, he came, his release painting the inside of your gummy walls. you'd never had anyone cum in you, you'd always had them pull out, but heeseung was different. you wanted him to cum in you.

he rolled off of you, now lying beside you as he brushed a sweaty strand of your hair out of your face. he looked at your bra still covering your tits, he leaned in to your ear and whispered "next time, I'm gonna fuck these pretty tits. I was so caught up with your pussy your poor boobs didn't get any love," he said almost sounding genuinely upset and sympathetic for them.

you wanted to ask what you two were now, but a pang of fear hit you; you were scared of his answer, so you decided to stay silent. you wanted to stay awake, but exhaustion was catching up. no matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn't. you finally closed your eyes and fell asleep, heseung followed soon after.

i hope you all liked it!! i'm not too confident about this one but yk.. anyways, this is only like the 4th evber fic ive ever written..... im aware its kinda fast paced, i did rush it oops....

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comikbook · 3 months ago

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so you talk about your religious trauma and it’s a major theme in your art, and i was wondering what your current relationship with religion is? is in, do you practice any religion or consider yourself religious? if it isn’t too personal :)

im willing to answer !! i dont talk about it on most of my socials outright because people tend to misinterpret things intensely when it comes to this kind of topic, but ill give it a shot trying to write it out. In fact, I will give the whole story of my experience with religion. So its gonna be long.

there will be talk of psychosis, eating disorders, delusions, and self harm in this post. However I will not be graphic in my descriptions.

To start out I suppose for context, my parents are not catholic. my mom doesn’t talk about religion, and my dad doesnt follow anything in the real sense, but practices a lot of principals of buddhism. My nana was catholic, and my extended family vary in their religious beliefs.

That being said, (i think to my nana’s influence) when i started school i attended a small private catholic school which has since been shut down. fun fact ! if you’ve ever watched the Netflix doc “The Keepers” my school was only about 3 miles from where one of the nun’s bodies were found. The priest who was suspected to be the one to blame previously taught at the school i went to before moving to the one he is known for teaching at. Not really relevant, but i did always feel a bit uneasy there as a child so it was a weird thing to find out later.

Anyways, I attended this catholic school for 3 years. pre-k, kindergarden, and first grade. I would often ask to use the restroom and just wander around the halls or hide in the bathroom. I would get scolded for asking questions that were “inappropriate”. The one i remember most vividly was “If God created all of us, who created God ?” to one of the nuns, who became upset with me. We weren’t taught whar we should have been, and when I did move to public school i was far behind my peers in specifically science, math, and history, but I digress. This is my one class photo from our yearbook !

It is important to note that my first remembered instance of psychosis started when i attended this private school. My mom was picking me up one day, there was heavy traffic. She was trying to get over and was complaining no one would let her. I caught myself staring at my reflection in the front mirror of the car, and the clicking of the blinker kind of overwhelmed me. In the constant clicking I “decoded” a message that involved me being told to do something particularly violent. In my small brain in addition to my outside influences, I thought the person that sent this message to me was God. I was confused as to why, but I felt i did something wrong to deserve it. i quietly prayed in the back seat internally for forgiveness.

So I started to receive more messages from “God” commanding me to do something or another, typically vile in some way. i would hear this voice in my head frequently, until eventually it faded out and stopped. I dont remember when it stopped, i just remember i had this experience as a child and then when i was a little older i just didnt think about it anymore.

I do have gaps in my memory of my childhood, pretty big ones, for reasons im still struggling to understand to this day. So that makes things fuzzy. I do remember falling back into religion briefly in middle school, but eventually fell out of it again.

As i approached the end of highschool my mental health was tanking. Mostly with depression and anxiety, however this wouldnt be the worst it would get. In 2019 I was in college and things were getting increasingly worse. I was one of the few people that loved the isolation of the quarantine actually, i fear if not for that what was to come would have been way worse.

My symptoms of psychosis started to creep back into my life. I was already isolating before the quarantine, but got worse after it had started. I know i said i enjoyed it, and i did, but it also fed into some bad habits. Anyways I was becoming increasingly scared and paranoid, I was actively self harming, I was extremely depressed. I had plans to take my own life, a few of them actually. I started eating less. I didnt think much of it, I was just depressed, i have been depressed most of my life so this was just a particularly bad bout for me is what i thought.

That is, until one night where I had my first psychotic episode. It remains to be the worst and only very big episode i have had. I dealt with it mostly alone, never alerting my family of it. I was on the phone with one friend i had at the time, although they were not the kindest to me overall. Despite that they sat with me. This episode led to me standing in one place for over 2 hours too scared to move. When I finally did, it seemed to trigger a more violent outburst.

I wont go into too much detail but i left the experience cried out, bloodied, and heavily bruised. My legs were entirely black and blue for over a month following. After this episode I finally decided to try to get help, and I met with my psychiatrist for the first time. I was immediately put on several antidepressants which ended up being beneficial but in the beginning caused me to lose my appetite entirely. This is when i fell more and more into my eating disorder. With this though, I was still experiencing delusions and hallucinations and got put on my first antipsychotic.

It helped with my symptoms, and it helped me get back to a normal weight. Even tho at the time I was abusing my adderall I was still able to get my body (mostly) back to normal, at least physically. That being said, while my symptoms were lessened they were not gone, it just became less scary to me. Maybe it was because I was being desensitized, but thats something to ponder another time.

I started to become more and more infatuated with catholicism again from that original episode forward. I was obsessed and that voice of god returned to me. I started hearing clicking and chirping coming from the back of my right ear, which ive dubbed as a “chip” in my brain placed by god for me to receive his messages. I thought there was an evil inside of me that needed to be let out, which i did by participating in frequent bloodletting to force out the bad, and make my body create newer, cleaner, and holier blood. This was something i felt I had to keep up often so that this evil force wouldnt take over. I was eventually able to stop self harming, and have been clean for over 2 years now. It is hard and i still feel the need to “cleanse” myself, but i try my best to push it down.

Fast foreward to 2022 and I would start the first piece in my painting series. I still experienced symptoms but much less frequently ! I started to detail my experience thru art. I would finish the first piece in my series titled “Forgive Me Father” in 2023. Since then I have made many more.

So we finally get to today. I have waited to talk about my current relationship with religion until the end as I felt the context was necessary, and to be honest it is complicated. As you can tell, It has effected me greatly and has come and gone in my life.

I would say from where I am now, I am not religious. A better way to put it i suppose is i consciously make the choice to not be. Like I said its complicated.

I like to think of it as there is two of me in my body. One is paranoid, scared, and extremely delusional. This is the part that still believes god is communicating with them. This is the person that still prays for forgiveness and cries over the fear of being sent to hell for their sins, all approved and constructed by god himself. and then theres my rational side, which exists im sure solely because of my medication. This part is extremely self aware, can tell when i am being delusional or irrational, who knows this is something caused by my illness. They exist side by side, at the same time, always. They fight in my head for control but always exist simultaniously, think of it like a pie chart. one may be more prevelant but the other is still always there.

So in a way, there is a lot I do personally believe. That being said the reason I do believe is because of my schizophrenia. So I choose to navigate my life as someone who actively does not believe as an attempt to not let the delusion control me. do i think people who are religious are delusional ? I do not, but I know in my personal case what leads me to believe these things is an unwell mind.

I still have an intense fascination with catholicism and religion in general. I think its a beautiful thing, it moves me, but i must keep it at a distance to avoid hurting me. It is not something I can actively engage in outside of general interest because it would kill me, and despite my previous statements i would like to live at least a little longer haha.

With all that said, and I doubt anyone will read this whole thing, its been a rollercoaster of a ride. If anyone has questions about it, feel free to ask. Im an open book about this stuff online most days, and Im willing to offer any information about it.

#my art #in gods hands #psychosis #mental health #mental heath awareness #schizophrenia #schizophrenic #psychosis awareness #religious delusions #religious trauma #mental illness #writing

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

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hi!! if you’re up for it could i please request a poly marauders (or really any of the marauders) x passively depressed/apathetic reader. like reader being nervous about a doctors appointment and having health anxiety but then saying “oh i don’t even know why i’m scared because it’s not like i’ll care if i die,” and the boys just being like ??? just a lot of comfort pls!! love your work btw!! (sorry if that’s kinda confusing 😖 english isn’t my first language)

Thanks lovely <3

cw: depression, reader has some passive suicidal ideation but it's from an outside perspective

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 850 words

Remus rubs your shoulder after you get off the phone call confirming your doctor’s appointment. You sink into his side like dough softening at rest. “Would you like me to go with you?” he offers.

You hum, quiet and complaisant. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind. It’s after I get off work anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So what else would I be doing but being with you?” He says it with some levity, hoping to inspire a similar feeling in you, but you don’t crack a smile.

Instead, you sink deeper into his side, the collar of your jumper rising up to bump your chin in the process. You look like a tortoise retreating into its shell. Remus kisses your hair.

You’ve been rather in your own head lately. Quiet, passive, not really laughing. It tears at Remus’ heart to see you so upset with yourself, but he’s not very worried. You’ll come out of it. He’ll help you. And he’ll be here with you in the meantime. Even if it doesn’t always seem like you care for him to be.

“Do you not want me to come?” he asks, trying not to let insecurity leak into his tone.

“No.” You finally look up at him, your sweet eyes guilty. “No, I’d like you to come. If you want to. I just, I know it’s not fun, so if you’d rather stay home…”

Remus makes a dismissive sound, relieved. “Don’t be silly, I always have fun with you. Sweetheart, you could make the doctor’s office fun.”

This time you hear the humor in his tone and smile. It looks like it costs you some effort. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He shushes your thanks away, going back to rubbing your shoulder. “Are you nervous?” he asks.

You sigh as though disappointed with yourself. “Yeah. I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, lovely. It’s not how anyone wants to spend their time. And you always worry that something awful’s going to be wrong, but it never is.”

“I know,” you say dully. “But I don’t get why I’m worried. I don’t even really…”

You trail off, your mouth wincing like you wish you hadn’t said anything at all. You won’t look at Remus.

He knows what you wanted to say.

I don’t even really care.

You don’t care about much these days. What you eat for dinner, how long your commute from work takes, what film your friends want to see at the cinema. But Remus thought you still cared about some things. The important ones. A heavy, sick feeling takes form in his stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly. It takes you a few moments to look at him, but you do. You look the tiniest bit afraid. Not in the same way he is; not for yourself, only for what you might’ve revealed. “Can I give you a hug?”

You frown, nodding like of course. Remus uses the arm already around your shoulders to bring you into his lap, your knees folded on either side of his hips. When he rubs your back, you curl forward to put your face in his neck like you’ve been waiting years to do it.

Your warm breaths tickle against his skin. He loves you so much he thinks he could collapse under the weight of it.

“Thank you for making the appointment,” he says, making broad, sweeping circles on your back. “It matters to me that you’re healthy, and that you’re taking care of yourself. It’s important.”

You deflate a bit against his front. He can nearly picture you shutting your eyes, brows pinched. “Remus…”

“I love you,” he presses his lips to the side of your head, “so much. We’re going to be old and feeding birds in the park one day, you know? I need you to be able to come sit on our bench with me.”

There’s a prolonged silence, wherein Remus begins to worry he’s frightened you into reticence, but then, “We already feed birds in the park.”

He smiles. “We do. But it’ll be much more becoming when we’re all feeble and grey, won’t it?”

“You’re feeble now.”

“Oi,” he laughs. Utterly delighted with you. “When did you get so sharp?”

“Sorry.” Your cold nose bumps his throat.

“That’s alright.” Remus kisses your head again, not wanting you to begin feeling guilty. “I know you don’t mean it. My sweetheart.”

You go quiet again after that. Remus tries again.

“So, it’s a date then? Me, you, park on the corner in fifty years?”

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” you mumble lazily.

“Mm, do that. See if you can pencil me in.” He rubs your back.

“Who knows if there’ll even still be birds then.”

Remus hums. “God, yeah. I hope there are. We’ll still be there, at least, won’t we?”

It’s transparent, this plea for reassurance. He cringes with the audaciousness of it, worries you’ll decide now to stop sharing anything with him at all, but after a beat of quiet you sit up.

“Yeah,” you murmur, laying a simple kiss on his lips. “Course we will.”

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 4 months ago

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What about Wally Clark with a reader who’s kind of the opposite of him. Like he’s very outgoing and friendly but she’s very reserved and quiet. She doesn’t like socializing much and kind of stays to herself, so when she dies at Split River no one really noticed, which did upset her but she also doesn’t talk about it. Then one day after a session with mr martin, Wally overhears him talking to Janet about how he feels like she really wont open up and that its a little concerning. So Wally decides to build a friendship with her, which proves to be really difficult at first since she doesn’t like to socialize at all. But after a bit he starts to kind of naturally gravitate toward you, and gets you to actually open up to him which makes him very happy.

In the Silence

Synopsis: In which Wally Clark doesn’t give up on you, and his hard work pays off.

The thing about Wally Clark was that he never gave up.

It was something everyone in Split River knew about him, something that stuck even after death. He was persistent, always moving forward, always finding a way to make people laugh, to bring people together.

And then there was her.

She was quiet. Kept to herself. The kind of person people didn’t really notice, even when she was alive. And after she died? It was like she had never existed at all.

She didn’t talk about it, but Wally knew. He heard things. Overheard things. Like today, after Mr. Martin’s session, when he lingered near the door just long enough to catch his voice drifting through the walls.

“She won’t open up,” Mr. Martin said. “It’s concerning.”

“Some people are just like that,” Janet replied, but there was something in her tone—like even she wasn’t sure.

Wally frowned.

He had never spoken to her much. Not because he didn’t want to, but because she made it clear she didn’t want anyone to. She was like a shadow, always on the edges, always looking like she had more to say but never saying it.

But Wally liked a challenge.

So the next day, he found her sitting alone near the bleachers, staring out at nothing in particular.

“Hey, stranger,” he said, grinning.

She barely acknowledged him. Just a slow blink, a flicker of surprise before she turned back to whatever she was thinking about.

He sat down next to her anyway.

“You come here often?” he teased, nudging her lightly.

Silence.

Wally was used to people talking back, laughing, meeting his energy. She didn’t. She just sat there, arms wrapped around herself, making it very clear that this was her space, and he was intruding.

But Wally Clark didn’t scare easy.

So he kept trying.

⸻

It wasn’t easy.

She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it was short answers. Simple. To the point. If she had her way, she probably would’ve ignored him forever.

But Wally had patience.

He started sitting with her whenever he could, whether she liked it or not. He talked, and she listened. Told her stories about his life, about football games, about dumb things he and the guys used to do. He didn’t know if she actually cared, but she never told him to stop.

And somewhere along the way, it became natural.

She never talked about herself, but she listened. Really listened. And for someone like Wally, who was always loud, always laughing, always the center of attention—it was kind of nice.

So he kept talking.

Kept filling the silence.

And then, one day, everything changed.

⸻

They were sitting on the bleachers again. Wally had been talking for a while—about practice, about parties, about the way death hadn’t really hit him until he realized he’d never actually get to grow up.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You ever think about that? Like… what you would’ve done if you had more time?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at him.

Her hands were clenched in her lap, fingers digging into the fabric of her sweater. Her shoulders were stiff, like she was holding something back.

Wally hesitated.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer.

That was all it took.

She broke.

It wasn’t just a few tears. It was everything. A flood of emotions that had been buried for too long, crashing down all at once. Her shoulders shook, and before Wally even knew what he was doing, he moved closer, pulling her into a hug.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, holding her as she sobbed. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. She just held on, gripping his shirt like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

And for once, Wally Clark didn’t try to fill the silence.

He just stayed.

#wally school spirits #school spirits wally #school spirits x reader #wally clark x reader #wally clark #milo manheim x reader #milo manheim #milo manheim fanfiction

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yourlittlegoblin · 30 days ago

Text

How they show love without saying it

SOrry that I was gone for so long gang

Pls forgive me

Here is how I think tall Genshin men would show their love

Pls enjoy

Its long af

Also minors DNI as there are NSFW themes mentioned and explored here so for your safety and developmental health DO NOT READ THIS!!!

✦ Diluc

Acts of service are his primary love language. He’ll quietly fix things around your home. Your broken lamp, a creaky door, even your cracked tea mug—and never say a word about it.

He memorizes your daily routine, making sure your path is always well-lit at night, and there's always hot tea waiting if you're late.

When you come home whining and crying about how stressful everything’s been, how your boss was a fucking nightmare and nothing's going right, Diluc just listens at first—stoic, quiet, pulling you close like always. But comfort only goes so far. He knows exactly what you need, and it’s not tea. It’s him dragging you to the bed, spreading your legs, and eating you out like it’s the only thing that’ll fix you. He holds your thighs down, tongue deep and slow, making you sob from the overstimulation until your eyes are glassy and your voice breaks—because if you’re going to cry, it sure as hell won’t be from work.

You never ask him to walk you home, but he shows up anyway—silent beside you, but his presence says, I worry, I care, I’m here.

When he hears you’re sick, you just wake up to a stockpile of medicine, soup, and blankets, all with no note. Just a faint scent of his cologne left behind.

He’s bad with words, but his gaze lingers. Longer than it should. And when you look back, he looks away.

✦ Kaeya

He flirts with everyone, but the way he remembers the small things about you—your favorite fruit, that one story you told in passing—is how he truly shows affection.

Always has a spare coat or handkerchief ready. Not that he’ll admit he brought it for you. “You just looked cold, sunshine.”

He flirts with the whole damn tavern, but the second you’re alone in the alley out back, he proves just how little anyone else matters. You're barely able to catch your breath from the walk there before he’s got you pressed up against the cold wall, dress rucked up, panties shoved aside, and his cock buried deep. He holds your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist, his breath hot against your ear as he fucks you hard and fast from behind. The bar's music still thumps through the walls, but all you can hear is the wet slap of skin and your own breathy moans as he drives into you like he’s been waiting all night. You wanted his attention? Now you’ve got it—and he’s going to make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.

If someone dares upset you, they mysteriously have a very bad day soon after. He never confirms it, but his smug smile says enough.

He buys two drinks from Good Hunter—your order and his—without asking. Just slides it toward you while pretending it’s no big deal.

He walks on the outer side of the road, always between you and any danger. Never says why. Never will.

✦ Zhongli

He speaks poetically, but the love is in his constancy. He shows it in the way he listens to you—truly listens. No interruptions, no drifting attention.

Keeps you out of the rain with his umbrella—so subtly that you don’t notice until you’re dry and he’s half-soaked.

He’s slow, deliberate, reverent—your body worshipped like something ancient and sacred beneath him. In the soft golden light of your shared bedroom, he moves with purpose, hips rolling deep into you, slow enough to make you whine for more. He kisses every inch of your skin like a vow, hands firm on your thighs as he splits you open with such aching care. And when he finally presses a kiss just below your navel—right over your womb—you feel it in your soul. It’s not just sex with him, it’s devotion. He’s filling you with more than just his cock—he’s pouring every ounce of love, want, and need into you until you’re trembling beneath him, completely and utterly his.

He always remembers what flowers you like and places them in vases around your shared space without saying a word.

Brings you warm tea just when you're thinking about it. Every single time.

If you're anxious, he’ll place a grounding hand on your back or shoulder—no words, just silent strength.

✦ Childe (Tartaglia)

He’s loud and dramatic, but his true love comes through in his protectiveness. He’ll keep a casual arm around your waist when walking in public—not just for affection, but to keep you close.

Teaches you how to fight—not to make you a soldier, but because he wants you to be safe when he’s not there.

He’s loud, cocky, and loves to show off—but when he’s got you on your back with your legs over his shoulders, he gets real serious, real fast. After a long day of spoiling you and hauling your bags like the overprotective bastard he is, he ends it by fucking you like it’s a war he's winning. He slams into you with wild precision, rough enough to make the headboard crack against the wall, grinning every time you moan his name like a prayer. When you’re shaking and crying out, nails digging into his back, he leans down, sweat dripping off his jaw, and growls about how tight you are—how no one else will ever get you like this. Not when you're this full, this ruined, this his.

Whenever he travels, he brings back something small for you. A trinket, a snack, a funny story. “Saw this and thought of you. Weird, huh?”

You never carry heavy bags when he’s around. He snatches them from your hand with a scoff, “What kind of guy would I be if I let you do all the work?”

Late at night, when he thinks you’re asleep, he strokes your hair and murmurs how much you mean to him.

✦ Baizhu

He checks on your health constantly, but in soft, non-intrusive ways—subtle glances at your hands for signs of stress, casual questions about your sleep patterns.

Slips herbal sweets or calming tea into your bag without telling you. Just in case.

He handles you like a fragile prescription—careful, methodical, but with a knowing touch that always lands exactly where you need it. You come to him aching, worn down, and he insists on giving you a "full-body remedy." He spreads your legs on his clinic table like he’s preparing for an exam, fingers slow and deep inside you, stroking places that make your back arch. He talks you through every pulse and tremble, voice low and clinical, even as you're gasping for more. And when his cock finally slides in, it’s a slow, thorough treatment—his hips grinding deep as he murmurs about how good you're taking it, how your body’s responding perfectly. It’s filthy and tender all at once—Baizhu doesn’t just fuck you, he treats you, and you leave that table ruined in all the right ways.

Always has a warm cloth ready if your hands are cold. Holds them gently like he’s diagnosing the soul.

If you mention a minor ache or issue, the next day there’s a custom remedy made “for a patient” that just happens to be perfect for you.

Doesn’t always say “I love you,” but he adjusts his schedule to make time for you—something he does for no one else.

✦ Ayato

A master of keeping feelings hidden, so his love shows in how he makes space for you in his world—in his schedule, in his home, in his heart.

Silently ensures your favorite dessert is served at every gathering he hosts. Even if you say you don’t want anything, it’s there.

He’s polished, composed, always one step ahead—but when the doors are locked and your knees are on the edge of his expensive desk, he fucks you like you’re the only thing that ever made him lose control. He doesn't rush—no, Ayato devours you with finesse, hips grinding in deep, slow circles that leave you trembling. Your cries echo off lacquered walls, but he doesn’t care. He slides a hand into your hair, tilts your head back, and keeps going until your legs shake and you’re clenching around him like you’ll break. He’ll go right back to attending meetings with his usual calm after, but the bruises on your hips and the mess on his pristine shirt say otherwise—because you are his favorite secret to indulge in.

He’s always busy, yet if you text him late at night, he replies instantly—even if it’s just an emoji or a single-word response, it means you come first.

You’ll never see him panic, but when you’re upset, he’ll appear by your side with your favorite book, a cup of tea, and a quiet smile.

He doesn’t talk about you publicly, but his subordinates know: if it involves you, it matters.

✦ Thoma

The king of quiet caretaking. You’ll never have to do chores around him—he’ll cook, clean, and hum while doing it all, smiling softly when you offer to help.

If you’re having a bad day, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong—he just makes your comfort food, lights a candle, and sits beside you with patience.

He’s the kindest man you know, always cleaning up after you, doting like it’s second nature—but when he gets you alone, he’s dangerously sweet. He has you bent over the kitchen counter he just wiped clean, fucking you from behind with a low groan in your ear, your apron still half-on and your moans muffled by your own forearm. He grips your waist like he’s holding you together, thrusts steady and deep, muttering soft praises about how good you feel, how perfect you are for him. And when you start to fall apart, he wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you upright like the good boy he is—always taking care of you, even when he’s fucking the life out of you.

Keeps a list of all your likes and dislikes in his head and plans around them. The weather’s cold? He already packed your scarf.

Always brings back something small from his errands—flowers, snacks, a shiny rock he thought you’d find cool.

He says “take care” like he means “please don’t get hurt, I’m begging you.”

✦ Itto

He’s loud, chaotic, and messy—but his love is in his loyalty and pride in you. You’re his favorite topic. If someone asks about his gang, he ends up bragging about you instead.

Will fight anyone who so much as jokes about you in a weird tone. Immediately. Doesn’t care who it is.

He’s all bark and biceps until he’s got you pinned under him, rutting into you like he’s got something to prove—and he does. You’re his, and he’s gonna fuck you like he wants the whole neighborhood to know. The bed creaks, the headboard bangs, and you’re gripping the sheets like your life depends on it while he keeps pounding into you with wild, relentless thrusts. He moans loud, praises you louder, and when you start crying from the stretch and the pressure, he just grins, wipes your tears with his thumb, and keeps going. “Look at you, takin’ all of me like a champ,” he’d say if he wasn’t too busy making you scream his name into the damn mattress.

Shares his food with you, even if it’s his last dango milk. That’s a big deal.

Tries (and fails) to do things like write you poems or make handmade gifts. They’re usually bad—but endearing in the way he gets so excited to show you.

He’s the kind of guy to carry you on his shoulders just because. To him, it’s not about showing off—it’s about holding you up where you belong: “at the top of the world, babe.”

✦ Alhaitham

He’s not showy about his feelings, but his love is in his consistency and attention to detail. He’ll remember exactly how you like your tea, your preferred seat in a library, the book you were curious about three weeks ago.

If you're walking beside him and the sun is too harsh, he’ll casually tilt his book to shade you instead.

He’s all quiet control and precision until you catch him alone in his study, the world muted except for the slick slide of his fingers undressing you. No grand gestures—just slow, calculated exploration of every inch, tongue tracing lines like he’s memorizing your body’s secrets. When he finally sinks into you, it’s measured but deep, hips pushing forward with deliberate pressure that makes you gasp, then shiver. His dark eyes lock with yours, calm and intense, as he leans close to press a whispered curse against your collarbone, dragging you deeper into the kind of silence where only breath and moans exist. You’re not just his partner—you’re his obsession, and he’ll make sure you feel every damn second of it.

Doesn't say "I miss you." Instead, he leaves sticky notes with neutral reminders on them that end with: You’d better come back safe.

He listens—even when it looks like he’s ignoring you. Later, he’ll reference something small you said during a rant. "You were worried about this, weren’t you? I took care of it."

He offers his headphones to you. That’s his version of an intimate gesture. Quiet, shared peace. Just vibes and closeness.

✦ Kaveh

He shows love by romanticizing every little thing you do. You pick a flower? He compares you to a Renaissance painting. You trip? He calls it a "graceful stumble of a poetic soul."

He decorates your shared space with warm lights and cozy throw pillows, always claiming it’s for ambience, but it’s really for you.

He’s all softness and warmth until the moment he pins you gently to the couch with a sigh, lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as his hands roam possessively over your curves. His voice drops low, full of poetry and promise, murmuring filthy words that make your skin crawl and your pulse race. When he slides inside you, it’s slow and tender but with an edge of desperation, fingers threading through your hair as he presses you closer, whispering about how you’re his perfect masterpiece—flaws and all. You’re tangled in his arms, drowning in the sweet ache of his touch, every kiss a brushstroke painting you as his ultimate muse, craving and claiming you in every lingering thrust.

He always walks you home, no matter how tired or late it is. And he sings—just softly enough that you almost miss it.

Gives you handmade gifts, even if he’s broke. A framed drawing, a handcrafted pendant, a poem he accidentally left on your pillow.

If you’re sad, he tries to cheer you up by distracting you with a passionate monologue about something ridiculous. Works every time.

✦ Neuvillette

Reserved but deeply observant, he notices when your mood shifts by the slightest margin. He doesn’t press—you just suddenly find time clearing on his calendar so he can spend it with you.

Carries a handkerchief for you at all times. He’ll wordlessly pass it to you during emotional moments, his hand gently brushing yours.

He’s calm and reserved until he’s got you backed against a bookshelf in his private study, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your most sensitive places. His tongue follows the path of his fingers, teasing you with maddening precision—pressing just enough to make you whimper, then sliding deeper where you need it most. His touch is confident, almost clinical, but there’s heat in every stroke, every flick, building you up until your legs tremble and your breath hitches. When he finally parts you with his fingers and slips inside, it’s slow, intense, and unrelenting, as if marking you not just with pleasure but ownership, leaving no doubt that you’re his to cherish and unravel.

He walks at your pace, even if it means slowing down by half. Always on your left, always watching the crowd for trouble.

Will place your favorite snack on your desk during long days—officially “from the court’s hospitality,” but you know it was him.

When you're overwhelmed, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder and quietly reads to you from his favorite books. His voice alone feels like safety.

✦ Wriothesley

Tough exterior, heart of warm, guarded affection. His way of showing love? Protecting your peace like a guard dog with manners.

Keeps a second pair of gloves just for you in case your hands get cold. Doesn’t say anything—just offers them casually like it’s no big deal.

He’s all controlled strength until he presses you hard against a cold wall, hips snapping into yours with rough, rhythmic force, fingers sliding underneath your clothing to wrap around your pearl-tight heat. His grip tightens with every thrust, his breaths sharp against your neck as he fucks you like he’s got something to prove—something only you can unlock. He doesn’t say much—just curses under his breath, low and urgent, as his hand teases and toys at your most sensitive spots, making your body shudder and your moans spill over. Every hard slap of skin, every calloused finger pressing deep, says plainly: you’re his, and he’s taking what’s his without mercy or apology.

Gives you his coat when you’re cold. Always. No matter how freezing he ends up.

He watches you when you talk—not in a creepy way, but with a sort of awe, like he can’t believe you’re real.

If you're upset, he won’t make you talk about it. He’ll invite you to box with him or cook with him instead, letting you work it out your way. He’s not good at emotions—but he’s always there.

✦ Ororon

His love is in the little things: the way he always makes sure your weapons are clean and ready, even if you never asked.

When you’re tired, he insists on carrying your gear, grumbling under his breath but secretly loving the excuse to help.

Ororon’s quiet strength turns feral behind closed doors. When he pins you against a wall after a long day, his hands grip firm but possessive, sliding beneath your clothes with urgent intent. He doesn’t need to whisper sweet nothings—his actions speak loud enough as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth grazing skin, tongue flicking over bruises he plans to leave. His pace is relentless, a fierce storm of need and control, driving you wild until you’re gasping and trembling under him. No words—just raw, fierce devotion marked by every hard thrust and rough touch.

He’s the kind of guy who shows affection through playful teasing but softens when he thinks no one is looking — a quick brush of his fingers against your hand or a lingering gaze.

If you get hurt, he’s the first to patch you up, his touch careful and surprisingly gentle for someone so fierce.

He shares stories from his travels just to see you smile and hear your laugh.

✦ Ifa

Ifa is more outgoing and sociable than people expect, showing his love through easy conversation, teasing, and warmth mixed with his natural calmness.

He expresses care by listening actively and offering thoughtful advice, always ready to engage deeply with you about ideas or feelings.

Ifa’s playful charm turns deliciously wicked when he’s got you alone. Between teasing kisses and whispered jabs, his fingers find your most sensitive places with practiced ease, drawing moans that make him grin. He loves to push your limits, tracing lazy circles with his tongue where you least expect, making you squirm and beg for more. When he finally slides inside, it’s with a mix of gentle warmth and mischievous hunger, his hands never still, exploring, claiming. His low chuckles and soft curses fill the room as he takes you in waves, making sure pleasure and laughter are tangled together—his signature way of loving you hard.

Enjoys playful banter and sometimes uses humor to lighten tense moments, showing affection through shared laughter and connection.

He remembers little details about your preferences and surprises you with small, considerate gifts like plants or trinkets that reflect your interests.

His love is a balance of extroverted warmth and grounded steadiness—he makes space for you while keeping things lively and genuine.

(Guys I'm so sorry if Ifa and Ororon's parts are off character I haven't even gotten to the Fontaine archon quest and like I've seen them and like never fully interacted with them so like yeah I'm just going off of looks and edits I've seen on TikTok TwT)

✦ Capitano

His love is in his protective presence—always a little too close for comfort, but never crossing boundaries.

Brags about you loudly to his crew, making sure everyone knows you’re his priority.

He’s all sharp angles and rough edges when he corners you against the ship’s bulkhead, hands gripping your hips like he’s holding on for dear life—and maybe he is. His breath is hot against your ear as he mutters curses and promises you only feel when he’s grinding into you hard and fast, claiming every inch with the precision of a captain taking command. His fingers dig into your waist, nails teasing bruises as his tongue finds yours, rough and demanding. When he fucks you against the cold metal, it’s fierce, protective, and utterly relentless—like he’s marking you as his, no questions asked.

He fixes things for you—broken doors, leaky faucets, or a torn jacket—without being asked.

When he’s nervous about you, he fidgets or tries to distract himself with loud jokes, but his eyes always find you.

Offers his coat or armor to shield you from rain or danger, like a living shield.

✦ Dottore

His love is weird but real: he shows it through thoughtful (if bizarre) experiments designed to improve your life.

Surprises you with strange gadgets or potions that somehow end up making things easier—or at least more interesting.

His love shows in strange ways, but when he pulls you into his cluttered lab, the intensity shifts. Fingers slick with something cold and unfamiliar, he teases your skin, exploring with scientific precision that somehow feels impossibly intimate. His tongue flicks with curious hunger, tasting, testing, driving you wild with the slow build of his calculated touch. When he finally takes you, it’s experimental—alternating between delicate care and rough urgency—his whispered calculations drowned out by your gasps and moans. Even in chaos, his obsession with you is clear: you’re his greatest experiment, and he’s determined to perfect every sensation.

Listens intensely when you talk, occasionally taking notes, then later shows up with solutions or improvements.

Despite his eccentricity, he always remembers your favorite things and makes sure they’re nearby.

When you’re upset, he offers a quiet presence, tinkering beside you, proving that love can be shown in many unconventional ways.

✦ Pantalone

Love, to him, is control and provision. You’ll never go without—not when he exists. He ensures it.

Buys out entire boutiques just because you once admired a coat in the window. He won’t tell you—he’ll just gesture toward the wardrobe and say, “Take your pick.”

Behind closed doors, his need to control takes on a more primal edge. He pins you with that same quiet power, fingers trailing possessively over your skin as he claims every inch without words. His touch is both reverent and demanding, guiding you exactly how he wants—slow, deliberate, and with an iron will beneath the silk. When he whispers curses in your ear during the heat of the moment, they’re promises masked as threats, his tongue tracing patterns that leave you trembling. Control isn’t just a word for him—it’s how he shows he owns you, body and soul, in the most intimate of ways.

He never says “I care about you.” Instead, it’s: “I've already handled the problem. You won’t hear from them again.”

Holds your hand only in private—softly, reverently, like he’s touching the one thing he cannot own.

He gives you an untraceable bank account and says, “Just in case you ever need to disappear.” You know what he really means is “I want you safe. Always.”

✦ Dainsleif

He doesn’t speak of love—he speaks of duty and fate. But his gaze softens when it lands on you, as if you’re the one thing he’d defy destiny for.

You’ll never see him rest, but he’ll stay awake through the night just to keep watch while you sleep.

His duty-bound exterior melts away when it’s just the two of you. He’s dark and intense, hands rough but gentle as they explore the delicate places he guards fiercely. His lips brush your skin like a vow, every kiss weighted with silent promises and battles fought for you alone. When he takes you, it’s with a fierce urgency—like he’s defying fate itself with every thrust, every whispered curse. The shadows around you deepen, but under his touch, you feel utterly seen, protected, and claimed—like you’re the only light worth fighting for in his relentless night.

Fixes your cloak when it tears. Wraps your wounds even when you insist you’re fine. He never says anything—just works in silence, his hands careful, like you’re something fragile in a world that breaks everything.

Always walks behind you. Not because he distrusts you, but because he’s made to shield, not to shine.

You once asked if he’d ever known peace. He looked at you for a long time and said, “Only when I’m with you.”

505 notes · View notes

donaweasley · 2 months ago

Text

A Home With You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Plot:

It had become a quiet routine for Bucky to crash at your place whenever he felt like he needed it. You didn't mind at all, of course! But eventually, you find yourself being pulled in the whirlpool of something stronger. And Bucky? Well, you wouldn't know until you ask him, right?

Genre: Fluff, domestic, friends-to-lovers

Warnings: None

Read time: ~16 mins

You tried to dedicate at least one weekend a month to rearranging your wardrobe. After many failed attempts at not missing these deadlines, you had finally accepted that organising wardrobes just wasn’t your thing. Most days you’d simply stand there, staring at the crumpled, slumping stacks of fabric inside, mentally organising them, before shutting the doors with a dramatic huff and a defeated acceptance of “That’s too much work! Next week!”

But today was not that day. Today you were determined to see neat stacks by sundown, no matter what came in the way!

Bucky had returned from a mission late last night and, though he insisted on being the cook for the day, you had managed to nudge him into tending the plants instead, if he really needed something to busy his hands.

Food was scheduled to be at your doorstep in around two hours, and an old album, playing from a Bluetooth speaker in the living room, filled the house with rhythm and nostalgia. Everything was sorted, except for your wardrobe.

As you pulled out the first two bundles of semi-neatly folded clothes, you paused. Around half of the occupants there were not even yours. They were Bucky’s. You took one shirt, unfolded it, and pressed it to your nose, inhaling the soft scent of fresh laundry, tinged with something distinctly him. The long sleeves draped over your shoulders loosely, as though hinting at a shadow of an embrace that its owner was yet to give you.

With a lazy smile now hanging on your lips, you carefully placed the garment alongside the rest of the clothes, and took out the next stack. This one revealed two of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts that he wore to bed when he stayed over. Well, on the makeshift bed in your apartment that had slowly, almost shyly, become his.

It suddenly dawned on you how every little piece in your apartment had his signature on it. Not loud, not overshadowing your essence, but seamlessly stitched into your space, like a second thread running alongside your own.

Your mind slowly drifted back to the first day that Bucky had crashed at your place.

It was past midnight. You remembered getting startled when the doorbell rang. The little peephole had revealed a worn-out Bucky in a hoodie. His long hair, drenched with the weight of the rain outside, shadowed his eyes as he hung his head and stared at your threshold. You had opened the door in panic, fearing the worst. What other reason would Bucky Barnes have to appear at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, wearing a fatigue that you had rarely seen on him ever since he had been friends with Sam!

“Can I …” A long exhale had punctuated his words. “Can I stay here for the night?”

That simple question - raw and pleading - had left you breathless. He had been your friend, alright, but never had you imagined him seeking you out for comfort when the weight of the world had become too much to bear alone.

And then, eventually, it became a routine. Every time he was upset beyond repair, every time he returned from a complex mission, every time he needed someone to lean on, Bucky would appear at your doorstep. And you? You would always welcome him with all the warmth and cosiness that you could offer as a friend, until your place had started feeling like a home to him.

Now, almost a year later, your place is painted with little strokes of Bucky. After three to four months of finding the large man trying to awkwardly fit into your couch, you had ultimately exchanged it for a sofa-bed. The furniture was well beyond its good days anyway, so why not replace it with something more useful? Just a practical choice, nothing else, you had reasoned.

With Bucky coming over to your place more often each week, some of his clothes had found their place in between your ones.

“It’s more convenient this way,” he had told you, avoiding your amused eyes.

Your sink needed fixing? Bucky was your man. You weren’t feeling strong enough to carry on through the day? Bucky would make you your favourite meal, and then be the shoulder to lean on as you distracted yourself with movies and shows.

His favourite brand of tea lived on your kitchen shelf, not far from a box of his favourite cookies. A seashell that he had once found on the beach sat on a side table in your living room.

“It looks better in your apartment,” he had argued. “Besides, I’m sort of careless with these things.”

Hell, he even had a spare toothbrush in your bathroom!

A smile crept up on your dazed face when you remembered the night you had run your fingers through the tousled hair of a sleeping Bucky, and had kissed his forehead while whispering, “You can stay here for as long as you like.” You had always wondered later if he had really been asleep at that moment.

Your mind even had the audacity to bring up the memory of the first time you had seen Bucky in your oversized t-shirt and a pair of really old shorts, freshly showered, hair sprinkled with droplets of water, smelling of your shower gel and shampoo, with your towel hanging around his neck. It was a thrilling sight to behold, to say the least, surprising as well but also calming and … intimate? Like there was something so beautifully domestic about it. You were busy fixing his bed on the old couch when your brain had stopped functioning. It was only when a cushion had slipped out of your numb fingers, drawing Bucky’s attention, that you realised the embarrassing situation you had put yourself in. Back then, you had dismissed the feeling as “a passing phase”. But now, thinking back, your cheeks burned when you realised that falling for James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t a recent event. You had started admiring the man long before you had realised it.

As the reel of memories slowly unfolded in your mind, you realised that Bucky had quietly built a home in your house. Quietly. Softly. Whether he realised it or not was a different chapter but the domestic life that you both shared - even though only twice or thrice a week - was actually the secret to your newfound happiness.

The super soldier smiled more, his nightmares had almost disappeared, his shoulders were more relaxed. Your loneliness had vanished, you were more active than ever, you were finally inspired to pursue your hobbies, and your place glowed with laughter, warmth and peace - those little feelings that suspiciously felt like love. And you realised that maybe - just maybe, because even though all signs were clearly screaming delightfully, you were still afraid to hope - that this entire unsaid, unofficial, semi-roommate arrangement that you had between yourselves was a lot more than what it looked like.

You screamed into his t-shirt in frustration because you knew absolutely well that you were already neck-deep in love with him, and it utterly terrified you - how quietly it had happened, how completely it had taken over! There was no single moment to point to, no grand confession, no accidental brush of hands that set your heart spinning. Just … the slow blooming of comfort. The way his laughter now lived in the walls of your apartment. The way he knew where you kept every little thing in your kitchen; in fact, he sometimes knew them better than you did. The way your name sounded different when he pronounced it - softer, like a prayer he liked to whisper. Indeed, you now recalled, you had once drunkenly confessed to him that your name sounded the best on his mouth. As though, he knew the perfect way to say it!

You pressed the t-shirt tighter to your face, as if the cotton fabric could muffle the rising storm in your chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was your friend - your safe place, your shared coffee, your companion on quiet Sunday afternoons. And yet, somehow, he had become the pulse of your home, and the echo of his footsteps down your living room now felt more like belonging than any words ever could.

Clutching his garment in hand, you quietly tiptoed to the balcony where Bucky had been working all morning. A new warmth bloomed in your chest at the sight of the freshly shined and trimmed monstera, the newly repotted line of succulents, and the peace lilies that flowered like they had just experienced the best Spring of their lives! Eventually, your line of sight led you to the man behind all these toil.

He sat with his back towards you, quietly humming the song currently reverberating through the house while carefully coaxing a stubborn vine of pothos into staying in its trellis. His hair was shorter now, cropped tight at the sides, giving you a better view of his beautiful face. Sunlight painted his shoulders and back in amber, and left the back of his head looking like a canvas woven out of gold.

You padded closer, your fingers closing around the t-shirt like a vice. Bucky was either too engrossed in his work to notice you - which you seriously doubted, given his enhanced reflexes - or he was too comfortable with being around you to find your presence startling.

“We need another wardrobe,” you announced in an almost confident and nonchalant manner. Almost. Because your nerves twisted your pitch into being higher than you had intended, making you flinch at your own voice.

“Yeah?” His eyes were still fixed on the vine that was on the verge of giving in to his attempts. “Okay, tell me when you’d like to-”

His movements stilled. You knew that he had realised. Your hands were almost wringing the t-shirt now.

“We”.

The word had echoed back to him a second later.

He turned halfway toward you, brows pinched slightly, lips pressed together tightly as if trying to make sure he had heard it right. His eyes flicked to yours, searching, reading, hesitating.

Your focus suddenly seemed to shift to the cloth in your hand. “There-there’s not enough room for our stuff.” You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “I mean, you know I’m a shopper and a keeper! So… And you do have some of your stuff in here as well, and I won’t really mind if you were to bring more of them. I mean, that would be … uhh … that would be great! Really, I … Would you?”

You were a rambling mess! But the anticipation bursting in your entire being finally made you look at him. You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks.

Silence stretched between you - soft yet pulsating. The song from the speaker now seemed like background music floating from somewhere far away.

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and the beginnings of a smile, “Yeah, I’d love to. You … you sure?”

The t-shirt, now creased in your grip, seemed to call for your attention again. You were almost speaking to it instead of the man before you when you said, “Of course! You could bring all your stuff here.” You had just realised what you said, and your throat went dry. “If you want,” you added meekly.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds. Slowly, he stood up, removed the gloves from his hands, and dusted off the remnants of soil from his palms and wrists. Had you been able to look at him, you’d have chuckled at his rather comical attempts at forbidding his lethal smirk from making its way to his face.

“What exactly are you suggesting, doll?”

“Doll”.

Just when you thought that you had become acquainted with the strange feeling that this word always seeped into you, it started sounding different. Heavier, this time, laced with an adoration that you had never noticed before.

“Well,” you cleared your throat and looked into his eyes, “this place already knows you. Won’t harm if it knows you better.”

Bucky pressed his lips tight again and shook his head as though not understanding your words, although his eyes clearly shone with mischief.

“Good God, Bucky!” The cocktail of emotions brewing within you finally burst. “Stop being an arse! You want to hear it aloud? Fine! Move in with me. I want you to move in with me.”

He laughed, quiet and stunned, like the sound had crept out of him without permission. “God, doll! Thought you’d never ask!”

A wave of relief washed over you at his words! Although you were jumping and screaming inside, on the outside, you could only manage a small, shy smile, like the onset of Spring - tentative yet hopeful. He looked at you like he didn’t dare blink, as though one wrong movement might shatter the spell.

“C’mere,” he said softly. His flesh hand stretched towards you, as though inviting you to a new adventure.

You stepped forward, heart stammering, and he took the t-shirt from your hands - his t-shirt - and set it gently over the back of the nearby chair like it was something he did everyday. His fingers, calloused and steady, brushed yours in the process, just briefly. Just enough to make your breath catch.

“I’ve been leaving pieces of myself here for months,” he murmured. “Thought - well, hoped - that one day you’d understand why. Had never planned on it but…this place now feels more like a home than any other place has ever felt to me.” His blue eyes shone with joy. His hands searched for yours, and you instinctively surrendered.

“I really like having these pieces around,” you responded quietly, afraid that speaking any louder might disrupt the moment. “And I want more of them around. Everyday. I had been wanting more of you around for a long time now … probably. … But never realised it … until now.”

“Took you pretty long to realise,” that familiar lop-sided smile played at his lips, and those hooded eyes traced your face reverently, like it was something sacred.

It stunned you breathless. Your words came out in whispers, “Well, I’m allowed to be stupid sometimes. But why didn’t you say anything?”

He sighed, his own voice dropping to a hushed note, thick with emotion, “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Scare me away?” You raised your brows, incredulous. “Do you really think that you could scare me away? You overestimate yourself, Sergeant!”

Bucky chuckled, “Well, yeah, I’m allowed to be stupid sometimes.” And his soft laughter echoed in your throat.

He stood there in front of you - the same old friend who had always been your second nature - but bathed in a new light. Your pulse raced when you became aware of the softness with which he looked at you, of the warm smile that was meant only for you, of the trust and love that he had for you.

A canopy of comfortable silence covered you both. Your fingers entwined with each other a little more, thumbs soothingly circled over the backs of your hands a little more, sparks flew around you more than you could care to hold back.

“Bucky?” Your voice was almost shy, and your face unveiled of all pretence. There was only an array of unbridled emotions. “I mean, this may be too sudden, and I do want to take it slow. Not rush into it. But I just… I can’t… I really want to… God!! Can I-”

“Yes! Please!” Bucky understood your question before you had to word it out.

His flesh hand delicately cupped your face while his metal fingers gently moved a strand of hair that had been clinging to the corner of your lips for a while now, They caressed your cheek with their back while descending your jawline. Bucky looked into your eyes one last time before surrendering himself to the ocean of your combined feelings.

His lips touched your softly, almost like a prayer. In response, he found yours caressing him with assurance, with purpose. That was all he needed. Bidding goodbye to his insecurities and doubts, he cradled your face in both hands, and kissed you like you were the last angel in the Universe, like you held the pitcher to the lips of his thirsty soul, like this was the first and the last time that he was allowed to love.

It gradually deepened - the kiss that had answers to every bit of longing you both had experienced all this time. Bucky took his time cherishing the feeling of your tongue on his. His arms had locked you in a tight embrace. His hands mapped your structure from the head to the waist. You gripped his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to this plane. Your other hand wove into his hair, and gently tugged on them, eliciting sweet sounds from the supersoldier.

Breaths mingling, panting, both of you finally pulled apart only to rest your foreheads against each other. Without warning, you wrapped yourself tightly around him, anchoring him home. And Bucky could not help but close his eyes at the pang of emotions that swelled in his chest.

“I was an idiot,” you mumbled into his neck, “to not see this sooner. But now I do, I love you. You know, not as friends but … I-want-to-make-a-home-with-you kind.”

A wide smile broke across Bucky’s face. “I know,” he replied softly while gently kissing your neck. “I love you, too. In that I-want-to-live-the-rest-of-my-life-permanently-crashing-at-your-place kind”.

The giggle that erupted from you as you pulled away just enough to look at him, sounded like Christmas bells in his ears.

“So, how do we begin our new journey?” Bucky asked, softly tracing your face with a warm hand.

“Right now. In my room.” Bucky’s brows arched at your words and his lips parted in disbelief. “By helping me clean up the mess called my wardrobe. I mean … our wardrobe,” you corrected with a smirk.

Laughter spilled into the apartment, bouncing off the walls like sunlight.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The low baritone, the intensity in his eyes and something about the way he called you “ma’am” sent electricity shooting down your body. You tried to push the feeling down by shifting your visual focus from Bucky to the plants outside. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

“So, do I still have to sleep on that sofa-bed?” He asked as you both sauntered towards your room.

Heat rose to your cheeks. You knew he saw it. And yet, you had the audacity of feigning annoyance at his question. “One step at a time, Sergeant! One step at a time.”

Bucky laughed and picked you up like his bride, despite your shrieks, stealing another kiss from your squealing mouth as he did, before covering the short distance to your room in a few strides.

***

Bucky Masterlist

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mangocurist · 3 months ago

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@daylilie @jumped-for-the-yaoi be normal this time pleaseeee. anyway so zincewam writing(ls s6 zam and uu wemmbu :)) and now im gonna fuck off to go watch zams stream

✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓

Zam isn’t sure what she’s expecting when she meets Wemmbu again, somewhere around ninety-seven days plus a month or so since his (as of now) final death on Lifesteal.

Honestly, Zam hadn’t even thought he’d ever be talking to Wemmbu again— at least, not before Season Six ended. But her return to the server had its consequences: namely, being kidnapped by one SpokeIsHere and being brought to a random private server to ‘wait until Wemmbu shows up.’

Because that was a totally valid way to treat someone you hadn’t talked to in ninety seven days! Yeah, Spoke, let’s just— drag Prince Zam wherever you want! Seriously, if she hadn’t burned her Oath already, she’d be considering it now because of that guy.

Still. It’s… Zam supposes it’s not such a bad thing to talk to Wemmbu again, even if he is still a bit mad at the way this was set up.

After all, he’s not the same Wemmbu who tormented her for the sole crime of caring more about building than she did chaos. That Wemmbu— well, Zam’s pretty sure that Wemmbu had died long before now, even. But… she doesn’t know what she’ll make of this one. And frankly, Zam isn’t sure what this Wemmbu will make of him, either, because he’s not the same Prince Zam that he was ninety-seven days ago. And she certainly isn’t the same Prince Zam who was around at the start of the server.

But— well. Whatever she could have been expecting, this isn’t it.

“Oh. It’s you,” Wemmbu says after he finally logs on, his eyes widening for a second before lowering into a tired glare, and he sounds— defeated. He looks defeated, even if he doesn’t necessarily dress like it, clad in an unfamiliar copper-trimmed cyan cloak and sporting a glowing eye halo above his head. It isn’t right— the Wemmbu Zam knows would be gloating or annoying or doing his best to make Zam upset right about now, flexing status or clothes or whatever the hell he holds against him this time. He wouldn’t be… well. He wouldn’t be looking at Zam like he’s afraid of him.

It gives Zam a bad, bad rush of deja vu, like that same sickening feeling he’d felt when he talked to Mapicc, only to find out that in the time she’d spent away from the rest of the server they’d managed to break her Mapicc down to nothing.

What the hell had happened?

“Wemmbu?” Zam says, the word coming out as more of a question than a greeting. “Hey, man… uh. Long time no see?”

“It’s been a few months,” Wemmbu acknowledges, and… yeah. Okay. Seems like Zam wasn’t the only one keeping score, then. “...Sooo. Are you building another Empire or something? Seems like a pretty bad move. You know. With what happened last time.” He motions to her clothes, and Zam blinks, confused for just a second, before he remembers what he’s wearing.

“No, no, um— I— I left behind building empires a while ago. You… uh. You shouldn’t know about the Prince Zam Empire, anyway,” Zam coughs awkwardly into the crook of her arm, suddenly a little self conscious of how overgeared she looks compared to an armor-less Wemmbu. Maybe that’s why he looked so… downtrodden? He thought she’d try and jump him, maybe? The armor he and Derap had gathered earlier that day suddenly feels a little heavier, a little bit too much for her to wear, and she hurriedly strips herself of her chestplate, pants and helmet, leaving her only in Atlas’s netherite-trimmed diamond boots and her plain clothes without any other protection. “That was— that was like, a Season Three thing. I think. You weren’t around for that.”

Wemmbu’s eyebrows furrow. “What? Season Three? I wasn’t… what do you mean?”

“Yeah— yeah! I, uh. You know. Got executed and like, toyed with, by a rainbow-bandanna wearing God, or whatever. Bad times. But you shouldn’t… you weren’t around for that,” Zam explains hurriedly, hands fiddling with the edge of her cloak. He pauses when his fingers hit the edge of the Wemmbu pin on the cloak, and drops it like a hot potato. Wemmbu’s probably looking at her weird now. She doesn’t blame him. “I’m… uh. Not a pacifist now anymore, either. But— I’m never doing an Empire again. Just… just Zaun, but that’s like, a commune of sorts, you know?”

Wemmbu’s expression flickers, and then, his eyes seem to harden. “Riiiiiight. So, we’re just making shit up now?”

“What?” Zam blinks, bewildered. This was not the way he was expecting this conversation to go. “Uh— no….? I don’t know what you mean, dude.”

“The Empire. Your Empire, that you betrayed me over,” Wemmbu says, his hands flying to his hair, looking like a mess. “All the shit you did to me, in— in the Prince Zam Empire, in the Proton Prison— all of that, are you just gonna pretend none of that shit ever happened?”

“Wemmbu, I—”

“Yippity yappity, whatever, bro, I literally don’t care what you have to say about— your make believe ‘Season Three’ shit, you, like— can you be fucking serious? And, like, talk about what you did to me?” Wemmbu grips his own wrists, as if he wants to reach out and shake Zam by the shoulders but doesn’t trust himself to. Zam just watches, that awful feeling sinking deeper and deeper into his gut.

This isn’t the Wemmbu she knows, is he?

“I don’t know what— what this… what your Zam did to you. Because— I don’t think you’re the Wemmbu I know. So, I don’t— think we’re on the same page here,” Zam tells him, voice level. She forces her hands to stay still, clenching them at the sides of her body as she meets Wemmbu in his red-rimmed eyes. “Look. Just— I know, I know, it sounds stupid, and I probably sound like I’m lying, but— but just hear me out for a second, alright? And if I say anything you don’t get, or want me to explain, I’ll… I’ll do that. Just… give me a moment.”

“...Fine.” Wemmbu says. A tear slips down his cheek, and Zam wants nothing more than to reach out and wipe it off, but when she reaches out, he steps back, a little jittery motion that makes her heart crack a little more.

“Okay. Okay. That’s… alright. I— I’ll start with Season Five, where we first met.” Zam inhales, and still holding Wemmbu’s gaze, she starts to explain.

She can only hope that this Wemmbu will be able to trust him with whatever his Zam did to him.

#📖 oz writes #princezam #wemmbu #unstable universe #tumblr fic #mutiny duo #okay BACK TO ZAM #lifesteal smp

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jacaerysgf · 1 year ago

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Distractions

Summary: Despite how close the two of you are you're sick of waiting around for Jace no matter how much you like him, so you decide you’re going out on a date! but he doesn't like that.

r.q: childhood friends to lovers with modern frat boy Jace and he's like rlly popular and known to go from girl to girl. reader is like really smart and different from Jace so people get surprised when they find out you two are really close. Jace is always dragging you to parties and you’re always at his football games and he gets really protective over you. idek where im going with this 😭 but w smut too, your fics are acc amazing ty for your work 🙏

w.c: 2.5k

c.w: reader has hair (unspecified type, could be a wig wtv), Jace's anger issues, idk what locker rooms look like, cregan <3, fingering (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), not proofread (as always)

a.n: I CANT STOP WRITING FOR JACE every request of him i get becomes my priority, literally when i woke up and saw this i had to get to writing it immediately like there’s smth wrong w me, anyways hope you all enjoy <3, this ones probably not my best T_T

Knocking on the door cuts through the music playing out of your speaker while your getting ready. “Come in.” you already know who it is. Your longtime best friend and housemate Jace who comes in with a smile on his face before it turns to shock as he looks you up and down, “woah.”

You finish clamping your necklace around your neck and look at him, “what do you want?” He leans against the door with his arms crossed with an amused look. you ignore how your heart flutters at him and turn away to adjust the dress you currently had on. “i just wanted to tell you im about to head out for the game, its a little odd to get all dressed up for a football game no?” The looks falls from his face as you drop your gaze from his in the mirror and fiddle around with your hair. he says your name breathlessly as he pushes away from the frame and takes a step into the room. You finally lift your head and meet his gaze in the mirror. “I'm not going to the game tonight Jace.”

He flinches as if you had thrown something at him and stutters for a moment his face covered in pure confusion as he brings one of his hands to his neck. “what do you mean you're not coming? you always come! if this is about me eating your leftovers then im sorry i thought you left it for me-” “i have a date.”

There it is. You didn't want to tell him. Hes always been, well a little protective of you, but you mostly blame it on your introverted personality while he's more of a people person. Youve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember but he's never been interested in you not the way you wanted him to be anyways, barely staying single or without a girl on his arm for a second you don't even know the girls names or maybe that's the point. He doesn't bring them around you but you know he's with them when he returns home super late with his hair all messed up. You fear he does it on purpose, he must know you like him and he doesn't bring them around you to make you upset.

You really didn’t want to tell him. You had thought maybe he would have just left for the pregame and just shot you a text and you could have faked some sickness or have pretended to go to sleep early. You walk over to your bed sit down grabbing your shoes to put them on. His silence is off putting. and you don’t dare raise your head to look at him.

“with who?” “This guy from lab, mark.” you finish lacing your shoes and stand up, finally looking at him and noticing the blank look on his face. “Jace-” “I don’t like this. i mean i don’t even know the guy how do we know he’s not some serial killer or something? Mark? Why don’t you just push it off for a couple days, come to the game and ill find out if he’d a good guy-” “I'm going whether you like it or not.” you cut him off. You couldn’t let him stop you from forgetting about him even if it was just for a bit. You grab your purse moving to push past him only for him to grab your arm. “Jace-” “You look beautiful.” The skin where he was holding you burns. You don't say anything as he lets you go and keeps his back turned to you. “text me?”

You try to ignore the pit that forms in your stomach at his sudden change of tone. you want to say something to him, you’re not used to seeing him like this. he would usually be pestering you about how you he asked you out or did you really like him but he was quiet. The sound of a horn outside brings you back to reality and you nod at his back as if he could see you and walk out. Putting on a fake smile as your handed a nice bouquet of flowers from mark, gulping to try and swallow the pit in your stomach.

—

“who the hell does this guy think he is?” His fist slams into the wall of lockers he's pacing in front of. All his gear is put on, his helmet is laying on the bench next to cregan who can only watch his best friend act like an idiot with an annoyed face. “Who the hell are you to care? Her boyfriend? No. So you have no say in it.” Jace bites his nails as he ignores the urge to hit the wall once more. “she’s my best friend.” “and? shouldn’t you be happy she’s on a date with this guy. i like mark he’s nice. what you like her or something?”

Jace ignores how is blood boils at the idea of you now sitting in your pretty dress smiling and giggling at some other guy that's not him. that doesn’t mean he likes you…. Jace attempts to come up with an excuse in his head about why he's so upset and why he's always been so upset over you going out with other guys, he usually just tells himself he's all worried about you and then he finds some girl to take you off his mind for the night…. that doesn't mean he likes you.

Cregan watches with a raised brow as Jace has an internal conflict with himself. He expected Jace to turn to him and admit it but all he does is grumble to himself and grab his helmet walking away from him. “I don't like her.” Cregan just shakes his head and picks up his own helmet following after him, “that fucking idiot.”

—

Mark is nice. Hes cute. He told you you could order anything you wanted off the menu since he was paying. He pays attention to you when you talk. Hes not Jace. You try your best to not think about him but you can’t help it. You wonder how the game is going, you’ve never missed one of his games. Maybe you pushed it too far and should have scheduled this date for a different day, but you know if you did Jace would have managed to convince you not to go and you would have fallen into the same cycle you always do. You nod your head and hum as mark tells you some story as you phone begins to buzz. You ignore it but it just keeps on buzzing to the point even mark looks concerned. “You can check it i don’t mind, ill use the restroom.”

You let out a hushed thank you as you check you phone to see what looked like a million texts from cregan.

‘hey i know the two of you are like fighting or wtv but you gotta see him asap.’

‘never seen him lose his mind like that’

‘got himself hurt’

‘nothing too bad but he’s bleeding’

‘know he thinks it cost us the game’

‘now he wont talk to any of us not even me’

‘think his head wasn’t in it’

‘know it’s not my place but he likes you so much’

‘losing his fucking mind over you not being here and being on some date’

‘please, for his sake at least try to talk to him, know you’re busy sorry to bother but I'm worried for him’

You stand out of your seat in shock as your heart begins to race. He was hurt? He likes you? Mark hadn’t come back yet so you open your purse and throw down some bills before running out of the restaurant. You sprint your way back to campus where the field was, thankfully living in a college town meant everything being super close by, you cant hear anything other than your own racing heart and the sounds of your feet as they slam on the floor.

You slam the hallway door open and cregan and some other guys look at you in shock. You stand there and take some steps towards cregan barely being able to catch your breath. Cregan stands up and looks at you shocked, “You ran here?” You just nod as you look at him expectantly, “where is he?” He uses his thumb to point behind him to the locker room doors, “Completely alone, everyone's already left.” You nod as the guys wish you good luck and leave.

You just stare at the doors for a moment, clarity finally hitting you as you realize how ridiculous it was you just left your date and ran all the way here. You couldn't just ignore cregans message. Pushing open the door its dead quiet other than the sound of running water. You walk slowly into the room the door closing behind you louder than you expected causing you to wince before you call out his name. He doesn't answer so you walk around the wall to where the showers were and you can see him outlined in the curtain and almost gasp but you cover your mouth to prevent anything from coming out.

“Jace?” His head finally snaps up due to your voice being so close and he looks in your direction, calling out your name softly in question. “I’m here.” “What are you doing here?” He turns off the shower and you turn your back incase he stepped out of the shower. You attempt to suppress the heat and want that fills your body as you imagine him naked before shaking your head, “Cregan texted, i was worried about you.” He just hums. You wish you could see his face but you hear the curtain open and the sound of him stepping out. “What about your date?”

You freeze as you clutch your purse tighter in your hands as you let out a deep breath. “What about it?” Hes suddenly standing so close to you you can feel his breath tickling your back and you gulp. “You’re here and not there, why?” One of his hands slides down your arm to grab your clenched hand as his forehead hits your shoulder, he's takes a deep breath as he awaits your answer. “Does it matter?” You don't want him to ask because you don't want to have to answer him. you don't want to have to admit to yourself you just wanted to be with him and nobody else.

“You wanna know why it matters? Because i was so fucking mad that you weren’t here i threw the fucking game and hit my head. because nobody makes me lose my mind like you do. Needed you here and you weren’t. You were out with some stupid fucking guy and i was so pissed.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder and you try to suppress the whimper that climbs its way up to your throat. “What are you saying Jace?”

His hands move to wrap around your waist and his head moves to your neck, You can feel his wet naked chest soaking the back of your dress and the heat of his breath on your neck “You know what, That i would go find a new girl to fuck because i couldn’t have you, that i think about you all the time because i like you so much, that it makes me sick when i think about you with a guy that's not me.” He begins to suck at your neck and you now do nothing to hold back the moan you let out as his grip moves to your hips pulling you back against him closer. “You mean it?” His hands slide down to the hem of your dress and he slides his hands under it and upwards pulling your dress up to poll around your hips, “of course i do baby, can i touch you?”

You let out a strained please and he pushes your underwear aside to run a finger down your slit letting out a groan, “fuck..” He quickly sticks two fingers into you and you fall back against him, withering under his touch as he moves at a rough pace, clearly very eager to please you and his other hand comes down from your hips to play with your clit. Your knees almost buckle from the amount of pleasure but he keeps you pressed tightly against him curling his fingers.

You swear he has magic powers because as you were right about to cum he pulls out of you and you whimper. He chuckles at your reaction and twists you around to face him, “want you to come around me.” He pulls you into a heated kiss as you two frantically pull off your dress, kicking it to some random corner of the locker room along with your underwear. “I don't have a condom.” You hear him swear and mumble to himself but you cup his cheeks to stop him, “I'm on the pill.” “It’s not the same-” “what are you not clean?” “of course i am-” “Then fuck me Jace.” He looks in your eyes for any signs of hesitation and when he doesn't find any he quickly pushes himself into you.

You feel like you can’t breathe, he pushes you against a nearby wall and feverishly pounds into you as his hands move to play with your tits. Hes talking but you can’t decipher what he’s saying so lost in your own pleasure. “fuck you feel so good fuck.” You tug on his hair and pull him to kiss you, your on the brink of release as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing on your nipples and the combination of the millions of emotions racing around you. You grip on his hair tightly and he groans, “You close?” You nod you head, “Wait for me.” You open your mouth to complain but his hips begin to move faster and his hands move to your hips to slam you closer to match his thrusts. “Want to come together.” His words are slurred as he’s approaching his release. Your hands scratch down his back as he groans in your ear, taking your ear and sucking on it.

“Come.” He breaths in your ear and you do, he hisses as he feels you pulse against him, your fluid completely covering him and he cant help but follow suit. He kisses you running his hands down your arms. As the two of you settle down he makes no move to pull out of you, seeming content within you.

“I'm gonna get a fucking earful from cregan.”

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tywrites · 14 days ago

Text

heavy | mateo manta

pairing: mateo manta x gn!reader

word count: 1,360 (not proof-read)

warnings: reader is implied to have depression

a/n: okay so this is really bad since i haven't written in quite a long time but!! i love him and i Needed to write something abt him. i desperately need more mateo fics lmao. hope you enjoy <33

-----

You rolled over in your bed, the usually comforting plush of your mattress feeling awfully cold today. You sighed, closing your eyes and quietly hoping to just fall back to sleep. Things had been… difficult recently. Losing your job had definitely taken its toll on you – on your mental health in particular. Even when working from home, you still had to make the time to leave every so often and interact with the real world. But with everything that had happened recently with the dateviators, you hadn’t been able to leave at all.

Of course, you still had the objects. And they were great company! Most of them anyway. But it didn’t stop you from feeling a bit… alone sometimes. You sighed softly, finally accepting the fact that sleep wasn’t coming. You looked over to your end table at the dateviators. You had a lot to do. It was really overwhelming, honestly. You hadn’t even met all of the objects in the house yet, let alone made any progress towards realising any. You had made a lot of close friends through them though. And even one very special, different relationship…

Even just thinking of Mateo brought a slight smile to your face, cheering up your bleak mood ever so slightly. If you’d told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d soon be dating your blanket… well, considering your track record with love, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.

You bit your lip, reaching over to the dateviators. You popped them on, blinking at the warm, pink hue that enveloped your vision. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to this. In a second, Betty had materialised in front of you, perched on the edge of the bed – or uh, on the edge of herself. She gave you a soft smile.

“How’re you feeling today, gorgeous?”

You made a face. “Well for starters, I don’t feel very gorgeous,” you reply groggily, sitting up as you wiped a hand over your tired face.

She chuckled. “Sweetie, you’re always gorgeous to me. But what’s got you so down? You barely slept last night, or the night before… should I be offended?” She was clearly joking, but there was a definite tone of concern in her voice.

“Nah, it’s not you, it’s me,” you admit, looking down at the sheets. “I just… I don’t know. I feel so… heavy? I’m so tired, all the time. Which makes no sense, let’s be real, I’m doing nothing all day but..” You trail off, unsure of how to word it. “I just can’t sleep though. I can’t relax. I feel so tense all the time and I don’t see a way out of it. Easier to just lay in bed, I guess,”

She looks at you, worry in her eyes. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. You try your best to force a smile.

“Not really. I think it’s just… something I have to deal with on my own,”

She frowned. “Honey, I don’t think-”

“I’ll see you tonight, Betty. Thanks for the talk,” you said quickly, standing up and heading to the bathroom, leaving Betty sitting on the bed, her face twisted in concern.

-------------

You’d spent most of the day dodging the other objects. Mateo especially. You just couldn’t bring yourself to talk to anyone right now. You left the dateviators on the table next to you, doom scrolling on your phone until the socially acceptable time to hit the hay. You were planning to go straight to bed, not call on anyone with the dateviators. The idea of bothering any of them, of forcing them to sit and listen to your silly problems was excruciating. But as you settled down into bed, trying in vain to close your eyes and let sleep come for you, there was only one thing on your mind.

You knew how upset Mateo would be if he knew you were avoiding him, especially if he knew it was because you weren’t feeling the greatest. Helping others is what drove him, it was the one thing he took pride in the most. He’d never let you wallow in your own self pity. You glanced at the glasses on your bedside table and sighed in defeat. You slid them on slowly.

You hadn’t even had them on for a few seconds before Mateo was materialising. You didn’t expect him to be right here, waiting for you. He was usually in the living room, caring for the inanimals. That man never took a break. When you saw the worried expression on his sweet face, you wanted to break down there and then.

“Ah mi vida, finally!” He said, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve been waiting for you all day,”

You flushed in embarrassment. So he’d been watching your pathetic display of self-loathing, huh? “Sorry, Mateo… I’ve just been, um, tired,” you said, avoiding his eyes. If there was anything in this world that could make you immediately spill all your darkest secrets, it was Mateo’s big, brown eyes.

“I’ve noticed… my love, I’m worried about you. Betty came to me earlier and told me you haven’t been sleeping. Is that true?” He asked tactfully.

“Betty said that?” Betrayal, you thought.

“She was worried. Honestly, a lot of us have been worried. You haven’t been acting like yourself for a while now. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you know you just have to ask, right? I would do anything for you,” he said, a small blush rising to his cheeks. “I mean, I’d hope you’d know that…”

You finally look at him, truly seeing the concern on his features. His bedhead was especially messy today, as though he’d been running his hand through it every five seconds. His usual easy smile was replaced with a small frown and you realised something. In that moment, you would do anything to see that smile again. As you were preoccupied with gazing into his eyes, Mateo took this opportunity to place his hand over yours. His touch was feather soft as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. You could almost feel your anxiety melting away.

You finally spoke.

“Mateo?”

“Yes, amor?”

“Could… could we cuddle?”

You ignore the burning in your cheeks and make your request, looking down at his hand still on yours. You focused on his touch. His touch seemed to make many things a whole lot easier.

At your words, a huge grin took over Mateo’s face. “You never even have to ask,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss onto the back of it.

You manoeuvred yourself so there would be room for Mateo beside you, turning so your back was towards him. He wasted no time in enveloping you in his arms, pulling you into the comforting warmth of his chest. His face snuggled into the crook of your neck and he took a deep breath in.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. The inanimals have missed you too…”

An arrow of guilt hit you right in the heart.

“I’m really sorry, ‘Teo… I-”

“You have no reason to be sorry, amor. Look, I can tell you’re struggling right now. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all, you have nothing to be ashamed about. But you have people around you that can help share your load, okay? You taught me that when we first met. When you bottle it all inside, it’s just too heavy for one person to handle. I want to help you. Please let me,”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You sniffled, wiping them away as quick as you could but they just kept coming. Mateo brought up the sleeve of his plush duvet jacket, wiping away the tears as they trickled down your face. You both said nothing. You laid there, wrapped up in Mateo’s arms, feeling more safe and secure than you had in a very long time. If Mateo was there to help you hold it, maybe things could be a lot lighter from now on.

#mateo manta #mateo manta x reader #date everything #date everything x reader #mateo manta imagine #date everything imagine #ty writes

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syntheticsymp · 1 month ago

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Niktotine.

Babe you are so right. Never in my life has a single word ignited an idea so quick.

In my HCs, I think Nikto had been smoking since he was young (a teen in Russia thinking he's so cool) and was probably encouraged by his father. He likes the cheap cigarettes that hurt his lungs to smoke. And I like to believe that he swears up and down he isn't addicted, when he definitely is.

Tw: smoking, implied kidnapping, Nikto being Nikto. Unedited and mainly brain worms

Nikto had long since perfected the art of torture, he knew how stress presented itself in his victims. Sweating, twitching, a bouncing leg. Normal people weren't good at hiding those tells.

And neither were you.

When he finally arrived home from KorTac, he could practically taste your panic in the air. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything particularly upsetting today. You had been living with him long enough to get used to his behavior.

It didn’t take him long to track you down. Sitting on the couch, head in your hands.

What could possibly be stressing you out? Nikto had taken you away from all your problems. Had the freedom to go into town been too much for you?

The voices were questioning him, nitpicking his decisions, as always. He huffed as he attempted to block them out. They weren’t his priority. He had just gotten home, he had other things to focus on.

Nikto sat down next to you, not bothering to give you the space you needed. You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, the hollow dip in your skin mimicking his own, deformed face.

He didn't want to ask, and to be honest, he really didn't care. But you were his pet, his питомица. He had a duty to you.

“Something is wrong.”

It wasn't a question.

You nodded slowly, turning to face him and hesitantly meeting his blue gaze. Your voice was pained when you responded. “Yes.”

You didn't offer more than that. And if you wanted to stay quiet, fine. Nikto wouldn't push. He hated it when people did that to him. If you wanted to tell him, you would. As long as you didn't lie or try to leave him, he wouldn't force you to speak.

So, instead, he acted. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap.

You kicked out. “Hey!”

His glare quickly silenced you. It didn't matter if you were in a bad mood, you weren't to fight him. He was attempting to be kind, giving you physical contact despite how he hated it. It was best if you didn't push your luck.

When he finally had you fully in his lap, he shoved a gloved hand in his pocket. You were tense, lips pressed into a hard line as you fought to keep quiet.

Eventually, he pulled out a small box of Parliment cigarettes and his smuggled lighter. Technically, the doctors said he shouldn't be allowed near either. The lighter was a danger in his hands and nicotine scraped his lungs.

But smoking worked better than his meds most days. Starting his day with his pretty thing handing him two orange pills and a cigarette in bed was just the right combination to keep the voices at bay. Just enough that they'd be content.

Who cared if the nicotine would rot his teeth when half of them had been pulled out by Mr. Z anyway. And if that man couldn't kill him, cancer didn't have a chance, either.

He handed you the lighter as he placed the cigarette between his cracked lips, balancing it between what remained of them. You took the lighter, just like always. It was a ritual for you to hold the flames to him. It was better than him doing it himself.

The white paper quickly caught fire and a thin trail of smoke wound its way to the ceiling, infecting the house that was supposedly a home. Parliaments left a scratchy taste in the back of his throat, a dull sort of ache he found just as addictive as the nicotine itself.

He blew smoke out of his scars as you started to melt into him. Resting your head against his chest, seeking comfort now that your stress had dissipated and morphed into weariness. You were seeking Nikto out, finally starting to give in to his broken version of love. That, or perhaps the smoke simply wore down your senses.

And, with ever watchful eyes, he noticed. It was hard not to.

The faint scent of cheap cigarettes followed Nikto like a ghost. You had grown used to the smell overtime, and even started to look for it whenever you were nervous, even if it wasn't intentional. You'd grow almost calm around him after he returned from smoking outside. And if he did inside, you would appear in the room in a matter of moments.

Even now, you were curled up against his chest, chin tilted upward so you could breathe in the nicotine as he exhaled.

A curious habit he had given you. Perhaps it was time to give you a taste of the real thing?

Nikto shifted you on his lap, forcing you to look up at him. You blinked a few times, still sleepy from whatever had caused you to stress earlier.

He held the cigarette out to you, tapping it against your lower lip, signaling for you to open.

Your eyes went wide. “Uhm, no thank you. I’m alright.”

“It helps us,” he reasoned, one of the first times he had attempted to do so. “It will help you.”

“What if I get addicted?” you asked, voice small.

Oh, питомица. You already are.

“We won't let you.”

He saw the flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You knew he wasn’t a liar. He had said before that there was no point in it. His word was good, the only thing left you could trust.

You carefully took the cigarette in your mouth, holding it between your lips just as delicately as you had done to his cock the night before. You didn’t breathe in, simply resting it there as if that would trick him.

Nikto rolled his eyes and pinched your nose.

You sputtered, forced to breathe in. Your eyes quickly teared up.

He pulled the cigarette away just as quickly as he gave it to you. Your cheeks were puffy with smoke, so he poked one. A thin stream of smoke fell from your lips and contaminated the air, mixing with his own smoke.

“Better?”

You slumped against him, offering a tired nod.

The voices in his head offered positive feedback for once. He had helped you. He may not be capable of emotion, but he at least had his питомица. He could have you without hurting or killing you. It was only a matter of time until he did, but for now, you loved him enough to rest against his chest. And he’d make sure you still loved him even if he hurt you. He couldn't have you leaving him, now could he?

He let out a proud huff, flicking what remained of his cigarette to the coffee table. Normally, he’d put it out on his pants leg or you, but he supposed he could hold off.

He used the squishy flesh where his thumb fingernail used to be tilted your chin up.

He mushed his lips against yours, tasting the nicotine on your tongue. You responded with the same desperation, moving just as sloppily as him. You were too tired to squirm, instead leaning into him just like he wanted you to.

You were becoming just as addicted to him as he was to you. And oh, didn't Nikto love watching your fall.

#nikto trying and failing to help because he doesn't grasp human emotions is my favorite Nikto #I have a soft spot for characters who don’t understand love and think obsession/possessive behavior will make up for being empty #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty nikto #cod nikto #nikto fanfic #nikto x you #nikto x y/n #andre nikto #nikto imagine #nikto x reader #nikto call of duty #nikto #tw smoking #fem reader #tw kidnapping

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marcsburnerphone · 1 year ago

Text

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), mentions of readers past relationship, some bond building, smoking, some tense moments

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4!! - part 5

————-

“Captain?” Soap yells from afar to get what seems to be prices attention. When he realizes that is indeed his captain he jogs to where John stands.

“What’re ye doin’ back?” Soap question a little confused, after their last two month mission John was granted leave for three months to recoup and rest.

“Just came to turn in these files.” He says waving the Manila folders in his hands.

“You could’ve just done that online, you know.” And yes John does know and by the look he gives Johnny he also knows.

“What, trouble in paradise?” Johnny smiles widely at the guilty look on his captain's face.

“Something like that.” John replies clearly a little tense.

“Well, tell me about it.” He says waiting expectantly.

“Over some drinks Sergeant.” Price replies before making his way into the building and soap returning to the trainees.

————-

“Oh that’s fucked mate.” Ghost says.

“Captain no offense you’re a very intelligent and capable man but that is so fucking stupid.” Gaz states before taking a drink of his beer.

“You thought oh I’m catching some feelings for her, let's just ignore her.” Soap says in a mimicking voice.

“No, it's not only that, I don’t have time to entertain dense feelings and she likely doesn’t share those same feelings.” His gruff voice replies as he takes a puff of his cigar and blows the smoke out into the pub they sit in.

“Did you ask her?” Gaz asks, already knowing the answer.

“Am I twelve? What grown man asks a woman if they have feelings for them usually there’s hints and clues you can pick up on.” Ghost grumbles in agreement from price earning a slap on the arm from soap.

“And she’s done nothing that may even give you an inkling that she’s into you mate?” Gaz quips in.

“Like “oh hey captain can you help me open this jar?” Or “price can you please help me fix this?” Johnny tries his best at a womanly voice.

“First of all she doesn’t call me captain or price and second of all, yes she does that but it’s only because she needs the help.” They all look at him with blank stares.

“I bet you wish she’d call you captain.” Soap whispers but before John can reply Gaz starts.

“Captain, does she ever stutter when you talk to her?” Gaz asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“sometimes.” He excuses that as human behavior.

“When she noticed your avoidance, did she get upset?” I mean you got a little mad at him that once but that was cause he was overstepping.

“A little.” He replies not really seeing where it’s going until oh.

“Yeah cap, you're being naive.”

“You should go back there, be kinder and less weird. She probably thinks you don’t like her and if that lasts too long she’ll start to actually not like you.” Well he obviously can’t have that.

“We need a mum anyways.” Gaz says under his breath and soap agrees.

“What?”

———————

“Hey you’re back.” You can’t resist the small smile that makes its way onto your face as John walks into the kitchen.

“Told you I’d only be a day or two.” He repeats his words from a couple days ago, hands awkwardly in his pockets.

He notices there’s something different in your energy that he picks up on or maybe it’s his energy that has changed.

“Yeah but last time you said a month and we’re gone two.” He remembers that and sees your point then he thinks about the fact that you remember that.

“Well last time I really didn’t think I’d be gone that long but you know.” He says not going into detail and just waving it off.

“Well I have a job to get too.” You say closing the package of blueberries you’d been eating out of then place them back in the fridge.

“On a Saturday?” He questions the unusuality of it.

“Yeah I had a woman call me this morning, said her wedding was next week and she really wanted me to be the one to give her her dream hair so I agreed.”

“Okay then, I’ll see you later, doll.” He says as you grab your keys and purse getting ready to leave.

“Bye John.” You smile softly looking anywhere but him cause if you did the smile that lays on your face at the newfound nickname would be too evident.

————-

“Hey so we’re just doing some highlights and a cut right.” You ask the woman in your chair as you drape the cape over her paying mind to her swollen belly and button it in the back.

“Yeah I actually have some pictures if that’s okay.” She says pulling out her phone to show you.

“Great, I’d love to see them.” You say getting your equipment ready.

She shows you and by the already light tone of her hair this will be easy work. You get everything settled and ready, mixing the bleach and color and sorting through the pieces you’ll paint.

“So what made you ask me to do your hair?” This is a question you always love to ask your clients. Was it social media or a referral or maybe something else.

“My finance actually recommended you.” Her fiance.

“Oh I don’t actually do men’s hair, who’s your fiance?” You question a little confused but clearly he might’ve just seen you on instagram or had a friend who’s been with you.

“Brian, he said he used to know you and heard you did really good hair.” No fucking way.

“Oh yeah I know Brian old friends.” You smile through the tears that threaten to escape your eyes.

How could he? How could he give this woman everything you’ve ever wanted then send her to you to show off that goddamn-

“He says to tell you hi.” She smiles looking back at you not having a clue of who you really are.

“Oh tell him I said hello.” You reply shortly.

“How’d you two meet?” You ask curiously.

“We actually worked together and when we first started talking he was actually in a relationship but nothing serious and the more we spent time together it just became clear we were meant to be together.” Her.

“So he cheated on his ex partner?” You say in a polite tone, one a girlfriend would use.

“Well I guess you could say that but according to him their relationship was over before it was over.” You smile at her nodding in understanding.

Scream, you wanted to scream your fucking head off the rest of the appointment. But no you stood there politely and gave this woman the most beautiful hair you could’ve imagined you even took fucking pictures for her to send to you’re cheating ex.

—————

On the way home you cried out of anger not even out of jealousy, or sadness just anger at the audacity that man had and the years you wasted with such a fucking loser.

When you pulled into the driveway you turned the car off and just sat there. You sat there and pondered on everything. You’d always asked him for a baby and he’d said he would never be a father. You always wanted to get married and he would say “marriage isn’t my thing.” And yet he’ll do it all for another woman. A woman he really loves.

But in the end you're glad it’s not you. It isn’t you that has to deal with that man child, it won’t be you who’s stuck with someone who isn’t faithful. In the end you’re the lucky one and finally you feel like you can let it go.

So you dry your eyes and head inside, kicking off your shoes by the door and paying notice to John that’s currently in the living room. You walk over to the couch and sit a comfortable amount of space away from him simply testing the waters and watch the football game he has on.

“How was your appointment?” He says suddenly taking in notice of your puffy eyes.

“Good.” You reply in a whisper with a half smile.

“You’re lying.” He assumed maybe just an asshole client or the outcome wasn’t good.

“It was my ex boyfriend's new pregnant fiancé, who also happens to be the woman he cheated on me with.” You admit with a small laugh at the end with how ridiculous that sounds.

“You got cheated on?” He asks, thoroughly shocked not paying mind to the other details.

“And she’s hot.” You reply looking him in the eye. All he’s thinking is hotter than you?

“Did she know who you were?” This has to be the most mind fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“Not a clue and what's funnier is he recommended me to her.” You laugh again and it’s slightly scary how calm you seem.

“You’re not upset?”

“John I was over that man the minute he cheated on me. I’m only upset over all the time I lost wanting things he said he never wanted but what he meant was he never wanted that with me.” You say quietly between the two of you like it’s a secret.

“His loss.” he says, offering you a small smile.

“I guess.”

“No doll I know.” You don’t know what to make of that comment and just smile back at him.

————-

Later that night after a long shower you step onto the outside patio for some fresh air not noticing John smoking a cigar beside you.

“Jesus!” You jump slightly at the sight of his looming shadow.

“At this point just expect me to be everywhere.” He laughs as he exhales the puff of smoke.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You reply before taking in the sight before you. John in Levi’s, a thermal and brown leather jacket, thick fingers holding a cigar between them lightly tapping it to drop the excess ash.

“I’m sorry, does it bother you?” He asks suddenly, concerned about whether that was in the policy or something.

“No, not at all.” You smile shivering at the breeze that blows through the air.

He offers the cigar between his fingers by gesturing it towards you, you’ve smoked cigarettes but this thing looked like a cigarette on steroids. Nonetheless you didn’t decline the offer and hesitantly wrapped your lips around it giving it a small puff letting the earthy flavor consume your taste buds as you exhale.

John watches you with longing eyes. Truthfully he expected you to grab it from him but instead you toked it straight from his fingers and shit it was hot. The way your lips wrapped around the very end had him running hot suddenly. The layers he wore were becoming overbearingly warm.

“Do you ever wish you chose a normal career?” The question left your lips before you could think about why you were asking it and he clears his dirty mind before answering.

“Not really, my job makes me feel like I have purpose and although my hands get dirty it’s for a good cause.” You nod as you look up into the blue sky that’s slowly becoming darker.

“You do have purpose outside your job though you know that right?” You look him in the eye for a mere second then back up.

He’s taken aback slightly by your statement and stays silent. He lets it settle in his thoughts and feelings. Wondering what prompted you to say it in the first place.

“Thankyou.” He replies shortly after.

“You're welcome.” You reply gently.

“I’m going to head inside, don’t be out here too long you’ll get sick.” You say sliding the door open and he laughs in return. If you even had the slightest idea of the weather he’s lived in.

———

You woke up the next morning bright and early, currently stood in the kitchen brewing hot water for tea and setting the coffee machine on. One for you, one for John. He was surprisingly still asleep although it also is still very early. He never sleeps past 7.

As you turn the heat off the stove, knocking sounds at the front door. Maybe a package you assumed as you made your way down the hall peeking through the small hole to see who’s out there and to your surprise it was a woman.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She looks at you a bit taken aback.

“Does John Price live here?” She asks as her blonde hair blows in the cold breeze.

“Yeah?”

“I need to speak to him.”

“Okay I’ll be right back.” Was this a lover of John’s, maybe an ex wife or something. You knock softly at his door and nothing so you knock a little louder. Before you hear a grunt and the squeak of the hardwood floors.

“Morning, y’alright?” He asks with a deep sleepy voice.

You take notice of His messy hair and pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips so you practically beg and will yourself to not look at his body.

“Yeah sorry there’s a woman at the door for you.” You reply smiling when you notice the sleep marks on the side of his face.

“Oh okay let me just put a shirt on, tell her I’ll be right out.” He can already guess who it is and quietly curses to himself. No peace of his ever lasted long.

You relay the message to her and offer her to come inside which she politely accepts but goes no further than the entrance.

“I’m Kate by the way.” She offers her hand to you.

“Oh nice to meet you Kate, are you a friend of John’s?” You pry.

“Oh yeah, a longtime one.” You should’ve known.

“We’ve been working together since he was a lieutenant and that was ages ago.” She laughs and you feel light with relief for whatever reason.

“Laswell.” A deep voice sighs out from behind her.

“Well don’t be too excited to see me.” She says to him.

You get the message to exit the room and do so. He walks with her to the kitchen, offers her a drink then they both go to his office and from the sound of it have a pretty heated conversation. Not that you were eavesdropping or anything.

———-

It was hours before she left and when she did John didn’t seem too happy. You walk to the door a bit after you hear it shut. John stands there running a hand through his hair.

“You okay?” You stupidly ask as he rubs his forehead still standing in front of the door although she left 10 minutes ago.

“Yeah doll I’m alright.” He sounds tired and bothered.

“Okay.” You begin to turn around getting the feeling he doesn’t want you there.

“Wait, actually I have to leave tomorrow for a while..” He replies quickly.

“Oh.” You try not to sound too disappointed.

“I’ll leave you a check for six months, if I’m gone longer my checkbook is in the bedside drawer. If you need assistance with anything I have a friend you can call please don’t do it yourself or have someone else do it.” He says as you stand there not getting past the eight month part.

“Six months or longer?” He meets your eyes seeing a hint of sadness.

“Yeah that’s what I can expect.” You suck your bottom lip between your teeth for a second not really knowing how to reply.

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” He replies at the random change in topic.

“Would you like to order too much food and watch a movie?” You ask again.

“Sure?”

“I mean if you’re leaving for months and you seem upset about it then it’s serious and when’s the next time you’ll eat good food, you know?” You explain.

“Italian?”

“Italian.”

——————-

You both sit on the living room couch in the dim ambient light while “How to lose a guy in 10 days” plays on the TV, your choice. Empty boxes once filled with pasta and bread now are mostly empty. You tell John every time one of your favorite parts is coming on but not like you even needed to. He can tell by the anxious shake of your foot and slightly raised eyebrow.

“So does he ever find out that it’s for the em magazine and does she find out it’s for a bet?” He asks midway through the movie.

“You’ll have to watch it.” You whisper.

He laughs and for a moment in time he feels content, at ease for once. He feels like this is the moment he’ll recall in the next eight months when nights are cold and he’s spent.

Your eyes are drifting closed before the movie is over and he watches you find sleep then returns his attention to the tv determined to finish the movie. Once all is done he picks the containers up off the floor quietly and turns the tv off kneeling to the floor to wake you.

“Doll let’s get you to bed.” He whispers in the dark. You're slightly disappointed you fell asleep but your drowsy mind doesn’t let you think too deeply as you bid him a goodnight and head to bed.

————-

The next morning he was ready to leave at 4AM. Big duffel bag in hand and a backpack. He thinks of waking you to say goodbye and even walks to your door. But he doesn’t not because he doesn’t want to but because he won’t want to leave if he does. Internally he curses himself for wasting so much time avoiding you the previous weeks.

So he writes a quick note and of course the promised check and heads on his way.

—————-

Next chapter is already written and I’m so excited at the build up!!

Comments and reposts are always appreciated<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic

#angst #captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost cod

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