#but I feel like that's understandable if it's LITERALLY ON YOUR BED

[milkmily]

Make you feel good?ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──────────────────────────

Mr. Crawling X Fem reader

Smut cuz I want this man. Oral(reader receiving), fingering, praising, messy sex bro it's just super goofy, Mr. Crawling has a cold body so everything about him is cold, unprotected sex, PiV, I like to think he's super loud in bed, he has a long black tounge here, And I believe that's all for now :)

I played the game and omg I'm literally so obsessed over him like omg omg I love him sm

You were stressed. Tensed up.

And Mr Crawling saw this. But you'd always give him a smile whenever he asked if you were okay, if you had any pains. You were in bed, the curtains pulled as Mr. Crawling was on the floor behind them.

You had told him you just wanted some privacy for a bit. He was confused but he smiled at you. You smiled back at him and pulled the curtains. At first it was quiet. Maybe you just needed to rest a bit in private. He would have left if you asked him but that's okay. He heard some small shuffling and weird sounds. You were making sounds. You usually make these sounds when you have these ‘ scary dreams’, as you call them.

“Just wake me up when you hear me screaming or making sounds.” You told him once. You weren't exactly screaming but you were making weird sounds. He goes up to the bed as he peaks through the curtains and he sees you. You weren't wearing any clothes. Aren't you cold? You usually say you get cold when you don't have clothes on. The sheet wasn't even on you.

You were making weird sounds, your hand down between your legs as the other hand was cupping your breast. He keeps watching you. He's curious as to what you are doing. You were Whimpering, biting your lip, eyes, clothes as your head was thrown back. Your hand was rubbing small circles, your feet were curled, you were sweating as well. “Ah- Oh my-” You were so lost in your own pleasure you didn't even feel the bed Move a bit. You thought it was just you. You were so close. So so close. And then you hear Mr Crawling. you open your eyes and scream as you grab the sheets. “W-What are you doing here?! I-” he grabs on to the sheets and pulls them. He giggles as he looks down at your body. His hands go to your stomach, making you jump.

He's so cold!

Goosebumps all over your body. You look at him and let him continue. His hands move slowly up to your chest and you moan. His cold hands feel so nice on your warm body. “You Feel…good?” He asks and you nod. “Yes.” You say. He giggles and brushes his thumb over your nipple. You moaned and felt his other hand rub up and down on your thigh. You open your legs a bit more and try to move your hips to his hand. You wanted him to touch where you wanted him to. You whine as you grab his hand and move the tip of his fingers to your clit. You moved them in small circles. Fuck, he's so cold but it feels good.

He watches you as you move his hand to your wet slicks. He smiles and looks at your face. You looked like you were feeling good. No pain. Good. Pleasure. He starts to move his fingers by himself and you move your hand to cup your breast. “Good?” He asks again and you simply reply With a moan. He will simply take that as a yes. And as he watched your body move under him, he felt weird too. A good weird. He grins and moved hus fingers down to where was even more wet. You gasp at his cold touch and look at him. “Mr. Crawling- wait- um.” He stopped and tilts His head to the side. “Me make you feel good?” He asks and you nod. “Just, one.” You say as you hold a finger up. You grab his hand and show him. “One.” You say.

“One.” He repeats with you, just in his own language. He looks down and allows your hand to show him. You moved his long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp. Jesus, his fingers are so long. And honestly, his cold touch makes it feel even better. “Out.” You say as you move his hand out. “In.” And push it back in. You keep repeating as you whimper.

He moved his hand by himself, understanding now. He looks at you and sees your face. You had this expression on you that was just pure bliss. An expression he has never seen from you. He wants to see it more. He looks down at your wet cunt, covering His finger with your own cream. He starts to move faster, making you moan louder. “Ah- Yes, so good, good!” You moan as you hold on to his shoulder. He tilts his head and grins. He wonders… how would you taste? Sweet? sour? disgusting? No, you would never taste like that. You'd probably taste amazing. Just the thought of that made him lick his lips. He goes between your legs and lifts them up, putting them on his shoulder. “Wait! What are you doing?” You ask surprised and see his face closer to your dripping cunt. What would you smell like? He obviously knows you smell nice, but he needs to smell you better, closer. He needs you close to him. He needs to be inside you.

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

“Are you smelling me?” You ask, a bit creeped out. He looks at you and nods. “Good.” He says as he continues to smell. Oh, you smell amazing. You smell so good. You see him open his mouth and feel something cold and wet go between your folds that caused you to jump. He stopped as stood there. He grins and He grabs your hips. He hurriedly brings them closer To his face. You yelped and moaned as you felt his tongue lick your clit. “Y-Yeah, t-there. You're doing go- ah oh, you're doing good.” You moan as you move your hips. Mr. Crawling whimpers as he keeps licking your. Your praises had him feeling weird, weak, not a bad way. A good way. A good type of feeling that he wants to hear and feel more. His long tongue swirls around your small bud. He looks down at your aching hole and pushes his tongue, causing you to yelp once Again.

He seriously likes surprising you a lot.

You run your hands through his hair. Hearing him whimper just meant he liked your hands on his hair, so you kept going through his long black hair. You move your hips up and down, trying to reach your High, you need to. Fuck, all these random jump scares and random events. It just made you so stressed up. How long has it been since you've ever even felt this good?

Your ex couldn't even go down on you and Mr. Crawling is here, eating you up as if you were his first meal in years. You felt so loved and wanted with him. Because with him, he made you feel wanted. He Makes you feel good. He makes you feel so loved. You hold his hand and lock fingers with him as you throw your head back. You're close, so fucking close. You moan and gently tug at his hair, your thighs Starting to close. But he keeps them apart with only one of his arms. “I'm close! I'm so close!” You whine as you rub yourself into his nose, coming on his tounge. He's panting like a dog, droll and your juices dripping down from his chin onto the bed sheets. He pulled away and looked at you, who was panting.

“You, use me.” He says. You looked at him puzzled as he got on the bed and moved his head down. You looked down and saw a very obvious huge tent under his black gown. Oh god. “Please.” He says as he lifts up the gown to reveal his long cock, it twitches as precum drips out from The angry mushroom tip.

ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──

Honestly you don't even know who is loud right now. You or him. He's moaning and Whimpering so loud, it just turns you on way more. You were on top of him, your legs open as you squat down on his cock, your hand on his chest to support yourself. He was moaning as his hands moved to your hips to try and help you more. His own hips moving up from time to time to feel you and be deeper inside of you.

you look down to see how your pussy would sink into his cock. God, he felt so good, he was making you feel good. You have to let him know, you already know how much he adores to be praised by you. “Good- ah! So good! You- good!” You moan as you feel his wet cock go in and out of you. And suddenly you feel something cold and goopy. You looked at him and said, “you came?”

But all he does is hold your hips and move his own on to yours. His moans became louder. It was messy. So goopy. You could hear the squish sounds that came every time you sank in, your skins slapping with the wet sounds. Honestly, it turned you on way more. You moved one of his hands to your breast that wanted attention just as much as your hips wanted them. He holds them and plays with your nipples, his long tongue swirling around them as he whimpers and moans. Your nipples got even harder as you felt his cold tongue.

You couldn't think anymore, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock hit your g-spot. Your legs give up in even trying. But he didn't give up, he grabbed your ass as he held and moved his hips upwards, faster and much harder. You scream as your eyes roll back even more. The bottom of his cock was covered with your cream. “T-There! Like that!” You yelled and he continued, not changing his pace. You hold tightly to his shirt as he holds the flesh Of your ass tightly, Whimpering and groaning as his cock keeps going in and out of your pussy.

Without even saying anything, you cum On his cock, soon feeling his cold cum shooting inside of you again. You whimper and whine at every touch, panting as you try to catch your breath.

Mr. Crawling lets you lay down on the bed and looks at you. “You, you feel good.” He says. “I want more.” He says as he spreads your legs open to reveal his own cum and your juices spilling out of you.

“More.” He says.

You smiled And nodded. “More.”

Mr. Gap heard and saw it all lol.

Hey @caotictimmy , I expect those feet in 3 to 5 business days.

[milktiicup]

Hear me out about potentially getting pregnant because of Mr. Crawling! I wonder how he’d act.. is it even possible for him to do so? Would he realise the state of his partner?

(Feel free to ignore omg so sorry for ANOTHER ask..)

-🦁 anon!!

one, two, three!

“You, me, little human…”

warnings. pregnancy!!!! duh!!!! reader is still ungendered tho but obv is carrying a baby

It’s not possible to get pregnant by a ghost, right? Right?

You take a seat at the side of the bathtub, and drop the test to the floor. You hold your head in your hands, fingers digging into your scalp. You let out a growl of a sigh, dragging a hand down your face. Not only do you have so many questions of how it was even biologically possible, what the hell is the kid gonna come out like? Human? Monster? Some half half amalgamation?

How the fuck are you gonna explain this to Mr. Crawling?!

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. Speak of the devil...

“Long time room. Worry you. You okay?” he says.

“I’m okay!” slips out of your mouth without thinking, and you curse under your breath. Just what the hell are you doing, and what the fuck are you going to do?

You can’t blame yourself for having the hots for Mr. Crawling - he’s completely obsessed with you! And he’s… really cute. He even sleeps in your bed, for the love of God. You two were totally gonna bone anyway! Like seriously, how are you even meant to explain the concept of a condom to him when the language he speaks has like one hundred words? Matter of fact, how are you meant to explain pregnancy?

“You not okay,” he insists from outside the door.

The panic swirls in your chest, the silence on the other side of the door is heavy. You can almost picture him out there, frowning, his hair slightly dishevelled, his head tilted as he waits for a response. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. This situation was impossible.

If it was literally anything else, anything else but a baby, you’d just pretend it didn’t exist.

You unlock the bathroom door and open it wide for him to crawl inside. You slump on the floor, back against the tub and pick the test back up again.

“You sad,” Mr. Crawling mumbles, slotting himself beside you. He reaches a long arm around your shoulder, pulling you tight to his chest. It’s comforting, you think, even if his heart doesn’t beat. His cool touch is grounding.

You sigh and clutch his kimono. “Problem,” you utter, closing your eyes. “Big problem.”

“Problem? You hurt?” he asks, his voice softer now, searching.

You shake your head, fiddling with the test in your lap. “Not hurt. Just… confused. Scared.”

His fingers brush against your face, tilting it gently toward him. Despite his eyeless visage, you can feel the weight of his focus on you, as if he’s trying to see through your words to the heart of the matter. “Me help. You talk.”

Clutching the test, you find the courage to attempt to explain, “So, uhm… remember when we were close? Like… really, really close?” You tug at his kimono. “Uhm... close with no clothes?”

“Close… no clothes,” he replies, slowly. His lips curl into a small smile. “Me like close.”

Despite the situation, you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. Of course, he likes it. “Well, uhm… Uhm…” God, this was really hard. “You, me- one, two. You, me- make three.” You hold up the test. “Make little human.”

There’s a prolonged silence in the air. You gulp. He’s uncharacteristically still.

“Three?”

“Three… You, me, little human. Little us.”

He tilts his head, his fingers brushing your hand as if to better understand the strange object you’re pretended him with. “Tiny us?”

You nod, clutching the test tighter. “Yeah. Like… part me, part you. Together. In here.” You gesture toward your stomach, cheeks burning.

His focus shifts to your abdomen, and he hovers his hand over your stomach. “In you,” he murmurs, the words heavy with wonder. “Little human.”

“I’m scared,” fumbles out of your mouth before you can think. “Really scared, Crawling.”

Mr. Crawling freezes, his long fingers hovering above your stomach as if he’s afraid to touch. Then his hand settles gently, his cool palm pressing against you, gentle, careful. His other arm wraps around you tighter.

“No scared,” he says firmly, his voice more resolute than you’ve ever heard it. “Me here. Always. Me help you. Help little human.”

Okay,” you whisper, clutching at his kimono. The tears don’t go further than the tip of your eyelashes. Mr. Crawling is quick to wipe them away. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Together,” he repeats. He looks at your stomach, a flicker of curiosity and pride in his expression. “Tiny us… strong. Like you.”

You let out a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “Maybe like you, too. But let’s hope it doesn’t have your hair. It’s gonna be hell to brush.”

He doesn’t quite understand the joke, but the faint smile on his lips stays, and for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be okay.

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader.

dean had been feeling down for quite some time now. he was quieter than usual, his snarky and teasing comments basically being reduced to zero. he was like a shadow of himself, closing up in his routine.

wake up. coffee. hunting. booze. go to sleep. repeat.

and it was like that over and over again.

like he was dead inside.

you knew he was hurting — as an angel, you could sense those things even though you weren’t sure what they meant exactly. but you were pretty sensitive to them, especially when it was dean who was experiencing such mental turmoil. it was breaking your heart even though it was literally impossible. you were an angel, a celestial being too powerful for a mortal to wrap their head around it.

yet you were sad when your favourite human was suffering.

it didn’t suit him. and you didn’t understand why he had to go through so much. in your eyes, he was just this precious human who was dealing with all your questions and things you were curious about. he was there for you. and you wanted to be there for him.

which is why you decided to cheer him up a little. you wished you could take all his pain away, double it and give it to the next person (coughs john winchester), but (unfortunately), as an angel, you couldn’t hurt other people. that wouldn’t be good. and you didn’t want to deal with that right now — dean was your main priority.

so you were limited to doing what you did best — healing troubled souls.

however, you weren’t exactly sure how to approach him. he didn’t want you using your powers on him — he thought it was a waste of time, and he didn’t like supernatural forces messing with him in general. even if they were coming from his little birdie. he had some limits.

that’s how you were back at the starting point, sitting in the war room and silently debating what to do.

you tapped your fingers on the table, your lips pursed out as you hummed some song you overheard playing on the radio while returning from a hunt with dean. you learned to love car drivers, especially the late–night ones, with music faintly playing in the back, as you admired the sky and all the stars. dean showed you so many amazing things about humans and their customs. and you just wished you could bring something into his life as well.

you even debated recreating some scenes from his favourite movies. cas told you about them, but you weren’t sure why would dean have to become a pizza man all of a sudden. so that idea was also put in a dumpster.

you couldn’t figure out a single thing you could do for him. with a groan of frustration, you stood up and headed to his room to simply ask what he’d want you to do to make him feel better. that was probably the best idea. he, for sure, must’ve wanted something.

in a blink of an eye, you arrived at his door. you barged in without knocking, as always, and looked around the room. and then, your heart just broke. dean was lying in his bed, his hand draped over his face as he just lay there. you didn’t know for how long he’d been like that, and you noticed that he was still in the same clothes that he’d been wearing three days ago.

yeah, it was bad.

“deano? what are you doing?” you asked softly, nudging his shoulder with your finger. he just sighed and looked at you with those tired, green eyes.

“not now, birdie. just go,” he said, pushing you away. but you didn’t budge, not even a little.

“no. you look like shit. i can’t let you be like that,” as always, you were being a little too straightforward.

“thank you. that’s exactly what i needed to hear, pigeon. i’m being serious, just leave me alone,” his voice grew stern. but you didn’t care. you weren’t about to give up.

“hey, i did that. i left you alone this past week, just like you asked. but enough of that. you went past your limit,” you huffed and basically lifted him from the bed as if he weighed nothing.

at this point, dean didn’t even try to protest. you were an angel. you’d most certainly beat his ass if he started a fight — you wouldn’t tho — you were too sweet for your own good.

yeah, you were doing a good job proving to him that not all angels were assholes. you were his little birdie, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world. however, he knew damn well that you deserved better than him. you deserved someone on your level, someone who’d be good for you — not an old, washed-up hunter with trauma and plenty of issues. he’d just corrupt you. and that was the last thing he ever wanted. you were supposed to stay his sweet angel forever.

you dragged dean to the bathroom and sat him down in the bathtub. you ordered him to take his clothes off, and when he did that, albeit begrudgingly, you filled the tub with warm water.

dean visibly relaxed and closed his eyes, just winding off the pressure he felt on his shoulders those last few days. however, he opened one eye as soon as he felt your fingers treading through his hair, washing it for him.

“darlin’, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, a small smile slowly appearing on his face.

“shush. i’m washing your hair. i think,” you mumbled, biting on your tongue as you tried to wash his hair. he did that for you plenty of times, and you tried your best to repeat those movements for him.

dean chuckled lightly but didn’t say anything. yeah, you were putting a little too much pressure on his head and shoving it from one side to the other — but he didn’t have it in him to correct you. you were too much of a sweetheart, and he knew you were trying your best. so, he’d let that slide.

as you massaged his scalp, he reached for his razor, planning to shave off the scruff on his face. but you were faster and slapped his hand away with a huff.

“huh?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“no. leave that. it looks better that way,” you said matter-of-factly.

and in this exact moment, that characteristic smile of his came up on his lips. he chuckled and ran his fingers through his scruffy cheek.

“you just say that 'cause you love how it scratches your thighs,” he muttered lowly, leaning back with a cocky smirk as he obeyed your order.

and you just blushed heavily, clearing your throat.

oh, he knew damn well you absolutely loved the carpet burn.

a/n: sooo surprise!!! it’s not totally emo lol

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell

[elsecrytt]

Your Heart is Spilling out, Babe

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Summary: You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldn’t work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.

Tags: fwb, smut, angst, YEARNING, requited unrequited feelings (or ARE they) but jk it’s totally no feelings, commitment/abandonment issues, not that it matters because you totally don’t have feelings anyways

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” He asks, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

A hum. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” he lays down next to you, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

You don’t say anything more, eyes already closed.

Satoru’s arm presses your form against his, just barely.

When he wakes up, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

He leaves.

At first, Satoru tries to tell himself it’s a happy coincidence.

After all, isn’t it? His problem has always been the women (and men) who give him a certain kind of look before he gets up to leave.

The ones who text him back first, who read everything instantly, who always want to meet up again. The ones who always, inevitably, start to want something more.

Like him giving them the fuck of a lifetime with someone who could be a real-life supermodel and happens to be the greatest sorcerer on earth wasn’t enough. Granted, they don’t know about the sorcerer thing, but still!

It always turns out like this:

Things are good for a while. Sex is good, he gets attention when he texts them, they both understand this is totally casual, no commitment.

Sometimes he even brings up another hookup he’s going to, just to drive the point home, and he cheers them on when they’re getting some somewhere else, too.

(He’s got no reason to be insecure, after all. He would be anyone’s first choice.)

From there, he can admit some of it is his fault. It’s hard, being as irresistible as he is. Being so devastatingly good-looking and even better in bed.

Having so much humor and personality in his amazing texts (never mind that most of them just react with an emoji or a short haha or an unrelated compliment ��� he drinks it all up just the same).

They start to text him first, which is impressive, considering what a spammer he is. He likes to text them to fill his time, to talk to someone, have his notifications filled with messages of people who want him.

So what if it’s an ego boost? Isn’t that what they’re using him for, too?

But when they start texting him themselves, when they return his style of badgering, it’s not random and rambling. It’s affectionate, personal. They’ve gotten attached, and they want him to be, too.

It’s all nonsense like Saw this and thought of you, and You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and I want to meet up again soon.

He has to stop spamming with memes or selfies or random observations throughout his day, stop talking about shops or cafes he’d like to visit. Sometimes he has to mute their notifications, because when he spams other people, they feel comfortable spamming him.

And then it’s just a matter of how long he spends lying to himself. Because as much of an ass as he is, it’s cruel to let them get attached to him when he can’t really open up entirely. When he doesn’t want anything serious.

In fairness, he had told them from the start. He usually breaks it off only after a few days. He always sends them a message and just blocks them – it’s cleaner that way.

Answering any desperate Please, we can still be friends or No, let’s just hook up again, would give them hope for things he can’t give them.

But you?

You text him You’re the most annoying man I’ve ever met, and leave him on read for two days.

Satoru thinks he’s in love.

Not literally, of course, but in love with the relationship he has with you, which is perfect.

Everything about it is perfect, except for that it’s not going on all the time.

You respond to his memes with your own. Chat with him about cafes and desserts and even keep a handful at your home to treat him with. You text him cat pictures, sometimes return selfies if he’s lucky.

Usually he gets those when he sends the thirst pics, sitting there with a grin that scares Ichiji, absolutely giddy as he watches you type, stop typing – he knows you’re looking for something special to send him back.

It’s surprising, how well he just knows things about you. Maybe that was to be expected, though, with your chemistry.

Sex with you is like nothing he’s ever felt before.

You have this way of tensing up, expression shifting as you’re right about to cum – he thinks by now he’s conditioned by it, that just seeing you make that face could get him over the edge.

He’s fucked hot people before but no one like you. Seeing the same clothes from your cute little selfies slip off, it’s like unwrapping a present he can’t wait to eat up. Makes him salivate like a box of chocolates, like the one truffle package you got one time and made him eat on his knees with his head in your lap, out of your hands.

Fucking you is one of his favorite things ever, right up there with kikufuku and making fun of his coworkers (and students!). You’re a beautiful bend of reactive and pliant, so fun to tease and edge and so rewarding to please.

God, fuck, he wants you. He wants you all the time. All his other hookups are silenced in favor of you, boring conversations abandoned in favor of debating tiramisu and tres leches, and all other sorts of inane things.

What your favorite school subjects are, oddly enough (he supposes he was asking for it, telling you he taught high schoolers).

You like literature, he likes math, and when he hears you talk about it, he almost wants to read some of those novels you like so much. Non-sorcerer politics has never meant anything to him but it matters when he hears you talk about it.

It’s like hearing about a whole separate world with its own struggles. Your opinions are so well-thought out, he can tell just how much you care, and something hums along aside him as he asks questions, nods his head, really listens to what you have to say. It feels so surreal to hear someone whose goals are not so unlike his, when he thinks about it.

Maybe that’s where some of this fondness comes from. Maybe it’s humbling, thinking you want to change your world just as much as he wants to change his, and the only difference is how much people listen.

He can’t imagine not wanting to listen to you. People should listen more. You should run everything, he jokes.

(He’s joking. He’s joking. You don’t know enough to get why he says that twice.)

And then it’s not serious again – when was it ever, really? You talk about your favorite manga and anime and tease each other for your tastes. Maybe talk about episodes or movies you’ve seen together.

He’s admittedly a bit of a movie buff – it’s a real victory when he convinces you to watch one of his old favorites. When he finds out you watched it, he’s excited the whole day to hear what you thought.

You debate what animals you would be; you are definitely a cat – aloof and independent – and you’re quite insistent that he’d be a husky, energetic and annoying and – probably other words you say before he sends you a picture of his dick and you facetime him with some more interesting conversation.

Your days – weeks, months, really – they go on like that, they’re great. Everything is perfect, really.

So when he hears you casually mention you’ve got other dinner plans – when his mind instantly supplies we’re just casual, tease her and hope she gets lucky – the wretched, dark twist in his gut is wholly unexpected.

And he knows instantly. Immediately, really, because he’s just too smart not to.

He knows he doesn’t want you going out with other people. Touching them. Showing them the same faces you show him.

But if he wants you to be his, then he has to ask. And you – you make him wait to hear back.

You never reach out to him first. You open the door with a cool expression, like your heart doesn’t race at the sight of him like his does (he can see it is, he can see it, but his soul is withering at your look like you couldn’t care less).

Satoru doesn’t usually have to ask, not for anything.

People beg to be able to fuck him. They spam when he ghosts them, begging for scraps. He doesn’t have to ask for attention, people shower him in it.

Everyone wants him. They love him. They don’t abandon him along with all their morals and tell him to kill them if he doesn’t like it.

They beg him to stay, and he is the one who leaves.

He’s too much for them. Too much for anyone. You wouldn’t be able to hand him, anyways.

And he can leave any time he wants, he just… doesn’t want to.

(He never wants to leave. He wants it to stay like this, forever. But when does it ever turn out like that?)

Besides, you’re – you also want it to stay casual. Like he told you from the beginning. Probably trying to save your feelings from getting hurt – and can he blame you? Really, with his looks, anyone would be scared to lose him.

So this was just… a happy coincidence. You didn’t want it serious, he didn’t want it, either.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

Satoru’s lip twitches, but it doesn’t manage a smile. It almost feels like you’re kicking him out.

But he knows you’re not, because even if you were the one person on earth who could resist his irresistible charm, he just gave you some absolutely mind-blowing sex.

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru teases, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

He says it playfully, casually, because it is casual. It wouldn’t bother him if you told him to fuck off right then and there. It wouldn’t.

You hum noncommittally. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

If he’s relieved that he can stay, it’s because he’s as exhausted as you are. Because you make him feel good, so fucking good, like he’s on top of the world. Having to leave would just be a mood killer.

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

He is not and never has been. He sleeps three hours a night wakes up by 5am.

It’s never bothered him before. His dreams are not a place he wants to be. But they’ve never hurt him when you were there.

He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him, just barely. Not too tight.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

When he wakes, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

The thing is, you’re awake. He knows that. You’re a light sleeper. Always have been.

He knows you hate morning showers yourself, and always do it at night. Knows what you like for breakfast, how to make it. That you like to sleep in because you have trouble sleeping.

He knows what you think about late at night because you text him about it, because he’s always there texting you, because neither of you can sleep and someone ends up calling and whispering secret scattered thoughts in hushed tones and –

And he honestly doesn’t know, if it’s you or him that slips in the I want to touch you right now, or Want me to kiss it better. Who turns it into sex so things can’t get to be too much.

Satoru would really, really like to think that it’s him, but the truth is that he’s reaching the limit of how believable his lies are, even to himself.

He knows, he knows he knows he knows that if he stayed, you would let him –

(If he repeats it enough it will surely become true.)

– but you both agreed no feelings.

Besides, it’s not like he wants to stay, anyways.

(Why won’t you ask him to come back?)

You know what Satoru is the moment you meet him. It’s not like he’s made any secret of it, either.

A whore. A man-whore, if you will. A player. Whatever it is. He slept with people, drank in all the sex and attention and then went on his merry way.

You get it. This wasn’t the first time you’d met a pretty boy who fucked around, not by a long shot.

He says all casual, no feelings, you smile and nod, and you go back to his place fully expecting to be disappointed because pretty boys usually suck in bed.

And then he fucks you within an inch of your life.

He eats you like a man staved. Hands roving over your skin, groping and squeezing in a way that would be violating, if his beautiful eyes weren’t wild and desperate.

His body is toned and smooth and perfect, unmarred skin that he presses to yours like he’s trying to staunch the bleeding of some invisible wound.

You’ve never felt like this before. Sex has never been this amazing. He props his stupid pretty face up on his elbow and he gives you that stupid charming boyish smirk and asks you if you want to go another round, red-faced and eager. It’s overwhelming and exciting and amazing –

And it’s terrifying, because it’s always like this for him, isn’t it? He just came in and gave you the fuck of a lifetime, but this is just another lay for him.

(But he’s having fun. It’s good for him, too. So why don’t you take what you can get?)

So when he saves his number in your phone, That was awesome, babe, we should do this again sometime, you don’t put a lot of weight into his words. You roll his eyes when he blows you a kiss goodbye, but you don’t delete his number.

Even when he wakes you up with some silly cat meme (god, you hate morning people), somehow you find yourself smiling. You let him know he can get his dick sucked any time if he meows cute enough and woah, maybe you’re coming on too strong –

He sends you an attachment of himself wearing cat ears, striking an obnoxious pose, with a fake tail that he holds by the end in his mouth.

Satoru Gojo, that’s the name. And you do suck his dick, like you promised, but he comes to you determined to get in character, meowing at you, pressing his face into your hands, rubbing into your side, nuzzling your panties while he looks up into your face with a smirk.

It’s a fight to get him on his back and his legs open wide enough for you to settle in. He meows again like a kitty, and purrs like one too when you take his cock into your mouth, hands threading through your hair. Giggling at his own antics.

Your eyes water when you take him, deep, moaning and feeling him shudder at the feeling, long legs squirming on either side of you. He pulls away suddenly, with a pop, laughing when his dick hits the side of your face and you glare at him. Sticking out his tongue.

He looks so young. So heartbreakingly sweet and charming. He pulls you in to settle you on his cock, face-to-face this time, his smile melting into something soft and tacky, sticking to your lips as he kisses his precum away. Infectious delight.

Satoru holds your hands in his, palm to palm, as you ride him in his lap. Face tilted up to look at you with a blush on his cheeks. Blue eyes wide like they have to be, to take you in, as if they aren’t themselves oceans you have to stop yourself from falling into.

You can’t look into his eyes when you cum, when he cums. You’re not sure if he’s looking either.

But you feel him, oh, do you feel him – hands squeezing yours as if in warning, face buried into your neck, a moan that vibrates throughout the both of you.

When you wake up, the next morning, you don’t even mind the fact that he’s still next to you, cuddled up, right beside you. You don’t mind, until you feel him stiffen suddenly, like he’s realized you’re awake, immediately pulling away.

That’s… you’re not sure what it is, since cuddling was obviously okay, so why does he not want to do it while you’re awake? It is too close? Too intimate?

He’d held your hands while he stared deep into your eyes and rocked gently into you last night, but cuddling would be too intimate?

But he smiles that smile before he leaves, stumbling a little bit while he gets dressed, in that goofy way that lanky tall men sometimes do. You even overlook the fact that he’s renamed himself in your contacts. ~ Satoru ~ My Kitten.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid (you’re smiling already), unbearable man. You want to hit him in the face, with your face. Very hard.

Casually, of course. It’s casual between you. No feelings at all.

But then he starts texting you all the time. He double, triple, quadruple texts, with the infuriating shamelessness of someone who’s never been ignored in his life.

Like he’s never worried that the other person is losing interest. He carries himself like it, too, like he knows everyone wants him, and unfortunately, he’s right.

So you tell him he’s annoying and you don’t look at your phone again. Not until he shows up on your doorstep with that pout on his impossibly pretty face.

And you don’t turn him away. Why would you? If he’s going to offer himself on a platter, why not eat up?

You’re just being realistic here. If you fucked him once and never heard from it again, it would still hurt almost as much as it will now. You’ll just be a little lonelier without your texting partner, but you’ll get over it.

There’s other fish in the sea. Even if none of them are as pretty as him, none of them make them laugh like you do. You’re not exclusive. He can see other people, so can you. You’ve made it a point not to ask.

You don’t like what he’s doing now. How he pauses long, makes you wait before telling you to have fun on your date.

How the next time you see him there’s something strange in his eyes, something that leaves him with clawing hands, hungry mouth, eager to leave his marks all over you.

Satoru doesn’t stop texting you, doesn’t stop selfies, thirst traps, prodding little questions and jokes, doesn’t stop obnoxiously demanding (begging?) for your attention.

At first it was an ego boost. Now, it’s terrifying.

Because now he likes you, doesn’t he? He’s interested now. Having fun. Making you feel like he’s jealous, acting like he’s on withdrawal if he goes too long without you, making you feel like someone as beautiful and rich and funny as him could possibly be in love with you.

But he told you in the beginning. Something casual.

Maybe these feelings are real in the moment. But one day they’ll fade, and everything will be yanked right out from under you.

You’ll wonder why he’s getting distant these days. You’ll remember that you never made it official, and sweat over the possibility that he’s seeing someone else. At the end of the day that’s all you’ll be able to do; worry and worry while you’re too afraid to ask.

You’ll wonder what you did wrong. What you did to lose him. How you could go from someone so fascinating, someone he so thoroughly adored and fucked like he was making love, to an afterthought and a stranger, unless you did something wrong? Unless you made a mistake, somewhere along the line?

The mistake of getting attached to him in the first place.

Fuck that. Satoru can develop feelings on his own fucking time. He’ll lose them just as quickly, you can tell.

This isn’t anything more than a hookup to him. He’s an attention whore who likes to hear himself talk, and you’re dumb enough to entertain him because you’re lonely and easily amused, at least when it comes to him.

There’s nothing real here.

You still don’t know where he actually works, outside of some nebulous high school teaching situation. Where he lives. What he does most of the day, what his parents are like. Where he’s from, even. You don’t know if he’s seeing anyone else. He could be married with kids, for all you know.

Not – not that you care. Not that you give a fuck what he’s doing, who he’s fucking, where he is when he’s not with you. You don’t care about him past his dick and what it does to you.

If you did care, you’d only suffer for it. So you draw the line.

You don’t need him, and you want to keep it that way. You don’t want to get attached, and neither does he. So you try to keep him at arm’s length.

Close enough to touch but not so close that your foolish, eager heart can leap out of your chest and into his hands.

Would he still give you that boyish grin when he rejected you? Laugh and let you down gently? Would he say yes and hold your hand while you walked together to the guillotine, the painful end to a relationship that wasn’t supposed to happen anyways? Would he skip away while your heart seized and trembled on the executioner’s block?

He’d look pretty even with blood on his face, you’re sure. But you wouldn’t come out so nicely.

So you don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him for anything. You take what you’re given and you savor it, but you try – oh, god, do you fucking try – to find someone else, something else to occupy your time.

But he’s just too good. You want him. And you don’t get to have him if you ignore his texts and don’t answer when he’s at the door. You don’t get to fuck him if you won’t even let him see you.

So even if you look away, even if your answers are short, even if you don’t let him stay (not that he even wants to) – you have to let him in.

And unlike you, he’s got self-respect. He’s got other options. If he can’t have you, he’ll just fuck other people, so you can’t push him away too much. You have to make him want to come back. You have to make him want to give you more.

But you can’t control what Satoru wants, and that is the problem.

It’s out of your hands, locked securely in his ribcage where you can never get to it.

He doesn’t talk about his life, his history, doesn’t even complain about work during off hours.

Really, it’s already over, isn’t it? Has been, ever since the beginning. You’re just waiting for the inevitable end.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight.” You say, tired. So tired, and warm. Satoru always leaves you like this; loose-limbed and floaty, high enough to feel the drop. “You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru asks, teasing, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

You close your eyes, trying not to think of what his face must look like.

“Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

Satoru’s arm around your form presses you against him, just barely. Not too close. Never too close.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

You can feel it when he wakes up. How his breathing changes, how he stiffens and tenses against you, you tumble out of sleep instantly, lashes fluttering.

You shut them closed again. Relax yourself. You don’t have to get up. You don’t want to get up.

Why isn’t he leaving yet? What’s taking him so long?

There’s this tension that creeps into your chest. Like you can feel each individual breath he takes. Waiting for him to say something, shake you awake – but why would he? And why would you want him to?

You know what this is. You’ve always known.

So you lay there, still, breathing calm and even, until he leaves.

(…Come back. Please come back.)

[whokilledsamara]

May I request a NSFW alphabet for our deranged, red ass, momo-eyed princess Mr Scarletta from Homicipher👉👈˃ᴗ˂

MR. SCARLETELLA NSFW ALPHABET

a Mr. Scarletella nsfw alphabet. {an : omg.. why ofc.. hes sooo hot i love him. also funny words >< we need more porn of this man in general, also im working on a hc fic for him~~~~ if nobody will write for him then i will!!! ^•^}

warnings! : stalking, non-conish..? more like dub-con, rough sex, cunnilingus, blowjobs, yandere, blood kink, knife play, hes a kinky mf, abuse play, asphyxiation, afab and amab genitalia described, sadism kink, red. everywhere. miss-use of an umbrella.... looks around nervously

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

it really depends on his mood. USUALLY he is somewhat decent at it. he doesnt really understand the human need for aftercare, so most he will do is probably clean you and cuddle you on certain occasions.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

for him, he likes his hands. and his height, but mainly his hands. {plus you complimented them once, so it made him like them more.}

on YOU, other than your face, definitely your waist and neck. he likes how fragile you are. also he likes YOUR height. small.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

due to his sheer size, he cums a lot. not TOO much, and not as much as the others, but enough to fill you to the brim.

he almost always cums inside, unless its a blowjob. if it is, he likes to pull out and cum on your face or chest. make sure to have your tongue out though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he really wants to fuck you unconscious. though not really a secret, he makes it obvious.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

you would be his first time, being a ghost and all. but hes a very fast learner so expect him to be a beast in bed {or wherever} once he finds those spots and what turns you on.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

any position that he can choke you in. or shove his fingers in your mouth. he would take another position if you offered though. he just wants you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

even outside of sex, he isn't humorous. hes always serious with that stare that he does {soo sexy.. (´﹃｀)}

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not a lot, but its there. nice red happy trail and hair where it would be normally.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

well he's always romantic. in his own... creepy way. but he does love you. too much. in an obsessive, stalker way. so yes, he is.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn't, nor does he feel the need to, but if he finds YOU touching yourself.. thats a special occasion, he WILL whip it out and start stroking himself then. and only then.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

oh dear.. blood kink, abuse kink, impact kink, vouyerism, asphyxiation, degradation, cnc, etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

either his "space" or somewhere random. {he secretly hopes someone will find you}

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

coprophilia, vomit. thats literally it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving. you are his QUEEN. {king if you prefer.} he is a beast with his mouth. he would do anything you ask, much like Mr. Crawling.

he does enjoy receiving though, loves to see you go down on him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough. will only slow down if you BEG him to.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

anything to get you and him off. he does prefer to take his time with you, so usually he will just teleport you somewhere.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

obviously. i mean its Mr. Scarletella that we are talking about. {drools...} he would do anything risky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

doesnt have stamina, could go for hours honestly. he can cum pretty fast if he wants to, but either way he just wants YOU.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no he doesnt own any. {unless you count his umbrella... well get to that later..}

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh all the time. constantly teasing you and trying to get you horny. if you tease him back then its OVER for you.. good luck walking ><

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not loud at all, his breath may hitch and he might groan softly every now and then, but he wants to listen to your noises more than anything.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he will use his umbrella handle as a "dildo" of sorts. wants to watch you attempt to put it in. the end is curved, so its fun to watch you struggle. he will force it if he has to.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

oo,, big boy. hes over 8 feet tall, so its a given. his shaft is around 8-9 inches maybe, a darker tip and maybe 4 inches wide.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

hes only horny if either you are, or if you do something that turns him on.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

doesnt need sleep, he is a ghost. does enjoy watching you sleep. hes weird, per se. will cuddle up to you and get you as close as possible.

[ssentimentals]

cheol + “quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that." pleaseee 🌷

hi cheri! thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

fluff prompt: 'quit smiling at me, i can't stop messing my sentences when you look at me like that.'

'cheol, why are you looking up?' you question, confused. 'i'm literally right here.'

seungcheol is the one who suggested to rehearse for the upcoming musical together and yet he's the one who's acting like you are not even here. you originally thought that this study thing will help you two feel more comfortable around each other as main leads, but now you're not so sure; especially when seungcheol won't even look you in your eyes.

'uh-' seungcheol closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 'sorry.'

'i can go,' you suggest, looking for solutions to save you two from awkwardly hovering around each other. 'it's okay if this thing doesn't work for you, by the way. we can just rehearse seperately-'

'no!' seungcheol interrupts, so loudly that it startles you. 'i don't want to- i mean, i want us to rehearse together. it's just...' he drifs off, not saying anything else.

you wait patiently, but nothing else comes out and well. time is money or whatever business people say. clearing your throat, you try for the second time: 'i think we are both used to rehearsing alone, so it's understandable that having me here throws you off. you keep stumbling on your parts.' it wasn't meant to sound offensive but it kind of does come out this way and your eyes widen: 'oh my god, i'm not like, dragging you down now. i'm just trying-'

'it's okay,' seungcheol huffs out a disbelieving kind of laugh, shaking his head. 'it's just- you stare at me. and you're smiling.'

you blink. '..okay?' realization suddenly strikes you. 'am i making you nervous?'

'quit smiling at me, i can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that!' he lets out, sounding very close to a whine.

for a second both of you don't move. then in the next one you're rolling on the ground with laugher and seungcheol is kneeled next to his bed, hiding his face with his hands, mortified. it's the cutest thing you've ever heard in your life and you crawl on your fours towards seungcheol, smiling from ear to ear. 'i'm not laughing at you, please don't think so. it's just was so cute, oh my god. i'm not laughing at you, i promise! cheol, look at me?'

seungcheol looks up, face red and pretty. you coo, taking his hand in yours. who said that boys should always initiate everything, huh? 'i don't mean to embarrass you, i promise. you are very cute, really. wanna go grab coffee now? we can rehearse later.'

seungcheol looks shocked at first but then shock gets replaced with a big, most handsome smile. 'yeah, let's go.'

you grin and he grins back, interlacing your fingers together. 'let's.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[itsabouttimex2]

So, for the Eclipse Kings,

I feel that it is going to be very interesting when the kings go from seeing you(the reader) as a hanger on to their son, to their other child. I don't know how you plan to go about it, but this is an idea I had:

So, you're stuck here, for now at least. MK doesn't want to let you go, and the kings feel indebted to you enough to make sure you don't, like, starve. It could be worse, but you don't really want to stay.

And good news! You probably won't have to. You're not their kid. They don't care about you, beyond a sense of obligation, really. And while MK is basically your brother, siblings don't always live right next to each other. You can leave and promise to come back or something. Macaque, at least, will probably be glad to get your pathetic, scarred, human self out of his pristine home.

It'll be fine. You can work with this.

You can work with the mat on the floor, still more comfortable than your old hut, and the clothes not quite made for you, but still better than anything you had, and the room that isn't yours, but it isn't cold, either. You'll probably leave in the spring, after this winter.

And then, something changes. Because things are starting to properly fit you, the only human in this palace, now.

You have a bed, now, and a room to go with it(although you and MK still tend to sleep closer together than not).

And you don't tend to hallucinate, but you must have, just now. Or else Macaque just introduced you and MK as his "kids".

And you can't be their kid, and be free. They just got MK back, after assuming he was dead. You've seen how closely they watch him. He'll probably never leave, or at least not anytime soon, and never for long.

Maybe you're misunderstanding things, you think. After all, they're not heartless. Wukong has always been prone to getting in other's personal space, surely him picking you up to show you something he thought you would like is a normal extension of that.

And even if they did care, you're human. That's got to be an issue, right? No one would accept a human as part of Flower Fruit Mountain's royal family. Also, you won't live half as long as them. Why would they get attached?

However, when someone is even half as powerful as these kings, it turns out that these are solvable problems, really.

And they have never been good about losing what's theirs. Especially not now that they decided they have more to lose.

(Sorry if this doesn't fit with what you're planning. I just had lots of thoughts.)

Eclipse Kings

Growing Accustomed

(Anon, this is exactly it. It’s little things. And I love how you write BTW?? It’s so good!)

The starting disparity is undeniable, even though it’s not malicious and sometimes necessary, and honestly even understandable.

MK gets steak with broth and rice. You get porridge and diced fruit. Fair- he’s got a stronger stomach than you, because you always made sure that he ate better, ate cleaner, ate more. Your stomach isn’t adjusted to anything above the literal bare minimum. He can process meat without losing his guts, you can’t.

So it’s actually the furthest thing from unfair, given that it’s custom catered to your needs. Hell, they even mix in honey to make it more palatable.

But only because they owe you.

So it’s nothing more than repaying a debt when they ensure that the maidservants have a full list of food appropriate to serve you, each meal shared on MK’s insistence- it’s nothing.

Not yet.

Your mat is nothing special to them, and at first they doubt that you’ll sleep well- then the kings see how deeply you rest, how hard it is to rouse you. It’s perfectly cozy, not to them, but to you. MK tells them you slept on the ground before, left the little bedding available to him. You slept cold and hungry, but he was warm and fed, draped in whatever you could scrounge up.

So they plan to make things a little cozier, maybe only to see how you’ll react, maybe only because MK refuses to use his own bed and instead sleeps on your chest, maybe only because every minute spent with or around you is another reminder that they owe you their son’s life a hundred times and several years over.

Which has Macaque wonder if you can’t be a little cozier, because maybe he owes you some comfort after the hell you endured to provide for his son.

He calls you to the washroom one day and gives you a few of his nicer supplies, a soothing cream for wounds in one jar, a lovely citrus perfume in another. Things he has because Wukong convinced him to love himself enough to indulge in luxuries, now shared with some little mortal that didn’t know such things existed before now.

You have scars, the same as him. Macaque pointlessly “punished” himself for the death of a son still-living, hungry and cold and dirty. You earned yours the hard way, by living as best you could to take care of MK.

You have the scars for the same reason, but yours are a thousand times more earned, less piteous, and far, far worse.

So he teaches you how to take care of them, stretches to work through when they start to ache, what to eat to loosen tension in the body, so on and so forth.

But only because he owes you. Nothing more.

Not yet.

(But you use that perfume each day, and the monkey certainly doesn’t miss how you brighten at the little taste of luxury.)

And MK- “Qi Xiaotian”, they say, trying hard to drill that lovely (it really is lovely, but you don’t think it fits him) name into your mouth, but it tastes bitter and wrong. He’s only ever been your little “Monkie Kid”, even before his years-long illusion (glamour, some call it) wore off.

MK, with all his love for you, anchors you in place.

Fine. That’s fine.

You can justify it. Reason your way through staying, never realizing that you’re adjusting.

You can’t leave because it’s too cold. Because you’re too hurt. Because there’s no easy way to find food. Because, a dozen times over, and the truth is that the only thing keeping you here is the prince.

“Qi Xiaotian”, alight with gleeful laughter, who refuses to sleep unless you’re within arm’s reach, who insists you share every new toy or treat the kings bring him. “You’re my big sibling,” he says, voice bright with conviction. “Why wouldn’t I share?”

It’s easy to let that logic soothe you. After all, MK’s the real reason you’re here. Without him, the kings wouldn’t even know you existed.

So you settle in a little more.

It’s not like you get used to all this, after all.

And then Sun Wukong grows a little more doting. Now your food is somewhat like theirs, tender cuts of meat served beside your porridge to help the adjustment back to solid and hearty food. Fruit juice in place of water. Bread with jam. Only a little bit of each, but your plate is more appealing, and you enjoy those meals a little more each day with all the new things you get to try.

He even grows playful once or twice, clinking his gilded goblet against your glass, pretending to toast with you.

You smile. It’s not the sort of fun orphans like you often get to have.

(He’s starting to cherish your smile. How cute! How sweet! No wonder you cheer his little Xiaotian up!)

You get tucked in sometimes, when you fall asleep and sprawl over MK, who cuddles into your chest like he always has- this means subjecting yourself to nightly check-ups from the kings, but they come with glasses of water and fluffy blankets, so who cares?

They tuck you both in, mostly because any form of separation would be impossible.

And maybe because it’s just cute to see their kids sleeping happily and; more importantly, safely.

Then Macaque wants to change your wardrobe. He calls you in one day, right back to the washroom from before.

Has it been months already?

Weren’t you supposed to leave when spring came blooming through?

He drapes a new hanfu over your shoulders- the last one was shabbier, duller. It was a non-distinct blue and dull white, but this one is black with gold embroidery. He ties a silk sash around your waist and then pulls a fur-lined cape over your shoulders.

It’s warm. It has to be warm, because there’s a cold chill coming in and you’ll “need” to be comfortable through it. There’s no explanation given as to why it matters to him, so you just assume that the king is being a good host.

After all, it’s not like he cares about you.

…right?

It can’t be.

But he goes a step further and tends to your hair with a vast array of implements and products, trimming the uneven edges and setting it with many different creams for restoration. And then applies a few balms for your lips, your nose…

So eventually you’ve whiled the whole day away being doted on and in some manner “soothed”, feeling genuinely and honestly good, and even-

Pretty.

You’ve never felt pretty before.

His hand, harsh as it was days prior, gently swipes the tears gathering in your eyes, then pats your head.

(And he starts wondering if maybe having an older child wouldn’t be so bad.)

And maybe when Wukong is talking to Azure and Yellowtusk about some new invention they’re brainstorming to improve the lives of mortals, some form of metal that always twists to point north, keeping them from losing their way in untamed wildernesses and winding paths. The science of it goes over his head, but he nods along anyways- anything for his Brotherhood.

And you come along to tell him something maybe that trends to “unimportant”, given that you just tug his sleeve with a mild expression, content to wait- and Wukong, really without thinking, scoops you up and sits you on his hip, motioning out a little bounce here and there.

It should be embarrassing (and it is, a little), but… he’s warm, you’re waiting for his attention anyways, and it’s not like either of the demons he’s speaking to mind, so… you just don’t argue.

But even when they leave he doesn’t put you down, and instead cradles you again, like he did the first night you both met, like a father holds his newborn baby, one arm supporting your back and legs, the other your neck. He asks what you need, and smiles when you tell him.

And even when he goes off to do whatever it is that you needed, well… Sun Wukong still does not put you down.

But maybe he just wasn’t thinking on it.

(If you were a frog, the water would be nearing a boil.)

And then there are parental threats, little idle “warnings” that they don’t seem intent on following through with.

Threats that your mouth with be scrubbed with soap, or that you’ll be sent to the corner, or taken over a knee, or some other generic punishment that a parent wouldn’t think twice about administering… but surely they aren’t being serious.

Surely.

After all, those are things parents do to their children, and you are not their child.

So you accept it as “teasing”.

The suggestions that the kings might see fit to correct your behavior slowly become reality- mostly in the form of lectures or lightly tugged ears. They do not remove privileges, given that you take and do so little- would they take your food or bedding, and make you fear a return to your squalid lifestyle?

Instead they just… talk. Talk about how you’ve disappointed them, how they’re sad, upset. How you’ve “let them down”, but there’s still second chances because they know you can “do better”.

You’re teasing MK, something harmless but just sharp enough to make him pout and snap back at you. The kings are in the room, half-paying attention, but you can feel their presence like a storm cloud hanging over your head.

Wukong’s tail lashes once, twice, and then he’s there, tugging lightly at your ear.

“Hey,” he says, his voice mock-stern but with an edge that makes you freeze. “Be nice. That’s your brother.”

Before you can be scared, Wukong lets go, ruffling your hair like he’s brushing away the moment itself, and you’re left standing there, your heart racing for reasons you don’t fully understand.

And you finally can’t find a way to justify it- because they have finally dropped the act and stopped pretending that you aren’t family.

You can’t leave, because they’ve decided you belong here.

Not because they owe you. Not because of MK.

Because you’re theirs.

[nervoushottee]

it happened quiet | daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: [1.5k] What you and Daryl have is a soft quiet love.

Big Bald Ass Note: I’ve always had a love for Daryl Dixon. He was one of the first “older man” crushes I ever had many years ago. I’ve always loved his character and the way Norman Reedus has and still does portray this character is like no other. My favorite thing about him that I didn’t understand when I watched twd when I was young but grew into adulthood was his introverted character. And how his care for others was soft, quiet and subtle yet strong and profound all at the same time. As a person who has a quiet love, personally prefers it and deeply cherishes that quiet love. I had the sudden urge to write this. I’ve been getting back into my Daryl Dixon phase recently and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Thank you to @moonpascal for giving me that little push I needed to just go for it while the juices were flowing despite my other fic waiting outside waving her hands hoping to be seen, This is a long author’s note but this piece is truly something that means a lot to me. Which is funny because this is literally fanfiction but it's still writing and it's still art and it's mine. 

Enjoy.

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. It’s never been something that just came easy to him. He never received it as a child and didn’t think anything of it once he got older. 

There was one time when he was really really young. He was waiting for Merle after school, his older brother’s school building a few blocks away, and he watched his classmates greet their parents. He saw the parents with bright eyes and wide smiles. Mothers kissing their sons on the cheeks and fathers rubbing the top of their heads.

 A strong deep feeling within his belly grew from the sight of it and it got bigger and bigger as the two Dixon brothers walked back home.

And when they got to their home, Daryl saw their mom had been exactly in the same spot where the two boys had left her. Face down into the pillow, an arm hanging off the side of the bed where a spilled bottle of Jack Daniels had stained seeped into the carpet. 

Daryl cried for the first time ever. He cried for something he never had. 

He didn’t cry when he saw kids on the streets with new bikes and scooters. Didn’t cry when his mom and dad would yell until the sun went down. But he cried for this. That deep strong feeling that he couldn’t name poured out of him and he cried. Standing in the hallway as he watched his mother sleep. 

Merle, barely a teen and was bitching about spilled liquor, thought he was crying because mom looked too still. His older brother checked her pulse and felt the faint thump, thump, thump. “She’s jus sleepin’ Daryl.”, he explained to him. But Daryl didn’t stop crying. He hunched over, clutched his chest like his heart had been twisted and shoved down into his stomach and cried.

When Merle finally found out why he was crying, the older brother placed his hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders, stooped to his level and looked directly into his eyes. 

“Dixons don’t cry. Not over that or anything else. We just weren’t made for that stuff.” 

Daryl never cried or wanted it again. 

Until now. 

Until you. 

When the world’s gone to shit and the dead are walking. You gotta learn how to start trusting the living. Well,  to learn how to trust your group. They don’t just become a group of people you survive with. They become your family whether you like it or not. 

And in the beginning, Daryl sure as hell didn’t like it. 

He tried to force it away. To keep himself on the outside like he’s always done. Still did even when his brother went missing when they went back for him on that roof. But when time goes on and people die you build something, you find something and you learn something. He warmed into being more into the group. To being something of importance to Rick and the others. More than just Merle’s younger brother.  

He remembers Carol telling him that he was meant for a leadership role but he’s never thought that about himself. And never will.

And getting closer to them came with affection. Came with a bond. With awkward hugs from Carol when he had spent day and night looking for Sophia. Her cropped hair pressed against his bandaged ear. It came with pats on the back from Rick and looks that meant something a lot more brotherly than he’s ever felt with Merle. With you and your small smiles and lingering eyes. 

He had to learn to accept it. To learn that it was okay and wasn’t out of pity. That it was something he was actually allowed to have. It took him a long time to and he still only takes it in doses. Giving Carol a Cherokee Rose or the brief massage of her sore shoulder. Patting Rick’s shoulder,  hoping he knows how much his brotherly bond means to him through it. Nodding his head at you with the tip of his ears a bit red as he turns his head away from you. 

You’ve been a part of the group for as long as he could remember. And the two of you didn’t become something immediately. Daryl was an ass to you when all of this first started. He was an ass to everyone. But when he would small smiles from the courtyard, he would feel something that had never stirred inside of him before.

You were a touchy person. 

Always within arms reach of someone. Giving Lori a reassuring squeeze of the hand or hug when she seemed like she would just break down in tears from the stress of being pregnant in this world. Kissing the top of Beth's head when she came to you with her anxieties over the group's safety. Or playfully slapping T-Dog’s shoulder when he used to make you laugh.

But when it came to Daryl you never touched him. And he felt off about it. Thankful but off.

 When the two of you were starting to become something more, he had subtly brought it up when the two of you were on watch. It felt like pulling teeth when he asked you. And he would rather have done that with a rusted wrench than do this.

“I know you Daryl.” you said to him with a shrug. 

That was the only thing that you said to him when he had asked but it was all that he needed. As your eyes never left his, he watched you smile softly. The moon giving your skin a light glow. You knew that he doesn’t respond well to physical affection. To hugs or kisses on the cheek (except from Carol who does it despite the awkwardness she laughs through). You knew it was something he just wasn’t used to. Or even maybe never had.  It was only four words but it meant more to Darly than he could even say in a lifetime. 

And if you ever told anyone that he was the one that made the first move and kissed you at the top of the prison tower. He will lie until he’s blue in the face and say he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. 

After that you became more affectionate with each other. More touchy than before. Not touchy like Glenn and Maggie. Kissing each other goodbye when the other would go on a run or a quick kiss good morning. Or hugging after a run gone bad and they almost lost the other. Public display of affection to his partner, to you, is something Daryl could never really get on with. 

But what the two of you had was a quiet love. A word Daryl still had a hard time saying and rarely ever said but knew deep in his heart that he felt it whenever he looked at you. 

It was a quiet love filled with small glances and innocent touches. His hand against the small of your back or a quick tap on your arm or thigh. Your small smile to greet him and the nods that greets you.  Holding his hand underneath the table. Feeling his calloused thumb rub against your hand once or twice. Checking on eachother during the other’s watch shift. Him adding some of his food on your plate as he walks past you. You giving him a snack of whatever random thing you have on hand in the evening. Placing your head on his shoulder very briefly when there's not many people around. A mutual meaning of a hug when it's late at night and you won’t see him for a while.   

It was a silent bond the others knew about by name(ish) and feeling  but not as much by action. Those actions were yours and yours alone. And you both preferred it that way. 

Tender kisses and tight hugs. Soft caresses on the cheek and tracing fingers across bare chests. Whispered stories of childhood that turn into bedtime stories throughout the night. Expressing moments of doubt, fear or anger. Tears that would fall on your face and the feeling of his lips pressed against the top of your head.  

Even in moments when you were sleeping next to him. Your head on top of his chest or his arm curled around your stomach. Daryl would feel your wrist, his thumb against your pulse to make sure it's still beating. Or hold as still as he can like he’s tracking a buck in the forest to feel the up and down of your body to ensure you’re breathing. 

You became a big part of his life. This group (his family)  became a big part of his life. Who knew that it would only take the end of the world for him to feel something more than just anger for the first time in his entire life.  

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. But he learned how to be. For the good of the group, for himself and for you. 

dividers by @saradika

[wolvietxt]

𝓢AFE IN 𝓨OUR 𝓐RMS !

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : angst, hurt / comfort, heavy insecurities, reader lowk takes a beating, kidnapping, fluff, reader’s insecurities stem from natasha, happy ending wc : 4.9k a/n : writing this felt like a fever dream i’ve literally never written anything so quick

you tried not to think about it too much, really, you did. but it was hard not to notice the way natasha lit up a room just by walking into it, the effortless confidence she wore like a second skin. she was a force of nature, all sharp edges and deadly grace, the kind of woman who turned heads wherever she went. and then there was you - stumbling over your words, always feeling like you were playing catch-up, never quite able to shake the feeling that you were a few steps behind everyone else.

natasha was everything you weren’t, and on some days, it felt like she was everything bucky could ever want. they had a bond that went back decades, something forged in blood and shadows, a history that was impossible to compete with. you knew they were just friends, but that didn’t stop the creeping insecurities that gnawed at you whenever you saw them together. the way bucky would smile, a rare, genuine smile, when she cracked a joke, or the way he’d lean in close to whisper something that made her laugh.

you tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. after all, bucky was with you, not her. he chose you. but there were days when that choice felt like a fluke, like you were just a placeholder for someone better. it didn’t help that natasha seemed to be everywhere - on missions, during training sessions, even at casual gatherings at the compound. she was a constant reminder of everything you felt you could never be.

and bucky, sweet as he was, had no idea. he was the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, at least when it came to you. he was always looking out for you, making sure you were okay, doing his best to squash any fears you had before they could take root. 

“hey, stop that,” he’d say whenever he caught you staring at your reflection, tugging at your clothes like you could somehow reshape yourself into someone you weren’t. he’d come up behind you, wrapping those strong arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “you’re perfect. just as you are.”

and for a while, you’d believe him. it was hard not to when he was looking at you like you hung the moon, like you were the only thing in his world that made sense. he’d pepper kisses along your jawline, whispering sweet nothings until you were giggling and squirming in his hold, your insecurities momentarily forgotten.

but lately, those moments were fewer and farther between. bucky was busy, always being pulled in a dozen different directions with missions and briefings and god knows what else. you tried to be understanding, tried not to let it bother you when he’d come home late, exhausted and distracted, his mind still miles away even when he was sitting right next to you.

“sorry, doll,” he’d mutter, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the shower or falling face-first into bed. “it’s just been a long day.”

you knew it wasn’t his fault. he was doing his best, trying to balance everything. but it was hard not to feel like you were slipping through the cracks, like you were becoming an afterthought in his increasingly chaotic life. the doubts, once small and manageable, were growing louder, harder to ignore.

and then there were the whispers. 

it started small, just the occasional passing comment from the other agents - “nat and bucky make such a great team” or “you know, they’ve got years of history together.” you’d laugh it off, forcing a smile even as your heart twisted painfully in your chest. 

but it was hard to keep the smile in place when you overheard the hushed conversations in the hallways, the ones that stopped abruptly whenever you walked by. 

“i’m just saying, if i had to choose between her and natasha…” 

“oh, come on, it’s not even a contest.” 

“poor girl. she doesn’t stand a chance.”

you knew it was petty, letting other people’s opinions get to you. but it was like a thousand tiny cuts, each one adding to the weight already pressing down on you. you tried to talk to bucky about it once, stumbling over your words, trying to explain how you felt without sounding like you were accusing him of anything.

“it’s just… sometimes i feel like i’m not enough,” you’d confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “like you could do better. like you deserve someone who - ”

“hey, hey, stop that,” he cut you off, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. “you’re more than enough, baby. you’re everything to me, okay? don’t you dare think otherwise.”

and for a moment, it helped. the way he looked at you, eyes so full of love and sincerity, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth it. but the doubts never truly went away. they were always there, lurking in the back of your mind, waiting for the next opportunity to rear their ugly heads.

the breaking point came one night after a mission. it was supposed to be a simple extraction, but things went sideways, leaving bucky and natasha stuck behind enemy lines for days. no communication, no updates - just radio silence that left you pacing the floors of your apartment, sick with worry.

when they finally made it back, bruised and exhausted but alive, you’d barely been able to hold back your tears. you’d thrown yourself into bucky’s arms, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“i’m okay, doll. we’re okay,” he kept repeating, but you couldn’t shake the image of him and natasha, side by side, fighting their way out of whatever hellhole they’d been trapped in. they made the perfect team, a well-oiled machine, and where did that leave you? 

the insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury came rushing back, stronger than ever. and this time, they brought friends - ugly, vicious thoughts that whispered cruel things in the dead of night.

what if he only stayed with you out of pity? what if he wished you were more like her? what if, deep down, he regretted choosing you?

you did your best to hide it, plastering on a smile whenever bucky was around. but he could tell something was off, even if he didn’t quite know what. he tried to coax it out of you, tried to make you laugh, but it was like a wall had gone up between you, one you couldn’t seem to break down.

“are you okay?” he asked one night, his voice tinged with that soft concern that always made your heart ache. “you’ve been… distant lately.”

“i’m fine, buck.” you lied, avoiding his gaze. “just tired.”

“you’ve been tired a lot lately,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

“yeah, i know,” you muttered, forcing a smile. “i’m good, buck. promise.”

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. you curled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, but it did little to soothe the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to tell him, to pour out all the fears that were eating you alive. but what good would it do? it would only make you seem clingy, needy, and the last thing you wanted was to drive him away.

so you kept it all locked up, burying the insecurities deeper until they were practically choking you. and that’s when the nightmares started - vivid, gut-wrenching dreams of bucky walking away, of him choosing natasha over you, leaving you in the dust without a second glance.

you’d wake up gasping, tears streaming down your face, but you never told him. you couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking you were weak, that you were doubting him. 

but the cracks were starting to show, no matter how hard you tried to hide them. bucky could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, but he didn’t know how to fix it. he just held you tighter, kissed you longer, hoping it would be enough to chase away whatever demons were haunting you.

but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

 it happened on a friday, the kind of day that started off unremarkable and ended with everything falling apart. you’d been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe ordering takeout and curling up with a good book while waiting for bucky to come back from his latest mission. he’d promised it was a quick one, nothing too dangerous, just an intel-gathering job that would have him back before midnight.

you should have known better. things rarely went according to plan when it came to the avengers’ line of work. but you’d let yourself relax, lulled into a false sense of security by the thought of a quiet night in. you were in the middle of deciding between thai or pizza when it all went wrong.

the first sign was the knock at your door. you weren’t expecting anyone, but you figured it might be one of the neighbors, maybe asking to borrow something or returning the package that got delivered to their apartment by mistake. you didn’t think twice before unlocking it, didn’t even look through the peephole.

big mistake.

the door burst open, slamming into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. you stumbled back, dazed, and that’s when you saw them - three men, all dressed in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks. panic flared in your chest, but before you could even think to scream, one of them was on you, clamping a hand over your mouth while the other pinned your arms to your sides.

you fought, kicking and writhing, but it was no use. they were bigger, stronger, and they had the element of surprise on their side. something cold and metal pressed against your neck - a needle. you barely registered the sting before everything went dark.

when you came to, your head was pounding, your mouth dry as sandpaper. it took a moment for the world to come into focus, and when it did, you wished it hadn’t. you were in a dimly lit room, concrete walls and a single flickering bulb overhead. the air was damp and musty, the scent of mildew making your stomach churn.

your wrists were bound behind you, ropes digging into your skin, and your ankles were similarly tied to the legs of the chair you were sitting in. every part of you ached, from the bruises forming on your ribs to the throbbing in your temples. you blinked against the haze, trying to remember how you’d gotten here, but it all came flooding back in bits and pieces - the masked men, the needle, the suffocating darkness.

“look who’s finally awake.”

the voice was cold, mocking, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you turned your head to see one of your captors leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. he was tall, built like a tank, with a scar running down the side of his face. behind him, another man paced back and forth, the metallic clink of his boots echoing in the small space.

“who are you?” you managed to croak out, your throat raw.

the man ignored your question, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “you know, this could’ve been a lot easier,” he said, crouching down so he was eye level with you. “we didn’t want to take you. we were after someone else. but i guess you’ll have to do.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what are you talking about?”

“we wanted the winter soldier,” he replied, his grin widening. “but he’s gotten soft. too many friends, too many ties. makes it hard to get to him. so we figured, why not take someone he cares about? see if that old killer instinct kicks back in.”

fear lanced through you, sharp and sudden. they were using you as bait. your mind raced, a thousand horrible scenarios flashing before your eyes. bucky would come for you, of course he would. but the thought of him turning back into the winter soldier, of all that progress undone because of you - it was almost too much to bear.

“he won’t come,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “you’re wasting your time.”

but the man just laughed, like you’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “oh, sweetheart, i think we both know that’s not true. but just in case… let’s give him a little motivation.”

without warning, he swung his fist into your side, hard enough to knock the wind out of you. pain exploded in your ribs, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. but the hits kept coming, each one worse than the last, until you were gasping for breath, stars dancing in your vision.

“you really think he cares?” the other man sneered, circling you like a predator. “if he did, he’d be here by now. maybe we should’ve taken the black widow instead. bet he’d come running for her.”

the words cut deep, reopening the wounds you’d tried so hard to close. you knew it was a lie, just another tactic to break you, but it still stung. the doubts you’d buried resurfaced, louder and crueller than ever. what if they were right? what if bucky didn’t care as much as you thought? what if he was already too late?

you closed your eyes, trying to block out their taunts, but the darkness was worse. it was like being trapped in your own mind, the insecurities feeding off the pain, growing stronger with every second that ticked by.

“face it,” the man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and rancid. “you’re just a means to an end. he’s not coming for you. no one is.”

meanwhile, miles away, bucky was losing his mind. he’d known something was wrong the moment he’d come back to the apartment and found the door ajar, the lock busted. his heart had dropped into his stomach, a cold dread settling over him as he stepped inside, calling your name.

but there was no answer, just the eerie silence of an empty home. the place was in disarray - furniture overturned, shards of glass scattered across the floor, the faint scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. and then he saw it: your phone, discarded on the ground, the screen cracked.

“no, no, no,” he muttered, a sense of panic clawing at his throat. he’d grabbed the device, trying to call you, but it went straight to voicemail. every second that passed felt like an eternity, the fear tightening around his chest like a vise.

he didn’t waste any time. within minutes, he was on the phone with sam, his voice raw and desperate as he explained what had happened. “she’s gone, sam. they took her.”

“we’ll find her, buck,” sam had promised, his tone steady even as tension crept in. “we’ll get her back.”

but bucky was already on the move, the old instincts kicking in as he pulled every string, called in every favour he had. he tore through the city like a man possessed, following every lead, every whisper, but it was like chasing shadows. 

“dammit!” he snarled, slamming his fist into the dashboard of his car, the metal denting under the force. he could feel himself slipping, the old rage bubbling up, threatening to consume him. but he couldn’t afford to lose control. not now. not when you were counting on him.

he had to find you. he had to get to you before it was too late.

you didn’t know how long you’d been there, time blurring into a painful haze of darkness and agony. every inch of you hurt, from the bruises blooming across your skin to the raw, chafed skin around your wrists where you’d tried to pull free. the taunts never stopped, a constant barrage of words designed to break you down, to make you doubt everything.

“he’s forgotten about you,” one of the men said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “he’s probably with the redhead right now. why would he bother with damaged goods like you?”

you were so tired, so damn tired. every bone in your body ached, and it was getting harder to stay awake, to keep fighting. but you couldn’t give up, not yet. because somewhere, deep down, you still believed in him. you still believed he’d come.

and then, just when you were starting to think you’d never see him again, you heard it - a distant crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. hope, fragile and fleeting, sparked in your chest. you struggled to lift your head, blinking against the pain.

“bucky…?”

the world around you was a blur of pain and exhaustion, your captors’ cruel words echoing in your mind like a broken record. the room was spinning, the edges of your vision growing dark as your strength waned. you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on, the fight draining out of you with each passing second. 

but then - there was a sound. faint at first, barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears, but it grew louder, more distinct. the unmistakable roar of gunfire, the heavy thud of boots against concrete. something inside you stirred, a flicker of hope that you hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime. 

“bucky…” you whispered, the name slipping from your cracked lips like a prayer. 

the door to the room you were trapped in exploded inward with a deafening crash, sending shards of wood flying. you flinched, your heart lurching in your chest, but then you saw him - bucky barnes, standing there like an angel, his face a mask of fury. 

his blue eyes were wild, searching, locking onto yours the moment he saw you slumped in the chair. “baby,” he breathed, his voice breaking on the single word. he was at your side in an instant, his metal arm slicing through the ropes that bound you, freeing you from your restraints. 

you tried to speak, tried to reach out to him, but your body was too weak, too battered. your vision blurred, and you swayed, only for bucky to catch you, pulling you into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence still crackling in the air around him. 

“i’m here, i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. he cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over the bruise blooming on your cheek, his touch achingly tender. “look at me, sweetheart. open those pretty eyes for me, okay?” 

you tried, but everything hurt. every inch of you was screaming in pain, your body barely holding itself together after the relentless beating you’d endured. 

“they - they said…” you choked out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “they said you wouldn’t come… that you’d never come for me like you would for natasha.” 

the words shattered something in bucky, his jaw clenching, his eyes darkening with a pain that matched your own. “don’t you ever think that,” he said fiercely, his voice a low growl. “you are everything to me. no one - no one - comes close to what you mean to me.” 

you wanted to believe him, but the doubts still lingered, the echoes of your captors’ taunts ringing in your ears. they’d broken something inside you, something that bucky was desperately trying to piece back together with every gentle touch, every whispered word. 

he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i was tearing this city apart looking for you. i’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby.” 

but there was no more time for words, not when the sound of approaching footsteps signalled the arrival of more enemies. bucky’s eyes hardened, the winter soldier slipping into place as he gently laid you down on the floor, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

“stay here, okay? just for a minute,” he said, his voice steady now, controlled. “i’m gonna take care of this.” 

you nodded weakly, your body trembling as you watched him stand, turning to face the oncoming threat. he was a force of nature, moving with a deadly grace that took your breath away, every movement precise and lethal. 

you tried to stay awake, tried to focus on the sight of him, but your body was shutting down, the pain too much to bear. you could hear the sounds of battle, the screams and gunfire, but it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. 

when you came to again, it was quiet. the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath. you blinked, your vision clearing slowly, and the first thing you saw was bucky kneeling beside you, his face streaked with blood and sweat. 

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. “you’re safe now.” 

you tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit you, and bucky was there, his arms steady around you, holding you close. “easy, easy,” he said, his hand gently brushing through your hair. “i’ve got you.” 

you leaned into him, your body shaking, and for a moment, all you could do was breathe him in, the familiar scent of leather and metal grounding you in a way nothing else could. 

“you came for me,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. 

“of course i did,” he said, his voice fierce and raw. “i’ll always come for you.” 

but even as he held you, you couldn’t shake the lingering doubts, the fears that had taken root deep inside you. “why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. “why would you… when you could have natasha? she’s… she’s perfect, bucky. she’s everything i’m not.” 

his grip tightened on you, his hands trembling slightly. “don’t say that,” he said, his voice low and desperate. “you’re not a consolation prize. you’re not second to anyone. nat’s a good friend, but she’s not you. no one could ever be you.” 

the tears came then, hot and fast, and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that had been building inside you for what felt like forever. bucky held you through it, his arms strong and steady, his whispers a lifeline in the darkness. 

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. “i’m so sorry, bucky.” 

he shook his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheek, like he couldn’t stop himself. “no, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m the one who’s sorry. i should have done more to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved.” 

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, to really see him, and what you saw there took your breath away. it was love, pure and unfiltered, shining in his blue eyes, his gaze locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered. 

“you… you really mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“damn right, i do,” he said, his lips curving into a small, soft smile. “you’re everything to me. nothing and no one could ever change that.” 

he kissed you then, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every promise, into that kiss. and for the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts started to fade, the fears quieting into nothingness. 

bucky didn’t leave your side after that, not even for a moment. he carried you out of that hellhole, his arms strong and sure around you, and when you were finally safe, finally back in the comfort of your shared apartment, he stayed with you, tending to your wounds with a tenderness that made your heart ache. 

“i’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he said, his voice low and fierce as he wrapped a bandage around your wrist. “not ever.” 

“i think i’d be okay with that,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

he looked up at you then, his eyes softening, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of warmth, of hope. “i love you,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession, like something he’d been holding back for far too long. 

your breath hitched, tears welling in your eyes. “i love you too, bucky,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. “i always have.” 

he kissed you again, soft and sweet, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was okay. because you had him, and he had you, and that was all that mattered. 

🌀 two weeks later… 

the rain outside was a gentle lull, a soft patter against the windows that filled the quiet of your shared bedroom. the storm had come out of nowhere, blanketing the city in a soft gray, but inside, wrapped up in bucky's arms, everything was warm and bright. 

you were lying on his chest, your fingers tracing absent patterns over the smooth lines of his metal arm, marvelling at the way it glinted even in the dim light. his other arm was draped over your waist, holding you close, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go even for a second. 

“you know,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest, “i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this.” 

“tired of what?” you asked, your voice soft, a little teasing. 

“this,” he said, squeezing you just a bit tighter. “having you here. being able to hold you like this.” 

a smile tugged at your lips, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the blankets cocooning you both. it was moments like this, the simple, quiet ones, that made all the darkness, all the doubts, feel like a distant memory. 

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of it either,” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. 

his eyes were that perfect shade of blue, soft and warm as they watched you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “good,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” 

you laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his smile widen, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. 

there had been a time, not so long ago, when you would have doubted this, doubted him. when you would have let the fears, the insecurities, creep in and convince you that this, that he, was too good to be true. but now, lying here in his arms, it all felt so silly, so far away. 

“you know,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing those gentle patterns on his arm, “i used to wonder… why you’d want me. i used to think i wasn’t enough.” 

his brow furrowed, the faintest hint of sadness clouding his eyes. “don’t ever think that,” he said, his voice low and serious. “you’re more than enough for me, doll. you’re everything.” 

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “i believe you,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him, soft and slow. 

he sighed into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you there like he never wanted to let go. when you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with that same look he always did, like you were the most precious thing in his world. 

“i’m glad you do,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “because i’m gonna spend every day proving it to you.” 

“you already have,” you said, resting your forehead against his. “you always do.” 

he hummed, a soft, content sound, and then he was rolling over, pulling you with him so that you were both lying on your sides, face to face. 

“good,” he said, his voice a low whisper in the quiet room. “because i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” 

you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “sounds like a dream come true,” you teased, your smile widening when he leaned in to steal another kiss. 

“damn right, it is,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that playful light you loved so much. 

and as he held you there, the storm raging outside but nothing but warmth and love between you, you knew that he meant it. all those old fears, those insecurities - they were nothing compared to the love he showed you, every single day, in every single way. 

because this was real, he was real, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

🌀 bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

the scariest fucking thing just happened to me.

I was getting ready for bed when I noticed a SPIDER about the size of a penny crawling across my mattress akshakshs safe to say I freaked the fuck out and grabbed the nearest tea cup to trap it just before it reached my pillow.

I then carefully slid some card under the cup and carried it to the bathroom, put it down in the bathtub, and then very hesitantly lifted the cup to ensure I had definitely caught it.

but the spider was not under the fucking cup.

I panicked and rushed back to my bedroom and began grabbing everything on my bed and vigorously shaking it whilst trying not to cry to get the spider away 😭 I literally stripped my bed and at this point I was profusely sweating because of how scared I was BUT THE LITTLE FUCKER WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN.

anyways... I had a little bit of a totally-understandable-and-not at-all-dramatic breakdown before getting over myself and carefully putting everything back on my bed... and now I'm laying in my bed aware of everything touching my body and I'm quite afraid to move. :)

..........but listen I'm not scared of spiders, I promise-

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[squishosaur]

hey man. i'm just saying. why would we put inexperienced teenagers with over-inflated egos and obvious emotional issues into combat classes and make them claw their way to the top of their dorms and expect things to just run smoothly. who actually thought this

[fadeintoyou1993]

having to explain to people things like. if i have to go out to do something and run errands i need to have it all mapped out and planned w like. at least a week in advance. and if i go out that day i cannot do anything else because That will be it. if i have multiple commitments that cannot be put on the same day i need one full day in between those commitments so i can rest and be recharged for that next thing otherwise i might have a breakdown in the middle of the street (again) and then That will render me unable to function for like a whole three days. and then people look at me like i choose to live like this?

[nomairuins]

i literally likw felt sick hust now bc i thought abt gay people and ive just realized as i was about to hit post that this sounds homophobic. it was pure envy unfortunately

[anotherpapercut]

I'm gonna say something controversial and I don't care what y'all think of me after because a) I'm right and b) it's called a difference of opinion

twenty one pilots first 2 albums (self titled and vessel) were genuinely beautiful works of art and it was honestly really fucking weird that everyone decided they were Problematique because they "made music to profit off mentally ill people" as if they couldn't just be mentally ill people making art for themselves and the people like them. also there's no way you can listen to oh miss believer and not be moved