#idk how much i love the gendered words but just the idea had me all like

[longagoitwastuesday]

The way Haemon acts has reminded me a lot of Romeo and Juliet

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[w2sology]

Hi can u do harry with shy and pregnant reader who ìs like a little sister to rest of the sidemen

nerf or nothing, harry lewis.

summary: the boys come over to spend a bit of time with you and harry, and they come bearing gifts!

warnings: pregancy (idk if that's even a warning?)

notes: as a shy person myself, some of this writing is heavily self inserted 🥲

"what if they don't end up liking football though?"

"then we can try darts. or hey, even rugby."

"harry."

it was past noon and you and harry were discussing things that parents to be often discussed, only harry was focused on the later years of your child's life.

the two of you sat in bed, your back leaning against his chest as you sat in between his legs, loads of catalogues scattered around you both.

"oh, about the pram that you were talking about before," harry mentioned.

"yeah?"

"ethan said faith had loads of websites, she could send them to you if you wanted?"

"oh, god, yes." you sighed contentedly, no longer feeling the stress of having to look for a perfect pram. "or better yet, tell her that she can come over, i haven't seen her or olive in a minute."

harry told you that he'd let ethan know, kissing your forehead before leaving to the kitchen to fix you both a snack.

whilst he was in the middle of pouring you a glass of cranberry juice ─── "it's good for the body harry," you told him, to which he replied with "no, rank is what it is," ─── the doorbell rang.

confused as to who you were both expecting or if it was yet another baby purchase coming in, harry sat the glass on the counter and made his way to the door.

before he could even open it, he knew who it was judging by the loud voices and the bickering of what sounded like jj and simon.

"just ring it once, mate, they can definitely hear." simon groaned, trying to obstruct jj, who clearly didn't listen and kept pressing the doorbell, which earned your attention from upstairs.

harry stood a little away from the door, contemplating what would happen if he just turned around and pretended not to hear the commotion happening outside.

"we can see you, harry," ethan called from through the letterbox. so much for that plan.

harry sighed before opening the door, a smile plastered on his face as his friends all cheered, seeing them bound with gifts and food and other things.

the soft sound of your footsteps made them all turn their head to where you were on the stairs, your baby bump proudly peeking through harry's oversized shirt that you had on.

"oh," you shyly smiled. "hi guys." you didn't think they'd all be here, but there they were.

one by one they came up to you, hugging you and saying their hi's or hello's, asking how you were. and you'd reply with the same, you were doing good, more tired than usual, all that stuff.

whilst harry and simon carried the gifts and food bags to the living room, toby linked your arm with his as he walked you there, making sure you were sat comfortably before harry and simon joined.

harry, being attracted to you like a magnet, squished in next to you, his body on the edge of the sofa as you leant on him.

there was never a moment of silence when the boys came over, and like the listener you were, you loved it.

toby began to explain what each of the gifts were for, considering you didn't know the gender of the baby yet, most of then were just toys. but then again, with them being the slightly immature bunch if men they were, the toys were things like legos and nerf guns or huge dollhouses for toddlers.

"what the hell is a baby going to do with a nerf gun?" harry asked.

"i thought you of all people would like this gift," jj gasped, hand on his chest as he feigned hurt at harry's words.

"no, i'm just saying boys..." and there started the debate over suitable toys for children.

you turned to vik with a look that said 'help me' yet all he did was shrug.

"harry, a couple of months ago you would've been on board with this idea. y/n, what did you do to him?" ethan pointed a finger at you.

"what— me? he's right, a nerf gun's for toddlers, not babies!" you defended yourself.

harry's chest moved up and down as he laughed behind you, even more so at the way you groaned and his your face in your hands.

"i'm not ready for harry's mature era," simon commented.

"mature and harry don't belong in the same sentence," vik added.

"oh my days," harry mumbled as they launched into a new topic, harry's maturity level.

as they all introduced their own point, you just smiled and laughed along as you leant on your boyfriend, feeling even more excited for your baby to be welcomed into the family.

[pomefioredove]

If the flirtatious lines event is still happening, I do have a little request, and this is absolutely not forced!

Could you do “You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” With Leona x reader? Here’s a little twist, though; The reader is the one saying that to Leona! I absolutely adore the idea of Leona being super shy when in love, seeing normally tough characters be out-of-character when they have a crush is ADORABLE to me! Plus, I don’t see enough of reader being the teasing one in Leona x reader fics.

Thank you for listening, have a lovely day/night!

ooh this makes SO much sense though, I see your vision!!

summary: "you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?" type of post: short fic characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, probably really ooc idk

It's not the first time you've run into him, and it won't be the last.

It was annoying at first; your clumsiness, and that perpetual look of confusion and awe in your eyes...

You didn't belong here.

That was the first thing Leona thought about you.

Your good nature, the way you stupidly stumbled into trouble time and time again, even that look on your face; you'd make an easy meal for any predator.

And, as luck would have it, that would be him.

Though he certainly doesn't feel like the top of the food chain now.

"Talk to them," Ruggie pesters, hovering around his boss like a fly. Leona is tempted to swat him away.

"No,"

He puts a hand on his hip. "I don't see what the big deal is. You deal with being a prince your whole life, but you get choked up at the Prefect?"

Annoying. Leona is tempted to make a rude gesture, but his social etiquette gets the best of him.

"I am not choked up, but you're going to be unless you get lost," he says in a tone far too quiet.

He's lucky that Leona is in a merciful mood today.

"Suit yourself," Ruggie shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets and heading towards the exit.

Good. Leona didn't come here to talk about the Prefect, anyway.

Of all the stupid things...

He lies back in his original position, trying to drown out the sound of your voice and get some sleep. You're here with a group, doing some potionology thing, he figures. Great.

One of your friends makes you laugh, and he feels a strange sense of jealousy.

"I'll get the poppy," you sound rather pleased with yourself.

Though, as hard as he tries, he can't seem to dislike you.

A rustle, and then another beam of sunlight hits the secluded little spot, illuminating the both of you.

"Oh!" you say, eyes wide. "Sorry, Leona. Didn't mean to disturb you."

Always so polite. He wonders if that's just for show, or if you're being genuine.

"Mhm," he hums. He can't find it within himself to tell you off. It's like he's forgotten how to speak.

And he can't look at you.

"It's not over here..." you say under your breath. You're not even doing anything and he finds you endearing. "Well... sorry again."

Ruggie's words are still fresh in his mind- the pest- and he sighs.

"Wait," Leona says, standing. "You're looking for poppy? I know where it is."

You seem to hesitate. Not a good sign. "...I don't want to trouble you..."

"It would be more rude to turn down such a generous offer," he rebuffs. That's more like it.

And, so, you follow him. It feels nice, stringing you along for once.

Leona says nothing. With anyone else, he would've made at least one comment by now- no, with anyone else, he wouldn't have offered his help in the first place.

He brings you to another part of the botanical gardens, and shows you a row of potted poppies. Crewel had the second years move them yesterday.

"Ah, here they are. Thank you!" you smile. It's almost... cute. Ugh.

He says nothing.

You collect your material, and begin the walk back with him. He can feel your eyes on him, and he can tell there's something you want to ask.

"...You don't say much,"

Great. Leona huffs. Why does he feel so hot, all of a sudden? "I just have nothing to say,"

Even he sounds unsure of what he's claiming. You raise an eyebrow, a small smile gracing your lips.

"You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?"

And you're driving me mad, he thinks, but all he can do is grunt in response.

He feels nervous. Always so nervous around you.

Leona would never admit what those words did to him, but he didn't need to. He could feel the embarrassment on his face.

You stop at the mouth of the gardens. Your friends are waiting outside.

"Thanks again," you smile. It's genuine. He can't keep eye contact with you.

"...Sure,"

"Just, ah..." you say, looking between him and your puny first year friends as they call you over. "Let me know what I can do to repay the favor, okay?"

So naive. You're practically serving yourself on a silver platter. Like he originally thought, an easy meal for any predator.

...But, for once, that predator isn't him.

And he's actually going to have to work for this.

[milkywaygalaxygurl]

The Go-Ahead - Art Donaldson

request: hiii could you do any plot/story/scenario where tashi knows art is interested/in love/infatuated or just attracted to reader so she gives him the green light as long as it’ll have him play tennis better … sorry if this doesn’t make sense or is weirdly specific i’m just a little obsessed with this scenario

i took some liberties with the personality of Y/N since it wasn’t specified, i made her shy and a little awkward because i could definitely see art falling for an adorably shy woman after being with tashi’s confident self for so long. i wrote this as the reader being female because gender wasn’t specified, but let me know if you’d like me to change it!! i personally really hate the way i wrote this and it’s definitely not my best, i honestly might rewrite it eventually because there’s kind of a lack of romance but i really hope y’all like it:’)

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female!Reader

Warnings: thoughts of infidelity, probably swearing, suggestive words, idk if i missed anything else but yeah

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: Y/N caught Art’s eye the second she walked into the Stanford reunion Tashi had practically forced Art to attend. He couldn’t believe how breathtakingly beautiful she was or the fact that he was thinking this way about someone other than Tashi. Unbeknownst to Art, Tashi notices and forms a plan.

Art loved Tashi wholeheartedly, he always had and always would. Some part of him knew that Tashi would never love him as much as he did her, but he felt content knowing she chose him to spend her life with. Even if they fought about tennis and rarely spoke about anything else, Art never thought anybody could take his eyes off Tashi.

That is, until you walked into the venue the Stanford reunion was being held in. It’s almost as if his eyes were drawn to your presence entering the room, eyes immediately snapping towards you. His breath catches in his throat for a second, his eyes widening slightly. He lets out an awkward cough, nodding when Tashi asks if he’s okay.

He tries not to make it obvious when he glances back at you to catch another look, but Tashi notices and follows his line of sight. She has to force herself to hold back a scoff at first, but an idea quickly forms in her head. She studies you just like Art, noticing the way you give awkward smiles and how the flush in your cheeks never seems to lessen as you fidget awkwardly and stumble through small talk with former classmates.

You are beautiful, even Tashi can admit that, she doesn’t blame Art for allowing his eyes to wander (especially with the state of their relationship). As you move closer to the couple, Tashi suddenly realizes that she had a class with you all those years ago. You were kind to her after her knee injury, you weren’t the best of friends but you had taken notes for her while she missed class for physical therapy and always offered a helping hand when needed.

She glances at Art, noticing how his eyes are still trained on you. She chuckles slightly before making her mind up, looping her arm through Art’s and practically dragging him over to where you stand.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so good to see you!” She plasters on a smile, chuckling slightly when you look at her wide eyed for a second. You were still the same shy girl you were back then, it had honestly always annoyed Tashi how unconfident you were.

“Tashi! Wow, you look amazing.” You smile at her after getting over your initial awkwardness, turning to look at Art for a second before looking back at her. Tashi clocks it immediately, but doesn’t let either of you know.

“Oh hush, look at you! I’m sure you remember Art, right?” She lays a hand on her husband’s arm, turning to look at him. He’s looking at you like a lovesick puppy and, in all honesty, it doesn’t bother her one bit.

“Yeah, of course! You guys were like the prodigies of our class, I think you guys are part of the very few of us who actually went on to make a name for themselves.” You chuckle, glancing at Art again.

It takes Art a minute to even speak, but his mouth finally starts to move as he holds a hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. Y/N, was it?”

You shake his hand softly, nodding your head. “I helped Tashi a little after her knee injury, I’m honestly surprised she even remembered me!” Chuckling awkwardly, you take your hand back and hope he didn’t notice how sweaty it was.

Tashi pretends to notice something across the room, apologizing profusely and saying she’ll be right back. When Art tries to follow her, she shoos him away and tells him to stay talking with you. He tries not to seem too excited at the idea, but the way he turns around quickly gives him away.

Art notices the way you fidget with the rings on your fingers and the way your eyes dart around awkwardly as if you’re looking for the nearest escape. He honestly thinks it’s adorable, but tries his best to help you feel less awkward by starting a new conversation.

“What was your major?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. The question seems to ease the tension, your eyes lighting up as you smile.

“Originally it was Journalism but after I realized that I’d have to interview people, I very quickly switched to just having English as my major. I wrote a few books that didn’t get as much attention as I hoped they would, so I’m an editor for a magazine now.”

“It’s actually kind of crazy, the last thing I edited was a column about you.” You smile at him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he smiles in return.

“All good things, I hope?” He asks, making you nod your head quickly as you jump to reassure him.

Tashi never returned to the conversation despite swearing she would and you talked with Art for what felt like hours. Before you knew it, you were laughing like old friends and the conversation was flowing nicely. You catch yourself wondering what it would be like if you had met him all those years ago, if maybe he’d have had a crush on you before he dated Tashi.

You knew it was wrong to think that way about a married man, but you rationalized it out by saying they were just thoughts. Truly, that’s all they were. You would never try meddling in a relationship that seemed as strong as theirs. You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you glanced down at your phone, your mouth falling open in shock.

“We’ve been talking for so long!” Turning your phone around to show Art the time, his own mouth falls open too before splitting into a grin.

“I really hate to say this, but I really have to go. I have to go into work early tomorrow and I really need to get a good night’s sleep beforehand.” You look up at him with puppy dog eyes and Art swears he felt his heart skip a beat.

“That’s alright, I really enjoyed talking to you. Let’s go find Tashi and we’ll walk you out, we should get going too.” He looks around for a second and almost immediately spots Tashi, pointing her out to you so you two can make your way over.

You say an awkward goodbye once you’re at your car and before you step in, Tashi is calling out to you for your number. “We should keep in touch! We can all go out for drinks sometime.”

You give it to her, honestly a little startled she wanted to keep in contact. You exchange another goodbye before driving off, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you see Art again.

It took Tashi all of two seconds to turn to Art with a raised eyebrow. “You seemed to really like her.” Her voice is deadpan, her arms crossed.

“Wh- What do you mean?” He looks at her wide eyed, like a child who’s been caught. She chuckles, shaking her head.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in and the whole time you guys were talking, I’m not stupid.” Art gaps at her, his mouth opening and shutting a few times.

“Art, I don’t give a fuck. Why do you think I asked for her number?” He’s still gaping at her, trying to find the right words.

“You’ve been playing like shit, you can’t deny it. She made you the most excited I’ve seen you in a while. If she’s what it takes for you to play good again, I don’t care if you fuck her. Hell, you could enter a full blown relationship with her and I wouldn’t care if it means you play better.”

Art tries to defend himself, tries to say he would never do that to Tashi, but part of him is excited at the prospect of her giving him the go-ahead. After lots of convincing and back and forth between them, Art decides to just go for it. You guys all hung out after that night a few times, but eventually Tashi was always “busy” and it turned into just you and Art going out for drinks or watching movies. It wasn’t until after a few months of these hang outs when Art decided to bring up the idea to you.

“I know this is a really strange offer, but I really just need you to hear me out before you say anything.” His words make you raise an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. You notice how nervous he seems, his thumb rubbing the ring on his finger.

“I find you attractive, I honestly really like you. I know I’m married to Tashi, but her and I have honestly been going downhill for months. All we ever talk about is tennis, she barely even wants to touch me anymore. I- I know it’s strange, but she gave me permission to pursue something with you. If you’re interested, that is.”

You stare at him for a second, your face void of any emotion. “Did she really give you the okay or is this just some manipulation tactic? Because you know how I feel about cheating.”

He nods his head quickly, “If you want, you can talk to her about it. We’ve been discussing this since the night I met you, that’s why these hang outs eventually turned into just you and I.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want this, but you didn’t want to enter into something that would inevitably cause pain for all parties involved.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to fuck you and then let you go home to your family? I can’t do that to myself, Art.” In the months that you’d been hanging out with Art, your shyness slowly disappeared and he got to see the more confident side of you. He couldn’t deny that it made him like you all the more.

“I-I mean, if you really wanted to, we don’t have to just do that. We could be in a relationship, I could stay with you some nights and go home for Lilly other nights. I don’t want you to think I just want to use you, because I don’t want to. You’re amazing, Y/N. These past few months have been so nice, I love just getting to sit with you and not having to talk about tennis or training. You make me feel normal, like I’m not just a puppet.”

You rub your forehead again, closing your eyes to think. “We can do this, but all three of us need to sit down and discuss boundaries. We need to do this right.”

Art’s face breaks out into a bright grin, his hands reaching for your own. “That’s fine with me, thank you for giving this a chance.”

The next day, you found yourself having the awkward sit down with him and Tashi to discuss boundaries. It took nearly the whole day, but eventually things were settled. With the weight of that off your chest, you felt comfortable starting something with Art.

Months went by and your love for Art only grew deeper. He was so kind and attentive, always making sure you were still okay with the arrangement and that you felt cared for. You feared the dynamic would be weird, but you often saw Tashi and even met Lilly a few times. Things were going amazing and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

It was nearly six months into your relationship the first time Art told you he loved you. You were lying in bed, the TV casting a glow in the otherwise dark room. Art was cuddled into your side, his head resting on her chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you. As he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and felt your chest move with every breath you took, he realized just how glad he was to have met you that night. He had gotten better at playing, he felt more loved than he had honestly ever felt with Tashi, and he was truly and utterly content with his life.

“Y/N?” He whispers your name, propping his head up on your chest to look at you. You look down at him, running your fingers through his hair as you smile softly at him. You hum softly to let him know you’re listening, it was something you did often that made Art’s heart skip several beats.

“I love you, truly. I’m so glad I met you and I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.” His words make you smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean down to give him a million kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.” Art grins at you, sitting up so he can kiss your face. You giggle at the feeling, grabbing his face to pull him in for a real kiss. You were truly so grateful for Art and your relationship, and you were grateful for Tashi allowing it. This was the happiest you’d been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[eseongsubs]

warnings; creampie, hybrid!sunoo, degradation, master kink, reader has a vag but no gender is specified, slight yandere sunoo, desperate sunoo, possessive sunoo

ughhh when I tell you my lust for hybrid boys has skyrocketed lately. Idk wtf is going on with me but I’m going crazy. I want him a little insane, possessive, horny…..a boys’ got needs.

Imagine kitty Sunoo…..Y’all I don’t think I can handle it. It’s been so long since you’ve had a good fuck. Your ex-boyfriend just moved out, all your most recent fucks since then just haven’t been it. They haven’t made you cum. Tonight your hand creeps into your shorts for the nth time to make yourself feel better. Your fingers swirling your clit to find relief from the built up lust you’ve been feeling lately.

It’s hard to get off without some sort of media, but you’re too tired to pick up your phone and find something good. Your mind flits through a million scenarios as you try to push yourself to that point but it’s not working. It’s slowly starting to piss you off.

“Ugh” the hiss you let out is low and guttural. Any moment now your fingers will get tired.

“..Yn?” The sound of Sunoo’s low tired voice startles you, hands jumping from your pants. The cat hybrid should be asleep right now. The thought that he could possibly have smelled or heard you attempting to do the deed embarrasses you and makes your face tingle with subtle shame.

“Yes love?”

“Can I…can I sleep with you tonight?” His hesitant voice makes you bite your lip. The truth is, this was on the list of the reasons your boyfriend wanted to break up with you. Sunoo has his own bedroom but he hardly likes to sleep in it. Your ex did not like the idea of you sharing your bed with another man when he wasn’t there.

Sunoo also did not like your ex very much either. Every time your boyfriend came over to the house there was an uncomfortable energy. Sunoo seemed to make more “mistakes” at the expense of your ex. Spilling his drinks on him, tearing up clothes he left over, throwing away his shoes or belongings because he “didn’t realize” they were your boyfriend’s belongings. Your ex told you to get rid of Sunoo if you wanted to get serious with him.

Clearly you know how that went.

“Sure hon, come in, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” You flipped your sheets off your legs and hopped off to wash your hands in the sink before meeting Sunoo back in your bedroom.

Sunoo was much bigger than his aura leads people to believe. His shoulders wide, tall with long legs. He’s large for a cat hybrid and it shows as he lays on your bed, his legs met the end of your mattress. A reason why his bed was bigger than yours.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, slipping under the covers. You rub your legs together from the comfortable warmth.

“Could you?” His eyes seemed to do something odd as he asked the question, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. A flash of your previous….activities made you swallow, laughing awkwardly.

“Guess not.”

Sunoo scooted closer, and you laid on your back to make room. He nosed his way into your neck and laid his hand over your tummy, squeezing your side to pull you directly up against him.

That was another thing about Sunoo. He was a lot stronger than one would think too.

“He hasn’t been around in a while” Sunoo mumbled. He sounded disinterested, but unbeknownst to you, his words were filled with much more vile emotions.

“Yeah, uhm, he won’t be back. Anytime soon.” Your awkward pauses made you squeeze onto the back of Sunoo’s shirt where your hand rested absentmindedly.

“Good” he said, his response shocked you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Sun”

“Why don’t you ever let me help you?” Sunoo’s voice seemed to dip in pitch. His fingers strayed from your side, sliding a little lower, fingers picking at your night shirt below your belly button. A spark lit inside your stomach that you tried to ignore, heart picking up speed in your chest from your embarrassing feelings.

“What?” The question slipped from your mouth more breathless than you’d wanted it to.

“Why do you always touch yourself alone when I’m right here to help?” He says. Your eyes snap open wider than before. Sunoo’s nose pressed deeper into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, lighting your belly on fire. You trapped his slowly slipping hand with your own.

“S-sunoo don’t say that to me. This is— that would be wrong. You’re my kitten” A deep, rumbly sigh blows over your neck at your words. Your words only turned him on more, making his movements against you more assertive.

“I could be your good kitten, master. I know I could. Could make you feel so good” it’s embarrassing the effect his words have on you. The way you seem to be growing wet at his statement even though you know you shouldn’t. He’s your kitten, your pet. You shouldn’t be letting him touch you, letting him have sex with you.

“Where did you even learn to speak like this, Sun? This is, completely inappropriate.” You’re trying to fight it, but you can’t deny the way your hand has loosened its grip on his, letting him sneak his way down into your sleep shorts, fingertips pressed against your underwear as he begins to rub against you. His hips roll into your side, the feeling of his hard dick making you bite the inside of your lip.

Sunoo ignores your question, mouth open as he pants against your skin, humping you carnally “you’re such a tease master. Oh, you smell so good you know that?”

“Do you know how many times I’ve listened to you touch yourself? How many times I’ve listened to him fuck you? It’s disgusting. I should be there. It should’ve been me” his voice grows more heated by the second, hand now rubbing against your cunt as he grinds his hard-on against your skin. Your body fills with horror at his confessions.

“I can smell the difference when you cum. When you feel good. Why did you let him fuck you if he wasn’t doin’ it for you, huh?” Sunoo’s fingers slipped into your pants, moving your pubic hair from his way as he spread your lips and tapped your clit. Your mouth parted in shock. “Oh god” Sunoo moaned as if he was the one being touched. You felt his teeth take his plump bottom lip into his mouth against the skin of your neck.

He was right. You did stay with your ex even though he wasn’t make you feel good. You fucked your boyfriend even though you didn’t really like it. You thought if you gave it time, maybe it would get better. Everything was so good in the beginning, you guess you didn’t want to lose it.

“Fuck master, please. You’re so wet I can’t take it. I need to be inside.” Sunoo pulled his hand out from your pants, slipping the blankets off you both so he could pull his night shorts down, climbing on top of you.

“N-no one can know, Sun” you mumbled as he pulled your shorts off your legs. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your hole, eyebrows creasing as he moaned.

“No one can know” he parrots, whimpering as he aligns his tip with you, bucking into your cunt with an excited jump of his hips. His whimpers and moans are instantaneous, and fuck it is so wrong how turned on you are right now. This is the best you’ve felt in years, the way Sunoo’s face contorts as he fucks into your hole, his pace is slow like he wants to enjoy every second, pulling and pushing gradually. So, so wrong. You just can’t help but squeeze him with your cunt, reaching up underneath his shirt to play with his nipples.

“Oh fuck, master” his hands land on each side of your head, cock moving faster as you begin to play with him.

“You like calling me that, Sunoo? Does it feel good when I let you fuck me?” You don’t know what came over you. Maybe it’s the excitement coursing through your veins. Maybe it’s the way he humps into you like if he stops he’ll lose his life.

“Fuck yes, oh master yes. Mine, all mine” his Whiney voice makes you clench down even harder. He’s so sexy it hurts.

“Yours, huh? Were you telling yourself that when you would listen to me fuck my boyfriend. That I’m yours?”

Sunoo’s speed picks up, “don’t say that” he huffs, eyes rolling back as his balls slap against your ass.

“Why not? It’s true, yeah?” You swallow, mouth falling open as you pant. Sunoo mewls when you drop your hands from his nipples, his lips wet and shiny, bangs flopping as he pounds into your hole.

“Fuck, fuck, oh master fuck I’m gonna cum. Gonna make you all mine, gonna cum inside” it’s lost on you how right your ex was. He shouldn’t have been comfortable with Sunoo in your bed, letting him sleep next to you when he touched himself to you every night. He was stealing your dirty t-shirts and jerking himself off with them before putting them in the washer. You’d praise him for being such a good boy, such a good kitty washing your clothes without being asked. When really, Sunoo was just covering his tracks.

“Please master. Yn please. Let me fill you up, oh god, oh god” his balls clenched as you spasmed around him, cumming on Sunoo’s cock from his desperate whimpers and harsh thrusts. His hips stuttered as he came inside, a long porn-ish mewl falling from his plush lips as you felt every twitch of his dick releasing inside.

What you were going to do about this now you didn’t know, but holy fuck did that feel good.

[scoutswritingcorner]

More Papa Headcanons!

PLATONIC Papa!Alastor & GN!Child!Reader

Angst Flavored~

First Part

TW: ANGST- Just a teeny tiny bit. For the soul. Oh and Susan is mentioned.

A/N: Enjoy~

I usually leave this part up to you guys, the readers of my ramblings, but what if you were born out of wedlock? You are technically Alastor’s bastard child. Especially during that time period? That was greatly frowned upon and you never knew who your mother was! But despite all of that, Alastor and his Mom adored you. (Don’t get me wrong she probably chewed his ass out for it but she adored you.) 

Now, as you grew older people started saying it to your face, even kids at your school. But everytime you brought it up to Alastor he got angry, not at you, so he teaches you how to defend yourself and makes sure that you know to never start a fight. 

But once in hell, the name still sticks. Susan once overheard Alastor and Rosie’s conversation about it and called you that to your face. (Mean ass old woman right there.) And to say you were upset was an understatement, you knew better than to get into adult’s business but you just ran to your Papa sobbing cause you had thought you escaped that treatment. Despite being in Hell. You’re just clinging to his pants as you try your darndest not to cry but gosh the words keep echoing, both Rosie and Alastor are immediately worried about you. Cause you never cry or cause too much trouble!

Once they hear what Susan said? Rosie has to keep Alastor from flipping his lid. You stay by his side the rest of the day too scared to go play with the other kids in Cannibal Town. It shouldn’t bother you too much but you’ve been called that your entire few years of living and now it’s followed you down to Hell? What if the others start doing such a thing? 

Not to worry, Auntie Rosie shuts the whole thing down if she even catches a whiff of it. 

NOW ONTO NICER THINGS-

Full credit to @aceblaze01 for the idea of Vox being in Child!Reader’s afterlife! Especially when he and Alastor were hanging out(idk if I should call them partners). He was like an odd Uncle to you! Also 100% would let you watch kids cartoons on his screen, but you were so confused by it that you stood there staring at him before finally getting comfortable to sit down and watch those weird picture shows your papa talked about. He would totally put on Disney films for you. 

You watched Bambi once and ended up crying. He had to hold you and calm you down before Alastor was alerted. After that he stuck with everything else but Bambi. 

You sometimes go with Alastor to Overlord meetings and sit next to him drawing, not paying any mind to what’s going on either. You mostly draw your Papa and Auntie Rosie but you’ve started to draw Vox and that man cries when you hand him the drawings of him with very shaky handwriting and misspelled words. He loves it and keeps it hung up on his wall framed and everything. You gave a drawing to a lot of the nicer Overlords as a thank you for letting you join with your Papa. You gave one to Zestial, Carmilla and many of the unnamed ones that didn’t look too scary..you gave those to your Papa so he can give it to them. 

Even after all those years and Alastor’s falling out with Vox as a whole, he kept your drawings still safely framed. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Valentino said one bad thing about them and got the shock of his afterlife. That’s the last time he brought it up. He still checks up on you, makes sure you're alright. Even though he can’t physically be next to you cause Alastor would lose his fucking shit, he makes sure he has people check up on you. 

Vox has killed people who even thought of putting a hit out on you before Alastor ever caught wind about it. He’s not a man to play around with when it comes to you- his little niece/nephew/nibling (gender neutral term for niece/nephew).

During exterminations? Alastor stays with you the whole time. He doesn’t need anything hurting you. He keeps you in his room with books and anything else you want to bring. When you're in the hotel and extermination is around the corner, while the hotel is relatively safe. He still makes sure you stay far away from any doors leading to the outside. 

Oh boy, you are the only one able to sit in his tower with him while he works! He has a chair designated for you and will answer any and all questions about his work (even if they do get silly and repetitive). You’ll fall asleep sometimes when he’s on air and he doesn’t miss a beat wrapping his jacket around you as he continues to talk.

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord

[kanmom51]

Okay so I had to put my thoughts down in words

I just don’t know how to feel about what Jimin said in the bts of Muse, other than sad.

I guess I should start by saying I’d been dreading him saying something along the lines of that since I heard Who, as to why he made it. The MV bts came and went and then bam, we get a mini production diary, with saying he’s looking for love and is alone. Exactly how I thought he would explain it.

I hoped I’d be wrong but alas, he more than confirmed he is single. I suppose it’s not surprising, but all of our collective hope or support seems in vein now.

I’m still going to watch the travel show but I feel sad about it tbh. They make such a cute pair.

I'm really sorry that you feel that way love.

Especially knowing that you are just not taking what JM said the right way.

In any case babe, whatever you might believe about their relationship, that shouldn't take from you supporting them for being the most adorable human beings possible.

I won't go too much into the BTB. I do think you need to watch it multiple times, try to pay attention to JM's body language too. But I will say that I do think that your reaction here is unwarranted, in the sense that JM IS NOT saying he's single or that he is looking for love or that he is alone.

Let's start with the fact that JM was going for the gender neutral lyrics to start with, but that changed, probably because it sounded better with the "she" instead of the "you".

So, yeah, JM originally wasn't looking for a she, but a you. Funny how if this was an autobiographical song that would have mattered, right? Oh, wait a second. It isn't.

The song is not about JM, not about his real life, not about his actual experiences down to the T.

Not this song, nor Muse the album, even though the other songs were written by him.

Not an autobiography. Unlike Face.

JM says it here and he said it in his album exchange with RM!!

See, it looks like you are doing exactly what JM wanted fans to do. And that is get the wrong idea!!

Did you miss this perhaps?

Yeah, you probably missed JM saying this.

Btw, when JM talks about his diary, I really don't believe he means a personal diary where he writes his wants and needs and experiences, lol. He's talking about that diary where he writes his ideas for the album, his ideas for the songs, where he wrote his lyrics to the songs for Face (we got that diary with Face) and for Muse. And JM, he's a shy boy, Idk if you are aware of that. This young man who oozes confidence on stage is so very shy and the experience of having to explain to John Billion the idea he wants for the song and it coming to life left him a little self conscious, shy.

This isn't about the song telling the story of his life. This is about having to explain an idea for a song, his vision, it actually being something that he isn't going through.

Ok, moving on.

Again, JM explaining the vibe he is going for with the song.

And again his shyness.

He continues to say that he poured all his emotions into this so he's embarrassed.

Not because these emotions are his as in this is what he feels right now longing for love, but because he feels embarrassed to explain his emotions about the song, the emotions he's looking for in the song.

I suggest that if you are having an issue with understanding how this song is not JM, not his life, maybe go rewatch the album exchange with RM.

And read my post on it as well.

These feeling JM is trying to encompass in Muse (and Who) are part of the universal language of love, a language he is using in Muse to convey his message, which is not literal.

And specifically when he talks about Who, it's about that feeling of excitement in his work that he's looking for. Those are the feelings he's talking about. Not the lyrics about the "she" (who was supposed to be a "you"). Not the lyrics that are written in the universal language of love. No. It's about the feelings about his work. The feelings about the message he is trying to convey. Which has NOTHING to do with his love life!!!

But again, he's telling us about those feelings through a language we all understand. So that longing he has for that feeling with his work is brought to life as a longing for a someone to love.

This!!

It's a story he wants to tell!!!

And the whole "everyone's living alone" sentence that you are probably clinging to, cause obviously...

a. He could be talking about the fact that at some point of every person's life, they are living alone, as without a partner, a loved one, and as such it's a relatable feeling.

b. It's not like people that are in relationships don't feel alone at times. Even JM, who was in a committed relationship with JK when going through the struggles and feelings he had and poured into Face, into Alone felt that way. I bet you JK was feeling alone or lonely during the time JM was working on Face and Muse. During those lives in Feb 2023. And yet, he was in a committed relationship with the person he loved.

c. He's trying to tell a story, and he's trying to convey his longing for that feeling with regards to his work, and being lonely is how he's explaining it, the way he's conveying it to us. Hence the "everyone's living alone"... meaning - that is something everyone will understand, meaning, hoping he picked the right idea, the right way to convey his message as the 6th song for Muse!!!

THAT IS ART!!!

And JM created art. Not "this is a song based on my own experience" art, which he did with Face, but "this is a story I want to tell that will help you understand my feelings about my work" art.

And he knew.

He knew people will make the wrong assumptions.

Just like you are right now.

Side note, and before I go, Idk if you have noticed this, but Muse, promoting the album, talking about the album, is so much easier for JM to do than Face. With Face all we got was that it's personal, that he was struggling, but not much more than that. JM was pretty much staying quiet, and even when he did talk he was saying much of nothingness. While with Muse he's talking, he's opening up, he's explaining. You know why? Because it's not about his life!!

Just saying.

[t-lostinworlds]

Be(tter) In Reality With Me | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

》 SUMMARY: Bucky needed to remind you how he would never ever betray you, especially when the him in your dreams was showing you otherwise.

》 WARNINGS: bad dreams/nightmares, pregnancy & baby stuff, mentions of: infidelity, miscarriage, anxiety, toxic past relationships; implied smut at the start (nothing graphic), pet names (doll, my love, sweetheart), overprotective!husband!bucky (he’s a hoverer), some hurt, so much comfort, very fluffy moments a.k.a. happy ending obvs.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

A/N: this is another unplanned one, like i really just started writing this a few days ago. well, i’ve been toying with the idea for a while but i just never got around to writing/thinking of the perfect premise for it. i coud’ve gone the crack route but you get angst instead. but anyway, this is barely proofread, idk how this turned out. and i know ‘husband fever’ isn't a thing but i honestly got it while writing this soooo hope you enjoy it too!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The disappointment was sharp in your chest as you trudged towards the front door of your home, fingers curled around an unopened envelope that felt heavier than any normal piece of paper should.

Your husband was supposed to be there with you.

Bucky was supposed to meet you at the clinic so you could find out your baby's gender together. But he hadn't been answering any of your messages or calls since this morning. Better yet, he'd been avoiding you all week. There had been more voicemails than there were replies. It was worrying because you two had been fine, things were normal the week before and now it felt as though he was avoiding you at all cost.

Yet the disappointment was quickly replaced by dread when you opened the front door.

The heels were what you saw first, a pair that you were sure wasn't yours. Even if there was a slightest chance that they were, they had no business being down here and not in your closet. Being pregnant, you hadn't worn heels in months.

Next were the scattered clothes, both familiar and not, a feminine scent lingering in the air that had your stomach turning in knots. They were the most horrid pieces of bread crumbs, one that you knew was leading you towards something vile and agonizing.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you ascended the stairs, each thump growing harsher to marry with your step. Your fingers trembled on your baby bump, the fluttering inside growing restless like a blaring alarm. When you reached the landing, that was when you heard it.

An enthusiastic creaking of the bed, salacious moans and grunts sinisterly harmonizing, unashamedly loud as if they weren't doing something so evil. It was deafening that you couldn't even hear your own heart shatter into pieces.

You wanted to turn around and leave, telling yourself that seeing the treacherous act would do more harm than good. But you didn't have control of your own body. You were pulling at your own hand, wanting to drag yourself away but to no avail as you kept walking.

The door was wide open when you reached it, shameless and uncaring of getting caught.

And you stood there, frozen, shattering into pieces as you watched your husband mold his naked body into another woman, his metal fingers tangled in her blonde hair, his hips driving back and forth recklessly, their faces contorted in pleasure while a picture of you and him on your wedding day stood on the nightstand.

It felt like a bullet to the heart when he lifted his head and met your eyes.

Gone were the soothing blues you'd called home, gone was the man you'd given your all, who you'd grown to love, to trust.

There were only dark gray hues laced with no guilt, no remorse, a face resembling the love of your life but was truly the Devil incarnate.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in quick succession, bile and air stuck in your throat, your heart stopping as something warmer, thicker with a metallic scent trickled down your leg.

He grinned.

You gasped.

•••

Bucky noticed how you'd been short with him lately.

Your kisses were less enthusiastic, his touches or any form of affection were being brushed off, your conversations turning brief, other times barely happening at all.

He tried to reason that you simply needed space, that maybe he was overbearing, overstimulating your senses by hovering around you too much. But, really, who could blame him for taking care of you and making sure his pregnant wife was healthy and safe?

But it was at night that his concern turned to suspicion, when you were facing away from him when you slept, muttering and mumbling, restless. It was when you'd flinch in surprise when he'd wake you up, eyes dazed with something else other than drowsiness. He'd ask you what was wrong, and each time you'd shake your head wordlessly and attempt to go back to sleep.

He remained patient though. It was the least he could do, especially in your state.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't downright worried, especially when he found something uncanny about your behavior.

Bucky expected your irritability and annoyance. You snapping at him for something so mundane was a common thing he'd been facing lately and had certainly no qualms over. Your mind, emotions, and body were going through a lot and in waves, it was the bare minimum for him to understand. So he never took your harsh glares and clipped tones to heart.

But what was uncanny was the look of doubt, followed by a flicker of fear and then the heartbreak that would cross your face. It was in split seconds, when you see him on the phone, when he was out longer than he'd promised after getting you one of your weird cravings, when he came back late at night after a spontaneous outing with the guys when Wanda and Nat all but kicked him out since it was their turn to pamper you.

Bucky had a feeling that something was wrong. He simply couldn't put a finger as to what.

The nagging voice in the back of his head only grew when Sam and Sarah were in town. It was a surprise visit, so they didn't catch you in time.

You were already out with your mother, a rocky relationship that you hoped would start to mend over baby clothes and strollers.

"Bucky! Come on!" Sarah groaned playfully when he refused to tell them the gender of the baby.

He wanted you to disclose it, and he certainly wasn't going to do it without you by his side. You found out together, it was only fair you tell people the news together, too.

The harsh slam of the front door silenced everyone.

Bucky knew it was you right away, rushing to meet you in the hallway when he heard the intensity of your heartbeat and the sharpness of your breaths, footsteps hurried as if you'd been running.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, his heart clenching at the sight of your stricken features. "What's wrong?"

It took you a minute to respond, eyes flickering between his face and over his shoulder, like you were looking for something. Bucky watched your body slowly relax when Sam and Sarah followed closely behind him.

It only confused him more.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, thumb stroking your warm cheek as he gently placed the other on your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I thought—" You shook your head, finally meeting his eyes with a sad smile. "Mom canceled last minute."

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pulling you into his arms, kissing the top of your head when you let out a shaky breath, cheek pressed on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bucky knew how you were truly looking forward to this day. You'd been carefully dividing your lists into two so you could buy things with your mother and then with him, too.

"We'll just get those on our shopping trip, okay?" he murmured against your crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Glancing behind him, he added with a lighter tone, "Or you can give Sam the list and he'll just gift us everything."

"Oh I would gladly do it," The self—not really—proclaimed uncle agreed. "If Buckaroo here will finally tell us whether we're having a niece or a nephew."

Bucky scoffed, "You know you can choose gender-neutral colors, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about colors," Sam said, grinning. "I'm talking about quantity."

"Are you saying the niece gets more?" you asked with a soft laugh as you pulled away. The sound brushed away Bucky's worry, if only briefly, as he felt the tension leave your body. Still, his arm remained on your waist as you turned to your guests, his thumb rubbing soft circles as a means of comfort.

"Obviously," Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Gotta treat her like a princess."

"Can't argue with that." Bucky turned to you with an encouraging nod. "You want to put them out of their misery?"

"Well, you're having…" you trailed off, smile widening, eyes twinkling as a joyful glow kissed your face. The exact reason why Bucky loved letting you tell the news and being there when you did so. "A nephew."

The contrast between the siblings' reactions was amusing. Sarah erupted into a cheer resembling happiness and victory, while Sam all but threw his head back with a groan. Bucky still saw his friend try his best to hide a smile, though.

"I told you!" Sarah playfully smacked his brother on the arm. "A mother's intuition is never wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, before turning to you with a proud grin, arms wide open. "Come here you."

You chuckled as you walked into his embrace, mumbling a soft "Thank you" at his congratulations. Sarah hugged you next, all teary yet happy smiles and sweet words as you both wandered to sit in the living room, the mother of two boys already gushing to you about endless advice.

"I'm happy for you man," Sam said as he pulled Bucky into a hug, patting his back before pulling away with narrowed eyes. "You better be taking care of her."

"Of course I am," Bucky scoffed, turning to watch you with a fond smile as you chatted animatedly, excitement evident in your well-being. "Hell, she might even be getting annoyed with my overbearing ass."

"Well, it's better to be overbearing than absent," Sam stated.

Bucky couldn't agree more.

Because fine, maybe he was being too much by always keeping an eye out for you even though you were safe and sound, lounging on the couch as Sam started pestering you about naming the baby after him. But if he wasn't, then he would've missed the way your smile slipped from time to time, shoulders slumping with exhaustion before you'd catch yourself and sit straight up and pretend your energy was still high.

He was thankful that Sam was perceptive enough to catch it too, along with the hints Bucky was throwing his way. So they cut their visit short, understanding that you needed to get some rest even if you hadn't explicitly said so.

Bucky was right on his call when the second the front door shut closed, your body visibility deflated, the day finally catching up with you.

He was probably hovering like a goddamn helicopter, trailing behind you when you did as much as walk from the living room to the bathroom, and then waiting for you outside the door. But if he hadn't, he would've missed your soft sniffles on the other side and the far-away look in your eyes once he'd checked on you twice after taking way too long inside than how you normally took.

If Bucky hadn't been overbearing, he would've missed the signs that something was bothering you, like something was eating away at your conscience.

"Hey, come here," he called for you later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning you closer with his hands outstretched. Tangling your fingers together, he pulled you to stand in front of his opened legs, kissing your bump before resting his cheek on it, looking up at you with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, attempting to smile but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

That only made his worry grow more.

It was something he'd noticed lately, too, how you'd been having trouble sleeping, much less, staying asleep. Most of the time, once you were comfortable in bed, it only took you a minute or two before you were out like a light.

At first, Bucky thought it was because you were nearing the end of your second trimester. It was to be expected, according to the countless pregnancy books he'd buried his face in and the weekly pregnancy calendar he found on the internet—which showed how big the baby was, what symptoms you were likely to feel and ways to aid you through it, how many weeks there were left, exercises to keep you comfortable and healthy and so on—he used as a guide.

But he didn't think nightmares were supposed to be part of it.

Bucky knew they weren't merely innocent dreams because you were always so shaken when he'd wake you up. There was always a sting settling in his chest when you'd pull away from his touch for a good few moments, eyes avoiding his as you tried to catch your breath. You'd only crawl back into his arms once your heart had settled into a calm rhythm, the haze in your irises never truly gone but faded.

You never told him what your dreams consisted of and Bucky never pushed.

He couldn't. Not with the risk of upsetting you even more. All he could do was remain patient. He knew you would tell him eventually. 

Bucky just wished it didn't have to take your breaking point for that to happen.

•••

The mumbling was what stirred him awake.

Bucky quickly sat up to check on you, his frown growing deeper once he saw your features littered with distress.

Yet before he had the chance to gently take you away from your troubled slumber, you suddenly shot up with a distressed shout,

"No!"

Your sobs immediately hit his ears, your frantic hands pulling the sheets away as if they were suffocating you. Your body trembled, chest heaving as you hastily checked your bump before you trailed your fingers down your inner thighs, bringing them up to your line of sight as if you were expecting to see something horrible coating your skin.

Dread clutched at Bucky's heart when the inkling as to what you expected to see evaded his mind.

"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands in an attempt to snap you out of your panic. Tear-filled eyes met his and his heart broke at the utter fear and agony that covered your face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, never looking away as he kept one cold hand on your burning and wet cheek and took yours with the other. He pressed your palm above his heart, hoping that it would help ground you.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, inhaling deeply, encouraging you to follow, exhaling once you did. He took your other hand and pressed it against his jaw, letting his warm breath flow over your palm to help aid you in steadying your breathing. "That's it, my love, breathe with me."

Bucky repeated the action as many times he could, marrying it with encouraging words, only stopping when he could hear your heart slow to a steady beat.

"Y-You—" You choked back a whimper, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I-I'm okay."

It sounded more like a question than it was a statement to Bucky.

"You're okay," he reassured firmly, kissing your forehead and steadying your shaking hands over your stomach. "You both are."

Silence covered the room aside from your deep breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets following suit as Bucky shifted to sit behind you, guiding you between his legs until your back was pressed against his chest. You rested all your weight on him, his hands covering your own as he coaxed them to move in slow circles over your stomach. He littered your shoulder with soft kisses, trailing up the side of your neck then your cheek, moving back down as he whispered sweet reassurances.

"You wouldn't do that to me, w-would you?" you asked after a moment.

"Do what, my love?"

Your voice came out as a broken whisper, as if you were scared to say it any louder, as if it would come true if you did.

"Cheat on me."

Bucky's answer was immediate.

"No." He gently turned you around in his arms, your legs thrown over his thigh as you sat sideways. Taking your face in his hand, he nudged the tip of your nose with his to get you to look at him, to let you see the truth in his eyes, emotions bared and unhidden. "I would never."

You nodded meekly before dropping your head, his lips touching your crown.

"Sweetheart, hey," he whispered, fingers finding your chin to prevent you from hiding again. His frown deepened when you met his gaze, the pain and conflict coating your dulled irises doing nothing to ease his worries. "Where is this coming from?"

But with one look at your trembling form and troubled eyes, Bucky's heart sank at the realization.

"Doll…" He took a deep breath, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Is this what you've been dreaming of lately?"

Bucky never expected for such a small nod to break his heart so much.

"I-I watched you and—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, shaking his head vehemently, kissing the tip of your nose, and then each of your eyelids. "You don't have to tell me right now. I don't want you to dwell on it for too long."

"I have to get out," you whispered yet your tone was adamant, fingers starting to nervously fiddle with his vibranium ones.

Bucky hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to stress you out more than you already were. But when you squeezed his hand reassuringly, he sighed, offering you a small yet supportive smile. "Okay. But don't force it, please, sweetheart. I don't want you getting upset even more."

You nodded.

Bucky listened.

He listened with bated breath as you recounted your dreams, his heart tearing itself apart, piece by piece with each gruesome detail you managed to stutter out. Heels. Clothes. Stairs. Sounds. Bedroom. Bodies. Picture Frame.

Bucky made sure to remind you to take your time and take deep breaths, it's just a bad dream, wiping away your tears as he held you close in his arms, you're my everything, littering whichever part of you he could reach with soft kisses to remind you were here, present in reality with him, and that you're okay.

Bucky never thought he'd feel inhumane anger over a version of himself that wasn't and would never be part of reality. He'd honestly die first. Yet, even then, he still couldn't picture subjecting you to such awful betrayal and hurt.

If he could jump into your dreams and excruciatingly make that asshole pay, no matter if it was some version of him, he would do it over and over and over again. No questions asked.

"And t-then there was b-blood," you took a sharp breath, a knife into Bucky's chest as fresh tears escaped your eyes, your grip around his hand tightening. "I-I lost our—"

"That's enough," Bucky interrupted, voice soft yet hoarse as a lump lodged itself in his throat, blinking away his unshed tears. With one hand on the back of your head, he pressed his lips against your brow. "It's just a nightmare, sweetheart."

"It f-felt so real," you choked back a sob, shaking your head as if you were hoping it would rid the images away. 

"This is real," Bucky said, placing your palm on his cheek, the other on your baby bump with his own hands covering yours. "You're okay. Our baby boy is okay. We are going to be okay."

You nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths as you brought his palm to your lips. You kissed it a few times, three more before you wrapped his arms around your form, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck.

"I would never do that to you," he murmured against the side of your head, rubbing gentle circles on your back. "You trust me, right?"

"I do!" you said, eyes frantically looking into his with all the reassurance you could muster despite your tiredness, lips trembling as you repeated, "I trust you with everything that I have. I trust you with my life, Buck—"

He nodded. He knew you did. He didn't feel any ounce of uncertainty in your voice, didn't see any assumption that he was capable of being unloyal in your eyes. Maybe that was where your conflict came from, your heart battling with the lies your subconscious was feeding you.

This wasn't about the strength of your trust in him. This was something else entirely.

"Who put this in your head, hmm?"

Bucky knew you well enough, how you sometimes got too into your overthinking mind. Your past relationships definitely contributed to that fact. Toxicity to downright emotional abuse and various infidelities from previous boyfriends, it was no surprise that you came out of those relationships scarred.

You went to therapy when you finally had the resources to, and Bucky was always there to support you, told you it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he was going to individual sessions himself, much less frequently compared to his earlier years, but the path to healing was never linear. He even suggested couples counseling—once a month at best, twice on the bad ones. Not because something was broken with your relationship, but only as a tool to be able to understand each other more, to keep things healthy between you both.

It helped tremendously.

You'd grown to shine brighter each day, letting yourself be free of the doubtful voices and instead accept and own that you were deserving to be loved, strongly, loyally, and unconditionally.

Now, after being together for eight years—three in a relationship and five years of marriage—you and Bucky were stronger, healthier, happier. And with a baby boy on the way, he knew it would only strengthen your bond, adding more joy and love to your little family.

But recently, your pregnancy hadn't been easy on your mental state. With your body preparing itself to welcome new life into this world, to your hormones fluctuating, it only heightened your emotions, and that included the bad ones.

So it wasn't far-fetched for your anxious thoughts to grow like weeds in your head, unrelenting and parasitic with no means of stopping unless you pluck it out from the root. But for the first sprout to emerge, someone had to have planted that seed first.

"Remember when I went on that 'girl's night in' get-together?"

Bucky sighed. That was two weeks ago. He should've known that your quietness when you got home was something to be worried about. Even more when it was roughly the same time you started having trouble sleeping. To think that you had to deal with your dreams alone for that long—

He pulled you closer, rubbing your arms with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember Karla?"

Bucky remembered her too. He only met her once when you brought him as your plus one to her engagement party. Now, he wasn't the type of person who was quick to pass judgment on people, especially at the first meeting. But first impressions? She hadn't exactly been the best, too forward and sometimes, rude for Bucky's liking. But she was your friend, so he let it slide.

"She arrived late. She was already very drunk and distraught," you continued once Bucky confirmed with a nod. "We immediately tried to console her, get her to calm down, but she just wouldn't let go of the bottle of whisky, started grabbing the wine the girls were having and chugging it down too. Turns out, she walked in on her fiancé with her best friend in their living room."

Bucky pressed his lips against your crown with a sigh, rubbing circles on your back as he let you pick at the metal plates of his arm. It was a nervous habit. Yet you also said it was comforting, grounding, getting to feel the coldness of the prosthetic.

"Then she looked at me and saw my bump—God that dress didn't really hide much, huh?" you chuckled, voice void of humor.

Bucky loved that dress on you, and he showed you just how much before driving you to that get-together. It was a shame that the memory was now tainted.

"B-But, I don't know, it was probably because I was the only married one in our group, o-or she was just that drunk but she started targeting me," you paused with a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a shake of your head as fresh tears gathered on your waterline.

"She started yelling at me and telling me that I was rubbing it in her face, what she could've had. And then she started screaming how you would do the same any day now, if you weren't already doing it because it was obvious you won't like it that my body is changing and getting bigger a-and that you'd find some slimmer model and she told me to leave you before it's too late and I just—"

Bucky felt hot white rage grip him.

He couldn’t care less what other people's opinions of him were. With what his past life was, he learned not to let it get to him. He should feel insulted, to hear the disrespect against his morals to downright questioning his loyalty to his wife, especially from someone he couldn't give a shit about.

But he wasn't mad about that. Oh no.

He was furious about what you had to endure.

The audacity of someone to make you upset and stressed, especially in your current condition, had him outraged. No one, absolutely no one had the right to raise their voice, much less, fucking yell at you. He didn't care if it was the president of some country, a powerful alien or a close family friend—

Nobody disrespects his wife.

"You know none of that is true," he said as calmly as he could despite wanting to give that 'friend' of yours a piece of his mind. Cupping your face with both hands, he brushed his thumbs against the corner of your lips. "Hell, I showed you how much I love your changing body earlier that day in the kitchen, didn't I?"

That managed to coax a giggle from you, faint and teary but he still took it as a win.

"Look, what happened to your friend was awful. I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone," he said, jaw clenching. "But for her to bring you down with her while you're pregnant? That's just cruel."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly, pressing his palm on your lips. "I shouldn’t have let her words get to me."

"Sweetheart, no, you did nothing wrong," Bucky insisted. "Your emotions are all over the place as is, your hormones even more. And I know how impressionable you get when your anxiety is high and, fuck, you must've been so stressed when she basically berated you in front of everyone I just—" He took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against yours. "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I was worried you'd take it the wrong way," you admitted shakily. "Because I do trust you, but things got loud in my head and I just—"

"I know," he hummed, smiling reassuringly. "I know, doll. You don't have to explain it to me."

You sighed, nodding, your body slowly relaxing with a hint of a grateful smile touching your lips. And with the weight slowly falling off your shoulders, your drowsiness followed suit—the fluttering of your eyelids, the calmness of your breaths as you all but rested on him.

Bucky fluffed your pregnancy pillow before gently guiding you to a comfortable position, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose before pressing his lips gently onto yours. He hummed at your satisfied sigh, hands caressing your body, pouring as much of his love into every simple touch as he could muster.

"You're my whole world, my everything," he whispered to you and you only, the person who matters to him the most. "I would never put myself in a position where I'd even risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky's brows furrowed when he felt a flutter against his palm where he'd rested it on your bump.

"I think someone's a little jealous," you teased softly, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Now, we can't have that," he chuckled, shifting his body until he was face-to-face with your belly. He pulled at your shirt, revealing your skin before littering each part and stretch marks with loving kisses. Smiling, he corrected himself, "One of the best things that's ever happened to me."

His grin grew wider as you started carding your fingers through his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this, resting on your bump with your loving touches.

"Say, you're going to kick my ass if I hurt Mama, wouldn't you, squirt?" he murmured against your tummy, his heart lurching when he felt a faint kick. Bucky gaped at you, chuckling at your giggles before pressing his lips back on your skin. "Gonna be a mama's boy I can already tell."

"I love you," you said, eyes glistening but with the smile that graced your face, Bucky knew they were happy tears this time.

"And I love you," he hummed, resting his cheek on your bump to meet your gaze, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. "Both of you."

•••

"Doll, you don't have to do this."

"They're going to be here in an hour."

"I know but you shouldn't be on your feet too much."

"Exercise is good for pregnant women," you said, tilting your head at your husband with a knowing grin. "You told me that, according to the books you've read."

"I know what I said," Bucky groaned, hands finding your hips as he tried to gently steer you to sit on the chair, again. "But in moderation, you've been standing for—"

"Five minutes since you last made me sit down," you giggled, continuing to set up the dinner table with the snacks and appetizers you had set up. The main meal was kept warm in the oven.

It was your turn to host the get-together your friend group had once a month. And being in your third trimester, you were unable to stay up too late. So you opted on having a small brunch instead of the usual nightly gathering.

"Then, let me take care of the rest, please?" he begged, wrapping his arms around your form to stop your movements, lips pressed on the thin strap of your sundress. And if he wasn't overly cautious about your well-being, he probably would've already carried you to bed to let you rest. "Just sit and order me around."

Now, who could deny that offer?

Bucky was a great husband.

You knew this and he had done nothing but actively prove that to you time and time again.

You knew you shouldn't have let yourself get to a point of spiraling deep into your anxious thoughts that they started to affect your dreams somehow. But it honestly got overwhelming so quickly that you didn't get the chance to snap out of it. Worse yet, it made you dig the hole deeper and deeper by keeping it to yourself.

It was a lapse in judgment and, as Bucky had said, your emotions were all over the place. Not to mention, the situation wasn't at all pleasing, getting yelled at in front of an audience was awful already, a recipe for anxious disaster. What more if your hormones were making everything ten times worse?

Your friend simply caught you at the wrong moment.

The same friend that was going to be coming over in a few minutes.

You didn't tell Bucky yet because you knew he would never let her into the house. But you were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was drunk and hurting that night, emotions probably driving her rash decisions. Granted you hadn't spoken to her since, but she probably didn't mean what she had said.

Or so you thought.

After shooting you an admonishing look when he recognized who walked into the door last, Bucky was back in Pilot Mode.

It's what you named his hovering because he did go into certain modes when taking care of you, even if he argued otherwise. And despite having agreed that he was going to give you and the girls space—and he had been sulking in his office as he watched whatever game there was on—it rapidly changed when the party moved to your backyard.

The sun was at its peak in the clear blue sky, warmth evident in the air despite sitting under the shade of the large patio umbrella Bucky installed himself.

First, it was pulling you aside for some sunscreen, lathering your skin up as he lectured you about taking sips of water every now and then to stay hydrated and to go back inside if it got too hot. Then, it was standing in the kitchen, right by the open window where he had a clear view of you, discreetly observing even though his large stature was making him so obvious. Your friends had giggled about it since most did find it endearing. That last one was him bursting out of the backdoor with a cold glass of water and a clean towel in hand, wiping away any sweat that littered your skin and urging you to drink, parting away with a chaste yet loving kiss.

It was what made Karla snap.

"God, I can't believe you still fall for that shit," she scoffed once your husband had gone back inside. "Like, seriously, have you ever heard of love bombing?"

Everyone went silent at that.

"He's overprotective," you countered, though you could already start to feel your heart rate start to increase.

"More like he's overcompensating for something," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "He was a trained assassin back in the day, wasn't he? Surely he'd learned a thing or two about hiding secrets."

"Karla, drop it," Grace, a friend truly close to you, hissed with a sharp glare.

"I'm trying to save her from yet another heartbreak," she argued, before turning to you. "Like we all know how gullible and naïve you can get, a few romantic gestures and you're already blinded. I mean, considering your track record of cheaters, you should already know the signs. I know I see them with how your husband's been doting on you. It's the same thing the asshole did to me."

Your hands shook as you held the glass of water tighter, tears threatening to spill as you gritted, "Bucky is not the same—"

"Jesus, you need to open your eyes!" Karla interrupted. "I never expected you to still be this stupid—"

"That's enough."

Bucky's voice boomed through the air, his looming presence immediately behind you with a protective arm around your waist. Emotions at a high, you didn't even realize you stood up from your seat. You tried catching his gaze, but he was glaring at Karla who had now quieted down, shrinking in her place.

"I don't care about your assumptions about my morals and character because your opinion doesn't matter to me. So say whatever you want to say about me. But the second you disrespect my wife—" Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, reeling back his anger when he felt your hand on his arm.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at you. You shook your head, not wanting to make this any bigger. He sighed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and then your ring before turning to Karla.

"I love making my wife happy, and she'd been looking forward to this get-together to catch up with friends. But she isn't supposed to be around any kind of stressors during her pregnancy," he said, glare dead set on your so-called friend, voice dropping as he gritted, "So get out of my fucking house."

"Buck—"

"Doctor's orders, my love. I can call her right now if you want." He gave you a sweet, knowing smile. You nodded because you knew there was no point arguing with him. Bucky turned to your friend when she refused to move. "Well? Do you want me to drag you out?"

Karla gaped at everyone, waiting for someone to protest, huffing and puffing when she found no support. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and for the front door to slam shut.

The silence hung in the air for a good minute.

"Good fucking riddance," Grace scoffed, the tension breaking as a chorus of agreement came out from everyone. "I honestly don't get why you still invited her."

"Too kind for her own good," Bucky said, raising his brow at you. You shook your head at him with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"You're in your guard dog mode again," you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying it. That only made you grin wider.

"Well, this is supposed to be a girls' thing so I'll leave you ladies to your own devices." He nodded at everyone, giving you a sweet peck on the lips before making his way back into the house, even though you knew he was only going back to his station in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, everyone started gushing at you.

"You're so lucky but God you deserve it!"

"Girl, you need to set me up with a friend of his, like surely they're going to be roughly the same, right?"

"Honestly, I'm glad you're getting your happy ever after."

"Does he use that deep voice on you in bed?"

"Oh my god!" you squeaked at the last one, covering your warm face with your palms. When you peeked between your fingers, the girls were all looking at you with expectant grins, brows wriggling. You sighed, "Maybe."

They all erupted into delighted laughs at that, the conversation turning into a slightly salacious turn as they started trading in stories—both good and horrendous—and asking you for some advice on how to keep a guy satisfied or even just to spill the beans on what you and your husband get up to in bed.

Obviously, you didn't kiss and tell—well, not in too much detail. You still couldn't help but sing Bucky's praises. Of course you had to give credit where credit is due.

It was a few moments in when you caught Bucky's gaze in the open window. His wink and that handsome yet smug—his ego inflated that's for sure—smile was enough to tell you that he was listening in like the goddamn nosy super soldier that he was.

You rolled your eyes, yet your joyous smile wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Because to be in reality with James Buchanan Barnes, your husband, the love of your life, was way better than any dream you could ever have.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[ollimus-prime]

Hey :) , Loved your jazz hands and might i say that im absolutely obsessed with it. Could i request more? Maybe day in the life / slice of life of being held captive by jazz. Gosh we are just so helpless with him and jazz is special ops lmao. Is it wrong to say id be cool with it? -🐞

Jazz Hands Pt. 2

A/N, not important: Sorry if the characterization is off, I'm still learning. I'm only like, 90 comics in. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapped, you're basically a pet idk

Words: 1513

Summary: You're stuck with Jazz for now.

Pt. 1

The room was empty. You look around, glancing between the lone slab of metal your kidnapper, ‘Jazz’, slept on and the door. He was gone, really and truly gone. The desk you were left on gave you just enough of a view of the room to be certain, letting you slip nervously off of the pile of rags you now slept on. Hope bloomed in your chest before you angrily stamped it down, not letting yourself get too excited. This was possibly your only chance of leaving this horrid place, and you were not going to let something as pitiful as hope get in your way. No, you needed to be logical about this.

You carefully made your way to the edge of the desk, trying to judge the distance to the floor. The long way down made you feel dizzy, a pit forming in your stomach. The chair was slightly pushed out and, while a worrying distance still far down, was much more inviting than the floor. You try to steele your nerves to jump, working up the courage to take the fall. Sure, it was maybe 8 feet down, but the worst that could happen is you break something. You wince, starting to lose your nerve at the thought.

With carefully curated confidence and determination, you back away from the edge before bolting forwards and throwing yourself towards the chair, trying to keep your body loose as you fall. The fall is short but sickening, your mind reeling as the images of you broken on a chair for the robot who took you to find flashing through your head.

The landing is painful, your legs giving way under you and knocking you to your knees. You let yourself starfish out onto the chair and take deep breaths. Rushing getting up seemed more of a bad idea than the jump itself was. You carefully roll your ankles in a small circle as you lay there, making sure nothing was broken or damaged. Pleased with the results and your resolve growing once more, you push yourself up to inspect the next jump you had to make.

You sigh at the similar height down to the floor, internally wincing at the hard metal you’d be jumping down onto. While the chair was made of a similar material, the floor itself seemed all that more threatening. You steady yourself, getting ready to throw yourself off the next ledge and bolt to freedom. You change your tactic, lowering yourself down and hanging yourself off the edge of the chair instead of jumping straight down. With the height between your feet and the floor now much lower, you let go.

The impact on your legs is much easier to deal with. You smile wide as you merely wobble this time, almost laughing in joy at the realization you were now on the ground. You make your way over to the door, inspecting the gap between the floor. The gap was small, much smaller than anything you could squeeze through. Ideas float through your head as you inspect the door, trying to come up with some way to get out and get away.

The door wasn’t willing to budge no matter how much you tried, and the keypad was much too far above you. Not like you knew the passkey for it anyways. You grit your teeth, kicking the door in frustration. Upon making impact with the door, a loud thud sounds. You freeze, looking at the door in confusion before you hear another one, then another. Panic wells up in you as you try to scramble away from the door as you realize what that sound was. Footsteps. 

Jazz was back.

The door slides open before you’re even close to somewhere you could hide, the surprised rev of his engine your only warning before you’re scooped into his hands. The speed at which he picks you up causes your head to spin. With no time at all, you’re eye-to-visor with him and he looks none too pleased.

“What’re you doing on the floor like that? I could’ve stepped on you!” He scolds, the vibrato of his voice washing over you. The deep sound still scared you. It surprised you how something so completely foreign and inhumane could sound so close to your own native tongue.

You bite down on your cheek in hopes to prevent yourself from retorting. The robot’s engine rumbles in frustration at your silence, his hands shifting so you’re settled in one while the other holds you still. Large fingers start to tousle your hair in the manner of a human to a mouse. 

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” The Porsche mutters in resignation, more to himself than to you. You try to bat away his fingers that seemed to yearn to squeeze the air out of you, the robot’s face contorting into a frown. You refused to engage with the robot in any positive way since you’ve been here, causing his insistence that you’re happy with him to come into question. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had you, and nearly a week since you had refused to even speak to him. It was the only way so far you could ‘fight back’. Especially since he and the others freak out if you skip even a single bite of food.

The ‘bot sighs after a while of you still refusing to respond, his hands cupping under you once more before depositing you onto his shoulder. The temptation to try and jump from his shoulder was quickly squashed with a quick glance down reminding you that you couldn’t make it unscathed. The height from the desk to the ground seemed like child's play now. You ease your way into the small space between where the car’s hood ended and the cables of his neck began, taking careful consideration to stand somewhere you weren’t going to lose a limb if he moved weirdly. The first couple steps made your stomach lurch and your hands cling desperately to the thick cables in hopes you wouldn’t be launched off the shoulder of the metal beast. It was a hated compromise, to cling to the monster that kidnapped you and made you a glorified pet or be dropped from thirty feet, but a necessary one.

The Porsche walks through the halls of the ship he brought you on, greeting the other robots he sees with an easy smile. You weren’t particularly sure where he was going, the ‘bots sure steps tussling you each time. You hated when he carried you like this, yet you weren’t willing to be held in his hands either.

It was a short walk to the room he wanted. The tables were occupied by other bots you didn’t care to find out the names of, garbled speech washing over you. You didn’t usually care to hear what they were saying, their conversations of ‘Decepticons’ and whatever war they spoke of going completely over your head. Nothing here made sense anyways.

The ‘bot under you walks over to the dispenser of their fuel(Energon, as he’d explained one) and draws a cube. The glowing pink liquid was mesmerizing. You were drawn to it in a way, the soft glow easier on your eyes than the harsh lights the rest of the ship had. He starts to drink from his cube-shaped glass while moving away from the dispenser to let others access it too. You stumble slightly as he moves, tensing back up against his neck in hopes to stay upright.

“Jazz,” One of the more robotic voices sounds. You scowl as you look towards the call, hiding further behind Jazz’s neck. The cop-bot stares at your movement as he regards the Porsche, his metal face scrunching up. “Ah. You brought your organic. Of course.”

Jazz’s engine revs slightly at the dig, his hand coming back up to cup around your form. You shrink away in an attempt to escape the new prison, but fail miserably as your space gets noticeably tighter. “Uh-huh. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s an organic,” Prowl says with heavy judgment in his voice. Jazz sighs, his optic flashing at the tactician.

“They’re called humans, Prowl.”

“Sure,” He dismisses, ignoring the Porsche’s statement. He hands Jazz one of the large tablets the robots used. You zone out of the rest of their conversation, their heavy voices deep enough to go in one ear and out the other. You settle down against Jazz’s neck cables as his hand starts to rub at your head and back again. You kick at his fingers to no avail in an attempt to fight him off. The ‘bot pays no attention to your wants, instead shifting his hand so you can't fight back.

You slump back, bitter and miserable in your new state of life. Daydreams of hopping down heroically from the monster’s shoulder and running to freedom fill your head as you sulk. Maybe you could come up with a plan to finally get you out of here and back home.

Maybe.

[simp4konig]

König mistakenly shoots you on the battlefield

König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~4500

*SLOW burn but when my writing finally has that spark this fic catches FIRE and FAST so be prepared!! 🔥🔥

*⚠️Angst Angst! ANGST!⚠️

*THABK YOU SO SO SO MUCH TO AZZY MY NO.1 FAN FOR THIS AMAZING IDEA!!!! 🥰🥰🥰I LOVE *YOU* VERY MUCH!! 🥹🫶🫶💞💞💞💞 💞💞💞💞💞THANK UVFOR ALWAUS LIKING MYNPOSTS AND BEING SO KIND TO ME YOU MAKE EBERY HOIR SPENT WRITING WORTH IT AS I AM ALWAYS EAGER FOR YOUR MESSAGES😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓I AM *YOUR* NO.1 APPRECIATOR IN ALL RHE GALAXIES🌌🚀✨🌠QNDVWISH U ALL THE BEST ALWAYS!!!!!!🫂🫂💗💗 THIS ENTJRE POST IS DEDICATED TO YOU !!! 🥹(,,havinf said that, i hope u arent TOO taken aback bu tje level of angst here 💀💀REALLT went overboard and I completely apologize 💔)

TWs: König is in love with you. König's sanity slowly deteriorates as the fanfiction progresses. Mentions of attempted suicide, graphic depictions of gore, potentially triggering depictions of depression. König has suicidal thoughts after shooting you. König experiences intense trauma after shooting you and has survivor's guilt.

*Reader's callsign is "King". Implied age gap. One-sided pining from König... but the ending is purposefully kept ambigous (as you, the reader, can interpret the final interaction however you like)! Can be read as a standalone if you have never read any of my works before. <3

*To clarify to those that have already read my works before, this is *NOT* a direct continuation to 1.my fluffy 2.series! This is a separate imagine, but DOES take place in the same KönigxKing microchosm. Whether the following events take place in an alternate timeline or happen at some point in the future/past is for you to decide. Idk man i just write the fics I don't do the world buidling 🗿I write sotires without thingign about the greater picture u honestly think my one shots will tie to a greater plot?☹️No 💔

...

Right from the beginning, König had a gut feeling that this mission was going to go wrong.

It was a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, making him feel queasy on the helicopter ride as the both of you with an additional three others were scheduled for contact in a few minutes' time.

You were just a recruit, and this mission was far too intense for someone with next to no experience in an active warzone for it to be their first. He knew the dangers of missions like this, knew how things could go horribly wrong in an instant.

It wasn't that he doubted your ability. Not at all. From the corner of the room he would silently supervise as you sparred another person, monitoring your movements incase your opponent had the upperhand and you needed guidance.

However, he had never needed to intervene, as he was impressed with your quick reactions and your controlled steps as you'd move on the balls of your feet, arms held up in front of your face. Ambition was in your eyes, your face scrunched up in concentration as you calculated your next move.

You'd defend yourself up until the moment you'd pounce and in a blink of an eye be on top of your opponent, your entire weight pressed on their theirs on the ground. Whether it was another woman, another man, or even a person with bigger bulk you were clearly disadvantaged by, you'd never give up, and took on any challenge with an impressionable passion of a young recruit.

Once they'd be the one to tap out, you'd immediately push yourself off them and offer them a hand, asking them "Are you alright?" in a concerned tone as you were pulling them up. "Sorry for getting aggressive there, sir/miss! I hope I didn't hurt you!"

To which they'd respond with boisterous laughter and a strong clap on your back, you doubled over as they were congratulating you for knocking them off their two feet and telling you to keep up the good work. König couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face, filled with pride at your personal victory.

Once you'd be the one to tap out, you'd part ways honourably, never disrespecting the person that came out on top. If anything, your loss only added fuel to the fire burning in your eyes, driven to work harder. He still admired you, and would be the one to pull you up as he dusted you off, telling you that you did a great job regardless.

"Thank you, sir!" You'd reply bashfully, face red from effort and embarassment. "Though, I'm sure I made a fool of myself with how I was flailing my arms just then..."

"Nein. Not at all," he'd say, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't quite recognize. "You did very well."

Target practice displayed your accurate aim, wool seeping out from the heads of dummies and the targets regularly replaced as the wood would cling in pieces, the center blasted into smithereens by repeated bullseyes from you.

Always lingering nearby to assist, you would gratefully accept König's help and allow him to demonstrate how to operate another gun with an appreciative smile on your face, your genuine eagerness to learn making König's chest tighten. You seemingly never knew the effect you had on him.

You were a naturally skilled soldier, he had observed, and he knew that you'd make an incredible addition to the team, he couldn't deny that.

Yet, he couldn't shake off this feeling as something more grave.

All personel debriefed and the plan disclosed a week prior, the superior went over the plan once more back at base. A large blueprint spilling over the table with weak spots and areas to beware were annotated, his forefinger pointing at different areas of interest. Sketches, photographs, and jottings were displayed from a projector for all to see as you listened closely.

König's jaws were grinding against each other in agitation, having doubts about you being deployed on this mission.

Despite this operation being portayed as an in and out extraction, König knew better. He knew what the stakes were. Intuition urged him to warn you, to confide in you about his doubts and even considered crossing your name off the list and assigning you elsewhere last minute without anyone knowing.

But the thought that he could be controlling you — a young, innocent recruit — and even considered doing something so foul didn't sit right with him.

You were your own person, and he couldn't be your shadow, couldn't act as a human shield against all that was cruel and gruesome in life. You had chosen this job, and therefore must have had at least some idea of what your responsibilities would entail, some knowledge of what soldiers go through in pursuit of glory.

Instead of being so pertubed, he should keep it together, he thought, should maintain a stoic façade. He was your superior — your colonel, for God's sake — he was someone you aspired to be, someone that should be an inspiration, a role model, someone that could have your back and be a reliable body to fall back on.

Not someone that couldn't keep it together when you around.

Especially when he shouldn't have been having feelings for you.

You, a young person vulnerable and easily influenced by people older than you, by the likes of him.

It wasn't right. He wasn't right for what he was feeling, for what he had been thinking. It wasn't right for his feelings to cloud his judgement, wasn't right that abusing his power had even crossed his mind, let alone been tempted to act upon it.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. "König? Are you alright, sir?"

Turning his head to face you, he nodded with false certainty, containing his worry in an attempt to appear confident for you.

"Ja, King, it's okay. Just thinking, that's all."

You quirked a brow, not convinced. "Hey."

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, a serious expression was on your face, which caught König off guard and made his eyes widen. "If you're thinking that I'm going to get myself killed then you've got another thing coming, because I will NOT get shot by the enemy."

His back slumped over a little, averting his gaze for a moment. "Nein, sie haben recht."

"Ich sollte nicht zulassen, dass meine Gefühle mein Urteilsvermögen trüben." König mumbled something else under his breath in German, then quickly shook his head and laughed, looking into your eyes again.

Tension in his body was eased a little. "No, you're right."

A little. Because he wasn't going to dismiss the thoughts gnawing at the back of his head as mere paranoia.

You perked up. "Good, glad we've got that cleared up, sir! I want you to know that I won't disappoint!"

His heart skipped a beat at your smile, so eager to please and make him proud, that he shuffled uncomfortably, trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. Now wasn't the time.

Idly fidgeting with his combat knife as the helicopter blades hummed above, he went back to thinking over all the possibilities and different ways this mission could go awry:

...What if these were the wrong coordinates, or the helicopter would be attacked the minute they landed? The thought of an ambush wasn't an irrational one — it had happened before, he reminded himself — so he had brought a few more weapon crates than necessary for safekeeping.

...What if the helicopter's signal was intercepted and everyone including the pilot were destined for a fatal crash? Counting the number of parachutes and noting the fire exit, he could rest a little easier if an emergency like that was to arise, yet it still did little to soothe his nerves.

...What if you really did get shot? In case that happened, he had alerted some operators beforehand to serve as re-enforcements, one of those on board including a skilled army medic, under the guise of needing more manpower in case things went south. After all, this extraction could not have go wrong. It shouldn't have gone wrong.

But... what if you died? König wouldn't know how to deal with the feelings associated with your death, knowing that he had loved you from afar yet never acted on it. At least he'd be able to keep his shameful secret a secret, and you'd pass away never knowing what he truly saw you as, truly thought of you.

He had little time to figure out what was causing the trepidation to stiffen his muscles as the helicopter suddenly swerved and lowered, landing kilometres away from the designated building yet on unstable ground nonetheless. Any moment soldiers could attack it if they had known the group's location, so the blades kept spinning and the engine kept running for an immediate getaway.

König assumed authority. "Everyone remember the plan?"

Four heads nodded in sync.

"Gut. Then you all know what to do. I will enter from the side with my Lieutenant—" he said, gesturing with his head at a masked operator beside you, "—while you three—" referring to you and two others you were only vaguely aquainted with, "—storm from the back. Ja?"

König's eyes stalled on you for a moment longer than necessary. You were going to be alright, he told himself. He'd keep you in his field of vision and could provide you with cover once you regrouped when you'd really need it.

"A quick extraction," he reminded, eyes stern yet heart disbelieving. "Simply go in, get the data, and go out."

A final nod of the head from König as he and his associate separated from your group. You headed towards the back of the building, fully alert, aiming behind corner incase there had been someone waiting to assassinate you.

Doors creaking as one of the men pushed, the three of you filtered in noiselessly, attempting to be as discreet as possible and wincing when the door slammed not so quietly. Guns cocked and silencers attached, you advanced in a line, blending in to the shadows.

As you walked, there were no signs of life, and the storehouse seemed abandoned. No machinery was being operate. No voices could be heard.

All was still and quiet.

Eerily quiet.

Feeling the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end, you shuddered. You made eye contact with one of the men in front of you who had more expertise, and he looked on edge, eyebrows creased in focus under his balaclava. None of this felt right.

Suddenly, something small rolled over towards you all. Blinking once, twice, you let out a panicked scream and dived for cover.

"Grenade!"

All hell broke loose.

Bullets ricocheted over your head, guns blasting from so many directions you couldn't pinpoint their source.

Slowly recovering from your momentary shock, you gripped your rifle tight and started shooting back, hidden behind a load of wooden crates. When you saw your hooded colonel crouching in a corner, you relaxed. With an encouraging nod from him, that was all you needed to go change positions, and you lunged forward. All was going smoothly at that point.

So engrossed in eliminating the threats in front of him, however, König only came to the realisation that you weren't there when he didn't see your figure in his peripheral vision.

Panic consumed his senses and circulated through his veins. All at once, he was frantically scanning the immediate area, searching for any trace of you.

You were thrashing and kicking as you were being pulled by rough hands, your fingers reaching for your holster through gritted teeth, yet it was just out of grasp. You were thrown harshly against the wall, and the enemy towered over you, feeling high from his power trip and excited to exert authority he had never had up to now.

Just as a knife made its way to your throat, your hand finally found your side arm and shot a bullet between his eyes, body falling on top of you like a sack of potatoes.

You convulsed involuntarily, hyperventilating under his weight and the sudden situation. Noting your surroundings, your heart sank.

You were in no man's land, full view of soldiers shooting at your team. The extraction point was just in sight, exactly how and where it was illustrated on the blueprint.

So far, no one had noticed you, too preoccupied aiming down their sights to see you shuffling under a corpse. You could enter those headquarters right now, could be proclaimed a hero of this story, and make your colonel proud and finish before schedule.

The risk was too big. You were bound to get shot.

Yet, against all better judgement, you dashed for the entrance, taking advantage of the element of surprise as three men turned towards you with wide eyes, not expecting to see you enter. Two were haphazardly shoving papers into a half-open folder thrown on the table.

Three shots fired before they could scramble for a gun, you rushed towards the desk. Scanning the material, your eyes widened in shock. This was it.

Now, your only choice was to crawl back into the line of fire. Soldiers still kept shooting with their backs turned, endless ammunition right at their disposal.

You were totally helpless on your own. Just one pair of wandering eyes from the enemy and just one shot in the back of the head would be all that would take to end your life at that moment and make all of your efforts go to waste.

Although an atheist, you mouthed a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath, and sprinted.

Seeing sudden movement headed towards him, König acted on instinct, and pulled the trigger on you.

His heart stopped.

Time slowed as your body fell in slow motion, more bullets piercing through your gear.

Realising his mistake immediately, he almost vomited his own stomach out at seeing you fall lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide and body dropping on impact.

"Scheisse, cover me, verdammt!" He yelled over his shoulder, all rational thought ceasing.

Breathing rapid and strained, he rushed towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your body — growing weaker by the minute — and headed straight for the first sign of cover he could see. Behind unstable and temporary refuge that could be blown to pieces, König was at a loss at what to do.

He had expected everything, evaluated every possible scenario, every possible outcome, even prepared a lifeline for you on the off-chance that you'd be injured in action.

Yet he hadn't anticipated that he would be the one to shoot you. Never.

Shaking violently, König could barely get any words out. "—S-schatz, please please please—"

Hesistant hands hovered over your wounds, conflicted, as blood was staining your uniform, wrenching König's heart. His mind kept repeating you did this. You did this. You did this.

You needed urgent aid, and you needed it right now, yet he didn't deserve to touch you, his hands clenched into fists as he didn't want to break you further, treating you like fragile glass that could shatter into pieces under his touch if he so held you.

He was the one that did this to you. You, the young recruit he was so hopelessly infatuated with, a person who he had cherished and loved from afar, the person who made him feel good things for the first time ever in his life.

He did this to you.

He was the monster in your closet, the threat that König had desperately attempted protect you from all this time, the threat that you were told to eliminate on this mission. The enemy.

The enemy that had mistakenly shot you.

"Es tut mir so leid, I'm so sorry—" König's mind couldn't function properly, speaking in broken mix of English and German. He couldn't gather his thoughts, couldn't think.

"—I'm so so so sorry. Please don't die, bitte vergib mir, forgive me, forgive me, schatz. Forgive me. Ich liebe dich, schatz, do you hear me? I love you."

Bullets whizzed past you both relentlessly, both of you still caught in crossfire. König's lips were moving yet you couldn't hear what he was saying to you, couldn't feel anything as you slowly lost consciousness, slowly closed your eyes.

A calloused hand tapped your face in desperation, your vision blurred.

"—Nein, nein, King! Stay awake! I'm calling for the re-enforcements now! Please, don't die on me— I'm so sorry..."

Shaky yelling through the walkie-talkie, voice cracking. "This is your colonel, König! We're retreating right now! One of ours is wounded! Send the re-enforcements right now to this location! I repeat, we are retreating! I am calling this mission off!"

"What? Are you crazy, König?!" A break in character from the commander, before immediately assuming professionalism once more. "Proceed with the mission! You are on the verge of breaking their defenses! You will enter their headquarters and be able to—"

"Nein. That was an order, commander," he hissed through gritted teeth, nearly crushing the device in his death-grip. "We are retreating. I am calling this mission off."

A pause. Then: "Copy that, colonel. We are sending your re-enforcements to cover you as you exit. Your helicopter is waiting. Hold out for thirty seconds longer."

Sighing with relief, he suddenly thought his heart stopped beating when he saw you laying there motionlessly, eyes closed. Desperately tapping at your cheek did nothing to awaken you. He prayed that you'd survive, willing time to go faster.

At last, loud whirring from above gave him the only comfort. Not waiting a second longer, König picked up your limp body and dashed outside, the helicopter lifting off as the rest of the crew threw themselves inside.

Opening your vest to inspect your wounds, he saw a blood-soakes folder secured tightly to your chest.

It was the data. You risked your life for the mission. You risked everything to accomplish the task and he had shot you anyways.

"—This is your colonel, König. We have the data. Mission accomplished, I repeat, mission accomplished. King has the data."

The radio crackled with an indistinguishable response, yet König heard nothing, blood rushing to his head and ringing persisting. Medics wasted no time to wheel you into an operating room, tearing your limp body away from his arms. He avoided the celebrations and cheers for their colonel, leaving everyone dumbfounded at his reaction. Shouldn't have he been proud? The mission was a success!

Yet the mission wasn't a success, and if anything, he felt shame. No one knew why their colonel holed himself up in his room aside from himself.

The news of you in critical condition in the hospital broke König.

As much as he wanted to see you, to check on your health and be the one to see your first signs of recovery, he couldn't. He couldn't bear to witness the colour drained from your face as you laid unmoving on the bed, the slow beeping from the heart rate monitor machine the only indication that you were alive.

He just couldn't. Not when he caused this. Not when he fucked up this much.

Using the gym as a coping mechanism for a while, he trained harder and more often than ever before, only wishing to make the pain go away. When he wasn't at the gym all throughout the day or at odd hours of the night, he'd toss and turn in his bed, having nightmares about your body bleeding out below him as the shot relentlessly echoed in his head. Or worse, he'd imagine himself shooting you again, only this time he'd find the barrel of his gun was aimed at your forehead execution-style, your unassuming face suddenly exploding into bloody pieces and what was left of your bewildered expression still remained even after he had pulled the trigger.

At those, König would spring upright, screaming "No!" in anguish.

He'd be panting heavily, bedsheets drenched in his own sweat and feeling like he was suffocating with each rise and fall of his chest. When the situation sunk in, he'd clench his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, shaken to his very core. On those nights, König wanted nothing more than to hurt himself, to compensate for the injury he inflicted upon you and how he had completely disgraced you.

At one point, when he had finally had enough, in his blind craze snatched the pistol laying by his bed, flicked the safety off and aimed it at the same place he had shot you, just to break down in despair when no bullet came out, the clip hidden in his bedside drawer.

Hand tightly squeezing his heart through his soaked t-shirt, he was repulsed by the fact that he was completely healthy and could walk freely while you lay injured and dying.

Under his watch, you had been injured. Under him, your body had crumpled. And it was his fault.

In emotional turmoil, he soon lost all ability to function. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and could hardly find the motivation to get out of bed most of the time, convinced that he had killed you, convinced that he was a monster. Responsibilities were kept on hold, the next best person taking his place. No one questioned the new arrangement, despite the shared confusion from everyone on base.

He couldn't take this. He couldn't take this any longer. He would have rather died, sacrificed himself in any way possible if it meant that you could live another day, as you could make a greater impact on the world than he ever could. Could be a better person than he ever could.

It was his fault. He shot you. He had shot you. He had shot the recruit that he had hopelessly fallen in love with, yet only he himself was to blame for it for his lack of control, for his inability to be unaffected by his feelings.

One day, a knock on his door pulled him out from his trance.

Prior to the interruption, König was staring at the cement wall, his eyes unfocused, completely still and barely breathing. He wasn't himself.

Immediately straightening his legs and nearly tearing a tendon from how fast he got up despite having been so inactive for the last few days, he stomped quickly towards the door, his face glum yet eyes glinting with the merest hint of hope.

Hand reaching for the handle, he had readied himself, expecting bad news coming from a surgeon wearing a medical mask and a blue uniform, a solemn expression as they devasted him with your passing.

All but the latter was true.

"Colonel König, sir. The patient is awake. You may now visit them if you so wish."

Blinking a couple of times, König thought he had heard incorrectly.

"...P...Pardon?"

Repeated were the words that König was shocked to hear.

"King is awake, sir. Their condition is a stable one. Our team thought to notify you first since you were on the mission with them."

Gasping, König could barely breathe. He felt like he was drowning, drowning despite his head breaking out from the water. "What... I... where?"

"Ground floor, room twelve. They're on medication as of this moment yet are fully awake."

König nearly fell to his knees. You were alive!

You were alive! He hadn't killed you! He thanked the Gods, and could barely keep composed, barely able to stop himself from dashing to the center of base and yelling into the sky in pure joy.

"I— thank you... so much."

Running faster than he had ever ran in his whole life, he was at your door in minutes.

Yet, as his fingers reached for the door knob, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand poised mid-air.

What if you didn't want to see him after the whole ordeal?

What if you resented him, and would spit in his face the moment he walked in?

What if you hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him ever again?

Hesistantly knocking twice, he nearly had a heart attack when your voice broke through the door:

"Come in," you called simply; your voice was hoarse, but it was clearly still you.

Taking a deep breath, König pushed the door open.

There you were. He was having heart palpitations at seeing you awake and looking at him.

The light coming through the open curtains made your skin glow despite how pale you were, eyes sparkling and crinkling in happiness despite the dark circles and heavy bags under your eyes, hair splayed out behind on your pillow, resembling a halo, despite how greasy it was.

He had missed you. So much.

Then his heart sunk as he reminded himself that he was the reason for why you were here, why you were in in this state to begin with.

Seeing König, You shot him a daring smirk despite how numb your face felt. "Hey, König, sir. Did you visit me at all? I'm sure you missed me."

Waiting in anticipation, you kept looking at him excitedly. At the lack of response and his refusal to meet your gaze, it faded completely. "—Wh—what? You—"

"Not— not even once? Not—"

Tears were welling up in your eyes. "—you didn't come see me even one time?"

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. Maybe you should have thought that König would not have time to spare in his busy schedule.

Yet you couldn't not get your hopes up when as soon as you woke, your first thought was of König. Although the grim reality hit you hard like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, you still wished to see him.

And yet, he hadn't wished to see you at all. He had avoided you like the plague.

"Scheisse—"

König started pacing the room, head hung low as he weighed the pros and cons. Indecision.

"—Do you really... do you really want to know why I didn't visit you, King?"

You nodded meekly, lip quivering.

He finally made up his mind.

If you rejected him, at least he'd rest easier knowing that you'd live, and continue to be happy for you from afar. He'd still support you, still be your colonel, still love you even when you found someone else.

"I... I put you in this position, King... It was all my fault," he begun, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tone softed as he finally stopped, as still as a statue, a metre away. From this angle, you saw how bloodshot his eyes were, how they sagged in sadness, how dark circles had formed from lack of sleep. His pale blue eyes were dull, glued to the ground.

"Not only did I lose sight of you on the battlefield, I also shot you. Shot my own—" Pausing, not knowing how to refer to you.

He carried on. "I couldn't live with myself. I still can't live with myself. I'm walking, uninjured, as you are laying in bed, recovering from an injury that I am the reason for. From bullet wounds that were the result of me."

Voice hitching slightly, he tried to keep his breathing under control. But he couldn't.

"How could the monster that shot you enter your room and dare to look at you? How could I watch you cling to life, while I walk freely despite causing you this— this agony? What right do I have looking at you after putting you here?"

You allowed the tears to spill down your cheeks.

He stopped, eyelids drooping, finally meeting your eyes.

"I have feelings for you, King, I—" Trembling "—I do. But... I shouldn't be feeling this way. You have your whole life ahead of you and I—"

"—I've... aged... I'm not the same man I was before. I've witnessed things far too disturbing to ever share with you. I... I know that you should be with someone better and I—"

Although still in a daze and sedated by the drugs, your thought process was still clear enough where you could be sure about this.

Reaching with a tentative hand for König's larger and rougher one, you squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with a heartfelt expression.

König smiled for the first time in ages.

Through that gesture alone, König knew that you forgave him.

He allowed his breathing to stabilise, wanting nothing more than to start over with you.

...

Note: MY FAT FUCIIJF FINGERS SLIPPED AND I POSTED THIS EARLIER THANI WAS SUPPOSED TO OJ MY GOD I AM AN IDIOT 🤡🤡

Edit next day: how tmdid this fet 100+ notes im sobbing 😭😭. thabk you everyone for readijg this angst fest!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[forest-hashira]

2 Be Loved

this has sat in my drafts for... idk exactly how long, a month at least, because i was trying to decide if i even wanted to post it here. i wrote this for myself when i was Going Through It with my depression. now that i've sat on it a while, and i've generally been doing better, i've decided it's time to go ahead and share this. i hope you all enjoy it, and that it brings you some level of comfort or reassurance if you need it 💜

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.4k | cw: gender neutral reader, plus size reader, mental health issues (reader is in a depressive episode), emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end, really this is very self ship coded

You’d spent practically the whole day in bed. And the day before that, and the day before that, and probably the day before that, too. You’d lost count, honestly; all the days bleeding together and blurring in the fog of your mind. 

This was far from the first time this had happened, and you knew it would also be far from the last. Your emotional state had been a rollercoaster for most of your life, and had only become more volatile in the last few years. You would be fine, until you suddenly realized you were decidedly not fine, with some realizations being more gentle than others.

Like this time, for example. You hadn’t suddenly buckled under the weight of the world, but instead had woken up one morning and felt paralyzed; even just the idea of getting out of bed, for any reason, felt insurmountable. So you simply… didn’t. You stayed in bed and slept between episodes of your favorite TV show, grasping for anything that might stop you from sinking further into the depths of your depression. 

Satoru had been as patient as ever, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispering a little “I love you,” before he’d left for work. He knew you struggled this way sometimes, and had never been anything but supportive and loving. Suguru had called in “sick”, opting to spend the day taking care of you, which mostly consisted of slipping in and out of sleep all day and occasionally bringing a snack from the kitchen. Satoru had joined you back in bed as soon as he got home from work, effectively squishing you between himself and Suguru, where you were helpless to do anything but let them love you.

It had reduced you to tears, shoulders shaking as ugly, half choked sobs tore themselves from your chest. They had let you cry, not rushing to try and quiet you as they might have done when they were younger; they let you get it out of your system, only stepping in to comfort you when you started to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” you’d cried, eyes shut tight as you tried to avoid their gaze. “I’m sorry I’m…” you’d struggled for words then, losing them between your hiccuping sobs and the darkness that clouded your mind. 

“I’m too much,” you’d come up with eventually. “My emotions are too messy, and my mind doesn’t work right… I feel like all I do is cause problems for both of you. Like all I do is hold you back and drag you down.”

You hadn’t seen the look they’d exchanged, the pain that pinched their features, but you had felt the way they pressed in closer, as if they could crush the depression out of you. 

“You are not too much,” Satoru had murmured, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his cerulean eyes sparkling in the low light from the lamp on your bedside table. “You could never be too much, not to me – to us.” His thumb brushed lightly along your cheekbone, delicately wiping the tears from your skin even as they were replaced with more. “We love you so much, y’know? I love you so much. Taking care of you is not a chore, or a burden.”

You’d shaken your head, unable to believe his words. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“But we do,” Suguru had been the one to speak that time. “You mean it when you tell me the same thing when I’m depressed, right?”

“Of course I do.” There wasn’t any hesitation as the words left your lips. “Taking care of you is a privilege.”

“Then why can’t you believe we feel the same way about taking care of you?”

His words had left you reeling, so much so that you almost didn’t hear Suguru when he continued. 

“Satoru’s right, angel. I love you. We adore you, and we want to take care of you. Always.”

As Suguru had hugged you tighter with one arm and pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, he’d placed his other hand on your white haired lover’s hip, keeping him as close as possible. Satoru had been eager to oblige, snuggling into you as much as possible. He’d brushed your hair from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead, one hand cradling your face while the other reached across you to settle on Suguru’s hip. They had effectively caged you in, both with their bodies and with their love. It had shattered you, reduced you to tears again, but they hadn’t minded; they were there to hold you together, to pick up the pieces when you couldn’t do it alone. 

Through some unspoken agreement, your boys switched places the next day; Suguru had gone into work while Satoru had called out “sick” to take care of you. They did their best not to leave you alone for too long whenever they could help it, but they could only get away with calling out sick when everyone knew the two of them were perfectly healthy; when the higher ups knew that you were the one keeping the two special grades and teachers from fully doing their jobs.

A few days passed with your lovers taking turns staying home with you, until one day they both called out to stay home, though you didn’t realize that at first, since Suguru was quick to return to you in bed, holding you close as you drifted off again, faintly away of the sound of the front door closing and locking before you were fully asleep. 

When you woke up again, the first thing you were aware of was the fact that you were alone in bed. At almost the same moment, though, you heard music coming from what you guessed what the kitchen, though you couldn’t quite tell, since the bedroom door was shut; wherever it was coming from, it was definitely upbeat pop music, so you knew for certain Satoru was the one who had turned it on.

With no small amount of effort, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes for a moment and yawning before you crawled off the bed on Satoru’s side. You shuffled over to the dresser then, opening drawers and grabbing clothes pretty much at random. You wound up in a black sweatshirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants, both of which were at least two sizes too big for you, which even your fuzzy brain knew meant they weren’t actually your clothes; they belonged to your two giants of lovers.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the nightstand, grabbing one of Suguru’s hair ties to pull your hair out of your face with, and, after a deep breath, you decided to brave the kitchen.

Opening the door to the bedroom allowed you to fully hear the music that was playing, and you were a little surprised to realize it was in English, rather than Japanese. Satoru liked to listen to anything that was happy and upbeat enough, but he – understandably – had a bit of a preference for J pop music. 

Still a little surprised by the music choice and a little foggy from sleep, you make your way to the kitchen in a bit of a daze. Both Satoru and Suguru were in the kitchen: Suguru at the counter, mixing something in the stand mixer, while Satoru danced around to the music, occasionally trying to steal a bit of whatever Suguru had in the mixing bowl, and being effectively swatted away every time. You stood in the doorway for a few moments in silence, just watching them in utter adoration.

Eventually, though, Satoru noticed you, and he got a bright grin on his face as he raced over to you. “You got out of bed!” he gushed, wrapping you up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, mochi,” he murmured against your scalp, and something about the nickname in combination with the praise made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle right then and there. 

Just as suddenly as he had engulfed you in a hug, the white haired sorcerer was releasing you, lunging for where he’d left his phone on the counter by the bluetooth speaker he was using for the music. You watched curiously as he opened his playlist, hastily skipping through a handful of songs before he got to the one he was apparently looking for. Seeming pleased with himself, he made sure the song was playing, turned the volume up a little bit, then turned back to you with that sparkling grin of his. 

You blinked in surprise when you heard the singer’s voice, and you looked up at him with a look of complete bafflement. “I didn’t know you listened to Lizzo.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “No, baby, you gotta listen to the lyrics!” he insisted, taking your hands and doing a very small little dance with you right there in the doorway. 

Though part of you wanted to argue, you had never been good at resisting your energetic lover, and this time was no exception. Before you even nodded, Satoru already knew you’d given in to him, and he pulled you a bit closer to himself as he started singing along with the lyrics. And not quietly, either: he sang them with all the enthusiasm in his body, and though you hated to admit it, it was contagious, even in your depressed state.

By the end of the first verse, you were smiling, a small laugh escaping you at your lover’s almost puppyish behavior. When the chorus came around, you started singing along as well, and you noticed belatedly that Satoru was singing the lines of the background singers, rather than the main chorus, like you were. 

“Am I ready?”

“You deserve it now.”

“‘Cause I want it!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Am I ready?”

“You gon’ figure it out.”

“To be loved, to be loved.”

Your singing faltered then, and you stared up at Satoru for a moment, suddenly realizing why he’d picked this song to serenade you with. He stopped singing as well, smiling gently down at you as he watched you fit the puzzle pieces together in your mind.

“We’ve always been ready to love you.”

The sound of Suguru’s voice from behind you caused you to startle a bit, but you looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Are you ready to let us love you again?” His tone held no resentment, no bitterness, only gentle adoration, and you were certain that if Satoru didn’t still have a solid grip on your hands, you would have sunk to your knees with the overwhelming realization of how much these two men adored you, despite how much your mind sometimes tried to convince you they shouldn’t.

Unable to find your voice, you nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment as Suguru leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but just a few seconds later, Satoru was tugging you back into his space, spinning you around so your back was to his chest. The song was still playing and he was apparently still determined to get you to dance with him.

Suguru laughed softly at his lover’s antics, shaking his head slightly at Satoru and offering you a slight shrug when you looked up at him for some sort of explanation.

Now the subject of Satoru’s whims, you allowed him to dance around the kitchen with you in his arms, still singing along with the song, though now his volume was lower, as he sang the words down at you. You smiled, allowing yourself to get lost in the warmth of his love, even if his fingers were cold where they wrapped around your own. 

“He call me Melly, he squeeze my belly.”

Your eyes flew open as Satoru sang the words, his chilly hands coming down to squeeze at the soft flesh of your stomach, the touch pulling a rather undignified squeak from your lips, but he just continued to beam down at you. He wasn’t going along with the lyrics of the song to make fun of you – he’d expressed to you enough times that he adored the soft pudginess of your body for you to know he meant it – but it still surprised every time he made sure to pay special attention to the squishier parts of you.

The sound of your squeak pulled another laugh from Suguru, and though at first you were planning to glare at him, you couldn’t go through with it; not when his expression was full of so much love and relief. He crossed the kitchen to reach you again, whatever was in the mixer long forgotten in favor of you. When he reached out for you, going to him was easier than breathing. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as he swayed around the kitchen with you. The movement didn’t match the energy of the song at all, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were safe and secure in his arms, and Satoru had enough energy for all three of you; it was impossible not to watch him as he danced around the kitchen, white hair and blue eyes shining, and he flashed you that brilliant grin of his every time he caught your gaze. 

Things weren’t suddenly perfect; Lizzo and dancing in the kitchen was not a magical fix-it for the irregularities in your emotional state, but it was certainly a stepping stone back to your normal. And you knew, without any doubt in your mind, that you would have the support and full confidence of your lovers behind you every step of the way. They were your way back to yourself, after all. Suguru was your anchor in stormy seas, tethering you to something real, something sturdy; Satoru was the lighthouse calling you home when the waters calmed enough for you to move again.

i hope you guys have enjoyed seeing some of my other stuff i hadn't yet shared here! though i can't promise when i'll have anything new, know that i am working on things now + am preparing things for my upcoming milestone event!!! take care of yourselves as best you can 💜. divider by cafekitsune

tagging: @kentohours @mitsuristoleme @marinnnnnnnnn @witchbybirth @peachdues

[mundoperla]

❝𝙒𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚?❞

DBD Killers x Gender Neutral S/O

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

— yall are literally just fuckin in the basement ain’t nun else to say

idk about yall but im in love with the reworked basement 💃 Vittorio mains y’all give me mixed feelings.

·:*¨༺ ★ ༻¨*:·. ★ ༻¨*:·. ★ ༻¨*:·.

— killer(s) included;; frank morrison, albert wesker my babygirl, & evan macmillan

⚠️⚠️cws;; some very slight possessive behavior from all of them, general nsfw, the use of the word “whore” from frank, Frank does in fact nut in you, some dub-con for weskypoo😩, kind of rough sex???, established relationships⚠️⚠️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Frank was already very spontaneous so having quickies in random spots isn’t below the two of you. He could care less about the other survivors, what’s important is trying to find a new spot the fuck you in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The main building? thats been done before. Inside the asylum? also done. Even out in the open barely covered by the trees, he’s doing his best trying to think of a new spot to make this alot more special.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❛How about the basement?❜ He thought, maybe you’d be down for that? Definitely wouldn’t be the strangest place you’d fuck in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You were iffy at first to say the least, but you could tell he was eager to find a new spot for the two of you. So you followed him, through the shack and down the rustic stairs all the way down to the eerie basement.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The air was thick and the humidity wasn’t helping either, although it was eliciting you to take off your clothes alot quicker.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ There was so much space surrounding the four conjoined hooks in the center as well as walls that hid the lockers well. You could have chosen to go behind one in case someone came in but where was the fun in that?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He wasn’t apposed to fucking you in front of other people, it was definitely something he had considered doing many times to show that you were his—but of course that would stay in his back pocket for another time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Frank is immediately tossing his jacket to the side with his shirt following after, pulling his mask to the side so he could properly kiss you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His movements were sporadic, trying to get you out of your own clothes while attempting to kiss you and remove his pants all at once. He just wants to feel your soft skin on his, he wants to see you unravel for him again like you have numerous times.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It felt so dirty knowing that he was going to fuck you in a place where numerous people had met their horrible fate, no doubt a few that were strung on these very hooks by your boyfriend and his friends, yet it was also exiting in the sense of you being aware you would come out completely unharmed but fully fucked out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s gripping your hips tight, visible indents lay where his fingers had been seconds prior. Frank had your back pushed up against one of the flat surfaces of the hook’s pillar, the two of you sat onto the blood coated floor as the last remaining articles of clothing were now discarded.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You were grinding against his now exposed cock, whimpering due to the friction and occasionally looking down where the two of you connected and then back up to his face. He knew what you were doing, and he wasn’t going to let you have control for long.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❝ Do you see how wet you are for me ? I haven’t even put it in yet and you’re whining for it like a whore. ❞

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your legs are quickly tossed over his shoulders, Frank now aligning himself with your entrance. The initial stretch always stings for a moment but no longer than such, he was always careful in the beginning just for you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your insides are so warm. You don’t fully understand how he wishes to keep you to himself, away from everyone, just for it to be you and him together by yourselves. The idea of other killers and survivors being near you sets him off in a way that irritated him, he’d gone on multiple tangents to other killers and threatened other survivors to keep away from his partner; your fellow survivors sure did catch the hint…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ None of the other killers paid you any mind however, only obligated to quickly dispose of you without any type of off track interaction so that Frank wouldn’t berate them afterwards. His yelling gets tiring after a while, who on earth wants to hear that???

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Anyways. His thrusts begin slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth whilst also providing a good amount of friction for the two of you. He’s ready to stop the second you ask, but instead he gets your signal to go a bit faster. Of course this smug motherfucker will bury himself all the way inside and get you to tell him what exactly you want him to do in detail just to further rile you up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ❝ I need you to stop being such a bitch and fuck me until I can barely think straight. ❞

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your body is heating up with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, he’s seen you in more exposed positions anyways but it always feels so lewd when he’s got you on full display for him. Him scanning your entire body with his eyes wasn’t easing your embarrassment either.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His speed rapidly picks up though, a lot faster than what you had initially expected but then again it’s Frank, he’s not wasting any time to drill into you when given an opportunity.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The metal platform that held the hooks up in place rattled every time Frank rammed inside of you, his hands making their way back to your hips away from their original place from behind your knees.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What was supposed to be a horrific room where many feared to even step foot in outside of chases, where numerous lives were lost in, an extension of this realm of horrors was completely flipped in the span of 15 or so minutes. The air was filled with more humidity than before accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin rapidly. Do the two of you have no decorum ?!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The idea of going back up to the surface afterwards to leave with your team no longer felt ideal to you, the entity could impale you here because you were fuckin in her damn basement for all you cared, you just wanted to stay here with Frank so this feeling of bliss never ended.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your abdomen felt tight, sensitivity is at it’s highest than ever. Frank had the same tight coil in his belly, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was just as close as you by the way his pace picked up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Inside, inside please. You silently begged, you wanted to feel that familiar warmth inside you again, thats what you wanted the most right now. Of course Frank wasn’t going to deny you the satisfaction of him filling you, he wanted to see it drip out anyways.

𝕬𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖙 𝖂𝖊𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖗—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Like Frank, he was not opposed to fucking you in front of your friends to assert dominance. But because he didn’t like the idea of others seeing you in a provocative position he had refrained from acting on that thought.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’d been gifted a new outfit by The Entity and Wesker was just as excited as you to see how it looked. Of course he wont show you that excitement on the surface but on the inside he’s in love with how you look in it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What if he just ripped it off of you. It’s a pretty outfit but what’s underneath is also very beautiful. However there’s survivors to be dealt with, he needs to remove unnecessary distractions before he even acts out. It wouldn’t take him long to do so anyways.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Jesus Christ. The game just started and your team is immediately wiped, you were aware that Wesker always let you leave when the two of you were put in matches together, but right now he intended to keep you here longer than usual.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s wasting no time by tossing you over his shoulder to drag you down to the rustic basement behind the saloon, tossing you back down onto the metal platform with a loud clank. Quickly tearing up your top and bottoms with ease. He needs to be inside you, away from the crows so the entity couldn’t see you. Even she doesn’t deserve the privilege to watch you crumble under him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s removing his sunglasses so he can get a better look at you, cat like pupils dilated at your shredded clothing that clung onto the smallest threads for dear life. He’s palming himself through the leather of his pants, trench coat discarded to the side. Wesker didn’t need to be vocal when he wanted you, his body language tells you enough.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re slowly removing the last pieces of clothing left on your lower half, spreading your legs open and rubbing yourself so your boyfriend could get a clear view of the effect he had on you. No doubt that feeling is reciprocated the way his cock springs out of his pants, precum dribbling from the slit of the head.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Uroboros could be used for more than ruthless slaughter and power, so of course he was careful letting the tendrils wrap around your neck and torso as to not harm you. He wants you in the air, and he wasn’t going to throw you on a rusty hook for it so he settled for the alternative that wouldn’t hurt you. As long as he was careful though.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His free hand is gliding along your body, making occasional stops to squeeze your chest or to press down on spots that would elicit different sounds from you. Such a pretty voice, let him hear more of you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s getting hotter the longer he continued to toy with you, he needed to feel you wrap around him now.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He won’t break eye contact with you as he slides in, he expects you to look back at him when the two of you are fucking in this position. It doesn’t matter to him if you’ve adjusted to his size or not, he just needs to feel you, to hear you. Nothing could ever feel better than you squeezing around him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your throat felt sore with how much you were screaming for him, he was being rough with you, the tendrils of uroboros around your neck occasionally squeezing a bit tighter than before with the extras on your torso dragging you up and down on Wesker’s cock like you were some fleshlight.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You weren’t complaining though, it’d be a bit painful trying to stand up afterwards but the pain would be so worth it. Having him fuck you felt like a luxury, despite him always manhandling you; it was always a wonderful experience. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what buttons to push to get you more and more heated.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re cumming all over him, and all for him. He didn’t give you permission to do as such, he should punish you for acting without asking first. But he’s feeling nice today, he won’t get on your case for it this time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His stamina is insane, you’d lost count how many times you’ve came from him alone, and he’d only came once. He’s purposely denying himself his own orgasms, just to see how long he can suppress them until he eventually snaps. He’ll keep doing this unless you ask him not to, or if you tell him to fill you until he’s got nothing left. He won’t listen if you ask him the first question.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s got you to himself down here for as long as the two of you want, nothing wrong with some endurance testing.

𝕰𝖛𝖆𝖓 𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖗

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ There’s traps littering the entire shack and entrance to the basement, Evan is paranoid that someone could come in at any moment and he wasn’t taking any risks.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Nobody is allowed to see you right now, he’s tired of sharing your attention with others and he wants you to himself right now. Let him be greedy just this once.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The two of you are hiding behind one of the walls, despite Evan being quite large it could still hide him too.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your back is pressed against his chest, one of his large arms is wrapped around your waist whilst his free arm snakes its way down into your pants. Your mouths intertwined with eachother, muffling moans from one another so that nobody passing by could hear.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ His heart is racing and his cheeks are flushed a deep crimson that the mask thankfully covered. Even in this realm he’s too prideful, he can live with the fact that he’d give you the best fucking of your life but not with the idea of you realizing you could get him so flustered.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your ass is pressed against him now, he could get straight to it now but he just wants to hold you just a bit longer. His touches are so soft yet very powerful, he knows where and what he needs to feel to get you to fully submit to him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re trembling under him, he can feel it. Pulling away just as you were about to release, you visibly distraught by the loss of friction. However humidity greets you just as Evan pulls your pants down just enough where he can put himself inside you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Although he’s much.. bigger than average, both in length and girth, he’ll move as slowly as possible so he won’t hurt you. Always a gentleman regardless, but despite his best efforts to be gentle with you there’s always a stinging feeling when he slides in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s patient with you, it always takes you a bit to fully adjust to his size before he can start moving but he’s respectful still. You take him so well every time, so of course he’s going to be sweet with you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’ve given him the okay to move, and if course he starts off very slowly, still cautious as to not harm you in any way despite your reassurance that you’re fine. Your back is facing his chest now, your hands on the rickety wall for some kind of support. Evan’s hands grip tightly onto your hips, his teeth gritted together as he groveled in your warmth.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It’s harder not not make any sound when he starts speeding up ever so slightly, now hunched over you with his breath hot on the back of your neck. His hands don’t leave your hips ever, he keeps them there so he can slam you down onto him harder when he wants to let his hips rest before he continues thrusting.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He still can’t get over how warm you are, it baffles him every time the two of your are intimate. He’d keep you this close to him forever if he could, you were important to him, very important.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’s fully sped up now, slamming you down on his cock with anticipation. He’s close and he can feel that you are too. You had reached behind you to drag one of his arms to wrap around your waist again, gently caressing the scars that littered his forearms as he continued to rut into you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You always made him feel so loved, he wasn’t the man he used to be before he arrived in The Entity’s realm yet that didn’t seem to phase you in the slightest, that’s one of the many things he adored about you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You’re making a mess around him now, coating his pelvis in your juices as well as having some of it drip onto the floor.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’ll ask you to turn around and open your mouth so he can finish too, to which you happily obliged. The two of you will sit in your spots for a moment to catch your breath, Evan bouncing back quicker than you to check for any external damage just in case, as well as asking you repeatedly if you’re really okay.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You gather yourself together while your boyfriend removes the traps around the building, you didn’t want to leave, but you had to. Of course Evan didn’t want you to leave either, but he had promised he’ll meet you in the woods that separate the killer and survivor camps.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Maybe the two of your could start up another moment of intimacy extended from the basement.

˚ ₊ ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊ ✧ ﾟ ₊ ˚

—

—

do not point out my spelling mistakes and grammatical errors i will cry at you

ALSO IM SI FUCKIGN TIRED I STARTED THIS AT LIKE 5 IN THE MORNING ANF I JUST FINISH AT 8 I AM EXHAUSTED

[kamii-2]

“you thought wrong”

so sorry for not posting a chapter in almost 2 months but i hope you guys enjoy this long-ish chapter! a part of this chapter is based off of a fanfic i read a while ago, im not sure who wrote it or who the fic was about but if i ever find out who it is i will definitely give them a shoutout type thing. i’d also like to say this chapter is where things start to like really happen (idk how else to word it, hopefully you get what im saying) and im very sorry if the beginning of the sorry is confusing in any way, also act like they’re all old enough to drink.

warning(s): cussing, drinking, kissing

genre: fluff

pairing(s): kk arnold x reader

“you thought wrong” masterlist

==================================

chapter 3: “is this some kind of prank?”

==================================

the moment you accidentally opened the door then shut it, kk pulled away from the girl she was making out with and ran to ice, not telling the other girl what was going on. “ice, i think i messed up any chances i had with y/n. she just walked in on me making out with another girl.” kk told her best friend, trying to catch her breath from running down the flight of stairs. “why would you even make out with someone else if you wanted her so bad? are you actually stupid?” ice was mad that kk would even do something like that, wanting a girl then making out with another, it made no sense. “i haven’t done anything with anybody in a while and the girl offered so why not take up that offer?” kk said, half joking. kk thought about where you could’ve went, “she left second she came back down here.” ice said as she took a sip of her drink. “great.” was all kk said as she plopped down next to her best friend.

-

kk was all you could think about while you laid in bed, trying to sleep. after seeing her kissing another girl it made you realize how in love with her you were. you wished you were the one she was kissing, not some random girl at a house party who probably just wanted to use kk for sex. the image of her and the other girl kept replaying in your head again and again, you couldn’t take it anymore so you tried to watch tiktok to forget about kk and the stupid girl she was with. when you opened tiktok the first thing you seen was an edit of kk. “oh my God.” you said out loud as you got off the app and turned on your tv. you decided to just watch some netflix until you fell asleep.

when you woke up with a mild headache, you didn’t drink too much so your hang over wasn’t as bad as it usually was when you drank. you got up and took some medicine to ease the headache and drank water to help the pill go down your throat. you grabbed your phone and seen that symphony had texted you a few times asking if you were okay, you told her about how all you thought about was kk last night and how when you opened tiktok she was the first thing you seen. you two continued to text about what happened last night and other random things until symphony just randomly stopped texting you back for a good 20 minutes. you brushed it off and went on with your day, thinking she was busy or her phone died. in reality, symphony got a text from kk’s best friend, ice, on instagram.

-instagram direct messages-

@ice.brady: hey this is symphony right?

@symphony_roy: yea why?

@ice.bradyy: be honest, does y/n like kk bc kk likes her a lot and doesn’t believe me that y/n likes her back. @ice.bradyy: pls tell me i promise to not show kk like fr

@symphony_roy: yes 😭 ive been telling y/n since the day she told me that kk is gay and likes her back but her slow ass won’t believe me

@ice.brady: bro they act the same way exact same way 😭@ice.bradyy: anyway the reason im texting you is bc i think we should make them go in a blind date but don’t tell them the gender of the person bc i don’t want them to find out immediately

@symphony_roy: wait that’s a really good idea @symphony_roy: but we need to plan this more before we dive right into it

-real life-

after they planned out their entire plan, symphony went to your dorm. “hey.” you greeted as she barged in, using the spare key you had gave her. “so…. how do you feel about blind dates?” she asked while clasping her hands together, taking a seat on the couch next to you. “uhm, they’re okay i guess… why?” you reply while stopping what you were doing on your phone and side eyeing her. “because you’re going on one on monday.” symphony stated, “what?!?” you yelled while whipping your head to look at her, “i did not sign up for that!” symphony just stared at you, a small smirk on her face. “well, you’re going on it, i don’t care what you say.” symphony shrugged while getting up and leaving, “bye, remember you have a date in two days, i’ll send you the details later.” she closed the door.

-

when you woke up you seen kk had followed you back on every app you followed her on, seeing this made your stomach do backflips. you were a bit embarrassed because you had followed her for ages and she just now followed you back but you didn’t really care because atleast she followed you. as the day went on you kept stalking kk, being careful to not like any super old pictures on instagram or old tiktoks. you were stalking so hard you even found her mom’s facebook page. in the middle of your stalking, symphony barged in your room, “okay so what are you gonna wear tomorrow?” she asked while sitting at the edge of your bed, facing you. “i don’t know, probably jean shorts and a crop top.” you shrugged, “basic as hell. wear something more revealing, you gotta show off all that ass to them.” she half-joked, “bro then you find my outfit.” you sighed at her.

symphony went to your closet and started to look through everything to find the perfect outfit for you. after about 10 minutes she found a short, tight, light pink dress. you bought it last month and never got the chance to wear it. “it’s perfect, i’ll tell your date to wear something on the nicer side. you guys will look so cute together.” she smiled while holding the dress up. you were still unsure on the whole blind date thing but you were kind of excited for it, maybe you’ll meet your soulmate. you had thought about who it could be and you thought about it being kk but you weren’t sure if symphony would do something like that.

symphony stayed over for the rest of the day and didn’t go home until sunset. you two talked about life, ordered pizza, and watched a few movies sherrie she went back to her dorm. you were too nervous to go to bed, knowing that the next day at 7pm you would be meeting up with a potential complete stranger for dinner.

-

the whole day you were super nervous and could barely think straight. part of you was thinking about just not going but you know if you did that then symphony would rip you a new one. you were hoping the date was a girl and hoping it was kk but you knew it wasn’t gonna be her, kk was just making out with another girl 2 days ago, she wouldn’t switch that fast, or so you thought. at around 6:00 you started getting ready, putting on the dress and some white heels that made you an inch taller, and putting on light makeup. symphony showed up to your dorm at 6:34, “im taking you to the restaurant because im gonna sit a table or two away and watch yall.” she said with a huge smile on her face. you nodded in response and continued to get ready.

on the way there you were so nervous to where you thought you could throw up. the whole car ride you were silent and had short answers when symphony talked to you. “y/n its okay i promise. dont worry about anything. all you gotta do is meet this person, talk to them, eat dinner, then you’re done.” symphony reassured you, keeping her eyes on the road. you sighed and tried to think on the bright side of it, if you didn’t like this person then you’d probably never have to talk to them again. as you got closer you got more and more nervous but you kept thinking about what symphony said and it helped it go down.

when you two got to the restaurant you immediately got out and walked into the restaurant. symphony pointed, “your date’s already here.” you stopped dead in your tracks and whipped your head towards her. “is this some kind of prank?” you asked while wide eyes. “nope. your date is kk.” symphony laughed while pushing you towards the table. “symphony you’re fucking lying.” you said while trying to resist her pushing you. “i’m not, now go sit down and talk to her.” she said while pushing you again and walking away. you sighed before slowly walking over to the table that kk was at. when she looked up from her phone she paused for a second before she realized that you were her blind date. when you sat down it was quiet for a second before she said something. “hey y/n. how’s life been?” she said, not knowing what else to say. “it’s been fine, how about you?” you asked her, “good. did you know that i was your date?” kk asked with a smile. “no, symphony literally came into my dorm and told me that i was going on a blind date, didn’t tell me anything else.” you two laughed and continued to talk.

the night went very well, you two talked about everything under the sun and flirted a lot. symphony and ice were watching from a few tables over and talked about how cute you two were together. “i’m glad they made us go on this date.” you admitted while admiring kk, looking her up and down. “i agree, maybe i can get your number or something?” kk asked, “yea.” you say as you proceed to tell her your number. after she got your number the flirting was nonstop, now she was certain you liked her back. the rest of the night you two continued to talk about random stuff and even talked about going on another date.

at free you guys paid for the food snd drink you both went over to symphony and ice’s table. “hey guys.” ice said with a smirk, “do yall wanna go to a club or something?” symphony asked while standing up. “sure why not.” you said, “okay i’ll send you the address.” symphony said, talking to ice. ice nodded and you all went to the cars. “so how was it?” symphony questioned you the moment you both got in the car, “we were flirting the whole time and she asked for my number.” you answered, “aren’t you glad i made you go on this date?” she smiled while pulling out of the parking lot and driving to the bar, you nodded and told her more about the date.

after you got your ID’s checked, kk grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bathroom. “what’s wrong?” you asked when you reached a stall. “nothing.” she mumbled before kissing you, you immediately kiss back. the kiss felt magical, the way your lips fit together perfectly made your stomach do frontflips. you relunctsntly pulled away for air, “damn.” was all kk could say as she went back for more.

==================================

i’m so sorry this took like 2 months to get out but i still hope you enjoyed!! i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[nectardaddy]

aftermath - higuruma hiromi

cw: blood, death, homicide, manga spoilers (I mean, if you know who tf he is you're fine tbh), language

notes: established relationship, gender neutral, inspired by if I killed someone for you by alec benjamin (was gonna put the song in but I refuse to put the gigantic eyesore that tumblr auto gives me and idk how to fix it)

synopsis: how should one react when their lover shows up on their doorstep covered in blood?

part two

You didn't mean for your breath to hitch in your throat so violently, creating an audible gasp from the air that lodged itself. Your fingers gripping the edge of your opened door with a grasp so desperate your hand already began to ache. Nails digging into the hard wood as you tried to decipher the pressing image before you.

"Hiromi-" you choked out. Voice wavering as his presence alone was enough to make your knees buckle. Dark, unwavering eyes boring into you. Seemingly nothing within them but a glimmer of something primal, macabre, and- desperate. You weren't a stranger to the unyielding looks, always transfixed on something well beyond his reach, but this was different. A look of a monster, and his attire following suit.

He was usually a well dressed, dapper man. But as he stood upon your doorstep, your opinion flipped instantaneously. A ruffled, crumbled suit jacket littered with dark blotches around the cuff, his white shirt underneath being the tell tale sign of what the mysterious blots were. A stark contrast, red on white, staining the previously ironed shirt right down to the threads. Cheeks splattered with the same red, a large spill just under his eye, like he had tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe his face. "What have you done?" You whispered, speaking softly as if it would untangle you from seeing him so heinous.

"Can I come in?" A gruff, almost uncaring, voice in comparison to your own. You didn't know why you hurriedly nodded, why you shifted out of the way for him to enter your home, why you thought letting this man back into your home was a good idea. It was against your better judgment, but you wracked your brain about the thought of 'there has to be a good reason.' This was the man you loved after all, not a cold hearted killer, or so you came to believe.

Hearing the door click shut and the lock engage, his eyes scanned his surroundings before returning to you. Tired eyes once again looking into you, almost trying to see through you with the intensity of it. "I killed them," he said bluntly, without regard and without further context. His words made your shoulders slump, your body creating shivers as his words hit you so profoundly.

"Who?" Was all you managed to ask, the word escaping your lips so quietly you hoped he would be able to hear it at all. Not asking why, not asking where or when. Who.

"The retrial was today," he said simply. It was all you needed, an impactful statement to which your eyes widened and your mouth opened. Quickly shutting it as no words were found on the tip of your tongue, your throat suddenly dry at the revelation, you could only stare. Looking over him to find any sort of answer, your eyes stopping at the collar of his suit jacket. There once was a small sunflower pin on the lapel, one you had gifted him years ago to replace the former. It was gone. It came off. Could the man you love really be so violent? So much so his beloved pin was ripped from him in the heat of the moment?

You couldn't say what had possessed you to step closer to the man, your lover, the murderer. Each step becoming easier as you neared him, stopping just before him and looking up. So close you could smell the gruesome, irony twinge mingling with the scent of his cologne. It made you nauseous, wanting nothing more than to spill your guts right then and there. But you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look upon the man who had sworn he'd love you to the end of his days. "Are you alright?"

A man of his situation might have said no, should have said no. "I've never felt better," he answered honestly. Looking down at you with a ghost of a smile, a mind fraying image now engraved in your psyche. Your fingers reached for his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath as your hands came in contact with him. It was damp.

"Oh my god," you spoke, forcing yourself to close your eyes at the sensation. You feared to lift your hands to what you would see on your palms, subconsciously pushing down the thoughts to the deepest part of your mind. "Oh my fucking god," you repeated, unable to form a single coherent thought as you couldn't stop yourself from circling back to the feeling.

But the hand, drenched in the same crimson, that gently touched your cheek made your eyes snap open and you inhaled sharply. There was blood on his hands, staining his fingers in sin so much so it was under his nails. That blood was now on you, ripping your stomach right out of your body as you wanted to heave. Desperately searching his features for any sort of answer, but only coming to the same conclusion.

The man you loved killed two people - and liked it.

oh I'm definitely making a part 2 are you kidding??? I wrote this shit in an hour that's a new fucking record for me

[star-centric]

Okay I have a mean request :)) So hear me out: something happens to MC (maybe they get attacked by another demon or smth idk) and it ends up causing Belphie to start getting nightmares about lesson 16 of the original game. Now, normally, if he has bad dreams, he'd go to MC for comfort, but he doesn't exactly want to make MC comfort him for him having hurt them, so he tries to keep it to himself. How it ends is up to you.

Got in the mood to write and I love this idea!! Reader is gender neutral!!

CW: mention of violence/injuries (but nothing gory/graphic), spoilers for lesson 16 in the first game

It’s rare for Belphie to not get any sleep. Borderline impossible even.

But yet he finds himself standing outside your door, late into the night. He’s sure that everyone else is sleep- he can’t even hear Lucifer’s cursed record echoing in the halls.

Belphie wants to open the door, but as his hand inches towards the handle, he pulls it back to his side. He wants to open it, crawl by your side to have your own heartbeat lull him to sleep like he’s so used too. But he can’t do it. He wants to see you so bad, but he forces himself not to.

He doesn’t know how he’ll react to seeing those marks on your skin.

Despite it happening weeks ago, your injuries remain fresh in his mind. The bandages that his brothers had to wrap you made his heart drop, and the claw marks that were left around your neck made him want to hurl. It was hard for all of them to see you hurt, but Belphie especially couldn’t handle seeing you like this.

Because it reminded him too much of what he did to you.

Sometimes he can still see your lifeless body when he closes his eyes. He still gets nightmares to this very day over it, his own malicious laugh haunting him.

His throat tightens at the thought of it, but he forced himself to swallow away his tears, his dread- how can he cry when he’s the one who killed you? When he was the monster? He doesn’t have a right to he feels, so he just bottles up his guilt and hatred for himself. Like he’s doing now, except he’s barely holding on.

Belphie is on the brink of falling apart when he takes a step back, repeating that he doesn’t deserve your comfort, your touch, anything from you- but his breath catches when the door cracks open. He’s frozen as you stand there, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You become a little startled when you become aware of him, voice still filled with sleep.

“Belphie? What’s wrong?”

The collar on your shirt droops a little, and he can see some of the claw marks on your neck peeking out underneath it.

Anything that Belphie had planned to say immediately dies on his tongue.

He feels your fingers gently grasp his cheek. He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until your thumb wipes away a tear, eyes full of concern and brows furrowed in worry.

How can you still look at him after what he did to you? How can you still show him love?

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve you and he knows it.

Belphie can’t stop the tears rolling down his face no matter how hard he tries. He finds himself on his knees, trying to control his sobs but failing. He wants to apologize, beg for forgiveness, but all of his words are spilling out jumbled together. All of his bottled up emotions rise to the top, unable to be contained anymore. He’s pathetic he thinks, but all he can do is wail as you slump down to the floor, taking him in your arms.

It only makes him sob more when he feels your warmth, your arms bringing him in closer.

Time becomes a blur for Belphie, and he finds himself in his usual spot by you in your bed. He wants to feel embarrassed, ashamed of acting so childish- but he just sinks into your side as your fingers lightly comb his hair. He hears your heartbeat in his ears, lulling him into a much needed slumber. He also hears your gentle tone- even if he can’t make out the words, it brings him a sense of peace that he’s been missing for far too long.

He may never forgive himself for both what he did and failing to protect you- but he will find a way to atone for his actions, from now until the end of time.

Belphie finds it easier to sleep for the first time in a while.