#prompt: timeless love
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rearranging-deck-chairs · 2 years ago
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"in a completely predictable twist of fate literally everyone saw coming, youve put yourself in danger again. this is great. i love when you put yourself in danger it doesnt make me insane in the head at all. i wish you would stop doing this. i know youre not gonna. so im just gonna do whatever i can that will make you get yourself, and also us i guess, out of danger again"
#i love yaz#i feel like this is basically a permanent state she lives in from revolution onward#maybe it already was before that but i think timeless children+revolution made the doctor a lot more fragile to her#like how easily she actually might just die and how it would very easily just kinda be by her own hand like#kinda sunk in i think#maybe yazs situation is less 'i can fix her' and more 'i can save her from herself'#and she Can#probably#but damn its like a 24/7 kinda job that#'i cant keep doing this with you' no i can imagine girlie do you sleep#do you knock her out wiht sedatives so you can sleep fghkjghjk#minkowski style#i also love when yaz prompts her. i dont actually know if she does it more than like ryan or graham but it feels like she does it#relatively a lot#and i like it#third thing i love is taking the tiniest canon things and blowing them up to really not canon anymore proportions and playing with that#like what if 13s depressive/hopeless streak+immense pressure she puts on herself re: saving people turns into this like#drop of a hat type shutdowns whenever theres a thing she doesnt immediately have a solution for#and its not like shes incapable of generating ideas right obviously#but i Can imagine - with her....state of mind - that sometimes it can take like half a second longer for her brain to actually start genera#ing those ideas#and so for that half a second shes basically like a rat swimming in a bucket and just Stops#and yaz has to be like hey yo dont forget you exist. keep moving#and then she keeps moving again and shes fine#well not fine but like. moving#i think abt yaz innnnnn resolution when shes like 'doctor i dont like it when you go quiet'#and how in spyfall is the first time she goes still etc#i think its so jarring when 13 goes still and quiet like its basically the cloister bell ringing its a clear sign smth is Wrong#and i think her options are either That or like. frantic inhuman need to move. like its Move or Not Move and neithe ris great but MOve feel#slightly less bad
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queerspren · 1 month ago
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Thinking about how Shadowheart is so thirsty, y'know? She flirts with Karlach and Wyll, pines after Shar, has an incredibly homoerotic dynamic with Lae'zel, dreams about Halsin, and, if prompted, is enthusiastically polyamarous.
All of this is all well and good from a horny standpoint, but I think it also illustrates something important about Shadowheart's personality: No matter how prickly she tries to present herself, she's a lover at her core.
She loves life, even when she attempts to mask this love behind cold violence. She loves cute animals and pretty flowers. She loves her parents, even as she struggles to remember them. She loves her goddess (In her own, fucked up way). She loves trashy romance chapbooks and good wine. She loves her friends, even when they annoy her. She loves herself, after a fashion, and loves her body, loves other people's bodies. Even before fully abandoning Shar, as a partner she's caring, affectionate, even a little girlish and goofy behind the veneer of brooding mysteries.
And these things manifest even after being raised in Shar's cloister, after several decades of trauma and memory wipes. So strong is Shadowheart's love that Viconia literally has to erase her multiple times to build a colder, more callous acolyte. So strong is her love that even when mind wiped and personally guided by the hand of the Lady of Sorrows, she still harbors doubts about the thing that tells her to abandon her love.
It's the love of and for her companions, and the gnawing feeling of absence where her she knows her other loves should be, that ultimately leads her away from Shar. Her first priority after enduring timeless torments in the Shadowfell is affirming her love to a romanced player character. If her parents survive, she abandons what would have almost certainly been a life of fame, fortune, and power to care for them on a cozy farmstead, surrounding herself with the things and people that she loves. And if it comes up, she sees any proposed nonmonogamy not as an indictment of her partner's loyalty or their bond with her, but as a chance for them to spread and share and revel in the love that she holds so dear.
It's no wonder Viconia and Shar were so desperate to control her, to turn her away from Selûne. This is a woman whose love burns so brightly that even the goddess of darkness and loss failed to snuff out her light.
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worldofsaia · 20 days ago
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SAIA'S GAME ; general !
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here's a curt assemblage of questions for your dr life, reality, and existence. use it for yourself, or ask me something via sending an ask with the corresponding emoji / prompt + a reality.
✶ my drs... ;
¹ ˙𖦹 *∴ THE WORLD
⊹ 🏙️ HOME SWEET HOME — ✶ what does your home look like in your dr?
⊹ ⏳ TIME TRAVELER — ✶ what’s the time period or era of your dr? is it different from your cr?
⊹ 🔮 PROPHECY — ✶ do you have a special role or purpose in your dr world?
⊹ ⏰ MORNING ROUTINE — ✶ what’s the first thing you do when you wake up in your dr?
⊹ 🍽️ BON APPÉTIT — ✶ what’s a typical meal in your dr country/locale? what’s your favorite food there?
⊹ 🛍️ TREAT YOURSELF — ✶ what’s the coolest thing you own in your dr that you don’t have in your cr?
⊹ 🏛️ GRAND DESIGN — ✶ what is the core foundation of your dr? is it a utopia, a dystopia, a world of magic, or something entirely different?
⊹ 🔭 PARALLEL WORLDS — ✶ what is the biggest difference between your cr and your dr?
⊹ ⏳ TIMELESS WONDER — ✶ how does time work in your dr? is it linear, fluid, or something else entirely?
⊹ 🔮 FATED CONNECTIONS — ✶ do you believe your dr has a deeper purpose for you? if so, what is it?
² ˙𖦹 *∴ THE LOVER
⊹ 💌 SECRET ADMIRER — ✶ do you have a crush or romantic interest in your dr? how did you meet?
⊹ 🎶 SHARED PLAYLIST — ✶ what song reminds you of a special relationship in your dr?
⊹ 🩷 FAMILY BONDS — ✶ who do you consider family in your dr? are they different from your cr family?
⊹ 🕊️ SOULMATE THEORY — ✶ do you believe you have a soulmate in your dr? have you met them yet?
⊹ 🛡️ RIDE OR DIE — ✶ who would go to battle for you in your dr? who would you protect at all costs?
⊹ 💞 HEARTSTRINGS — ✶ who is the most important person in your dr?
⊹ 💌 LOVE LETTERS — ✶ who is your biggest love interest in your dr? how did you meet?
⊹ 🏹 STAR-CROSSED — ✶ is there a love story in your dr that feels like destiny? doesn't have to be yours.
⊹ 🕊️ FOUND FAMILY — ✶ do you have a family in your dr? are they different from your cr family?
⊹ 🏰 PARTNERS IN CRIME — ✶ who is the person you trust the most in your dr?
⊹ 💔 GHOST OF THE PAST — ✶ have you experienced loss or heartbreak in your dr?
³ ˙𖦹 *∴ THE FOOL
⊹ 🪞 MIRROR MIRROR — ✶ what do you look like in your dr? do you look the same or different from your cr?
⊹ 📖 STORYBOOK — ✶ if your dr was a book, what would the title be?
⊹ 🎬 MOVIE NIGHT — ✶ if your dr had a theme song or soundtrack, what would it be?
⊹ 💼 WORK & PLAY — ✶ do you have a job, hobby, or passion in your dr? what’s your daily routine like?
⊹ 🎭 ALTER EGO — ✶ how different is your dr self from your cr self?
⊹ 🏠 SAFE HAVEN — ✶ where do you go when you need peace and quiet in your dr?
⊹ 🏕️ WEEKEND GETAWAY — ✶ what’s your favorite thing to do in your free time in your dr?
⊹ 📸 PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY — ✶ (if shifted) what is your favorite memory in your dr? (if not shifted) what scenario are you most looking forward to?
⊹ 🎢 ADRENALINE RUSH — ✶ what is the most thrilling experience you’ve had in your dr?
⊹ 💭 UNWRITTEN PAGES — ✶ if your dr had a book, what is a chapter title that describes your journey?
⊹ 🦋 METAMORPHOSIS — ✶ how has your dr changed you as a person?
⊹ 🕰️ CHILDHOOD ECHOES — ✶ do you have the same childhood in your dr, or is it different?
⁴ ˙𖦹 *∴ THE MAGICIAN
⊹ ✨ FLEETING DREAM — ✶ when you wake up in your cr, what do you miss the most about your dr?
⊹ 🔑 ONE LAST GIFT — ✶ if you could bring something from your dr to your cr, what would it be?
⊹ 🌀 WILL YOU RETURN? — ✶ do you plan on shifting back to your dr permanently or just temporarily?
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moomuzan · 3 months ago
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THEIR LOVE FOR YOU WAS LIKE…
𐙚 the bsd cast x you x taylor swift lyrics :: just a drabble
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They’d keep you hidden, locked away behind the walls they’ve built, a secret they fear even whispering aloud. You, though—your love is eternal, like an oath carved into stone, unshaken by time or distance. They’d watch you from afar, aching to reach for you, but too broken or too bound by circumstance to hold you close. The tragedy lies in their silence and your devotion, two stars orbiting the same galaxy but never touching. This is the kind of love that is both immortal and unbearable, like a song that plays in the background of your life but never reaches its crescendo.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩. ━━━ DAZAI OSAMU, FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY, ODA SAKUNOSUKE, TACHIHARA MICHIZO, SHIBUSAWA TATSUHIKO
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They’d hold your hand as if the world might crumble without your touch. Their laughter would ripple like sunlight on water, igniting a joy in you so profound it feels almost holy. With every shared smile, every whispered word, you’d begin to understand the madness of poets and the battles fought for love. They would make you believe that the universe conspired to bring you together, that every fleeting second was leading to this luminous moment. Together, you’d rewrite the meaning of happiness, building a sanctuary in each other’s hearts. Love would no longer be a mystery but a truth you both hold, not in words but in the way they look at you.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. ━━━ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, KENJI MIYAZAWA, SIGMA, JOUNO SAIGIKU, RANPO EDOGAWA
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They’d crave your heartbeat, your soul, in this consuming fire that neither of you could control. Love with them is like a storm—unpredictable, raw, and terrifyingly beautiful. You’d fight the world together, not because it’s easy, but because they’d convince you that nothing worth having ever is. Their devotion is loud, messy, and wild, but it burns so brightly that it consumes every shadow in its path. They’d pull you close, teeth gritted, saying, “I’d destroy the world for you,” and you’d believe them because their love is both a weapon and a shield. They love recklessly, unapologetically, and in their arms, you’d feel both invincible and vulnerable, as if you’ve been seen for the first time.
𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 / 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ━━━ CHUUYA NAKAHARA, RYUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA, NIKOLAI GOGOL
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Their love is the quiet hum of existence, the unspoken promise of “I will be here.” You’d find peace in their arms, a stillness that feels like coming home after years of searching. Their heartbeat would anchor you, a rhythm that reminds you there’s beauty in simplicity, in the silent moments shared between two souls. They’d touch your hand, not to claim you, but to remind you that you are theirs in a way that requires no words. With them, you’d feel timeless, as though the world could end, and yet, in their presence, you’d remain whole. They wouldn’t just love you; they’d be love, a constant, steady force like the tides that shape the shore. This is the kind of love that doesn’t need fireworks to leave an eternal mark—it is profound in its quietness.
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰? / 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳? ━━━ KUNIKIDA DOPPO, TANIZAKI JUNICHIROU, FUKUZAWA YUKICHI, TECCHOU SUEHIRO
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did i…just post fluff?? (barely) the four horsemen of the apocalypse are these taylor prompts
join my taglist @amvpk01 @sophistication-as @ezzyrainrunaway @howls-fallen--stars @plutouran @marsaiki @lovingyouat4am @xumyuii @cultluvin @cryptidfuckerofficial @dazaistn
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xhoess · 8 months ago
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Crossing Lines
Hugh jackman x fem bod reader
Masterlist wc: 7,3k
Summary , a 25-year-old journalist, develops an romantic connection with Hugh Jackman, a charismatic actor in his mid-50s, while writing his biography. Despite the age gap and professional boundaries, the attraction between you deepens, leading to a passionate affair.
Warnings: top!reader, bottom!Hugh, age gap (legal)
As you stride through the bustling city streets, your heart thrums with excitement, each step echoing the monumental opportunity ahead. Today is the day your editor finally gives you the assignment you’ve been dreaming of since you first sat down in a journalism class — writing the biography of Hugh Jackman. For a 25-year-old up-and-coming journalist, it feels surreal to have the chance to capture the essence of a man whose career you’ve followed closely, whose roles have shaped your understanding of storytelling and performance.
After weeks of anticipation, your meeting with Hugh is set for a cozy café nestled within the city's artsy district. You arrive early, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you order a coffee, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. What could possibly attract such a famous star to a fresh-faced journalist like you? Yet, as you scan the café, contemplating that question, you spot him through the glass windows.
Hugh enters, casual yet charismatic in a fitted navy sweater and jeans. The minute he steps inside, the atmosphere seems to shift; even among the clusters of people, he somehow stands out. His smile, infectious and warm, instantly illuminates the room. As he walks toward you, your nerves evaporate under the heat of his genuine enthusiasm.
“Hey there! You must be the journalist I've been hearing about,” Hugh says, extending his hand with a friendly grin that showcases the dimples you’ve seen a thousand times on-screen.
Your handshake is firm but nervous, and you can’t help but chuckle at how at ease he makes you feel. “Yes, that’s me! I’m so thrilled to meet you. Thank you for taking the time.”
“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” he replies, gesturing for you to take a seat at a small, sun-drenched table. You can’t help but notice how his charisma seems to put everyone around him at ease.
As you settle into conversation, the initial questions and answers tumble out easily. You revel in his anecdotes about the early days of his career, stories that whisk you away to a different time. He speaks candidly about his passion for acting, the challenges he faced during auditions when he was just starting out, and the fiercely competitive environment of the industry.
“What was your biggest failure?” you ask, genuinely curious, hoping to seek the deeper truths behind the Hollywood glimmer.
Hugh’s expression momentarily changes; he leans back slightly, his gaze shifting as if contemplating the weight of your question. “You know, the pressure to succeed can sometimes make you forget why you fell in love with the craft in the first place,” he admits, his tone turning reflective. “I remember losing a significant role to someone else, and it stung. But that's part of the journey, isn’t it? You grow from those moments. You realize that failure isn’t the opposite of success; it’s part of it.”
You nod, fascinated. The more he opens up, the more the boundaries of interviewer and celebrity blur, replaced by a genuine connection.
As the conversation flows, the age difference feels like a minor detail; your minds and interests align in ways that make the moment feel timeless. An hour passes, but it hardly feels like a standard interview. Instead, it feels as if you’ve stumbled into a rich tapestry of shared experiences and emotions.
“Tell me about yourself,” Hugh prompts, the genuine curiosity in his voice encouraging you to peel back layers of your own story. You share anecdotes—tracing your journey through journalism, your dreams and fears, and your admiration for genuine connection.
To your surprise, you find yourself sharing more than you had anticipated. Buoyed by his kindness, you talk about your childhood dreams, your competitive spirit, and the moments of doubt you’ve faced in your career.
“I found you incredibly brave,” Hugh says, leaning in slightly, a sincere warmth radiating from him. “Pursuing what you love despite the risks—that’s true courage.”
His gaze holds yours, and for a moment, the busy café fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the shared energy. The atmosphere is charged. Maybe you’re projecting, but there’s something electric in the way his eyes linger on you, stirring a deep curiosity within.
Thus begins a journey that neither of you can predict. The casual café, once a mere backdrop, transforms into the starting point of something that ignites possibilities neither of you dared to fathom.
When the time comes to leave, Hugh stands and stretches, a motion that draws your attention to his commanding presence. “I look forward to our next meeting,” he says, a hint of promise laced in his tone. “I have so many stories left to share.”
As you walk out together, the lightness of the moment is heavy with implication. The sun casts a golden glow over the city, mirroring the warmth in your chest as the door closes behind you, sealing away the outside world. You both step into something new—an unspoken agreement lingers in the air, hinting at the shared curiosity that hangs between the two of you and the many stories yet to come.
You leave the café buzzing, awash in the thrill of possibility and the raw honesty of your conversation. The future feels bright, tinged with excitement and a flicker of something else—a connection, undeniable and fierce, that you can no longer ignore.
The weeks rolled by quickly and the rhythm of your days began to mold around your time with Hugh. Each interview revealed layers of the man you admired, peeling back the façade of the celebrated actor to uncover a genuine warmth that pulsed beneath. Those first moments of nervousness had faded, replaced by a sense of familiarity that felt both exhilarating and daunting.
You found yourself in a vibrant world—one that sparkled with excitement and challenges. Your first informal outing with Hugh was a trip to the set of his upcoming film. As you stood a safe distance from the lively chaos of crew members and actors, you watched Hugh shift effortlessly into his character. He embodied the role with such authenticity that it left you breathless. The way he interacted with the cast had an ease to it, commanding yet approachable. You couldn’t help but admire his professionalism, noting how he balanced being a star with being humble.
“Do you see what I mean?” Hugh called out, breaking character long enough to glance your way. He was engaging with the crew, tossing jokes back and forth—a lightness that was infectious. “There’s something amazing about creating something with other people.”
You nodded, but inside, your thoughts drifted to how effortlessly he made connections. Each word felt like a secret just between the two of you, drawing you in further.
As the days slipped into weeks, your coffee breaks became a treasured ritual. Sitting across from him, you found yourself laughing at tales from his childhood in Australia, almost forgetting the weight of his fame. He spoke earnestly about film roles that changed him, how the weight of expectation sometimes felt unbearable. On alternate days, you’d share your own small victories—a published article, a radio mention—gladly listened to by someone who understood the thrill of breaking news. The rapport deepened with every exchange, and by the time the afternoon sun filtered through the café windows, you found yourselves sharing thoughts on love, loss, and the uncharted territory of adulthood.
You could feel the attraction shimmering beneath your conversations—a vast ocean of proximity that threatened to pull you both in deeper. Each brush of your knees beneath the table, every lingering gaze, was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that stood between you. While you’d both made tacit agreements to keep things professional, the chemistry was undeniable. You saw it in the way his eyes sparked when yours met, how the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly when he noticed you studying him, lost in thought.
One rainy afternoon, after a particularly insightful interview, he invited you to see him rehearse for an upcoming theater production. Standing in the dim light of the rehearsal room, you felt the electricity in the air—the tension that came from passion thriving in a close space. Hugh’s presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he breathed life into each line. The commitment he displayed, the raw emotion that embedded in his performance, left you in awe.
At the end of the rehearsal, he found you in the back, watching with rapt attention. “What did you think?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow, his voice low and intimate.
“It was incredible,” you replied honestly, caught in his gaze. “You made it real.”
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you,” he replied, shrugging off the compliment. As he smiled, it was as if the whole world faded away, and the burgeoning feelings expanded into the space between you.
Afterward, you strolled through the bustling streets, the sky a bruised purple, filled with the anticipation of a coming storm. You shared thoughts about theater, passion, and life, and each word flowed easier than the last. Yet with each moment, the attraction loomed larger, an unspoken current that wrapped around you both, pulling you towards a precipice.
Hugh, sensing the shift in the air, brought the conversation to a softer, more personal tone. “I sometimes worry about being forgotten, about fading into the background,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. It startled you, this glimpse into his vulnerability.
You wanted to reach out, place a reassuring hand on his arm, share the burden of his fears, but something held you back. Instead, you shared your own doubts about your career, the uncertainty that often nipped at your heels. He listened intently, nodding and tilting his head, making you feel seen in a way you had never experienced before.
The boundaries you had both set began to blur, each emotional revelation feeling as intimate as a secret whispered in the dead of night. When your hands brushed against each other, igniting that familiar spark, you flinched slightly, heart racing.
As daylight faded and the streets glowed with the warmth of streetlights, you found yourselves standing outside a cozy little café you’d both passed.
“Do you want to grab a coffee?” Hugh asked, his voice light, but the tension still electric.
“Sure,” you replied, laughter spilling from your lips as you stepped inside, perhaps too easily forgetting all the boundaries you had meant to maintain.
The air between you felt charged. You settled into a corner booth, but the conversation had taken on a life of its own—lightly teasing yet profound. With each laugh, every shared glimmer of understanding, the invisible strings binding you pulled taut, almost fraying at the edges under the weight of unspoken desire.
But as the evening wore on and the laughter faded, an unnameable tension settled between you. Perhaps it was the age difference, perhaps a fear of complicating your career. But deep down, you both knew: something was brewing beneath the surface, begging to be acknowledged even as you danced around it.
As you left the café, the lingering touches and gazes could no longer be ignored. It felt daunting, the knowledge that you both could either step into uncharted territory or retreat to what had been your safe haven: a friendship grounded in admiration and professional respect. But one question loomed larger than the rest: were you willing to risk it all for a chance at something deliciously uncertain?
With each passing day, it became harder to imagine life without him, as unspoken words hung in the air like stars waiting to break through the dawn. Would you allow yourselves to feel it, to embrace the pull? That was the question that sparked a myriad of possibilities, eager to unravel at the slightest touch.
The day that Hugh invited you to dinner felt almost surreal. You had shared countless hours together, laughing and discussing his life, and now he was asking you to step outside the parameters of your professional relationship. The combination of excitement and apprehension danced in your stomach like butterflies eager to break free.
The restaurant was tucked away from the bustling streets, an upscale venue where elegance and intimacy intertwined flawlessly. Candles flickered on the tables, casting soft shadows that mingled with the warm glow of the overhead lights. As you walked in together, Hugh’s hand found the small of your back, an innocent gesture that sent shivers down your spine. The ambiance hinted at romance, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.
Over the course of the evening, you talked about everything from films to dreams. Hugh’s laughter was comforting, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He spoke with such passion about his current project, the excitement in his eyes igniting something deep within you. The wine flowed, the atmosphere was electric, and with every shared anecdote, the line between professional and personal faded further away.
At times, his gaze lingered a little longer on you than necessary, and you reveled in the warmth of his attention. It felt thrilling, almost forbidden, but the connection was undeniable. As the courses came and went, the flirtation between you grew more pronounced, transforming the conversation from simple pleasantries into something that sent your heart racing.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to step away from everything?” Hugh asked, swirling his wine glass, his thoughtful expression betraying the weight of his words. “To just escape, be someone else for a while?”
You leaned forward, captivated, sensing the vulnerability beneath his confident demeanor. “I think we all crave authenticity,” you replied. “Sometimes the roles we play in life feel like they overshadow who we really are.”
Hugh nodded, his eyes piercing through you as if he were reading the lines of a story yet to be written. “Authenticity can be hard to find when you’re in the public eye. It’s a strange feeling, needing to connect but knowing there are walls built around you.”
“It must be lonely,” you said softly, the truth of his words resonating with your own experiences throughout your career.
He smiled, yet his expression weighed heavy with sincerity. “That’s why genuine connections are so important. They remind us that we’re not alone, that there’s still someone who sees us for who we are beneath all the layers.”
The evening wore on, and as Hugh filled your glass again, he leaned in closer. “You’re different,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I can talk to you in a way I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”
Your heart raced at his admission. You weren't just a journalist; you were the one person who understood the actor behind the fame, the man behind the roles. The air thickened with tension, and the magnetism pulling you both closer was impossible to resist.
After dinner, he suggested taking a walk along the nearby beach. The idea sent a rush of thrill through you, and you couldn’t say no. As you strolled beside each other, moonlight glistened off the waves, reflecting the quiet intensity of the moment. The rhythmic sound of the surf served as a perfect backdrop, calming yet charged with unspoken desire.
You found yourself brushing against him more often, your fingers grazing against each other almost purposefully. The spark each touch ignited was undeniable, and when you finally stopped to take in the view—the moon reflecting off the water—you turned to face him, your heartbeat quickening.
He looked at you, his brown eyes dark with emotion, and everything seemed to still. There was no going back. The tension hung thick between you, and without thinking, you closed the distance and leaned in. He met you halfway, and his lips captured yours in a kiss that started softly as a whisper. You melted into him, and the moment deepened, transforming into an awakening that sent shockwaves through your entire being.
Before you knew you were entering his apartment.
Hugh’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you surrendered to the passion that had been building since the first interview.  He looked at you, his brown eyes dark with emotion, and everything seemed to still. There was no going back. The tension hung thick between you, and without thinking, you closed the distance and leaned in. He met you halfway, and his lips captured yours in a kiss that started softly as a whisper. You melted into him, and the moment deepened, transforming into an awakening that sent shockwaves through your entire being.
You pulled away, breathless, and looked into his eyes. "I want you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled, his eyes gleaming with desire. "I want you too," he replied, and he leaned in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he couldn't get enough of you
Your hands roamed over his body, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips. You reached down and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer to you. He groaned and pressed himself against you, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh.
"Let's take this to the bedroom," you said, your voice husky with desire.
He nodded, and you led him to your bedroom. You pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. You ground your pussy against his cock, feeling the heat building between you.
"Fuck, you feel good," he said, his hands grasping your hips.
"I haven't even started yet," you replied, and you leaned down to kiss him again. Your tongues danced together as your hands explored each other's bodies.
You broke the kiss and sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. He watched you, his eyes dark with desire. You unclasped your bra and let it fall away, revealing your breasts. He reached up and cupped them in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.
"You're so beautiful," he said, and he leaned up to take one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and bit gently, and you moaned with pleasure.
You reached down and undid his pants, freeing his cock. It was hard and thick, and you wrapped your hand around it, stroking it gently.
"I want to taste you," you said, and you leaned down to take him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste of him. He groaned and threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding you as you sucked him deeper into your mouth.
After a few minutes, you pulled away and climbed back on top of him. You positioned yourself over his cock and slowly lowered yourself down onto it. You moaned as he filled you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.
You started to ride him, your hips grinding against his. He reached up and cupped your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples.
"Fuck, you feel amazing," he said, his voice strained.
"You too," you replied, and you leaned down to kiss him again.
You broke the kiss and sat up, your hips still moving in a steady rhythm. You reached down and started to play with your clit, rubbing small circles over it.
"Oh god, I'm close," you said, your voice breathless.
"Me too," he replied, and he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you harder.
You both came at the same time, your orgasms washing over you like waves. You collapsed onto him, your bodies slick with sweat.
"That was amazing," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, it was," he replied, and he kissed you softly.
You lay there for a few minutes, your bodies entwined, before finally getting up and getting dressed. You walked back to the living room, hand in hand, feeling closer than you ever had before.
Time lost all meaning as you surrendered to the connection that had grown over weeks spent in Hugh’s presence. You discovered not just the contours of each other’s bodies, but the depths of emotions that had long been buried beneath layers of ambition and expectation. You shared moments that transcended mere physical intimacy—it was raw, it was genuine, and it was deeply, achingly beautiful.
You wake up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, the remnants of last night’s passion still shimmering at the edges of your memory. As you stir, the warmth of Hugh’s body beside you is both comforting and anxiety-inducing. You slowly prop yourself up on one elbow, trying to take in the serene expression on his face. His hair, tousled and messy, makes him look utterly disarming. The memory of his lips on yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your skin, sends a jolt of warmth through you. But as the thrill of the night starts to fade, reality crashes over you like a tidal wave.
What have you done?
It’s a question you’ve been silently wrestling with since you slipped into his life. The weight of the previous night hangs heavily in the air, and as you glance over at Hugh, you find yourself questioning everything. The thrill of your connection now contrasts sharply with the doubts swirling around in your mind. You’re not just a young reporter; you’re a 25-year-old woman who just crossed a monumental line with a man who’s not only twice your age but also a global superstar. What would your colleagues think? How would it affect your career?
Hugh stirs and opens his eyes, the momentary bliss of sleep fading as he meets your gaze. For a moment, there’s a flicker of that undeniable connection—the warmth of intimacy still lingering between you. But just as quickly, you see a shift in his expression, mirroring your own internal conflict.
“Morning,” he says, his voice a gravelly whisper, as if he is still finding his way back from one world to another.
“Morning,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. You sit up, tugging the sheets around you, as if shielding your emotions. The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in, and all of a sudden, it’s hard to breathe.
Hugh runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognize from the many times you’ve seen him in public. It’s a familiar but intimate act, one that draws you in all over again. “Last night was… unexpected,” he admits, his words heavy with unspoken questions.
“Yeah,” you manage, unable to mask the tremor in your voice. “I didn’t think… well, I didn’t plan for it to happen.”
He nods, his expression serious as he shifts to sit up next to you. “Neither did I. But it did. And now we need to talk about it.”
“Do we?” You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze as a whirlwind of emotions crashes over you—fear, regret, thrill, and an undeniable desire that you can’t seem to escape. “What do we say? We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“No, we can’t.” He breathes out slowly, as if trying to steady himself. “But we also can’t ignore the implications. This isn’t just fun and games. You know that, right?”
Your heart sinks. You know he’s right; he’s always been right. “Yeah,” you whisper, a lump forming in your throat. “But… what if it wasn’t just a mistake? What if we… tried to make sense of this?”
Hugh looks at you, those warm brown eyes piercing through your doubts, challenging your fears. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone softening. “Do you want to walk away?”
The question hangs between you like a fragile thread, spinning out into the vast uncertainty of your feelings. You take a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest. The thought of leaving him sends a wave of pain coursing through you, yet the reality of your professional life looms larger than ever.
“I don’t know,” you admit finally, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s just… complicated. You’re Hugh Jackman. You’re a legend. And I’m just me. What happens when it all goes wrong?”
His expression softens, and he reaches for your hand, his touch grounding in the turmoil. “Every relationship has its risks. But isn’t that what makes it worth it? The chance to be with someone who makes you feel alive?”
You meet his gaze, only to find the depth of understanding wrapped in warmth and honesty. It’s a lifeline, and despite the fear flooding through you, something flickers within—an ember of hope that maybe this moment can turn into something lasting.
“Do you really think it’s worth it?” you push, still uncertain. “We’d be in the public eye. People will talk...”
“Let them talk,” he counters, the fierceness in his voice igniting something inside you. “I’ve spent my life worrying about what others think. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that living for the public can lead to a hollow existence. I don’t want to hide from what feels real.”
His words resonate within you, striking a chord you didn’t even know existed. The fear doesn’t disappear, but the possibility—the allure of a genuine connection—sets your heart racing. Once again, you are reminded of how he sees you not just as a journalist but as a woman, a person worthy of love and connection.
“I don’t want to walk away,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I just don’t want to hurt you or jeopardize our lives.”
Hugh smiles softly, and for a moment, the tension lifts. “I won’t let you hurt me. But we have to be honest with ourselves. If we continue down this path, we have to be ready for the world to witness it.”
You swallow hard, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a heavy fog. “What if we take it slowly? Keep it under wraps until we figure things out?”
He considers your suggestion, the smile retreating slightly as he weighs the possibilities. “It might be the best approach. We can still pursue this connection, just… with some discretion.”
With a shared understanding, the path before you seems clearer, the feelings that have grown too immense to ignore now taking a tangible shape. As you lean into him, emotions swirling like a tempest within, you realize that you’re ready to risk it all for the chance to create a beautiful story with him. One that bends the rules but ultimately feels right.
The sun slowly dipped on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue through the large window of the café where you and Hugh had agreed to meet. This was meant to be just another interview session, yet you both knew the underlying current of tension had transformed each subsequent meeting into something decidedly more intimate—something that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
As you nestled into the cozy chair across from him, you couldn’t ignore the quiet thump of your heart echoing in your chest. The faint sounds of clinking cutlery and chatter melted into the background as you locked eyes with him; those deep, soulful orbs seemed to recognize the tumult of emotions swirling within you. Today was different.
Hugh’s casual approach veiled a seriousness beneath the surface. He was dressed simply in a navy shirt and jeans, his trademark charm effortlessly on display, but there was something in the set of his jaw that told you he was preparing to confront what had been left unaddressed since that fateful night.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began, his voice low and steady. “About us. About that night.”
You felt a shiver run through you, a jolt of recollection. The memory of his lips on yours, the way everything around you faded away as you became encapsulated in the moment, sent adrenaline coursing through your veins. But with that thrill came a nagging sense of dread, the reality of what it meant for both of you hanging heavily over your heads.
“I don’t want to pretend like that didn’t happen,” he continued, his expression earnest. “And despite the complications, I don’t want to walk away from… whatever this is.”
“What if it complicates everything?” you countered, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. “You’re Hugh Jackman, and I’m just—”
“—just a brilliant journalist who’s been shining a light on the world for years,” he interjected, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re someone who sees me for who I am, not just who I portray on-screen. You’ve become so much more than just a subject of my biography.”
His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet the underlying reality was indisputable. The age difference? The spotlight? The inevitability of hurt if things went sideways? Each point weighed heavily on your mind.
But there was a magnetic pull, a connection that felt undeniably unique. What the two of you had blossomed from shared experiences, laughter, and moments both profound and mundane was a rarity, one that would be foolish to dismiss without a fight.
“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with hope and uncertainty.
“I’m saying I don’t think I can walk away, and I’d rather risk the fallout than miss out on something real,” he confessed, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. “I want to see where this goes, if you do.”
Taking a deep breath, you weighed the implications: professional fallout, judgment from the public eye, the complexities of an age difference that loomed large in circumstances such as these. The questions danced on the tip of your tongue, begging to be vocalized. What would your editor say? What would your friends think? Would it jeopardize your burgeoning career? And then, lingering silently in the back of your mind—was it worth it?
But how could you ignore the way his laughter made your voice lift? The way your shoulders relaxed in his presence? Your gaze strayed down to his fingertips, grasped around the wine glass, elegant and assured, mirroring the strength you found within him.
“I don’t want to get hurt,” you said after a long silence, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m scared—what if we crash and burn?”
Hugh leaned back, his expression contemplative yet patient. “I get it; I've been through enough ups and downs in my life to understand the fear. But what if we soar? What if it’s exhilarating and meaningful?” His eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief. “They said I’d never be able to dance like I did in Moulin Rouge, and now look at me!”
You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension breaking for a moment with his endearing humor. “You made it work, though. Would we even stand a chance?”
“I believe we would,” he said firmly, leaning closer once again. “But it takes that leap of faith. Look, let’s take it slow. Let’s keep growing our connection, exploring this—whatever it means—together. You don't have to give up your career or dreams for this, but I want you to know I’m here, and I’m willing to fight for you.”
As hope ignited in your chest, you felt a warmth radiate through you—a desire to plunge into the unknown with someone you had come to admire so deeply. You could feel the unyielding strength in his words; if he was willing to navigate the storm, perhaps you could, too.
And so, with a tremorous breath, the fear began to melt away, revealing a burgeoning excitement for what lay ahead. “Okay,” you finally said, your heart racing. “Let’s figure this out—together. But I want to take baby steps.”
Hugh’s smile could have illuminated the entire café as he nodded, visibly relieved. “That’s all I ask. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something beautiful in the chaos.”
In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of the café, you felt a sense of release—a weight lifted. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you had made a choice: to embrace the emotions that blossomed between you and Hugh Jackman, and to allow the journey to unfold in its own time.
As you both toasted to your new beginning, a delicious thrill coursed through you, igniting a spark of hope for what might blossom in the days to come.
OKAY THIS MAY BE MY FAV FIC I WRITE EVER OMG... part two maybe?? If yall think yes I want a part to COMMENT THAT OK???
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winterarmyy · 2 years ago
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Thin Walls, Thin Lines
What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?
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Summary: Modern society surely had corrupted the mind of the hundred-something year old man, Bucky Barnes, when he seemed to have forgotten the art of courting a lady. Lost in lust and pleasure, he had been indulging with endless array of different girls on his bed almost every night. And the opposite side of that thin walls of his room, lives a hopeless romantic who he was madly in love with.
Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)
Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader
Words: 4.9k++
Warnings: avenger au, explicit language/contents, angst, lil bit of drama, fluff, please bare with the fuckery of bucky barnes, reader is sensitive yet quite fiesty too. i can't backup steve on this one, he is on his own.
A/N: As you can see from the navigation bar, we have two different endings for this fic, because I am greedy and indecisive. The original version ended with fluff and the deleted scene (alternate ending) ended with absolute filth of a smut. So... enjoy! 💕
P/S: And this is also my submission for @jessybarnes 's writing challenge. I have chosen "Kiss me again" from the prompt list and I hope you like the way I used it in this fic!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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Y/N has always been a hopeless romantic. She dreams of a love like the ones she read in books. She craved someone who loves her so deeply that she could never find peace in anyone else but him. She wanted all the love songs and poetry to be reminders of him; his beauty, his charms.
Fresh flowers, stargazing, coffee dates, kisses that tastes of cotton candy, warm cuddles, and every little things in between; she longed for it all. She dreams of a love that is so consuming until all that's left in that small bubble of infatuation is their entangled soul mending each other to the bone.
That's what makes her a hopeless romantic.
And very much the opposite of her was Bucky. He is an infuriating flirt. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't call her with sickeningly sweet nicknames; doll, gorgeous, princess, darling, you name it. He will definitely drop some suggestive lines at any given chance and most of the time when she least expected.
He can charm anyone just by his presence, and if you're lucky enough to get one of his infamous smile; then you best believe that you won't be going home alone that night, or able to walk proper the next morning. He is the typical playboy you know and hate; very often she'll see different girl in his arms or on his bed. And that man seemed to not know when to stop. Sometimes, she do wonder if he ever got tired of sex. Because she knows for certain that he can go on and on for hours, daily.
"Fuck,, that's it. Spread your legs for me. Yeah, 'atta girl."
Speaking of the devil.
This has been recurring for months now. It seems like the man never sleep because his voice would always wake her up. She couldn't decide what was worse; between being forced to hear the sounds of the skin slapping, the bed creaking, him groaning and her squealing or being a super light sleeper that even a whisper in her room would jolt her awake.
Y/N let out an annoyed grunt when she swoop her head under the pillow, hoping to silenced the noises even just a little bit. Surprise; it didn't help at all. Her body cringed and her face contorted into a squint when she hear the other woman announcing her release as the headboard hits the wall a little harder, a little faster.
Bucky Barnes sure is a fuckboy but unfortunately for her, he is also the man she fell in love with.
She refused to show it, but lord knows how much her heart simply swell to the sight of his smile. Despite the flirtatious tendencies of his, there was something about him that attracted her like a magnet; or like a moth to a flame.
Maybe it was his old soul, or maybe because she saw glimpses of timeless charm in him; the way he moves, the way he gazes, and the way treated her. Nevertheless, it was such a devastating thing for someone like her to fall for someone like him.
The last thing she wanted in a man, is to look at her like she was just a good fuck and nothing more. She just couldn't imagine herself to be tied with someone like that. And Bucky was exactly that someone.
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Y/N haven't been able to get more than 2 hours of sleep for months now. The lack of it had caused her to drastically lose physical strength and lately fatigue has been a constant presence as well.
So she decided to go the medbay to consult Dr. Cho about it. After running some tests, she sat her down for some Camomile tea as she went through the results, "It seemed like the severe lack of sleep had took a really heavy toll on you."
Y/N sighed as she place the tea cup on the back on the table, "Yes, I am well aware of that. That is precisely why I am here."
"Nightmares?" Dr. Cho speculated.
If the definition of nightmare is 'the moans of the man, that she had a crush on, fucking someone else next door' then, yes. She was having long and nearly endless nightmares for months now.
"Something like that." She lied.
"Then, I have some medication that I can prescribe to you. You should take it daily after dinner and..." Before Dr. Cho managed to finish her instructions, Y/N quickly asked, "Is it possible to fix me without meds?"
Dr. Cho frowned curiously, "Why wouldn't take meds? That's the quickest way to help for your situation, as far as I know." she asked.
This was not her first rodeo; she had troubles sleeping back when she was merely teenager. And the last time tried using meds, she ended up almost overdosed herself from it, "It's just... I prefer not to." she evaded.
Dr. Cho nodded understandingly before clarifying the current situation, "Well then, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. Though some research suggested that meditation routine before sleep can help. Or putting up some natural ambience like the sound of rain or waves--"
Y/N wasn't really listening after the first sentence. Because all she could thought of was how much longer she can bare with this and what will it take for her to finally snap.
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Y/N was dying. At least it felt like it.
With her deprivation of sleep and the intense combat training she had to go through today, her patience was reaching it's limit. After visiting the medbay 2 weeks ago, she had tried to approach Bucky about it but he always took it lightly.
There was series of insincere apology followed by a cheeky promise to 'keep the tone down' for her. But nothing changed. She asked him again and again; days gone by he didn't live up to the end of his bargain.
For those past week, Y/N had resorted to sleep in the living room for most of the nights. How she dreaded to leave her comfy bed but she could no longer tolerate the sounds coming from the other side on the wall. Though she still jolted awake from time to time due to how uncomfortable it was sleeping on a couch, but at least she got more than 2 hours of sleep if she was to compare to the nights she slept in her own room.
It's not she didn't notice it at all; she knew exactly how and why it happened. The habit of microsleeping that she developed during the course of this training. The slowed reaction time, the lack of energy, she can feel it. But, there was nothing she can do about it.
The only cure for this was to get some rest. A proper rest. And that can't happened, not without Bucky's cooperation.
When Y/N was marching towards the sargent who was sitting way across the gym; she could see how his eyes undress every piece of her clothing, how his tongue rolled out and his teeth sunk into his lips.
She wasn't even wearing anything remotely provocative but here he was lusting over the way her hips sway especially when he was the one she's walking towards.
The moment she stood in front of him, his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Yes, princess. How may I be of your service?" His voice was sultry and the way he towers over made her slightly nervous for no reason.
Her heart fluttered, yet her lips refused to form a smile, "Don't call me princess."
"I apologize, my queen." Bucky gave her a cheeky smile.
Y/N didn't want to drag this any longer than she should, so she quicky jump into it and said, "So you know how I’m like-"
"-absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I'm familiar go on." Bucky cuts in. If panic ever rose in her chest, then she was doing an incredible job of hiding it, "Can you just shut up for a second and take me seriously?"
His eyes glint with flirtaous mischief when he replied, "Doll, you know the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."
Y/N simply sighed before she began to rant, "I really don't have the mood for this banter with you, Barnes. I just want you tone down your nightly routine. It is because of you I've been having trouble sleeping and--"
He quickly stopped her before she nags even more than she already did, "Okay, okay I get it. We've been through this, doll." Bucky's face lit up when he suggested, "How about I help you sleep, hmm? I may know a thing or two about tiring someone out." There was surely something unholy in those steel blue eyes of his.
And Y/N picked it up rather quick, but considering the amount of times he had insinuate something more than just a friendly banter, then of course she knew exactly what he was suggesting, so she simply replied, "No offense, Barnes. But, I don't do one night stand or no strings attached thing. And with a manwhore like you? No, thank you." sassy was her answer.
Bucky's head tilted back as he laughed, then when he spoke his voice was like a devil luring an angel to sin, "Oh babydoll, if I were to be a whore, it'll only be for you." He stepped closer so that only she can hear his confession.
His masculine scent hits her nose, mixture of the citrus cologne and his natural odour was just perfect. Annoyingly alluring; but perfect. And it took all her will to hold it together and blatantly rejects him, "Still not interested."
Bucky groaned in protest, "Come on, princess. You can't keep dreaming for some prince charming to court you, do you? You know that's probably never going to happen right?"
Surely he meant only to tease her; that it was less likely that an actual prince to romance her. Not that she did not deserve the world; she does. And Bucky was more than will to burn it to the ground if that's what she wanted.
But, Y/N didn't see it that way. She thought that Bucky meant that she is not worthy enough for a decent man to court her with respect and chilvary; that she was just a toy fit for fucking and nothing more. And the fact that her "insomia" had affected her usually high patience and reduced it to almost paper thin, it was only fair for her to finally snap.
She can tolerate his endless flirtation but she can't simple turn a blind eye for his insult.
Bucky was caught by surprise why Y/N harshly grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back and nearly stumbled; her eyes was pure fire when she growled, "Don't you dare mock the way I value relationship, Barnes." Her nose flared with anger and the commotion has attracted some prying eyes towards the two.
"Just because you enjoy fucking anything that breathes, that doesn't mean that everyone else does." She seethed, "The only cock that will be wrecking my pussy would belong to someone I love and if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off." She forcefully pushed him until his ass landed on the bench behind him.
Her feet stomped all throughout her exit out of the gym, leaving Bucky in a blinking confusion.
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He knew it was wrong.
It felt good. It felt right.
But, it was so fucking wrong.
To keep moaning Y/N's name when he railed those strangers to heaven; when he came so hard into the thin layer of condom. And it was always a soft and slow type of whimper, right in those girls' ears. So intimate, so careful not to let his secret out; knowing how thin the walls between him and the love of his life.
But, he certainly didn't care about the girl he was fucking. If it wasn't for his heavy body pinning her from behind, she would've elbowed him right in the guts for moaning another woman's name. Unfortunately for him, she quickly ditched and see herself out after the first round.
Now, he laid there; naked and bare. Thinking of how he simply couldn't help it. How could he not think of Y/N all the times? Not when he was deeply, helplessly in love with her. But, he knew she wouldn't bat an eye at him now that he had the reputation of a "fuckboy", as the young ones describes it. She especially made it clear today at the gym. She's never going to give him a chance now.
Not when she's a hopeless romantic. And the fact that he too was once the same was just aggravating to him. He was such a gentleman decades ago; before Hydra, before the war, when he was but a young man living Brooklyn.
His Ma had really shaped him into the perfect gentleman; every parents in the neighbourhood wanted him as their son-in-law. They claimed he would make the perfect husband for their daughters. But, things are different now. And he knew that the man he was before was long forgotten.
It was just curiosity at first; about how sex works in the 21st century. However, Bucky quickly fall into the promises of lust and pleasure; changing girls like changing clothes. He let himself dosed in ecstasy, as if it was a drug to silenced the dark and haunting memories of his past, like it was a quick escape from reality, from the Winter Soldier.
Then, Y/N happened.
Bucky never saw it coming; but, he fell. Hard.
They were colleague for years and had been a good friend he can rely on besides Steve. She was so sweet and pretty. Probably the most gorgeous woman he ever laid his eyes on, in the hundred something year old life of his. Most importantly, she was kind and patient and strong and fierce yet so unforgivingly selfless. 
But that didn't matter now, does it? Especially when she despise him. And it was all because of the unholy title he held.
At first Bucky didn't notice it, but now that he stepped closer into the living room, he heard it again. The rustling fabric, the quiet whimper coming from the sofa. His steps were as careful as a wolf on a hunt, stalking a hiding prey in between the trees.
If Bucky were to guess what he would find on a late night trip to the kitchen, he would've probably said 'ice cream' and not 'Y/N sleeping in the living room'. His eyes briefly raked her sleeping figure, curling uncomfortably into the pastel purple blanket. Then at the scattered pillows on the floor around her.
Why was she sleeping in the living room?
Another whine passed her lips and his attention was locked on her frowning face; it seemed like she was having a bad dream. Bucky carefully crouch next to her, and ravel in her beauty. Such delicate features, long lashes, pretty freckles across her nose, and those soft looking lips; he would kill just to taste her them, to sink his teeth in between them.
It worried him though; to see her sleeping here. She was clearly uncomfortable, it was a mystery that she managed to even fall asleep in the first place. Bucky suspected she simply passed out due to today's training. It was particularly hard, even for him. Let alone a normal human being like Y/N.
Not to mention the fight that they had.
Then, it clicked. The complains about how she had trouble sleeping. It wasn't just to make fun of him or tease him in any way. It was a plead. She needed to be heard and he completely blew her off with jest and jokes.
"Was it because of... me?" Bucky thought to himself. It all made sense now, "Shit." A curse rang in his mind when he bit the insides of his cheek. He was mad at himself. How could he be so insensitive? And he claimed to love her? Please. What an absolute piece of shit he was.
When Y/N began to toss and turn, her blanket fell from her body. Even in her sleep, the cold managed to catch her. She instinctively curled towards herself, seeking warmth but was no avail.
She look so small and Bucky felt a surge of need to cuddle her close, keeping her safe, keeping her warm in his arms. But if he does that, he'd probably get kicked in the nuts. So instead, he picked up the fallen blanket lay it back across her whole body; carefully not to disturb her sleep.
Bucky smiled softly when she snuggled into the fabric and before he walked away, he swore to stop this corrupting habit of his and apologize for being such a douchebag to her. And if he's lucky, maybe he could even properly court her.
But for now, he just needed to go through tommorrow's mission. So does everyone one else in the team.
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"Do you realized what you have done?" Not matter how hard he tried to hold it back, everyone in the Quinjet can see how Steve was seething.
Y/N's lost of sleep had took a toll on her more than she realized now that it had affected her performance in mission. She tried to ignore the way she was basically seeing Steve's feet multiply by the second, and continued to look down in shame, "I'm sorry, Captain."
"Don't apologize to me. Nat's the one who got shot because of you!" He yelled as he pointed at the red haired woman at the side of the plane.
No matter how much she wanted to blame Bucky on this; how he literally robbed her from fulfilling her human needs to rest at night, but she just couldn't. It was her fault that Natasha got hurt. If she was more alert, she would've seen the enemy standing right in front of her. If she was awake enough, then Natasha wouldn't get hurt.
Tears threatened to form when she looked over at her dear friend, bleeding at the side, "I'm so sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't know what came to me and I--"
"Oh please, I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week, honey." Natasha swiftly cuts into her apology, in attempt to diffuse the heated situation.
But, Steve totally disagree with her, "Don't make this 'okay', Nat. You almost died because for her carelessness. Being inadequate shouldn't be okay for any agent to do. It is extremely reckless and downright stupid."
There was a sound of a distant gasp from the pilot pit, "Language!" Tony was clearly trying to lighten up the mood but it failed rather miserably when no one reacted.
Steve had every right to be mad, especially when his girlfriend was injured because of this, but oh does it hurt to hear his stabbing words. It hurts more when it comes from the Captain America himself.
God, she was extremely tired.
Physically, mentally and that's what happens when a person is lack of sleep. Then when she thought about all her hardwork and struggles to train amongst the superhero themselves, she couldn't help but to crack; and the tears that was building up in her eyes finally fell.
When Steve saw it, he lost it completely, "Oh, you're gonna cry now? WOW. Real mature, y/n. You can't disappoint me more can you?" At that point, he was being a little too mean for anyone's liking.
Especially Bucky.
So Bucky slowly pulled Y/N back, and shielded her body behind his as he went on face to face with his bestfriend, "That's enough, Steve." He warned but Steve doesn't seem to get the idea, "No, Buck. Do you see--"
Bucky took one step closer, his menacing glare went right through Steve's soul, "I said... that's enough." He repeated his words. This time the message went through.
Steve gulped and cleared his throat as he waved a dismissing hand, "I expect a full report and a letter of apology from you when we get back, y/n." He ended his sentence with his back turned and then walked away towards his girl.
When Bucky turned around to face Y/N, she was but a crying mess. Tears kept streaming down and her lips quivered in so much sadness. Now, that she was in the light, Bucky could see the darker shades on the bag of her eyes.
This was his fault. If he just stopped goofing around and listen to what she had to say yesterday, she wouldn't need to go through this, "Oh sweetheart..." though he meant to call her in his mind, it might just slipped through his lips.
Y/N glared up at him, "This was none of your concern, Barnes." She spat.
He shrugged, "Well, lucky for you, I don't care whose it is. What I know is I care about you. Now, let's get that wound patch up." Bucky simply said, and that was when she realized that her ribs were slashed open, bleeding and torn. Maybe it was not too deep, that was why she didn't notice it.
But it is an injury nonetheless, and it was a surprise to her that Bucky noticed it. "I don't want your help." She frowned yet continued to sniffle.
"Yeah, but you need it." He replied as he carefully tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ears.
Unable to think of any comebacks, she let her fatigue win over. Her lips shut tightly and her chest shuddered for breaths. And when Bucky took her hand in his and lead the way, her body instantly responded by gripping him tight.
Bucky's heart soared at the touch of her small hand in his, while fire was burning in hers.
She hates him. She hates how caring he can be. She hates how soft he was when handling her. And she hates how easy it was for him to make her fall for him even more.
Y/N's body quickly went on auto pilot; she let him undress the blood soaking top and patch her wounds. And Bucky let her cry her heart out on his shoulder all the way back home to New York.
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That night when everyone had settled back to their own rooms, Y/N was prepping to sleep outside again. It was like a schedule for Bucky to always fuck whatever his frustrations out when they finished a mission.
And she doesn't want to hear any of it. Not tonight.
Thankfully, her wounds were mostly healed thanks to Dr. Cho and her ingenious of a machine, Cradle. That thing fixed the teared tissue right up with its regenerative  functions.
Now, Y/N just needs to endure the bruises but those are bearable. What she couldn't bear is the lack of energy and goodnight's sleep. She wished to just pass out for days and not wake up even if a prince came to kiss her to wake.
And she knew that sleeping in her room won't give her that.
Y/N piled her pillows and blanket on top of another before scanning the room one last time to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Because she was not planning to step foot in her room until dawn comes, hoping the sounds from the other side of the room died down by then.
When she was walking pass Bucky's, she noticed how awfully quiet his room was, but she didn't think about it too much. She waited for the elevator to open its door only to reveal the man himself, "Barnes."
He eyed how Y/N's figure almost hidden behind the piles of pillow in her hold. He stepped out as he asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Bucky knew exactly where but he was not having any of that.
It was weird to her that she didn't see any sign or Bucky's hook-up in his arms, but she bet that there will be one after she's gone downstairs, "Away from you, that's for sure." She said, taking a step into the elevator but instantly stopped the moment Bucky blocked her path.
Bucky lips flatten against each other; he didn't say anything, he only frowned down at her then simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room.
Utterly confused, "What are you doing? Hey, let go of me." She twisted her wrist in his hold, while trying to balance the pillows from falling. A useless trial it was; because who could even escape that metal grip of his.
Bucky quickly respond, "No. You're not sleeping on that shitty sofa tonight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to her, "You're injured, y/n. You need on a proper rest on a proper bed." He coaxed.
How did he know that she had been sleeping on the coach? She thought before saying out loud, "I'm fine, Barnes. It's not even that deep of a wound, the Cradle fixed it clean. So, can you just... let go of my hand?" She sighed.
But Bucky refused to even spare her a glance, he silently tug her and stomp his way towards her room. There waa retaliation on her side, but his lack of response had lead Y/N to her defeat. She begrudgingly followed his long strides until she they stood by her bed.
He snatched each of the pillows and blankets off her hands, while Y/N simply blinked speechlessly as she watched Bucky started set up her bed like he had been doing it everyday.
Weirdly, at times like this, she found him extremely lovely. There was no corny and flirty comment about her, or his annoying habit of teasing every little thing she does.
There was just a comfortable silence and a kind gesture; the type that pulled the red strings of her heart just enough to make her want to dream of him.
Fucking hell, she can't believe that he managed to do that again! Making her fall for his antics. He really needs to stop doing that, it's simply rude.
Y/N broke from her love struck trance when she felt his cold metal laced around her hand again, he pulled her closer, "Now hop on, bunny. You need to rest." He lead her under the blanket and she grumbled curses under her breath, something about he need stop calling her weird nicknames like that.
When she was well tucked in and comfortable, Bucky sat at the edge of the bed by her side and spoke, "I'm sorry. For not trying to listen to you at the gym yesterday. I was a jerk."
His apology was so sincere that Y/N caught herself in a shock. Who is this man? What has he done to Bucky Barnes?
His eyes lingered to the wall behind her bed as if he was trying to find the right words to address it, "About the noises..." he trailed, "...it'll stop from now on."
Oh. Nevermind. She liked this Bucky. She wants to keep him forever, "Really? You mean it?" There weren't any effort put to hide her excitement when her voice nearly squeaked.
Bucky chuckled amusingly at her reaction, "Really, doll. But, you gotta promise not to sleep on the couch again."
Sparks of joy filled her chest when he confirmed his decision. Sure, it was such a small favour to do to anyone. But, she appreciate his efforts to make amends. "Hmm, I promise." She hummed happily, blinking slow as the comfort of her bed lured her into a drowsy state.
"Thanks, Bucky." Her mentioned his name.
Thank god for the super sensitive hearing ability, cause Bucky surely love the sound of her voice whispering his name so softly, "For apologizing or for tucking you to sleep?" He jest.
It only made her eyes rolled to the side and a smile spread across her face, "Both." she said. "And for what you did on the jet."
Bucky simply shrugged as if it was a normal thing to do. But, it wasn't. It was rare for him to challenge Steve like he did. And he did it for her, "Really, I owe you one." She said assuringly.
A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.
But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"
And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.
Would he? Take advantage of her?
How could he though? He loved her too much to even think of purposely hurting her. "No." Bucky replied as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, "Sleep well, princess." He mumbled against her skin.
And he pulled back, he grinned a cheeky smile. There it was; the pink blush on her face, wide surprise of her eyes and her slightly parted lips. She looked so adorable. He swore couldn't get enough of it.
"Kiss me again..." she nearly growled, but her blushing on her face didn't indicate anger, "...and I will choke you in your sleep." Though it was an attempt to threaten but typical of Bucky to just love to turn things around, "Hmm, is that an invitation, princess?" He purred and stole another kiss; this time, on her cheek. "Then, I will be looking forward to it." He whispered as quickly as he removed himself from the scene.
When he found his own bed, he couldn't help but to laugh at the muffled scream coming from the opposite side of the thin walls, "James. Fucking. Barnes!!!"
End.
Alternate ending (smut edition): Deleted Scene >>
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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A/N: I hope you drop some thoughts behind before going to the deleted scene. Which I know you will. See you on the other side 👀
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blindmagdalena · 6 months ago
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I know you've done vampire Homelander before, but after looking (totally not obsessively) at various Antony Starr/Homelander gifs, how do you see canon normal Homelander reacting to his so/us/reader pointing out his sharp teeth and how vampiric they are? Perhaps pointing it out around Halloween👀. I can see a bunch of scenarios but I'd love your input.
"You could be a vampire," you say, swiping lazily through the costume listings on Vought Prime on your phone.
You've made a dozen suggestions already, but he's shot down every single one of them. You're beginning to lose hope that Homelander will be dressed as anything other than "The Homelander" for your first Halloween together.
"You already wear a cape, a high collar, slicked back hair. All we need is a palette swap."
Sitting on the couch next to you, your legs draped over his lap, he gives your thigh a pensive rolling tap with his fingers.
"I thought the vampire fad was over."
"No, vampires are timeless. Plus, you even have the fangs."
"I do not have fangs."
Like Dracula rising from his coffin, you sit straight up, staring him dead in the eye.
"Yes, you do."
His eyes narrow a touch. You can see him running his tongue along his teeth behind his lips.
"See?" you prompt. "You could definitely pierce my carotid with those bad boys."
"You sound like you've thought about it," he says, amusement steadily replacing his initial offense.
"Maybe I've fantasized a little," you say, the words more a tease than a simple admission. "Like I said, you've got the look down pat. You have super strength, you fly, you hate the smell of garlic. You're just a very... patriotic vampire."
He laughs, giving you a perfect flash of those very sharp canines you do so adore. He grabs your legs and slides you over his lap like you weigh nothing at all, bringing you properly into it.
"Tell me about this fantasy."
You slip one arm around his neck while you gesture with the other, setting the scene.
"Alright, so, picture this: it's nighttime—obviously, because vampire"—
"Obviously," he echoes very seriously.
—"and I'm on a rooftop alone."
"Why are you on a rooftop at night?"
"I'm sorry, are you already poking plot holes in my hyper specific 'vampire you' fantasy that you asked to hear?"
He puts up a gloved hand like a white flag of surrender. "Continue."
"Thank you. So, rooftop at night. It's cold, I look very demure and vulnerable—stop laughing—and perfect for a midnight snack. That's when I hear you, first the billow of your cape in the crisp wind, followed by your deep, velvety voice as you lure me in with, 'Chillin' all by your lonesome, beautiful?'"
Homelander bursts into laughter at that. You grin, his laugh causing something warm to blossom in your chest.
"That's fucking lame," he says, teeth as sharp as ever in that wolfish smile of his. "Why did you make vampire me so lame?"
"I mean, my love. If the boot fits," you say slyly, cupping either side of his face.
"See, I don't think I would say anything at all," he tells you, taking hold of your wrists. He pulls your hands in so that he can wrangle them both into the grip of one hand, and then turns you away from him, putting your back to his chest.
To this day, the ease with which he manhandles you still leaves you breathless. The strength lurking in him is unlike anything you've ever known.
"I would just... creep up behind you. Silent," he says, quieter now, his hot breath tickling your neck. "You wouldn't even know I was there until..."
You suck in a sharp breath of your own as you feel his teeth graze your throat, goosebumps erupting over every inch of skin.
"The bite."
He sinks his teeth in, the sharp sting of it jolting a gasp out of you that fades unexpectedly into a moan.
Holy fuck.
He didn't break skin, but you're sure he came close. He drags his tongue over the fading indents left in his wake, the heat of it sending a shiver up your spine.
"One bite is all it takes, and then I'm hooked. Instead of suckin' you dry, I keep you. My own sweet, demure little juice box."
"Eugh, you had me going until juice box," you say, but your trembling voice fails to convey the disinterest you intend.
You feel the shape of his grin against your neck as it widens.
"Your pulse disagrees. It's gone south."
"You're one to talk. Your cup feels awfully stiff," you say, grinding back against him for good measure. It satisfies you to hear him suck in a sharp little breath.
"Bedroom?" he murmurs, the word nearly lost in the kisses he's peppering along your still-stinging neck.
"Bedroom," you agree, giving a little yelp at how quickly he propels himself up into the air, flying more than he's walking.
Once Halloween rolls around, some remark that putting a little fake blood in the corners of Homelander's mouth doesn't constitute a costume, but you don't care.
You're plenty satisfied with your vampire boyfriend.
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yesihaveaobsession · 2 months ago
Text
Dress to Impress
Alastor x female!reader
Summary: With only owning one dress and a hotel event coming up, Alastor declares to go shopping. with the reader (you)
A/N- Hope everyone who did celebrate Valentines Day had a great one! Just wanted to say I appreciate each and every single one of you!! Thank y'all so much for all the support! This turned out longer than I was expecting, BUT I love it ha-ha.
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You stood in front of your closet, staring at the one and only dress you actually liked and owned. It was modern, sleek, and just perfect for you. That’s what you were planning to wear to the event Charlie had been planning and talking about all week. But according to Alastor, owning just one dress simply wouldn’t do—especially not for the grand event at the hotel.
“My dear, you need more dresses!” he had declared with a dramatic wave of his hands as he strolled into your room, stopping beside you in front of your closet. “A lady of your stature can’t be seen wearing the same thing twice!”
And that was how you found yourself in a fancy little boutique in the heart of Hell, with Alastor. He stood behind you, looming over your shoulder, offering unhelpful commentary.
“Too plain!”
“Not nearly enough flair!”
“Ugh, modern fashion is so dull.”
You just rolled your eyes and held up a sleek black dress with elegant gold detailing. “I like this one,” you said firmly.
Alastor’s nose scrunched in disapproval as he eyed the dress like it had personally offended him in every way possible. “It’s so… boring!” It wasn’t. But to him, it was.
And there he was, grinning from ear to ear at the other end of the store, sifting through dress racks. You regretted coming with him and probably should’ve asked—well, anyone else. Maybe Rosie for help.
But you could tell he was having way too much fun.
“Ah-ha! Now this—” He turned around, holding up a vintage, puff-sleeved, polka-dotted nightmare straight out of the 1920s. “—this has character!”
You wrinkled your nose. “Okay, first, it has way too much fabric. I’d suffocate in that thing. And second, I don’t want to look like I belong in the Haunted Mansion. And third the polka dots-"
“Oh, pish-posh! You modern girls and your lack of appreciation for timeless elegance.” He placed a hand over his heart as if your rejection of his taste had truly wounded him.
You sighed again and held up another dress—something sleeker and more stylish. “This is what I like.”
“My dear, I must say… that lacks a certain flair,” he said with a slight tilt of his head.
“You mean it lacks your flair,” you teased, stepping closer. “Not everything has to be vintage, Al. I like modern fashion.”
Alastor let out a dramatic groan, still grinning, a hand over his heart like you had mortally wounded him. “Oh, the tragedy! My dear, your taste is simply tragic!”
You smirked. “And yet, you adore me anyway.”
Alastor huffed and straightened his tie with a reluctant grin this time. “That I do. Fine, wear your drab little dress—but I’m choosing the accessories. And ONE dress.”
You narrowed your eyes. “One. And no polka dots.”
His grin widened. “Oh-ho, deal~!”
You regretted it again. Because fifteen minutes later, Alastor held up a deep red, dramatic ball gown with layered tulle, embroidery, and enough vintage detail to make it look like you had stepped out of a 1920s film.
“Alastor—”
“Try it on!”
With a groan, you snatched the dress from him and disappeared into the dressing room.
…And you hated that it actually looked stunning.
When you stepped out, Alastor’s grin softened into something more… admiring. His eyes took you in, the usual mischievous glint giving way to something else. Something warm.
“Well?” you prompted.
He chuckled, stepping closer. “Ah, darling, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up, Al.”
But as you turned back to the mirror, you couldn’t deny it—you looked amazing. And for all his dramatics, Alastor did have an eye for fashion… even if it was a century out of date.
Once you got changed back, you glanced at the price tags on both dresses.
Oh, sweet Satan.
You winced. That many souls?!
Peeking at the modern dress you had picked, you did some quick mental calculations and nearly choked. Both together cost more than your entire wardrobe combined.
You slowly turned to Alastor, who was grinning at you like a cat that had caught a particularly juicy canary.
“Al… I don’t think I can justify spending this much on two dresses,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “I mean, they’re beautiful, but…”
“Nonsense, my dear!” He waved off your concerns, his smile unwavering. “You deserve to look like the queen you are! Besides—” He took the dresses from you and practically waltzed over to the counter. “—I insist.”
You nodded, wondering if he even had money and how he planned to pay.
You followed him hesitantly, already dreading the total as the cashier rang up the dresses. You nearly had a heart attack when the final price popped up on the register. You had calculated correctly, unfortunately.
Alastor, however, didn’t bat an eye. He simply leaned forward, resting his hands on the counter as his grin widened, his teeth flashing unnaturally sharp. The air shifted.
The poor cashier, a meek little demon with trembling hands, gulped as static crackled faintly in the air. Their fingers hovered over the register, hesitant to even breathe too loudly. You felt kind of bad for them.
“Sooo,” Alastor drawled, his voice dipping just enough to send a chill down your spine. “How about we… reconsider the price?”
The lights flickered.
The radio distortion in his voice deepened, low and spine-chilling. The cashier’s eyes darted around nervously before they let out a shaky laugh. “O-Oh, y-you know what? Haha! I just remembered there’s, um… a promotion going on today! Yes! A very generous one! And you, sir, and your lovely lady here, are in luck because, um…”
Their hand smashed the register’s button, deleting the total.
“…THE DRESSES ARE ON THE HOUSE! FREE OF CHARGE!”
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Excellent!” Alastor clapped his hands together, his usual cheerfulness returning as he grabbed the bags. “See, wasn’t that easy?”
The cashier gave you a desperate look that screamed take the dresses and RUN.
You did not argue.
As you both stepped out of the boutique, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, glancing at Alastor with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“You literally just terrified someone into giving us these for free,” you deadpanned.
He let out a hearty chuckle. “Oh, darling, don’t be so dramatic! It was merely a friendly negotiation!” He turned to you with a grin, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Besides, you look absolutely stunning in both of them. And isn’t that what truly matters?”
You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet, you love me for it.” You did.
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perictione00 · 1 year ago
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Daddy's best friend
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Pairing: Sukuna x reader
Warnings: MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, cheating, age-gap relationship, choking, oral sex.
Synopsis: When your wedding day guest list carries an unexpected twist, will you choose loyalty or be consumed by the forbidden echoes of your past?
Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist
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You had returned to your parents' house, eagerly preparing for the grand union with your true love. Daddy, the cheerleader of your journey into wedded bliss, was beaming as he had always dreamt of watching his only daughter start a family of her own. 
You had planned a humble wedding with an intimate crowd to keep things simple and affordable. Yet family ties dictated a broader invitation, including your parents' extensive network of family and friends. Enter Ryoman Sukuna, your dad's BFF—or, as fate would have it, the charming fellow with whom you shared more than just pleasantries.
Well, in short, it could be said that you were freshly out of college, and one day you happened to bump into a single, gorgeous, hot guy with a fat cock at one of your father's gatherings. You made it obvious to him how bad you were for him. One thing led to another, and the encounter escalated into a series of rendezvouses within the familiar walls of your parents' house, basically fucking in each and every corner. Alas, morality's sudden awakening prompted a parting of ways, leaving you with a wedding day guest list that carried an unexpected twist. However, with the impending wedding day drawing near, time grew more precious, leaving no room for distractions or second-guessing, and within a blink of your eye, you were standing on the stage of a pre-marital celebration in a hall full of people.
Standing in the corner of that very hall was Sukuna, who found himself feeling strangely consumed by the flames of his own regrettable choices. In a cruel twist, he became the architect of his own folly, a spectacle he never imagined. He remembers how he left you crying in order to hide the unconventional and forbidden relationship he shared with you. It was after his conversation with your father about your future and your marriage that he realized the significance of his actions. But today, the familiar sparks of possessiveness ignited inside of him after encountering your soon-to-be husband, who seemed like a person who deserved you. How could anyone have the privilege of having you when you already belonged to him?
"Tell me, Sukuna, have you ever seen a more beautiful bride than my sweet daughter?" Your father asked passionately while introducing your fiance to his friend.
"She's the most beautiful one, indeed." Even after the passage of years, a solitary word from him still had the power to leave you feeling weak in the knees. It was undeniable—he had aged like a fine wine, retaining the timeless allure you remembered. The way he appraised you with that tempting glint in his eyes didn't escape your notice. Nor did the subtle shift in his demeanor when you introduced your fiancé. Uncertain if you were reading too much into it or if reality mirrored your imagination, the nuances didn't elude you.
Once the festivities concluded, you, along with your family and fiancé, returned home, only to discover that your father had invited Sukuna over for a drink. Attempting to dismiss it from your thoughts, you went to bed. However, as silence enveloped the house with everyone asleep, you discreetly ventured out of your bedroom, yearning for a fleeting encounter with your former lover.
You were pulled into the dimness of the guestroom as a set of hands enveloped your waist, drawing you further into the shadows. Sukuna, slightly drunk yet eternally gorgeous, wordlessly guided you. No verbal exchange occurred; instead, you both surrendered to an instinctive, passionate, and hunger-laden kiss. 
Pausing briefly to catch your breath, you both swiftly started undressing each other frantically. A deep groan escaped him as you tugged at his boxer briefs, unveiling his already eager arousal and laying bare his unmistakable intentions.
Feeling a hint of arousal yourself, you couldn't resist the urge to wrap your fingers around his erect shaft. A long, wet stripe up the underside of his cock, accompanied by the familiar taste and scent, led you to slide his length into your mouth. Sucking on the sensitive opening just the way he liked, you hollowed your cheeks, sensing Sukuna losing composure. He took control, gripping your hair tightly as pleasure clouded your senses. With a swirl of your tongue and a series of slurps on the thick veins of his cock, his loud moans spurred you to take all of him into your mouth, delving into a deepthroating rhythm. Sukuna lost it when his eyes met yours and started violently bucking his hips, choking you, and controlling you in the best possible ways, like he always used to, coming undone in the warmth of your mouth. You moaned at the taste of his cum, desperately swallowing all of it.
Sukuna had realized that, no matter what moral obligations fogged his views, he would always long for all of you. He remembered the countless times he jerked off to your old nudes, the way your thoughts would take over his mind during lonely, cold nights, and the way he could only ever want you to satisfy his wants. Regardless of how forbidden this relationship was, he would do it again. He would relish in your taste every afternoon like he used to; he would fuck you in your parents' room like he used to; hell, he would fuck you right in front of them if he has to. There's no stopping now.
Laying you down on the bed, he began to spit on your cunt, pulling out a condom from his wallet only to throw it away. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds. "I'll take you raw tonight."
"Ahh-fuck me, Kuna." You respond desperately, casing him to plunge himself into you, every inch inside of you within seconds. He stretches your cunt out and begins to thrust rapidly in and out of you, not giving you any time to adjust. His one hand goes down to abuse your clit and the other wraps around your throat, choking you, earning a moan out of you.
You pull him into a suffocating kiss, all the while your hands claw down his back. The way your cunt wrapped around him, sucking him in so tightly, and the way your hips eagerly matched his pace encouraged him to rapidly thrust in and out of you. His merciless thrusting and choking had you gasping for air, and with a few more strokes along your walls, he felt you cream around him.
Your vision blurred as you came with an animalistic moan of his name, causing him to lose every ounce of self-control and milk every string of his cum inside of you.
You lay there, catching your breath, letting the guilt of your actions to settle in, but it never does. Instead, you went for a few more rounds and a few more after that before finally parting ways.
"Sukuna, what am I gonna do?"
"Marry him, but make me the happiest man on earth."
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Note: It's okay to simp for fictional older men but in the real world please take caution, they have greasy hair everywhere (just a friendly reminder).
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loviingpedri · 1 year ago
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could you write something like lazy mornings with marc guiu?
sunshine - marc guiu
prompt: a break from the world with him
warnings: grammar issues
credits to owners for all images
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the sun peeked at you from the window.
his arm wrapped around you to keep you from going anywhere. finally a day off where quality time was the top priority. you wanted every morning to be just like this.
“good morning.” he spoke to you in his very low and tired voice.
“buenos días.” the bed was so comfortable, you hardly wanted to get up. marc sat up and rubbed his eyes. he looked at you before leaving to the bathroom.
the bed wasn’t comfortable anymore. it felt emptier when he left. following him, it was definitely time to brush your teeth.
sitting on the counter while brushing, marc almost fell asleep again. the way his eyes look at you with such admiration, you refused to look at anyone else’s eyes except his.
“what do you feel like eating for breakfast?” one thing about him, he had an appetite.
“anything you want. maybe it’s time to clear the fridge?” nodding in agreement, it seemed like a perfect day for pancakes.
getting the ingredients out as birds chirped in the backyard. it felt timeless.
making the batter, you knew you forgot something.
“y/n, did you put chocolate chips?” marc loved your chocolate chip pancakes. it was quite famous among barca since he would always rave about it.
“i almost forgot. you wanna pour it in for me while i get the pan hot?” he gently poured the chocolate, maybe even going overboard. who could blame him?
cooking the pancakes to perfection, it was finally ready. marc cut up fruits to have a “healthy balance” in the meal.
seeing his eyes glow in the sun, the day was already perfect. he was your sunshine forever.
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gremlin-girly · 6 months ago
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Flufftober Day 15
Double Prompt: "What are you wearing?" / "It's Laundry day!" + "Yes. No. Maybe."
Pairing: Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader
Warning/Tags: FLUFF, allusions to sex/innuendo at the very end, established relationship, petnames (sweetheart)
Summary: It's laundry day and you whip out your handy cosy outfit you wear when Steve isn't around. However, Steve comes home early...
Word count: 879 words
A/N: Hello! I am currently in Wales for the week so my future posts will be via mobile rip I've just had a 6.5 hour drive I am not ok
also, this one is inspired by the fact I have one of these <3- Love, Grem x
Prev | Next | Masterlist
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How you'd managed it, you never knew.
Keeping an item of clothing expertly hidden away from your boyfriend to save yourself an embarrassing conversation was nothing short of a miracle in your shared apartment. However, when Steve Rogers was busy playing Captain America elsewhere in the world, it came out. Especially on cold days such as this and when there were no clean clothes (who are we kidding ? Pyjamas) left to wear.
Today was laundry day and Steve was away on a mission. Which meant one thing; out came The One.
You waddled to the kitchen grasping the overflowing washing basket, dumping it unceremoniously into the middle of the kitchen to better pile the washing. Four distinct piles later (whites, colours, darks and delicates), the first load of washing went on. You stood and watched the machine grumble to life, slowly pushing the clothes in lazy circles. With a heavy sigh you padded back into the bedroom and began the tedious task of stripping the bedding.
A simple pleasure in life was clean sheets. Soft, clean cotton smelling like it had been dragged through a field of spring flowers made the effort of stripping and re-assembling the sheets worth it. Even if they wouldn't stay clean for very long. Regardless, your boyfriend would be appreciative (if he noticed before he collapsed into the bed as per usual after a long mission).
Bedding stripped, and feeling slightly sweaty, you headed back to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. You wondered about Steve and how his mission was going as you idly sipped at your glass. Long missions were always a pain since Steve couldn't talk at regular times, meaning you were often left wondering what kind of state he was in. Though, worrying yourself silly wasn't an option.
Shaking your head trying to rid yourself of thoughts of your blue-eyed, blond bombshell, you pulled out your phone and started up your cleaning playlist. You may as well continue to be productive after all! First, kitchen counters were wiped down with swaying hips. Then, the fridge was deep-cleaned with off-key singing. Then the trash taken out and so on, to the sound of your off-key voice and occasional dance move.
By the time you'd snuck back into the apartment (after dodging your nosy elderly neighbour near the stairs) the washing was done. Bending down to collect the damp laundry and belting out lyrics to a timeless tune of ABBA's, a familiar voice spoke. Startled you drop the clean clothes with a squeak, spinning to see who had entered.
"What are you wearing?" Steve chuckled from the kitchen doorway. He was dressed casually in T-shirt and jeans, holding his kit bag. He had come back from his mission early.
He had come back from the mission early.
" I –" You begin realising you had been caught red-handed and red-faced. " It's laundry day!" You say, two octaves higher than you wanted.
Steve bites back a grin as he looks at you stood in the middle of your kitchen in a Captain America onesie. It was the retro costume, bright cerulean blue, red and white. There was even a hood with the wings embroidered on. Not to mention the zipper that was his shield. It was too big for you but you looked cosy and cute.
"Okay..." Steve finally says slowly, raising an eyebrow as you cover your face. You're too cute. "Have you been hiding this from me, Sweetheart?"
You shuffle your feet. You wanted to combust on the spot. You wore an arguably cuter version of your boyfriend’s damn costume and he's found you in it.
"Yes. No... Maybe." You mumble from behind your hands. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon."
"Thought I'd surprise you." You can hear the smirk in Steve's voice and it only makes you feel more flustered. "Looks like you beat me to it."
"I can explain," You say quickly but as you move your hands away you can see that Steve is chuckling at you. Your heart hammers as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. You sigh, defeated, and give him a quivering, embarrassed smile.
Steve drops his bag and strides forward, wrapping his strong arms around you and kissing the top of your head.
"You look amazing as always." He teases.
"Shut up." The feigned huff of annoyance isn't lost on Steve and it only makes him smile wider.
"I mean it," He leans back to look down at you with his goofy grin. He gently brushes a wisp of hair out of your eyes. "This is a nice surprise to come home to.”
You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight, resting your head against his chest. "Har har, very funny." You look up at him and feel yourself grinning. "I'm glad you're home."
"Glad to be home... but aren't you hot in that?" Steve's brows furrow at you. The material is plush and thick, there's no way you wouldn't be boiling. Steve fiddles with the shield zipper between his fingers, wondering where did you buy this from.
"I uh..." You give him a sheepish smile. "Only have underwear on underneath."
Steve eyebrows shoot up and he gives you a playful grin. "Oh, this is definitely better than my suit."
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ignoct-week · 2 months ago
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IGNOCT WEEK 2025
March 23 - 30
Ignoct love is timeless...join us to celebrate our beloved King and advisor!
EVENT TLDR
Check out the daily prompts for ideas!
Starting March 23, share anything Ignoct, Ignis and Noctis
Use #ignoctweek in your post
Tag the event account (list below)
Include any applicable content warnings
CONTENT GUIDELINES
Both SFW & NSFW interpretations are allowed for all Ignoct Week prompts. Please include a content warning if your work contains any of the following themes:
Underage
Non-con
Graphic Violence (Exceeds canon-typical violence)
Additional tags at creator's discretion.
Click here for the prompt list and complete event information.
EVENT ACCOUNTS
Carrd • Twitter • ignoctweek Bsky • ignoct-events
See you soon!
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blooming-violets · 1 year ago
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I was looking your post about "Location based smut prompts", I really liked the possibilities of "Nature > 1 - sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic". So I decided to be sassy and ask you to develop it, for our joy 🫦
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Stormy Skies || TASM Smut
[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]
WC: 1k
General Warning: Don't have sex in a meadow during a storm. You will get struck by lightning and die.
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The distant rolling of thunder rumbled through her chest and reverberated around her bones. 
There was a warm, summer breeze in the air that carried on its back the earthy smell of rain. 
Peter insisted that the skies wouldn’t open up but she was beginning to doubt his confident claims.
Long, green grass swayed and danced around the oasis of their blanket raft like tumbling ocean waves.  
The oncoming storm echoed their own building desires. Firm hands rolled up her arms, cresting over the dip of her shoulders, and ticking behind her neck to draw her closer. Mocha colored eyes with caramel swirls gazed deep into her own, letting her know exactly what he was thinking without having to speak a word. 
She wasn’t sure. 
Her eyes glanced up to the stormy skies above them. 
“Shh,” he soothed her worries. “We’re safe.”
“But if lightning- oh.”
His hands slipped up her dress as he leaned over, pressing her into the soft blanket, and quelling her thoughts before they could finish. 
With Peter nestling his hips between her thighs, worry blew away in a gust of summer wind.  
She could taste fresh watermelon on his lips as her tongue traced along them. She sought out the flavors of their lunch. Slices of juicy watermelon. Homemade lemonade. The slight saltiness of potato chips. 
His large hand engulfed her breast over her dress. Cupping it in his palm. Rubbing his thumb over her nipple until he could feel it tighten and push out against the fabric. 
He slid her strap down her shoulder so he could pull down the dress enough to capture the waiting bud in his sweet lips. 
Her eyes sought upwards to gaze into the graying heavens while he nursed at her breast. 
A cool, fat drop of rain fell down.
Landing on her forehead. 
Rolling down the slope of her nose. 
Soaking into the warm skin of her cheek. 
Tension rippled down her spine and bloomed a hunger of desire. 
She wanted to be one with nature. 
Soaked in its glory. 
Engaging in the most natural, timeless act two beings could do. 
Nothing else mattered but making love to Peter while the storm grew around them. 
Those fingers brushing against the thin cotton fabric, stroking along her wettening slit, teasing over her eager clitoris. 
Little strokes. Awakening her body. Deepening her breaths until she was nearly gasping. 
His hot mouth, still tending to her breast with nibbling kisses. 
Her hands tangled in the mess of his chestnut hair. Tugging at him. Pulling him back up to her face so she could shower him with kisses of her own. 
Tongues colliding. 
Watermelon and salt. 
Hints of sweet lemon. 
He only broke the passion of her kiss to tug down her underwear. Unzipping his jeans and pushing them down to his knees. 
She wanted to reach out and touch him. Take him into her mouth. Feel him in her hand. 
But Peter was too hot. 
Too needy. 
Her thighs fell to the side, accommodating the weight of his body between them. 
Light, cool raindrops tickled her face.
The sky was starting to leak. 
Letting go. 
Joining them in their building desires. 
Peter pressed his forehead against hers. Blocking her from the drizzle. Gazing with a burning love into her eyes. Watching her intently as he led his cock into its favorite home. 
She nearly cried out when he impaled her. Slow and true. 
Her eyes widened, back arching, mouth opening into a silent gasp. 
His arms wrapped around her head in a protective embrace. 
Forehead nuzzled to hers. 
Lips seeking her skin. 
Reassuring kisses. 
Soft whispers of love. 
Her hips rocked against him. It was impossible to stay still with him inside of her. 
Waves of pleasure rolling up her back and warming her stomach, mimicking the feeling of rumbling thunder over head. 
The torrent of sensations electrifying her skin. 
Creating her own lightning from her body. 
Dark skies opened up. 
Rain flooded from the heavens. 
Drenching through Peter’s hair. Plastering it to his face. Soaking through his clothes. Seeping into the blanket under her. 
He acted as her personal umbrella. Keeping her as dry as he could with his body. 
Thrusting of hips. 
Cries deafened by claps of thunder. 
Colliding together in an explosion of undying pleasure. 
One with mother earth. One of the grass and clouds and rain. 
Making love in the meadow. 
Her body swayed in rhythm to every moaning breath, every gasping inhale, every rumbling of thunder in the distance. 
Lost in a storm of passion. Her thoughts coming and going like flashes of lightning. All she could feel was Peter and the rain. 
Pure desire coursing through her veins. 
Her Peter. Her love. Treating her to the most beautiful human experience she could imagine. 
Better than a dream. 
Her world began to move. Shifting. Trusting him with her soul. Her body. Everything she had to give belonged to him. To take as he pleased. 
He would treat her right.
He would love her like a man was meant to. 
Her shoulders flexed as the tension built. 
An unstoppable march like the rain cascading around them.
Pushing her to an animalistic, wild freedom. 
Growing. 
Climbing. 
Reaching. 
A tempest of raging rain and thunder twisting her insides where they connected. 
She almost wanted to fight it. Afraid to let the moment fall from her grasp. 
Wanting to live in this building moment of bliss for the rest of time. 
But there was no stopping a lightning strike. 
“Peter!” 
His name was magic on her lips. Her saving grace. The one and only name she called out when she was at her lowest or highest. 
The only name there ever was, ever needed to be. 
The most perfect name in all of human history. 
Peter. 
Her body shook. Her voice breaking into a staggered cry. 
Explosion moved her stomach as it scrunched inward and stretched back out with her aching spine. 
Uncontained energy. 
Melding with the claps of thunder and breaking free as a white light of cracking electricity lit up the blackened sky. 
She was the lightning. She was the thunder. She was the impending storm. 
She was the soothing rain cooling her back down, keeping her mind from getting lost, tethering her tightly to her lover. 
Peter was kissing her cheek. Gliding down her jaw. Nipping at her ear. 
“Beautiful,” he murmured against her heated skin. 
He loved her orgasms. Loved making her feel everything. Loved watching her unravel. 
Loved her. 
His hips were still moving though his pace had slowed to let her recover from her shaking orgasm. He was waiting for her to finish before he even dared to attempt to receive his own pleasure. 
Always her first.
Her sweet, wonderful Peter. 
She shoved his shoulder, rolling him onto his back so she could take control. 
She straddled his hips, rising above him like a goddess. 
Her hair tossed around her face as the wind picked up. The rain soaked through her dress, leaving it nearly see through, letting Peter see the swell of her round stomach and outline of her breasts. Dark, shadowed nipples poked out against the wet fabric, leaving him hungry to suck upon them.
But she denied him that gift like he denied her the taste of his cock. 
It was his turn to become one with the storm. 
She came down to grind him into her. 
Rolling her hips along with the thunder. 
Sinking as deep as he could go, connecting them once more. 
Peter’s head fell back, his eyes rolling to a close, and his lips parting into a pant. 
His hands reached up to grab hold of her hips, needing to feel her in his grasp. 
The scent of wet dirt filled her nostrils and she breathed it deeply into her very soul.
She knew him better than anyone. She knew he was close. 
She worked him with her hips, doing her best to squeeze onto him with her clenching walls. 
Riding above him in the pouring rain while a storm raged on made her feel powerful. 
Like she could do anything. 
Be anyone. 
This was her world and she was the master of it. 
Peter’s tiny cries and whimpers fueled her own power. 
“That’s it, baby,” she cooed down at him. “Cum for me. Fill me.” 
He whined and his hips began to buck with frantic, jerking thrusts. 
She couldn’t tell if those were tears or rain drops running down his cheek so she leaned down to kiss them away, offering him all her love. 
His arms wrapped around her back to hold her closer, stilling her in place with an iron clad grasp, and taking over the brunt of the thrust work to get himself exactly where he needed to be. 
His orgasm was nearly as powerful as her own. 
Pulsing into her, filling her, flooding her with warmth. 
“Oh, yes, Peter,” she cried. 
She worked her hips the best she could against him with his arm holding her in place at his chest. 
Desperate to keep his orgasm going for as long as she could. 
Lightning lit up the sky once more. 
Followed by a crack of ear splitting thunder directly overhead.
As if on instinct, Peter tucked her into his grasp, and flipped her under him, shielding her from any potential threats. 
Worried eyes blinked down at her, only to soften once he caught sight of her gazing back up at him with a humored love. 
They both broke into a chorus of laughter. 
His fingers traced along her temple, brushing back wet hair, and leaving soft kisses in its place. 
“I think we should get back to the car before we die,” he whispered, stealing one last kiss from her lips.
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Remember!
If you've read to the end then you've got to do your part and reblog! Writers write for you and you reblog for us. That's the way tumblr works.
Reblog, reblog, reblog.
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midnight-mourning · 4 months ago
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He’s a Little Confused but He's Got the Holiday Spirit
Hello! As the title implies, it's time for this to become a fic, for those that don't know, I wrote a prompt response that's basically a christmas au of confused spirit (curtosey of @divinit3a) and it was so good that I decided to make a full fic for it. this post contains the basic info of the fic, some lovely designs brought to life by Pom and will include links to each chapter as it posts ^_^
There's also a little poll at the end to vote on the title if you'd like to participate~
The Plot:
You're a blacksmith/animatronic technican in a small, mountain village, known far and wide across the kingdom for it's holiday decorations and delight. So much so that the royal family themselves visit yearly to partake in the festivities.
However, due to some recent threats and strange has happenings, there's much more security this year, and among that security is two royal guards who seem keenly interested in keeping you from investigating too far into the matter. And you, they're also interested in you.
The Characters:
Y/N - You! With the same personality, motivations, and goals as Y/N from Confused Spirit, and with a similar job as well. You run a shop in town with a small team of smithies, tinkerers, and inventors at your side. (I don't have a design currently but imagine a the most androgynous blacksmith/medival peasent outfit ever <33)
Sun & Moon - The two guards that have been meddling in your affairs. Though, given they've been a surprising help with your siblings, you can't say much. Also with the same personalities, and characteristics as Confused Spirit. However, they're motivations and goals are different and do not reflect their CS counterparts. Meaning, anything discovered about these two does not apply to or justify any actions taken by them in CS. Designs below are by Pom who brought my vision to life <3333
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The Shop Crew - the parts & infastructure team from CS! with an adjustment here or there :)
Melissa & Gabriel - Your siblings. Still adorable. And still a menace.
All others - You'll just have to see :) There is some overlap from CS, such as Abby as some already know, among many more
Where to read:
I'll be posting these to tumblr & ao3! Tumblr first/only (until I can think up a title) but then I'll also have it on ao3 for better reading bc these will be long chapters.
Speaking of, there will be seven chapters total, including the one I've already posted!
Timeline:
Honestly want to tell y'all i'll be sharing a chapter every day or so, but after the disaster that was me last week with feeling unwell and getting behind, I'll just say, she'll be posted completely hopefully before my break is over 😅
Title (and tagging):
While I admit it WOULD be funny to just name it Holiday Spirit, I'm gonna let y'all decide for sure. I'll leave the poll up for a week since I'm not in a rush to post to ao3 (and I unfortunately doubt I'll have it done in a week lmao) everything related to it though will be tagged with #HS! au and #Holiday spirit au as the au is called Holiday Spirit, this is just for fun pretty much
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
https://www.tumblr.com/midnight-mourning/771893744939270144/2-animatronics-dancing-oh-and-you-youre-there?source=share (this is an inline link bc it KEEPS SHOWING SPOILERS)
EDIT: messed up the poll, so sorry >_< if you already voted and it said 1 day pls vote again shkjdf
Tag list for the usuals (if you would like added, see this post for more info):
@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8
@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles
@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva
@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml
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ghost-bison · 7 months ago
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Doctor Who: 1x08 The Satan Pit (2006) / 60th anniversary special 2/3 Wild Blue Yonder (2023)
I frankly love that parallel. One scene taken out of each of the two RTD eras.
First there's the colour palettes. You can see that they're polar opposites. RTD era1 was warm all the time as talked about in this post (which I love dearly, I keep referencing it in my posts), and then we have RTD era2, which has a more modern-looking, colder palette for science fiction.
But it's also a directing choice for the mood I think, cause on the one hand, we have Rose who, we all know, would even give up on seeing her mum again if it meant she got to spend the rest of her life with the Doctor (quite like Donna back in series 4 actually, who was very prompt to say she was going to travel with Ten forever). On the other hand we have Donna in 2023 who's now got a daughter and a husband and who hadn't even planned on doing a trip with the Doctor in the first place, let alone at the edge of the universe. I mean, they were just supposed to go see Wilfred! On one side we have Ten who's slowly recovering from the trauma of the Time War and falling in love for the first time in a while and re-learning that he deserves to be loved, too. On the other side we have Fourteen who, just as Donna put it, is "staggering", and as Fifteen said, is "running on fumes". He's got FOUR regenerations worth of trauma on Ten who was already struggling as it was with one (since the Time War I mean. Maybe two if we count Nine, cause who knows what he's been through between his regeneration and meeting Rose). Fourteen went through losing Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory, River, Clara, Bill, and he went through Pandorica, billions of years imprisoned by the Time Lords in his own personal hell, finding out about the Timeless Child, etc... and now, on top of everything, he's got to deal face to face with the guilt of what he did to Donna as she's been given back to him. Anyway, it's dark, when you think about it. No wonder the colours are so much colder in Wild Blue Yonder.
Then there's the music. In The Satan Pit, the soundtrack, The Impossible Planet, has a mystical quality to it. It's slightly creepy (I mean, it IS an episode about Satan), but it's mostly mysterious. Ten and Rose are only 500 years away from home. But in Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen and Donna are 100 TRILLION YEARS away from home. The soundtrack from that scene, The Edge of Creation, isn't just mysterious, it's eerie and ethereal and perfectly encompasses what it would feel like to stand somewhere so impossibly alien it has become supernatural (if you can't tell I am obsessed with that track and episode lmao).
I love the contrast between Rose and Donna and the questions they ask. Rose's question is cute, she's like "I've seen it in films, is that it?", it stems from a place of curiosity, like she doesn't really realize the deep shit that they're in. She's just a kid. Whereas Donna's question, it stems from a place of dread: "Where's the light?". It almost has a "The Licked Hand" quality to it (if you don't know that story: the girl is scared, she puts her hand under the bed, her dog licks it. She goes into the bathroom, finds her dog dead in the tub, and written in its blood are the words 'humans can lick too').
Then, finally, there's the order in which things have been done: in The Satan Pit, Rose remarks they're "a long way from home". Ten takes a long look at her, and seeing that she seems a bit scared, he explains to her how long it would take to get home. In Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen first explains to Donna how long it would take to get home, and only THEN, he takes a long look at her, and finally Donna says "that's my family, over there". It parallels Rose's sentence in the sense that they both talk about home and how far away it is, but they use different words for it with a different meaning behind. Donna is more specific on what she'll be returning to when it's over (her family), whereas Rose, who isn't as grounded as her, just says "home" (which, for her, probably just means the place she grew up). I also love the contrast between Rose's "a long way" and Donna's "over there". The first implies foreign, the second implies close enough to see. What's interesting about this bit is Donna is further away from home than Rose is, geographically speaking. But for Rose, Home is actually the Doctor, just him, so she has no problem saying she's "a long way from home" since she doesn't mean it in the same way Donna would. So for Donna, when she says "over there", it's because the Home she's talking about is closer to her heart, and she's probably trying to reassure herself that she'll see her family again (I used to do something like that when I was in primary school, I'd travel all the way back to my house in my head to kiss my parents on the cheek because I was so homesick).
So that's that I guess
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lancermylove · 1 year ago
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Pickup Lines (HC)
Fandom: Obey Me
Pairing: DB, Royals, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen with gn!Reader
Warning: Corny? Lol. Minors don't look under the cut.
Prompt: Which pickup lines would he use for you?
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Lucifer
"Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"
“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print."
"Are you a dictionary? Because you add meaning to my life."
Mammon
"Hey, are you a bank loan? Because you've got my interest, and I can't help but want to invest in you."
"If beauty were money, you'd be the richest person alive."
"If looks could buy, you'd bankrupt me in an instant."
Levi
"Are you a rare drop? Because ever since I met you, I feel like I've found the ultimate loot."
"Are you a cheat code? Because meeting you feels like I've unlocked a special power-up."
"If love were a game, you'd be my final boss."
Satan
"If you were a cat, you'd be a purr-fect 10."
"Do you believe in love at first chapter? Because ever since I met you, I can't stop thinking about the next page of our story."
"If you were a cat, you'd definitely have nine lives because one lifetime wouldn't be enough to spend with someone as special as you."
Asmo
"Are you made of diamonds? Because you shine brighter than any gem."
"Are you a mirror? Because when I look at you, I see the reflection of my dreams."
"If beauty were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence."
Beelzebub
"If you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple."
"If you were a cookie, you'd be a fortune cookie, because meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Are you a campfire? Because you're hot, and I want s'more."
Belphegor
"Are you a dream? Because every time I'm with you, I never want to wake up."
"Are you a cozy blanket? Because being with you feels like a warm hug."
"If sleep were a journey, you'd be the sweetest dream I've ever had."
Diavolo
"Are you a rose? Because just like its petals, your beauty is timeless and enchanting."
"If you were a kingdom, I'd gladly pledge my allegiance to you."
"Are you a royal decree? Because you've commanded my attention since the moment I laid eyes on you."
Simeon
"If you were a star in the sky, you'd be the most radiant one, outshining all the others."
"Do you have a map? Because I seem to have lost my way, and you're the only one guiding me towards the light."
"Are you a sunrise? Because every time I see you, you bring a new dawn to my day."
Barbatos
“I couldn't help noticing how captivating your smile is. It brightens up the entire room."
"Are you a puzzle? Because I'm intrigued by the challenge of figuring you out."
"If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber."
Solomon
"Do you believe in magic? Because ever since you walked into my life, it feels like you've cast a spell on me."
"Are you eternity? Because with you, every moment feels like it lasts forever."
"Are you a scientist? Because you've just discovered the formula to my heart."
Thirteen
"Are you a lost soul? Because you've wandered into the realm of my heart."
"If you were a dessert, you'd be the cherry on top of my day."
"Are you a cupcake? Because you're cute, sweet, and I can't get enough of you."
N.SFW/heavily suggestive under cut!
Lucifer
"Are you a teapot? Because I'd love to steep with you and pour out all my secrets."
Mammon
"Are you a stock market? Because every time I think of you, my investments just keep rising."
Levi
"Are you a controller? Because I'd love to be in your hands."
Satan
"Are you a book? Because I can't seem to put you down, and I keep wanting to explore every page of you."
Asmo
"Are you a work of art? Because I can't help but admire every curve and contour of your beauty, and I'd love to explore you like a masterpiece."
Beelzebub
"Are you a marshmallow? Because I want to roast you over my fire."
Belphegor
"Are you a bed? Because I'd love to climb on top of you."
Diavolo
Dinner first, or can we go straight for dessert?
Simeon
Do you want to commit a sin for your next confessional?
Barbatos
"Are you a baker? Because you've got some buns that I'd love to knead."
Solomon
I’m not feeling myself today. Can I feel you instead?
Thirteen
"Are you a rainstorm? Because you make me wet.”
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➣  Please visit my website for the full masterlist!
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