#so permanent isn't it but you can't quit him can you?

[kentocalls]

jiraiya | breadcrumbs nsfw. it’s a situationship but the good kind, i wanted to thank @actuallysaiyan for writing all those prompts. also the gif 🥵

he groans, crosses out the line that’s lived for only three seconds, the words dancing around his eyes, mocking him. he’s the renown author of the Icha Icha series. he can write, move his audience with his captivating comedy and well timed eruptions of emotions. but this, this piece of work is draining everything from him.

his cup is empty, his snacks gone. tense and frustrated he snaps his pen across the room. he could find something, someone to help take his mind off of it all. except he’s causes enough of a racket, his mission isn’t an easy one and he’s not exactly kept low key about his presence. it’s going to mean more paperwork and an earful from superiors and writing was supposed to help. the editor would be less person to yell at him. alas. the night is not in his favor.

the village is silent, most folks already asleep. he can hear cats fighting if he really tried but even then, his stares at the blank wall ahead. a flash of the prettiest lips fills his mind and he aches.

his mind trails after the confident, youthful, smart shinobi who had his knees gracing the ground with a simple ask. he doesn't know how it started, doesn't care where it goes, wants more. maybe there's enough clues if he looks for them, maybe his favorite has graced him with kindness and left a morsel.

enough is enough, he’s leaving tomorrow. the change of pace necessary, he has to keep moving. because who he’s seeking isn’t here and the mission is at a dead end too. t

he wind offers another pause from his thoughts, tempation, cool against his skin gentle, inviting. he closes his eyes, takes half a second to let his body relax, half a second to imagine it’s not the wind’s gentle caress but wait! he didn’t open the window, he wouldn’t this late and—

there’s your scent and something medicinal permeating the room.

you’ve always been fast. confidnet. slipping into unsavory places with ease.

making the most excellent shinobi and his worst habit.

by the time he’s done looking at the window your seated on his desk, writing pad in arms as your eyes trace over the latest pagse written. you’ve always loved spoilers, itching to know what happens before everyone else.

it makes him feel smug, after all these are fresh words, something exclusive only he can offer. gods, he’s missed your face, notes swollen lips and tired eyes, ignores the scratches near your chin. what you both do is dangerous, tedious, necessary. he won't ask because you can't tell. still the thought, did you rush over immedidately after a succes?

eyes rake your beautiful form spilling over his work desk.

your uniform has seen better days but he’s so so so pleased to see exposed skin. your legs look so smooth, nevermind new scratches and old scares greeting him.

he’s staring, gawking like an inexperienced brat, it would be embarrassing, you’d tease him endlessly for it, however, you’re so engrossed in his writing. swaying your legs softly, they dangle freely off the desk, and yet managing to cage him in. his palms reach up, kisses at a small cut on your knee, large palms soothing, fondling, massaging your thighs. itching to admire.

you’re here.

skin is hot, face is a bit flushed though you’re hiding it behind a stoic expression, eyes stealing more and more words. it’s not that long of a chapter, he sighs and pulls you closer, face nuzzling into your stomach, you can feel his kisses through your uniform. needy.

he’s usually wordy, jokey, loud. leaves no space for the outside world when it’s just you two, but right now he’s being such a good boy. you wonder how long it’ll last, the fact he’s being gentle and slow with his movements is trippy. especially when you know how tough he is, have seen him snap men in half so casually. flaunts his reputation, his height, his fame like he’s breathing but right now? letting you read unreleased, unedited writing?

letting you sit on his precious desk, your scent will drive him mad when you’re gone in the morning. he doesn’t have to be nice, could’ve easily stopped you from slipping into his room. taken you against the wall, you wouldn’t have protested. except he didn’t, he’s being the most gracious host.

that’s the only reason one of your hands plays with his long locks, eyes pulling away from his writing pad when your fingers, inevitably, tangle. “hair’s gotten too long.”

“to match yours.” he muffles, before leaning back and looking up almost innocent. like his hands aren’t squeezing and molding and clawing at your thighs. like his mouth isn’t kissing lower and lower, as if he isn’t inhaling that sweet scent that’s evaded him for months now.

you hum, spreading your legs wider, tilting your hips a little higher, his hands know what to do, moving to the waistband of your bottoms, “why’s this one so serious?”

“if you read the other two you’d see why.” he grins, a lazy hand drawing circles from your bellybutton down to your clothed sex and your hand snaps to his wrist with such power. “i like my uniform, i need it clean.” your glare sends shivers down his spine, you’d be mean for him if he asked right?

“and where are the other two?” he doesn’t want you to move, he doesn’t want to spend time playing writer and editor. he much rather gather more field experience, engaging in physical activities has always been his forte, he’s a hands on learner afterall.

crumbles the second your hand is patting at his cheek, pulling his hair and crashing your lips to his. it’s greedy, messy, hungry. you’ve been pent up too. the missions come one after the other and you’re such a high rank, all those secrets and no where to bury them — who knows the weight of all the pain you cary better than one of the legendary sannin?

it’s why you seek him out, over and over again

he doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t push and always pulls you close.

“i wanna…” he nips at your lips, stop distracting him, moves his hands under your top and up, squeezing, groping, pulling, “need too, ah, read the other two first.”

“you’ve worked hard enough,” finally your legs wrap around his hips, he lifts you up so easily, grips the back of your neck firmly, earning a moan, oh you need him, “let me take care of you.”

laying under him, he’s extra careful peeling your clothing off, aware your previous warning still hangs true. you’d take a kunai to his arm if he dirties another uniform. in another setting, he'd like that very much. but he's barely containing his urges, forces hands to work with extra patience, despite his pressing need making itself known. makes a haste of kissing, licking, biting, bruising what can be hidden. for both your eyes only.

you’re so pretty for him.

he tries to pace himself, tries not to get caught up in spite of all his reasoning to go slow he’s a frantic mess. hands clasping with yours, using one arm to hold both your arms above your head, you comply so easily, mouth open and wanton and how the fuck is he going to do all the things he wants to do if he can’t stop kissing you?

a hand snacks down your chest, pinching, fingernails lightly scratching before reaching your core and the gasp you make; drives him insane, let him be a little mean, a little rough, the sounds he makes deepening your need further. his own hips canting against your thigh and sheets.

part of him still doesn’t believe you’re here. that you're not an illusion. that he doesn’t need to wreck his brain and imagine the sounds slipping freely from your lips, that he can take you in with all his senses. have you falling apart in all the ways he knows you adore.

“pretty pretty thing…” he’s sucking and biting on your neck, sliding another finger in and the sloshing sounds cause your cheeks to burn. you want more, hips bucking up on their own, you want so much more but he’s breaking a rule.

“no ma-marks, jiraiya, don’t—“ silencing you with a heated kis, hand frees your arms, one to squeeze at your neck; it’s just enough pressure, how you like it; brain almost turning almost mush. but he’s pulls back, grins wide with a third finger in you now. you’re so wet, sounds absolutely filthy.

“let’s ruin ourselves for anyone else, yeah?” and fuck, he can’t say shit like that when you’re like this, body clenching around him. call it lust, call it longing, call it satisfaction whatever he has you chasing is where you want to go. the softest kiss on lips and he starts to trail down, praises and naughty things whipsered into your skin.

editing his draft can wait.

that’s not why you snuck in anyways.

[emphistic]

Bf!Sukuna who sometimes calls you 'girlfriend' — and not in a flamboyant way

"Girlfriend, c'mere."

"What do you want, girlfriend?"

"Sure, girlfriend."

Bf!Sukuna who loves having your lips on his; he'll just randomly come up to you and slot his lips against yours without a word

Bf!Sukuna who walks around the house shirtless, and teases you by saying, "You should try it out," only to get a pillow thrown at his head

Bf!Sukuna who would pause his video game just for you

Bf!Sukuna who is actually super clingy, and cannot function without having you in a foot radius — but will never admit it

"I'm going to go get groceries now."

"I'll come with you," he said, immediately standing up from the couch.

"I thought you hated errands."

Sukuna shrugged, "'m bored."

Bf!Sukuna who spits in your food when you're not looking

Bf!Sukuna who, when he can't sleep, will just stare at you — a few times, you've woken up to his creepy crimson eyes staring back at you, and you socked him in the jaw

Bf!Sukuna who claims to hate your music, but whenever you two are in the car, he'll always let you handle the aux

Bf!Sukuna who purposely forgets to do your laundry so he can see you be forced to wear his clothes instead

Bf!Sukuna who is the king of keeping eye contact

Bf!Sukuna who'll hover around while you do your makeup and just ask random questions

"What does that do?"

"Why the fuck is it shaped like that?"

"It's almost as big as my dick."

Bf!Sukuna who steals your things and raises them above his head where you can't reach just to mess with you

Bf!Sukuna who never gets cold, and while that may seem like a good thing in the winter because you have a personal heat generator, it is the absolute worst during the summer — you have to ban cuddling because Sukuna is just too damn warm

Bf!Sukuna who doesn't help you bring in groceries, even if your hands are full

Bf!Sukuna who ignores you for the rest of the day if you forget to give him a good morning kiss, or good morning text (if you guys are temporarily apart)

Bf!Sukuna who is good at everything he touches

— a/n: kinda irrelevant if you ask me, but I just had to include this

Bf!Sukuna who pretends to forget if you guys have planned a date together

Bf!Sukuna who gets a hard-on when he sees your angry face; he loves having you pull on his ear and drag him away to a secluded area to hear you yell at him — he thinks you sound so sexy and look so hot

Bf!Sukuna who isn't above doing extreme pda when he sees someone staring at your ass

Bf!Sukuna who whines about going to work, claiming it's boring, but in reality: he just doesn't want to leave you — or vice versa: he doesn't want you to leave for work

Bf!Sukuna who swears up and down he doesn't want kids and hates children, but when he sees you taking care of his little brother Yuuji, he finds himself doing a mental 180°

Bf!Sukuna who goes into a trance staring at your ass

Bf!Sukuna who has no purpose for an Instagram account: you forced him to make one — he never posts on there, but when does, it's only pictures of you and occasionally him and you

Bf!Sukuna who has a drum set in your guys' shared apartment, but refuses to play it for anyone but you, and even then, he only plays to annoy you or wake you up from your nap

Bf!Sukuna who permanently quit smoking when he saw you plugging your nose near him

Bf!Sukuna who enjoys chasing you around the apartment, sometimes with a knife in hand just to make you extra scared

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk (pls lmk if u only want to be tagged in my boy nextdoor series or all of my work) @lillycore

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.

CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

-Cums hards AND a lot.

-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.

-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.

-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.

-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.

-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?

-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.

-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.

-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.

Kyōjurō Rengoku

-Cums a lot.

-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.

-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.

-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.

-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.

-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.

-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.

-Will not ask. That'd be rude.

-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.

Enmu

-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.

-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.

-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.

-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)

-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.

-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-

-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?

-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.

-He feels like he's in the sun again.

-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.

Akaza

-cums like a horse.

-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.

-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.

-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-

-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.

-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.

-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.

-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.

-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.

[dark-konohagakure2]

If you can, I'd like something dark with gaara and breeding, like a breeding program to preserve the best of his genes.

tw: dub/noncon, power imbalance, breeding, mild misogyny, mating press, domestication, rough sex

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara has never given marriage and children much thought, he has his desires like any other man, but he largely suppresses them due to his busy life, but after Temari marries outside the village and has a son, a son that could one day become Kazekage, the demands for Gaara to have a child coming from the village elders get all the more frequent and insistent.

While Gaara already has a child, Shinki is his son by adoption, and the higher ups want a child of Gaara's own flesh and blood, initially Gaara doesn't really see the difference, to him blood doesn't define family, but he goes along with the demands regardless, albeit reluctantly.

When the fateful day comes and Gaara is to conceive his heir, he's initially reluctant and even somewhat nervous, a rare feeling for the stoic Kazekage, but when he actually sees the girl he's to breed with (who looks even more reluctant), Gaara's hesitancy fades away, he was worried he'd have to sleep with someone too young or too old, but when he sees that his partner is someone his age and beautiful, he starts to feel all the more eager.

He mostly ignores her cries as he gets on top of her, lifting her legs up next to her as he gets into a position that will ensure maximum deep penetration, but Gaara isn't heartless, and he'll reassure her if she's struggling and crying too much.

"Shhh, there now, it's okay. I'm sure you'll be a great mother for our children, I'm sure of it. Now stop struggling, or I might have to be more forceful."

Being both the Kazekage and a single father is very stressful job, and his rough thrusts will reflect his frustrations, his cock ramming down into her fertile cunt hard and fast, leaving her whimpering and quivering underneath the stoic redhead.

Gaara doesn't understand why she isn't enjoying it, he was under the impression that girls liked it rough, but she isn't liking it at all, in all his inexperience he wrongly believes that he's not being rough enough with her, and that's why she doesn't like it, so he'll pound into her even harder in response.

Once he finally does cum inside of her, which doesn't take too long due to his sexual sensitivity, Gaara makes sure that he's cumming directly into her womb, his body weight pressed fully down on hers as he groans quietly, his pent up seed filling up her insides.

Gaara won't stop his efforts to breed her even after he finishes inside her for the first time, he wants to ensure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he gets her knocked up, both to satisfy the demands of the elders and for his own desires, so he's going to cum inside of her until he can't anymore.

"There we go, good girl... You'll be a great mother, and a good wife too... Now, time for round two, I want my Shinki to have a lot of siblings..."

Gaara makes a mental note to sign some marriage papers as soon as he's finished, he initially thought that all he had to do was cum inside of her and be done with it, but he's found himself quite smitten with the woman underneath him, and plans to act on his newfound affection by making her his permanently.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

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Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

[agnesafterhours]

lavender haze | lee know. smut.

Your boyfriend is not prone to communicating his feelings through words, but luckily for him, you always know exactly what he needs. (1.9k words)

CONTENT: smut, boyfriend!lino, creampie, unprotected sex and cum eating. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.

Contrary to popular belief, Minho sulks often. You do understand why people would believe that isn’t the case—your boyfriend’s dry jokes followed by a sarcastic smile being one of the reasons why you were drawn to him in the first place. When you first met him a couple years back, when he was still doing busking events with his dance crew alongside a common friend of yours, you’d watch in doe-eyed adoration as he’d flash his bunny teeth in a playful grin to his crewmates each time they got one move slightly wrong. What pissed them off the most is they could never get back at Minho—he never forgot any moves, never missed a beat. His justifiable confidence made him oh so irritating—you were attracted like moth to a flame to his character, his knife-sharp features matching his equally piercing sense of humour were fuel to the fire. 

But the thing about your boyfriend's sulking is that it is often unjustifiable. Of course he doesn't need a reason to want to be pampered by you, but it'd be nice if Minho admitted he also likes to be taken care of at least once in a while.  

“What did I do to deserve this torture?” The ever so intimidating choreographer mumbles from his spot on your bed, your pastel pink pillowcases being a little counterproductive to the assertive tone he's been trying to use on you. 

Minho can’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips at your scoff, “Torture? I'm just asking you to wait! These bedsheets got here like, two weeks ago!” You're on your feet, struggling to fold one of the new huge linens to store in your closet. “If they stay in these bags any longer they're gonna start smelling weird.” 

“You know that's not how it works, right?” 

“I don't care. You know you should be helping me, right?” You look back, a smirk of your own automatically taking place when your eyes find his. 

Despite the lopsided smile that seems to be permanently plastered on his face, Minho grunts as he drags his body out of the comforter and towards you, “You know you should wash these before putting them away, right?”  

And as soon as your eyebrows raise and he sees the very familiar smile on your lips as you push the sheet into his arms, your boyfriend realizes he fell right into your trap, “Have it your way, then!” 

The man watches as you jump in bed, getting comfortable on the spot he previously was—eyes filled with the similar overwhelming fondness they usually hold when Minho looks at you. “You’re annoying.” He takes off the rest of the sheeting from it’s flimsy plastic bags, making his way to the laundry room. “Don’t fall asleep!” He exclaims from the hallway. 

“I’m not making any promises!” 

“Don’t sleep! I wanna spend time with you!” Unfortunately, no amount of stubbornness can take away Minho's super power of having you giggling into your pillow. He wants to spend time with you. He's the love of your life and he wants to spend time with you.  

Those are the feelings you can't quite understand. You’ve been with Minho for so long—at least long enough you've been through the “honeymoon stage” everyone seems to fear the ending of. For you, it feels like this stage never seems to be over. You pray it never ends.  

So here you are, kicking your feet because your long term boyfriend said he wants to spend time with you. At least you know he's as obsessive as you are, if not slightly more. 

Minho's way of showering you with love was overwhelming. He isn't the type to communicate his feelings through words, instead, he'd do things like casually tell you about getting into a rather serious argument with his manager, trying to get the day off so he’d spend your birthday with you. Of course he would be busy, cooking your favourite meal as he casually narrates the dramatics him and his group went through trying to get his needs respected. He doesn't look you in the eye when he says he got emotional, the only reason why his manager gave in being Minho “never behaved like this before”. This is his way of saying you're his utmost priority, can't you tell? The redness of his ears and fidgety eyes are a big hint of the nervousness Minho prayed you wouldn't pick up on. Unfortunately for him, you know him like the back of your hand.  

You know that a quick glance your way means someone said something he found amusing in a way. If his hand fell to your lower back in social gatherings, it means Minho is a bit nervous and needs some grounding. If he's too silent, you know to sit beside him and wait until it all comes pouring out. With you, it always does. If he's vocalizing how tired he is, you know he'd enjoy talking for hours on end about anything that comes to his mind. Minho always needs you, he just has very specific patterns to show you exactly what he's currently craving from you. Fortunately for him, he's your favourite subject matter. He's the only thing you ever want to pay attention to—the sole owner of your entire focus.  

That's why you know exactly what he needs when he flops back on the bed, and after a few moments of silence, blurts out “I miss you. I missed you a lot this week." 

You crawl out of your nest and straddle your boyfriend's lap, dragging your comforter along and covering you both with it.  

You're both silent as you hold his cheeks, taking your time as you kiss them, then his forehead, and the mole on his nose—at least a couple times each. Minho's hand slides down your lower back when your lips find his, tongue slowly tasting his as you feel his heart beating tranquilly against the palm of your hand sliding up and down his chest. You feel his right hand gently cupping the back of your neck, holding you close against him as the other sneaked under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare back.  

Minho doesn't try to take control of the kiss like he usually does—neither do you. Your bodies seem to move in harmony, the glacial movements of his tongue making you sigh against his mouth every now and again, promptly resulting in a smirk of his. You loved kissing his smile. 

“Missed you so much, baby.” He repeated softly against your lips. Minho now had both hands under your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps as he caressed up and down your sides.  

“Missed you too. Always miss you so much, Min.” Your breathing is a bit compromised now, hands moving on their own as you remove your own shirt.  

Minho quickly follows, his palms back on your hips as soon as his shirt is tossed to the side. “I know you do, pretty. I know.” 

His hands lay on your ass, groping as he whispers against your lips. “Spent the entire week thinking about fucking you. Gonna lay on your side for me, pretty? Hm? Gonna do it just how I like it?” 

Too much, too much, too much. You don't think you're really moaning anymore, but you're sure your mouth's been hanging open for a while. Minho’s hips are slow as he hits the deepest parts of you, holding your squirming body for a few seconds each time he bottoms out. The sweet, lazy drag of his cock inside you make your lust disable all of your senses. He felt heavy, thick, so deep inside you. Full. You felt so, so full.  

Somewhere in the haze you feel his palms making their way towards your chest, you process a bit of squirming as he squeezes them, massaging your breasts as he continued his torturously slow assault on your g-spot. 

Minho can feel every cell fighting against his urge to mount and pump into you as fast as he pleases, but he'd endure anything if it means he gets to hear your drawn out whines as he rocks his hips back and forth, your entire body shivering every time he pauses deep inside of you for a few moments.

He runs his hand through the goosebumps of your arms and back to your chest again. After feeling you up a bit more, your boyfriend takes your hand and drags it south as he presses on your lower stomach, making you feel him moving inside you. 

“You're feeling how good I fill you up, honey? Can you feel it?” His breathing is much more ragged now, Minho's body is visibly shuddering behind you as well. You squeeze around and him, bringing his hips to a stop. 

You look back, staring at his open mouth as you inhale each other's heavy breaths. As if snapped out of a trance, Minho kisses you roughly. He swallows each of your moans when his hips start swaying back and forth again, still as slow and rough as he was.  

His hand leaves yours as he reaches for your chin, spit dribbling down your lips. 

“So fucked out you're drooling for me. God, you're so good, baby. You take it so good.” 

“Holy shit, Minho! So close, so close, so close-” Your voice is no longer a whisper as it's pitch gets higher, your orgasm dangling in front of you in a fever dream. You feel him everywhere and it's almost too much, but certainly not enough. You're so overstimulated you don't know what to focus on to reach your high—both your senses and judgment so clouded you can't muster the brainpower to figure out what you need. 

Luckily for you, Minho knows you like the back of his hand. “I love you. Love you so much.” 

You can't tell how long it lasts, you're barely able to process Minho coming inside you. You feel the ghost of his hands holding your hips still as he whimpers in your ear—the sound alone making you shiver all over again. Your body shakes in his hold, limbs giving out after a prolonged orgasm you're not used to experiencing.  

“Love you too… Love you so much…” The words mindlessly escape your lips as your head slowly sways, fingers twirling the ends of your splayed out hair. 

Your eyes are closed as he lays you on your back, adjusting the pillow under your head as he chuckles. “Love you too, pretty. Hang in there just a second.” 

You feel his hands caressing your body as he handles you, a sixth sense making you chuckle when you realize he spread your legs but didn't start cleaning you up. 

His hands run down your thighs, you can hear the smirk on his voice. “What's up?” 

“Stop staring.” You say, humming with your eyes still closed. 

“Don't wanna.” You feel his fingers sliding through your core. “Mouth wide open for me, baby. Come on.” 

You sigh when you get a taste of his coated fingers, lips wrapping around as your tongue licks in between them. You open your eyes to find him hovering above you, eyes fix in your mouth. 

The look you give Minho makes him dizzy—the way you stare up at him with your big doe eyes in such adoration while sucking cum off his fingers almost made his heart burst. He can feel how each beat of it belongs to you, his heartbeat chained to a rhythm that followed your own.  

Chest to chest, Minho watches as your eyes sparkle, your hand softly stroking the back of his head. A smile forms on your lips when you pop his fingers out of your mouth as you breathily mutter against them. “You know I'm gonna marry you someday, right?” 

[chiliyue-archived]

Boom

↬ Things you unknowingly do that make his heart skip a beat.

Gender Neutral Reader

Characters; Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge

Riddle Rosehearts

Lip stick smudges - It was just an innocent kiss really but you decided to kiss him right after experimenting with makeup you found. And oh- it left a mark where you kissed him. To be quite frank, Riddle hadn't noticed it until someone pointed it out to him- to which he proceeded to barade you about public appearances and reputations and blah blah blah. He's a blushing mess at the embarrassment, but he can't help stare at it when in front of a mirror, his features betray him.

Telling him 'I love you' before bed. Love was still and will continue to be a mysterious feeling to the redhead. Being told I love you from someone he values(which in itself is astonishing for him to fathom) makes his emotions go haywire. Most of his nights are filled with his phone to his cheek, ears straining to catch any sound from you. Your voice easily lulled him to sleep regardless of what he was doing. And just as his heavy eyelids close to allow somber rest to flood his consciousness, his ears catches those lost few words that always made his heart swell. 'Good night, I love you'

Feeding him strawberry tarts and cherry pies. He would argue with a very prominent blush on his face that he can feed himself. Though despite what he says, he can't seem to deny you whenever you teasingly probe the silver fork towards his lips with the powered tart glistening in strawberry jam. 'Riddle you got crumbs on your cheeks' you would say with a playful smile. The pad of your thumb brushed over the spot, a focused expression growing on your face. And oh, he's gotten even redder. You imagine this won't be the last this happens.

Ace Trappola

Jumping into this arms. How it first occurred that's up to you to decide. The moment he sees you sprinting towards him, your voice beaming; 'here I come!' It coaxes a grin on his face without fail, his hands letting go of everything he's holding(even if its coffee). In many instances, the both of you topple over but that cheerful grin on your faces remains ever permanent as he presses kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Being able to be playful with someone he loves dearly is enough to make his heart swell.

The small little compliments. Although Ace builds himself to be tough in the face of any situation, sometimes those efforts can be overlooked. Telling him simple things such as, 'you look really good today' or 'your abilities are getting better' can go a long way for him. And his prior experiences with romances left him in a rather terrible relationship in middle school. He wants to do and be better, so tell him that he is. It will make him feel so much better about himself and fall more in love with you in the process <33

Squeezing his hand. It's a simple gesture compared to the other ways he conveys his love to you. But in public, he understands that such pda would be better reserved behind closed doors. Don't get me wrong, he isn't afraid to kiss you even if Deuce was 2 ft away. With your fingers interlaced with his, he feels within your presence at all times. Knowing your there beside him is a greater feeling than he may admit outloud. And when you squeeze his hand, whether fortuitous or not, it brings him that unsaid reassurance and drops of small tender feelings; a silent 'I love you' 😙

Jade Leech

Matching mushroom things. I believe this is quite self-explanatory. It combines two things that a bring a small grin to his face with little fail. His partner showing mutual interest into his fixations, which others may view as gross, brings a rather odd assortment of new emotions. His head would tilt to the side, brows raising as you held the two charms between your fingers. 'We can now match,' you would say, your voice betraying your shyness. It was such a small thing really, but he holds onto the charm and all other silly little items you bought him close to his chest. As peculiar it may seem to others, it means a thousand words to him.

Preparing him a cup of coffee every morning or when he's working. Jade has always had a role similar to a butler, not that he complains though. However, with having a large responsibility in managing the Monstro Lounge, he grows familar with tending to others needs and wants. And he can do so for many hours without break lest Azul wants the whole business to end in chaos. So when you start going out of your way to wake up early to pour him a cup of coffee, he was perplexed at frist. It was a minor gesture but it saved him additional time. Usually he was the one making you drinks and preparing to make sure your morning went smoothly as possible, so reciprocating it is something he greatly appreciates.

Sticky notes with cute messages. When you started placing the small sticky notes about his room and the lounge, it greatly amused Jade. On the small colorful papers you would write him little sediments and expressions of your affection for him. You even scribed some small reminders for him(though he hardly forgets) of important things he had to do and such, in which he is grateful for the added effort. Will never say it outloud unless you ask him specifically, but he stores all those little messages within a small box hidden within his room, returning to it from time to time. One time Floyd caught him reading those rather silly notes and noticed the ever small smile on his brothers lips

Jamil Viper

Having extra hair ties for him. Jamils hair is l o n g to say the least. And among the most busy of days, he can forget to properly tend it as he always does. Holding onto that extra hair tie does a lot for something that may be simple to another's eye. Putting in that additional care in order to lessen the hassle makes him blush and go all red. Even better if you help tie his hair, he melts within your touch when you gently card your fingers through his scalp. you might even be able to get away with some interesting hairstyles.

Reminding him to rest. He is so use to waking early and sleeping late in order to fulfill all of Kalims little needs. To say the least, he can be ran haggard and still have a magnitude of things needed to be done. This was the lifestyle he had became accustomed to unfortunately. So when you gently pried him away the kitchen and took him to get some quality rest, he was quite surprised. His face would flush when you press your lips aginst his forehead, like a parent to their child, bidding them a goodnights rest. His role of servant was deeply burned in his brain despite what his own ambitions had told him. Simply reinforcing those healthy habits, Jamil can feel more at ease. 'How did I get so lucky...' He would question during such moments as his languish body takes some rest.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes/face. With wild and long hair comes with many strands falling from his ponytail and coats over his eyes. To Jamil, this was minor inconvenience in which he has learned to deal with. He nearly jumped back when he first felt the pads of your fingers gently pry those loose strands from his eyes- his eye widen when you tuck it behind his ear. And oh dear- he's turning red now and his cheeks are growing unbearably hot. 'Are you sick?' 'No-' 'let me check your forehead' ' (●´□`)'. He comes to the realization that he is rather a bit touched starved, before his brain could even acknowledge it, he would be leaning into palm of your hand.

Malleus Draconia

Paper lunch bags. He feels so utterly spoiled when you make him lunch. Gobbles that up like it's his day alive and thanks you profusely afterwards. It could be something burnt, badly cooked or somewhat equivalent to Lilias cookings; he's so grateful. Shows said gratitude in the form of many kisses to your cheeks and lips. In his mind, Malleus is the one who's supposed to be spoiling you, you shouldn't be lifting a finger! But your deviation to him makes a lovely tingle in his hearts which ripples throughout his body. Bonus points if you leave cute little notes; like Jade, he'll store them somewhere safe- perhaps being even a little more protective of your small gifts.

Giving him kisses. He had always been the one giving you affection- both physical and verbal. But being the one kissed, he becomes absolutely smitten. Now Malleus is someone would much rather shower his partner in bits of romance and love at any moment. But being on recieving end leaves his heart bursting with a warm sensation, rare stutters falling from his lips as he ask for another and another. Adores when you shyly ask, 'May I kiss you?' Doesn't care if it leaves a bruise, he just want to be kissed by you and learn how wonderful love can be.

Nicknames. He's been alone for most of his time with the exception with the Diasomnia crew. He's been surrounded by couples, which he has observed from afar ways endearment is exchanged. Nicknames are perplexing to him, what makes an alternate versions of your name so appealing? He wouldn't really know until the first time you called by a nickname. It would catch him off guard but the effect would be long-term; a small smile, augmenting that tingling within his chest, and the want to adorn you in various terms of affection in return.

Lilia Vanrouge

Learning his native language. I would assume his culture would be greatly embedded with him considering he had fought in wars, been honored prestige titles and the held the responsibleility raising the heir. His mother language is by no means a simple thing to learn, just as any other dialect, it contains many rules which can easily frighten anyone whom are attempting to learn. And although you be messing up with pronunciations, and perhaps even called him a crow without much awareness, he appreciates the fact that you're attempting. Gives you many pointers and for each phrase said correctly comes with a reward of snuggles. Becomes a very proud bf when you're able to reply back to him in his language

Your teaseful remarks. Calling him old. Many students look at the bat fae with a perplexed gaze, underneath which holds judgment towards his many- er enthusiastic approaches you can say. He was known for sending chills out the backs of unsuspecting ongoers- being well regarded as an enigma. Though many of his playful gestures are scoffed at and ignored, you on the other hand play along with his silly quips and feign innocence as he teasingly messes with you. Only for you to pull a trick of your own that makes his cheeks warm up, he finds you truly amusing! May even refer to you as his partner in crime, or 'double trouble duo' either way, he loves to reciprocate those silly moments with you which you can both laugh about later.

Wearing his clothes. Lilia finds you truley adorable in all the outfits you pick out. Even a rather insipid uniform lacking much color seems entirely different on your form. And he finds you silly as you adorn his dorm unifrom, covered with unmatching fabrics and ends. He can't stop the chuckles that leave him when he notes the sheer size difference between you and his rather large coat framing your body. He notes the way the belts curved around your waist and looped down against your hip and how his gloves hugged your hands just right- and now he can't bring himself to drag his eyes away. He swears it looks cuter on you than it does him, may even pout and sulk in a teasing way that you outshine him. But he can't help but stare at you with a lovestruck gaze.

[akutasoda]

Heyeyey can I request boothill, Sunday and aventurine with a fem s/o who’s always on her phone? Like even when it’s charging or even when they’re cuddling she just has to be on her phone?

screentime overload

synopsis - how are they with a s/o who cannot put their phone down?

includes - aventurine, sunday, boothill

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns used), fluff, crack, wc - 721

aventurine ★↷

↪he can be a bit of a fifty fifty when it comes to his phone. normally the only time he uses it is for IPC relevant things, messaging you or ratio and if he's really bored, mindless scrolling. his work can keep him rather busy and so he doesn't exactly have the time to sit around all day.

↪so he found it quite amusing to a degree when he noticed how absorbed you were in your phone. it really didn't take long for him to notice how you practically treated it as a lifeline because no matter where you were your phone was near aswell - more accurately near to your line of sight.

↪it did bring him some comfort in knowing that you would always see his messages because he could always take an accurate guess that you were on your phone and able to respond as quick as possible.

↪however he did find it quite ridiculous that sometimes he'd find you curled up by your charger, phone still in hand. surely you had other things to be doing? maybe you're phone needed a break from you eventually?

↪it didn't bother him per say, but he would prefer it if, when he saw you after a while, that you actually make the effort to pry your gaze from your phone and to him.

↪sometimes he can be quite the menace, especially when, in the morning, you wake up and search for your phone but don't get very far as aventurine would have you in a near death grip hug.

sunday ★↷

↪definitely isn't a phone kind of person. sure he has one but it's mainly for work or managing the dreamscape and most likely only had a couple of actual contacts - yours and robins. he probably could go very happily without his phone.

↪and so he truly doesn't understand why you're so attached to yours. at first he thought that you probably had something going on that needed managing, but when he saw you day in and day out staring down at your screen, he got slightly worried and confused.

↪it baffled him that you could actually spend so much time staring down at that screen but eventually he started getting more concerned that you were causing permanent damage to your eyes. he's the type of person who would tell you about the damage phones can do to you when he sees you laser focused on your phone.

↪in a similar way, he does find a slight comfort in knowing that if he needs to reach you he can. the one day you don't actually get his messages and respond very quickly is the day he panics.

↪sunday isn't exactly the keenest when it comes to physical affection, but when he does come around and finally gets time off to spend with you, he does not want you on your phone for that. if you get unlucky he might start contemplating hiding your phone.

boothill ★↷

↪another fifty fifty. he isn't exactly literate and so any messages are sent via voice recordings and such, this also probably means that he doesn't spend that much time on his phone in general - especially as a galaxy ranger who has bounties to hunt instead.

↪that being said, his phone gets put through the wringer alot. it isn't exactly his top priority in keeping safe when on a mission, so he either loses it or it gets very badly damaged to the point that sometimes you can't even tell it was meant to be a phone.

↪so he did struggle a bit to to comprehend how and why you spent so much time on your phone. he only started getting annoyed when he realised that your phone was robbing him from your affection and time. boothill did once threaten to eat your phone.

↪he still finds it very ridiculous that you spend so much time in your phone, especially when he has caught you multiple times using your phone while it's charging or when you really shouldn't be.

↪but he doesn't mind too much as long as you actually still give him some affection and don't spend that time with your phone in hand again - especially when he gets time to return to you after hunting a bounty or two.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[fizzie-frog]

You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.

THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.

Moving on...

People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?

By prostituting himself. To the upper class.

That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.

Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.

He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.

He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.

And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.

And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.

Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.

And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.

They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).

And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.

So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.

Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Unfamiliar feeling

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.7K

SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the nurse team at the Compound, and you're assigned to take care of a certain grumpy super soldier and his wounds. You're treating him very gently and he's not used to this, but he welcomes the unfamiliar feeling nevertheless.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Light swearing.

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Read on AO3

''Y/n, some Avengers are coming in with serious injuries today, and you're assigned to treat Sergeant James Barnes. I will let you know beforehand, he can be a real dickhead when it comes to being treated, he usually doesn't want any help. Try your hardest to get him some help, otherwise, we just can't treat him anymore,'' is what your supervisor tells you. Even though you've been a nurse for nearly 15 years, you recently started your job as a nurse at the Avengers Compound since moving to New York. You've decided to trade in the California sun for the business of a city like New York, finally fulfilling your lifelong dream.

''Okay, I'll take good care of him!'' you say with your usual cheery voice and a fresh batch of enthusiasm, and your face is pretty much permanently supporting a smile. This is your first time treating an Avenger, up to this point you've only treated other agents, and the injuries weren't too severe so far. ''At what time will he arrive?'' you ask and your supervisor tells you he will be in room 7 in about 10 minutes, so you go and get the room ready for his arrival, mostly checking if all your supplies and instruments are there and ready to go, which they are. You tie your apron around your waist and put on a face mask as well as rubber gloves right before Bucky gets wheeled into the room.

You see him and quickly assess any visible wounds, which there are plenty of, they must have gone on a rough mission. ''Good afternoon Sergeant Barnes, my name is Y/N and I will be taking care of you today!'' you say and the enthusiasm is practically dripping off of your voice, making Bucky's heart skip a beat, he wasn't used to someone like you treating him. He just grunted in response, not able to talk because of a nasty wound on his face and jaw. ''It appears you had quite the rough mission, but you're still alive and that's what's most important right now,'' you tell him and you start looking him over gently.

''To do a full examination of your wounds, I do unfortunately need to take off your clothes. Shall I give you some more privacy by closing all the blinds? It will just be me in here with you, but if you're more comfortable with it I can find a male nurse to look you over,'' you offer and he points a finger at you, which you take that he is okay with you looking him over. He also gives you a thumbs up when you ask him if he wants some more privacy, he isn't used to someone asking him this, caring about his privacy - he hasn't had any for so long he doesn't know how to act in all honesty.

''First, I would like to examine your face, that appears to be a pretty nasty wound,'' you tell him, just looking at it. ''Can I touch your face, Sergeant? That way I can clean it with a bit of alcohol, which is probably going to sting pretty bad. I think we won't need to stitch it up, we could probably get away with some butterfly bandages,'' you tell him softly, not talking too fast to make sure he can follow what you're saying. He softly nods and you grab your tray with the necessary supplies to clean and bandage his face. ''Is it okay if I put this tray on your lap for easy access? If not, I can put it on the bed,'' you ask and he shakes his head, notifying me he's not comfortable with it.

''That's no problem, Sergeant, I will put it on the cart next to your bed so I can still reach everything I need. Thank you for being honest with me, it is already uncomfortable enough to be here,'' you say with a soft voice, and Bucky isn't sure why you're so gentle with him, but he is very glad that you are. This feeling is strange to him, and it almost makes him tear up a little, it has been so long since anybody asked him for permission to touch him, it sends a warm feeling through his veins, warming him up from the inside. You clean his face with the alcohol and he flinches at the feeling, so you immediately retreat and stop your actions, until he's ready to go on.

When he's all cleaned up, you softly apply a few butterfly bandages, he only needed 5 so that's not too bad. ''Alright, your face is all done, and I have to say, I have never seen anyone look this good with 5 bandages on their face!'' you say and he blushes, which makes you chuckle. ''Next, I would like to do an upper body exam, meaning I have to check your chest, stomach, arms, shoulders, and back for any injuries. I need you to take off your tactical gear for me to reach those places. Is that okay?'' you ask, and after a short moment of contemplation, Bucky softly nods, helping himself out of his tactical gear. You softly put it on the counter behind you, so he can take it when he's done.

There are multiple wounds on his chest, but they don't appear to be as bad as the one on his face. ''I have to clean the wounds on your chest, the same way I cleaned the ones on your face. Is that okay with you?'' you ask and he nods again, he is slowly getting used to being touched by you, it almost feels like he's getting touched by an angel. All he can think about is how he would always like to be treated by you from this day forward. You give him the power to move on when he's ready, letting him take everything at his own pace. ''Thank you,'' he says with a deep voice, which honestly takes you by surprise, but you don't show it. ''For being so gentle,'' he finishes his sentence.

''It's okay, Sergeant. I get that it's not fun to be treated like this when you're at your most vulnerable. I try to make you feel as comfortable as possible, and we can go at your own pace,'' you tell him while continuing to clean the wounds on his chest. His face has softened a lot now, the grumpy scowl on his face now making a place for a bit of a relaxed expression. At first, Bucky was uncomfortable with you seeing his arm, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with it himself, but he got over that pretty quickly when he took his shirt off, you didn't comment on it, look at it weird, or even acknowledged it at all. Of course, you saw his prosthetic, but you've seen everything by now, so it didn't faze you in the slightest.

''Can you please lift your left arm so I can check your side and back for injuries?'' you ask and he does it immediately, the feeling he had at first being completely washed away now, he enjoyed you being so gentle, he missed this feeling and he welcomed it with every fiber in his being. ''You're looking good on this side, can you lift your right arm so I can do the same on the other side?'' you ask as you walk around the bed, but again no injuries. ''Also looking good!'' you say with a cheer in your voice. ''Do you feel comfortable with removing your shoes and tactical pants so I can take a look at your legs? You can keep your underwear on, I won't need to examine there unless you are experiencing pain in those areas,'' you tell him.

''Yeah, it's okay,'' he says this time, even giving you a small smile as he permits you. He quickly takes off his boots and pants and sits back down so you can examine them. Aside from some bruised, you appear to be good. Is there a specific place you need me to check out a little closer?'' you ask and Bucky shakes his head, he's feeling a lot better already, the super soldier serum also helping him heal faster than usual. ''Okay, then we're all done here for today!'' you say as you take off your gloves and face mask, showing him your big smile now. Bucky can't help but gasp softly when you smile at him, it's the most beautiful smile he has seen in decades.

''You can get dressed while I clean up, so we can discuss your wound care afterward,'' you tell him and he does so. You explain how he can take care of his wounds, and if there's any discomfort he can always come back. ''Again, thank you so much for being so gentle,'' Bucky said, ''It means the world,'' he says before getting up and walking towards the door. ''Sergeant?'' you ask, ''You can call me Bucky, doll'' he says and you blush immediately. ''Bucky? I'm glad I could make you feel comfortable. I'll be honest, I was told about your situation beforehand and I get it, it's nice to get a little bit of power back in a situation where you're practically helpless. It was my pleasure to take care of you today,'' you say and flash him another smile before he gave you a smirk back and walked out the door.

He felt like he was walking on a cloud, not having felt so well taken care of in so long. For nearly 70 years HYDRA just did as they pleased, so it did feel good to finally take a little piece of his dignity back. ''How did it go?'' Steve asks when he returns to the kitchen, where Steve was getting his after-mission snack ready. ''Actually, I think I have a new favorite nurse. She took great care of me, explained everything she was going to do, and asking permission along the way. It honestly felt good to have a bit of control about this,'' he said with a smile, and Steve completely understood. ''I'm glad to hear it, Buck,'' he said as he offered him half of his snack, knowing he was also very hungry.

[amostimprobabledream]

The Sweetest Violence (Homelander x Reader)

Just a lil drabble, also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57696463

"Sssh..." Blood. So much blood. The fetid stink of it is everywhere. It fills up your nostrils and chokes up your senses. It's thick and sticky in your hair, hot and drying in stiff patches on your skin. You feel like you could take a hundred showers, soak in the bath for hours and hours and it still wouldn't get rid of the sensation of blood clinging to your flesh. Homelander doesn't seem to notice or care about the blood. He carries you easily, clasped to is chest, his own face splashed with blood, dark patches of it staining his blonde hair. The brilliant blue of his eyes seems to burn through a streaky veil of scarlet, made all the more vivid by the contrast. "It's all right," he whispers to you as he walks, his soothing tone at odds with the gore-soaked state of him. "It's okay now. Ssh. You must've been scared, huh?" Yes. You were. The people who took you saw you as nothing more than an object, a tool with which they could use against Homelander. You could tell by the impersonal way they handled you, the way they barley looked at you and didn't bat an eyelid at your screams and shouts. That scared you more than anything, the dead, cold looks in their eyes, like you were trying to communicate with machines, not people. If they could be so indifferent to your fear and confusion, what would they care about doing more permanent damage?

So, when you heard it - the rush of air and signature boom of one of Homelander's signature landings, those dramatic superhero drops that signify I am here, it was like divine intervention. The relief that hit you was like no high you'd ever experienced before, the way you imagine a shipwreck survivor must feel when they finally see the boat that's come to save them after being stranded in the brutal, unforgiving seas. That was, until Homelander got to work. Bodies. Ripped apart like paper. Heads not rolling but exploding like watermelons struck by a bat. Unholy shrieks of horror and agony drowned out in wet gurgles of blood. Eyes shining like warning lights in the gloom - inhuman, like a monster from a nightmare. You could only curl up as best you could and close your eyes to the carnage, a sob tangled in your throat, but you couldn't quite drown out the screaming and your imagination supplied you plenty of images that rivalled the horror of what was happening.

When Homelander calmly melted the chains on you and hoisted you up into his arms, you briefly wondered if you were about to die too - even though he'd come to rescue you. Your mind  is in a haze -a long time ago, somebody had explained to you the difference between horror and terror, and you felt it keenly now. You're not screaming or thrashing to escape, or outwardly freaking out at all. Instead, you feel like you've been plunged into a pool of still, frigid water and simply wait under the surface, unwilling to expend any energy into swimming up to the surface and peering out at whatever may lay above. You retreat into numbness, curiously swamped with cold despite how hot Homelander is. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit, your breath coming out in sharp little pants. Homelander can hear the frantic pounding of your heart and how you breathe like there isn't enough air, but he assumes that it's from the fear of being kidnapped, of men in dark clothes and with dead eyes. It probably hasn't even crossed your mind that the one who has driven you to this heightened state of fear is him. And you don't want him to think it, so you nuzzle deeper into him, you can't seem to stop hyperventilating no matter how you try. "S'okay," Homelander shushes you, misunderstanding your trembling, a gloved hand petting your hair like he's trying to soothe a skittish animal. He's so monstrously strong he can hold you, a grown woman, easily to his body with just one arm, and you automatically wrap your legs around him, a gesture you've done many times before, but never in this context. He's being so gentle with you that it's hard to believe you just witnessed a man being torn in half by Homelander's bare hands. "You're safe. I've got you." Yes, he does. You're locked in his powerful embrace like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. You bury your face in his chest to hide your expression as well as seeking comfort - it seems perverse to look for it from a man soaked in blood, but what else can you do? You let yourself be lulled into a calmer state, his warmth seeping into you and the slow, rhythmic motions of his hand in your hair weirdly comforting.

But you don't miss the gravel, the hint of threat in his voice when he speaks again. You know it's not directed at you, not his sweetheart, but you still feel a shiver lick down your spine as he speaks; "No one will ever take you away from me."

[animeyanderelover]

Characters of your choice from JJK with a darling who has a tattoo of their ex please

Holidays, everyone! I finally have my holidays! I changed it slightly so that the darling has a tattoo of the name of their ex.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, clinginess, manipulation, controlling behavior, forceful behavior, death

S/o has a tattoo of the name of their ex

Fushiguro Megumi

💙You have never told him of your tattoo before, aware how paranoid Megumi tends to be. Perhaps that would have been the wiser choice yet instead he discovers the name engraved on your skin himself as you fail to cover the name on your shoulder in time as he accidentally walks in on you changing. Thick silence befalls the room as he just stands there, frozen as his eyes are glued to the black kanji signs on your skin. His mind repeats the name over and over again until he suddenly remembers where he has heard it before. His heart drops, a lumb of fear and insecurities forms at the back of his throat and his eyes widen frantically. You try to come up with something, anything to explain this to him yet he is faster. Suddenly he stands in front of you, arms seizing your shoulders as he asks you with a slightly raised voice why you never told him that you had a tattoo of your ex. Why?? Why would you do that?? Were...were they that important to you? What about him then?

💙He can't bear to look at you the same way as before after that for quite some while, not without imagining the name of your ex tattooed on your shoulder. It's like a marking that spells out that you once loved someone else and whenever he actually sees your tattoo, he feels something clenching deep inside his chest. His insecurities and paranoia increase as he starts wondering if you still harbor feelings for your ex. Going as far as carrying a tattoo of their name around is a pretty big sign of devotion after all. You find yourself having a harder time to calm him down, the tattoo on your shoulder triggering him whenever he catches a glimpse of it. It haunts him, torments him a bit and he has wondered a couple of times already if he has to threaten your ex as paranoia poisons his ability to think rationally and instead whispers into his mind that you might return to your ex. He knows that it isn't good for his sanity which is why at some point he begs you to remove it somehow. Please, it torments him.

Zenin Maki

💚​Maki has known about your tattoo for a longer while now, it's hard to hide something written on your wrist with black and permanent ink after all. She already questioned this decision of yours back then quite a bit because it's quite risky to get a tattoo of the name of your ex without any guarantee that they'll stay. All you could do back then was to give her a pitiful laugh as you couldn't help but agree with her. Back then this was still fine though but now it is a different story as she's grown rather possessive over you. The tattoo is an eyesore for her whenever she sees it and due to the visible spot you chose, she sees it multiple times a day. She lets out a scoff whenever her eyes find the kanji signs and her mood is almost always worsening a tad bit whenever she spots the name of your former lover. At least she is reasonable enough to understand that both of you have broken it up for good so she isn't as wavering and paranoid as Megumi. She knows that you don't have any feelings for them anymore.

💚​That doesn't mean that she hasn't completely forgiven you for your stupidity to get a tattoo in the first place. In fact she is scolding you more nowadays for your decision than before. Maki knows that you regret that mistake yourself but she can't help it sometimes, she is a bit mad and tends to express that with not so kind words. At the very least she notices that her words only cause you to feel worse so she tries to comfort you as good as she can everytime her tongue slips and she accidentally cuts you with her words. She makes it very clear to you though that she greatly dislikes that you have the name of someone else decorating your body whilst you're together with her and you can't even blame her for it. She would appreciate for you to somehow get rid of this tattoo and sometimes you have the feeling that her wish sounds more like a demand.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​It's perhaps not the best idea to let Gojo ever find out about your tattoo but how is that even supposed to work? The man is so terribly clingy and intrusive and despite his goofy facade, you have a feeling that he might react very badly to the sight of your tattoo. You try to figure out a way how to tell him as harmlessly as possible but you can't come up with anything. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference in the first place. That's at least what you think as you try to wiggle free from his unusually tight grip, one of his hands lifting up your shirt as dull blue eyes stare at the name written slightly above your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat when those same blue eyes finally meet your own and you feel like you could drown within the abyss of the darkness swirling behind those beautiful orbs. A forced smile stretches his face as he asks you why you have someone's name tattooed on your body. Especially that of your ex.

🩵​You have a hard time convincing him not to go after your ex as your gut screams at you that something terribly will happen otherwise. You beg him to have mercy since both of you have ended the relationship years ago and you don't even have any contact with them anymore. You swallow heavily when his heavy and colder gaze rests on you yet still plead him to not do anything to them as you promise to do whatever he wants. Your wish is somewhat granted as Gojo doesn't harm them but he still wants to have seen the person whose name stains your skin at least once. Needless to say, he is disappointed when he sees your ex who is in his eyes a nobody but perhaps that reassures him a tiny bit. He can't help but torment and scare the poor soul though and they don't know even why. He organizes an appointment for you where the tattoo will be completely removed and only after that he seems to return to his usual self, happily kissing the now empty spot on your skin.

Kamo Choso

🩸​Choso is absolutely attached to your hips. He's needy, soft-spoken, careful and surprisingly considerate. If he wouldn't have been your kidnapper and creepy stalker, you might have appreciated him more though. There is something about him that sometimes just unsettles you and he himself doesn't even seem to notice when he's creeping you out until he witnesses your reaction. You don't even notice him until you feel his fingertips brushing against your skin and nearly jump out of your skin, turning bewildered around to see Choso staring at the same spot where your tattoo was only a few moments ago. He doesn't move as he now stares into empty air as if trying to process something until dark eyes finally meet your own. He swallows before apologizing that he just walked in on you without telling you anything. A few seconds of silence before you hear him asking you once again, this time in a slightly shaky tone, what that was he just saw on your back.

🩸​It's like Choso initially refuses to believe that a tattoo is something permanent as he rejects the thought that you will walk around with a name of your ex-lover forever engraved onto your being. You wake sometimes up in the middle of the night only to feel his hand rubbing against the tattoo as if trying to erase it himself, you notice the way his hands start trembling when he realizes that the ink doesn't fade away even a tiny bit and pray that he won't have a meltdown. Choso would never blame you for it but that means that his hostility is turned against your ex as he starts genuinely believing that they tricked you and manipulated your feelings, abused your kindness which is why you were fooled into getting such a tattoo. He never goes out to kill them though, only because you stop him though and successfully manage to coax him into not doing such a thing and instead he just clings onto you. He asks you anxiously more than once if there is a way to get rid of the tattoo and you know that it's probably the best way to preserve his sanity somehow.

Mahito

🔷​Good luck in general with Mahito because that is a recipe for disaster anyways. Mahito's perception of love differs greatly and is much more twisted and warped than anything and in his eyes he wouldn't even label his feelings as love. He likes to view you more as a sweet experiment, an interesting specism he just likes to spend time with whilst poking and tormenting you to gauge all of your reactions. The best you can do is try to endure it without giving him too much of a reaction because the bastard loves seeing you respond strongly to anything he does. Unfortunately you don't react quite as level-headed as you would like to have when he notices the dark ink on your legs and suddenly yanks you towards him, his hands roughly holding your leg, unimpressed by the way you're kicking and hissing at him. Cold fingers brush over the lettering on your skin, mismatched eyes curiously go back and forth between your eyes and the dark ink on your thigh before he asks you what this is.

🔷​He's genuinely interested to hear your reasons why you would decide to have the name of your ex tattooed on your skin and it is hard for you to tell if he is angry at all about it or not. He's definitely mocking and degrading you though as he labels you stupid for doing something like this despite never having known if they would actually stay with you. His fingers are still tracing over the tattoo and when he suddenly falls quiet for a while, you realize that he's thinking about something. Then he suddenly asks you if you just feel better if you have someone's name on your body which successfully makes you feel like you belong to someone. You're offended by his words but he doesn't give you time to answer as a grin suddenly flashes across his face, his grip tightening as he says with an excited tone that he wants to see his name on your skin too. You can't do anything but watch as your leg deforms in a grotesque way before returning to it's normal form. Your previous tattoo has disappeared and instead the kanji signs now read Mahito's name. Do you want more~?

[edoro]

i don't blame anyone for not knowing that Thistle was Literally Trafficked and that Freinag's advisors bought him and presented him as a gift because Freinag threw a baby tantrum because he wanted an elven servant as a living conversation piece, and that from the very beginning Thistle's purpose in the Melini court was "cute exotic pet for Freinag to show off"

because it's all in supplemental material. because the only person in the comic who knows this for sure is Thistle.

we can't completely assume that what Yaad tells Laios and co is 100% of what he's been told by Delgal, and that he isn't leaving things out or massaging the story into a convenient shape to position Thistle as an antagonist who must be stopped, because he's certainly canny enough to do that

but i think we can pretty comfortably imagine that it could be everything Yaad knows, and that if it's not, it's still probably pretty close to the story Delgal has told him. and it's fairly clear that Delgal has presented things in a certain light, characterized Thistle in a certain way, and from there we have to wonder: how much of that is on purpose?

certainly some of it is, because Delgal is very avoidant and the actual truth of the matter is that he shares a significant portion of the blame here, but all of it? i could very easily see Delgal not knowing that his father bought and owns Thistle. from his perspective, Thistle's just been there since before he was born and was a constant and loving companion - and confidante and caretaker - throughout his life.

so if Delgal doesn't know, then how could Yaad? and how could anyone else know if Thistle isn't going to tell them, and why would he?

the comic about how Thistle came to court and the elf cake comic are, i think, two of the most crucial pieces to understanding Thistle, because when you take them together, what you get is:

Thistle was abandoned at birth. between his birth and when Freinag's advisors bought him, someone raised him, fed him, clothed him, taught him to speak, and taught him how to play a couple of instruments well enough that he could entertain a king. whoever did that then - after twenty-odd years of being the closest thing he had to a family following the separation from his birth parent, something which he wouldn't be able to consciously remember but which would nonetheless have left him with a visceral and entirely subconscious belief that He Can Be Abandoned At Any Time And If That Happens He Will Die, because that's what happens to babies that are left alone - sold him.

so by the time he was the human equivalent of 5 or 6, he'd been taught that nothing is permanent, no one loves him enough to keep him, he will be abandoned, and that ultimately he is both a commodity and a curiosity, and any hope of having a home or being cared for depends on pleasing whoever owns him.

to make matters worse, Freinag didn't even like him at first. he scowled and sulked and the advisors, over Thistle's head, told Freinag that they needed to make sure he was harmless, that he was a perfectly impressive status symbol, and to just make sure he didn't get too attached. and Freinag proceeded to sulk for at least a couple of days (two different outfits on Thistle) before deciding he liked him.

Thistle didn't even have a name when he was bought. what did he spend the last 20-odd years of his life being called? how long did it take for Freinag to warm up enough to give him the cat-you-found-in-a-dumpster-ass name he ended up giving him?

no fucking wonder he latched onto the Melinis as hard as he did. no wonder he was so obsessively devoted to Delgal, the closest thing he had to a friend or someone who treated him as an equal. he was abandoned, bought and sold as a status symbol, told quite explicitly that he would only be tolerated as long as he was harmless and entertaining, and loved like a pet until Freinag had a real son.

no wonder he was so eager to prove himself. no wonder he would have done anything Delgal said. no wonder that he rewrote reality itself to try to keep Delgal safe and happy. no wonder he's so scared all the time - he has to have been scared his whole life, desperate to belong and horribly aware of just how easily he could be discarded, starving for love to fill the gaping primal wound in him from the kind of abandonment he experienced.

no wonder his idea of love is to keep people smothered and trapped, like birds in a cage. that's the only kind of love anyone ever showed him.

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg// pt.3 happy ending

summary- as confusions build to an overbearing crescendo, a sudden visit by Mingyu's sister leads to an unplanned encounter with your ex-husband. will seeing him one last time help you make up your mind?

Things can't possibly get any more confusing.

For Mingyu and for you.

While on one hand, he wants to do right by you and let you go, he can't escape the simple fact that he needs you. Long, hard days filled with thoughts of you are his reality now- they have been for the past week or so. Unable to move, to eat, to sleep, Mingyu finds himself at the lowest he's ever been.

And that message- god, he feels so stupid for contacting you when you clearly didn't want to talk. The tiny letters below his text, marked 'read' feel like little needles moving deeper into his heart every time he clicks on your chat.

That isn't to say he resents you, though. It's quite the opposite. Mingyu's time alone has given him the opportunity to grow a newfound hatred for himself, and he spends every waking moment wishing he was someone else. Someone who didn't hurt you.

You, on the other hand, are confused too, but for a different reason altogether. Although you love him, and long to be with him, the question of your self-respect remains. Letting him back in would mean giving the man who cheated on you a second chance, but staying away would mean losing the man you love, over a mistake he regrets making.

As you sit across from your lawyer, hand trembling with the weight of consequence, your thoughts race around like jolts of electricity- flooding your head with doubt.

"...and this is the last of it, so you can jus-" he trails off, noticing your shaken state.

"ma'am?"

Your head snaps up, eyes widening.

"y-um, yes, I'm listening- sorry-" you mumble, swallowing hard as you blink away the tears welling up in your eyes. Thankful for the opaque, white table separating you, you suck in a deep breath, trying to hide your trembling limbs.

"don't be,"

He offers a gentle smile, eyes filled with pity as if to say- 'oh, you poor thing...', and slides one final paper your way.

"here's the last of it- after this, you'll be free for good,"

For good? As in permanently? There's no going back? You look towards the man before you, helpless and confused. Although this is all your own doing, you can't help but feel a pang of doubt at the last leg of your journey.

"so after this we would have officially separated? he'll no longer be my husband?"

From the slight tremble in your voice, your lawyer gathers that something isn't right. It's the same quiver he detected in Mingyu's words a few days back.

He sighs, retracting the final document.

"ma'am, we can do this on another da-"

"no I just-"

"there's no rush, is there? I can tell your mind isn't completely made up just yet, and the last thing I want is for you to make a decision you aren't 100% sure of."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, dripping onto the papers below. And then another. And another.

The universe can be so unfair, so cruel, sometimes. What twisted satisfaction do the Gods get from watching you suffer like this? Things could've been so good with Mingyu. He could've treated you so well, been the perfect husband, loved you so truly- but no.

They had to come in and ruin it all.

"you can take your time, I'll be at the front desk if you need"

You barely acknowledge his departure, staring blankly at the table as tears blur your vision. It shouldn't be this hard. It really shouldn't. After all, this was your decision- your choice.

Mingyu fucked up. He broke your heart. He's the reason your self esteem is at the lowest it's ever been.

So why...

Why does this feel wrong? Why does it hurt so bad?

Your breaths grow shallow, each inhale speeding up until your heart thuds against your chest. The rapid rise and fall of your shoulders paints a pitiful picture, and you want nothing more than for the Earth to open up and swallow your sorrow.

That night you spent with Mingyu, opened up a world of possibilities- a world of hope- only to have it all come crashing down in an instant. For one night, you got to lay with him, to love him, to be loved by him and that was it. You saw a faint glimmer of hope, that shining light at the end of a long tunnel, but it slipped away just before you could reach out and grasp it.

Reality shook you awake and now here you are- crying in a cold meeting room, all by yourself, wishing none of this ever happened.

It pains you to say it, but the truth is these past few days have been really hard. You've spent hours scrolling through your phone in search of Mingyu's pictures, spent every night forcing yourself to put your phone away only to have him haunt your sleep- you just can't push him away.

All of a sudden, there's a knock at the door. Your head jerks up, eyes making out a petite frame through the translucent glass doors.

"come- come in," you call, rubbing your eyes furiously, "I was just about to leave"

The door creaks open and a familiar face comes into view.

"oh-"

Mingyu's sister.

Minseo's eyes grow watery at your state and she hurries into the room, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"how did you-"

"word travels fast," she interrupts, cradling your face as she stares sympathetically at your puffy, red eyes. "I thought I'd check in on you both, but neither of you has been answering my calls..."

"sorry I-"

"don't be! I just wanted to see if you're doing okay, y'know?"

Her eyes lock onto yours, asking silently- 'you are doing okay, right?' and you can't help the way your gaze falters. She looks so sincere, so apologetic, you don't want to lie to her.

"y/n,"

"I'm fine"

"y/n."

Her voice is firm.

You meet her stare.

"let me buy you something to drink, hm?" she smiles, veiling her concern. "starbucks?"

"I don't go there anymore,"

"someplace else, then."

You nod, offering her a small smile, and you make your way to a coffee shop nearby. As you find a table and place your orders, Minseo's smile falters ever so slightly.

And then she begins to speak.

"I know this is the last thing I should be asking, but um- you haven't- you haven't heard from Mingyu, have you?"

You sigh, shaking your head.

"oh."

The slight quiver in her voice has you on edge, and your fingers itch to reach out and hold her hand. Before you can stop yourself, a hesitant- "why're you asking?" slips past your lips.

"it's been a little over a week... all of us have tried to call or text or- I don't know, we've tried everything- fuck, I even went to his house, but still, there was no response. I'm a little worried, you know?"

Attentively, you nod along, brows furrowing as she goes on to explain further. A few minutes pass, and her story moves from bad to worse. So far, from what you've gathered, it isn't clear where or how he is.

Minseo's eyes begin to glass over, lips quivering as she speaks on.

"I know what he did is wrong, I would hate him too if I was you, but he's-" she cuts herself off with a trembling sob, "he's my brother, my family- and- and I don't know how to fix him, y/n. I don't know what he's doing in that house, I don't know if he's even in there anymore-"

Before you know it, your own eyes begin to water, and she takes in a breath.

"I don't know what to do, y/n"

"listen- Minseo I, I'm the last person he'd want to see right now- I'm not sure what you've got planned but-"

"no- no he loves you don't you get it? he only wants to see you right now. not me, not his friends, certainly not that other girl- just you."

You stay silent.

"I'm asking for a lot, I understand, but he's- I just need to know he's okay. and- and you're the only person he'll let in"

That's how you find yourself here, standing before the doors to your apartment. The familiar frame floods you with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, and you're almost about to turn around when something catches your eye.

Newspapers, bills, letters- all scattered at the foot of the door, unopened, piled upon each other the way you've seen before at abandoned homes.

Tentatively, you press the doorbell, cringing at how the sound seems to pierce through the still air. The sharp twang echoes all throughout the house, like a bullet ricocheting, and your heartbeat quickens.

For about a minute, there's no response- just silence. Maybe this was a bad idea. He probably isn't even h-

"leave me alone, Minseo." a hoarse voice interrupts suddenly, drawing your attention right away.

He's here.

Right behind this door, he's standing, breathing.

"it's um, it's y/n, actuall-"

Before you can finish your sentence, the door swings open, and to your dismay, Mingyu looks like shit.

Standing before you dressed in the same old pajamas, your ex-husband looks a mess. His eyes are so red and swollen you can't tell if he's slept at all. He's lost weight too... The once proud bulk of muscle he sported has drastically reduced to a much slimmer, skinnier figure.

But this all seems like nothing when you notice something held tight within his grasp-

"is that my-"

"no! no- it's uh, it's" he sputters helplessly, stepping back to let you in, "I was jus-just cleaning up! yeah just um, just cleaning,"

Your heart twists. The iron grip he's got on your t-shirt tells you a completely different story, but for now, you let it be. You don't need to dig up his feelings. Not when you haven't sorted your own out.

"how come you're- why are you here?"

"oh uh, m-my stuff? yeah! all my stuff is here and I need it, so..." you lie, looking around the house as you walk to the living room.

It's colder than before, somehow. Haunted. There's not a light or a lamp in sight, no fire burning in the fireplace- just total darkness. Everything is just as you left it too; your mug of coffee is still on the dinner table, Mingyu's briefcase is still set near the couch, the wall clock still hasn't been wound, now telling the tale of the past.

He notices your wandering gaze and suddenly feels conscious. Scratching the back of his neck, Mingyu ushers you quickly to the couch, blocking your view from the side so you don't see the true mess.

The bedroom.

Your bedroom, rather.

Oh, if you saw the state of that room-

Dark, heavy blinds shut off the outside world, a swirl of your clothes and blankets litter the bed, and the air hangs heavy, with spritzes of your perfume clinging to every surface.

The last thing Mingyu wants is for you to see the state of that room.

"could I-"

"have a seat-"

You both start at the same time, turning to each other awkwardly. He let's his gaze linger on yours for a moment too long, and all hell breaks loose. The air of pretense dissipates within seconds. Mingyu's eyes tell you all you need to know.

You're the first to look away, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion behind his stare. The longing and guilt and hurt etched deep in the universe of his eyes is too much. If you stared any longer, there's no holding either of you back.

"you first," he urges, "you were saying?"

"nothing really, no I uh, I just wanted to get some of my stuff, so if I could just go ins-"

"I'll do it!" he interjects suspiciously, his body going rigid at the thought of you walking into his pathetic little chamber of secrets. "I'll um. tell me what you need"

Unable to catch on, you insist further, telling him- "no! no really I can do it myself, please-"

A few dozen fruitless protests later, you've won.

Somehow.

Mingyu tried his best, although in vain, and now he's got you sitting on the couch as he scrambles to tidy up to the best of his abilities.

But of course, he should have known.

With your level of patience, it was only a matter of minutes before your curiosity got the better of you and led you straight into the bedroom.

"hey, you really don't have to bother so mu-" you start as you walk in, freezing at the door when your eyes glance over what once was your bedroom.

With a bunch of your t-shirts tucked away under his arm and a couple more scattered over his pillows, Mingyu halts his actions, paralysed.

The air is damp and clammy and it stinks of your perfume- strong enough to give you a headache. It feels as if time itself has stilled, as if it hasn't moved past that night you spent together.

Your bra is still in the corner of the room, your slippers are still at the foot of the bed, your pillow still has tear stains at the edge; it's like you were here just yesterday.

"Mingyu..."

He looks guilty. Like a puppy that got caught red handed with it's little snout burried deep inside a can of treats. You hate to say it, but it tugs at your heart a little more than you would've liked.

"I know how this looks-" he starts, still clutching desperately onto your clothes, "but I promise I'm okay." His voice cracks at the end, a slight quiver making it's way through the tough facade he's put up, and you feel your eyes begin to water.

Your eyes glisten with the saddest tears you've shed- the brightest, most sorrowful stars in Mingyu's galaxy- and suddenly, it doesn't matter to him that he's not yours anymore. Taking long, purposeful strides towards you, he closes in, dropping the clothes in his arms and taking hold of your face instead.

"I'm okay." he whispers, cradling your face, "I promise."

The tears begin to fall, one after another, and soon you're sobbing like a lost child. Your face crumples into the most devastating look Mingyu's ever seen, and before long, a heavy drop cascades down his cheek.

He thumbs away your tears continuously, swiping gently at your skin in distress with an expression that reads- 'but why are you crying? baby, please stop crying-'

It's a pathetic picture you two paint, but the moment means more to you than the he would know. All your thoughts of revenge and rage have cooled and now you see things for what they truly are.

He loves you.

He loves you and he knows he's fucked up so he's letting you go, no matter what becomes of him. To give you a shot at finding someone better, someone who won't hurt you like he did.

"please don't cry-" he begs, "I'll stop! okay? I'll clean up and give you your things ba-"

"you idiot"

The quiver in your voice silences him in an instant.

"you- why are you-" your voice gives way, cracking as you choke back a sob, unable to speak further.

Mingyu's lips tremble watching you. This is all his fault. You don't need to see this. You don't need to feel sorry for him. Yet, here you are, crying terribly for the man who hurt you.

Crying for him. After all he's done.

As if he hasn't given you reason enough to cry, Mingyu seems to have managed to add to the list, albeit unintentionally.

"baby-" His thumbs wipe away your tears and he lowers his face towards yours. "baby, please don't cry,"

He looks defeated. Like the last standing soldier, helplessly outnumbered by the enemy. If he felt like an asshole before, this just took the cake. Despite vowing to himself every night to never hurt you again, never make you cry again, here he is.

"c'mere, we'll go outside, okay? don't- don't stay in here"

Dumbly, you let him lead you to the hall, standing beside him as he grabs a tissue from it's holder. With the most gentle touch, Mingyu dabs at your skin, blotting away your tears, unaware of his own.

The proximity between your faces is dangerous. He's too close. While he's focused on wiping away your tears, you're torn between your thoughts.

His lips are right there, a mere inch away from yours. Technically, kissing him would be the easiest thing in the world- afterall, he's right there,- but somehow, he couldn't feel further away.

"did you stay in there this whole time?"

Finally, your voice finds it's way back.

His fingers halt their movements, and his eyes meet yours.

"yeah." he sighs.

There's an immeasurable guilt in his eyes, one that almost forces you to look away.

Almost.

Screaming from within, your mind urges you to draw your eyes back, but your body doesn't yield. It can't, rather. This was a bad decision to begin with- going to see your now ex-husband, when you yourself aren't certain where you stand. Do you still love him? Are you going to be okay without him? Will you be able to forgive him?

Despite being on shaky ground, you decided to come see him, and now, whatever resolve you've managed to build over the past week, comes crashing down.

One thing sticks out to you.

If there's anything that hurts more than a divorce, it's this- seeing the man you love turn into something unrecognizable, seeing him so struck with guilt and grief he barely seems alive.

As if connected by string, your eyes stay on each other's, neither one of you daring to look away. The pull of a strong magnet draws your bodies closer, and he whispers- "I miss you,".

With the gap between your lips closing soon, your eyes flutter shut, lips trembling ever-so-slightly with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Mingyu's breath fans over your face, the heat of his body burning softly against yours, and you lean closer, trying to close the gap between you and him, when all of a sudden, that warmth disappears.

Your eyes snap open, widening when you see that he's backed away.

"what ar-"

"we shouldn't-" he gulps, turning away as he steps back, putting safe distance between you and him. "it didn't uh, didn't end too well last time,"

Oh.

Right.

You hang your head, shoulders drooping- "you're right I shouldn't have forc-"

"no! no, I want to kiss you so bad, god I wanna kiss you- I just, let-let's talk first? before rushing into things, I just, y'know, I think we should talk. and- and I need you to be sure that this is what you want"

Your stomach flips hearing him speak.

'god I wanna kiss you'

"just kiss me, please" you whisper, holding back another wave of tears.

"I don't want you to leave again" Mingyu's brows scrunch together, a look of pain painting his features as he reminds you of what happened. Of how you made love only to part the next morning.

"I-"

"we c-"

You interrupt each other once again, growing tense as the air begins to weigh down on you both. There's a stale, heavy feeling clinging to everything, and it smells distinctly of the past.

"I can't lose you again," he says softly, eyes glossing over. "I won't be able to live with myself if I get to feel you again only to let you go in the end"

Here lies the last step, the final decision.

Mingyu's words mark the end of your dilemma- you have to choose now.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you shake your head, trying to stop the free fall of tears- "I'm so confused-"

"you're confused and I've hurt you and I wish I could change things but-" he winces, running his hands through his hair, "but I- no matter how I think about it, I love you. I love you and I've never stopped loving you. If you want to end things here, I understand, okay? I really do. After what I've done- I don't want to be forgiven I just- just please stop hurting"

He pauses, sniffling.

"and if moving on is what you need, if someone else can help you heal, I'll gladly let you go. so stop caring about me, okay? I'll- I'll be fine, I am fine, see?" he laughs through tears, clenching his fists, "just- I want you to be sure of whatever you decide."

"Mingyu..."

"I love you, okay? I really fucking love you and that's why I'll be alright. just show me that you'll be okay, that you'll find someone better-"

"there is no one better you idiot-" you sniffle, stepping towards him slowly, mind miraculously made up. "I'll find a good man, an honest man, a man who doesn't make me cry but I'll know for every second that I breathe, that he isn't you."

The air stills. The sound of cars and people and the city suddenly disappears as if in a vacuum.

Marching towards you, Mingyu closes the distance between you and him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you throw yours over his shoulder. His palms press down on your lower back, fingers splayed, and he burrows his head in the crook of your neck.

"I love you- I love you I love you I love you," he chants, lips pressed against your skin.

A hand slides up to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer still, and your grasp tightens around him.

It's like a scene straight out a movie- like perfect fiction with it's tear-stained confession and reconciliation- and you swear you hear music. The orchestral build, the grand crescendo that plays when two lovers are finally reunited at long last.

There's violins and cellos and harps and rhythm, and it all feels complete. It all feels right.

A tear wets the skin of your neck, and you pull back, gazing intently at Mingyu. He opens his mouth, taking in a sharp breath.

"I've missed you-"

"I missed you too,"

You reach up briefly, standing on your tip-toes, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling sweetly with tears swelling in your eyes.

He clears his throat.

"what's next?"

You shrug, eyeing him mischievously.

"I've just gotten divorced", a humorous smile lights up your face, "don't I need to find myself a handsome young man now?"

Mingyu matches your grin, pecking your lips quickly before saying-

"how 'bout I take you on a date- say, Saturday, 8 o'clock- and we see where it goes?"

"mm, I'd like that very much"

[fireflysummers]

Good Omens S2

Okay so.

Excellent Job, Gaiman

Ouch???

I don't like to publicly talk about my personal life. My academic life is my professional life is my artist life. But my personal life? Not so much, outside of vignettes.

But for the past several months, I've been deconstructing a lot of personal baggage and trauma surrounding both family and religion, after leaving the cult I was raised in (mormonism).

It's terrifying to realize that the framework you built your entire self on is false. It's exhausting and painful to deconstruct that framework, to disentangle your identity in the way that won't destroy you.

And it's slow.

Nobody ever tells you how slow it is to heal. You can't control the rate you heal either. You just have to be patient with yourself, and give yourself an environment where that healing can occur safely and naturally.

Anyways.

Good Omens, and its weird tendency to be exactly what I need when I need it.

I first read Good Omens in high school. And honestly, I didn't quite get it, at the time. I only knew it was different from every other book I've ever read, one that didn't treat religion as stupid or trivial, but also one that called out the blatant hypocrisy and control tactics involved. It helped me safely challenge a status quo I hadn't even realized existed.

I first watched Good Omens partway into my Master's Degree. It was everything that I could've hoped for. I understood the book a lot better, but the TV adaptation captured my struggles with mental dissonance, trying to understand and accept the parts of my identity that I was taught God didn't want.

I watch S2 a year into my doctoral program. I'm out of the cult, and it's exhilarating and painful and scary and fun, but I can still feel the scars its hooks left when they were torn out.

I feel like S2 Aziraphale is in about the same place. He's exploring his freedom, but also trying to reorient himself. He's trying to let himself be. He's healing, but his boundaries got overridden due to circumstances out of his control (naked Gabriel). He's been pulled back into the gravity of the abusive system he tried to escape, given a carrot on a stick, and isn't yet healed or strong enough to resist.

On top of that, Aziraphale is still holding onto the hope that the problem was bad individuals, not a corrupted system. He thinks if the leadership is different, things can change. He thinks if he had more authority in the system, he could make things change. And... that's not how it works.

And Crowley. Dear Crowley.

He wants Aziraphale to be farther along in his healing than he is. Honestly, Aziraphale wants it too. But again, you cannot force this kind of healing, even when it results in a loved one making some truly stupid decisions.

Crowley sees the system for what it is. He's already deconstructed that part. But he hasn't really started addressing his own trauma. He's hinged his entire existence on Aziraphale, on being what Aziraphale needs, that he hasn't allowed himself to heal either. And Aziraphale, who is vulnerable and healing, is not able to provide the support that Crowley would need to recover safely.

Which is why them separating is probably the best thing for both of them.

It won't be permanent.

But they don't communicate, and their relationship while delightful and beautiful risks unhealthy codependency that prevents either from really growing or healing.

Anyways, what I really hope to see next season is Aziraphale's realization that the system never had his back. That the system is what's wrong, and that he can't win by playing at respectability politics or gaining a higher status within it.

I want Aziraphale to get angry.

He deserves it. He's tried so hard. He thinks he's lost Crowley over it.

I want him to feel the gut-wrenching despair of realizing how conditional and fleeting the system's version of love is, and I want it to turn into a rage.

But not a destructive rage--the sort of anger that Pratchett ascribes to himself and many of his works. The sort of anger that fueled Discworld and Good Omens. The sort that can be finessed into a weapon and a shield, that can be used to protect the people who truly love you.

For millennia we see Crowley fighting for Aziraphale.

For Season 3, I want to see Aziraphale fighting for his demon.

For him to apologize, without the expectation that Crowley will come back, but because he was wrong and Crowley needs to know it. To not expect forgiveness, not even think he deserves it.

And then for Crowley--who is trying to hide his heart eyes at seeing his avenging angel coming to save him for once, who he can tell immediately has changed, and is finally going Crowley's speed)--for Crowley to give that forgiveness, without strings attached.

[galedekarios]

more gale & tara epilogue stuff

tara's epilogue conversation is so extremely devastating if gale sacrificed himself. since i can't bring myself to play it, i thought i'd look at it in the files and share what i find here.

tara can be found at camp and this is how the conversation with the player begins:

Tara the Tressym: Oh, hello, darling. I was hoping to see you. Withers informed me about this little get-together and I thought I'd show my whiskers.devnote Tara the Tressym: I can almost feel Gale here. Among his friends - in you. Some part of him remains, doesn't it? devnote: Gale has died so she's very sad and nostalgic.

this devnote is repeated for almost every line for tara in this convo.

from here, the player has various options to reply. i'll be going through them in order.

the first is one where the player points out the magically conjured image of himself that gale left behind in case of his permanent death:

Player: Well, his magical ghost is still here, if that's what you mean. Tara the Tressym: That thing's no more than a shadow of the real man. A nonsense. Though it captures some of his more insufferable qualities...

the second option is the player saying that they are feeling something similar, a presence that reminds them of gale:

Player: It does, Tara. I can feel his presence too. Tara the Tressym: A crackling in the air, isn't it? That flair of magic and mischief.

despite the tragedy of it all, i do love tara describing gale's presence as 'that flair of magic and mischief'. it's so very sweet and sad, especially remembering just long she's known him.

perhaps here she remembers the boy who accidentally set the rose bush on fire and cried, just as elminster does. or perhaps the boy who summoned a magma mephit, causing chaos, but also making a lifelong friend.

the third option is to tell tara that you miss gale, too, and this honestly made me tear up:

Player: I miss him too, Tara. Tara the Tressym: That's good. We should miss him. He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love. Tara the Tressym: Oh, what I wouldn't give to snuggle up on his lap one more time. Just once would do. Player: Would a fuss from me make you feel better?

"He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love."

PROUD AS A PEACOCK BUT... MY LITTLE LOVE

M Y L I T T L E L O V E

this is obviously completely fine so i'll continue with the fourth option:

Player: You can snuggle up in my lap later, if you like. Tara the Tressym: Oh, I couldn't possibly... unless... well, perhaps it's not a terrible idea. Gale would be quite pleased to know we've made friends, wouldn't he?

it's clear that tara needs some comfort. despite her stiff upper lip approach to most news devastating to her and the thin veneer of control she puts on here.

the fifth option is expressing that you know how she feels:

Player: I know how you feel. Tara the Tressym: Ah, to lose the one you love the most. What a terrible thing.

the sixth option is rather callous and tara's response to it once again heartbreaking:

Player: Alas, you can't. Tara the Tressym: No. Not in this life, at least.

the last option again shows tara's true grief at what happened:

Player: He's gone. We have to accept that. Tara the Tressym: I suppose we do. But I certainly wish we didn't.

most of these different options lead to the end of the conversation with tara, where she invites the player to visit her and morena in waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother, some time? She misses him so - and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was.

again, the player has various choices to either accept or refuse her invitation. i won't go through them all and you can read for yourself in the screenshot i provided. but i do want to look at these two options here:

Tara the Tressym: Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother, some time? She misses him so - and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was. Player: I'd love to, but I'm leaving Faerûn after tonight. Tara the Tressym: Well if you ever come back do look us up in Waterdeep. Surname 'Dekarios'. I'd enjoy the chance to reminisce about the good man we knew.

i'm once more reminded of that one line in elminster's letter and i feel so sad for morena:

Does he live within his mother’s ageing heart, weeping for those roses? 

2.

Player: I'll consider it. Tara the Tressym: See that you do. We'd love to have you. Things have been rather quiet without himself cluttering up the place.

which made me think about gale's line that his tower has never been so free of clutter ever since he had to deal with his condition.

anyhow, i hope this was interesting to some of you!