#there was so much consideration given to the questions

[vamphorica]

Because I hate being happy for more than two hours at a time, I've been considering to what extent Matt knew that Takada's kidnapping was a suicide mission.

I've been looking at this screenshot while I've been using it as a reference for a drawing and given that the poor boy is only designated sixty-nine seconds of screentime in the anime, I think it is interesting that there's a substantial pause on this specific frame. Matt is surrounded by Takada's bodyguards, unable to get out of the predicament he has found himself in. At this point, he believes there are two possible outcomes: he will either be arrested, or shot dead. You could interpret his expression here as apathetic, as that is how he tends to be characterised, but he sits in his car and looks out towards the row of headlights for about seven seconds. He considers his situation, acknowledging the number of men pointing their guns at him, and then he leaves his car.

The question is, did it occur to him then, or had he known beforehand, that his death was inevitable? Remember – Matt is one of a few characters in Death Note to be killed 'traditionally'. Should we take the Shinigami Eyes into consideration here, we have to assume that Matt is fated to die at this exact moment in time, regardless of circumstance. There is nothing that would have saved him from his demise that day.

However, I do wonder if, at nineteen years old, he is truly apathetic about his own life. I genuinely believe Mello sees his own death as an inevitable sacrifice, but I am not so convinced that Matt actually cares enough about defeating Kira to lay his life down for the cause alone. The manga suggests he leaves his car almost immediately upon being caught, and his final words, sadly, suggest a lack of foresight about the gravity of danger he is in.

Kira's world is not one in which justice prevails as Light envisioned, but rather it is an autocratic reign of terror. There is absolutely no chance in which Matt would be detained in a society in which death is considered the appropriate solution to crime. He is a Wammy's boy, but even if he had not have been associated with the House, Matt would have still been aware that his risk of death is heightened exponentially through his association with Mello alone.

In the anime, when Matt looks out the window of his car, we hear his inner monologue. Nonchalant, there is no fear to be heard in Drew Nelson's performance of the lines, and Matt's awareness of his impending death is presented as being limited. Is it an act? Or is Matt portrayed as lacking self awareness to such an extreme extent? Perhaps to 'justify' Matt's position as the third successor to L, Ohba felt the need to present Matt as ignoring the inevitable, but at least to me, this feels like it greatly undermines his intelligence. He may not be competing against Mello and Near, but that does not negate the fact he was still raised in the same institution that they were. All the children are freakishly smart, that is the whole point.

Did Mello propose the plan to kidnap Takada to Matt with the acknowledgement that they were both likely to be killed? Mello's final thoughts in the manga and anime are asking Matt for forgiveness, his death apparently unanticipated by the former, which feels like a failure in writing the deaths of these two in a manner that reflected who they were.

Matt is, by all accounts, a fandom project rather than a fully developed character within the Death Note canonical universe, but we are aware that Matt was created for Mello. I hardly expect Death Note to explore the intricacies of such themes in the series (particularly given, as much as I hate to admit it, Mello and Matt are not the main characters within the franchise). However, even with the rather minimal source material provided to us by both manga and anime, we are made aware that the two have a very unique relationship. They know each other intimately, and Matt does not fear Mello as many of the other characters in the series do.

Mello does not want Matt to die. He values Matt and while one could attribute the gratitude for him to the popular fan narrative that Matt is the one to look after Mello after the explosion, or indeed the idea that the two are in a relationship, their interactions with one another already set up their alliance as one that appears to transcend the regular boundaries of friendship. Again, I'm pulling a lot from fanon here, I know. Take it up with Ohba.

Narratively, if Mello has to die, so too does Matt. Ohba could not foresee this character that is so dependent on another to live beyond him. Yet I simply refuse to believe that Mello would have placed someone so important to him in a compromising position where the likelihood that he will be killed is almost certain. As much as I believe that Mello's final thoughts being directly addressed to the deceased Matt demonstrates an important ode to their relationship, I cannot understand how Mello would have been shocked to hear of Matt's death, given the risk.

We know Mello was fully aware that he was going to die that night. If he did not die, Near would have, and I think to Mello that would have been the greatest loss he could have suffered in their ongoing conflict. Regardless of whether you believe Mello cared about Near to any extent or not, I genuinely cannot imagine Mello would have been happy to succeed as L had it been attained through Near's 'sacrifice'. I am actually exploring an AU of this very idea in a fanfiction I intend to publish early next year, in case you're interested, haha.

This returns to the question as to when Matt realises he is not surviving this mission. Presumably Mello asked for his cooperation, and in doing so, he would have had to explain the plan to Matt which, quite frankly, reveals Mello's intent to die as soon as it is advantageous to do so. Given that Mello did not want Matt to be killed, did Mello reassure Matt that he had created the plan to guarantee his safety? Did Matt believe him? Was Mello deliberately vague, only telling Matt that he needed to set off the smoke gun, then hit the gas and get away from Takada's security team?

As far as I can tell, there is no reason as to why Mello would have been dishonest with Matt, explaining what he was planning to do and why. Perhaps he even suggested to Matt that he could find someone else to take on his position, given the danger he anticipated they would be in. Matt is, as I think the series makes clear, very loyal to Mello, and so I doubt such a proposal was even considered, but I think it is safe to assume that if Mello knew how this plan would end, so too would Matt, whether Mello explicitly told him or not. He would have figured it out.

When Matt and Mello part ways for the final time, not shown to us in either the manga or the anime, they both know that they are saying their last goodbye to one another. I think Mello hopes that Matt will survive somehow, experience a Kira-free world and move on with his life, but I believe Matt knows, well before he got caught, that there is no escape from the inevitability of his death.

Maybe, when he steps out of the car, confronted by the 'big guns', he holds out a little faith that at least he might see Mello again soon.

[sillyhahasilly]

im hving too much fun w this - more hcs - nsfw tho

andre seems like the type of guy that would def ask you several times before you go down on him like - "are you sure this ok?" and then when youre down, his fingers are basically gripping your scalp

and cal whimpers but refuses to admit it

hey anon!! sorry this took forever.

andre would - if he is in a good mood. he wouldn't want to hurt his partner. he would also be so nervous himself he is sorta hoping they back out so he doesn't have to himself, doesn't mean he don't want it tho. js a overthinking virgin.

I do think if he is mad or upset he would be much less considerate. esp if he was mad at this partner. also, if it at this point he has gotten head multiple times, he wouldn't ask as much.

with cal, given he is in a normal mood, the first would go as u described. I do rlly think he would be asking those questions more out of his own nervousness than worry, but still. after that though he would let it happen. they are so close he would feel like he doesn't need to make sure like that, and if he did cal would tell him to stop being big a virgin. cal likes it rough lol, he doesnt want to be coddled.

so cal would encourage andre to pull his hair and hold his head. he would grab andres hands and move them there if they weren't. he tells andre, "idc if u pull my hair out, just pull" and andre found it so hot he listened.

I don't think andre would be really handsy w the person giving him head unless prompted like that tho, or at least until he starts to cross the line with them into rough/angry sex.

and on ur last point cal is such a whimperer you are so right. he whines for more or for his partners touch, whimpers when he is given the pleasure that he falls deep into. he's a whimperer when he is blissed out and desperate ;) tho not all the time.

[sunglassesmish]

if i got the chance to interview oliver stark about 911, you bet your ass i wouldn’t waste a single question over something like ‘will tommy be jealous of buck and eddie’s friendship?’ after we have seen multiple times he isn’t, and most recently in the new episode. not to mention we’ve seen even eddie isn’t jealous of buck and tommy’s relationship, and we were shown that yet again in the premiere. there are so many more interesting things you could ask about buck’s actual relationship and that story, or even buck and eddie. but no.

[misspickman]

cassierose for the ship ask game !!

Ship It

What made you ship it? i liked them in tt03, which you know, is truly a feat considering how terribly that comic treats both of them. but their dynamic (angry homoeroticism) managed to be compelling still

What are your favorite things about the ship? i enjoy girl antagonism from time to time. i know were all sick of the trope that teen girls all hate each others guts but considering cassie has a pretty good relationship with all the other girls on her team(s) its fun to see her just go ugh i hate this one. this one can go. theyre just fun and bitchy and i think they should hatefuck about it. but beside that theres also so much potential there ! i think you know, if anyone writing that comic actually cared about cassie or rose or about their character development, it would have been interesting to see their relationship change over time instead of getting one issue where cassie implicitly calls rose family while protecting her, and then the next one she immediately she calls her a manipulative psychopath for no good reason bc they cant figure out how to make the team interesting without having some wildly antagonistic relationship that doesnt make sense if u think about it for a few seconds. theyre never going to be besties but it would have been nice to see them go from blind hate to an uneasy truce; they dont like each other but they do, unfortunately, care about each other, and lets see where we go from that. + itd be interesting to dig into cassies hypocrisy when it comes to hating rose

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? i guess its that i would like them to grow past mindlessly despising each other ? this is not me criticizing anyone but i feel like a lot of takes on cassierose ive seen are that they should stay in the hatefucking no mushy business❌❌❌phase which is definitely fair and true to how they are in tt03. but i do have some issues with the way they were written in tt03 (particularly cassie) and would like to see their dynamic progress from that (see rant above)

[acid-ixx]

Okay, how about we call Alfred dad??? Sense he raised us and practically is our dad. Sorry I keep on asking. I just am a thinker

series masterlist

a/n: don't be sorry for asking ! i like answering asks even if i do answer really slowly, so don't be afraid to send in questions ! this is a continuation to this ask.

it would actually be a given that if the reader wasn't too broken to the point that they genuinely could never consider anyone as a father figure, then alfred would be someone they would call their dad.

because at least in their 15 years they had been inside the manor, alfred would always be the one who would stand by their side. even if it's not always, he would be there for you when he could. and that effort alone is enough to consider him worthy as your father.

pre-yandere bruce wouldn't even know of your tight-knit relationship with alfred; calling him dad when you skip through the halls with him, calling him your "actual father" whenever you two would bake together, and even going as far as gifting him a mug with 'no. 1 dad!' painted sloppily into the ceramic. alfred would even teach you how to crochet, so you two would get matching sweaters for winter. although alfred wouldn't wear the sweater for the sake of formality, you would always be aware that he stores them somewhere safe and warm as some sort of treasure.

so, imagine just how heartbroken bruce would be once you are abducted by your family, calling out to your dad in your drugged state on your bed, bruce thinking that it was him that you're calling for help when all of a sudden, you make grabby-hands towards alfred, eyes hazily looking at the butler with such desperation that it feels like alfred is your actual father.

seeing you two act so close, bruce would be so, so conflicted. because at least, in the years of solitude you had spent, you find comfort in the very same man bruce considers as his father figure. but at the same time it should've been him that you call your father, it should've been bruce you look at for help and guidance, it should've been him that lulls you back to sleep, wiping the tears that run down your face.

it breaks his heart even further once he discovers all the little trinkets that you make for alfred, all the inside jokes you two share, the gifts you cherish in your cabinets from the apartment you used to live in; they were all from alfred— bruce wants to kick himself realizing that he never made an effort to gift you anything in your 15 years of living in the manor as a ghost.

bruce swears on his life that he'll make it up to you, that despite him being unable to stay the night frequently with you that he'll make it up during the day. he'll take you to business meetings, to arcades, to malls; literally anywhere to get you to bond with him as much as you did alfred.

he'll schedule holidays where the entire family is required to join and you'll be the center of attention. your birthdays will be extravagant, he would spend millions to make a show that you're his favorite child; that means he'll spoil you with gifts that pertain to your hobbies. and because your family loves you so much, please do expect a minimum of 10 gifts prepared by all your siblings and a credit card with no limit for bruce.

oh? you don't need material things? don't worry, you'll be surprised with just how meticulously your father would plan for vacations. any place you would choose would be taken into heavy consideration, even planning with him would feel like some sort of father-child bonding.

but really, he'll commit all his time and effort for you.

bruce would do everything to make you consider him as your dad.

[2kiran]

“FALLING INTO PIECES”

PAIRING: Spider-Man Noir x Reader Reader is a male. Bottom Noir. KINKTOBER CW: SMUT, physical descriptions of r (taller than o’hara), implied internal homophobia (noir), size kink, anal fingering

Noir was a simple man in an odd place.

According to his own perception of this alternative reality, at least.

Being a newly recruited member of the Spider Society was certainly not for a man who belongs to the twentieth century; mostly due to the existence of advanced technology no one from his time has invented quite yet. He was unaware—traditional, in his respective terms.

It wasn’t that he was judgmental of the future. He was just clueless to how everything currently functioned. Even now so when he learned that most accepted others so easily without so much of an intentional blink of a suspicious eye, he seemed to shift into a demeanor strangely experimental.

You were one of the only Spider-men he was ridiculously able to settle at ease with for an extended period of time, given that you didn’t ask too many questions and you didn’t feel the need to talk his hearing senses off.

And maybe, maybe it was also due to how... inhumanely large you were in stature.

The size difference between the two of you was stark. Hell, he thinks you stand a few inches taller than the Miguel O’hara. It was probably the reason why he appears to be drawn to you, dare he say attracted.

Right, he hasn’t thought about that part. Hasn’t come to the conclusion that he wasn’t a heterosexual man, as it was the only thing that wasn’t considered to be outrageous in his world.

But Heaven forbid, you were something otherworldly. Built like a beast that towers over him entirely, hands big and calloused while being simultaneously calculated and cautious when it came to tending to his wounds, and you didn’t treat him like he was a stray that’s originated from a nameless town.

He liked you in a way he didn’t know how to admit, and that made him fear the intruding feeling.

That realization only dawned on him as you backed him against a wall, his back hitting the bricks, his head now required to tilt up to meet your masked eyes through his goggles.

“What...” Noir begins, as if he wasn’t deliberately rubbing himself against you every chance he gets despite the danger lurking due to the presence of an anomaly you had the enough luck to capture and send back just moments ago. He swallows nervously, the separating barrier between arousal and regret blurring in the face of getting what he wants at last.

“You know what.” You scoff, leaning your forearm up against the brick wall in front of you in favor of bending slightly down to force yourself into his personal space like how he did with yours. You’re fairly certain his eyes are blown wide in excitement, but you needed to hear it from his mouth - that he wanted it.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave and forget about all of this.”

He liked that about you, how you’re so easily considerate unlike the way your personality outwardly appears to be. For a moment, he considers it, but his core suddenly aches for your touch.

His hand tentatively reaches up, curling around your nape to tug you closer to his masked face. “No, I... I want you.” His words drawl out as foreign sin and lust on his tongue, but neither of you care. “Don’t go. This is what I want. Please.”

“Yeah?” You follow-up, your hand manages to slip down the front of his pants and you waste no time with palming his growing bulge through his boxers, “Want me to take care of you?”

Noir shakily nods his head, a choked gasp escaping his lungs when you apply the right amount of pressure around his cockhead to have his mind begin to haze. “Yes.” He manages, his hands frantically clutching onto your forearms to stabilize himself.

-

He thinks about how you haven’t grown downright exhausted with him yet. You keep on giving and giving to him until he can’t decide what to do with himself; his thoughts prominently melting into slick that pools at his slit and cascades down the length of his dick.

You’re knuckle-deep inside of him once more, the glove you’re using mildly dulling the pleasure but makes him brainless nonetheless. Your digit is thick and long enough for you to roughly prod at his sweet spot, with Noir eagerly asking for another one.

He’s acting as if he’s got something to prove to you. That he can take your cock, that he can make it fit inside of his tight hole. Noir gasps as you push in a second finger.

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” You praise lowly into his ear. Your frame against his is the only thing keeping him from sliding off the closed dumpster he was currently sat on - which should’ve turned him off, but he was hyper-focused on getting himself to come undone beneath the work of your hands.

He is doing good, Noir repeats inside of his head. A whimper slips his lips as he rocks his hips to provoke you into sinking in deeper. He relished in the stretch, a burn that molds itself into a peak.

Noir was yours - made for you as he had no protest despite the phantom whispers of overstimulation making themselves known.

[maddilynmuse]

Memory of Liar

Another fic for @mari-lair ‘s Siffrin? More like Sif’s Out AU based on this memory exclusive to it. This one got a lil long, as I think y’all can see. Also I enjoy writing Odile. Apologies for any formatting opposed, I wrote this on my computer but had to upload on my phone.

No major CW’s beyond just “Odile questioning Siffrin’s mental health.” Enjoy!

It hadn’t been too long since that one loop. That loop where they found out just how good Siffrin was at pretending to be fine. How convenient that not long after, Odile got a skill to deal with it. Memory of Liar. It allowed her to know when Siffrin was lying (albeit not by omission, but still). Ideally, it would be a niche skill at best, one to keep on for a loop or two and forget that she had-

“Hey Odile!”

Siffrin began his usual greetings. Seems Mirabelle reminded him about the clocktower “sleepover” this time. She must be feeling nostalgic; they’d all planned to meet up at the clocktower afterwards anyways, so there was no need to send Siffrin on a quest to go talk to them all, but given how low he got, how useless he felt, it made sense for her to give him a task. Would it be too cynical to say Mirabelle was establishing a baseline? Perhaps.

“So, what will you do after?” Siffrin asked her.

After. Gems, at this rate such a thing felt laughable, but she bit her tongue well enough. What had she planned to do after this? So much time had been spent on loops and the breaking of them that leaving Dormont was starting to feel like more of an impossibility than beating the King ever had been.

“I’ll probably go back to Ka Bue,” she said. It seemed like the next most logical step. She had a home there, after all. Besides, it might be nice to get far, far away from Dormont.

“And wrap up your research?”

���Research?” Oh, right. Her fake research.

“Your research into cultures-ology?”

Had he said that last time? When was the last time Mirabelle called for a sleepover? Gems, she didn’t like this.

“Cultures-ology isn’t a field of research, Siffrin.”

“But it is the field of research you spent your life trying to create…”

“No,” she said bluntly. He looked a little put off by that, so she changed the topic the most natural way she could. “What about you? What will you do after we beat the king?” If they ever get to leave Dormont, that is.

“Come up with my own field of research.”

… huh?

Something about what he said there, it sat oddly in her gut. It felt… wrong. But how could-

Right. Memory of Liar. He was lying. Of course he was, why wouldn’t he be? She knew from the start that was likely a joke, and a joke could count as a lie, she supposed. Maybe this ability wasn’t particularly discerning. She’d have to test that too, wouldn’t she? Would it activate at anything that wasn’t true? Or would it only activate if Siffrin was actively trying to deceive?

As Siffrin walked out again, only then did it occur to her… what did the rogue intend to do when he got out? Well, a question for the others, she supposed.

------

They were back at Dormont. It wasn’t of much use, asking the others. Bonnie and Mirabelle couldn’t remember off the top of their heads, but apparently Siffrin had told Isabeau they intended to start a comedy club… That sounded considerably more likely than them going into research, but she was still inclined to double check. It was nothing wasting a whole loop over, but they’d agreed that next time they looped back to Dormont, Mirabelle would tell Siffrin about the clocktower, and Isabeau and Odile would “switch places,” so to speak. She needed to be the one to hear him, so she had to come last.

As Siffrin got up sleepily, almost tauntingly laid back, he greeted Mirabelle saying the nap was a solid 9 out of ten… The thought that their rogue was rubbing in their lack of exhaustion was illogical, something she knew all too well, but maybe she wasn’t in a particularly giving mood as she squatted in the bushes against the protest of her knee. A few more pleasantries were shared and…

“Where will you go after?”

“Oh! You know… maybe a pilgrimage? I-I suppose this all kiiiiiinda already counted as a pilgrimage, but, um… does it?” Does it if she only half remembers some of it, so much time taken over by these last few days? Or was Odile projecting here?

It didn’t matter.

“What about you though Siffrin. What will you do after?” Mirabelle asked.

Odile watched him like a hawk as he had his little smile, looking up to the sky, and, “Go on a pilgrimage too, maybe.”

“Oh! That’d be lovely,” Mirabelle said.

If only it were true.

Odile waited for them to get to the store—the store she often started at but currently housed Isabeau—forcing herself up and stumbling like a drunk from the woods, knee seizing up all the way. Mirabelle rushed over, using a bit of healing craft on her.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, I’m fine…” Odile said, though sighed in relief at the healing craft easing the pain.

“… so?” Mirabelle said.

“He was lying. He has no intention to go on a pilgrimage.”

Mirabelle sighed but nodded. Neither of them were surprised, really?

“Can you even go on a pilgrimage if all you do is travel anyways? What’s even the difference?” Odile muttered to herself. “Ah, no use now. I have to catch up before Isabeau runs out of ways to stall.” Thankfully it was a short walk. The door was open, she simply had to linger near it.

“What will you do after?” Siffrin asked Isabeau.

Seems she was right on time.

“Eh, I’ll probably just go back to Jouvente. Not sure about rejoining the Defenders, not after they left Mira, but maybe I’ll try some clothing design?”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were interested in that. That sounds great, Isa!”

“Heh, thanks Sif. But what about you? What will you do when we beat the King?”

Assuming Isabeau did a good enough job of recapping what he said before, presumably Siffrin’s answer would be the same…

“Start a comedy club!”

… that one wasn’t true either? She’d honestly thought it might be, or at least that it was fifty fifty, but no. Almost a shame, it fit all too well. Then again, it meant more people were spared his puns…

She tuned out the rest in favor of trying to get a head start on making it to the East side of town. Siffrin tended to dawdle when left to his own devices, but still would be nice to find a way to listen in that wouldn’t be physically painful this time…

Oh right. There’s a building here, right near Bonnie. She’d basically gone blind to it, considering it no more than any other house: pointless. Though she did know the open phrase, well, the only thing of value was the “Long Thingy Thing” (as Bonnie put it), and they didn’t really need to go through the trouble of crafting a bomb at this point. That said, she did know the open phrase, so she could probably get inside, and she could hear Bonnie, but could she hear Siffrin? Then again, once Siffrin was near Bonnie, she could sneak closer.

And so she did. It went off almost disappointingly easily. Gems alive, what she wouldn’t give for something to go awry in a way that would let her dig her teeth into something again. But no, no. This was more efficient. (Everything was efficiency these days, that’s how Siffrin got so bad).

She crept closer as the two talked. Siffrin was needling Bonnie, and Bonnie was rising to the bait. Was it genuine irritation and stress, or just their mimicry of it? She wasn’t sure, maybe both. Not too long in, the question came up.

“Well what about you, Frin? What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll go to space.”

… she didn’t even need the Memory equipped to know that that was a bald-faced lie, but she supposed that confirmation was nice? Well this one was a waste of time. Best to try to slip out towards the favor tree and play her own part.

Four different answers, none of them true. Why would he hide what he intended to do after? Maybe earlier in their adventure together she would’ve assumed that it was for nefarious purposes, but if he was an assassin on the behalf of the King or anything like that, he’d probably have done something to stop them on at least one of the occasions that they killed him. Whatever happened with Euphraise usually seemed centered on him, but he always looked shocked, so it was unlikely he expected it any more than the rest of them had the first time.

So if not foul play, then why? Some charitable part of her mind wanted to say his plans were just embarrassing, but…

As they’d recently learned the hard way, their little rogue wasn’t nearly as fine as he seemed. All it took was one day of them taking the lead a bit too much for him to consider himself a useless idiot. He rarely spoke of home. Never spoke of loved ones, at least not for more than a few sentences. He’d taken losing his eye almost too well. She wouldn’t say that he was at risk of becoming a Sadness or doing something willingly stupid, but the more she thought on it, the more things painted a picture she didn’t like the look of, but couldn’t afford to look away from either.

If she didn’t know better, she could mistake him for a ghost. A spirit. Maybe even some Expression. Nothing but a being floating through to help. But she’d seen him eat, seen his blood splatter on the floor, heard his gasps and screams at hard hits. She’d seen him lose an eye. Ghosts didn’t do that. He was flesh and blood yet missing so much he seemed almost insubstantial. Was he aware of this one some level? And what could do that to a person? Gems alive, she knew he had bad memory, but maybe she should’ve been delving deeper into it. Why hadn’t she? It wasn’t like her to see something so strange, to see someone start stories over and over that never reach an end, to see him speak of things and lose his train of thought halfway through, and she just…

Never questioned this?

Gems alive, her head was pounding along with the beat of her heart, but she screwed her eyes shut and blocked the world out, determined to follow this rabbit hole down. Something was wrong here, and maybe if she could puzzle out what, if she could find the missing piece, she could somehow make him whole again and, expressions willing, maybe that’d be the key to fixing this whole mess. Maybe it’d set them free. She just had to figure out why-

“Hey, Odile, are you okay?”

She jolted, whipping her head around to see, “Gems, Siffrin. You startled me…”

“Sorry,” he said. “Thinking on your wish?”

“Hah, no, I already made that,” she said. A stupid wish to win a coin flip that came to nothing in the end. And unimportant. She had to figure out… figure out…

Had to figure out what Siffrin intended to do with his life, right? Yes, that’s what she’d been doing.

“I was just… trying to figure out what to do afterwards,” she said. Maybe it was manipulative, but if she pretended she needed suggestions, maybe he’d offer something more tangible?

“Hmm? You don’t already know? I figured you’d wrap up your research.”

No, that’s right. He already had that idea in mind, didn’t he? She let out a bitter chuckle. “I’ll let you in on a secret. There is no research, Siffrin. It was just a convenient lie to explain why I’m here.”

He looked at her with a hard to read expression. “But… huh???”

They were off balance. Good. Maybe it’d trick him into saying something real.

“Yes, yes, sorry to give the game away, but I guess I realized that if I don’t admit it now, I might never. And I wouldn’t want to actually beat the King and then have to figure out what next. Plus I figure if I have a plan for after, if I have a goal, I might be more driven to reach it. Whatever helps, yes? So, any ideas?”

He was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, clearly thrown off. “You could… actually start researching something? Or, um… aren’t you writing a book?”

“My journal? That’s just personal notes. It’d be nonsense to anyone else.”

“Oh.”

She waited but, no, they weren’t offering anything up, were they. She’d have to take the offensive.

“What about you, Siffrin? What do you plan to do after?”

“Oh, uh…” he looked around and shrugged. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”

… not a lie. Interesting…

“Oh? Why not? I mean, you’re not even from Vaugaurde, you must have joined for some reason, right?” She could list theories, but that’d likely give him an out. She was wise to his game. At least half his answers, maybe more, were just mimicking what the other person intended to do. Otherwise it’s just what they’d most likely want to hear, save for perhaps telling Bonnie they’d go to space. An interesting outlier, that one. It seemed innocuous, but maybe it was important?

No, focus now. Theorize later.

Siffrin squirmed a little and finally chuckled awkwardly, offering an awkward shrug. “I didn’t really have anything better to do…”

And gems alive, he was not lying.

“I… see.”

Maybe she should let him go, but she needed to know one more thing first…

“And after we all go our own ways, you’ll be alright, right?”

“I guess I’ll go back to how I was before.”

Not a lie, but not an answer either. “And were you happy before?”

“Of course!”

She needed to talk to the others about this.

——————

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[kquil]

PERFECT MATCH PART 2

PAIR. : poly!marauders x female slytherin reader

SUM. : despite being from Slytherin, as a fellow prankster, you give the marauders a helping hand

LENGTH : 1.2k

PART 1 | NAVI.

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Peter had blown their cover, and now the boys were running from Slughorn, who had caught them red-handed, switching the necessary ingredients for the next potion class. They should have known that Peter wasn’t the best choice for a lookout, considering he was the first to get caught and promptly given detention with Filch. As they were running away, however, their camaraderie lingered when Peter called out to them, hoping they wouldn’t be caught. 

The remaining three marauders make a valiant effort to run away as fast as possible. Remus stays a good few metres ahead of James and Sirius, his hidden athleticism sparking in only the most dire straits. Despite the potential threat of detention, the three grin widely through the chase; Sirius has the gall to laugh at the sheer amount of fun he’s experiencing. The freedom to break the rules and run freely from the consequences – only light penalisation in his eyes – was invigorating. None of them believe they would ever willingly stop their practical jokes, even Remus, no matter how much he denies it.

Racing through the halls with their youth pumping through their veins, Remus, James and Sirius make it so that Slughorn is considerably far behind them before slowing down. Between laboured breaths, they try to sort out their next move but quickly run out of time. Slughorn was quickly approaching according to their map and they resorted to hiding in a darkened hallway they don’t normally walk down. Consumed by the rush, they had managed to make it down to the dungeons just as you stepped out of the hallway they had barely hidden in.

They weren’t very good hiders but it was amusing so you kept your lips sealed despite your mischievous nature urging you to press them with questions. Your answer came swiftly in the form of Professor Slughorn, out of breath and keeling over with sweat drenching his brows. 

So that’s what’s happening~ 

Immediately understanding the situation, you step out of the hallway to face your gasping head of house and restrain a devious giggle at the sight of the marauders’ widened eyes. They’ve seen you, see them hiding. They’re also familiar with your artfully scheming ways likened to their marauder group’s mischief; the fact that you’re a Slytherin, however, doesn’t bode well. Fuck…were you gonna out them? 

You don’t need any prompting, already directing the professor before he’s managed to catch his breath, “Oh Professor~ by the way, if you’d really like to know…” Slughorn eyes you after finally catching his breath. Through the fog of his exhausted mind, he finds himself eagerly awaiting your direction, almost having forgotten why he was in his current state in the first place, “they went that way,” you point to the right, the opposite direction of the three tricksters. James, Remus and Sirius release a collective breath of relief but remain eager to see how the interaction may unfold further. 

“Who did?” Slughorn asks, trying to navigate the smog of fatigue clogging up his brain. 

“The marauders,”

“They did?” your potions professor brightens at the revelation. You guess he’s finally rediscovered his initial intentions. But woe is me~ can he trust you so easily? 

“They did what?” you tilt your head innocently, casually continuing the conversation as if you hadn’t just thrown him for a loop with that curveball of a question. 

“Went that way?” he points right, perplexed at your sudden change. It seems Professor Slughorn was still foggy in the head from his sapped stamina and the boys had to bite their lips from bursting out laughing – you’re a menace. 

“Who did?” you ask, pulling the most innocuous expression the boys have ever seen a Slytherin muster. Have you grown more beautiful since their last interaction? They can’t help but keep staring at your sweet face and pretty, pouty lips…

“The marauders!” Slughorn insists but you continue your oblivious stance. 

“What marauder?”

“But didn’t you just say?-- Oh never mind,” Slughorn gives up the chase and turns with a dull swish of his robes. For now, he’s satisfied that he, at least, managed to get Pettigrew. As soon as Slughorn was far enough away, you turn back to the crouching marauders and give them a wink, signalling that the coast was clear. 

“My fair lady!” Sirius dramatically bows down and kisses your knuckles, “How may I ever repay your kind gesture?”

“Hmmm…” you seem to seriously contemplate his playful words for a moment, though Sirius doesn’t mind, he’s more than eager to pay you back for saving his hide. “Let’s see…” You press your hand flat against his chest and slowly move down. The sultry overtones of your gesture make Sirius’ heart pound as he, Remus and James stare wide-eyed and gaping at your soft hands fondling their close friend’s chest. Suddenly your hand becomes a blur as you pull back his robe and steal a licorice wand from his inner breast pocket. “This’ll do~” you chirp innocently and begin to nibble on your newly acquired snack. “I can always count on you to be generous, Siri,” your wink sends a dangerous heat crawling up Sirius’ neck and exploding across his pale cheeks. This has never happened to him with a girl before! He’s supposed to make you flustered! 

Turning to Remus, you make a gesture with your hand as if to say ‘pay up’. However, when the tall brunette merely stares at you in wonder with a small, amused quirk on his lips, you raise a brow, “I know you’re loaded, Lupin. Gimme the goods,” and just like that, you also have Remus turning bright pink. How can you be so nonchalant and not realise the embarrassingly sexual innuendos underpinning your words?! Remus surrenders a peppermint toad. 

James was the last one of the three you turn to as you pocket Remus’ liberal offer. “You don’t have to ask me, for anything,” James chuckles and easily provides you with a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees. With a victorious smile, like a cute little squirrel who’s happy with her hoard, you pocket James’ addition and lean forward to brush a kiss along his sharp jaw. 

“I knew I could count on you, Potter,” 

James was floored. Sirius had to lean against the wall and Remus was limp against the large window sill. All three stare with a mix of surging admiration and boyish wonder as you walk away with a skip in your step. You’re so happy, you even begin to hum a soft little tune to yourself. 

“...wait… how come only James gets a kiss?” Remus asks, bringing Sirius back from his dazed state. James merely smirks in triumph – he’ll remember the softness of your pretty lips against his skin forever~

“Dearest!” Sirius calls, already jogging after you. “I think you’ve forgotten something!” 

“Yeah,” Remus adds with a cheeky grin, leisurely making his way over with James at his side, drawling in his Welsh accent, “gives us a cusan,” 

“What’s that?” you’ve stopped, curious as to what he may mean. From his tall height, Remus leans forward, bending at his hips and whispers in your ear. 

“That’s a kiss, sweetheart,” he steals one anyway at the base of your ear, where your neck and jaw meet. The high sensitivity of the area makes you squeal in surprise, only to be kissed by Sirius too, who aims innocently for your cheek. 

NAVI.

A/N : because of @urmomw4ntsme 's recent ask of wanting to see a Slytherin reader, it got me thinking about this request that i wrote last year for my 1k milestone. I couldn’t sleep until i finished writing this so it may not have the best grammar so please excuse me for that. this was also inspired by this interaction between Alice and the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

[buckets-and-trees]

EVERY MINUTE OF IT

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Claimed unequivocally by Alpha Bucky Barnes, leader of the growing HYDRA faction, that's not the end of it. But what exactly is in store for you? What will it mean to be his Omega?

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; mild manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: spanking, vaginal fingering, biting, rough sex, choking, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, spitting, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, dacryphilia, overstimulation, erotic picture taking

Author Notes: Part three to what I never planned on being a series - the Alpha Bucky April drabble was only 500 words, the next part hit 1.5k, but this... well, let's just say this Bucky absolutely had his way with both me and my muse. This one will be a make up to tick orgasm delay/denail for MARCH of @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ; and the dialogue, alpha, and pet prompts for the second week of Hot Bucky Summer (thought this was going to be a short little thing I was going to whip out before week two had finished, but alas hahaha).

A/N 2: We've seen only a bit of his rough side up to this pont, but in this part we will truly see mean Alpha Bucky. Don't say I didn't warn you - here and with the actual content warning list.

A/N 3: I tried not to write any plot with this porn, but a minimal amount forced its way in.

He had made good on his threat, using your body for pleasure and for show under the full moon until there was no one left to watch, but you were not sure he had been keeping close track, instead merely taking you over and over until they grey hours of dawn. You had been too exhausted to register anything much after that – being carried away, a car ride, being tucked into a bed.

You had woken up in the afternoon alone.

Alone for the first time in three days.

On hearing you make your way to the bathroom someone had brought in water and left an impressive spread of food that lasted you through the afternoon and evening. You grazed and slept.

Your body and mind had been pushed beyond all previous limits, and so the sleep and rest had been most of those first few days after the full moon and the conqueror’s bonding ritual.

But now, a week on, you are tired, restless, and impatient.

You were in a spacious penthouse, you had been offered many luxuries, well fed by a personal chef, attended to by an assistant, your only restrictions being denied access to a phone or internet and barred from leaving the premises.

Should you have chosen an unplugged retreat or vacation, it would be perfect.

After contemplating and debating internally all morning, at lunch you make your decision. You finish yet another delicious meal, wipe your mouth with the beautiful linen napkin, and then set it down next to the bone china and plated gold utensils. The staff begins to move around you, and your assistant approaches.

Before she can say anything else, you take a deep breath and say, “I need to see him.”

There’s no question of who you mean.

She nods. “I’ll make the request.”

Whether pet or prisoner and left alone for more than seven days, you do not believe your request will be seen as any sort of priority, so when you see the more formal dining table set for two for dinner, your mouth drops open for a moment, and you stop in your tracks.

You turn to your assistant – even though she tries to afford you most of your privacy, she is ever on the edge of your presence. She looks as surprised as you. “I was given no response other than that they’d take the request under consideration.”

You nod, then pace, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, until you finally hear the rustle and then commotion of activity that announces his arrival.

Your heart races, but it’s only a few more moments before the large and imposing alpha, Bucky Barnes, appears in front of you.

“Omega,” he says with a mere nod of his head, no pretense.

Your eyes narrow a fraction, wary of his seemingly easy demeanor. “Alpha.”

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the table.

You nod and take a seat as he does.

Within seconds, the meal is brought in by two attendants and the chef, and Bucky thanks and praises them very simply.

He occasionally looks at you, regarding you, but does not speak.

Before long, you huff, and he looks up sharply, pinning you with his steel blue eyes, harsher than at any point since he’d arrived. “What?” he demands.

“What is all of this?” you start, gesturing your hand to indicate the penthouse. “And where have you been?”

He sets down his knife and fork and straightens a little more. “Is it not to suited to your liking? You can change anything you want. This is your place.”

“My place?” you ask.

“Yes, your place. It is not far from the place I’ve taken up residence.”

The revelation is not surprising, but somehow more irritating. “And what? You’ve had me and now you’re discarding me?”

“I should have thought you’d want your own place.”

Maybe you should want your own place, away from him. And yet…

“I should be wherever you are.”

“What?” he scoffs. “So you can be embroiled in my affairs and bring me down? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

The accusation wounds you, though you know it’s only logical – and you know what you’re thinking and feeling isn’t logical. You have determined to put off thinking about it.

“I’m not your friend,” you state, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “but I’m not your enemy either.”

“What should I call you then?” he challenges.

You raise your chin a fraction. “I’m your Omega.”

He doesn’t speak or move immediately. Instead, his eyes somehow fix you even more intently. There’s a burning in your chest under his scrutiny, but you remain still.

Finally, he stands and moves toward you, the two of you never taking your eyes off the other.

“You are my Omega.”

He comes to stand behind your chair, and you remain unmoving. He takes your chin in his left hand and tilts your head to expose your neck to him. He leans down and noses along your jaw, inhaling your scent and putting your body on alert. You feel the curling tendrils of want stir in your core, already awakening for him. He tilts your head even more and draws his teeth along the side of your throat, causing a shiver you can’t suppress, and he chuckles darkly and licks at the fresher of the two bonding marks he gave you. His hot tongue, insistently pressing at the bite elicits a small noise from you, and your right hand shoots up to card into his hair. Your full omega side wants him, has started to slicken your pussy for him already, you can feel it. You know your alpha can smell it.

He bites over the mark, but not roughly enough to break the skin, and you arch up for more, but he pushes himself back up, away from you and the crook of your neck.

“So needy,” he remarks, “I like this.”

The first few days you’d spent with him, he’d kept you full of his cock, tortured with pleasure, overwhelmed, exhausted by him and the recipient of a seemingly insatiable lust unleashed on you.

This feels like the predator is going to play with his prey, and you bite your lip. He pushes your head, tilted to the left, to the right to drop into his other hand, clearly testing your compliance. It’s gentle, but it’s dominant. Back to the left, then to the right, and then he dips to nip at your ear, and you gasp.

Bucky releases your head from between his large hands then pulls your chair away from the table. “Up.”

You stand. He puts one hand on your hip and ushers you around the edge of the table and to the side, in the middle, and turns you to face the wide expanse of mahogany and its centerpiece of fresh flowers – white peonies, white roses, white hydrangeas.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructs.

You press the palms of your hands onto the smooth, dark wood. Your omega side is ready – even eager – to comply, but with your own long game to play, you know you must play out whatever game he desires now.

“Arch your back,” is his next direction.

Keeping your breathing even, you do, hips jutting away from the table, on display for him.

The back of his hand lands at the nape of your neck, and he drags his knuckles slowly down your spine. Your body rocks back, seeking more, as he reaches the small of your back, and he hums in self-satisfaction.

While his vibranium hand plants itself on your hip, he moves the other around to skim slowly over your stomach, then up your rib cage, and to your breast. He gropes the round flesh through your shirt and bra, but the fabric does nothing to quell how the pressure stokes the fire growing in you.

You feel the heat of him press up your back as his hand moves now up your neck, turning your head to kiss him. You push back against him, and he ruts his bulge slightly into your ass. Your lips are hungry in the kiss, but it’s like he only provided his lips for you to kiss him, receiving what your lips want to give. He moves his hand back down to your chest, but this time slipping beneath the neckline and going flesh to flesh to palm your breast. He kneads diligently, almost methodically, and you know all of this is designed to warm you up, tease you, get you burning for him. He’s still largely a stranger to you, but you also know you can’t resist him. He’s spent so much time already playing with your body. He knows where and how to touch you to make you respond to him after those first days and nights spent naked with him.

Bucky moves again, ending the kiss, drawing away from your back and removing the hand from your breast. You whine, but that hand goes to the small of your back again, the vibranium hand squeezing your hip as he forces you spine to resume the curving posture for him once more.

“We’re only getting started, Omega. Be patient.”

You huff, and he laughs.

The fingers of both his hands slip into the top of your waistband. He slowly pulls your pants and underwear down over your hips, and down your legs to mid-thigh. It restricts your bottom extremities, and that plays into the mental game he’s clearly playing with you. His hands move up the back of your naked thighs, and then palms your ass with both hands. He squeezes both cheeks, goes back to palming them again, then withdraws his right hand and slaps that cheek harshly. You jump and yelp, but he merely goes back to palming and squeezing, soothing the smacked flesh. Then another slap, and you hiss at the sting over the first sting. His vibranium hand continues groping your round flesh, but instead of soothing the second smack, his flesh hand dips down to your dripping hole, where he inserts two fingers, then quickly adds a third.

“Alpha,” you moan, and your head falls back, eyes closed both to hold back a couple of tears and to soak in the barrage of sensations.

He doesn’t answer, but his fingers continue dipping in and out, slow and shallow.

He delivers another harsh slap, immediately returns to the maddening fingering until you’re keening and trying to hump his hand.

Abruptly he grips your hips with both hands and turns you around to face him. The cool metal hand grips you by the neck, tilting your face up helplessly to him, and this kiss is messy, demanding, teeth nipping at your lips. You kiss him back as well as you can as he is in full control of your head and holds you where he wants you. Both your hands hold tightly to his forearm, and you squeeze.

His other hand goes to the cut of you again below, but there’s more fervor there this time. He plunders your mouth and plunders your pussy, and you’re losing your breath, but you have no wish for him to relent as you feel the powerful orgasm you crave building and barreling towards you. His fingers curl against the spongy spot on your inner wall, this thumb is demanding against your pulsing clit, and his tongue is licking dominantly into your mouth. You’re trembling and clutching at him, moaning, only when your breath hitches, inches away from bliss, he pulls back.

You cry out as he looms over you. His smirk is cruel, and his eyes spark with fire.

“Alpha!”

He licks his one of his fingers, just one.

“Alpha, please,” you groan.

“My well-mannered Omega,” he coos. “We’ll make a mess of you yet,” he says. You’re unsure whether it’s a threat or a promise, but you have no space or time to think as he moves you again, hoisting and pushing you by the grip on your chin around and away from the table until your back is flush against the wall.

Bucky pushes you down to your knees, pinches your mouth open, then spits on your tongue. "Swallow it."

You don’t think, just swallow as his eyes bore into yours as he towers over you.

He strokes his thumb over your cheek – nearly a caress, and you can’t help leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Then his thumb moves from your cheek to your lips, tracing them before pressing down to open your mouth again. He inserts two of the fingers that had been in your cunt into your mouth, and you close your mouth and begin to suck without him having to say so. The look on his face shows his approval. As you suck, there’s something so soothing about, the weight of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, the stead rhythm, that it that lulls you even further into a state of submission for him. Your eyes begin to droop.

He chuckles and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on your face. “Don’t want that so soon in our evening.”

He begins to unbuckle his belt, and you reach for the button and zipper, but he bats your hands away and slaps your cheek.

You look up sharply at him, reaching to soothe your cheek.

“Ask nicely for your Alpha’s cock, Omega.”

His first nights with you were about physical domination. This is the other half, yielding, submission.

You think best how to ask, before saying, “Please let me put my lips around your cock, Alpha.”

He unbuttons his trousers but keeps his eyes on yours. “Tell me how you want me to use your mouth, Omega,”

“I…” you bite your lip. You aren’t a stranger to sex, but speaking so directly about it isn’t something you’ve done with any of your partners in the past.

Bucky lowers the zipper. He pushes the band of his boxers down far enough to free his cock, and you whimper. He fists his arousal slowly. “You want it, then tell me what you want exactly. You’ve already let me use your body in so many ways, we both know you want more. What are you craving?”

You wait only another beat before answering, “Want you to fuck my throat.”

You are impressed at the evenness of your own tone in that moment, and his lips tick up as well.

Bucky widens his stance, then leans down to wrap his left arm around your head, holding it – almost cradling it – in the crook of his elbow. The he pushes his cock to your lips, you open for him, he pushes in, and starts truly fucking your mouth. The first few thrusts are slow, but insistent. He fills your mouth with more of him with each of those first thrusts. Then the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. He thrusts out and in again, again, again. His other hand strokes your cheek. Then he slaps it, and you groan around his cock.

“Mmmm, fuck you feel good,” he echoes your groan. “Gonna take all of your alpha’s cock down this pretty throat,” he says, and his hand moves down to your neck, feeling himself push in there.

Your eyes are tearing up, and the tears quickly start to spill over as he continues to use your throat, never removing himself completely now that he’s overtaken your mouth. He slaps your cheek twice in quick succession and you sob around his cock as you can manage. It’s hard to breathe, and your chest heaves. You brace yourself against his thighs, and he straightens and pulls out of you.

Bucky moves quickly, taking you by the shoulders and tossing you into the middle of the floor – rough but not violent.

“Clothes off,” he barks, but it’s he didn’t need to employ an alpha command to get you to comply. You barely have enough time to discard your pants and underwear the rest of the way, and only manage to get your shirt over your head in the time it takes him to get naked.

He’s on you the next instant, covering your body with his. With his chest pressed down against yours, you feel how his breathing is just as heavy as your own, glad he’s not as unaffected as he’s tried to play this encounter.

You hitch your thighs up around his torso and squeeze your knees around him.

But he doesn’t give you what you’re most anxious for yet, instead pausing to study your face.

“Such a pretty mess,” he admires.

Heat pulses through your body, his praise undeniable to your omega side.

He dips his head to lap up the salt of some of your tears, tongue dragging slowly up your cheek. When he draws back again, he merely looks at you. His eyes seem to be looking for something, but you don’t know what. You try not to give him anything outside of this moment.

His pelvis is lodged between your hips, so you squirm beneath him, hoping your hot, dripping cunt will call him back to your pressing needs. He groans and drops his forehead to yours, another sign he’s not as cool and detached as he was at the outset.

“Please, please fuck me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Fill you up with my cock? With my seed?”

“Yes, Alpha!”

He draws his hips back and you reach down and help line up his cock with your hole. He spears in with no mercy, and you don’t need or want it. You groan together as he fills you completely.

Your mouths meet again, and it’s a combination of rough messy kisses, nipping and bites, licking, mingled heavy breaths. It’s primal and unhinged, and there’s no thought to it as he continues to fuck you.

The pace at which he thrusts is relentless and just what you need, but also not enough.

You want more and you whimper and beg through kissing for it.

Bucky continues fucking you and pulls away from your lips, but in no way is he done overwhelming you. Leaning heavily onto his vibranium arm planted next to your head, he moves his other arm and presses his inner wrist up and down your neck insistently. The sound that escapes your mouth is broken and needy as the flooding of his scent directly In and around you engulfs your senses. Then he’s also sucking on your original bonding mark until you are a heaving, panting, crying mess, clawing at his back, unable to even put coherent words together to beg for him.

His shifts just enough that his pubic bone grinds down against your clit as he pounds into your pussy. You are practically vibrating with the impending orgasm, and as your alpha can undoubtedly sense that through the bond, he bites down on your mark, and you scream and fly into your release. Your walls clench hard around him, and he growls through two more powerful thrusts before he shouts, and you feel the heat of his seed star to fill you up. He pumps and pumps until he’s left every drop he can inside of you, then collapses on top of you.

He doesn’t move, pressing you down with all his weight as you both recover from the ecstasy you’ve just experienced. You almost move to stroke your fingers up and down his spine, but you quell that impulse. You do allow yourself to keep your hands on his back though – still, but connected to this man, your alpha, who dealt you such rough but undeniable pleasure.

Finally, Bucky pushes up off you, but surprises you when he scoops you up and carries you away bridal style, heading toward your bedroom.

“Alpha?”

“You really want to live under the same roof?” he asks.

 “Yes,” you answer simply.

He glances down at your face, brows furrowed, then looks back ahead as he heads down the hallway.

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, entering your room.

He tosses you onto the bed, and crawls up over you again. He reaches beneath your back to unclasp your bra, and you let him pull it from your shoulders and toss it off to the side. Closing the gap between your bodies, you relish the feeling of his bare chest against yours, his chest hair teasing your nipples. He grips your chin yet again, this time with his vibranium hand, and looks into your eyes with a steely, cold stare.

“If you’re anything other than the good omega I require, I will send you back here, but it won’t be like this last week has been. You will be in absolute exile. Don’t test me – there will be no chances.”

You give a single nod of your head.

He pushes up and leans back then, kneeling above you.

“But you don’t want to jeopardize or risk that, do you?”

“No, Bucky.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than alpha and he clocks that, you see the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes.

“You want to be with your alpha, you want the limited freedom you know I can give you if I choose to, but you also have your own agenda”

It wasn’t a question, and you know you can’t fool him – you know he is too smart for that, and you know he knows you are intelligent in your own right. He made it clear when he closed in on your people’s territory that’s why your compliance and claiming you as his omega was part of the deal of surrender to spare any more bloodshed.

“Cross me and your future will only be visitations when I require you to service my ruts.”

You don’t doubt his threat.

“Do we have an accord, Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The words you two exchanged the fateful night of that initial surrender.

He nods.

“It seems fitting to seal it by kiss.”

You sit up and then kneel before him on the bed, he bends his head down to kiss you. It’s fervent, solemn, but he cuts it off before it develops into anything more.

“Stay here,” he orders, sliding off the bed.

That was an alpha command – wholly unnecessary except to remind you of his power.

You scowl at his retreating form, then huff once he’s out of the room.

He’s quick, and when he comes back in the room, he is slowly stroking his cock with one hand, and holds his phone in the other. He steps up to the edge of the bed.

“A kiss here, as well,” he says, pushing his hips forward.

You crawl to him, lower your head, and kiss his cock. He nods at you, indicating he expects more. You take the tip of his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lave your tongue around the tip, and then suck, looking up at him. He takes a few photos, moaning at your ministrations.

“Fuck you couldn’t look more pretty and more ruined,” he whispers. He tosses the phone down, then pushes you off him and back onto the bed, manhandling your hips to get you planted in the center of the mattress with your thighs splayed open obscenely.

“Only fair for me to finish sealing the agreement and kiss these lips as well.”

He dives in like a man starved, despite the rounds you’ve just finished. He pulls your next orgasm quickly from your fluttering pussy. You would be surprised, only you’ve come to accept that he has already acquired a dangerous – and delicious – knowledge of your body.

He looks up at you and grins and then goes in immediately for another.

You try and push him away and close your legs, feeling overstimulated, but he growls and roughly forces your thighs open again.

“Your one chance of being my good omega is already begun. So, you’re going to let me eat the pussy that belongs to me until you’re a sobbing overstimulated mess and think you can’t possibly take any more, but you will. And since this should be the last night we ever spend in this bed, when I’ve had my fill of lapping at your sweet, dripping cunt, I’m going to see if I can’t fuck you hard and long enough to break the bed.”

You can only hope your gamble to deal with the devil of HYDRA will not be your undoing.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest full Fine Line Collection

Everyone check your pulse, please. Mine is gone.

I'm not saying this is officially a series, but I think we HAVE fallen into a collection territory... Unless y'all are through with this Alpha Bucky...

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[lxmelle]

Those letters for his students was like Gojo’s way of showing consideration for them.

That’s what Geto Suguru, the “Gojo translator”, would say to them, if he was there.

I mean, there was a reason they were best friends - Geto understood him the best. He helped him learn how to (and the importance of) connecting to others - how to not be lonely.

It was the same in the scene with Kuroi. Right before he shouted for Gojo over the time, he just instinctively knew how to connect with Gojo and helped others with sympathising with Gojo.

I didn’t play the JJK game but I think the undercurrent dynamics is similar. Their bond. The exclusivity. Love. The whole breakup was about their friendship. The change the new generation got was also due to the path forged by them. As it stands, Gojo is shown to be largely misunderstood and nobody aside from Yuta has shown much affection for Gojo. Maybe Yuji ... to some degree. But I digress.

Maybe it’s an unpopular opinion, but considering how Geto-centred Gojo’s GIGA Character book was, he was likely influenced by Geto’s strong protective love for his “family”.

It makes sense to me that Gojo thought it would be important to put the students’ minds at ease with any thoughts/questions about their family. Hence the letters to help tie up loose ends.

Megumi was shown to be thinking about his father, whin he assumed was out there somewhere. Even if he didn’t want to know, there is a subconscious level of unfinished business from thinking this. And to know that Gojo killed him, may have helped him realise that his sensei had his back all this while. He was worth protecting all this while. That chapter of his life can truly close.

And just how bloody typical of his sensei, who has no “delicate-ness” about him!

As a sensei, and as a person, Gojo always protected others from his own personal concerns. He and Geto both stubbornly lived & fought “alone” because this was just their belief as the burden of the strongest = to protect others. The line was drawn and Gojo only ever wanted Geto to understand him, hence his conversation in 236. Only ever needed Geto by his side: hence his only complex was Geto leaving him behind.

We see this in how Shoko felt distant from them both. Stating in her inner monologue how she could never love either of them, but she was there - insinuating what they had between them was not something she could give (love) but her friendship was there if only Gojo let her in. And we see it in how, when she tried to connect with Gojo post-unsealing, by including Geto’s body as someone to be retrieved, he was a bit taken aback, starting his sentence with a long pause “……...” and keeping it simple / not elaborating (だな - it’s like the equivalent of a “yeah” but implies agreement).

Also, the fact the students and others can joke and call him an idiot, etc. means he really hid it well. Gojo protected them all. (As a teacher and adult should, I guess.)

I’m reminded of this scene.

Geto helped Gojo empathise & “not bully the weak”, but to also consider what else may be important... even if they may not think so themselves.

Until they receive what they thought they didn’t want, only to realise it was what they needed after all.

Cuz… y’kow: people (especially children) don’t always know what they want or need.

Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need. What you need isn’t necessarily what you want.

Gojo & Geto lived through that too... didn’t they? On so many levels… wanting, needing, denying, losing, yearning. Carrying their burdens they had nobody to share with. Making decisions on their own. Giving to the other a piece of their heart. Sacrificing themselves. Accepting each others loneliness as their own. Thinking they were better off loving the other by being apart.

The painful lessons that shaped the way for the new world. Children given the protection from The Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Era. Granted a world with fewer curses for 10 years due to the Strongest Curse User.

Children who had adults to guide, protect, and care for them.

Children who do not have to be killed for the mistakes of others, who were forced to commit sins, or for being born a certain way.

I think every single sorcerer who were adults helped the kids in some way. The layers and layers of this story is just... overwhelmingly beautiful.

Much remains to be seen now. I’m worried that Yuta will have to live in Gojo’s body and that Kenjaku’s eerie words of Yuta being “the next Gojo Satoru” will extend beyond that battle.

People on X seem to be speculating whether a world without curses will exist (going back to jjk 0 and Geto’s ideals). What of the barriers without tengen? Some question reality as we are being shown - is it an elaborate dream? Hm.

I hope for the plant/flower trio at least... Megumi and Yuji can use their shared tragedy as vessels who committed sins to bond and support one another. Nobara is a great buffer and heroine in her own right. Their dynamics are really amazing. Independent, yet so bonded.

I’d love to see Gojo & Geto at peace. I guess whatever happens, chapter 236 is a bit like salvation. And doesn’t Megumi’s smiling pic (above) look similar? If these two smiled as if they had no regrets , we can assume Megumi smiled sincerely upon receiving the letter, too.

As long as Gege doesn’t do anything to change it.

Please please don’t. They deserve a reward for their hard work and sacrifice!

[slutforgarlogan]

"Youre a pretty little thing" | Michael Langdon x F! reader.

Summary: based off this request. Michael Langdon showing off to the coven witches and using the seven wonders to impress you because he has a crush on you

A/N: guys i love him im a catholic and he's the antichrist we're like romeo and juliet. also the writing on this one is questionable n clunky but im on wine and cider so it needs to be forgiven

When the warlocks had told Cordelia they wanted to have Michael perform the seven wonders, Michael had felt determined to get it done quickly and better than Cordelia could do it, to prove he was the next supreme, and no one could argue it.

However, when the witches had arrived telling him they agreed to it, and he could attempt to perform the seven wonders, Michael had found himself a little distracted by one of the witches, you. His new goal was to impress you.

First wonder: Telekinesis. This one was easy and simple, he just had to move something without touching it. He did so, quickly and with ease, shooting a cocky smirk at the witches, eyes lingering on you a little.

Second wonder: Concilium. Michael knew he could be crafty with this one - control of the mind. He looked at you, and as you made eye contact, you knew you were going to be the victim of him showing off this power.

You could feel yourself moving towards him, very much against your will, and you took mental note of the fact that though you yourself were a very powerful witch, he was powerful enough that you couldn't even try and fight it.

To your surprise, despite the weird evil vibe you've all been getting from him, all he makes you do is dance with him. You uncontrollably slow dance with him, unsure whether it's his pretty face or the magic thats making you kind of nervous, but whatever it is, you scold yourself for thinking that way about a man that even one of the warlocks is scared of.

When he's done making you dance with him, you awkwardly do the walk of shame back over to stand next to Zoe, awkwardly smiling at her.

Third wonder: Transmutation. Another easy one, Michael thought. Madison had tapped him on the shoulder, and in turn, he had appeared behind you to tap you on the shoulder.

By the time you had turned round, he had dissappeared again, leaving everyone looking around for him. Your eyes dart around the room, a little puzzled. Whatever he was doing, it was successfully intriguing you more and more by the second, drawing yourself to the unsettling boy.

"Look up"

You can all hear the cockiness in his voice, the same annoying smirk as before present on his face, as you look up to the ceiling, to see Michael attatched to it, looking down on everyone, like one of those sticky animals you get from toy machines.

Fourth wonder: divination. Once again, Michael already knew he could do this, another easy one. He had to do this one as it was given to him, unfortunately, and couldn't do anything extra to inadvertently flirt with you more. And so, he makes a small bit of eye contact with you, before he takes the small pebbles and usea them to figure out where the pocket watch is, finding it almoat instantly, and walking over to where it was to pick it up and show the witches.

Fifth wonder: Pyrokenesis. Michael decided the best thing to do, would be to conjure a ring of fire around where you and madison were stood, making piercing eye contact with you through the fire, and getting rid of it as quickly as he had conjured it up.

To you, the danger and mystery of him was considerably attractive, though Cordelia didn't seem too impressed that he was practically targeting you.

Sixth wonder: Vitalum Vitalis. Michael was given a rat to bring back to life, which proved another easy task for him, doing so pretty much instantaneously, and moving on to the seventh wonder.

Seventh wonder: Descensum. Cordelia had ordered for Michael to not only successfully come back from this, but also to retrieve Misty Day, who had been lost to this particular task when she tried the seven wonders.

This, of course, had caused an arguement between her and the warlocks, who were claiming it wasnt fair, and that it's not a part of the rules.

You and Michael, had been making eye contact the whole time, and the tension between the two of you was so thick you could almost see it. He broke eye contact to look at the warlocks, holding up a dissmissive hand to them "Relax, I'll do it"

He did, and you watched intensely as he lay there, seemingly lifeless. You started to feel a little nervous, even though you didn't know him at all really, nor would you ever admit to having the slightest care in the world how this played out, you told yourself you were nervous because you wouldn't wish death upon anyone.

Sure enough, he did return, and Misty did - eventually - return with him. Much to everyones shock.

You stood there and gawked, eyes flicking between Michael and Misty, and he smirked at you.

A short bicker between the witches and warlocks ensued, before the witches had all turned there attention to Misty.

You however, had turned your attention to Michael, your gaze locking with his for what felt like the millionth time today.

"You seem impressed, little witch," he smirks a little at you, and you nod in response.

"I am impressed" you confirm, trying to be cautious, undeniably attracted to him, but still acknowledging that there's something off about him.

"That was the goal, i wanted to impress you" he sounds serious about it, and you tilt your head a little, cocking an eyebrow.

"Why"

"You're a pretty little thing, thats why"

[nep-neptune-0]

Seeking You

Dan Heng x Reader

Summary: Dan Heng never liked to be disturbed in his room, especially when he was sleeping. Even the slightest disturbance outside the door easily woke him up, much to his dismay. But he never felt troubled when you were the one who disturbed him.

Content: fluff, reader is injured, description of injury (not too detailed), male Trailblazer mentioned (sorry I luv him)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I'm not a medical expert or anything like that, sorry if I got it wrong 😭

It was rare for the archivist of the Astral Express to get quality sleep. If he wasn’t out and running into all sorts of trouble with the Trailblazer and March 7th, you could find him in his room, so immersed in his work that he often forgot to sleep. The only semblance of rest he got was from blacking out from fatigue, but he never felt truly energized from it. He was also unfortunate enough to be a light sleeper, so during those rare times he decided to actually sleep in his bed and not pass out on his chair, all passengers made sure to take another route to their destination if their original path crossed his door. Of course, there were instances when they didn’t know he was sleeping, and later during that day his team would notice his fighting became just a tad more jagged, irritated. Though he never got properly upset at any of them.

Tonight was one of those rare nights where all Dan Heng wanted was to sleep, new data be damned. He had been pulled along for some new trouble the Trailblazer found himself in, which obviously triggered a chain reaction of even more trouble, as it always did. The archivist wasn’t sure how long they spent outside the Astral Express before they decided to call it a night. 

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and he intended to be out for at least a couple of hours if possible. Since both March 7th and Caelus had fatigue clinging on to them before they went to their rooms, it was safe to say he would remain undisturbed. But he failed to take another potential factor that would threaten his sleep time into consideration.

That factor was you. 

His door was slammed open, a thud following close after. At first, he thought it was one of the troublemakers. He sat up, ready to tell them he wasn’t in the mood for another adventure. 

All words he had thought of died in his throat. There was a lot of blood pooling under you, who collapsed onto your stomach. The faint light pulsing from the data bank illuminated your knitted eyebrows, trembling lips, and the sheen of sweat over your skin. 

It wasn’t the first time you visited his room in the dead of night. Both of you had gotten into some rhythm of keeping each other company without saying much whenever you visited his room. While he was updating and refining data entries, you would be at his desk, sketching and scribbling notes of the new plants and enemies you had found during missions. 

You were a curious soul with a thirst for knowledge that could rival any high-esteemed scholar or researcher. The first time you were there, you merely stood on the other side of the doorstep, asking him with a quivering voice if there were any data entries that matched something particularly eye-catching you had seen on your latest mission. When he had given you an answer, you had scurried away to your room after thanking him. 

The next time you were there, you had bravely stepped into his room to observe him while he found the correct file. And before long it became a common occurrence for you to swing by after a mission, sketches in hand and questions burning at the tip of your tongue. After a few more times, Dan Heng had told you you were free to look through the information yourself.

At first, you thought he was telling you to stop bothering him, but the newest troublemaker on the express had other thoughts about it. He had pointed a shaking finger at you, sputtering about how the coldest person on the Astral Express had given you permission to touch his precious data without any consequences, something that he never thought was possible. Not that others weren’t allowed to, of course, but Dan Heng usually kept an eye on Caelus whenever he wanted to check something. A laugh had escaped you at that, and you waved his words away, saying that it was natural since Caelus somehow managed to cause trouble wherever he went. You weren’t special. In response you got a smug look from him. Whatever that meant.

One day, you were too caught up in information hunting you didn’t notice how much time had passed since you sat down by his desk. But before you could gather your papers and bolt out of the room with a flurry of apologies, he had stopped you and said you were allowed to stay as long as you wanted, so you sat back down. 

You had wondered if he was actually alright with it. Occasionally, you would glance at him, trying to read his body language or facial expression for any sign of annoyance. At one instance, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t look away, but after a few seconds, you forcefully tore your focus away from him, back to the photographs. You felt the tips of your ears burning as intensely as the sun. 

While you promised yourself to not look again in fear of embarrassing yourself, you couldn’t help but sneak some longing gazes at him. And if you had rested your eyes at him for a bit longer, you would have noticed his eyes being drawn to you more than a few times too. 

That night, you had fallen asleep on his desk, face planted on all the photos you printed out to analyze. His coat had been draped over your frame as a makeshift blanket when you woke up and your phone had an unread message. You’re welcome to continue looking through the database even if I’m not there. I hope you slept well, it said. You remembered feeling flustered, not only from the message but also the faint smell of him lingering in the coat.

Soon enough an additional chair was placed by his desk. The surface was spacious enough to fit two people working on their own thing, only occasional talk filling the otherwise silent air. Sometimes, only you were there when he was out with Caelus and March 7th. The Database practically became your second room. 

There were also times you opened the door to find him sleeping, and despite being a light sleeper that became grumpy the day after, he didn’t seem to be moody at all during the days after he was briefly woken up by you. He would merely peer up at you before shutting his eyes again, hand lazily beckoning you in. You had asked him more than once if your visits while he was resting disturbed his performance the day after, but every time he had told you not to worry about it. So you continued to visit him whenever you were finished with a mission, even if he happened to be sleeping. Though, you became more careful when opening his door. 

Dan Heng would never admit that he slept better when you were in the room. The comforting sound of your pen scratching against paper and the occasional sighs or hums you let out somehow made him feel warm, a stark contrast to the coldness that enveloped him when he slept alone in the room. He really didn’t mind you waking him up more often in the middle of the night if it meant he got to experience that warmth.

Although, you had never arrived when he was sleeping with a gash on your stomach. 

A metallic smell had spread through the air. Your breathing was shallow, body twitching from hiccups. 

“What the hell happened?” Dan Heng breathed, though he didn’t expect a response. Before he could think, he was out the door, heading to the infirmary. He gathered all the supplies he could think of getting. 

Detrimental thoughts swirled in his head like a typhoon. What mission were you sent to? Did they not check the danger levels before dispatching you? Did you get distracted? He should’ve come with you, but you were already gone by the time he met up with the troublemakers in the Parlor Car. You could’ve gone to him before heading out and he would gladly have accompanied you to the mission. What if you were gone by the time he came back?

When he had everything he needed, he hurried back. You still seemed to be in some state of consciousness when he entered his room, not dead. Good. 

Dan Heng started wiping off the sweat that collected on your forehead, then he tentatively rolled you onto your back. The wound wasn’t as deep as he thought it was, it wasn’t life-threatening. You’d survive.

“I’m gonna clean your wound.” He shut the door and gave you a towel to bite on before unscrewing the bottle of antiseptic. “... it’s going to hurt.”

Guttural whines and sobs escaped your throat as soon as the alcohol touched your wound. Biting down hard on the cloth, your hand flailed to find purchase in anything that could ground you. The victim happened to be Dan Heng’s thigh. You were sure it would leave crescent shaped indents at the end of the procedure, but you could not be less bothered to care. 

How you managed to stay somewhat lucid was beyond you. The shock probably helped you through the stitching part. Though Dan Heng’s gentle voice, mumbling something you could not quite make out, tethered you the most. If you had heard, you definitely would have been reeling from the profanities and apologies he was spewing out of concern. 

When it was time for him to bandage you up, the pressure on your abdomen relieved you. Your jaw slackened and the archivist removed the now soggy towel. 

“Sorry about the floor,” you slurred. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“You will not. Now, care to tell me what happened?” 

“Hm.” Tiredness washed over you like a wave. The worst was over, and now you just wanted to sleep. “Found a treasure map, didn’t expect a Reaver to be in the way.”

“Hmph.” His disappointment was evident. “You’re lucky your wound wasn’t that dangerous. Who knows what could’ve happened. Did you go to that place alone? I would have gone with you if you wanted to find the treasure. You could’ve died, [Name]. Why didn’t you just go to Natasha when–”

“I couldn’t think straight,” you muttered, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your voice dropped down to a fragile whisper. “After I got injured– I don’t know– all I could think about was getting back to you first. I wanted to see you.” 

There, you said it. A few seconds went by and he had nothing to say back. Great. When you had gathered enough energy you were heading – crawling if you needed to – straight to your room and–

“You absolute idiot.” Gentle hands lifted you up, trying to avoid agitating your wound. You were half-expecting him to carry you back to your bedroom, but you felt him taking a few steps before you were lowered again, onto something soft. His bed. 

Dan Heng laid himself slowly beside you in fear of making you uncomfortable. He laid on his side, using his arm as his pillow as he gazed at your side profile. His free hand inched forward to brush some hair away from your face.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured. “Next time you get injured, which I rather wouldn’t happen, give me a call and head to Natasha’s immediately. I will be there as quickly as I can.” 

Your eyes hesitantly cracked open. Upon seeing the worry etched onto his face you brought your hand to intertwine with his.

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise.” His lips ghosted over your cheek before he casted his blanket over the both of you with the utmost care. “I’ll clean the blanket tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. Now, get some sleep. After the troublemakers roping me into their schemes and you nearly giving me a heart attack, I really need some rest. We’ll go to Natasha’s Clinic tomorrow.”

“Yeah… good night.” 

“Good night, love.” 

[cindol]

hi!! idk if your reqs r open but can I req the jjk men’s fav kinks?

JJK MEN AND THEIR FAVORITE KINKSᯓ★ !

tw — smut,consent is given before hand in all scenarios, choso’s part is really rushed,

cw ꒱ ! — sub choso, choso is blindfolded, spanking, gojo is a little mean, gojo ties reader’s hands, pussy eating, sukuna is a clan leader, sukuna fucks reader in front of people, nanami’s hands and legs are tied,

synopsis — jujutsu kaisen men and their favorite kinks .

a / n : my inbox is very much open ! I guess I ain’t make it seem like it is but it’s very much open for request and any questions y’all ! but I hope u enjoy annonie

CHOSO KAMO + PRAISE KINK + MOMMY KINK AND SENSATION PLAY !

At first he’ll whine at the confinements on his hands and eyes till he hears your soft voice in his ear.“shh.. relax baby, I’m right here.” while rubbing his thigh.

“mommy’s right here baby.” Hearing that makes the tips of his ears slightly flushed with a pink tint. He can’t even respond, just focused on your hands touching him from his thigh to his neck, placing gentle kisses on his neck down back to his chest.

Only moans and whimpers come from choso, when he’s in this state that’s all he can do instead of words. The only words coming from his mouth are.“mmph! Mommy please!” for the entirety of this. With how your wet lips touched and teased the tip of his dick he couldn’t be blamed for barely making coherent noises and words.

GOJO SATORU + IMPACT PLAY AND FOODPLAY!

Gojo loves impact play with you. Unlike some men who just like to spank their girl for punishment he does it for the fun of it. Seeing your ass turn a different slight shade from his spanking paddle as you were laid out on his lap satisfied him.

Hearing every gasp and moan come from you from each spank on your ass gets his familiar cocky laugh out of him. To give you a fake sense of comfort he rubs your ass in a smooth circle till he catches you off guard with a sharp spank again.“cmon babe you know me, I think you can take some more spanks.”

Food play is also a liking of his also. If he isn’t causing terror on your poor ass he’s treating you like his own dessert. His cherries, whipped cream and chocolate syrup never goes to waste.

On his bed you laid pretty on your back with your hands tied behind your back while gojo stood in front of you all he did was admire you with a whistle.”you look Mm.. how do they say in Spanish? Delicioso!”

His corny joke makes your cringe even in your restraints but he was right. On your body all drizzled on you was chocolate syrup from top to bottom, your tits having whipped cream topped with two blood cherry’s, even your private area having whip cream sprayed on top of it.

“You’re so childish satoru.. you’re lucky I actually love you enough to get this sticky ass sweet stuff on my body.”

Your words aren’t even being put into consideration for him, his eyes just on your body while he licked his lips like he found you delicious.“mhm mhm.. just let me eat you yeah?”

Before you respond he’s parting your legs,“artist gotta eat his art doesn’t he? Or however the hell it goes.” You just roll your eyes in a playful way at his corny joke.

The snarky expression on your face disappears once gojo licks a stripe of whipped creamed off your cunt making you gasp and squeeze at the bed sheets for some leverage for the mean time.

In big licks he licked stripes of the whipped cream off your pussy until he started to eat you out, making small kisses in between almost sloppy kissing your pussy.

Through your soft moans you tried speaking coherently but he made that difficult like he wanted to on purpose.“s-satoru slow down! or I might cum too early!”

satoru lifts his head only once to laugh.“exactly what the plan is.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN + EXHIBITIONISM !

a exhibitionism kink is a dangerous combo but it makes complete sense for a man like sukuna ryomen.

Ever since he saw how two of his clans men had a flustered face at one of the meetings at a visible rip in your kimono showing your thigh while you sat. It made him look more into kinks and he eventually discovered those kinks

He used the excuse of showing dominance to his clans men on what’s his but really he gets off on fucking the beloved woman of the clan knowing no other man could ever have this privilege.

In a spacious room usually used for clan meetings it’s instead used for erotic display of you. On the large stage as he fucked you with you arched on a soft cushion and one of your legs draped over his hip as support for his deep fucking of your wet cunt.

When he turned his head to see his men with flushed faces sitting on their knees and staring at the sight of each part of his wife’s body and breathy moans. a grin stretches on his handsome face at it.

“Watch men as I fuck what’s mine, and don’t dare to take your eyes off.” He treats this as a lesson for them just to show them what’s really his and his alone.

NANAMI KENTO + BONDAGE PLAY !

On rare occasions, nanami gives you the wheel to try and dominate. Of course you always fail even with him in bonds but still being the sweet man he is, it’s never not worth a try.

Nanami isn’t big on bondage, he’s not a big bdsm daddy, his arms and legs are tied to his own bed so he’s on display for you and the third leg he had was there for you too.

In front of him you were standing over him biting your nail with a smile slowly moving towards his body.“Mm.. Better hope you can hold out baby, this time I ain’t folding for you.” purring your words out as you got towards his body.

nanami had a feeling that was never true and just chuckled along.“I can handle whatever you throw at me I promise dear.”

It turns out he’s really right when you can barely take his dick even with him tied down. Hiccups and moans are pouring from your mouth as you ride him. It was always intriguing for nanami to see how the smile you originally had on your face thinking you really were gonna get him this time turned into a moaning one with your pouty lips all wobbly and your eyes rolled back.

For nanami, only his hair was a bit damp with some sweat running down from his forehead. He didn’t have some shit eating grin but a ‘I told you so’ smile while he watched as you struggled to dominate.

“P-please can’t anymore!” you moaned out your plea with your legs soon giving up with slower movements.

Nanami was a slight tease like he always was in this.“oh? Can’t anymore? Even with my hands tied baby.” a false disappointed sigh came from his lips.“need me to take the lead again hm?”

Your movements stopped completely with you nodding.“mhm…” your head laid against his chest for a moment.“But how are you gonna take the lead if you’re all tied up?”

a soft chuckle came from nanami and a head shake.“I think you misunderstand just how much power I can have darling.” using his hips he thrusted up into you getting a yelp and whimper to erupt from your mouth.

[nonbinannytranny]

if you’re considering gender affirming care go through planned parenthood. i shit you not they do not make you go through all the bullshit (hopefully not but may be depending where you are) the only things i had to wait for with them were a wait list (a week) and for the pharmacy to fill (took so long my doc at PP just gave me what they had in stock because they care).

again take care and have extra precaution in areas that are more conservative, but if you travel to your nearest city you should be safer.

i did not need a note from my psychiatrist, instead they sat me with a social worker to ask some questions. it ended up not at all being about if i’m “trans enough” but just how i’m feeling, my experience, allergies and medical history. then they sent me to the doctor who reviewed and assessed health risks and gave me informed consent.

i was then trained by a member of staff to administer my own injections, and was given a choice between every method of testosterone (if i went with the gel, there would be a six hour period after applying each week i can’t touch my cats and they are absolute WHORES who love snuggles and i didn’t want them to transition too, so if that’s important to you, take it into consideration)

it was so much easier than going through a GP, who tended to shrug off everything i said, and wanted to take as much time as possible while i’m suffering with dysphoria. i fully reccommend going through planned parenthood because it is discreet, has options for payment with and without insurance, and will absolutely refer to you with the correct pronouns and name every. time.

and this is not an ad. i’m just sitting here before my third dose feeling thankful.

[grimm-writings]

hihi >_< could i request chilchuck x reader, maybe with reader flirting with him constantly, and then getting flustered when he actually decides to flirt back?

“what a flirt!”

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, suggestive comments, grimm trying so hard not to make the flirting sound cring, mention of chilchuck's wife

…wc! 698

…notes! my stupid doodle of chil with an iron is at 4203 notes at the time of writing my fic blog reputation has been squandered by the shitpost… but i finally got motivation do actually WRITE who cheered!!!! hope you enjoy and apologies for the wait!!

“Gosh, Chil, with those hands of yours you could easily please a partner!”

With his back turned away from you all you can hear from the picklock doing his job is a very deep inhale.  You can’t miss the way the tips of his ears glow red, even in the dim dungeon light.  You know there’s a ‘rule’ to not disturb the half-foot as he works but… goodness it’s just too tempting!  It’s not like there’s any harm in it!

When Chilchuck finishes his task he stands up and glares at you pointedly.  You return it with a bright smile.  “Thank you very much!” you chorus with the party oh, so politely.  The rest have partially given up on convincing you to not say or do anything while Chlichuck is busy.  He still gets the job done, at least…

Travels continue, and you find yourself trying to match a tall half-foot’s pace.  You have to slow down considerably but in your head all you can think about is how adorable Chilchuck might look if he tried to match your pace instead.

Right as you were about to drift off into fantasy, Chilchuck cleared his throat.  “You got somethin’ to say or is your head in the clouds again?”

You giggle.  “No, just thinking about how handsome you are.”  Once more, you relish in how flustered Chilchuck gets, attempting to speed walk ahead of you and start up a chat with Laios instead.

It’s so irritating.  Chilchuck can’t say or do anything without you making some kind of dumb comment!  He’s convinced even in a life or death situation you’d find some way to make him choke on his words and stumble.  You probably would let it happen if it means you can get the jump on him and humiliate him once again!

Before Chilchuck knows it he’s gritting his teeth together, his seething not going unnoticed.  Laios says quietly enough so you aren’t quite able to pick out what’s being said, “why not fight fire with fire?”

It’s an alright suggestion, sure, but that means… having to flirt back with you.  Chilchuck doesn’t know what constitutes flirting really.  His old flame used to say that he only ever honeyed her up when he’s a few drinks in.  Is that really what it will take to get you off his ass?

His question would be answered just a few hours later.  Combat isn’t Chilchuck’s forte, so once again he’s hiding behind some rock somewhere, slightly elevated off the floor.  That way he could avoid any collateral damage.

So he hoped at least.  A swing of a tail from the creature, slamming on the rock floor, proves him otherwise.  The ground collapses beneath Chilchuck and for a second he internally laments that he’s going to acquire another spot of brain damage.

But he doesn’t.  Instead, your arms easily catch underneath his knees and torso, holding him almost like a bride.  It’s you, and you look just so relieved, off guard.

Almost on instinct, Chilchuck lets the words slip.

“Looks like I fell for you.”

It’s so awful.  It’s so pathetic.  At least your pick–up lines were actually creative.  He almost wishes you’d let him break a bone or two.  Marcille’s healing might actually hurt less.

What he doesn’t expect at all is how your face deepens in colour and dusts across your face and cheeks, how your eyes widen and your jaw hangs open.  In your hold, Chilchuck feels your arms shaking.  Chilchuck only had to think for a second before realising that you seriously can’t take what you dish out.

The smug, brash grin that makes its way onto his face could infuriate anyone else, but you just feel your knees buckle.  “C’mon, be an angel and let me down, yeah?  Can’t have you dropping me, though I know my charm is irresistible.”

Funny how just a spot of encouragement can bring out this side of him.  Even as you do as you’re told with a pat on the head and, “why, thank you” being cooed at you, you know this isn’t the end of this.

Chilchuck will make sure you never forget how his words make you feel.