#what kind of brutality are they gonna do to make him agree to that

[queen-mabs-revenge]

.

[my-fall-from-grace]

ok yknow what i’m gonna say it

no matter how “bad” logan has been or how “little” he deserves this 2nd year or how he’s a “pay driver” or whatever else y’all always say

he doesn’t deserve this. any of this

since the very first moment he stepped in a f1 car, he’s been treated as a joke. first it was the wtf is a kilometre jokes then rah rah eagles and now logan in the wall / fork found in kitchen / deuxmoi memes. every weekend, the commentators compare him to his teammate, ignoring the difference in experience and the way they aren’t even driving the same car and that logan was literally running last years specs multiple times. they compare him to oscar, who has driven multiple times f1 cars during test runs and is in a mclaren and the situations are not even remotely similar, ignoring that logan was promoted early, that he didn’t have much opportunity to drive f1 cars even for testing, that he was literally tossed into the deep end without any help and told to survive.

the only time they were even remotely kind to him was when they gave his car to alex. which thanks for the support or whatever but that is so backhanded i don’t even have the words to describe it.

i think we’re all coming to the terms with the reality that this will be his last year in f1. and i don’t think that’s fair for so many reasons. you promote him early, you give him a shit car, you talk bad about him in the media and you don’t promote him (lap of legends hello?) and you openly court other drivers for his seat. you disrespect him and allow others to disrespect him and that’s not right.

formula 1 is the dream for so many people. imagine achieving your dream, even if it’s in a joke of a team, even if it’s too early. but then you become the joke of a joke, you become the american, which is a bad thing. the outsider, the one who doesn’t belong. they make fun of you each weekend. they ask every day when you’ll be replaced.

(and yeah i agree. he does need to improve to have any hope of keeping his seat, f1 is brutal and it’s never been kind, and i’m not being naive and thinking oh it’s his dream and so he deserves it despite it all. i’m not saying that. what i am saying is that is a human being, just like nicholas latifi was, and some of you are too comfortable being cruel.)

speaking of being the american. they make fun of you as though that will punish the fia for putting 3 us races on the calendar. as though that will punish all the american fans who came to f1 through drive to survive. as though that will keep f1 pure and european and whatever the fuck else - they do the same to yuki and zhou and checo and lewis and even if logan’s situation is not even remotely similar to what they’ve experienced, there’s a bias to f1 that cannot be ignored.

but that’s not the point i’m trying to make. not today

this was your dream. this was your dream. and you were never allowed to enjoy it because you became the punchline of a joke the minute you accepted the seat. it was always going to end like this. you knew that.

so yeah. congrats to logan for achieving his dream of driving in f1! it’s unfortunate that he was never allowed to live it.

[fatecantstopme]

She's My Siren

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: The boys are working a case where several men have brutally murdered their wives for no apparent reason. Turns out they were influenced by a siren. The siren sees Dean and appears to him as someone he knows.

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting. Fluffy fluff fluff.

"So what do you think this is? Just a bunch of dudes ganking their wives?"

"I mean, that's what's happening," Sam replied with a shrug. "but I think something is making them do it."

"Well they're not possessed, so what's doing it?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe we should call Bobby and (Y/N)."

Dean groaned. "She's gonna laugh at us for not figuring it out."

Sam smiled. "Probably, but we do need their help."

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed a very familiar number.

"Hey Sam. Having some trouble?" Bobby answered on the second ring.

"We can't figure out what's causing these guys to kill their wives."

"Tell me what you've got so far," (Y/N)'s voice said from the other end of the phone.

Sam put the phone on speaker so Dean could talk. "All we've got is four guys who murdered their wives for basically no reason. No possession, no shapeshifters, nada."

"All the husbands knew exactly what they were doing...and they all regret it," Sam added.

"Anything else?" Bobby asked.

"All of them met their 'perfect' woman not long before killing their wives," Dean answered.

"Define 'perfect'," (Y/N) said.

"They all said 'she was perfect in every way. Exactly what I wanted'," Sam responded.

The boys couldn't see the look Bobby and (Y/N) exchanged, but they did hear her soft chuckle. "And you boys couldn't think of anything that could fit that description?"

Dean gave Sam an 'I told you so' look. "I'm guessing you have something in mind?" he said aloud.

"I do indeed," she answered. "Ever hear of a Siren?"

"A Siren?" Dean asked. "Like Greek Mythology?"

Sam gave Dean a surprised look.

"I can read, you know," Dean mumbled.

"Yes, like Greek Mythology," (Y/N) said with a small smile. "What do you remember from the stories?"

"Uhh...they're super hot women who lured sailors to their deaths?" Dean said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and Bobby chuckled. "Sort of," Bobby replied. "They're actually quite hideous, but they can read minds. They appear to the guy as their ideal perfect woman, put some mojo on them, and make them kill."

"What kind of mojo?" Dean asked.

"Don't really know," Bobby answered. "Siren songs aren't really songs...more like a spell that falls on the person."

"Okay, so how do we find her?" Sam asked.

"Honestly, boys, my money is on her finding you," (Y/N) said.

"Great," Dean mumbled. "So...how do we kill a Siren?"

"We're...uh--gonna have to get back to you on that one," Bobby said.

"Just keep your eyes peeled and don't do anything stupid," (Y/N) said. "We'll get back to you as soon as we find something."

"Thanks guys," Sam said before hanging up.

"Sooo a Siren, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"Who do you think she's gonna look like?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Probably one of those chicks from 'Busty Asian Beauties' you're obsessed with."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Hell yes. Let's go find us a Siren."

**********

(Y/N) and Bobby had been digging through lore books for hours before they managed to find something potentially useful.

"I love a good 3,000 year old text," (Y/N) mumbled in annoyance.

"I'm not even sure what it means," Bobby responded.

"You're supposed to be the expert, Singer," she teased.

He chuckled. "Let me see it again."

He took the book from her and read the passage again...and again...and one more time for effect. "I think I've got it."

Bobby explained his reasoning to her and she agreed. She placed a call to Sam, but he didn't answer. When she called Dean, he picked up almost immediately.

"You got something for me, sweetheart?"

An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her body at the pet name. She was used to him calling her that and other similar names, but it never ceased to have an effect on her. She knew he called all the girls 'sweetheart', so she knew it didn't mean anything...not that she wanted it to...right?

"Bobby and I think we figured out how to kill her."

"Lay it on me."

She cleared her throat. "Uh, you'll need a stake, dipped in the blood of someone actively under her spell...then just stab her."

"Okay, sounds easy enough. We'll just get some blood from one of the poor saps sitting in a jail cell."

"Not quite, Dean," Bobby cut in. "The guy has to be actively under her spell...none of those guys are anymore."

"Damn. Okay, so how do we get it?"

"I have a terrible plan, but it should work," (Y/N) said.

"I'm always down for a terrible plan," Dean responded.

"Find the Siren, one of you gets dosed, the other uses his blood to gank her."

"You want us to get dosed?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Obviously not, but it's a surefire way to get the job done. As long as only one of you gets dosed."

"What happens if we both get it?"

"You'll probably try to kill each other," Bobby answered.

"Great. That's just great," Dean grumbled.

"If you've got a better plan, go for it," (Y/N) said with a shrug.

"We'll make it work. I'll call you when we're finished." Dean hung up without another word.

(Y/N) and Bobby exchanged another glance.

"Carvistly is what, three hours from here?" she asked.

Bobby nodded. "We should probably head that way."

"Agreed."

**********

"Any luck tracking down the Siren?" Dean asked when Sam walked into the motel room.

"Nope. Any word from Bobby or (Y/N)?"

"Got a way to kill her and a...rather terrible plan."

Dean explained (Y/N)'s plan, as well as how to kill the Siren.

"You're right, that's a terrible plan," Sam said when Dean finished.

"Yeah, but it's all we've got."

"Fine...but how do we find her? I mean, I've talked to all the vics and they all described a different chick. We have no idea what she's gonna look like."

"That's true. Guess we'll just have to hang out at the bar and hope she comes to us."

"We're lucky there's only one bar in town," Sam commented.

"Dude, for real."

The two hunters made their way to the bar and got themselves a high top table towards the back of the room, giving them a good vantage point of the rest of the bar.

"Do we even know how she's picking her targets?" Dean asked.

"Well, all of the guys have been married so far, but I'm sure she'll go for just about any guy desperate enough," Sam answered with a pointed look.

"What's the look for? You saying I'm desperate?"

Sam shrugged.

"I'm not desperate."

"Right...when was the last time you got laid?"

Dean scoffed. "All the time, man."

Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean groaned.

"Okay, fine, so it's been a while. That doesn't make me desperate."

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean grumbled as he took a swig of his beer. He was not desperate. Absolutely not. Dean Winchester was never desperate. Maybe he just hadn't been horny lately...a man doesn't need to get laid every day. It had absolutely nothing to do with a certain hunter he couldn't get off his mind. Definitely not.

Sam was scanning the bar, looking for anyone who seemed out of place...but no one was catching his eye. He felt a little bad for teasing his brother, but he just wanted Dean to admit the truth.

"I'm gonna hit the head," Dean mumbled.

He watched Dean walk to the bathroom, several pairs of eyes on him the entire time. Most were women, but none of them stood out as concerning. Just the typical hot bimbos Dean always seemed to take home.

Sam's mind began to wander a bit while he waited for his brother to return. He had a lot on his mind and working this job was, unfortunately, not his priority.

Dean made his way back from the bathroom, jarring Sam out of his trance. "I'm gonna get another beer. Want anything?"

"No thanks, I'm good," Sam replied.

Dean walked off towards the bar and Sam's eyes followed him out of habit. Dean was halfway to the bar when a woman approached him. Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw her. Had Dean not told him (Y/N) had called from Bobby's two hours ago, he would have been certain she was here in the bar.

He watched the woman walk up to Dean and touch his arm, and he was out of his seat and heading their direction in an instant.

"Hey there, handsome," a woman said from beside him, her hand touching his arm.

When Dean turned to face her, shock lit up his handsome face. He knew it wasn't her, but the resemblance was so uncanny, he almost believed it for a moment.

Realizing the woman before him was the Siren, he quickly regained his cool. "Well hello to you too," he said with a smirk.

"How 'bout you buy me a drink?" she said lightly.

Her voice is wrong, he thought to himself. "I'd love to," he said aloud.

He followed her towards the bar, turning to see Sammy following close behind. The expression on Sam's face told him that his little brother knew what was happening.

Dean held back a little, allowing Sam to catch up to him.

"Dude, she--" Sam began.

Dean glared at him. “Not of word of this to (Y/N), Sammy. Not a word.”

Feeling a little more comfortable knowing his backup was there, Dean continued to follow the Siren. When they reached the bar, he ordered a beer and she ordered some fruity cocktail.

"So what's your name, beautiful?" Dean asked.

"Kimberly."

"Hi, Kimberly. I'm Dean." I guess she doesn't know everything...

"It's nice to meet you, Dean."

The bartender handed them their drinks and Dean followed her to a solitary booth in the far corner of the bar. Dean noticed Sam taking a seat not too far away.

The Siren leaned in close and began chatting with Dean, laying on the flirtation very thick. Despite the fact she was literally wearing the face of the one woman Dean really loved, he found it very hard to reciprocate.

Thankfully, the Siren didn't seem to notice. In all honesty, Dean's bad flirting was better than most of the population's good flirting.

A half hour and another round of drinks later, Dean found himself mere inches from the Siren. Her scent was intoxicating, and he wondered for a moment if that was the 'mojo'...except he didn't feel any different. He knew it had to be something else.

"Your lips look so soft," the Siren muttered as she reached up a hand to touch them.

"They are," Dean murmured as he leaned in closer. "Wanna find out?"

She smiled and for a moment--just a moment--Dean forgot that it wasn't her. His eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. He was instantly intoxicated by her...he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed at him, reminding him she was a Siren, but the feeling of desire--of mindless devotion--quickly overcame the voice.

After what felt like an eternity, she broke the kiss. Dean was breathless, but he knew he would have happily suffocated to death kissing her.

"Why don't you take me back to your place?" she asked, voice suddenly sultrier than he remembered it being before.

He wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed, so he agreed without hesitation. Dean took her by the hand and guided her outside, helping her into the Impala, and taking off without a second thought.

Sam came running out of the bar, just in time to see Dean speeding away with the Siren in his passenger seat. "Shit..."

When Dean arrived back at the motel, he escorted "Kimberly" into his room. "Sorry for the mess," he said quickly as he knocked a few books off his bed.

"Don't worry," she said as she came up to him and ran her hands up his chest. "I don't mind a little mess."

Dean looked down at her and let out a soft groan. "God, you are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled knowingly. She had been more than a little surprised when she read his mind at the bar...it was rare to meet a man who's ideal girl wasn't a tall, thin, bombshell, especially a man who looked like him. But she knew what he wanted and she was more than happy to give it to him...until she got what she wanted.

Dean kissed her passionately and pulled her down onto the bed with him. He began to slowly peel off her clothes and she tugged at his shirt. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head.

Suddenly, someone knocked on their door.

Dean groaned. "Ignore it."

She was happy to do so and continued to kiss him.

"Dean!" Sam yelled from the other side of the door.

Dean pulled away for a moment. "Kinda busy here Sammy," he called.

"Open the damn door, Dean! She's not who you think!"

"Don't listen to him," the Siren said. "He wants me all to himself."

Dean's eyes darkened. "But you're mine."

"That's right, sweetie. All yours," she purred. "And I can be yours forever if you just get rid of him."

"Get rid of him?"

"You have to kill him, Dean, or he'll take me away from you."

"That's never gonna happen, baby." Dean stood up and crossed the room.

The moment he opened the door, Sam punched him in the face, sending him spiraling back into the room. The Siren watched with a smile as the two men fought each other.

"Dean, you gotta snap out of it!" Sam yelled.

"You can't have her. I won't let you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kimberly's mine, Sammy," Dean insisted as he swung at his brother.

Sam ducked out of the way and slipped behind him. Dean swung his foot around and managed to knock Sam to the floor.

The Siren stood off to the side, egging Dean on. "Kill him for me, Dean. We can be together if you just kill him."

Dean was on top of Sam, punching him repeatedly. Sam reached into his jacket and managed to grab ahold of the stake. He jabbed Dean in the arm and kneed him in the groin with a mumbled apology.

Dean groaned loudly and Sam pushed him off and onto the floor. When he stood up, the Siren noticed the stake in his hand, but it was too late. Sam was blocking her exit. She turned to run towards the window, but Sam was faster. He stabbed the stake into her back and she fell to the ground with a scream and a thud.

Sam turned back to his brother, who was now kneeling on the floor. "You okay, Dean?"

Dean looked up at him with a glare. "Did you really have to go for the goods, man?"

Sam chuckled lightly. "Sorry about that, but you were being a dick."

"I was hopped up on Siren juice, dude!"

"Well lookie here, guess they don't need our help after all," Bobby said from the open doorway.

(Y/N) came up beside him with a smirk. "Nice work you two. We thought you might need some backup, but looks like we were wrong."

"We can help with the body dump at least," Bobby said.

Bobby and (Y/N) stepped into the room and Dean yelled "no!" in an oddly high pitched voice. (Y/N) did her best not to look in Dean's direction, despite his outburst...his shirtless form made her stomach do somersaults.

"Jesus, Sam, how hard did you hit him?" Bobby asked.

Dean scrambled to get to his feet, but he wasn't fast enough to stop (Y/N) from seeing the Siren. Sam had reached for her, but he saw the look on her face and knew it was too late.

"I don't think that's his problem..." (Y/N) said softly, pointing to the body of the Siren.

Bobby came up beside her and cursed under his breath. He and Sam made eye contact and slowly started to back out of the room.

"Does anyone want to tell me why the Siren looks like my twin?" (Y/N) asked, stopping everyone in their tracks. She turned to fix all three men with a hard stare.

"We're just gonna...umm--go, uh anywhere else," Bobby said. He grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him from the room, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) fixed her intense gaze on Dean. "Well?"

"I--um, well--you see, I...um." He couldn't quite meet her eyes.

(Y/N)'s expression softened. She could see his discomfort matched her own. "Sit," she said gently, gesturing to the bed nearest the door. "And maybe put on a shirt."

Dean sat down, tugging his shirt back over his head. She sat across from him, finally able to look at him without feeling incredibly awkward.

"It just sorta...happened," Dean mumbled.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah--you musta been on my mind when she read it, ya know? So she made herself look like you." He didn't want to tell her the truth...all this time he'd spent pretending he didn't feel this way was going to be thrown out the window in an instant.

"That's not how it works, Dean," she said softly. "Sirens can see your innermost desire...the woman of your dreams."

Dean let out a little groan and bit his lip. He exhaled heavily and finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Guess there's no point in lying then."

She shook her head. "Not really."

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest. It was so loud that he was surprised (Y/N) couldn't hear it. She looked beautiful, sitting there with a confused and concerned expression on her face. For the first time in the years he'd known her, he was struggling to push his feelings back down. Now that the box had been opened, he couldn't put them back.

"She didn't get your voice right," he said softly.

"What?"

"Your voice...it wasn't right. It was missing the softness...the--" he struggled to find the right word, "--the melody."

"You think my voice is melodious?" she asked in surprise.

"I think it's the most beautiful sound in the world."

She laughed, thinking he had to be joking. When his expression didn't change, her laughter came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, you're serious..."

"I changed my mind. Your voice is the second most beautiful sound in the world."

She swallowed thickly. "What's the first?"

Dean smirked as he crossed the short space between them and sat on the bed directly beside her. "Your laugh," he whispered.

Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. His expression was something she'd never seen on his face before, but it sure looked a hell of a lot like lust.

"Dean..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm clumsily telling you how I feel about you," he answered honestly.

"That you like my laugh and my voice?"

He sighed. "I like them because they're yours."

She wanted to believe it, but she couldn't wrap her brain around the idea that Dean Winchester liked her. It wasn't even remotely possible, so he clearly had to still be under the Siren's spell. There had to be some alternate explanation for why the Siren took on her appearance.

"I guess the Siren's mojo really screwed with your head."

Dean shook his head. "It didn't mess with my head, (Y/N/N). It just made me face something I've felt for a long time."

Her breathing sped up as she stared into his eyes. "And what is it you feel?"

"Affection," he answered. "Adoration...devotion, desire, longing." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her cheek. "Love," he finished softly.

She inhaled sharply, disbelief evident on her face. "You love me?"

"With everything I have."

"Why?"

Surprise lit up his face and he dropped his hand. "Why? What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, why would you love me of all people?"

"I don't really know how to answer that...I just--I just do."

She shook her head and stood up. She began to pace and the words tumbled from her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. "There is absolutely no way that you, Dean Winchester, love me. I mean, look at you! You're literally perfection in human form. Every woman on planet earth with a set of working eyeballs wants you. You could have your pick of any fish in the sea! I've seen the women you go home with, Dean, and they sure as hell don't look like me. I'm not what any man would use to define the 'ideal woman'...I'm short, I'm certainly not thin--I've got hips and thighs and a big ass, not to mention large boobs and a soft stomach. There is nothing special about me. Someone like you isn't meant to be with someone like me."

Dean stood up and grabbed her, pulling her to a stop directly in front of him. "Are you done now?"

She was slightly breathless as she nodded.

"Okay, good. Now listen--I'm not perfect. Not even close. I'm aware that I'm attractive, but inside? Shit, (Y/N), I'm damaged goods. Beyond damaged. Why do you think I only bring home chicks that look like that? Baby, they're easy to entice home and there's zero strings attached. I've kept my feelings buried for so long, it just became easier to pretend they didn't exist. It kept you safe...I didn't want to expose you to the darkness that lives inside me. You deserve so much better than me, (Y/N)."

She stood there in stunned silence--unable to grasp a single word to say.

"And another thing--you're my ideal woman. I don't give a damn what society's beauty standards are. For the record, I love your thick thighs and that gorgeous ass of yours. I love your boobs, and your hips, and your stomach--baby, I love all of you. You're perfect. So don't you dare tell me you're not meant to be with someone like me...because in reality, I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"Dean," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to stamp out the terror that she was about to rip his heart out. He opened his eyes again and saw the whirlwind of emotions in her eyes. "Yes?" he asked tentatively.

"Please kiss me," she murmured.

He didn't need to be told twice. His lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss. He moaned softly, licking against her lips, silently begging to be let in.

She parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry. She sighed as he tightened his grip on her, pulling her flush against his chest.

Dean deepened the kiss, large hands roaming her soft body until they landed on her round ass. He gave it a light squeeze and she responded with a little moan.

Dean broke the kiss to begin trailing down her jaw to her neck. His lips felt like heaven against her skin and she clung to him, head tossed back in pleasure.

He nipped at her pulse point and she moaned softly, eliciting a growl from deep in his chest. He pulled away from her, slightly breathless, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I take it back," he whispered.

"What?"

"I've got a new favorite sound."

She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

He grinned devilishly. "Those pretty little moans you make? Those are my new favorite."

Her eyes widened slightly, but a small smile played at her lips. "I bet if you try hard enough, you can hear a few more."

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Uhhh guys?" Sam suddenly said from the doorway.

They both turned their heads to face him, embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

"Little busy here, Sammy," Dean grumbled.

"I can see that, but umm...dead monster body," he said as he pointed at the Siren's body.

"Gross," Dean mumbled. "I forgot about that."

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. "We should probably take care of that."

He nodded. "We'll pick up where we left off later." He shot her a wink and gave her another kiss before peeling himself off of her.

**********

An hour later, the body had been properly disposed of and everyone was ready to head home.

"You boys wanna come back to my place and rest for a few days?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked over at (Y/N) before turning his attention back to the older man. "Yeah, Bobby, I think we could use the rest." He glanced back over at (Y/N) just in time to see the soft smile on her lips.

Bobby nodded. "Sam, why don't you ride with me?"

Sam looked confused for a moment, but realization quickly lit up his face. "Oh, yeah--right. Sure. I'll uh, see you guys later, then."

"Mhm," Dean hummed, clearly not really listening anymore.

Bobby and Sam got into Bobby's car and drove off, leaving Dean and (Y/N) alone.

"So, uh...whatcha say we stop at the nearest motel on the way?" Dean asked with a sheepish grin.

She smiled. "I think I could be persuaded."

He grinned fully, reaching out to grab ahold of her and pull her into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to take her right then and there, but he wanted better for her. Her kiss lit a fire inside of him that burned more brightly than he had ever felt before. He wanted her with a kind of desperation he had never known was possible.

"Why don't we skip the motel," she whispered against his lips.

"Huh?"

She glanced at the Impala. "The backseat is pretty spacious."

He chuckled. "It's plenty big enough, but I don't want our first time together to be in the back of a car. I wanna make love to you properly--on a bed."

She smiled, practically melting against him. "Then you better drive fast, because I don't know how long I can wait."

His eyes widened. "Yes ma'am."

She laughed lightly as he opened up the car door for her and she slid into the passenger seat. Dean ran to the other side of the car and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and he sped off toward the highway.

**********

"Oh thank God," Dean mumbled about 20 minutes into the drive. "There's a motel 10 miles up."

(Y/N) laughed warmly. "Step on it, handsome."

He grinned and laid his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. Less than 5 minutes later, Dean was pulling into the motel parking lot.

"I'll go get us a room. Should be quick," he said as he hopped out of the car.

A few minutes later, Dean returned with a room key in hand. He opened the car door and held out his hand for her to take.

"Come on, gorgeous. We've got important things to do," he said with a smile.

"Lead the way."

Dean had to consciously force himself to walk at a reasonable pace to the room. (Y/N)'s legs were a lot shorter than his and if he'd walked as fast as he wanted to, he would've been dragging her along.

As soon as they were in the room, Dean shut and locked the door.

(Y/N) glanced around. "Looks clean enou--"

Dean silenced the rest of her sentence with a well-timed heated kiss. He'd whipped her around and pressed her up against the door, hands gripping her hips as he kissed her passionately.

She gripped the edges of his shirt and tugged upwards, silently asking him to remove it. He pulled back, yanking the shirt off his head, before attaching his lips back to hers.

He slid his hands under her shirt and her body tensed up on instinct. She'd always hated people touching her stomach, but she did her best to push away her discomfort.

Despite her best efforts, Dean could feel her unease. "Baby, look at me," he whispered.

Her eyes met his and she visibly relaxed.

"I've got you, okay? I love you, I love your body, and I wanna touch and see every inch of it...but if you're not ready, I can wait."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his sweet words. Normally, she would have taken him up on his offer, but not now. She wanted this...wanted him...and that meant giving in completely.

She pushed him back ever so slightly, giving her enough space to unbutton her shirt and slip it off. It fell to the ground, leaving her upper half in just a bra.

She was self-conscious for no more than a moment. Dean's hungry eyes traced their way down her torso and back up, desire evident in his gaze.

He pressed his body up against hers again, a soft moan escaping his lips. "So fucking perfect," he whispered.

He slid his hands up her back and deftly unhooked her bra. She let him pull it off and toss it somewhere behind him. He groaned as he palmed each of her breasts in his large hands. He began to kneed them gently, pinching her nipples as she gasped.

Suddenly, his hands left her breasts and traveled to her thighs. "Jump," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

He gripped her thighs tightly. "Jump, baby. I've got you."

She looked at him like he was crazy, but she trusted him completely. She jumped up and Dean caught her with ease, tugging her legs around his waist. She locked her heels behind him and he pressed her back against the door.

Her breasts were now at the perfect height for his mouth to feast on...and feast on them he did. He sucked and nipped, his light stubble scratching against her skin deliciously.

His arms wrapped around her back and he lifted his head to look at her. "Keep those legs tight, okay?"

As soon as she nodded, he pulled away from the door and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, but instead of crawling on top of her, he stood at the end of the bed.

She sat up slightly. "Dean?"

He licked his lips and looked back up at her face. "Hmm?"

She crooked her finger, gesturing him to come to her.

Instead of climbing onto the bed, he leaned down and placed a kiss to her belly, just above her pants. "These should go," he murmured.

He made quick work of removing her jeans, his calloused hands gliding back up her legs to the hem of her underwear.

"I don't think you need these either." He tugged them off and threw them onto the ground.

She laid before him, completely bare, and she didn't feel self-conscious at all. She couldn't--not with the way he was looking at her.

His breathing was slightly labored as he stared at her. He palmed his painfully hard cock through his jeans, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

She sat up and licked her lips. "I can help you with that."

His eyes widened, pupils dilated to the point of obscuring his green irises. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and slid off the end of the bed, dropping to her knees before him. She looked up at him and slowly began to undo his belt.

"Holy fuck..." he murmured. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she undid the button on his jeans and slowly began to pull them down.

He helped her take them off completely before she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs. "These are in my way," she said huskily.

He yanked his underwear off with such speed, if she'd blinked she would have missed it. What she couldn't miss, however, was his surprisingly large member mere inches from her face.

Dean noticed her wide eyes and he grinned. "Like what you see, baby?"

Her lust-filled eyes flicked up to his. "I like every inch of you."

He wasn't sure if she was talking about his body or his cock, but he didn't have time to think about it. She gripped him tightly and slid her mouth onto his cock, eliciting a loud moan from him.

She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she began to move her head and her hands in an expert rhythm. He could barely breathe as he stared down at her...pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock and her big (y/e/c) eyes looking up at him.

He slid his fingers into her hair, pulling it back from her face so he could see it better. The blunt tips of his nails raked against her scalp as he tightened his grip, a moan of ecstasy escaping his lips.

"Fuck, baby...feels so good."

She moaned around his cock, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through him. His hips jilted forward slightly, causing her to gag a little. He instantly pulled back, not wanting to hurt her.

In response, she grabbed onto his upper thighs with both hands and tugged his hips forward, relaxing her throat as she did to take him even farther into her.

Her watery eyes met his in a silent plea. Dean was pretty sure he knew what she wanted, so he tentatively pulled back and thrust his hips forward gently.

Her eyes seemed to light up and she moaned loudly, giving him the confirmation he needed. He gripped her head with both of his hands and he began to fuck her pretty face.

(Y/N) tightened her grip on his thighs and desperately tried to keep her eyes open and on his face. She wanted to see him come undone more than anything. At this moment, she was just along for the ride.

Dean's grip on her hair tightened to an almost painful level, but she didn't complain. The moans and whispered pleas coming from his mouth were reward enough.

"Baby, I'm so close..." he groaned.

She released a deep moan and his eyes flicked down to meet hers. The moment his gaze found hers, he came with a moan of her name. (Y/N) didn't let go of his cock until she'd swallowed every last drop of his spend before finally releasing him.

He nearly collapsed on the bed, but through the fog in his brain, he remembered (Y/N) would have needs of her own.

"Come here, baby," he said softly as he reached for her. "Lie on the bed."

She stood up with his help and laid down on the bed, feet hanging over the edge. When Dean didn't move to join her, she began to shift uncomfortably.

"You're too far away," he insisted.

She immediately started to move closer to him, but he shook his head, grabbed her hips, and tugged her to the edge of the bed where he wanted her.

She gasped in surprise. "Dean!"

He grinned as he dropped to his knees. "What? I wanna taste you."

She looked a little shy. "You don't have to."

He looked at her in confusion. "I know I don't have to...I want to."

"Oh..."

"Baby, if you taste half as delicious as you look, then I'm going to be the happiest man in the world."

"Oh," she whispered in a slightly more surprised tone.

Dean grabbed her legs and threw one over each shoulder before diving into her pussy like a starving man at a feast.

"Oh!" What started out as a pleasantly surprised sound quickly turned to moans of enjoyment.

She'd known he would be good...after all, he had a lot of practice, but she hadn't expected to feel like this. Dean's mouth had been on her pussy for less than 30 seconds and she was already a gasping mess.

Her hand fisted his hair, tugging on it slightly, legs desperately searching for something to hold onto.

Dean was an incredibly fast learner. He paid attention to what made her moan, what made her grip his hair harder, what made her squirm...he was determined to be the absolute best she'd ever had.

"Dean," she gasped. "You--it--shit...feels so good."

He grinned against her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking intently. His tongue began to swirl around her clit, spelling out her name in fast-moving cursive.

"Oh god!"

Her legs began to tighten around his head and he had a vague thought about wanting to be smothered by her thighs...but the thought was pushed aside when she cried out, cumming all over his mouth and chin.

He hungrily lapped up as much as he could before she yanked on his hair and desperately tried to squirm away. "Sensitive, Dean!"

He finally allowed her to pull his head up and he stared at her pretty face as he licked his lips. "Infinitely better than I'd imagined," he murmured.

"Huh?" she asked, clearly still dazed from her orgasm.

He smiled as he crawled on top of her, placing a kiss to her lips. "You taste like heaven," he whispered.

She blushed, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for another kiss.

He'd found himself growing hard again while he was eating her out, and as he deepened the kiss, his cock brushed against her pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

He smiled against her lips. "(Y/N)?"

"Hmm?"

"If I told you I wanted to do something really really badly, would you be willing to do it for me?"

She cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "That would depend on what it is."

"Fair enough."

Suddenly, he flipped onto his back, taking her with him. She gasped as she found herself looking down at him from above. "You could have just asked," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh that?" He smirked darkly. "That's not what I want..."

Her breathing began to pick up pace again. "Then what do you want?"

He grinned wolfishly. "I wanna taste that sweet pussy again."

Her eyes widened. No one had ever eaten her out twice during sex. "But you just did..."

He nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers gently rubbing circles into her thighs. "Please baby? I would do anything."

She bit her lip. She couldn't deny, the idea of him wanting to eat her out again was an incredible turn-on...but she was still sensitive from a few minutes prior.

"Please," he begged again, green eyes widening.

She sighed, realizing there was no way she could say no to him when he was looking at her like that. "Alright."

He grinned. "That's my good girl. Now come up here."

Her pussy clenched around nothing at the praise, but then confusion settled on her face. "Come up...where?"

"Here," he said, patting his mouth. "I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What? No! Absolutely not. No way." She tried to scramble off of him, but his strong arms held her in place.

"Why not?" he pouted.

"Umm because I could seriously hurt you! Or I don't know, smother you to death!"

He laughed lightly. "I would die a very happy man."

"I'm serious, Dean! I'm not light!"

The smile disappeared from his face as he took in the shock and disbelief on hers. He sat up and ran his hand along her cheek. "Hey, baby, look at me."

Her eyes slowly shifted to meet his.

"(Y/N), I want this. Badly. Now, I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do, but I don't want you to say no out of some misguided desire to protect me. I'm more than capable of picking you up and tossing you around, so I promise you're not going to smother me or hurt me. I wanna feel those sexy thighs of yours wrapped around my head as I devour that sweet pussy."

His eyes darkened as he spoke and it lit something inside of her. She was scared of hurting him, but she could see how much he wanted this. "I'll--I'll try," she whispered.

He smiled. "That's my girl." He laid back down on the bed. "Now come here and have a seat, gorgeous."

She blushed, but did as he told her--mostly.

"Babe, I said sit."

"I am sitting," she protested.

"No, you're not." He grabbed her hips and tugged her down so she was directly against his lips. "Fuck yes," he mumbled into her before getting to work.

(Y/N) gasped loudly. This new position changed the angle of his tongue inside of her and his nose bumped against her clit every time he moved.

Within seconds, she was a moaning mess above him, hands grasping onto the headboard for stability. Her hips started to move of their own volition and Dean gripped her hips to help facilitate the movement.

She didn't know she could feel this incredible...her body was shaking with a pleasure she'd never felt before--every nerve ending alive with need.

"Dean, I can't--I need--please."

He tightened his hold on her hips and focused his tongue on her clit as she rode his face. Seconds later, she yelled his name as she orgasmed, drenching his face in her slick.

God help him, but he didn't want to stop. He'd never been happier. The sounds she made, her taste, the need to pleasure her...all of it made him want to never stop.

Unfortunately for him, (Y/N) managed to scramble away with cries of sensitivity. She collapsed on the bed beside him, trying to catch her breath. Her legs shook with the aftershocks of her orgasm as she came down from her high.

Dean wiped his mouth and turned to look at her, a wide grin gracing his handsome face. "Thoughts?"

"You can...do that...again...anytime you want," she said between breaths.

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, don't tempt me." He rolled on top of her and gave her a soft kiss to her lips. He slowly kissed along her jaw and down to her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

She had no idea how he knew that would drive her crazy, but she was glad he did. Despite her exhaustion, she wanted him...wanted to feel him so badly she could hardly breathe. "Dean..." she whispered.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I want you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Where?"

She fidgeted a little before murmuring, "Inside me."

He pressed his index finger against her lips. "Here?"

She shook her head.

"Then where, baby?"

She took his hand and guided it between her legs, placing it against her dripping pussy. "Here."

His eyes seem to sparkle as he looked down at her. He wanted to hear her demand what she wanted, but this was close enough for now.

"Anything for you, baby."

He sat up and gripped his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining himself up with her core. His eyes flicked up to hers and he asked softly, "You ready?"

She nodded.

"Words, baby."

"I'm ready, Dean, please."

He pushed into her slowly, eliciting a sharp moan from her lips. The stretch was deliciously painful, but she was desperate for him to keep going. She whined softly when he stopped to let her adjust, so he continued to push until he was fully seated inside of her.

He dropped his head down to her forehead, breathing heavily. He'd never been gripped this tightly in his life and it felt amazing.

(Y/N) had similar thoughts. He fit her perfectly...a feeling she'd never before experienced. Like the last two pieces of a puzzle locking into place.

Dean shifted his hips, starting a slow pace to keep from hurting her. Much to his surprise, she couldn't care less about the pain, she wanted more.

"Dean, faster," she whimpered.

He couldn't tell her no even if he'd wanted to, and he certainly didn't want to. He began to thrust into her with more force and speed, earning moans of pleasure from her lips.

"You feel so good, baby. Never felt this good before," he whispered softly.

The room filled with the sounds of their shared moans, the salacious slapping of skin, and the whispered words meant only for each other.

Dean was about as far from a virgin as a person could be, and (Y/N) wasn't new to this either, but he had never ever had a sexual experience even remotely close to what he was feeling with her.

Most of his experience came from one-night-stands, which meant there hadn't been feelings of any kind involved, but with (Y/N)? He could hardly breathe, it felt so right. Three words crept into his mind, but he pushed them away quickly. He didn't want to ruin this.

He focused back on the beautiful woman beneath him and his heart nearly exploded at the sight. He'd never seen anything so incredible, so beautiful, so perfect. He was dying to watch her come apart for him--he just knew it would be a sight to behold.

"Do you think you can give me another one, baby?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't know, Dean...I've never cum more than once before and I've already done it twice."

He smiled. He liked knowing he'd done something no one else ever had. "Come on, pretty girl. I know you can do it for me," he murmured.

Before she could say another word, he shifted her hips to give him better access. The new angle left her speechless as his cock slammed into that delicious soft spot deep inside of her--a spot she hadn't been certain existed until this moment.

She dug her nails into his back, clinging to him for dear life. It felt so good she could hardly think. Her brain was filled with nothing but the pleasure she was feeling.

Dean knew she was getting close and he was desperately holding back his own impending orgasm. He would be damned if he came before her. "I need you to cum for me baby. Can you do that?"

She nodded and held onto him even tighter.

Dean's motions never slowed, his aim never faltered. He was determined to push her over the edge. He wanted it more than anything.

Her legs began to shake and strangled cries left her throat as she neared orgasm. With one final thrust, (Y/N) shattered--a broken scream of his name leaving her lips.

Dean continued to thrust, chasing his own high as he helped her ride out hers. "Where do you want it?" he whispered.

In her haze, it took her a moment to figure out what he was asking her. "Inside of me," she begged. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Fuck," he groaned as he moved impossibly faster. Moments later, he came harder than he could ever remember, emptying inside of her for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, his hips slowed to a stop and he nearly collapsed on top of her, completely spent and out of breath.

After a few moments, Dean pulled out and rolled over to collapse beside her on the bed. "That was...fucking amazing."

She laughed lightly. "I would have to agree."

He turned to look at her. "Best sex of my life."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, riiiiight..." She chalked up his statement to a post-nut haze.

"I'm serious, babe. There's something different about having sex with someone you love."

(Y/N)'s entire body froze, but her mind beginning to race. He'd said earlier that he'd loved her, but she honestly hadn't believed it. Hearing him say it now reminded her that she hadn't responded to him the first time.

Dean noticed the tension immediately and suddenly realized what he'd said. He started to panic...Shit, shit shit. "(Y/N/N), I--"

She waved him off. "Dean, you don't have to explain--" she started.

He pulled away from her so he could see her face better. "That wasn't some post-orgasm utterance. I meant it--I mean it."

She laid there, desperately trying to wrap her brain around what he was saying. "What?" she said again, softer this time.

He rolled onto his side so he could see her better. He reached out and gently caressed her face, eyes watching her reaction with trepidation. "I'm in love with you, (Y/N). I've known it for a while, but it didn't seem like something you would want to hear. I said it earlier in that motel room, but we didn't really have a chance to talk about it--and I don't want you to think for even one second that I didn't mean it. I love you with everything I have, baby. I would burn this whole world to the ground for you."

Hearing Dean Winchester say those words was enough to shock her into silence, but hearing them directed at her? It was a feeling she couldn't even begin to describe. "I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Pain flashed across his face, but he hid it before she could really notice. "You don't have to say anything."

"Of course I do," she insisted. "I never expected to hear you say anything like that to anyone, let alone me. I'm struggling to find the words to say...I guess I'm just unprepared. I never thought Dean Winchester would be the one making me speechless with his beautiful words, but here we are. All I can think to say is, I love you too."

A warm smile graced his features. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect response." He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you," he said again.

She smiled back. "I love you too."

Dean pulled her against his chest and held on tightly. He didn't want to let her go for fear of losing her. He knew their lives were risky--he knew either one of them could die at any time--and he didn't want to waste a single moment. He'd already wasted so much time pretending not to love her. He would never make that mistake again.

Apparently (Y/N) was having similar thoughts because she whispered, "I never thought I'd be thankful for a Siren."

Dean chuckled lightly and kissed the top of her head. "Me neither, baby. Me neither."

[sukirichi]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏

+ umemiya hajime & togame jo (was gonna include suo but i got nervous characterizing him, sobs.) + angst, minimal fluff. mentions of timeskip. (pssp!! i’m new to writing windbreaker but if you guys want to request ficlets/headcanons like these, feel free!) + 3.4k wc

divider from @/saradika-graphics

— UMEMIYA HAJIME.

The night’s cool air bit at your skin as you stepped out of the restaurant. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fight back the urge to look back at your date. The blind date your friends had set up was, to your surprise, not entirely disastrous. He was a charming architect, and a friend of a friend. Had a nice smile and the prettiest set of teeth you’d seen, with the kind of humor that elicited polite, yet casual laughter from you. It was… a good date.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the lingering emptiness in your heart – the void no one had been able to fill since he’d left.

You walked slowly, your thoughts drifting back to the past like it always did. You and Hajime had started dating when you were teenagers, a time when holding hands and stealing cheek kisses were the biggest deal between couples who loved a little too much, and knew a little too less.

Your relationship with him had been a well-guarded secret. Your parents were strict, said you were “too young to know anything about love.” Hajime was also the leader of a gang, albeit with noble intentions. Not that your parents would understand – they hear the word ‘gangster’ and immediately thought (or would’ve, if they’d met him) as a troublemaker. They wouldn’t take the time to know that his gang protected people from the real threats, the dangerous gangsters who roamed around the neighborhood. Your father would never understand it, and he would never have accepted Hajime.

Your love had been intense, the kind that only young hearts could know and experience only once in your lives. You’d whispered promises under the stars of marrying each other someday, stole kisses in hidden corners, and dreamt of a future together. A future that consisted of grandkids running out a minivan, and your hair would match Hajime’s iciness with old age.

Until that day where he just… left.

Hajime had broken up with you without warning, without explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. It felt like your heart had been brutally ripped out from your chest. You remember crying for days, months even, waiting for him to come back – to tell you it was a mistake. But he never did. He disappeared, leaving behind only memories and an aching void that hadn’t been filled for the next years.

So lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance until you nearly walked into him. You looked up, your breath catching in your throat.

White hair, icy blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin turning red from the cold.

Hajime.

He’d changed since you last saw him. His hair was shorter, short enough that he couldn’t gel it and have you brush his bangs back for him like you always used to. His face was more mature, too, but his eyes – the same warm, kind eyes you’d spent hours staring into – were unmistakable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you blurring into an insignificant image.

“Hajime,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He says your name softly, like your name itself was the world and he had to hold it with steady, careful hands. And he used to, once. Before he let it go. He scans your face as you gaze back at him, unmoving, as if trying to make sure if you were real. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you agree with a short nod, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

When Hajime smiled, it held no happiness in it. “I was just passing by. How have you been?”

“Good,” you lie, forcing a smile as you switch your weight from foot to foot. “I just finished a date, actually,” you jerk a thumb back at the restaurant, and Hajime’s gaze follows it.

“I see,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… I hope it went well.”

“It did,” you replied, though the words felt hollow despite your honesty. That was the worst part, it seemed. The date did go well – he was charming, gentlemanly, and seemed genuinely interested in you. Had it been another universe where you’d met, you would’ve agreed at his offer to a second date, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in this universe they had given you Hajime, took him away from you, and cruelly made your paths cross again. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. But I did leave the gang,” he informs, making your eyes widen. “I’ve been working in community outreach, helping at-risk youth. Trying to make a difference.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say, and you mean it. It isn’t surprising that Hajime has gone down this path; he’d always been full of compassion and integrity. A truly good man at his core. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”

Silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Even after so many years, you could read him like the back of your hand. Hajime had always worn his heart on a sleeve, the longing in his eyes mirroring your own. “Hajime,” your voice breaks as you dared take a step closer, “Why did you leave? Why did you disappear without a word?”

He looks away, his face falling. “Your dad found out about us,” he confesses quietly, “He asked me to leave you alone for your safety. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you away from harm and I – I’m not invincible, you know? He was right. Even if I did my best to protect you, as long as you’re with me, you were bound to get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you just left? Without telling me why?”

“I thought it was the best way to protect you,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I thought you would be better off without me.”

“But I wasn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping away the tears that fell. “I was heartbroken, Hajime. I waited for you. Do you know how long I spent hanging around the neighborhood, hoping you’d show up and tell me you’d changed your mind? I-I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

Hajime steps closer, regret pooling at his eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

All those years of pain and longing rose to the surface. “I missed you so much,” you say with a shaky voice. “Every day, Hajime. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he echoes, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought about you all the time. I wanted to come back, to explain everything, but I was afraid. Afraid that you’d moved on, that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stead yourself, hands clenching at your sides. “I never moved on, Hajime,” you whispered, “No one else could ever take your place.”

He reached out, gently brushing the tears that fell in a steady stream down your cheek. The warmth of his hand was welcomed in the night’s cold air, and you leant into it despite yourself. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “I should have fought harder for us. I should have told you the truth.”

The two of you stood there, the world around you forgotten as you were lost in each other’s eyes. The years apart had been cruel, but in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The familiar warmth of his gaze, the gentle curve of his smile – it all came rushing back to you, as vivid as the day you first met. The first time he’d taken your hand, the first time he’d hesitantly, yet eagerly, kissed you. You were just teenagers then, reckless and full of dreams, hiding in the shadows of your parents’ disapproval.

You could still recall the thrill of sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet him, the adrenaline of running into his arms through the streets, or the way he would wrap his arms around you to keep you warm on those chilly nights. The way he looked at you during those secret meetings, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. And his laughter, so genuine and infectious, had been your favorite sound.

You’d shared everything – your fears, your hopes, your plans for a future that seemed so close yet somehow always just out of reach.

“Is it too late for us?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Hajime shakes his head, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “It’s never too late. If you’ll have me again, I want to make things right. I want to be with you – to be the right one for you. Someone you wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I want that, too,” you say, your heart still full of love and longing for this man. “I never want to hide anymore, Hajime.”

— TOGAME JO.

When Hajime pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you feel whole again for the first time in years. The past had been painful, but it also led you back to each other – just like how he once said he would always look for you, in every lifetime, in every timeline. And as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, you knew and believed, that this time around, you would both be strong enough to overcome anything.

The nightclub was packed with people, the music pounding through the speakers, and the air thick with laughter and drunk conversations. You were out with your friends tonight, celebrating the end of a long week. For once, you felt free and unburdened. The neon lights flickered overhead, its colorful shadows dancing across the humid, jam-packed room.

You make your way to the dance floor, a sense of exhilaration passing over you. It had been years since you could go out like this – not needing a boyfriend’s permission, and doing whatever you liked, whenever you liked. Not that your exes were the controlling type – especially not Jo. Although looking back on it now, you wished he was a little bit controlling, just to show that he’d cared. Instead, Jo just nodded and hummed in response whenever you told him you were going out with friends, unbothered.

It had been two years since you last saw him, your first serious boyfriend after a string of failed situationships. You had shared so much with him, and yet, it had ended in a way that left a lingering ache that wouldn’t go away even after five drinks. The memories of your time together with Jo, both the bad and the good, were never far from your mind.

You’d long stopped trying to forget about him, however. Togame Jo was just someone you never forgot. Once he’d crawled his way into your heart, he’d make a home of it and have you carry the memories with him wherever you went.

He was your first love, after all. You’d been inseparable when you first started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, the type where you both clearly yearned for each other yet never had enough courage to say it out loud. The type of longing where everyone around you knew of your feelings except the two of you, and poor Sakura had had enough watching ‘the two lovesick fools.’ For months, the line between friendship and lovers blurred. You and Jo found yourself sharing secret glances from across the room, stiffening when the other’s knuckles brushed together, and heavily denying that no, they wouldn’t like me back, when it was as written in both your faces how badly you wanted each other.

And you did have each other, eventually. But as the months went by, things began to change.

Jo had become too relaxed, too comfortable now that he had you. He couldn’t see what you needed, or tell what it was you longed for – flowers, surprises, little gestures to show that he cared. Instead, your relationship had become routine. He rarely took you out on dates; most of your time was spent in his apartment, cuddling or sleeping, because Togame Jo slept like a log. And sure, you’d liked it at first. Basked in it even. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, and to wake up with your legs intertwined with each other, to hear his voice heavy with sleep call out your name.

Until the days became nothing but that – rotting in bed together. Each time you brought up wanting to spend time with him on a real date, Jo would just pull you back under the sheets, claiming you were warm and smelled too nice for him to want to leave the bed. It was something that upset you deeply, making you feel lonely even when he was right next to you.

You’d tried talking to him about it, but he never seemed to understand.

Jo was sweet and kind, but naïve in the sense that he made you feel invisible. The final straw came when you realized that being with him felt more painful than being alone. You’d hoped that he would fight for you, to ask you to stay, to see how much you were hurting and want to fix things. But when you said you felt like you and him weren’t working out anymore, all he’d said was, “Okay. If breaking up is what will make you happy, I respect that.”

You’re brought back to the present as the beat of the music pulled you onto the dance floor. You lost yourself in the rhythm, enjoying the moment, when someone bumped into you from behind. You whipped around, ready to apologize, only to be stunned into silence as you stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.

Togame says your name, his eyes wide as he balances a drink in his hand. “Jo,” you breathed out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest. Here he was, standing right in front of you after all these years.

“Hey,” he says, inching closer so you could hear him through the loud music. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has!” you replied, your voice barely audible over the noise. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” he says, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “And you?”

“Good, too!” you said, though it felt like a lie. Seeing him brought back all the unresolved feelings, the questions you had never asked, the words you had never said.

Before either of you could say more, the music shifted to a slower beat. The crowd around you moved in closer, forcing you and Jo to bump bodies until your chests were pressed against each other. Without thinking, Jo downs his drink in one and starts to dance with you, your bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm.

It was as if no time had passed at all, the familiarity of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The previous awkwardness began to melt away as you danced, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. It was both comforting and painful – a reminder of what you had lost. Years ago, before you started dating, you and Jo had been in the exact predicament – grinding and dancing on each other at some lame club Choji had VIP access too, touching each other yet still too hesitant to say what you truly felt. It felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Do you remember our first date?” Jo asked suddenly, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, you spilled your drink all over yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a pang through your heart. “Yeah, I thought I’d ruined everything. But you just laughed and said it was the best date you’d ever been on.”

“It was,” you say, your voice catching. “You were so sweet, Jo. You always were.”

“I tried,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I really did.”

The two of you continued to dance, the music swirling around you. The years apart seemed to disappear, leaving you both in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

 “Why did it end like that?” he asked after a while, his voice barely audible. “Why did you leave?”

You take a deep breath, the memories of your breakup – and the events leading to it – flooding back. “I felt like you didn’t see me anymore,” your voice trembles. “You stopped doing the little things that made me feel special. You were always so relaxed, so comfortable, and I felt… lonely.”

“I didn’t know,” Jo frowns, and you know he means it. He looked so confused; like hearing this from you now made everything clear, and all the while more confusing. “I thought everything was fine. I thought you were happy. I thought we were happy.”

“I tried to tell you,” you remind him, with tears stinging your eyes. Those endless nights of trying to be subtle, showing him photos of flower bouquets and mentioning twice about this restaurant you’ve been eyeing in hopes he’d take you there. He never did, because Jo liked the sight of you cooking in his apartment more. “But you never understood. And when I finally said we weren’t working out, you just agreed. You didn’t fight for us, Jo.”

His grip on your hips tightens, then falters. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought if I let you go, you’d be happier.”

“I missed you,” you finally admit, circling your arms around his thick neck and pressing your forehead against his. “Even after everything, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes closing as he breathes in your perfume. “Every day.”

You continued to dance, your bodies swaying gently to the music – simply because you’d both lost the words to say. As you moved in unison, your eyes don’t stray from each other, soaking in the other’s presence because it might be the last time you’d ever hold each other like this again. For a moment, it felt like you were healing, like you were finally letting go of the past.

In his embrace, there was a sense of closure, a quite promise that despite everything, one thing stayed true: you loved each other truly. The bitterness of your separation melted away, leaving behind a tender acknowledgement of what you had once meant everything to each other. It wasn’t a return to what you’d lost, but the shared knowledge that your history still held value. Now, it was time to step forward, and finally find peace.

Finally, the song ends. You pull apart from him slightly, your gazes still locked. There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you still felt. But for now, this was enough. You’d found each other again, even if it was just for a short, fleeting moment.

And it was in his eyes, too – the unspoken question if you could try one more time.

Everything in your heart and mind wanted to say yes. Yes, come back to me, Jo. Come back to me and I’ll spend forever in your bed, but it was too early. The wounds too fresh. You knew that going back to the same place and person that hurt you wouldn’t heal you. It was impossible. And Jo knew that, too.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, pulling away and detangling his arms from yours. Already, you were missing the heat of him, the strength of his body against yours.

“You too, Jo,” you reply, your heart aching for him one last time.

You part ways again – Jo with Choji and your mutual friends you’d said goodbye too, and you back to the new friends you’d made when you tried building a world that didn’t revolve around him. But this time, it felt different.

You’d acknowledged your past, and while it still hurt – saying goodbye to Jo never felt easy – it also felt like a step toward the right direction. And as you walked away, you glanced back at him one last time, seeing Jo standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave his world once more.

[savorypink]

focus!

you are everything. he's just alex.

smut.

"You said I'd get an A. What is this?"

You toss the paper in his direction as if it's contaminated. The B minus scribbled in the corner of your paper marks the beginning of the plague of imperfection threatening to riddle your body. If you held it any longer, your fingertips would've turned black. Alex merely stands there, but his heart begs to jump out of his chest.

"Well, uh," He stammers, admittedly cutely. "I had other papers to finish, and you asked me to do yours while I was busy..."

Your lips curl into a pout, and Alex feels his jeans tighten. "So, I'm not a priority?"

"No, no, no! It's not like that!" His voice is drenched in panic while yours remains coated in molasses. "I just...had things to do, y'know?"

"Important things? More important than me?"

You bat your lashes this time, and his knees turn to pudding. "Never! No!"

Opening your laptop, you ignore his reddening features and click on your e-mail. "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to ask for a rewrite, and you're gonna write me a brand new paper—one that'll get me an A. Understand?"

He nods frantically, but you don't see with your head buried in your computer. "Verbal confirmation, please." You reiterate. 

"Whatever you say."

You peer from your laptop to smile at him, sweet and warm as spring. "You're the best, Aly."

Alex granted every wish you pleaded for whenever you waved a manicured finger. Your friends had been kind enough to direct you to him at a campus party. Timid and reeking of cigarettes, he fumbled with his flirting as he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. Your gaze proved too intense for him, and it wasn't like you were listening anyway. You gathered that Alex majors in monkeys and is in a band called Literature. Something tells you that you've mixed those two things up, but as long as he agreed to do your work, it didn't matter what he did on the side—or what he did at all. You ruled the pristine hallways of your university while he meekly sniffed the breeze in your wake. You've given more attention to the gum underneath your shoes.

It plucks your nerves when you realise he's still standing there, but you open your Myspace and begin scrolling. "You can go now. You have a paper to write."

Your brutal, icy shoulder only makes him eager to restore your warmth, but Alex isn't partial to a little bit of snow, and you could be a blizzard at times. "Well, I did write your paper, and um—"

"And what?" Your fuse is as short as your skirt.

His shaky fingers fiddle with the white sleeves of his hoodie, nausea and lust churning and warming his stomach. "You still haven't paid me. And there's the paper before that..."

And the one before that, too. You haven't been holding your end of the bargain, and the poor boy is within his right to complain. But, oh, you're just so busy! Sports, school, getting your nails done—okay, you may have told a tale or two to get out of doing your assignments, but what did he think making a deal with you would entail? If anything, he should be thankful for the attention. You don't have time to waste on boys.

Closing your laptop, you rise from your desk. As you take two steps forward, Alex takes two timid steps backwards until you've backed him into your bed.

"But Aly," you whine as you straddle him, "I told you I was busy that day! And I don't pay you to write papers that don't get me an A. In fact, I think you've been slacking."

Alex begins fisting the pink bed sheets in abundance, the sweet scent of your cotton candy perfume inescapable and dizzying. "No! 's not true!"

You pout with faux sympathy as your fingers work on unbuckling his belt. "Yes, it is! I'm worried about you, actually..." You cup his chin and turn his head to examine the acne along his jawline. "You're breaking out like crazy! Stress causes pimples, you know!" You exclaim. 

Your touches, while minimal and featherlight, nearly make him cream his pants. His large Bambi eyes look up at you in spectacle and guidance as you pull him out of his jeans, the leaky tip of his cock barely grazing the silk of your panties.

"My poor Aly, you're stressed 'cause you're not focused!" You pull your panties to the side before sinking onto him. Your hand clamps over his mouth before he can let out a pathetic, low groan. "You gotta stop worrying about everything and focus on me!"

"Y-yeah? You think?" His body melts into the sheets as your core swallows him whole, his eyes painfully rolling behind his skull. "Fuck, you're so tight..."

You take his lifeless hands and guide them under your skirt. His clammy palms restore to life to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass while his hips needily buck into you, a plea for movement on your end. Since you're feeling generous, you peel off your shirt and toss your bra to the side. Part of your deal was that he only saw you naked when your grades were above average. You begin with small, courteous bunny hops on his dick, and Alex is already mewling, his nails digging deliciously painfully into your skin. You hiss, and you remove his hands from your ass and place them on your chest, bouncing on him harsher and faster.

"You're not even looking at me! It's like you don't even care!" Your frown is prominent in your words, and you know he'll light himself on fire if it means you'd never have to cry. His eyes creak open, albeit slowly. The sun outside your window casts warm rays onto your form, your skin and hair shimmering brightly without effort, evidently celestial. The only thing you need is a halo.

"Huh?" His tone is reminiscent of how he stares at you, love-drunk and in a blissful, rose-coloured haze. Your bouncing slows, and Alex quickly throws a fit, languidly and whiny, squeezing your breasts needily. Your core tightens its embrace around him, your slick dribbling hot and slippery down his weeping cock. The bed creaks as you dip to his eye level, the bubblegum flavour of your lipgloss mere kisses away as your lips ghost over his trembling mouth.  

"See? You don't even listen!" You wail as you glide your pulsating walls up and down his cock at a snail's pace. "I've been so kind and sweet to you, and you can't even get me an A. I thought you liked me. I thought you'd be good for me."

His grubby paws claw and clutch at your skirt while his legs kick wildly at nothing. The movements rumble your bed, and your meticulously positioned stuffed animals fall to their sides. Your name spills from his mouth like a broken faucet, and your hips show no sign of speeding despite your core being enamoured by his desperation. "I'm good! Promise!"

"I know, baby. You just need to focus!" You kiss his flushed cheek before towering above him again. "So, what are you gonna do for me?"

You resume your bounces, and Alex rejoices with a hoarse moan. His large hands enclose your breasts to toy with them roughly, squeezing and kneading until your nipples respond in stiffness. "I'm gonna write you a paper. A good one! Really good..."

You give a roll of your hips as a courtesy. "Good boy."

His sloppy hips meet your bunny hops halfway as something sticky and hot begins to trickle down his cock. Your ride gets slippery and, to your annoyance, messier. You mask your desperation with aggression and bounce faster, your hands full with the sweaty fabric of his polo shirt. A particular spot within your core is struck, and your walls quiver around him in surrender, and, just this once, you moan. Alex stumbles in your wake, weakly moaning as he splotches your walls with his warm, irritatingly gluey release.

His whining and pants persist as you climb off his lap, ricocheting off the walls of your small dorm. You give him one last once-over as he liquefies into your sheets, churning into a puddle of pathetic lust and goo. You dig through your chest underneath your bed and fish out a fresh pair of panties, pulling off your worn ones and tossing them across Alex's deflating and expanding chest. He flinches cutely.

"For your troubles." You snort as you pull on fresh panties. You don't realise how low on panties you are until you pull on your shirt; perhaps you've been too generous with your handouts.

"They're doing dorm inspections today, so don't overstay your welcome. And clean yourself up, please?" you instruct, pulling on your jacket before throwing your gym bag over your shoulder. "I'd invite you to my practice, but I know you'll be busy with my paper tonight."

"Yeah..." He huffs. "Busy..."

You swing the door open and smile. "You're the best, Aly."

As you exit, your descent downstairs halts when you pull out your phone to relay a message your favourite puddle of goo.

There's Clearasil and pimple patches in my drawer. Thank me later. x

Opening the outside door, you remember one more thing.

And I want my panties back!!!

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

----------------------

Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[greythemed]

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ polymyxin b. ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 9005 (i am so sorry).

“stop pressing it, you dumbass!”. you exclaim in discomfort, but shamefully not because of you.

“it’s just a bruise, some nebacetin will do it”. your boyfriend’s reaction was pissing you off more than his colleague’s grunting behind you.

“it’s not just a bruise, that was metal they were hitting you with”. your angry tone left space for your saddened one and gun-woo did not like it at all. “why did you guys agree on that anyway?!”.

“it was his idea”, they both said it simultaneously, pointing fingers at each other making you roll your eyes.

“ya, y/n”. woo-jin called you. “don’t be so mean to him, he dodged almost every punch wonsuk-subaenim threw at him”.

was that supposed to calm you down? a middle finger was pointed at the older man next to your boyfriend, gun-woo laughing.

"aish-", woojin gets up to grab a towel and you laugh a little seeing woo-jin's response. "i miss when your girlfriend wasn't a professional doctor, gunwoo-ya". gun-woo smiles shyly and you return to your job on your boyfriend's abs.

"shut up, old man". you ignored him.

"see?! she doesn't respect me!". it was your turn to laugh, ignoring him once again.

“i can’t work properly without some soothing paste, gun-woo, look at this mess”, the frustration was evident in your voice, manicured hand tracing his right side carefully which made the boy a little sad and impatient.

“it’s okay jagiya, don’t worry too much”. he turned to you after throwing a nasty looking at his best friend for not helping and held your face in his hands. he hated to admit that he could see tears forming in your eyes. “we can take a look after napping today, what do you think? you must be exhausted”.

the brutal difference between your little hand and his almost pierced skin shamefully stole his attention for a couple of minutes. without even noticing, your other hand grabbed his shorts so tightly it was starting to color your knuckles white.

worriedly, gun-woo laced his fingers with yours and made him eye-level with you, damp hair and sweaty armpits ticking his brain saying you should shower after a training session that long but his mind was nowhere near worrying about himself.

“hey, look at me”. his voice sounded lenient enough that even woo-jin got quiet on the other side of the room. "it's okay, baby, i'm gonna be fine".

“you’re the one that should be exhausted, not me”. you complain about his kindness, starry eyes becoming glossy minute after minute, making the man in front of you almost panic.

“don’t think i don’t know you worked the whole day”. he says brushing your hair behind your ear. “mr. seo said you’ve been taking your colleagues' shifts too”.

your pout only grows like a kid being caught stealing candies at a party. it was so frustrating dating a boxer when you built your whole life around saving people's lives, choosing the most efficient predicament to help someone on the verge of dying, or physically taking matters into your own hands to avoid any nasty side-effects that could change a person's life forever.

leaving patients behind to suffer wasn't an option for you, let alone postpone the pains and unattended injuries of your loved ones.

“the skin, gun-woo”, you return to ramble and point at the purple bruise on his body. “it needs bacitracin and polymyxin b otherwise it’s going to get pretty ugly. imagine the metal pierced your skin? that would be the end, god".

“baby, stop thinking about it”. he lifts your chin so you’d stop looking at the bruise. “i won and that’s what matters, right? just one more week and we’re going to the finals half, it’ll be over soon”.

a pout was formed and your lips quivered. you’ve never cried in front of gun-woo before and his reaction was pure terror. you didn’t know what got you so worked up after the match against his stupid coach and that stupid ugly machine, but you winced every time his grunts on the ring got louder and louder.

a couple of minutes into the last round, you regretted coming to see his training, he kind of forgot to tell you that it wasn't the usual gym sessions anymore, and now they were approaching a more realistic season of monthly fights coordinated by his coach.

you hated his coach from now on and that was final.

gun-woo’s eyes were round and full of stress when you cleaned the first tear that have fallen on your left cheek, averting your gaze to the table behind him and trying to distract yourself.

“people with skin infections have a higher risk of low immune responses and vice-versa”, you continue, “they can vary from mild to serious”. gun-woo grips your arm.

"baby".

"are your vaccines up to date?". you asked him and he nodded. "god, that could've turned into a fucking lockjaw or something, gun-woo". he looked at you with pity and panicked.

"i'm okay, see?". he points to his sweaty chest. "we came to the doc appointment last week and we were all good, right, hyung?". gun-woo glances at woo-jin silently asking for help.

unfortunately, gun-woo was inexperienced in this dating thing and sometimes needed the help of his dramatic hyung.

"oh, yes, yes, yes. the doctor said we were new as a baby and wonsuk-ssi even congratulated us". the boxer held his thumbs up in an exagerated sign and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "the diet has been doing good for us! stop worrying too much kid, you're sounding like his mom".

you looked at your boyfriend with glassy eyes and a red nose, turning your back to woo-jin so he couldn't see your crying expression and hopeless state. you trusted the man with your life just as gun-woo did, but something about the ugly-looking bruise on your boyfriend's side was starting to look too scary for you.

"neomycin, compression, elevation, and a bruise-healing diet can also help speed up the healing process, but that looks scary". breathing deeply, you point to the injured local and grimace. "15—20 minutes of ice packs for 3—4 days will do it unless the skin is pierced". you pause, talking to yourself. "we better get going or you'll start bleeding soon".

"baby".

"arnica gel is useless here". you take a step forward and breathe deeply again. "fuck it, i'm applying vaseline if it gets worse".

"y/n". gun-woo called you but none of that was working.

"tell me if it starts bleeding, please? do not press it or else the blood will fuck everything up".

“woah, she is a stress-talker i can see”. on the other side of the changing room, woo-jin's comment made you think he deserves death.

“aish-, will you stop?”. gun-woo hugged your head in his chest and grimaced at his best friend next to the door. he was starting to get frustrated with your state and didn't know what to do.

woo-jin also came to see the fight but it turns out he was only making things worse in this moment.

“what? i am too!”. woo-jin defends. “i get all talkative when i’m stressed, but just not all of that smarty stuff she sayin’”.

“baby, we’re going home yeah?”. gun-woo patted your shoulder, dismissing his friend and looking at you. “there you can take a closer look and then we order food, hm?”.

your boyfriend was waiting for your response when he got a change of plans.

“sounds good!”. woo-jin exclaimed and you could feel your boyfriend rolling his eyes.

you swear to god woo-jin wasn’t usually this persistent.

gun-woo ignored him, which you found a little cute in your opinion, and even laughed a little.

“okay, but you’ll have to promise me to rest tonight”. you look up at his eyes and your boyfriend smiles. it was different to have someone other than his annoying best hyung or his mother worrying about his well-being, and for sure it was the first time someone this 'brainly' took care of him.

after being alone for so long, gun-woo appreciated your nurturing nature like no other and wanted to stop the negative feelings blooming in your chest right now.

“okay, i promise”. he presses a quick kiss on your lips, which was accompanied by a little wince since he had to bend down to your height to reach your face.

"ooh, i'm sorry". you grimaced apologetically.

he smiled and turned to reach for his shirt beside you, putting it on while waiting for you to pick his things up. gun-woo had to admit that was the most intense fake match his coach had put him into. maybe you were right and he should rest tonight.

"i met him first". gun-woo can hear woo-jin's voice threatening you at the door. he only went to wave his coach goodbye and came back for a bickering woo-jin and a pouty y/n. "he was just fine when it was only me and him".

"you smell like belly pork and not in a good way". you replied.

"aish-, respect your elders, kid". woo-jin's eyes were round and menacing. "i saved his life more than once, okay? we are brothers at heart, we even share our clothes!".

"his mom loves me, she even cooked me bulgogi when we first met!". that was you on your tip-toes beckoning woo-jin to the door, a man at least seven inches taller than you. his face was frightened and his hands were defensively in front of him. "and i know exactly when to turn the grill on when we're going out!".

gun-woo's shirt was too tight for him to keep listening to your argument, and he definitely was starting to feel his right side itching when the tissue came in contact with the bruise.

"aish-, that was one time!". woo-jin defended. "and you'll never know how a boxer's spirit works because we invented it".

"liar! you said you preferred mayweather when you guys first met, and i know this because he told me himself".

"oh please i am a manny pacquiao enthusiast at heart and forever will be. and! i've also seen his d-".

"ya, would you both stop?". gun-woo interrupted his friend with a glare, warily pulling you back so you wouldn't hit his friend across his face. "i'm tired and it's getting late".

"he started". you pointed at the older man. "and i've seen more than his dick, you old".

"ya!". gun-woo looks at you affronted and woo-jin starts laughing, hiding his mouth when gun-woo pretends to hit him.

"she gots quite the temper, bro". woo-jin had to point it out. "woo, i'm excited! finally someone who matches my energy".

"you both should stop". your boyfriend tsks and you look at him smiling. "and you shouldn't listen to him". he says.

"don't say it like we're finished, boxer". you threaten woo-jin with your eyes and gun-woo has to stand between both of you so you wouldn't jump the man scaringly.

"ya, take good care of my lil bro for me, yeah?". he taps gun-woo's shoulders and they both smile at each other intensively.

"aish-, it looks like you're both exactly in love, stop that".

"yes! she's getting jealous!". woo-jin exclaims.

"hyung, you're wife is waiting for you, just go". gun-woo whines at the man and he smiles, seeming to finally remember he has his own real lover. "woah, that's true, i'm going!". woo-jin starts running down the hall and waving at both of you goodbye, finally letting your boyfriend go smiling like an idiot.

gun-woo takes his bag from your shoulders and you both start walking down the hall hand in hand. for now, you choose to silence your concerns about the big boy and just plan a peaceful ride back to your home.

"take your clothes off". your voice sounded a little too low for gun-woo's liking and he couldn't suppress a smile. glancing at you, he couldn't help but find his all-black gym set a little out of place in your all-pink bedroom. to no surprise, you perfectly fit in the pastel colors you were wearing.

"buy me a dinner first, sailor". he had to joke looking at you and taking his tight gym shirt off. instantly, he felt his side ache. something damp ran down his ribs and gun-woo cursed when he spotted blood in the rem of his shorts.

well, wasn't that just great?

looking at the bathroom mirror, he grimaced pressing the purple and red spot with his other hand.

"don't". you came from nowhere, taking his bigger hand off of him and analyzing the situation with - what your boyfriend liked to call - doctor face. a first-aid kit was on your arms the instant you glanced at the little blood accumulating on the bruise. gun-woo attentively stared at your facial expressions worried about what you were going to do.

to his surprise, only a sigh escaped your lips, and the boxer was guided to sit on the bathtub behind him, your little hand holding two of his fingers so he could follow you. it was funny how larger his frame was compared to yours in the small white bathroom.

"does it hurt a lot?". you ask worriedly wiping his skin.

"no". he wasn't necessarily lying, you both knew how pain tolerance worked for gun-woo. "just itchy". he made a face and clicked his tongue boringly.

you looked attentively at the injury while avoiding your hands on the more reddened area.

gun-woo thought your size was the perfect complement to your cute personality. when he first met you, your height was the first thing that he noticed after your soft hair. of course, accompanied by your scary father he didn't dare to even look at your way properly, but his first impression of you was something the boy held dearly in his heart.

your smart brain was when everything became blurry to the boxer. for a recently graduated student, gun-woo knew your knowledge was freshly put into place, and added to the great things he had heard about your intellect before meeting your father, he knew you were smart. but imagine the surprise when he first saw you dealing with your father's disease from up-close, admiring your basically perfect approach and ripeness to everything handed to you.

it didn't click him. how could someone so delicate-looking be so splendidly clever and loveable at the same time. he thought it was unfair the fact that you were so effortlessly sexy in his eyes. and that was a first for the boxer.

you were his first everything.

"this has to have knocked the air out of your lungs". you state while kneeling on the floor in front of him, making the boy gulp and avert his gaze suddenly embarrassed.

“hm, yeah”. he gulped even harder. “but just for a moment, though. coach didn’t want to stop”.

between his parted legs, you were insinuating things he had trouble forgetting, and with one more glance at you, he had to part his lips surprised because jesus christ, why were you tying your goddamn hair?

"i'm talking to wonsuk-subaenim about this no matter what". you looked up at him and he quickly averted his gaze. "that stupid machine has to go away".

two weeks ago. in this same bathroom. you were wearing your pink PJs late at night and he swore he had never seen your lips that glossy. the position was the same. he remembers it all too well and has to shake his head to not make things harder for him.

"jagi-".

"i'm serious, gun-woo". now was his turn to sigh. why were you pretending this didn't do anything to you? was he the creepy one? oh god, he definitely was the creepy one. 

his eyes were as round as a golf ball as he looked at your innocent expression and silently cursed his inappropriate thoughts.

gun-woo swore he wasn't like this before meeting you. he was a decent young man with respectable beliefs and a proud mother that admired and trusted him blindly.

being an athlete, gun-woo was often proclaimed for his self-control and disciplined routines. now, only a glance at your smooth skin without too much clothing was enough to have the man spiraling and sweating.

four months ago he wasn't like this.

"it's the second time this happens. remember that day in your mom's apartment? you told me you'd take more care of yourself". you continue to speak nonchalantly, rambling your frustrations to the man.

"it was a snap kick i wasn't ready for". he clears his throat hoping to not sound too raspy. "coach didn't tell me on time". you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"i am going to need an elastic bandage for this". you say more to yourself, warm hands inspecting the swelled area while your boyfriend examines your face panicked. because why were you so close to his fucking crotch? "and also a heating pad to clear up the trapped blood. will you hold it for me?". you ask him to hold the warm cloth while you searched for more things for help in the first-aid kit.

"baby, could you work on this side first?". he shyly asked, thick thighs trapping you in place to gather your attention. the boxer had to summon all the courage in the world to politely ask you this. the little yelp you let out because of the sudden touch made him blush involuntarily. "s-sorry".

his voice was so low and raspy that made you question what the hell was going on. even involuntarily, his voice always gave him in.

"oh my god, did i hurt you?". you worriedly questioned, getting up quickly so you could examine him from afar.

"no, no". he waves it off, gulping a few times so the embarrassment could pass.

it wasn't working.

"it's just that... that position". he pointed to the floor where you were previously sitting and saw exactly the moment your expression changed.

"what?". your confusion was clearly shown by your knitted brows and opened mouth.

"the position you were in... you know...". he gulped more times than he could count and could feel the fire his cheeks were on at that moment. only when his hands fled to his crotch area as if trying to hide something that your brain finally clicked.

"kim geun-woo, is that a boner? oh my god". he grimaced embarrassingly. "how could you think of things like that when your skin is basically peeling?!".

"c'mon, baby, i was trying to be discreet". he interrupts you, dying to pull your hands so he could properly apologize to you but you kept getting away. "i'm sorry, it's just that it triggered a memory of us a while ago and you tied your hair and everything and my brain stopped braining".

"you need to go to church, you pervert". his pout was something you were accustomed to, and his shy whines were a great reminder that, even if your boyfriend looked like a war trunk and sculpted by the sky itself, he still was stupidly timid when it came to things like this. "i'm joking". you laugh and he rambles.

"i'm not asking for anything! just s-stay here". he points to the floor next to his right leg, a different space from where you were before. "please".

"how long have you been like this?". a shit-earing grin was starting to adorn your face, almost forgetting about the important task you had at hand.

"i-i'm not asking anything, i swear". he repeats in despair. "i don't want you to feel uncomfortable, please".

"uncomfortable?". you approach him laughing. "baby, you're my boyfriend for a reason, you could never make me uncomfortable. that happens sometimes, no need to feel embarrassed about it".

"well, i'm just worried sometimes because of... you know what". instantly, your heart grew all soft.

"oh my god, are you talking about what i told you the other day?". your round eyes were glued to the man in front of you, hands swiftly caressing his sweaty hair while you fought the urge to kiss his forehead.

"you said you didn't have great experiences in the past and, even though i wonder sometimes, i don't feel like it would be nice to ask you which ones. so i try to just avoid situations like this so you won't think of me as just another dirty-minded creep". he explains and you kiss him.

you wanted to cry. and suck the life out of him. at the same time. because that's just how dating kim geun-woo makes you feel.

"i'd never think of you in that way, oppa". you hugged his head on your chest and he nosely laughed, finally relieved for not completely fucking things up. "i would suck you anytime, anywhere you want, you know that". you say and he looks up at you seriously.

"ya, stop teasing".

"i'm serious, i literally am in love with you and your co-".

"oh my god, you need church". he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to take control of his own body.

"you're like the most romantic and sweetest guy a girl could ever want. and then your dick had to be big too!".

"ya!". gun-woo looked serious and you smiled at that. what he didn't notice was that he was gripping your ass unconsciously in his nervous state.

"pervert". you whispered in his ear and he immediately stopped.

"i'm going to go, woojin-hyung is not so mean to me as you are". he pretends to start getting up and you hold his arms laughing. his whiny tone was so cute you could die.

"i'm sorry, sorry! it's just so easy to mess with you". he glared at you and you smirked. "i can't let an injured man run around the streets alone, especially an uncontrolled one".

"just wait for this fucking thing to heal, y/n". you opened your mouth in shock. was that veins popping on his temples?

"language!".

"sorry, sorry, can you please do your job?".

you laughed at that and kneeled at his side, sensing that he was starting to become frustrated. you weren't sure why, but at this beginning of your sexual life, you found yourself often giving in to his wishes afraid that you are stepping into a hole with no way up.

gun-woo made you feel safe - not uncomfortable in any way. but sometimes you doubted the man was engaged in this type of thing at all because he seemed to skip any opportunity he has to rock your world daily. you trusted him and respected his slow pace.

you made the order in your head, soothing the area with some polymyxin b and nebacetin, soothing oils for the itchy feeling to go away, and vaseline to keep the wound moist. after that, you wrapped the bruise with an elastic bandage and gently pressed the heated cloth there for a few minutes.

too tempted, you sneaked a glance at your boyfriend's shorts.

"oh my god, it's huge".

for one second, you thought you were flying across the bathroom and the other you realized gun-woo had got up so fast you fell backward and hit your head on the marble floor. the pain shoots straight to your neck and ear almost instantly.

"omo!". gun-woo came to the rescue in panic, seeing what he has done. "are you alright?". he asked worried.

"it was a compliment, idiot!". you screamed at him, grimacing at the new feeling in your head. "what is wrong with you?".

"so now it's my fault?". he defended. "you're not supposed to be saying things like that when is not sexy time!".

“don’t say ‘sexy time’!”.

“you can’t keep doing this, i’m trying to be polite here!”.

"i was just teasing you!". you glanced at his stoic face and got up with his help, patting your head where it hurt most, thankful to find no blood in the area.

"it turns me on!". he confessed and for a minute you were glued to the ground. "it makes me want to take you to bed and have sexy time when you're all bratty and mouthy". his raspidly voice said and you had to grip the counter behind you so you wouldn't fall again.

what did he just tell you?

"oh". it was your turn to feel the fire on your cheeks. "i-i didn't know, i'm sorry, i thought...". you guiltily gulped staring at gun-woo's chest before looking him in the eyes.

"i'm trying to take things slow but you don't help, y/n". the sincerity in his raspy voice made you almost want to shy away. forwardness never looked so sexy in someone like it does to him. "i'm not that experienced, you know that, so i don't know what you like and don't like and that makes me scared to fuck it up. and, god, that makes me fucking insane because all i can think about is you all the time".

your sweaty palms gripped the bloodied rem of his shorts and you closed the gap between the two of you, steading your wobbly feet with gun-woo's help. the proximity made him crazy and you could see the mental battle he was going through in his head. you pecked his lips three times before whispering.

"why be scared?". your starry eyes locked him in place and gun-woo swore he couldn't move, your question making him confused. "i also want you all the time, oppa. i think of you all the time, that's why is so hard for me to see you getting hurt and i want to cry my eyes out when it happens. you drive me crazy, oppa".

"i'm sorry". you didn't know he was talking about what have happened in the ring or about what he was going to do to you because suddenly his expanded pupils made his eyes get darker and darker and you were almost crying from the anticipation of feeling him anywhere.

"i'm worried you'll get more hurt". one of your hands traveled to his injured side, never leaving his gaze. "you should... i'm sorry, gun-woo, we shouldn't-".

"you promise to tell me if anything feels wrong?". he cuts you off by arching your back and locking his eyes with you, entirely invading your personal space. "if you don't like something, do you promise to make me stop? because i swear to god i can't take it anymore, y/n". he whispered the last part on your mouth and you swore the cat got your tongue for a minute.

"uhum". you nod your head and gun-woo stayed still, arching his brows as if challenging you not to finish the sentence. "i promise, oppa". you said breathly, eyes focused on his and nowhere else.

you could feel all of gun-woo's desire pulsing deliciously beneath him, hard and voluminous, inciting your intimacy to slowly release lubricant.

you were curious. his face was cute and his body was a sin, but not all of the morals and good mannerisms in the world could hide the true desire of a person. you knew he always wanted more and you were so curious to find out what exactly his innocent brain had conjured in all these months of dating you.

gun-woo panted softly, having complete control of your body now that your toes were barely touching the ground, back arching even more while he took a deep breath next to your ear. and then he started teasing his own body as he rocked back and forth, slowly, in search of relief. and using you.

you kissed his neck, and there was when you worked him up with little kisses and shy licks, making him more and more susceptible to pleasure. gun-woo was such a selfless person that he felt scared of taking instead of giving and you wanted to prove him wrong. you wanted to prove to him that sex is good regardless of your position.

you didn't count on his strength in moments like this, but he was a boxer, after all, so you were silly to think he would take it easy on you. only one minute in and his grip was so strong on your skin that you were certain your ass was battered, squeezed, and still under the fabric of your slacks.

you knew his body all too well, you saw him naked countless times and so did he with you in the last 4 months. but never he did what he wanted with you. too shy, too aware, too scared to ask you. because that's just what gun-woo was.

selfless.

he pulled your face away from his neck so that he could bring his full lips to yours. you were kissed at the pace he dictated, in the way he wanted, fast and wild. both of your tongues collided in a hot, pleasurable slide.

you swore this wasn't the same man who had blushed at remembering you sucking him off minutes ago.

gun-woo sucked hard on your voluminous lips every time he withdrew his tongue, which you insisted on sucking in the most erotic way possible whenever he invaded your mouth. meanwhile, your hips were manipulated by the boxer's hands, which made them rise and fall slowly on his still-covered cock.

your hips were placed on the counter and you finally realized you didn't have much place to run after that. you were trapped between your sink and a 6ft tall man in front of you with sirened eyes that could kill you.

your pants gradually gained moisture, and the moan you let out when gun-woo gripped your ass with more force maddened the boxer even more, making him stop the kiss and go down with his stimulations on your neck and collarbone, seconds later capturing one of your clothed nipples between his lips and sucking it.

you bit your bottom lip and intertwined your fingers in gun-woo's hair, with his head tilted up, eyes closed and lips parting as he let out gasps of pure delight. the moan you let out when he invaded your pants with his hands and started unbuttoning your jeans and unconsciously scraping your clit was so purely erotic that even he grunted.

"sorry". his gruff voice was rushed as if he felt bad for you but at the same time didn't actually give a shit and was only trying to be polite - trying not to lose his complete sanity.

which was slowly faltering.

you pushed his head against your chest in response, undulating your hips over his hard prominence and the boxer's reaction was to feel a painful twinge in his pelvis and moan.

he raised his head, eyes even darker, then glared at you. he touched your chin with his thumb and slid it across your lips while breathing deeply.

you reached into his pants and touched him, initiating continuous movements along his entire length. gun-woo's lips parted and his brows furrowed, giving you the most obscene view you've ever seen of his face.

hot scar glowing in his sweaty skin and cutting the right side of his entire cheek. 

his body was getting hotter, your body was getting hotter, his cock getting harder and your pussy getting wetter. it was painful to repress his own urges.

"fuck". you brought his dick out of his shorts and jerked it off, hands almost trembling with so much tenseness your crotch area was feeling. getting him off made you want to cry.

gun-woo closed his eyes and gasped when you massaged his glans wet by pre-cum.

"gun-woo". you called him in such a whiny tone that made him go crazy, hiding his face on your neck and biting his lips until it draw blood to his mouth. "i c-can't". you tried to say and his ears perked up. "i'm too wet, i d-don't know what to do". it was embarrassing for you to confess something like that, but hearing gun-woo's grunts and quiet moans was making you wetter and wetter. and you weren't lying, you actually didn't know what to do because you've never been this turned on before.

what the hell?

"fuck, don't call me that, baby". he breathed on your neck and for a second you were afraid he could smell your fucking pre-cum pooling on your panties.

"stop moaning in my ear, for fuck's sake". you didn't know where the strength to say a full sentence came from suddenly but you were afraid a simple touch of the man was going to make you fucking cum.

is this how you feel when you fuck someone you love? mighty skies above, you'll have to do this every day now. 

"what do you want me to do when you won't stop squeezing my fucking dick, princess?". his voice sounded more like a growl than an actual human sound and you whined even louder in return.

you arched your body as he trailed his fingertips along your back, intensifying the contact of his thigh against your intimacy. you parted your lips and let out a high moan in response to his touches.

suddenly, you were so sensitive you could cry.

gun-woo felt your grip on his dick falter as if giving him a break. finally, the man could breathe properly again.

the next second, you felt your lips numb with such force that gun-woo sucked them, your body limp as he ultimately took control of your body.

not platonically, but literally.

"fuck, gun-... please".

like a ragdoll, he manhandled you in a position where your cunt was pressed directly on his flexed thigh, making you cry. frustratingly kicking your pants off of you, gun-woo helped you strip the rest of your clothes off before positioning you in the same place as before and teasing your bare pussy lips with his muscles.

you felt him capturing your left nipple and massaging it with his thumb, hearing your sighs between the kiss. as he stimulated the areola, he felt it getting rigid. gun-woo introduced his tongue into your mouth and played with your whiny moans.

your body was tactful to the boxer's touch, and when you felt the digits tightening around your areola, you couldn't help but dig your toes into his butt and moan muffledly, with gun-woo's tongue entering and leaving your mouth, slowly.

a trickle of saliva ran down the corner of the man's mouth. he closed his eyes to focus on the sensations. your excited pussy continued to be stimulated by his thigh, as well as your chest. he was still sucking your tongue when he felt his member pulsate painfully, brushing on your other thigh and moving a little farther to the left, bringing both of your crotches together and beginning a slow rub, undulating his hips in such a way that you stopped sucking his tongue and gasped in delight, squeezing his biceps tighter.

"gun-woo".

he kissed your lips and bit the bottom one, slowly pulling it away from your teeth.

his mouth moved down your jaw and onto your neck, where he could hear your gasps more audibly as he tongue-kissed the warm, milky skin of your throat, careful to leave pretty marks in his travel. his fingers were sadly no longer playing with your nipples, now they were on your bent thigh, holding it firmly as he rubbed himself shamelessly against your body.

gun-woo was using you to get off.

sensing what your boyfriend was finally doing, you cocked your head and with heavy, fluttering eyelids, watched your boyfriend's unholy face in pure delight. parted lips, messy hair, and one of your legs wrapped around him.

you watched, full of lust, as the boxer rubbed himself on you. kissing your neck ardently to the point of trembling eyes.

you already felt your opening releasing natural lubrication and wondered why haven't this man done this to you before.

"i can't anymore, gun-woo. p-please".

"please? do you need something, princess?". he spoke softly but with full of warning.

"fuck... you. need you".

"yeah right, you do". his comment was so lowered that you wondered if you had imagined it for a second. "need you too, princess, don't worry".

in a swift moment, your torso was thrown directly in his chest, your arms circling his neck for purchase while gun-woo hugged your body and finally walked towards your bedroom. when you said you were a ragdoll was because you felt like one, being tossed in the bed without an ounce of strength in your limbs and you weren't even fucked yet.

he then grabbed your waist again and kissed you, meanwhile, you took his shorts off completely, admiring the messy state he made with his liquids. gun-woo grabbed your ass once again and squeezed them, sliding his fingers through the partition between them and smearing all over your ass with his own lubrication.

oh my god. this man was sick.

"gun-woo". you called him whiny.

he climbed off the bed and pulled you to the edge simultaneously, manhandling your body as he wished. when both of your feet hit the floor, he tore his lips from yours and looked at you.

"do you mind?". for a second, his old innocent eyes shined in the pink light your bedroom had on. sincerely, your mind was too sex-hazed to even process he was talking to you in the first place, so you just tried to focus on his face and smile. "turning around?". he motioned with his fingers a cute circle and your eyes rounded dangerously.

"back?". you pointed to the bed and then at you, voice hoarse from all the torturous moaning.

"uhum". his smile was so pure you wanted to punch him in the face, nodding his head excitingly as if he wasn't asking you to expose your cunt in the air for him.

"a-all f-fours?". you asked him again, surprised and feeling your brain all fluffy inside.

"if you don't want, that's okay". for a moment, you felt his uncommon confidence falter and you were quick to reassure him.

"no, i want to". your doe eyes held all the stars in the sky, gun-woo was sure of it.

"ok". he smiled like a kid.

"ok?". you were too stunned to form coherent sentences.

"ok?". he asked confused, waiting for you to turn around with expectant eyes and arched brows.

"ok". you nodded your head finally.

again, he grabbed your waist, pressing his pelvis to your ass as you turned around. gun-woo started attacking your nape with chaste kisses that made their way to your neck, where he left hickeys and bites. you cocked your head to the side, leaving your neck completely free for the man to make as many purple and red marks as he wanted.

quickly, gun-woo left you to search for his shorts on the floor. when he came back, he surprisingly handed the condom to you, a silent request for you to put it on him which almost made you choke.

upon receiving it, you opened the package and took your hands back, touching the boxer's length. simultaneously, gun-woo slid his hands along your curves and massaged your breasts, making you fail on the first try of putting the condom on. a low moan escaped your mouth, but you didn't stop concentrating on holding your boyfriend's cock and positioning the condom on the glans, then holding the tip and unrolling it completely to the base.

you positioned the glans between your heat and thrust it into yourself, having to bite your lower lip to contain your murmurs due to the burning sensation. gun-woo hugged your body and let himself slide in slowly, with his forehead pressed against your shoulder. you opened your mouth and a breathless groan left your mouth painfully.

"gunw-".

gun-woo's eyes opened slowly, just to enjoy the view from below, where his cock slowly came out of your hole, and seconds later, it went back inside a little faster.

"fuuck". his voice was gruff, head empty, and only the feeling of your walls gripping his member inside of you running through his mind. "fuck, princess”.

you threw your head up and brought your right hand back, tangling your fingers in his hair. your brows shaped like your entire face in a set of pained and pleasurable expressions. you felt the heat every time gun-woo entered and exited, but it also felt wonderfully good to feel his cock opening you.

"fuck you". you couldn't help but curse, vaginal canal struggling to keep his member inside as he slide out of you every time. "gun-woo, please, i c-can't". you felt your cheeks wet, confirming to both of you that you were crying over a man's cock.

gladly.

"breathe for me, princess, fuck". he stopped inside you, letting you accommodate him calmly. your moan when he pinched your clit was feral.

"big, big, big". was all you could say and the boxer started to want to laugh.

"hey, princess, you're hearing me?". you breathed deeply. “c’mon, don’t be so cock-dumbed already”.

“fuck you”. was all you could say, twitching around him like crazy.

"we can't stop if it's not what you like-".

"i swear to god, i'm going to kill you. don't stop!". you screamed. painfully.

"hey, you're too tight, jagiya. you need to breathe for me first, yeah?". gun-woo himself was struggling to contain his urge to fuck you relentlessly, but he wanted you to enjoy this as well. "fuck, you're squeezing the fuck out of me, prin-".

"i c-cant. too fucking stretched, gun-woo".

"we've done this before baby, remember? i know you can, now relax for me. i'm feeling a bump on your stomach here". he pressed the bulge and you keened, juices leaking everywhere between your legs.

“i’m so wet”. you didn’t know who you were talking to anymore if it was to him or yourself.

again, you were crying and involuntarily relaxed your lower half, turning limp in your boyfriend's arms and arching your back more making him hit a new angle.

"shit-". you moaned and he felt his member twitch because of the contraction. "that's it, that's it, good girl". he breathed deeply when he could move again, relieved to have some breathing space.

without warning, gun-woo penetrated you fast and rough, making your small body propel forward, and the only thing that kept you from falling was his firm hands on your waist.

a moan escaped your lips and the rest of them died on your throat when your eyes rolled back and gun-woo hit a new angle.

the boxer smirked. gun-woo knew perfectly well how to tease you.

he then squeezed your hips and wrapped his digits in your hair. for the next moment, he withdrew from inside you and came back again, fast and hard, eliciting moans from your drooling mouth. as much as your eager moans were constant, gun-woo continued to fuck you mercilessly, without chastity, inserting himself completely without stopping. the erotic noise of your bodies colliding became frequent, echoing throughout the room and almost moving your bed from its place multiple times.

the moans became louder and more constant, and if it weren't for the firm touch of gun-woo's hands in your hair and hips, you would certainly collapse on the mattress. a trickle of lubricant ran down between your legs, and the excess made gun-woo's cock penetrate more easily into you.

you let out a high-pitched moan, the loudest yet.

gun-woo smiled happily, almost proudly, starting to thrust in the same place, which generated a sequence of loud and tearful moans coming from you.

"fuck". he cursed once, twice, and countless times with how good your pussy felt. gun-woo was losing his mind with no restraints and overthinking.

you moaning his name was beautiful, too wonderful not to be heard and appreciated, and gun-woo wished you would call his name louder and louder so everyone would know you were his.

as much as he was yours.

"princess, you there?". he worriedly asked, sensing your lack of words and quiet whines while he fucked you.

"hmm". you couldn't speak, that was on period. it didn't matter how much you tried, your eyes were too rolled back in your head for you to make sense.

and gun-woo being the wonderful boyfriend that he was, started kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck, silently saying to you that it was okay to feel so good you turned completely non-verbal.

you bit your bottom lip and, glancing over your shoulder at the worried boxer, you threw your hips back and forward, repeating the same movement signaling you were okay.

gun-woo, on the other hand, had to tightly close his eyes and suppress a growl at your hips undulating while he was still inside. the veins on his neck, arms, and hand were surely evident while he hold his breath.

somehow, you sped up your movements, and little by little, the noise of both of your bodies colliding became louder, more frequent, hotter. you whimpered when gun-woo's glans hit your sensitive spot again, and it didn't take long for your orgasm to threaten to come.

you stopped bouncing and rolled slowly, contracting, the boxer's entire cock inside you.

"i'm cumming". you exclaimed. "can i cum? fuck, gun-woo".

he then grabbed your hair again and put the side of your face against the mattress, and in that position, you were able to see the reflection of your bodies in the wardrobe mirror. and when you thought that your pleasure could not increase, the opposite was proved when you watched gun-woo's hips investing quickly in yourself, while his face was a mixture of pleasure and lust.

your small doe eyes rolled back and your vision became more blurred, your fingers dug hard into the mattress, pulling it and squeezing it between your hands. your eyes water and you mentally asked him not to stop.

"so good". gun-woo grunted in your ear and that was your last thread, squirting everywhere your pussy reached and making a mess of gun-woo's legs. the heat you felt on your cheeks was so intense you started to feel embarrassed.

panting for air, your body couldn’t stop twitching and your muscles couldn’t stop contracting around gun-woo’s member. for a moment, your brain was only white and you were certain you were crying for fuck’s sake.

"jesus christ, what was that?". the man was marveled and lust-hazed, too surprised to notice you were almost passing out.

"baby, please". you whispered weakly, gun-woo slowing down his movements and reaching for your face.

"princess?". his tone was worried for a minute too long. "are you good?".

"squirt". you try to say, feeling your brain too hazed to work properly. "i just s-squirted".

"oh", gun-woo's face was too innocent for someone who had his cock deep inside you, in your opinion, and you hated it. "you gripped me so tight, i thought i was dying". he laughed meaningly and you glanced back at him through the mirror with horror. how could he react like that?

the next thing you know your eyes were as round as your mouth and your lungs were burning with the lack of air. you moaned uncoordinated, finding it hard to distinguish when your pussy stopped spasming and gave him room to move again.

"what do you think you're doing, gun-woo-!?". your scream was cut short by the man thrusting into you again. with full force.

your legs trembled with pleasure, and then they failed to hold themselves together. seeing that you would collapse on the bed, he laid down on top of you and held both of your closed fists, accelerating the penetration even more, which, due to the position, made you tighter.

your clit pressed against the mattress caused friction that only added to the maximum overstimulation. gun-woo took your hands to your pussy lips and made you pull the bands one on each side.

"keep it open for me please, princess?". he asked menacingly, another orgasm starting to build inside you.

"gun-woo!". this man was sick.

"cum with me this time, yeah, baby?". he whispered in your ear, face turned to your reflection in the mirror and staring right back at your eyes.

"i'm gonna cum-". you affirmed.

"c'mon baby, just a sec, will ya?".

you closed your eyes and tried to hold back, however, gun-woo continued to fuck you deliciously. couldn't hold it anymore. that was final. having your clit constantly hit and neck kissed was too much to delay your orgasm any longer.

the overstimulation was killing you.

"gun-woo, i can't".

"i'm cumming, baby". he grunted out of breath. "cum with me, princess".

and as if it were magic words, you reached your orgasm right when he closed his mouth, followed by a slick and louder moan, making your whole body tremble with the wonderful spasms. breathing was frantic, and his hands were lying at your sides. gun-woo was still fucking in search of his own orgasm.

you contracted around him, squeezing him and, consequently, increasing his pleasure, and that was the climax for the boxer, who finally came deliciously inside the condom.

he was in heaven. searching for something to hold his sanity onto.

his nonexisted sanity.

you kissed him, in an attempt to distract both of you from the thoughtless state of mind. gun-woo turned your body with one hand and collapsed on top of you just after. your yelp was soundless to the boxer, head too pleasured for not stuffing his nose on your hair and trying to compose his fucking mind.

"you there?", gun-woo's voice was muffled by your skin, body too subtle under his.

"everything burns". you admitted in a whisper, throat flaming for moaning so loud.

"i think your neighbor will have complaints tomorrow". the man on top of you smirked and nosely laughed.

"don’t laugh, it’s your fault. you're crashing me, oppa". you whined trying to pull him off of you but not being able to move one muscle.

"omo, 'm sorry". he got off of you and smiled looking at you, almost shy to see your flushed face.

you smiled weakly in return and gun-woo took the condom off of him, making a knot and throwing it on the floor, next to the bed, to throw it away later. he settled on top of your body again and leaned on his forearms, and after facing you and smiling tenderly at your disorientated state, he kissed you tenderly.

you cupped his face and returned the kiss, calm but as delicious as any other one you both had. your hands were shaking while holding his chin and the man seemed to notice. his breathing was still labored, and because of that, he stopped the kiss but continued with both of your foreheads together, noses brushing against each other and lips open.

the two of you were sweaty, you were tired.

"you were amazing, oppa". your raspy voice came in contact with his ears and gun-woo tried to hide his burning cheeks on your neck again, you stop him and stared right back into his eyes.

"really?”. you giggled and he laughed at your hazy gaze. he then started sliding the digits of his right hand by your waist. "you're the one to blame".

"i love you". gun-woo smiled widely and you followed suit, without much exaggeration.

gun-woo tilted his head down and stared at your face; rosy cheeks, closed eyes and chest rising and falling with some frequency. he smiled small and kissed your slightly sweaty forehead, starting to stroke your damp soft hair.

"thank you, princess. i love you too". he whispered drowsily. "can't believe you squirted yet".

"stop". it was your turn to feel shy.

"it was hot".

"you sex beast. i am afraid of not being capable to get up to change your bandage". gun-woo almost choked.

oh god. the bruise.

"a-ah y-yes, totally". he looked down on his side and made a face at the kneaded band-aid.

you could not see that now.

"it's okay, though. i'm okay".

"are you?", your hazy doe eyes glanced at his sirened ones and gun-woo was quick to nod his head dramatically. "'kay". you replied tiredly, eyes almost closing. "can i take a nap, oppa?".

"of course, babygirl". the boxer keened, worried about your dimmed state and praying that he'd have the time to fix your bandage before you woke up.

his high pain tolerance scared him sometimes too, but gun-woo was sure that when the adrenaline left his body, he would feel the consequences of his actions the next day.

"want to shower with me first?". he asked before seeing your eyes completely closed.

"'m tired". you murmured.

"i'll be quick, okay? you don't have to do nothing, we can use the tub", gun-woo suggests.

you surprisingly laughed, and your eyes reduced to two tiny lines. it was so admiring the unique beauty of your joy that, spontaneously, your boyfriend also smiled. it was infectious and refreshing to see your smile so huge and genuine.

"are you suggesting that you shower me like a kid, sailor?". your voice was filled with happiness and the man next to you was quick to reply.

"no, no, no, that's creepy". his brows were arched and his eyes round, you wanted to laugh because of his pure reaction. "i just wanted you to rest... to not be tired and sticky".

"okay, baby. you can take care of me".

gun-woo opened a huge smile and left your body on the bed so he could turn on the bathtub and quickly come back to you.

staring at you sprawled in your element, kim geun-woo realized that he had never been more happy in his entire life than right now.

and he didn't give a fuck if his right side was completely numb when he had you.

don't normalize arguing with your boyfriend's best friend while he is injured and horny ! that might have consequences... hope you guys enjoyed and i'm so sorry for any misspelling 🥺 (this is how sex with kim geun-woo post ep.6 would be and you cannot prove me otherwise)

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your sugar daddy hates the word ‘no,' especially when you're supposed to be thanking him nicely.

prompts. | Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + Abuse of power, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!sugar daddy!Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, smut, sugar daddy/baby relationship, power imbalance, abuse of power, face-fucking, male oral, Daddy kink, degradation, dirty talk, poor BDSM etiquette (ignoring safe word), and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

You wear the pearl necklace Ransom has gifted you and nothing else. You lay on the bed with your head on the edge, mouth wide open and ready for fucking. It’s crude, but you cannot deny the fact that your pussy is sopping wet.

Your sugar daddy strokes his cock, chuckling at how ready you are for his brutality. “Ready to give Daddy a proper ‘thank you’?” he asks, stepping closer. 

You look up at the rich man and admire his cock. Your clit throbs at the sight of it, and you squeeze your thighs together. “Yes, Daddy,” you obediently tell Ransom. He hates it when you’re a brat—especially after he has given you something out of the kindness of his heart. 

“Good girl,” he praises, placing the tip of his cock on your lips. Ransom thrusts his hips forward and makes you take all of his dick into your mouth until he’s deep in your throat. 

You garble and sputter around his cock, trying to adjust to the intrusion. He’s so big—it’s always quite the stretch for any of your muscles. Your gagging sounds fill the room, along with Ransom’s moans. 

“Fuck, yeah. Take it, you slut,” he growls, pushing and pulling his hips. You struggle to breathe through his movements, the oxygen in your body lessening with each second that passes. You’ve never done anything like this before—let alone with Ransom.

He has taught you so many things, given you so much that you always bite your tongue whenever you find yourself wanting to tell him ‘no.’ It isn’t often that you have the urge, but when you do, it dies away once he promises to shower you with lavish gifts and more money than you could ever dream of.

“Look at ya—what a fucking cock-whore,” Ransom grunts, the pace of his thrusts average, yet the power of them too much. You feel yourself becoming lightheaded, muscles weakening from your hindered breathing. It’s overwhelming, sending a panic through you. 

You reach your hands up and touch his thighs, tapping one of them twice with three fingers. It’s the sign you both agreed upon that would replace your safe word whenever you’re unable to speak. 

Ransom snarls and grabs your hands, holding them tightly. He practically uses them to brace himself and continues to fuck your mouth.

“Yeah, choke on it—choke on Daddy’s cock,” Ransom groans, your spit coating his thick dick. You can’t speak—only gagging and whimpering around your sugar daddy’s manhood. He pouts at you, admiring the fucked-out look on your face despite you being the one to make him feel good. 

Your legs kick out in an effort to fight the larger man off. Your efforts are futile, but they’re humourous to Ransom. “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that,” he coos, admiring the bulge of his cock in your throat.

“Shit, ‘M gonna come,” he eventually moans, his balls tightening as he ascends to his climax. 

You manage to regulate your breathing to some extent, inhaling and exhaling through your nose slowly while your mouth is otherwise occupied. 

“You gonna swallow it, baby? Hm?” Ransom asks, even though he already knows the answer, and so do you. 

You nod your head as best as possible, the slight friction from the action causing his hips to stutter. You just want him to get off of you. You’re struck with an idea to get Ransom to come quicker.

Like he taught you, you lave your tongue on the underside of his cock, sucking lightly. Ransom curses loudly and pushes forward once more, stilling as his cum shoots down your throat. 

You swallow it all up like a good girl, though you have no choice in doing so. Ransom groans your name and sighs deeply, giving a few shallow thrusts until he becomes overstimulated. 

When Ransom pulls out, he admires the string of saliva that stretches from your mouth to his cock. He keeps holding your hands, though there is nothing affectionate about it. You catch your breath slowly but surely. 

He squeezes your fingers, almost as if in warning. “I bet that cunt is soaking by now,” Ransom smirks.

And much to your chagrin, your sugar daddy is correct. 

[aquagirl1978]

I was wondering what makes chevalier your favourite? ☺️

Oh anon, today is your day, the day that I finally respond to this ask. Yes, I've been putting this off because well, reasons.

Chevalier has been my favorite since Day 1 - even before the game was released in EN, I saw some posts about him and already, he was the one. While his route suffers a bit from being one of the first 3 released, I think his Romantic End more than makes up for it. But it is really in his events where you see this other side of him - the human who found love - that he really shines and a lot of these reasons come from there.

He makes me cry (happy tears). Okay, I know this really isn't a reason. And I know lots of people cry at many of the routes. But I don't. So when I do, it means I really, really, really like a character. And his Romantic End reduced me to tears. His events leave me teary eyed. And even Gilbert's route god damnit made me cry 3 times - all because of Chevalier. God help me when his sequel drops in EN.

He loves you. Like, he really, really, really loves you. I think he might even love you more than you love him. Here is a man who loves you so much, he will do anything for you, like play a silly Valentine's Day game. A holiday he puts zero worth on, but because you do, it has meaning. He quietly eats all the beignets you make - they taste so good because you made them.

He is kind. He doesn't think he is kind - and most would agree with him, but you see his kindness in so many different ways. The way he warned you in his route to be wary of everyone. How he stayed away in his amnesia story when he knew it would hurt you. And there's this one scene in his sequel (Drama End) that is perhaps his ultimate act of kindness.

He is a good man. He might not be the shining ray of sunshine Leon is, and many of Chevalier's actions are, well, a bit rough? Harsh? But he doesn't have an ounce of malice - what he does, he does to protect (country, family, you). Even Leon agreed that Chevalier did the right thing on Bloodstained Roses Day. Chevalier also kills all the assassins in his route to protect his brothers. He allows himself to be the brutal beast so that his favorite brother Clavis can continue to be human.

He is awkward. You are his first for everything - his first love, his first touch, his first hug and kiss and everything else. He's learning, with you as his teacher. It's a slow progression, but worth it to see how his touch changes.

He is playful. Unless you read his events, you won't see this side of him. But he can be teasing when alone with you, sometimes he is so bad he is a bully. He likes to bite and leave marks. If you try to wake up too early, he is liable to drag you back to bed and hold you tightly.

He finds you worthy to stand next to him. To him, you are perfect.

I'm gonna end this right now before this becomes a book too late.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Well you do enough talk, my little hawk

Warnings: different forms of abuse, dad!Soldier Boy, bro!Homelander, sis!Reader, children using weapons, training lil monsters, sister complex, brother complex, these two kids have such a bleak life :(

Words: 1339

Summary: Soldier Boy would not allow either of his kids to be pussies.

🌸Did you get enough love, my little dove 🌸shall we look at the moon, my little loon

He warned you before agreeing to train you that he would not go easy because you were a girl.

"If you're gonna learn, you learn like your brother."

You vigorously nod your head.

"No bitching and crying. Got it?"

Again you nod. You're happy even if Homelander is frowning next to Soldier Boy. He was scared for you. Maybe he should have let on to how painful it was to be punched by Soldier Boy so you would understand what you were asking for. His methods weren't like Vought's. They were more brutal. Left longer lasting bruises. Homelander wanted to protect you from that. But every time Soldier Boy took Homelander out to the woods bordering your backyard, you grew lonely and jealous.

You were still young enough to keep hoping for some kind of connection with your dad. Your brother wanted you to remain soft and innocent. For twelve years he'd molded you into the perfect little girl. At the time you didn't mind. He gave you the attention Soldier Boy didn't.

One way to get more time with him, you'd noticed, was training Homelander outside. That was what gave you the idea to beg your father to train you too. You had the same powers as Homelander, it was only fair. Vought's tutelage wasn't enough for you, a child of Soldier Boy.

Unfortunately, Homelander witnessed reality dawning on you just a few minutes in. The exact moment when your eyes go wide at Soldier Boy's fist appearing in front of you in a blink of an eye.

You went flying, smashing through trunks of trees.

"You stay fucking put." Soldier Boy snaps at Homelander who twitched to go to your aid, but remains frozen. "She wanted to learn. The first thing she needs to understand is pain. And it looks like Vought hasn't been supplying her with the proper amount if she can't even take a punch."

Homelander wanted to scorch him. Turn him to ash. Guttural hatred hemorrhaged in the pit of him.

Soldier Boy yells in the direction he'd sent you flying. "C'mon! Get up!"

This is what you had asked for.

With a heavy head, you fumble to stand. It hurt to breathe through your nose and taste blood in your mouth and something rolling around against your tongue.

You spat into your hand a small tooth. Thankfully it was just a baby tooth and not one of your permanents.

Red trickles into your vision from an open cut on your brow.

You hear Soldier Boy's voice ringing but can't make out the words.

Moving any part of your body hurt, but you will yourself to move past the broken down trees that you had barreled through. Everything tilts at a nauseating angle.

It was too much.

You drop to your knees and throw up.

At least you weren't crying.

"Here, this will help." Homelander delicately places the ice pack on your face.

You're biting your bottom lip, sucking in your inhales to prevent yourself from sobbing. Your entire body hurt. And there was so much blood. Was this what Homelander had to put up with? You don't recall him ever showing up bleeding this much.

"Shit, I think you may have a concussion." He hisses after examining your eyes. Chewing on his bottom lip, he contemplates calling Vogelbaum. What if it was more than a concussion? You'd definitely require medical attention. And because you were a supe, you required special doctors.

You want to ask your brother how he survived doing those kinds of trainings four days a week. You're still reeling from the punch and unable to formulate any helpful words. The only thing you were capable of doing is closing your eyes as there's a brief break in the pain when the cold numbs your face.

"Don't fall asleep, okay? I'm going to call Dr. Vogelbaum."

Homelander dashes to the landline in the kitchen. Soldier Boy was picked up by Crimson Countess for Payback work. His truck was still parked in the driveway with its keys on a hook in the living room.

To be on the safe side, Vogelbaum insisted that he check you out himself. Homelander carefully got you into the truck and drove to Vogelbaum's estate.

"You say Ben did that?" Vogelbaum inquires once he's checked you over and settled you down on his couch.

Homelander nods. "She wanted to do the same training I was doing."

"If she was a normal person that punch would have killed her." He informs the young boy but it was something Homelander already knew. "Thank god she'll be fine. Her body is already healing at an incredible rate."

With fingers tented, he mulls over the scientist's words. "I can't protect her anymore."

Vogelbaum regards this sad boy, ignoring how his words send a pang in his chest. These kids never stood a chance. "Just remember she's made out of the same material you are. If you can survive Soldier Boy's classes, then so can your sister."

"I'm sorry I worried you." You tell Homelander later that night as both of you are preparing for bed. Already you were better than when he'd taken you to Vogelbaum's.

"I'm just happy you weren't seriously hurt." He smiles over at you but it falters when he spies the scab on your eyebrow. "Why did you want to train with dad? You have to be out of your mind to willingly do that."

Turning off the faucet knob, your other hand puts your toothbrush away. "I don't like being by myself here while you guys are out."

Homelander understands. He hated being without you.

You'd been looking at the budding tooth that was poking out of your gums. Where the baby tooth had been knocked out by Soldier Boy. Guess it didn't matter if he knocks out your adult teeth. They appeared to regenerate quickly.

You turn around to face your brother who still occupied the bathroom with you. He wears a basic light blue button up pajama set, blonde hair having been brushed back.

"I'm not quitting." You adamantly inform him when Homelander remains quiet.

Sadly, he sighs. "I know. There's no going back now."

You nod. "Yeah. Sorry I couldn't stay soft forever. I know you don't like me fighting."

That has him chuckling as he sits on the rim of the bath tub, watching as you now take your hairbrush to run through your long, dark hair. Dark hair that is so much like Soldier Boy's. Something all three of you have are the same blue eyes.

He reaches out to touch the falling tresses at your back. Soft against the pads of his fingers. "I don't like seeing you get hurt. I don't even like when Vought doctors give you shots. But you're growing up. Unfortunately I can't be your knight in shining armor."

You pout at that and place your brush back down on the counter. "Don't say that! You'll always be my knight! Now I'll just be able to protect you too."

"You want to protect me?" Funny. Homelander thought that he never needed anyone's help or protection.

Eyebrows raise. "Of course I do. I love you." You said it so earnestly that you weren't anticipating the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Homelander swipes at his eyes. "M'fine." Taking a deep breath to control himself, Homelander musters up a small smile just for you. "Lets get you to bed."

Trailing after you, Homelander is still stuck in his own head. Replaying Soldier Boy's punch. Your concussion that only lasted two hours but was still frightening to him.

He also remembers the determination in your battered little body as you stood up. His little hawk, you managed to meet Soldier Boy's gaze before puking. You said you wouldn't cry and you didn't. You weren't just talk. While you would always be his perfect little sister, Homelander believed you when you said you wanted to protect him too. Knew that with time, you would be strong enough.

Thanks for reading!

[d34dg1rl5]

Corpse Bride

It's icy in Mount Ormond. Quietly you make your way across the snowy paths and reach the ski lodge. The legions domain.

From inside the house you could hear chatter and music. Sounds like they're having a good time. Maybe you were just a nuisance to them? Yes, they were your friends and yes, they care about you. But maybe they don't always want to deal with your problems and fears.

Just as you turned around Susie spots you. "(Y/n!) What are you doing out here? Come join us!" She grabs your hand and pulls you inside. Julie waves at you and Joey greets you with a "'Sup." Frank quickly puts back on his mask crossing his arms. "You look like shit."

You sigh and sit down enjoying the warmth emerging from the furnace. "It's just been a rough trial... Nea kept stunning me with pallets and I think I'm gonna have a bruise.."

Susie looks at you with sympathy. "Aww, poor you... I know excactly what it feels like... Don't we all?" She looks at her friends and earns Julies agreement. "Yeah, some survivors really are a pain in the ass.. Especially Nea and Feng." She takes a piece of the pizza laying in front of her.

Joey agrees aswell and talks about his experiences with toxic survivors.

Something seems weird about Frank today... He isn't his usual cocky and snarky self. He gives you glances from time to time, even though you can't see his face you can feel his eyes on you.

You look at the others. "I think I'll head back to my realm... I feel ... Weird." Susie looks at you. "Aww, already? Alright then, do you want me to walk you back?" You shake your head. "Aw, no, you don't need to." Susie nods and gets up to hug you. "Alright then, see you!"

Youwalk out the lodge and sigh looking around walking back in your realm. Suddenly you get the feeling of someone following you. You turn around taking out your knife. "Who goes there!?"

"Jeez, calm down... Pussy." You hear a familiar voice say and a snarky chuckle. "You're a killer, you shouldn't be afraid of shit in here." Frank steps out from the darkness and looks at you. "What are you doing here?", tilting your head in confusion. "Walking you home I guess."

He takes out a cigarette of his pocket and lights it. Hiw does he even have that stuff in the realm? Maybe he asked the Entity for it.. He notices you eyeing the cigarette. "Want one?" Thinking about it for a second you nod.

"Yeah, gimme one." He hands you one and puts his lit cigarette to yours and lights it. "Heh." You blush slightly and try to avoid his gaze.

"You look brutal, by the way. Real sick." You look at him. "Huh?" "Your outfit. You know. Killer look. Real sick." You look down at yourself and sigh. You were some kind of zombie, just not just thinking about brains and intestines all the time. You actually were still human. To some extent at least. Your body however looks like a nightmare. Your skin was pale with deep wounds littered over your body. Your right eye was a milky white while the other eye was still intact. You hated how you looked.

"Maybe to you. I hate this body..." He sighs and puts a hand on your back. "I was always into zombies." He nudges you and you can't overhear a flirty tone in his voice.

Frank and you walk next to each ither for a few minutes in silence until you reach your realm - a church with a dark and old looking graveyard at the backside. The churchs roof is destroyed and crows circle the cross on top of it.

"I'll see you around, corpse bride~" He grins and turns to walk away, disappearing in the thick fog surrounding the church.

A/N: IM RLLY MAD CUZ YESTERDAY I WROTE HEADCANONS FOR DBD KILLERS REACTING TO A FEM!SURVIVOR WITH A PANIC ATTACK AND I UPLOADED IT AND IT WAS JUST GONE. Like i tried everything (log out and in again, refresh my page, look at queue, privacy settings, etc.). Its just gone and im so sad 😭😔

[dbnightingale24]

My Little Decoy

A StevexReaderxBucky Messy Triangle

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Another story for Patreon! So, for this one, I'm a bit anxious (when am I not?), because this definitely took off in the complete opposite direction of what I initially planned. That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!

Thank you as always to @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard, I love you to bits for literally everything you do! I was in the middle of updating three other stories when this idea came to me, so please just work with me! (I'm so sorry I'm like this.)

Anywho, here we go!

Word Count: 34,776 (I'm not even gonna apologize anymore)

Warnings: Honestly, this entire fucking story. SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Threesome, Lying, Infidelity, Emotional Cheating, Swearing, Drinking, Infertility, Family Drama, Angst, Lusting, Daddy Kink, Running Away, Tie Play, Cuff Play, Crying, Fluff, Best friends to lovers...that's all I can think of? They're honestly so many.

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Don't Look So Blue, You Should've Seen Right Thru, I'm Using You, My Little Decoy

Summary: You truly do have the best intentions when you try to move on and suppress your feelings for your best friend Steve, and try to move on with Bucky. Unfortunately, life doesn't give a damn about intentions. Neither does love.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

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You wonder how the hell it got to this point in the first place as you lay in Steve’s soft bed sheets. What feels like it should be a quiet moment of peace is juxtaposed with your current reality; Bucky pounding on the front door and you and Steve conspiring to think of some kind- any kind- of excuse.

You truly don’t understand how it got to this. 

It all feels like it started so long ago. You didn’t even know 6 years could feel so fast, much less pass so quickly. You look around at where you are now, at Steve, as you listen to the shaking of the front door against Bucky’s fist as he continues thumping away. Fuck. What if memories lie? Maybe it is that long ago.

~~

6 Years Earlier...

“Babe, you ever had a night out in the city?” Bucky asked as you took off your gear.

Training was brutal and everyone was looking for a way to relieve stress. You knew The Avengers were all planning to meet up at some club downtown, but you had other plans. 

“I have, and as much fun as it can be, I have other plans,” you laugh as you take your hair out of the tightest ponytail you’d ever had it in. 

“Oh? What are you getting into?” Natasha laughs, making her way over with Bruce holding onto her as if he’d lose her.

“My friend’s band is playing tonight. I promised her I’d go if we finished up early enough.”

“Oh, this I gotta see!” Bruce chimes in as you laugh and shake your head. “You never let us have a peak into your personal life!”

“God, I haven’t been to a show in forever,” Natasha chimes in with raised eyebrows.

He wasn’t wrong. You played everything so close to the chest; wanting to keep those you love and care for the most safe...wanting to keep yourself safe. Since none of them were relenting (not to mention they’re the damn Avengers), you finally agreed and told them to meet you outside of your room at the compound in about two hours.

“Is it too late for me to get in on this?” Steve asks just as the group was about to disperse.

“There you are!” Bucky interjects before anyone has a chance to say anything. “Y/N is giving us a peak into her personal life! We’re all meeting at her place in two hours and going from there,” he laughs patting his best friend on the back. 

Steve looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and you just laugh and nod, giving him the ‘OK’ to tag along. Unbeknownst to the others, you and Steve hung out the most. No, he’d never been privy to your personal life, but you two spent a lot of time watching movies and listening to music together on the weekends. Occasionally, Bucky would get in on the action, but it was mainly you and Steve. You and Steve had a certain level of comfort that you didn’t have with the rest of them. It was more of an unspoken, private thing and that’s how the both of you preferred it. You both understood each other, and neither of you ever made the other feel sad or out of place for things that had gone wrong in each other’s past. You both had wounds you were still healing from, and you gave each other the space needed for that to happen. 

You’d always had a thing for Steve. He kept himself at a distance, so it was difficult for you to tell if he ever felt the same. After a while, you’d stopped trying and just accepted him as a friend. He told you that he’d wanted to go back and stay with Peggy, but he was too afraid to leave Bucky on his own again, so he’d come back instead. He wasn’t even sure if Bucky would ever be okay with being alone; Steve just stayed without asking him. It seemed like the right thing to do, and he didn’t hate the current timeline too much.

Soon enough, everyone is in your small little complex, drinking and laughing as you put together the last bit of your outfit. The thought of Steve joining all of you had you more anxious than you cared to admit, so you chalked it up to the normal anxiety of inviting your work colleagues into your personal life.

Which was more than fair.

“I’m sure you look amazing, lets go! I’m too excited for this!” Natasha hollers as she makes her way into your bedroom.

“Nat!”

“Oh, they’re all in there drinking away! You’re fine,” she laughs, closing the door behind her. “Well shit!”

“I swear to God, I’ll change right now!”

“No! You look amazing!” she promised as her hands covered her mouth. “None of us have ever seen you out of work clothes, and babe...you look amazing,” she laughs in shock. 

“Should I change? I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea-”

“If you’re comfortable, who cares. No one wants to interfere with your personal life. I think we’re all more afraid of pushing you away,” she laughs.

“You really think it’s okay?”

“I mean, I think you’re hot as fuck,” she laughed as you rolled your eyes, “but I think you look amazing.”

“You sure?”

“Get enough alcohol in them , they won’t even notice when you leave for the bathroom,” she laughed.

Even though you laughed along with her, you knew better. James Buchanan Barnes kept his attention on you almost as well as Steve, but you never thought anything of it. It always had a more platonic feeling than with Steve, almost more familial.   

When you came out, Steve was the first to look at you. His mouth slightly agape was enough to make you wanna go back, but Bucky was quick to chime in-

“Someone is ready for a night out,” he laughed.

That’s all it took. 

Soon enough, you were taking shots and laughing with everyone else. Even Pepper and Tony were excited and joined you all. Your life was something so foreign to them, and you could tell that they all felt extremely excited that you trusted them enough. 

In all honesty, you felt more comfortable because Steve was there. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you, and you’d never let anything happen to him. If you were being completely honest, you’d only wanted to invite him out. How it spiraled, you’re still not sure but it did. It The only thing that felt off was letting him see you dressed as you were. It was weird for all of them to see you dressed as you were, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were in red plaid crop top, with tight fighting black jeans that hugged your hips in just the right way, and black low top heels. You put your hair in loose curls, and finished it off with eyeliner and mascara. After a brutal day of training, you really didn’t wanna spend forever doing your makeup, because you knew you’d wanna come home after everything was over and go right back to sleep. Yeah, everything was hugging your body in just the right way, but you weren’t about to change. 

You were introducing them to your life.

Before you all left, Thor filled three flasks with his mead from Asgard for himself, Steve, and Bucky and you laughed pretty damn hard.

“We wanna enjoy this night too,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes. 

The walk was easy enough, but it felt like it took forever. People kept asking for pictures with the OG Avengers, they had a million questions, and of course they were all happy to be as kind as possible. It’s not that you minded all that much, but you really missed your best friend. Work had been kicking your ass, she had been extremely busy, and was in the middle of planning her wedding. Nights off were extremely rare, but actually getting to see her and her friends perform? It had been forever.

“You made it!” she squealed once you were finally inside the club with everyone, almost knocking you over with how hard she hugged you.

“I told you I’d show! Even if I would’ve only caught the last song,” you laughed as you hugged her back just as tight. “We still on for drinks after?”

“Fuck yes! Your tits look amazing in this top, we’re definitely getting free drinks out of it,” she beamed with a wink and you burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ve seen all of you on TV, but I still wanna officially meet everyone,” she smiled at everyone. “I’m Meg.”

As everyone went around introduced themselves, you made your way to the bar, to grab your signature Jack and Coke.

“Hell yes! You made it!” Meg’s finance, Paul, beamed as he made your drink.

“Why is everyone so shocked that I’m here?!”

“You haven’t been to a show in years!”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you muttered as you reached behind the bar and grabbed his pack of cigarettes.

“You bring the Avengers with you and you dare to steal from me?” he sneered sarcastically as he handed you your drink.

You laughed as you reached across the bar and kissed his cheek, “I’m sure our friendship will survive it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Dude, I had no idea the place would be so packed tonight.”

“I have a feeling everyone here had a long ass Friday.” “Yeah, well they better treat my baby right.” “You two!”

He rolled his eyes as he flipped you off, “enjoy the show!”

“Thank you, Paaauuullll,” you sang out as everyone joined you.

You looked up to see Steve staring at you intently, and he quickly turned towards the stage when he realized he was caught. Before you could allow yourself to think on it or feel flattered, you heard your best friend yell from the stage as she started to make her guitar scream.

“We’re ‘Flowers of Cinnamon’, and thanks for spending your Friday night with us!”

From that moment on, you were barely paying attention to your surroundings. With the exception of your drink, you didn’t focus on anything other than your best friend rocking the fuck out. It had always just been a hobby for her, but she had always been so damn good at it. You envied how effortlessly performing came to her. The band was a cross between Paramore, The Bangles, and All Time Low, and they were just as amazing as you remembered. You wouldn’t have been able to stay still even if you’d wanted to. You sang and danced along to every song, bouncing around, and screaming your head off. You had no clue that Steve had been watching you with the biggest grin on his face, Bucky had been watching your chest bounce up and down, or that Tony had been recording your reaction to your best friend’s music, smiling so hard at your happiness.

Every other song, your best friend made eye contact with you and laughed, and nothing else seemed to matter. Thinking back on it, you wished it had, because maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, but you were just so damn happy. The more drinks got, the more you danced and sang around, finally feeling comfortable and happy, even with your new set of friends watching you.

“Okay, this is gonna be our last song for the night,” Meg smiled into the microphone and she laughed at amount of “boos” they received. “Listen, I wanna get fucked up too!” she joked, gaining laughs from the crowd. “Okay, so tonight is extremely special because my best friend on the entire planet is here and brought her friends with her! Thanks babe! So, our last song is gonna be a cover of one of her favorite songs ever,” she winked at you as you cocked an eyebrow.

As soon as you heard the first cord of ‘Decoy’ by Paramore hum out of the speakers, you screamed so loud that everyone in your group (and Paul) started laughing. 

‘Close your eyes and make believe that this is where you wanna be

Forgetting all the memories, try to forget love cause love’s forgotten me

Well hey, hey baby, it’s never too late

Pretty soon you won’t remember a thing

All I’ll be distant, the stars reminiscing

Your heart’s been wasted on me’

You sang along so effortlessly as you started to jump up and down.

‘You’ve never been so used as I’m using you, abusing you

My little decoy

Don’t look so blue, you should’ve seen right through

I’m using you, my little decoy

My little decoy’

You linked arms with Nat, who clearly didn’t know the song, but was more than happy to sing and dance along with you. You glanced around and it made you so happy to see everyone else happy and having a good time. It’s not like you were a stick in the mud at work but, you never let loose. Even when it came to holiday and birthday parties, you were pretty damn reserved. The only person who can claim that they’ve seen you fucked up is Steve, and even then it was just you being wine drunk on the sofa while you two listened to albums and discussed work.

No, this was you letting lose and everyone accepting it. Accepting you. You looked over at Steve and he a look of pure love and adoration in his eyes, and it made your heart swell. 

God, you wished you would’ve paid more attention to the way both he and Bucky looked at you that night, but you were just so damn happy and having so much fun.

If you could turn back time...

“Am I still okay at singing?” Meg asked once she finally made her way over to all of you.

“Dude, you’re still fucking amazing!” you beamed as you wrapped her in a tight hug and she laughed. “That was so good! Thank you for playing ‘Decoy’, almost making me cry!”

“Aha!” she teased before she looked at everyone else. “What about Earth’s mightiest heroes? Were you all able to tolerate it?”

“That was amazing,” Tony laughed, Pepper nodding in agreement.

“Why don’t you do this full time?” Nat asked as you waived Paul down and got another drink for both you and Meg.

“If I did this full time, I’d be so stressed all the damn time,” Meg laughed, “I’m much happier painting.”

“What do you paint? Do you have a studio?” Clint inquired and a smile came to your face.

Things were going better than you could have ever imagined. 

As everyone got acquainted, you snuck to have a smoke. A few moments later, a smile came to your face when you saw Steve come out after you.

“You said you’re quitting those,” he nodded towards the cigarette in your hand. 

“I stole Paul’s,” you laughed, standing a little further from him so as to not get the smoke in his face. 

“I can handle it,” he laughed as he placed his black leather jacket on you. “You’re pretty...exposed and I don’t want you getting cold.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest man?” you teased before you inhaled your cancer stick. “Who else knows about this? I’ll call the ‘New York Times’” He snickered as he shook his head, “quiet you.”

“Are you having fun tonight?”

“I am, I like you seeing like this.”

You scoffed, “crazy?” “Happy...content. Secure.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and the look he gave you along with it, had butterflies appearing in your stomach.

“We should get back inside,” you smiled at up at him as you ashed the last of your cigarette and threw it in the nearby trash bin. 

And maybe that’s when it started.

You just missed all the signs that night, because you were convinced Steve didn’t want you.

He convinced you he didn’t want you. 

When the two of you got back inside, Paul had just finished up his shift and the guys had finished helping Meg back up her equipment which she had decided to lock up in the manager’s office for the night. 

“Dancing! We need dancing!” she whined once her eyes landed on you.

“Hell yeah we do,” you laughed as you linked arms with both her and Nat.

Once again, you didn’t notice the way Bucky ogled you or the way Steve kept a close eye on you. When you all reached the next bar, you instantly ordered more drinks and pulled Nat and Meg onto the dance floor with you, still wearing Steve’s coat. He leaned against the bar, talking with Tony and Pepper, but still kept an eye on you. As Janet Jackson’s voiced filled the giant building, you danced around with the biggest smile on your face (at some point Meg had put her sunglasses on your face), smiling and waiving at Bucky when you saw his eyes glued to you.

Well, glues to your ass.

By the time everyone was ready to call it a night, you were drunk as shit.

“You’re not coming back to the compound?” Nat asked as she stumbled out after you.

“Nah, I wanna sleep in my own space tonight. It’s closer,” you giggled as you started giving out hugs.

“I can take you,” Bucky offered with a slick grin.

“I can take her, she’s on the way to my house,” Steve countered, and Meg cocked an eyebrow at you.

You just started dancing and walking. 

“Goodnight everyone! Get home safe! I love you all!”

You were drunk, tired, and in no mood to figure out whatever that was about. You just wanted to go home and get in your bed. You honestly don’t know why you didn’t go back to the compound that night, but it just felt right to go to your own home. You already spent so little time there to begin with. A few moments later, you heard the hurried footsteps of someone behind you, but you kept looking ahead.

“You’re impatient when you’re drunk,” Steve laughed as he came up beside you.

A small smile came to your face at the fact that Steve was the one to walk you home.

You giggled as you leaned into him, “my feet hurt.”

No sooner than you said it, he scooped you up.

“Steve!”

“You weigh nothing, don’t worry about it, darlin.” “It’s a 30 minute walk!” 

“I’m very well aware of where your apartment is.” “Steve-”

“Hush.”

You pouted but did as you were told, leaned into him, and took in the scent that was all his own. Something between woodsy and fresh cut grass. In your drunken state, he felt like home.

“Why didn’t you want Bucky to take me home?” you asked after a few moments, not missing the way he stiffened a bit.

“He’s a little buzzed and he gets a little handsy and flirty at times. I didn’t want him to bother you.” You giggled as you took in more of his scent, “you’re literally carrying me, Steve.” “You said your feet hurt.” “Are you a little buzzed?”

“I definitely don’t feel sober,” he chuckled softly and you softly sighed at the comfort of rumble in his chest.

“Do you wanna sleepover?”

“I’ll order a car service once I drop you off.”

“Why not order one now?”

“It was weird...everyone hanging out tonight. I feel like we haven’t hung out alone together in a while.” “Then why not sleepover?”

“Cause I should go home. I don’t wanna accidentally wake you up or something. You worked hard today and you need rest.” “So did you.” “Y/N.” “You’re so weird sometimes, Steve,” you huffed as you laced your hand with his.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand like I’ve done a million times before. What’s wrong?” “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, “alright weirdo.” “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re not being normal.”

He let out a frustrated huff, “did you have fun tonight?”

“So much fun, I’m so happy you came out.”

“I’ve missed you, darlin.” “I’ve missed you too. Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Sleepover.”

“Y/N-” “See? You are being weird. You’ve slept over my place a ton before, in my bed, and it wasn’t weird. What’s so different about tonight?”

He muttered, “so many things.” “Like what?”

“It’s just been a long night.”

“Fine, whatever. Go home, see if I give a fuck.” “Hey!”

“You’re being weird and you won’t tell me why. You know I hate when you do that shit.”

“I just think I should sleep in my own bed, darlin’. I’m not trying to be weird or make you upset.”

He sounded so strained and you couldn’t read his facial expression, so you couldn’t see how torn up he was. You couldn’t tell how much he was at war with himself.

You couldn’t tell how much he wanted you.

He chuckled when you didn’t say anything, “don’t get quiet on me now.”

“Can you at least stay until I fall asleep? It won’t take long.” “Everything okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah Steve, I just miss you,” you confessed softly. 

“We’ll do a sleepover tomorrow, alright? We’ll have it at my house.” “Fine.” “Don’t be upset.” “I don’t care.” “You’re also a giant brat when you’re drunk.” “You’re saying that you miss me, but won’t spend time with me!”

God, you sounded like a brat to your own ears. That was a huge part as to why you’d never let him see you so inebriated. It’s why you never wanted anyone from The Avengers (or S.H.I.E.L.D for that matter) to see you so drunk. It became harder for you to suppress your feelings for Steve, and he’s all you wanted when you were drunk. For reasons unknown to you (at the time), Steve wanted to go home. That should’ve been enough, but your drunk wanted to hold him all night. 

You were going out of your way to start an argument. 

He let out a heavy sigh as he reached your complex, “I’ll stay-”

“Don’t do me any fucking favors-” “Will stop arguing with me? And stop with swearing, you know I hate it.” “Well maybe I hate you.”

He scoffed hard at that, “no you don’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I do, so stop saying it. I’ll stay, okay?”

“And you’ll sleep next to me?”

“Yes darlin’, I will sleep next to you.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck and you felt his grip on you get tighter, “thank you, Steve!”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

That night, he was good to his word and slept next to you, letting use his chest as a pillow and you were asleep almost instantly. The next day, he was back to normal and you didn’t think anything of his behavior from the previous night. You had no reason to. However, from that day on, things did slowly start to change more. 

It started with Bucky coming around more, especially when Steve was with you. You couldn’t sense it, because has always been entirely too good at hiding his emotions, but he slowly became frustrated. So much that he basically stopped coming around all together. 

“Hey, are you busy?” you asked timidly as you approached his office one day.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” “Oh...okay then-”

“What’s wrong?”

“No, you’re busy and I don’t wanna take up your time...”

You could feel your eyes welling up and didn’t know why. Steve always had a way of making you so damn soft and vulnerable, and you truly hated it.

You still hate it. 

“Darlin’-” “Please stop calling me that. The guy who started calling me that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. If he does, he’s making sure to stay away from me.”

“He still exists-” “Then what’s going on? Why are you staying away from me?”

He sighed as he threw down his pen, “nothing-”

“Alright, if you’re just gonna lie to me-” “I’m not lying!”

“Steve, you saw me walking with Bucky yesterday and literally turned in the other direction and walked away.” “You guys are just hanging out a lot now and I don’t wanna third wheel-” “You wouldn’t third wheeling! We’re just friends!”

“Y/N...” “Steve, why are you just abandoning me? You’re the one I’m closest to and you know that. You’ve always known that,” you sobbed as you closed the door behind you.

“Please don’t cry-” “Then why are you abandoning me?! What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing-”

“Then what the fuck?! You’ve been acting so strange, but you’re saying I haven’t done anything! If I didn’t do anything, what the fuck is going on with you?!”

He let out another frustrated sigh and just stared at you, clearly at war with himself.

“Fuck this and fuck you, I give up,” you sobbed as you dried your eyes. 

“Darlin’”

“Stop calling me that! I’m just Y/N and you’re just Steve. I can’t do this with you anymore!”

After you stormed out, things only got worse, because you’d never felt so low and alone in your life. Unless it had to do with a mission or training, you barely even looked his way. The farther you got away from Steve, the more Bucky swooped in. In fact, the more you look at how everything happened, you realize that things wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you’d just shut things down with the both of them. 

However, it’s not as if thinking with a broken heart ever lead to a good thing. 

You cried a lot and Bucky was just there for you. He was sweet, he listened, and let you keep your secrets. Sure, he asked what happened between you and Steve (everyone was), but he dropped it when you told him you wouldn’t be talking about it.

You can’t explain what you don’t know. 

“Hey doll, we’re goin’ out tonight. You wanna come? Invite Meg!” Bucky asked one night after you let him in your apartment on the compound.

“Nah, I’ve got a hot date with a black and white French film and a few glasses of wine,” you smiled weakly.

“You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I don’t. Sometimes I go home.” “Babe-”

“I just wanna stay in, Buck,” you sighed as someone else knocked on your door. “I guess I’m just the most popular girl in the world.”

When you opened it the second time, Steve stood there looking just as upset as you felt. Instead of even trying to attempt to hear him out, a rage flared up inside you and you had to force yourself to not shove him. As far as you were concerned, he had a lot of fucking nerve to show up at your place after all the shit that happened in his office. 

“What?”

“I wanted to know if you’re coming out tonight-”

“No.”

“Well, can I come in and we can talk? I know I owe you an explanation-”

“I don’t want an explanation anymore, Steve,” you lied harshly, “I just want you to leave me alone. I stood in your office and cried like a fucking dumbass...that was a month ago. Now you wanna talk? Just leave things as they are.”

You truly wish you hadn’t spoken out of anger because none of it was true. You cried over him whenever you were alone, you missed hanging out with him, you missed falling asleep next to him...you missed Steve. Your Steve.

You’ve always been a hot head. 

“Darlin-” “What have I told you about that?” “Y/N, just give me a few minutes-”

“No, go away. Unless it has to do with work, we don’t have anything to talk about.” “You don’t mean that,” he more pleaded than told you.

“I’ve never meant it more!”

“Y/N-”

Bucky sighed as he came up behind you, “she just needs to cool off, Pal.”

If you hadn’t been so upset and hurt you would’ve laughed at how wide Steve’s eyes got.

“We’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“I thought you were coming out. It was your idea in the first damn place,” Steve snapped.

“I don’t wanna leave Y/N while she’s this upset. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but all that happened was he clenched his jaw and looked away before he stormed off, punching the wall on his way out.

You should’ve spoken to him. You should’ve gone after him. Instead you pushed past Bucky and made yourself your first glass of wine of the night.

“Babe-”

“Buck, if you’re gonna stay here tonight, please no lectures. I just wanna be upset, okay?”

He just nodded solemnly, “I get it. No lectures, just drinks and weird French movies,” he smirked and you quietly laughed. 

Here’s the thing: it’s not that you never found Bucky attractive, you just never thought about him. You were always thinking about Steve. However, at that time, thinking about Steve brought you too much pain and you didn’t want to feel anymore pain for a while. You just wanted to feel numb. You’d rather have nothing, the void, than hold onto the pain Steve’s brought on. 

You rested your legs on him when he sat next to you, not thinking anything of it. When he started stroking your leg after the third glass of wine, you still didn’t think anything of it. You only started to pick up on his actions when he squeezed your thigh a little.

“Buck?”

“Yeah doll?” “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you relax and feel better.”

“Buck-”

“I’ve never seen you this upset, babe. I just wanna help.”

The thought and the offer were tempting. You couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten off to something other than your vibrator. Of course you’d made subtle advances towards Steve, but he’d clearly turned you down. Plus, the women around the compound did talk. While Bucky had a reputation for being a skirt chaser, he also had a reputation for wearing women out in the best way.

It’s not like you were looking for anything. You just wanted to forget for awhile. 

He tested the waters a bit more by sliding his hand further up your leg, waiting to see how you’d respond. 

You placed your wine glass on the ground and opened your legs for him a bit, “you just wanna make me feel better?”

“So fuckin’ good, doll,” he husked, as he reached between your legs and easily ripped your panties off, “just lay back and enjoy, baby.”

His movements were slow, but his kisses were desperate. It felt good, but off. Not to mention you felt more guilty with every kiss he gave you, like you were betraying Steve.

‘Fuck Steve,’ you told yourself mentally, ‘he had his chance and he clearly didn’t want it.’

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to shut out any thoughts of Steve, but that only made his face come to mind. You let out a sound between a moan and a frustrated grunt as you pulled Bucky’s hair.

“Please!”

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he smirked, his hot breath lapped at your pussy.

“So fucking bad, please! Need it!”

“Love seeing you like this,” he cooed, before he dipped down and dove in and his lewd moans filled the room.

This was the moment Bucky became your “decoy”. You didn’t want him in the same way he wanted you, but part of you felt like he didn’t actually give a shit. Since he’d lost Nat to Bruce, Bucky wasn’t ever really looking for a relationship. He liked to play around, entertain a woman (or two) for a few months, then he’d move on. As far as you were concerned, that night was only supposed to be a one time thing. 

“F-fuck!” you moaned, doing your best to be in the moment as you lulled your head back while he fucked you with his tongue and massaged your clit with his thumb. “Feels so good, Buck!”

You weren’t lying completely. It’s not as if Bucky was bad at eating you out, he just wasn’t the one you wanted doing it. 

You felt him smirk against your folds, and started to grind your pussy against his face, forcing yourself to focus on all the pleasure you felt instead of everything else.

‘Steve doesn’t want you. Steve doesn’t want you. Stop thinking about Steve!’ you told yourself mentally.

When he switched up and started sucking on your clit, he easily pressed two fingers into your soaked folds. You felt the knot in your core tighten and snap.

“FUCK!” you cried out as you came hard and a few tears escaped your eyes.

You hated how the tears weren’t from pleasure, but you masked it well enough as he fucked you through your high.

“Take off that fuckin’ shirt, baby. Let me fuckin’ see you,” he husked as he took off his own shirt and started to undo his jeans. 

You were quick to do as he said, taking all of him as you ignored how uncomfortable you felt being so bare beneath him as his mouth glistened with your juices.

You were doing this to feel better, so why weren’t you feeling any better?

“Waited so fuckin’ long, baby,” he groaned as he dipped down and worshiped each of your breasts while his thumb made little circles on your clit.

“Bucky!”

“I know baby, I’m gonna take care of you, gonna take such good care of you,” he moaned before you felt his tongue on the side of your neck, licking up little beads of sweat. 

You took a deep breath and told yourself you wanted it as you felt him at your entrance. You wanted Bucky. You just needed to let yourself relax.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ tight!” he grunted as he pushed into you.

“Oh fuck!”

“I know you can take me, baby! Your wet little pussy is squeezing me so tight, baby!” “Please don’t stop,” you whimpered as you wrapped a leg around his waist, trying to hang on to him as he fucked into you hard and fast.

You wanted this. You agreed to this.

He pushed himself up with his metal arm and looked down at you adoringly, “wanted you for so long, doll. Waited for...ah fuck!”

To avoid feeling anymore guilt, you wrapped an arm around him to pull him close and kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth when you felt him fill you to the brim. He rode out both your highs before he rested his forehead against yours.

“So good, baby. You tired?” he asked, breath still coming heavy.

You just closed your eyes and shook your head no.

“Good girl.”

Bucky kept at it for a while, not feeling any real pleasure until he brought you off (which you had to fake half the time). There was nothing wrong with him. You found him attractive, and you knew that he wanted you, but it just wasn’t what you wanted. All of it felt so hollow and emotionless on your end. You felt like you were acting and Bucky was working his ass off to please you; to make matters worse, your phone kept going off and you knew who it was.

Steve would’ve hated you if he knew what you were doing and who with, but a part of you felt like he already did. When you both were done, Bucky was a gentleman. He pulled your shirt over your head, carried you to bed, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

You didn’t cry until the next day when you woke up alone in an empty apartment. You ignored calls from both Bucky and Steve, and eventually Bucky was the only one texting you.

Something in you knew that Bucky had confirmed his suspicions, and you just knew he was furious. You and Steve both knew Bucky wasn’t a bad guy, he was just a player and Steve never wanted that for you. 

Eventually you cracked and called Meg, and cried while you told her everything. 

“Well...fuck,” she muttered once you finally got everything out. “Are you sure Steve knows?”

“His calls and texts were incessant until they weren’t. He hasn’t done either in the last 3 hours.”

“Oh yeah no, he definitely fucking knows. Bucky?”

“Bucky went from every 30 minutes to every other hour.”

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” “Nothing...”

“Except?” 

“He’s not Steve.”

“Yeah, but Steve passed up on you, and he was kind of a dick about it. He waited a month until after the office situation? You’ve been showing him your available for how many years? I know you love him, but-”

“I don’t love him.”

“Yeah, cause that’s you’re crying to me about him instead of the skirt chaser that fucked your brains out?”

“Meg.”

“I’m not being insensitive, I’m being honest. Bucky was there last night, clearly wanted you, was with you all night, and all you could think about was Steve. Today, even though Bucky is still texting you, you’re more upset that Steve isn’t because you know he knows. If I were you, I’d be more worried about the guy that’s used to fucking around breaking my heart, than the guy who isn’t,” she sighed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Steve had his chance, I need to let him go. I’ve been in my room crying all day...I have to stop.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Babe, if you could end up with Steve, I’d prefer that, but that’s not really an option. Even if he came back, he gave you the run around for a bit. Just focus on you for now and what you want. You always want to make others happy, and you need to focus on you.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No, being alone is good for me right now.”

“Alright, I love you, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay.”

You let out a heavy sigh as you sobbed, “I love you,” and hung up.

You ignored Bucky for the rest of the day, feeling guilty about it, but knowing it was for the best. You’d done enough wrong and you truly did need to focus on you and what you wanted.

However, before you fell asleep, you broke down and checked all your texts from Steve.

O Captain, My Captain: Darlin, please just talk to me. I’m so sorry.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m not going out tonight, please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: Don’t do anything with Bucky. He’s my best friend, but he’s not worthy of you. He won’t treat you right and you know that.

O Captain, My Captain: Please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: If I could take back my actions, I would. I’m so sorry. If you’d just talk to me, I’d be able to make you understand.

O Captain, My Captain: Please talk to me. I miss you so much.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m going to sleep, but give me a call whenever.

O Captain, My Captain: Seriously? All night and you’re still not talking to me?

O Captain, My Captain: Baby, please just talk to me. We’ve never gone this long without talking, and I fucking hate it.

O Captain, My Captain: Y/N...please.

O Captain, My Captain: Bucky just left. You’ve made yourself loud and clear, and fine. I got it.

O Captain, My Captain: Do whatever the fuck you want.

When you woke up the following day, you had the biggest headache from crying, and the last thing you felt like doing was facing either of them. You had a job to do though, and criminals didn’t stop being criminals just because you had a broken heart. Even though you were slower to dress than usual, you were still on time for training, and God, it was brutal.

Bucky kept looking at you, Steve wouldn’t even look your way, and you couldn’t focus. You’d never had a day so bad, and all you wanted was to crawl back into bed. During the meeting after, you just leaned against the wall, barely listening to anything Nick had to say. The one time you bothered to look up, you looked over at Steve and was glaring at you. 

God, you really fucking hated yourself. 

“Doll, wait up!” Bucky called after you once the meeting was over.

You’d practically run out of the room.

“Bucky, I really just want-”

“What did I do wrong?” he breathed once he caught up to you. “Everything seemed fine on Saturday, I thought we both enjoyed it.”

You didn’t miss the way Steve quietly scoffed as he walked past the both of you.

“Bucky, I just-”

“Did I hurt you? What...I really like you, Y/N. I have for a while and I just...was I too eager?”

You honestly hadn’t expected that.

“Wait...what?”

“I never said anything, because I thought you and Steve had a thing going, but that’s clearly not happening. You were just so upset on Saturday and I wanted to make you happy, and I’ve wanted you for so long...what did I do?”

Trash. You felt like absolute trash.

“I need to get to my room.” “Y/N-”

“Just...I’ll talk to you later, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just have a lot going on in my head. I just need to be by myself for a while.”

“Please just-”

“I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m sorry.”

~~

You can read the rest here.

[ninjatrashpanda]

Season Eight Episode 1 Write-Up

Okay, so, I watched 8X01 for the fourth time now and decided to do a little write up, because why not, right?

In general, I really, really enjoyed it! Probably my favorite Season Premiere episode to date! There’s a few things I’m not too big on, but for the most part, a solid start to the season! This is long, so beware of the cut! To get into more detail:

1. Gerrard

Probably unpopular opinion, but I kinda like him? In the “Love to Hate” kind of way? I just think he’s so ridiculously over the top evil that it’s kind of funny if that makes sense? Like what do you mean his response to everything is “UnSaTiSfAcToRy; DO IT AGAIN!” What do you mean he flips his lid at Eddie over organic fruit leather while he has construction under way??? Letting them run laps around the station until Buck pukes??? “Have fun with it.”???

Compared to what he was like in Season 2, I honestly think Gerrard’s kinda fun, in his own messed up way. About the closest we get to that Gerrard is that he apparently takes credit for Buck’s ideas after reprimanding him. Even comparable actions, in particular putting his dirty boots up on the truck Hen was just cleaning in “Hen Begins” vs spitting on the floor after Chim mopped it in this episode come across as overly petty here, while in Season 2, he seemed much more malicious to me. 

We even see him have some Standardstm. He calls Buck by that nickname, actually shows concern about Buck not wearing his bee hood, and generally seems to actively try and get everyone out alive. The fact that they actively show some of his less evil qualities imo lends credit to the theory that they might give him a redemption arc. It wouldn’t be the first time someone overtly, over-the-top awful would get one. (Gloria anybody?) Do I want one? No. I don’t. I didn’t like that Gloria got one, and I’d be annoyed by Gerrard getting one. But with this show, it very much is a possibility. 

2. The Dennis Jenkins situation

Okay. So. There’s been some…minor controversy on my dash about this. I’ve seen both the take that Athena is the most evil piece of dirt for arresting Dennis, and I’ve seen people agree with Athena that he should be behind bars forever. (Both are hyperbolic, of course.)

And frankly, I think people are much too black and white about this. Yes, Dennis turning his life around and doing good for thirty years should count for something. Yes, he should still be held accountable for literally murdering somebody. Like, I don’t care that Emmet was a police officer. I don’t think that should matter in court in any way. But a life was brutally ended by Dennis’ hand. A family was torn apart. That Emmett shaped hole in Athena’s and Mrs. Washington’s hearts? That’s never gonna be fully mended, no matter how Dennis gets punished, but to just tell them that they will never get closure and are evil for expecting it? That’s not something I’ll ever support.

Ideally, Dennis’ efforts would be acknowledged in court, and he’d get a heavily reduced sentence, maybe with a chance for parole or house arrest, so he can still be with his family. Hell, I think the deal he struck with the feds to get out is perfectly fine, actually! But to say that he never should’ve gotten punished at all for doing something as horrific as murder is insane to me.

Because yes, for Dennis it was a horrible mistake. For Athena and Mrs. Washington, it was much, much more.

Oh, and because I know this is gonna come up: Yes, I think Amir would’ve been justified in reporting Bobby and how his involvement in the fire was swept under the rug. 100%. I actually think he’s a bigger man than me, because if I was in his shoes, I probably would have.

3. The Highway Call

This is our first look at the actual bees, and as a massive entomophobe, this whoooooole sequence is a huge nightmare to me. But let’s talk!

First, the poor driver who gets stung to death with nobody even giving a shit. I know it’s realistic, and that Julie and Reyla and everybody else have other things to worry about, but every time the show does something like this, I’m like “This nameless, practically faceless character had a family in-universe! He probably had a spouse and kids or siblings or parents or niblings or something that think he’s just doing a routine 22 million killer bees transport, only to later find out he was stung to death and they will never, ever see him again!”

So yeah, sometimes I think I might be overthinking the weewoo show lol.

Getting back on track, I do love the tension with Julie and Reyla! I know people have criticized Julia not closing the AC vents right away, but I actually think forgetting or just not thinking about that is, well, realistic. I assure you, I would not have thought of that either.

Similarly, them only having one EpiPen doesn’t seem like such a stretch to me either. Epi’s come in packs of two, sure, but they’re also expensive as hell and I sure couldn’t afford to casually replace one, even if I picked up the generic store brand. I assume that they picked up a two-pack, one was used previously, so one was left over.

Or maybe the writers didn’t think that much about it and just decided to only have one Epi because drama 🙂

Also, I’m not sure if you could actually get a second dose out of a cracked open EpiPen. Frankly, it sounds really dangerous to just mess with medicine like that.

I will not talk about the second driver and how he had a shit ton of bees in his throat, that image haunted me in my nightmares, thank you. “Why do I taste honey?” makes zero sense, but know what, it was a quality line anyway.

Which brings us to Buck having some random ass knowledge about beekeeping for some reason (Are we surprised? No, no we aren’t.) and saving the day by blowing smoke on the bees to calm them down. Buck is a Gud Boi and we all appreciate and love him 💖 Also, he gets to be a freaky bug boy again by becoming friends with one of the bees that can now join the tapeworm and the maggot. It was adorable.

As it stands, this whole thing was a great sequence! The action was good, the scenes in the car were tense (Even though realistically I knew the kid at the very least would be okay. This show doesn’t kill kids unless they’re Bobby’s.) and you just kinda can’t stop the triumphant smile on your face when they finally get Julie and Reyla out of the car. It’s just a really well done scene.

Also, Buck saying “It’s a bee-nado” you will always be famous 💖

4. Bobby’s new gig

So we don’t see Bobby all that much this episode, but I think that’s fine. I feel like the back half of Season Seven was very, very Bobby heavy, so being a little lighter on him in favor of other characters is a good thing, as much as he is my favorite character.

So, Technical Advisor Bobby is basically just Fire Marshal Buck and LAFD Liaison Eddie all over again. It’s a new job that doesn’t fulfill him, and he’s miserable, and he wants back. Outside of the actor guy very clearly wanting to get into Bobby’s pants, I honestly can’t really say anything else yet about this? IDK, we really just got two establishing scenes for that storyline, not really anything of substance yet.

5. Han-Wilson Family Scene

I love it. I love that they all have dinner together. HenMaddie hug save me, save me HenMaddie hug.

Also, uh, sorry not sorry, I understand why people are upset by the HP reference, but like…it makes sense why they picked it. Harry Potter is still a highly recognizable and popular brand with both adults and kids, never mind the multimedia aspect of it. Books, illustrated versions of them, movies, video games…I’m surprised there aren’t graphic novels, honestly. Name dropping it has no GA member scratching their heads wondering what it is the way, say, The Hunger Games would. Additionally, as much as it sucks, a lot of people don’t know that Rowling is awful. Like, genuinely, I don’t know anybody irl who knows what a witch (no pun intended) that woman is.

Also, 9-1-1 referencing Harry Potter literally just one day before Maggie Smith passed away is…uh…

But with that tangent out of the way, the conflict between Hen and Chim (and maybe Karen and Maddie) is set up very well! Both Chim’s comment earlier that he has two kids to come home to, as well as sharing the HP obsession with Mara shows us that he’s getting too attached, and Hen notices it too. I’m genuinely curious how that plays out because I honestly can’t see the two of them actually fight in any way. The closest we got was Hen randomly deciding that she doesn’t want Maddie and Chim to get married (which was weird, like wtf was that about???) in Season Six. I’m looking forward to how this is gonna play out!

6. The Birthday Party: Tevan

I have a lot to say about the Eddie and Chris of it all, so let’s focus on Themtm first.

So, when Lou posted his trailer door four hours before the premiere, I, like many of us, cheered and yelled and scratched at the walls. I was elated, I was ecstatic and I couldn’t wait to see his beautiful face on my screen.

And behold, when I did see him, I cheered and yelled and scratched at the walls again. It’s my (and Buck’s and all of our’s really) Emotional Support Tommy. My Emotional Support Tommy is back with me and I can finally be happy again! I’m not gonna lie, there were a few times during hiatus when the bestie boos almost got to me, but pretty much always bounced back fast. There was no way he wouldn’t be here. I still, as mentioned before, cheered and yelled and scratched at the walls.

So, not only are Theytm back, they’re also adorable and cute and fluffy and I want them to be happy forever and ever. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a vision in a cone” has single handedly cured my depression. The fact that Buck was absolutely leaning in for a kiss right after has me giddy. The way they’re in each other’s personal space like that!

Also, background Tommy with the balloon he fails to blow up and later with the cupcakes (Why did he get them? Why does Tommy seem to always have cake???) was just *Chef’s kiss*!

7. The Birthday Party: Diaz Family Drama (courtesy of Edmundo, make no mistake!)

Okay. So. Right off the bat, if you’re one of the crazy people who think Eddie is the poor widdle victim here and that Chris is a brat or should get over himself, signal me so I can block you or better, just block me yourself. There is no universe where Chris is in the wrong for not wanting to be around Eddie. Not when Eddie has traumatized him several times over.

To recap: Eddie has abandoned Chris twice when he was just a baby. Yes, Chris doesn’t remember it directly, but we know from the Season Seven Premiere that he’s getting old enough to recontextualize the things in his past. He stopped romanticizing Shannon and saw her leaving as the abandonment that it was. He found it in himself to forgive her after reading her letter, but he knows that she did abandon him, and he probably at least theorizes that it had to do with his CP.

Knowing this, it’s easy to extrapolate that he might have some thoughts about Eddie being in the army, too. Not as strongly maybe because after coming back the second time, Eddie stayed behind and never left again, but I’m absolutely sure that knowing he was diagnosed when he was around two and knowing that Eddie left for his second tour around the same time makes the gears in his head turn.

Next up, the careless way Eddie handles his relationships with Ana and Marisol. He throws himself into both relationships without abandon and seemingly introduces Chris to them right away, which is…uh, not the best thing to do? More so with Ana when Chris wasn’t even ten yet, but still very much so with Marisol later. 

Eddie encourages Chris to grow close to them, because of his misguided attempt at giving him a mother (which is problematic on its own), watches him get attached and then breaks off the relationship (with Ana) or cheats (on Marisol). Eddie shows no regard to how this affects Chris, and it directly influences him into thinking that women always leave. 

It also seems that Eddie never tries working through the shooting with Chris. Which actually makes sense, because Eddie doesn’t work through the shooting himself. This of course results in Chris realizing that his dead isn’t immortal and could, in fact, die at any moment, resulting in him going haywire during Christmas in Season Five.

And then we’re at the really big enchilada. Eddie brings a woman that looks like an exact copy of Christopher’s dead mother into their house, has a quick roleplaying session with her, and then either embraces or kisses her, the show itself seems to not know what it wants to go with. Chris literally thinks she’s his mom for a second! And for the record, Eddie didn’t apologize to Chris. Not out loud on screen, there’s no mention that he did, etc.

So, Christopher Diaz, 13, a teenager, decides to call his grandparents and asks them if he can live with them. Which, yes, is fair. I wouldn’t want to be around Eddie either. Like, wtf, why would I after that??? If you think Chris should be forced to stay in that house, then you don’t care about him, period. Staying there was not an option, and neither was Buck’s place. Buck came in and immediately made excuses for Eddie instead of acknowledging that Chris was hurting and that Eddie was at fault. Sorry not sorry, but both of them failed Christopher in this situation.

And apparently surprisingly for some people, Ramon and Helena didn’t. They picked up the phone at 2am, jumped on a plane instantly, respected that Christopher asked them not to call Eddie, and generally did the right thing: Prioritize the traumatized child, not the parent who caused this whole mess in the first place.

Yes, Chris moving to Texas for the time being was valid and the right choice, because that’s what Chris wanted. I know this fandom refuses to acknowledge (is too ableist to acknowledge?) that Chris is not a seven-year-old little kid anymore, but a growing teen (He presumably started high school this year!) who has his own life, his own thoughts and opinions, and who can make his own choices.

So, coming back to 8X01, the video call. No, Chris is not a brat for rolling his eyes (which he may not even have done in the first place, it might have been his CP), he’s not a little meany pants for not talking to the father who fucked him up who seemingly isn’t making an effort in fixing himself yet, and he isn’t obligated to spend his birthday with someone he doesn’t want to speak with.

Eddie is not a bad father. He isn't. But he screwed up royaly here, and it's on him to fix this.

Christopher Diaz is valid. And that’s the end of it.

Moving on to Helena, she is, in fact, doing everything right. She makes sure Chris has a social life, she shows that she knows his interests and encourages them (pool club, thinking about getting a pool for themselves), and clearly attempts to keep up communication between Chris and Eddie. I frankly don’t see the malice people claim is there. Helena is nothing but a wonderful grandmother in this episode. Even her not moving the laptop closer to the party is actually very much a good thing, because once again, Christopher does not want his father there! No, Eddie doesn’t get to override Chris because he feels bad. Shut the fuck up.

I’m looking forward to how this storyline moves along, and I hope they keep the conflict as Chris centric as it is now. If they actually make Chris apologize at the end, I will scream. Just…good God, this is all Eddie’s fault, don’t mess it up, Tim!

8. Perfume Party

So the general stupidity of everyone involved aside (a perfume party when you know there’s a super swarm of bees on the loose??? You don’t see or hear that the tent is covered in them???), this is really fun! I like that Tori isn’t a horrible boss and that she actually really cares about Sheila! We don’t really see that often on this show lol.

I love that they included that bit about the bees staying over water if you dive in. Like, bees aren’t aggressive by nature (normal bees at least…), but boy do they hold a grudge!

Once again, Buck shows that he can think on his feet with the perfume trick, which might set him up to maybe become lieutenant later this season? I think it’s too early for him to do captain, but I think lieutenant makes a lot of sense imo.

Eddie running from the bees was comedy gold, which everyone has already said (also wtf was the trailer doing trying to use that face with the more dramatic tone?)

All in all, a great, fun scene with nice interactions. Gerrard calling Buck “Buck” and showing concern over him not wearing his bee hood was a surprising showing of depth from him.

9. Athena and Dennis

I’m torn between simping for Athena being a badass and banging my head against the table because she’s abusing her power again. Like, putting that guy in the trunk? Badass? Yes. An abuse of power? Yes.

Also, is it just me or is this kinda like the cartel storyline all over again? idk

The rest of what we get from Athena for the rest of the episode is just set up for the next one, so, uh, honestly not much to say here? I think?

10. What the fuck just happened?

So, I've no real life experiences with the kind of dissociation Buck seems to go through here, but @asraindarkness wrote a super interesting bit about him hearing Eddie's voice in particular here. I really recommend reading through it.

Which leads us to Buck saving Gerrard (or not) from that sawblade. Which...yeah, was pretty cool. Idk, I don't know what to say here, I'm just curious how this leads to the two of them playing golf lmao.

Aaaand that's kind of it. It's a great beginning to the Season, like I said before, and I'm genuinely curious to where this all leads. If you actually read through all this, thank you for experiencing my crazy ramblings lmao.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Back again to respond to the question of why Delta was allowed to rock Killer's shit:

Color had probably been hurt during one of Killer's lash outs. Fairly badly, too. Delta and Epic stepped in very quickly to remove Color from the situation (much to his protest). They both began to use physical healing and magic healing.

Now, how it works when Delta needs to ask permission to beat the shit out of someone. Usually Color and Epic have to reach a consensus of yes or no (the verdict is usually no, to Delta's disappointment). But in this stage, where one is unable to give direct answer, the other will make the direct decision.

So, seeing Color so hurt, Delta is literally burning up with rage. And he asks the question; where did Killer go and can I kill him.

Epic doesn't even hesitate. Bro straight up answers; kill his ass.

Color, unfortunately, has to use blue magic on Delta before he can leave and has to talk him out of murder. He also tries to talk Delta out of fighting, but it's far too late for that.

So, taking what he can, he agrees to not kill - but he never said anything about intense physical harm to the point where Killer would be close to death.

After Color had healed significantly through magic, Epic went to go do damage control and make sure Delta didn't actually kill Killer.

I’m gonna cheer Delta on, popcorn in my lap and everything. Killer is pretty when hes bloody and bruised and on the brink of death.

Although..I suppose it depends on what stage killer is in when delta (and eventually epic) find him. Would it even be a fight at all? would killer attempt to rather brutally and cruelly taunt and tease delta (stage 2), have absolutely no clue what’s happening other than feeling threatened and cornered and instinctively lashing out at the perceived threats and to run away (stage 3)..

or. is it stage 1. would he just lie there and let delta kill him if hes not caught in a flashback. hed definitely thinks hed deserve it. especially if his mind (Chara) manages to convince him that he’s somehow killed color.

I guess it depends on the extract circumstances from killers pov that caused him to lash out, but either way someone needs to beat him bloody and blue. especially if he was just lashing out because color—gods forbid—tried to be kind to him. Hallelujah.

(a fight is probably exactly what killer was itching for in this case.)

[gabessquishytum]

Okay what about dom/sub dreamling where hob is an athlete and dream is his coach.

Maybe it’s a solo sport like figure skating tennis or running but dream takes hob’s training very very seriously.

When he is first hired hob is kind of a hot shot and a brat who doesn’t want to listen but dream gets him in hand very quickly.

And hob responds very well to Dream’s methods. It isn’t long before Dream is in full control of hob’s meals, his clothing, his company—everything.

Hob is told to break up with his girlfriend and he does it without being told twice.

Dream forces vibrating toys into his arse before he trains, meaning hob is performing better than ever. When hob loses, he is spanked and edged in punishment…and when hob wins, he finally gets Dream’s fingers and tongue in his hole. But no matter how much he begs, Dream isn’t going to fuck him until he makes it to nationals. Hob has to earn his cock.

Love this, LOVE sports au. Definitely one of my favourite things. Since tennis is the thing I know about, we’re gonna go with that.

So maybe Hob won a grand slam really early in his career (he was like 17) and then immediately crashed down for a few years because it all got too much for him. He ends up with his new coach and he’s actually not even sure if he wants to do this anymore. Of course, Dream immediately reminds him exactly how lucky he is to have such talent and how he’s going to be a great player if he just does what Dream tells him. Hob reluctantly agrees.

Within a few months, he’s improving and winning matches. Mostly because Dream trains him brutally. He’s constantly coming up with new physical torture. Plugs, nipple clamps, even sounding toys. After a while it’s a relief to just play without having some kind of device doing weird things to his body. He breezes through competitions and crawls back up the rankings.

He still has his moments. He smashes a racket during a frustrating match which he goes on to lose. He gets penalised by the umpire, then Dream smacks his arse absolutely raw in the showers where anyone could walk in. At the press conference he’s much more humble (and squirming on his sore bottom).

The payoff is that Dream takes very good care of Hob. He has the best meal plans, the best sponsorship deals, hell, Dream even does most of his massages even though he has a full team for that. Dream pampers and spoils Hob whenever he’s on a winning streak, and he’s always so full of praise whenever he sees Hob working hard.

Still, Hob hasn’t been allowed to take his dick yet. He promised Dream in a moment of hubris that he could win at Wimbledon this year, and Dream is holding him to that promise. So god help him, he’d better work hard. He couldn’t care less about the trophy, but he’s seen Dream’s cock plenty of times and he WANTS it. He’d bend over in front of 100,000 people on centre court if Dream asked him to.

It all depends on him winning though. So he’d better keep practicing with that extra large vibrator in his hole. Dream is just about to turn up the settings…

[eowynstwin]

same anon who sent the ask abt price: MW3's writing was embarrassing tbh. i agree 100% that narratively, its the most logical and sensible for price to be the one who takes the fall. what you wrote i flat out completely agree with, and its deeply disappointing that we are stuck with an extremely poorly written and rushed story. the game was a hot steamy pile. everyone was slightly out of character, they all growled their lines like mad dogs, and the missions were ass. i cant believe no one talks about the mission where you get anti arab hate crimed. what was that??? what was the reason??? (the only thing i liked about that game were the 9 minutes of nikolai. i just find him entertaining.) i was replaying mw2019 while super high and got to the mission where you threaten the butchers wife and son and just thought to myself; that lady and that kid are gonna have nightmares about price for the rest of their lives. that room is going to come back to them again and again and again. they literally did nothing wrong except the crime of being the butchers family. what price and gaz did is never going to leave them, and gaz was right to question price on that. of course, the game doesn't care at all. they're disposable NPCS for a shock value scene. i dunno, the fact that the game doesn't really give a fuck, and seemingly even condones what happened, just kinda hit different and i had to put the game down for the evening. i guess that hit at that moment bc i had also read a fic a bit earlier where the reader was price's civvy gf and gets kidnapped by his enemies. it bent my brain a bit bc, the thing in the fic is literally a canon event perpetuated by price, portrayed as a good thing by the source material, that now price is the victim of. it was a very weird feeling for my weed addled brain to try and process. think i blue screened actually. i wanna put price in a jar and shake him vigorously. pin him to a board like a entomology insect. i want to bite him. i do love him i swear. but maybe make him actually face a single real consequence for his war crimes? (disappointing that it will never happen on screen bc these games are all gas no breaks outright propaganda. not to mention real war crimes are happening constantly in front of everyone's eyes and going completely unpunished) sorry this is really long, i have no one to talk to abt these games and i dont understand my feelings toward that British man

Yeah. The thing about Price is that he's not a good person in the slightest. We write fiction about the kind of man he can be--the best version of himself, a version we can all stomach--but the real Price is distinct from that, and the best people in this fandom recognize that.

Soap and Ghost have some plausible deniability simply because we haven't seen them doing anything other than action movie stuff. Gaz is on the road to becoming Price--Price is doing his damndest to turn Gaz into himself--but he isn't there yet. (@391780 did a GREAT analysis of the driving scene in mw19 and how Price subtly manipulates Gaz, but I can't find it.)

EDIT: Early kindly provided.

We, as the audience, are not actually supposed to worry that much about the Butcher's family, because Price is one of the Good Guys who would never let something Bad actually happen. Infinity Ward does not take the Butcher's family seriously, and does not want us to take the family seriously, because they are just a convenient vehicle with which to move the plot along. Their presence is, in the end, shock value. We are meant to stare, wide-eyed, wondering is Price really going to go that far? while in the back of our minds knowing of course he's not, because he's our hero. He's just doing whatever it takes. The family is not meant to be anything other than fodder for Price's characterization.

Same with Samara. We are not supposed to care all that much about her, personally--we're supposed to marvel over Makarov's canny brutality, his bRiLLiANcE in recognizing the obvious fact that an Arab woman would make a perfect scapegoat for a plane bombing. Samara does not matter to MW3. Only the shocking way she dies. None of these Arab characters matter to Call of Duty--only the entertainment value of their pain.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I am reminded of when Price threw a man restrained into a bomb jacket off a balcony, with not a shred of remorse afterword. I'm forced to ask the question--who would Price scapegoat, then, if he felt justified enough?

And yeah, he's never going to suffer the consequences of his actions, because Infinity Ward doesn't think he's actually done anything wrong. We throw the word propaganda around a lot without actually defining it, but Price is emblematic of how the propaganda of Call of Duty works. Price does something reprehensible, and is shown to be justified in doing it--implying that real men like him are justified, too, because don't you understand how little choice Price had? Don't you get that there's no good choice to be made? This is how he has to act, and this is how all soldiers have to act, because war is a dirty business, and someone needs to be willing to do it for the benefit of the ignorant public.

The question of why any of this should be happening at all is never asked.