#Buzz Compass
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Who TF decided that the His Dark Materials (Golden Compass) books were for kids/young adults?
I attempted to read them when I was the "target" age for them and it was the first time I ever remember tapping out on a book because it was above my reading comprehension (I regularly read books that were 2-3 years ahead of my "reading level" and was generally up for a challenge so that should tell you how much of I struggled). I gave up partway through the second book, The Subtle Knife, and didn't touch them again until this year.
And, boy, am I glad I waited! There is so much to this series that would have just been totally lost on me as a kid. The way it explores theology and morality would have gone right over my head. Even now with a bachelor's degree in English literature under my belt the depth to these books astounds me.
Every chapter of the Amber Spyglass opens with a quote from Milton's Paradise Lost, or one of William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience, or some other theologian or philosopher or outright Bible verses. Every chapter. In a series that was regularly promoted to 10 year olds. Yes, kids can be pretty smart and I hate when adult authors talk down to them, but what 10 year old is reading Paradise Lost?
I'm not saying you need a degree to understand this stuff, but you would have to have read a lot of foundational texts to get the full depths of the references. I also ended up leaning a lot on the religious study courses I've taken (and theological education from growing up Catholic) to identify specific religious theories/schools of thought which was just fascinating. Religious groups HATE these books! They're extremely critical of organized religion and Christian beliefs especially as they are canonized by the Catholic and Anglican churches. It's a three-book fiction trilogy exploring and arguing against Milton's interpretation of original sin.
So why was this series labelled as YA? Simple, the protagonists are kids; they're 12 years old.
Why did Pullman write about 12 year olds if the series wasn't meant for them? Because the biggest theme of the story is sin and children are considered innocent. Lyra and Will are coming of age and transitioning from childhood innocence to adulthood and its accompanying consciousness/self awareness that allows us to be held responsible for sinning.
Anyway here's an entry to the literal Wikipedia page for the series that I think sums it up:
Although His Dark Materials has been marketed as young adult fiction, and the central characters are children, Pullman wrote with no target audience in mind.
#This has been buzzing in my head for weeks since I finished the series#This is not as well written as it could be its basically just a first draft but hey this is my Tumblr blog not a published journal#his dark materials#philip pullman#The golden compass#the subtle knife#the amber spyglass#Not trying to tag spam I just legitimately mention all three books and want to categorize them accordingly for my blog#Even tho idk if I've ever reblohhed any HDM stuff here before having never finished the series until now#Religion#Theology#Christianity#Original sin
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hella idk what to send to you for aftg im either bored or annoyed and I don't wanna just say bad things about it 😭 like that's just rude and yall obviously like it I DONT WANNA BE SOME DEBBY DOWNER MDMWKEM
I looked at the anti aftg tag too to see if I could intermingle there and last I checked it was a mix of fans obsessed with the series and haters being just a tad harsh imo, so i couldn't even do that RIP. I'm so lonesome in what is maybe a whole group of people gaslighting me 😔👊
honestly ive said this before and i always have to tread a very fine line with it because this isn't me saying it's OKAY or like. promotable. but i do think to an extent that aftg's problematicness is actually an aspect of what draws people in a lot. like the characters and their reactions to things feel real for who they are, what they've been through and the environments they were raised in if that makes sense? and then you go in the anti-aftg tag and it's just again and again 'they said THIS thing and acted THIS way in response to THIS scenario and it was PROBLEMATIC' and like. yeah. outside of the internet bubble you're in people do actually do that. like that behaviour exists. it IS problematic, well done. you pointed at a wall and called it a wall. but like? in real life people - PARTICULARLY deprived, traumatised people that typically don't ever get therapy or community or someone telling them why something is bad - DO act this way. ive said half of my love for andrew is literally just because he took an awful backstory and let it make him a complete cunt and ive NEVER seen a character do it as shamelessly as him before. and yeah there's the argument for how it's never resolved in the book where nora ties it with a bow and points at the bad behaviour so the readers can go 'see, this is wrong' and we all clap, but idk it just for me feels that when people point at the aftg characters and go problematic! problematic! problematic! it's like they're missing the point a bit.
the point being? that we need to be putting WAY more heat on the author. i really dislike her and a lot of her writing choices and her insistance of using slurs that aren't hers to reclaim and just because it happened to make the characters feel just that bit more authentic i can still acknowledge that she CLEARLY wrote it without characterisation in mind and just added all that problematic shit anyway. like i never get why there's so little focus on nora's writing decisions and thousands of posts just fucking CRUCIFYING the characters themselves and 'let's explain in detail why this behaviour is Morally Reprehensible and they should be Locked Up Forever'. like if u want to focus on the characters so bad and pretend they're the sole reason why aftg is Problematic and Bad then why is it so hard to acknowledge that someone raised the way they were might have some misinformed, ignorant beliefs. idk lol
#but i do also think im prone to viewing these characters as TOO real and i understand there's a line to be drawn between media and reality#like at what point does 'life imitates art' become just a genuinely shit piece of media#and at the end of the day im fully aware which end of the spectrum aftg is on LMAO but this is my 2 cents#like ive met so many people that have said absolutely heinous things that the internet would eat them alive for#like homophobic sexist shit you name it they've said it and it IS problematic and uncomfortable to listen to#but i also know that while teenagers online that would call them problematic were busy claiming some new fucking buzz word to throw around#those people were actively just fucking trying to survive. like they weren't learning about why misogyny is bad#because they were fucking addicted to drugs or living through poverty or some shit like they had BIGGER PROBLEMS#like not everyone got the education or life experiences you got and while it's valid to assume someone saying horrible things#is horrible themselves there's also the times it's just genuinely a misinformed ignorant person#like they'll say 'problematic' things and i'll point out why it's bad and they'll literally go 'oh i never thought of that.' that's it!!!#like i have this childhood friend whose life has been an absolute circus start to finish like COMPLETE instability i wont even get into it#low and behold she had NO ONE educating her about things and one time i had to explain to her why having abortion rights was important#bc she just out of nowhere said she was against abortions. and i initially was outraged and disappointed that this came from her#but i didn't patronise her or shout i just explained my angle on why i think they're good and she was on side immediately#cause she always had bigger problems than researching ethics and no one to guide her so she just absorbed the first opinion she came across#and in a small town from a working class family that opinion is typically not the nice woke answer the internet demands#and with aftg particularly andrew bc he's the one who gets a lot of slack for being violent and generally unreasonable#you have someone who has literally not had someone treat him kindly a single time in his life and each new person is a genuine safety threa#like the average person just does not have to deal with that! ofc they have more time to decide their political and moral compass!#and that's so relevant to real life! popularity for the monarchy is highest amongst the working class! the people voted for brexit! trump!#the lower classes and marginalised simply do not have the resources that higher classes do#and someone fighting for survival is not going to be reading twitter threads on cancel culture in their spare time#so many issues in the world can be eased so much quicker by kindness and patient non-patronising education#than just. pointing and calling 'problematic' at anything remotely uncomfortable#idk where this came from its 2am i should go to bed and instead im ranting not even about aftg anmore this is completely it's own thing now#i feel like i worded this badly too im gonna wake up to anons in the morning accusing me of like. condoning spiking#also gloomy i am SO sorry you are the true victim of this i went ENTIRELY off piste on this one please ignore this 😭#ask
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[edit: this is accidentally a net zero information post my apologies, except that the colour symbolism referenced below is still incredibly cool and possibly still fits]
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the 'bad thing on the left, good thing on the right' symbolism is such an ingrained thing in the western cultural consciousness that it's done without really thinking about it, to the point where I cannot remember a quinn-and-companion artwork that doesn't do that (with quinn as the sinister one, obviously), and yet
in the last dam job, except when they're sitting around the table planning with the team (when they meet in kyiv, when they encounter and leave dubenich, when they shake hands and walk away at the end), it's always quinn on the right and eliot on the left.
and that's interesting. because eliot is grappling with a big messy ethical quandry (do I kill this guy so my friend & leader doesn't have to, do I fall back on old awful habits so at least it's me doing it) basically the entire time. we see eliot in his don't-mess-with-me-I'm-eliot-spencer hitter getup and he never changes out of that red shirt*, he runs right at someone firing a gun at him and tells him the gun is what makes it fair-
(*it has been pointed out to me that it's a different red shirt, which is very cool on the colour symbolism front)
he is, the entire time, closer to the darker side of the eliot we know very well by the end of season four. and quinn is… quinn we met as a fast-hitting curly-haired bastard and are becoming familiar with again as someone eliot trusted enough to hire, a decent ally at least when he's paid to be. he banters. he threatens. he does the work.
he offers to kill dubenich for eliot with none of the angst eliot's dealing with, apparently none of the weight on his soul, and we all collectively went hm, amoral bastard, with less in the way of shadows in his heart than eliot has.
maybe it's a stretch to say this symbolism is partly why but I am delighted it ties in well.
#quinn is friend-coded even in the left/right symbolism in this essay I will (and apparently have-)#like I have toyed before with the idea that ethically eliot is. worse off? than quinn? because he knew what was bad and he did it anyway#whereas quinn is on some level. wrong. broken. no compass so less weight to his actions.#still capable of such terrible things but with a different purpose & experience behind it.#and I LOVE that the symbolism matches up with this. eliot sinister quinn good they just have to deal with it. <3#(except when they're around the team because THEN eliot's a friend and teammate and quinn's a stranger on par with chaos)#HI BRAIN BUZZING ABOUT THIS VERY MUCH ACTUALLY#very normal day I rolled out of bed post-nap to do a quick post about symbolism and oops#LIKE because I genuinely just posted about this I think it still Makes Sense that quinn's often put on the left in artworks#the last dam job is a specific situation where eliot's working through a specific thing and we see him nearly kill a guy. you know?#to say he's especially morally grubby in that episode would be an understatement. and quinn really is so well-behaved.#nice besuited hitter for hire does as he's asked and doesn't have any extra fun on the job (unless you count joking with eliot)#it Makes Sense that when incorporating quinn in a more permanent fashion the rules would change.
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#you can put whatever you want in this but it's my daily mood if anything happens but specifically *buzz in love valour compassion scene*#profiting from Jason Alexander's ass
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The Murder Buzz
what a murder buzz I'm on this morning. It's the best one yet.
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MW2 Reaction To You Panty-Flashing Them
Warnings: Implied Smut, Mean! MW2, Dominant! MW2, Victim/Reader Blaming, Slut-Shaming, Reader Getting Pimped Out, Mention of a Leash, Allusions to Injury, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
Ghost
Ghost is a territorial man. So seeing you flash not only him but Johnny as well made something in him simmer.
It wasn’t rage, for this little accident, regardless of how intentional it was, was not your fault. If he had to place it, he’d attribute it to…
Lust.
As was evident in how he excused himself from the gathering of the 141 and Los Vaqueros in your living room, grabbing you by your arm.
He stowed you away. Dragged you to a desolate laundry room and gripped you by your thighs. You gasped, gripped onto him. Felt something hard rub against you.
Ghost threw you atop the washing machine and gave you a harsh stare as he watched you try to fight the feeling building within from the machine’s buzzing and shuffling.
“Go on then, Doll,” he rasps, eyes hard and the throbbing monster between his legs harder. He palmed himself. Remorse was not in his nature. And neither was mercy.
“Seein’ as you were practically beggin’ the others to fuck you, go and put on a show.”
His voice lowered. He stood between your legs, frame blocking you from any form of help or salvation.
“Just for me.”
König
König had been sat on your sofa, an action figure in a house for a doll half his size, and you’d bent over to retrieve something from beneath the TV cabinet.
The fact that you were wearing a pair of König’s shorts was already clouding his moral compass. Seeing your underwear peeking out beneath them was what sent him over the edge.
As you remained bent, cheek pressed to the floor as you reached for what you’d lost, you didn’t hear König approach. Didn’t know he’d even moved from the sofa until something thick and hard was pressed to the back of you, followed by two heavy hands holding you at the waist, and a slow, shuttering breath.
“Don’t move,” König told you. “Stay like this.”
Slowly, he pressed deeper into you. You could feel his restraint unwinding second by second.
It was when he bent over you, had his broad chest pressed to your back, that you knew you weren’t escaping. And you weren’t backing down.
“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you cum, bleed or pass out.” König’s voice held no humour, but you could feel the franticity building in it.
He reached round, gripped your chin. Made you look at him. His smile was sharp, his features dark.
“Whichever comes first.”
Soap
Johnny pulled the leash tighter around your throat when you tried to protest your innocence. Tried to make him see reason.
“Doesn’t matter that it was ‘just an accident’.” He mimicked you, made you sound weak, whiny. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the leash.
His shadow loomed over you from your position on the bed, on your hands and knees while Johnny presided over you with an iron fist.
Tears obscured his silhouette. Made your eyes glassy.
“Aww, Did I upset you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s tone held a gruffness that didn’t even try to hide the anger running beneath.
He huffed, a mocking laugh.
“How’d’ya think I felt when you were practically spreading your legs for Simon?”
Again, you tried to tell him what really happened. Tried to incur any fragment of mercy Soap would spare you.
He pulled on the leash again. Tighter. You gasped, hands flying up to the leather around your neck, trying to loosen it – to plead for Johnny’s favour – as the air was knocked out of you.
“Oh no, you don’t get to talk.” He said. He stepped to you. The bulge in his jeans became ever more noticeable. Impending.
“M’gonna use you like the whore you are ‘til my cum’s leaking out of every hole in your body.”
Valeria
“Do I look like I fucking care, Darling?” Valeria circled you, her belt wrapped around her hand, a glint of darkness in her eye.
Wrists and ankles duct-taped to the chair, you could do little to follow her. To understand her intentions.
“Do you really think whatever little lie you pass off as an excuse can quell the fire you’ve set?”
Before you could attest your innocence, beg for forgiveness, Valeria’s belt came down across your thighs. Crying out, you flinched, tried to withdraw, pushing your chair back in the process.
Valeria lunged forward and gripped the chair by the arms, pressing your skin into the wood, and dragged you back.
Her face twisted into a visceral snarl, the portrait of evil.
“Please, Valeria, I’m begging you–”
“Oh, you’ll beg for me, alright.” Valeria looked down at you, her face to yours. Just shy of your noses touching. With bared teeth, she smiled.
“I won’t stop until you do.”
Price
“If you wanted attention that badly, you could’ve just asked.”
Price had your arms and legs bound to a hard, wooden chair while a thick ream of cloth had your mouth gagged. He stood over you, arms crossed over his front, a glint in his eye. He sighed, brought his hands to grip your tied forearms. Pressed them into the armrests.
You winced.
“What…possessed you to go and show your arse to Alejandro and the rest of the team?” His voice reflected a tone of ponderment found only in Sarcasm’s extended family tree. And it showed with the faux confusion written in his brow.
“Do I just not cut it for you?” He leaned in. The chair creaked. Your arms hurt. He didn’t let up.
“Am I not enough to keep you from throwing yourself at the nearest soldier?”
He watched you, his stare narrow. You shook your head, eyes wide. You tried speaking through the gag, tried to tell him that he was the only man you loved, but you both knew your efforts were futile.
He withdrew, gripped his belt, adopted his default stance. He heaved a deep breath.
“Come in, lads,” he called behind him, not taking his gaze off you. Your stomach tightened.
A thin smile stretched across Price's lips as he watched your eyes widen, your gaze following Simon, Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro as they filtered into the room.
Price bowed at the waist, lowered his voice so only you could hear.
“Seeing as you’re so keen to show ‘em what’s under your clothes, I’m gonna let them use you ‘til you’ve learnt your lesson.”
Horangi
Hong-Jin popped the top button of his jeans, keeping his gaze trained on you, spearing you with a dark stare.
“Did you enjoy giving König and I a little show, Dear?”
Sarcasm nestled in his tone, a viper in a den. But the excitement running parallel beneath it, just shy of its transparent underbelly, was evident.
Hong-Jin slid the zip of his jeans down. Pulled the denim over his hips.
“It’s only fair that I…” He took your hand, placed it at the hem of his underwear. Dipped beneath the band.
His skin was scorching. Something pulsated beneath your fingers.
The implication sat heavy in his tone. In his eyes.
“Return the favour.”
Alejandro
“I didn’t know I was dating such an attention-seeking whore.”
Alejandro’s voice was the roll of thunder across a darkened valley, the weight of a downpour of knives settled into his tone.
Hands behind his back, he stood over you, having resigned you to sitting on your knees, the hardwood floor pushing against your joints.
“Luckily for you, I’m not the type to hold grudges.” A smile played at his lips. One you knew not to trust.
“But he is.”
Alejandro looked to the door, where, from beyond its frame, emerged Rudy. His face held a similar, serpentine pallor, his lips drawn up into a thin smile. Venom in his veins.
“Wasn’t expecting to get blue-balled by (Y/N) earlier, Ale,” came Rudy, his usually sugared demeanour having dropped, the veil between what he was and what he showed to the world slipping away. Retreating.
Alejandro gave him a knowing look. He turned back to you.
“Why don’t you be a good little doll and put your face to the floor. Just like we practised.”
The memory of leashes, lashings and tears flooded your memory. You held back a wanton whimper.
Alejandro’s voice dropped. “And let Rudy see the rest of what you promised him.”
Rodolfo
“I don’t want to have to do this, Cariño. Rudy stood over you, his hands on your shoulders and his face dark. Grim.
His hold on your shoulders tightened.
“But I can’t let your behaviour go…”
He searched your eyes for the right word. His brow furrowed when he found it.
“Unchecked.”
He sighed. Pushed down on your shoulders.
“Come on, Angel. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He told you, pushing harder until you bent to his will.
Now, on your knees, you could see how desperately he needed you.
One hand came to your jaw, thumb trailing to your lip, pulling your mouth open. The other slid down to his belt, sliding it from the buckle. It hissed, pulled tight against the metal. You swallowed.
Rudy’s breath shuttered, and you could tell from the way his hand clenched, the way he slipped the belt from his jeans like a snake, that he was enjoying this. Much more than he wanted to let on.
“Now remember, mi Amor, no teeth, no biting.” His head tilted. Condescending. “Or I’ll bite you back.”
Graves
He can barely contain himself.
It was only the briefest of flashes. It wasn’t even intentional. But something about your shy smile after the fact once you realised what you’d done sent a vicious little idea to Graves’s head.
He starts stealing all your underwear. Gradually, yet in large enough volumes that he doesn’t have to wait longer than he can handle without his reward.
One day, you come into his office, face warm and tugging an oversized shirt over the top of your thighs.
“Missing something, Darlin’?” Graves drawls. Your eyes narrow at him. You know he’s had something to do with your underwear’s disappearing act.
He puts his papers down, sighs, and rests the back of his head in his hands against the backrest of his chair.
“How about you flash me again. Slowly, now.” His eyes glint with a dark mischief and want.
“Y’don’t wanna know what happens if you don't do it the way I like it.”
Gaz
“Oh, Darling, look what you’ve done,” Gaz’s voice carried despite the thickening tension in the room. Neither of you needed to look down to see what he was referring to.
Despite the chastising tone in his voice, his eyes were warm. Kind, almost.
“If you wanted my attention so badly, you only had to ask.”
He stepped towards you, placing a hand under your jaw. He smiled.
“It’s only fair that I reward you for being so creative, isn’t it ?”
His other hand came to your shoulder, pushing the strap of your tank top until it fell, leaving the sweeping juncture between your neck and shoulder exposed.
Has bit back a shuttering breath.
Despite his gentile voice, an angeline choir, the soundtrack of mercy, there lay a hunger in his eyes, in his barely-restrained grip, that suggested a beast lurked beneath his pretty boy exterior.
And you knew from the way he told you to “Get on the bed – be good for me,” that you’d be seeing it tonight.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
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#mw2 smut#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#konig x reader#konig smut#ghost x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price smut#ghost smut#soap x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#valeria garza x reader#kyle gaz garrick#rodolfo parra#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod
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Collaborated with amazing writer @alexcors and illustrated her fanfic about Damian Wayne. You can read it bellow! 💚
〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️
– Concussion, multiple beatings, fracture of the collarbone, two ribs and the radius of the right arm, with multiple fragments. Do you have anything to say to that, Robin?
– This dealer raised his hand himself, covering his worthless face. What?
– You beat the suspect to a pulp! Batman barked at his son. – No patrols until Cantelli is transferred from the intensive care unit to the general ward.
– But…
– That's all.
Damian clenched his teeth, but at the last moment decided not to fight with his father over a small dealer. Cantelli wasn't worth it. And therefore, having drowned himself, the boy just fell asleep.
***
The morning began with the usual five o'clock wake-up, a workout with pruning the squalid park art that Damian disapproved of in his garden. And he was already tired of explaining to Pennyworth that the enemy could be hiding behind large figures! Then a walk with Titus on a leash, Alfred the cat on his shoulder (because the mustachioed one did not want to wake up in any way) and a red-haired squeaking lump in his hands.
The kitten was dragged by a Red Hood a couple of days ago, startling Damian at first by pronouncing his full name without hesitation (few people in the family could pronounce Hafid ibn Ksufash Dami al Ghul even from the third time), and then by an attack of compassion for the animal. However, the boy quickly recovered from the shock, named the red kitten Roy Harper and now did not miss the opportunity to tease brother with the phrase "You gave me your accomplice, Todd."
By eight in the morning, Damian had time to check on the bat cow, comb Goliath, lose the nimble red Harper and find him sleeping peacefully in the cowshed. In general, Batman's heir successfully redid all his affairs, even phoned each Teen Titan individually and gave valuable instructions. On little things like different time zones, young Wayne habitually waved his hand, and everyone also grabbed a moral slap on the back of the head for trying to be indignant:
– Do it, Beast!
– Buzz me here again, Bug!
– The aliens were not given a word.
– Witch!
Damian belatedly realized that arguing with Raven was not worth it, because the importance of portals to any part of the world is difficult to overestimate. Fortunately, he knew about the weakness of every member of his team, and in Raven's case, it was sweets. Especially his sweets, with honey and spicy notes, which the girl fell in love with from the first bite. He will have to share again… She's definitely a witch!
At nine o'clock sharp, Pennyworth served breakfast, with tea in fine china, brown sugar, a slice of lemon and... an envelope?
- You have received an invitation, Master Damian.
- It's not interesting, - the boy muttered, finished with the meal and dryly told him not to disturb him. He was going to decide the fate of the world here, and they came with some kind of invitations!
However, the plan to destroy all (crossed out) almost all people did not come to mind, but the world itself lay perfectly on paper with watercolor paints, fortunately the view from the window was conducive to this. Up to a certain point.
– Todd!
- Hello to you too, Gremlin, - the Red Hood replied, climbing into his brother's bedroom through the window, while unsuccessfully clinging to the tulle with the toe of his boot.
- Pennyworth will bury you for this.
– Yes, yes, and will plant roses from above. Not that I mind much, but that's not the point right now. Get ready to go out.
Damian took a deep breath and unleashed his entire supply of Arabic obscenities on his brother, knowing full well that Jason would understand him. Unfortunately, the pressure of the negativity did not take him back out the window, he had to take up a katana.
– Put the skewer down, shorty, the meat has just been sent to marinate.
– Will you leave on your own or will you be thrown out in parts?!
– Shut up and listen to me, - Todd barked, casually showing off his pistols with the safety off. – In short, Alfie organizes a family get-together, with meat and without a fight. Dad promised to be, I'll bring a replacement, the Gotham crime storm in a thong will come running himself. You got the simplest thing – to lift your little ass off the chair and walk to the place. You can take the menagerie with you.
- I'm not going to any gatherings with my father," Damian muttered, but he put away his saber. – So you can get out and report your failed mission. I'm not leaving my room today, basically!
- No questions,– Jason agreed surprisingly easily. - But if you walk out the door, you're going to hang out with everyone, okay?
– Tt.
–That's settled,– Jason grinned, ducked out the window and disappeared.
Damian managed to exhale with relief, when suddenly something buzzing flew over the windowsill. Titus reacted first, barking loudly at the wasp's nest rolling on the floor!
- You're dead, Todd! - Damian yelled, unceremoniously grabbing the cat and rushing out the door with him and the dog.
***
- No corpses,– Grayson repeated calmly but firmly (for the fifth time!).
- I'll beat him up so that no Lazarus Pit will help, - the boy grumbled into the phone, the call to which stopped him from righteous revenge.
– Alfred said it clearly, without a fight. Let's get together with the whole family, have a nice time, have a delicious meal.
– Tt.
– We have chosen a picturesque place by the lake, you will like it.
–Okay, - the Batman heir finally gave up. – But only because painting was part of my plans today.
– It's wonderful, – judging by the sound, Dick broke into his trademark smile. – You will draw a beautiful landscape.
– I'll paint it! Artists paint with paints, you idiot.
– And I love you, little brother.
– Tt.
Author: @alexcors
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Slides in with a bucky request!
Can you do a possoves bucky? Like someone flirts with her and that leads to an argument that leads to to feelings coming out with marking dirty talk and rough sex? Pretty please
Always Watching // Bucky x Fem!Reader
Requested by: hey bestie, thanks for the request!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, possessive behaviour, obsession, jealousy, threats of violence, enemies to lovers, pining, unwanted attention, flirting, sexual harassment, arguing, rough kissing, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, light dom/sub, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), size kink
Words: 6.3k
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The word used to describe your relationship with Bucky Barnes was ‘strained’. Strained because you’d prefer it if it were at least adequate, and no one could fault you for the attempts made at becoming his friend and helping him with the transition from the Winter Soldier to a member of the Avengers. In truth, you’d tried more than most to help him, especially as he was still at risk of being compromised and shifting back to the assassin’s mindset. You prided yourself on your compassion and empathy, always providing physical and mental support to Bucky, asking how he was, helping him move into the Avengers tower and adjust to going on missions.
Except, somewhere along the way, it had become evident that from at least Bucky’s perspective, you were a person to keep at arm’s length. Your questions would be ignored, and your attempts to help in medical situations would be pushed away. The only responses you’d receive were belittling comments or fierce glares that would have you backing away from the man and shutting your mouth. Even when you kept to yourself, his eyes always seemed to follow you around the room, eyes burning with what you assumed to be hatred, like he was plotting all the ways to eradicate you.
For some unknown reason, Bucky Barnes seemed to hate you, and you had no idea what you’d done to offend him. The other Avengers and agents you called your friends had all implored that he didn’t hate you, but when you stated the experience you’d received from the long-haired man, there was no response but an awkward close-lipped smile and shrug of the shoulders.
This treatment had been going on for months now, avoidance, glare and comments under his breath, and you were slowly getting to the end of your rope. Even earlier in the day, he somehow managed to get under your skin with only one sentence.
“Are you really going out in that dress?”
At first, you’d been embarrassed and somewhat mortified by his comment, wishing to cover up the beautiful dress that Natasha had helped you to pick that emphasised your body shape and the perfect colour to compliment your skin tone. Soon, the embarrassment changed to anger, finding the comment rude and unnecessary. Who was he to say what it was that you wore? Especially tonight, everyone had returned from a difficult mission and decided it was about time the team let their hair down and went to a nightclub for drinks.
Other than the comment, the rest of your night was amazing. You were feeling a light buzz from the alcohol and danced so much that your calves were beginning to burn from standing in the heels borrowed from Natasha. Even as you became lost in the music and masses of people squeezed into the club, you were still hyper-aware of the man watching you from where he was leaning against the wall.
“Does he even blink?” you shouted, attempting to be over the pounding bass to the red-haired woman you were dancing with.
Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, glancing over her shoulder a second later to assess the man who seemed to be staring at you constantly. Bucky didn’t even have the gall to look away in embarrassment, having been caught staring and that only made Nat’s smile widen as she turned back to you with a twinkle now in her eyes.
“You know why he’s staring”, she says matter of factly, swaying her hips as she talks into your ear.
Your eyes roll so hard that you have a momentary headache. “He does not have a crush on me. Can you please stop saying that? The man clearly hates me! I feel like my skin is burning from his stare, like he wishes me to combust spontaneously.”
After the tight-lipped smiles from your friends, they would often tease that maybe he was being so mean and hateful because he had a crush on you. You’d laughed initially, and some small part of you was hopeful that this was the case, but the more he belittled, embarrassed and ignored you, the more evident that was not the case.
“Maybe he’s just admiring the dress that I know he loves”, Natasha shouts confidently, grabbing your hand and twirling you around in an attempt to show off your outfit.
Despite her ridiculous statement, you laughed, “Well, he has an interesting way of admiring it! I’m going to go and get another drink. Do you need one?”
Natasha shook her head and held up her beer bottle, which was still over half full. Giving her one last smile, you made your way through the sweaty, head bobbing with the music until you finally found a free area at the bar, which was busy enough that you knew it would be a while before being served.
Someone pressed against your arm as a new person also had similar ideas to you, leaning on the bar and trying to get the staff’s attention with a click of his fingers. You took a deep breath to try and refrain from rolling your eyes at the arrogance of the man next to you, who was leaning on his forearm on the bar side.
“What are you having?” he shouted confidently with a grin, and it took you a good minute to realise he was talking to you.
“Oh, no, it’s ok. I’m getting my own drink; I’m sure it won’t take long”, you politely decline, turning your body away from him for a moment, hoping to catch the eye of the bar staff so you didn’t have to stay there any more with the guy next to you.
“Nonsense, pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying your own drink. Come on, let me buy you a drink. I’m Chad, by the way”, he responds whilst sticking his hand out for you to shake. You stare at the hand before shaking it with a limp wrist, wanting to show that you aren’t enthusiastic about the conversation.
“Nice to meet you, Chad. I appreciate the offer, but I’m really fine buying my drink”. You pull your hand out of his grasp and try to take a step away, but there are so many people at the bar that there’s nowhere to go. Chad only moved closer, ignoring your discomfort as he leaned his face towards yours.
“Don’t be like that, Baby, it’s just a drink. Your dress is beautiful, by the way, it really makes your…eyes pop” As he spoke, he was not looking at your eyes as you crossed your arms to cover your chest. “Are you here alone? Maybe we can grab a drink and go somewhere beautiful; I’d love to get to know you on a more personal level”, Chad asked, lifting his fingers to stroke the apples of your cheeks.
“She’s not alone, and get your fucking hands off of her”, came an aggressive voice from behind as a warm chest brushed against your back.
Bucky pushed against Chad’s shoulder, giving him enough space to stand between the two of you, so now you’re staring at his back as he protectively became a shield for you.
“Hey man, what the fuck’s your problem! Who do you think you are, touching me like that?!” Chad shouted loudly enough that others began to turn and stare at the scene.
You could feel the thickness of the atmosphere, and there was nothing more you wanted to do than de-escalate the situation, not wanting Bucky to get into any further trouble as he was already being watched like a hawk by Shield.
“Bucky, please stop; everyone's staring!” you tried to pull on his arm, but he stayed completely still, ignoring you as he stared daggers at Chad.
The man looked between you and Bucky before settling on you and pointing at Bucky, “Is this guy bothering you? Listen, asshole, she clearly doesn’t want to be with you; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been out here buying her own drink, now would she? Why don’t you get lost so the pretty girl and I can get back to getting to know each other?” Chad smirked cockily.
This only made Bucky tense further, his posture straightening as he took a threatening step forward, and Chad flinched. Bucky’s gloved hands clenched at his side as you quickly did a visual check to see if he had any weapons, but you couldn’t see any in the suit jacket and jeans; you were sure he probably had them hidden up his sleeve.
Bucky took another step forward, nostrils flaring as anger radiated off of him in waves of heat, and genuine fear pooled in your stomach with how the situation escalated as you tried to push him away from Chad.
“If you ever touch her again, I promise you, I will fucking ruin your life. No, you know what, scratch that. If you so much as look at what’s mine again, there’s nowhere on this planet that you can hide; I will find you and end anything you find precious, including your life. Do you understand me?” Bucky asked, his tone surprisingly calm for promising such life-ending threats.
“What's going on here?” another voice joined the conversation as Steve and Tony appeared at your side, pushing the growing crowds back to give everyone space. You would have been thankful for their arrival had you not been staring open-mouthed up at Bucky. Not only was he threatening to kill someone for you, but you didn’t miss the possessiveness in his words and actions, and the biggest question screaming in your mind right now was what he meant by saying ‘what’s his’. Surely he didn’t mean you? Everything was becoming far more complicated than you’d anticipated.
“Is he compromised?” Tony asked in a hushed tone to you as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, prepared to pull you away from the scene if needed.
Bucky’s eyes snapped to the hand on your arm, the glare moving to Tony’s face as the billionaire changed his stance to one like he was preparing for a fight. Your heart nearly stopped, everything becoming too overwhelming and escalating to a level that no one would be coming down from if it wasn’t stopped soon.
“No! Tony, he’s not compromised; he’s fine. There was just a misunderstanding-”
“A misunderstanding? Is that really what you are calling this situation?” Bucky demands, staring down at you whilst moving out of reach of Steve’s outreached hand.
“Bucky-” you try to reason with him, but you notice that his eyes have gone in the direction Chad seemed to disappear from. He was moving before you could even stop him, following wherever the guy had escaped. Quickly looking up at the confused Tony and Steve, you tried to reassure them whilst beginning to follow after Bucky. “Everything is fine! I’m just going to make sure he’s ok”.
You mostly needed answers than anything, feeling completely and utterly sober now and not wishing to return to the dance floor. As well as making sure that Bucky wasn’t going through with any of his threats.
You were going from being within a stuffy nightclub full of alcohol and dancing people with not enough room to move and music so loud that your voice had to strain to be able to be heard by others. To now, you’re rushing out of the entrance, out into the open air that was considerably colder, added to the fact that the heavens had opened and the rain was pouring enough that it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.
Any sane person would have turned right back around and reentered the club just to have some cover, but your adrenaline was pumping, and after a few seconds outside, you were already drenched, so there was no point trying to find the jacket you’d left in the cloakroom.
You follow in the direction Bucky had stormed off, trying to weave through the people running through the rain and past the busy New York traffic. “Bucky!” You called out for him while wrapping your arms around your chest, trying to keep some of the warmth you’d found in the club, but the more you were out in the open, the more the rain wholly soaked your body, drawing the freezing temperatures into your bones.
You stare at his back as he continues to walk with a purpose; you aren’t even sure if he’s following Chad anymore or just needs some air. You try your hardest to keep up, even with the struggle of the slippy wet floor and your ridiculous choice of heels burning your calves enough that you contemplated risking the sanity of the bottom of your feet by taking them off.
“Please, just wait, Bucky!” you shout to the man in front, who, of course, doesn’t slow down. You were at your wit's end, cold and drenched from the rain, confused by Bucky’s reaction in the club, not just from Chad but also the look from Tony grabbing your arm. There was clearly something more going on, and him running away, potentially on the warpath, was only making your anxiety increase to the point of wanting to scream.
Distracted with your rolling emotions, you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer following anyone as the street in front of you only had the occasional couple walking past with umbrellas over their heads.
You’d somehow lost Bucky.
“Shit!” you curse to the sky, letting the rain pour down over your face, unsure of what to do. You could return to the club, but you were now much closer to the tower than you were to the club and at least back at the tower, you could use Jarvis to assist with trying to track and find Bucky.
Before you could follow through with your decision, a gloved hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you quickly into an alleyway that had some shelter above your head, protecting you from the rain. Just as your mouth opened to scream and combat training reflexes moved to punch whoever had grabbed you, the movements were halted as you became face-to-face with a very pissed-off Bucky Barnes.
All air rushed from your lungs as you were forcefully pushed up against a wall as Bucky leaned his metal arm beside your head, leaning over you. Even though his blue eyes were burning with more intensity than you’d ever seen before, you still sighed in relief that he hadn’t rushed off somewhere, but now you just had to deal with the confrontation you were hoping for.
“Go back to the party”, he demands in a voice so low that you almost coward from him. Still, instead, you held your ground, pushing off the wall, expecting him to move back in a show of confidence, but he remained hovering close enough that it only meant that there were a few inches between your faces.
In the shadows of the alleyway, he looked threatening, especially with his bulky silhouette, but for some reason, he looked somewhat like a fallen angel. The fierceness in his swirling ocean blue eyes that devoured you completely, the height and strength that was trained through every single inch of muscle throughout his body, even his shoulder-length hair left unbound and dripping from the rain, gave him a mysterious look. It was nearly enough to distract you from the events that had taken place. Nearly.
“What? No! I’m not going back to the party. What even happened back there?”, you demanded, trying to remain as confident as you’d felt when leaving the club and not letting the adrenaline altogether go from your system.
Bucky looks away, towards the end of the alleyway in thought before finally muttering, “It was nothing”.
You scoff, “It wasn’t nothing! You threatened to kill the guy in there, Bucky! And what was all that with Tony? I saw the look you gave him! Oh, and what did you mean by touching what was his?”
To your shock, Bucky smirked, but his gaze was so vibrant when he turned back to look at you that, on instinct, you took the step back again to press against the wall. “I told you not to wear that stupid dress,” he says under his breath, like he is telling you a well-kept secret but is forcing himself to say the words.
You frown, your chest restricting, making it difficult to breathe. “The dress? Why do you hate this dress so much, I can wear whatever the fuck I want, Bucky! Stop trying to change the subject! Everything you do is so confusing. For months, you've acted like me even breathing in the same room as you is an inconvenience and then you’re threatening some asshole guy at the bar and protecting me? What’s that about?”
“Because I knew I’d have to be fighting off dickheads like him all night! That’s why I have an issue with the dress. When men like him take one look at you and assume that they have any right to even talk to you, let alone any of the other fucked up shit he was hoping to get from you”.
His outburst shocked you to the core, leaving you stunned and fumbling to think of any words. “I…I don’t understand where this is all coming from. Wait, aside from Chad, no one is allowed to talk to me? Who do you think you are to decide something like this? Maybe I want a cute guy to buy me a drink!”
“You’re naive if you think guys will only want to buy you a drink and nothing more”.
Your face heats uncontrollably at his words, hating the condescension lacing his words. “Don’t talk to me like that! Maybe that’s just what I want anyway. Someone nice to buy me a drink and treat me with kindness that clearly you won’t give me! So how dare you try to dictate my life by saying what I wear means you’ll have to be my knight in shining armour! You don’t have to do anything for me, these past few months have clearly shown you don’t give a shit about me so why care so much what people do to me?”
“You don’t understand”, he seeths through gritted teeth.
You want to scream in frustration from the lack of answers, letting all the energy form in your arms and hands as you pushed on his chest, needing some space between both of your bodies, but he was built of stone as he didn’t move at all.
“Then explain!” you shout in frustration, the heat and adrenaline returning to your veins. “Because I’m losing my fucking mind right now! Why do you act like you hate me one minute and save me another whilst acting like you have any sort of say as to what I wear and who touches or looks at me?”
“Because he touched what’s mine!” Bucky bellows, his face dropping close to yours as a vein bulges on his temple. “Call it jealousy, call is possessive, I don’t fucking care. Do you know how hard it is to see you in the line of fire at work and then come out to places like this and watch every guy and woman in this place have their eyes all over your body, wishing that they could have you? And then watching that asshole Chad come and talk to you, giving you those compliments and then having the nerve to touch you? He was a dead man walking”.
Your mouth opens and closes, feeling like you are having an out-of-body experience. “But… but you hate me”, you say, sounding as defeated as you felt.
Bucky scoffs again with less anger this time, the tone of his voice calming slightly as he leans closer, crowding you in his warmth. “I don’t have you, sweetheart, but I’m so fucked up in here”, he points to his head, “I can’t risk being near you”.
“Bucky-”
“Just go back to the party. I’ll call you a cab; just don’t follow me.”.
A lump forms in your throat. There’s no way you’re leaving him to go back to the club, and just as you’re about to tell him that, he’s suddenly dipping his head and cheek against yours so that he can whisper into your ear. “Just know that even though I’m not there, I’ll know if someone is looking at you. Your body is for my eyes only, so if anyone approaches, they’re dead”.
The breath hitches in your throat as your fingers clench, and you remember that they’re still resting on Bucky’s chest as you grip his shirt tightly. The warmth against your face retreats as he attempts to move back, and it is out of instinct that you glance towards his lips. You’ve never experienced anyone becoming possessive over you before. It should have had you running in the opposite direction, but your feet remained planted in that same spot, leaning towards the protective force in front of you.
Bucky then surprises you as you watch his frowning lips shift into a knowing smirk, laughing under his breath which causes a pulse of attraction through your cunt. “Oh Doll, you’re going to need to stop looking at me like that; otherwise, you won’t be returning to that party”.
A surge of confidence rocks through your core as your gaze burns into his intricate, beautiful eyes, “What if I don’t want to go back to the party?”.
You try not to jump away from the gloved hand, now cupping your jaw, tilting your face up towards the covering, shading you both from the continuing thrashing rain. The warmth of his breath skips over your exposed throat as he runs his nose along your skin, causing a shiver to rush down your spine. “You don’t mean that?” his tone had deepened and sounded increasingly strained, as if he was somehow holding himself back.
You weren’t entirely sure what was happening and how everything had changed to such a degree. All you were 100% certain about was that there was no way you would be going back to any party without Bucky.
“I mean it more than you could ever know”, you say with a rush of breath, finding it difficult to hold back the restraint to continue looking up entirely at his mercy simply.
Bucky contemplates your words as his nose drifts lower, and your heartbeat thumps hard in your chest. You are sure that you’ve felt the delicate kiss of his lips against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “I think you like it when I show you who you belong to”, Bucky states with arrogance and sultry need that equally has your knees weakening.
The pure desire pooling in your underwear was becoming impossible to ignore, like a flame had been lit within your body and was slowly devouring your rational thoughts. A weak moan escapes your lips as your eyes drift close.
“Bucky…” you trail off, beginning to tremble, not from the low temperatures or being soaked through from the rain, but because your arousal had hit you so deeply that he consumed all thoughts.
“Yes?” Bucky asks as he laughs throatily at how you were so easy to succumb to his advances.
“Just fucking kiss me already!”
The pleasure and pain that enveloped your body was something that you’d crave and dream about for months to come. Pain because his lips pushing into yours with such force that your body was pushed back against the brick wall, but the overwhelming pleasure from finally feeling his mouth on yours, the hand gripping your jaw moving to the back of your head to cradle it with gentleness that you were surprised he as even capable of. The urgency didn’t end there, even as you finally received what you both had truly wanted for all of this time. You needed more of him, all of him, every single inch of his body you wanted to feel without the barrier of his clothes.
Bucky’s nose pushed into your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, both of your mouths opening to allow your tongues to dance and caress one another. You moaned, tasting the mint on his tongue and something that was so uniquely him your mind momentarily lost any coherent thought.
His massive body was pressed against yours so that you were consumed by him completely. Which also meant that you could feel the hardness of his arousal rutting into your stomach as he gently rolled his hips to try and relieve some pent-up frustration.
You were ready to give him everything, right there, in a random alleyway in rainy New York, where anyone could stumble upon the two of you. Thankfully, Bucky still could hold onto some restraint as he put some distance between you.
“As much as I’d love to fuck you in front of everyone, I have the sneaky suspicion that Fury would not be pleased if a member of the Avengers were caught having a quickie out in public”.
In any other situation, you probably would have laughed at the absurdity and realisation as to just how far gone you’d become to actually be ready to lift your dress and let him fuck you. However, you were so caught up in the fact that this was happening and hearing the beautiful man in front of you say that he wanted to fuck you in a public setting only added to the deep desire from his possessive tendency to increase.
Bucky pressed a chastising kiss to your temple as he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulders to then wrap it around yours, and you could have moaned at the warmth and mouthwatering scent of his cologne surrounding you. The man you thought hated you didn’t give you any time to lose your senses as he grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the alleyway and back into the startling freezing rain.
As the Avengers tower was only a couple blocks away, it was easier for the two of you to run in the rain, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, using his big build to shield you somehow from the wetness, but you were already soaked.
Finally, once in the safety of the private elevator that was only used for residents of the tower, you both were once more consumed with each other. His jacket was pushed to the floor so he could run his gloved hands over your shoulders and back to cradle your face.
Your back was against the elevator wall as he crowded around you, trying to taste every possible area of your mouth. Your leg lifted, hooking around his hips and causing your dress to hitch further up your thigh until it rested around your waist, pulling him closer.
In this position, he was able to thrust his tented jeans against your panties, the rough material catching your clit and causing an obscene moan to echo around the small space. His lips left yours but only so that he could kiss down the side of your neck, causing more mewls and pathetic squeaks to leave your parted mouth.
“I want the whole world to know you’re mine”, he declares as his teeth scrap against the area where your shoulder and neck meet. The same part of you that was throbbing for his possessive tendencies needed him to do whatever he was alluding to. To persuade him to continue, you ran your fingers up his firm chest, scratching up his throat and to the nape of his neck so that you were able to grab a handful of his hair and tug him even closer.
However, arriving at the Avengers’ living quarters interrupted the two of you. Without missing a beat, Bucky's hands lowered to your thighs, picking you up so that your legs were now wrapped around his waist as he supported your weight with his hands on your arse.
Your fingers remained in his hair, pulling his face back to your neck as he began to suck on different areas, marking your skin with darkening, wet patches. The tiny reasoning voice at the back of your mind was warning you that you’d regret those marks tomorrow, but with the want and need to have his lips and teeth all over your body, you couldn’t care less if he was marking you.
Everything about his touch was seering in heat, even though those leather gloves still covered his hands. It was as if you could feel the temperature of his burning skin through the material, and it only made you more desperate to claw at his clothes. Equally, Bucky needed to feel more of your soft skin and learn every inch of your body.
You were only half aware that you’d entered his bedroom because the low lighting had naturally turned on by the building's sensors. It was minimalistic, and for a second, your focus zoned into the sheets and pillow led out on the floor and not on the bed, which was just a bare mattress that he all but dropped you into the centre of.
His lips were on yours again, and you were thoroughly distracted from the makeshift bed on the floor. The sharp sting of his teeth grazing your bottom lift caused you to mewl and pull on his hair, exposing his thick neck that gave you the opening to begin your exploration, licking and teasing until he was shivering and sitting back on his knees.
You admired him momentarily as he seemed to do the same for you. His handsome face was flushed with arousal, the pupils in his eyes so vast that it was almost as if the clear blue didn’t exist anymore. His chest was heaving with steading breaths as he began to pull on each of the fingers of his gloves.
“How expensive is the dress?” he asked, eyeing the cleavage that had been his downfall all night.
“It’s Natasha’s”, you answered breathlessly.
“I’ll buy her a new one”, Bucky mumbles, gripping the edges of the dress and tearing the material into two. You gave a startled scream as you were suddenly left in your underwear, but the shock at being exposed was swiftly distracted by him ripping his shirt directly down the centre so all the buttons popped off, and the material shrugged off his broad shoulders.
Even though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on, your breath caught in your breath at his beautifully sculptured chest and abs, mouth already watering with the need to lick every inch of him.
“Be a good girl for me, Doll and spread your legs”, he demands with surprising gentleness, still sitting back on his knees and stroking a soft caress against your outer thighs.
A pathetic whimper bursts from your chest at the praise, pussy clenching with need that you didn’t waste a second before opening your legs. Even though you still had your panties on, Bucky's gaze became hungry, as if he was a man on the brink of starving to death as he licked his lip and began to lower his body.
“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this”, he admits, gripping the edge of your underwear and beginning to drag the material down your legs.
You smile to yourself, straightening yourself in the centre of the bed and getting comfortable as your legs naturally lay across his shoulders as he led stomach first on the bed.
“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”, you tease, but all the smug arrogance is drowned out by the pornographic scream from feeling his tongue taking a long, exaggerated lick from your perineum to your clit. You weren’t sure who was louder between the two of you with the moans as Bucky finally was able to taste the girl he’d been wanting for months and you for having someone actually wanting to give you some form of pleasure.
Every time you made a noise of pure joy or increased in volume, Bucky repeated the action, learning what you loved. Your thighs were nearly suffocating him with how hard they were squeezing around his face, and you knew that he would happily die right there between your legs if that’s what you truly wanted. Then there was the hair you were clenching, probably having ripped out two handfuls as you pulled on his long hair, hoping to have him as close as possible between your legs.
“Fuck Bucky! Who taught you how to do that- AH! I’m so close!” your back was arched, eyes clenched tightly closed as the pleasure was tightening within your core. His tongue lapped with quick flicks, firming the tip to add more pleasure as he pushed it into your dripping pussy. His moans added extra stimulation as you happily came all over his face, trembling and twitching cunt around his lips and tongue.
Just as Bucky was about to add two fingers into your still pulsing hole, you shouldn’t take the wait anymore and begged, “Please just fuck me already, Barnes!”
The Avengers grinned down at you as he began to crawl up your body, nipping each of your breasts with his teeth through your bra as he moved. Your cheeks warmed, seeing the shine over his stubble from your juices that he’d been happily drinking. Your thoughts didn’t remain on this fact for long though as he was kissing you feverishly once more, meaning you could now taste yourself on his lips.
With his mouth thoroughly distracting, you’d not noticed that he’d been unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down his toned thighs. Without waiting until they were entirely removed from his body, he swiped his cock between your folds, coating his length in your liquids.
Your mouth gaped open as the tip of his cock nudged into your entrance, stretching it to a level that you’d not been used to. “Shh, it’s ok, Doll, you can take me”, he promised, with one hand holding your hip steadily and the other against your cheek so he could hold your face still.
He was so deep, impossibly deep. You could feel him everywhere, widening your cunt until you were fluttering around his cock, and he hadn’t even begun fucking you properly yet.
“Nearly there, try and relax for me”, Bucky praises into your ear as your eyes widen, realising that it wasn’t even the entire length of him inside of you yet. Only as he was pushing into your cervix did your head fall back, and you sighed out. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well. Put your arms around my back; you’re going to need to hold onto something”, he boasts as you try and take a deep breath, your fingers reaching around his back, nails digging into the skin to give yourself something to hold onto.
Spreading his knees further apart on the bed, Bucky readjusts his position to gain more momentum. The man fucked good. More than good. You were pretty much pleading incoherently to whatever gods were above or below. There wasn’t anything you were begging for, just whatever it was that Bucky seemed to be doing, that it never stopped.
Each stroke caressed that sweet spot within, and with the way his hips rolled, he was able to nudge your clit with his body. Added to the mouth on your neck, biting and licking the sore spots to ease the ache, his hands pinning you down to the bed only added to the raw possessiveness dictating Bucky’s movements.
Harder and faster, his hips moved. The thick cock pounding into your cunt until you were seeing stars and cumming again, squeezing him so hard he had to still his hips to stop his own orgasm from spiralling.
But then, he's pulling out and turning you onto your front, spreading your legs once more and demanding, “Arch your back for me, Sweetheart”. Doing as he instructed, your still-covered breasts pressed into the mattress as your hips angled up. With one hand holding onto your shoulder and the other on your hip, he began to fuck you with just as much enthusiasm.
In this position, he somehow felt even more deeper, and all you could do was cry out and moan with how good he felt.
“Tell me you’re mine, I need to hear you say it”, Bucky grunts as you came for the third time, becoming overstimulated and disorientated with how good you felt.
Your cunt was still squeezing with the effects of the orgasm as you repeatedly told him, “I’m yours, only yours, Bucky”.
Bucky’s head tilted back so that he could release an almighty grunt, the hands on your body tightening enough that the skin became tender, but you didn’t care at all, not with how good you were feeling. You could feel his cock throbbing and the wetness that followed, dripping from your hole and onto the mattress beneath.
It was a long few minutes before he eased out and collapsed onto the mattress beside you, the two of you breathing heavily as his metal fingers stroked slowly down your spine and his lips followed.
“You should have told me earlier”, you whisper over your shoulder to him.
“Hmm?” he asks, moving up to your shoulder, where he carefully kissed the skin that was tender from his grip moments before.
“You should have told me how you felt”, you explain, thinking about how much time was wasted.
“Maybe. But then, I wouldn’t have had so much fun threatening everybody for looking at you”, he answers with a grin, kissing your cheek once before climbing off the bed and returning with the sheets from the floor.
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes smut#marvel smut#bucky barnes one shot#jealous bucky#bucky barnes x reader#marvel one shot#bucky#mine*
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SUNSHINE - Q. HUGHES
paring: Quinn hughes x reader
word count: 1.8k
requested? yes - quinn dating an absolute ball of sunshine and just such a sweetheart and him being so grumpy but melting for her, his family falling in love with her when they meet her and seeing how much she loves quinn but how much wuinn needs her too
warnings: use of y/n.
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In the bustling city of Vancouver, amidst the frenetic energy of professional hockey, lived Quinn Hughes, a young defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks. Known for his exceptional skill on the ice, Quinn was equally notorious for his serious demeanor off the rink. Yet, in the midst of his stoic world, there came a burst of sunshine named Y/N.
Y/N was a ball of positivity that seemed to radiate light wherever she went. Her infectious laughter and perpetual smile were like a beacon in Quinn's sometimes dimly lit world. They met by chance at a charity event organized by the Canucks, where Y/N's volunteer work caught Quinn's attention.
At first, Quinn was skeptical. He was used to the rough and tumble world of hockey, where toughness and resilience were prized above all else. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed like a delicate flower, too fragile for the harsh realities of his life. But as they spent more time together, Quinn discovered layers to Y/N that he never expected.
Y/N was not just sunshine and smiles; she had a strength of character and an unwavering spirit that Quinn found both intriguing and deeply comforting. She saw past his gruff exterior, understanding the pressures he faced as a professional athlete, and yet never once treated him like anything less than a human being.
--
The charity event buzzed with excitement as Quinn Hughes, clad in his sharp suit, navigated through the crowd with practiced ease. He exchanged obligatory pleasantries with fellow teammates and sponsors, his expression stoic and his demeanor guarded. Amidst the sea of faces, one stood out—a figure wrapped in an aura of warmth and kindness, her smile a beacon in the dimly lit room.
Y/N was busy at a booth, arranging pamphlets and chatting animatedly with volunteers. Quinn observed her from afar, intrigued by the genuine enthusiasm she exuded. She seemed out of place amidst the glitz and glamour of the event, like a wildflower blooming in a field of roses.
Quinn's curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself making his way toward her booth, his steps deliberate and measured. Y/N looked up as he approached, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she greeted him with a bright smile.
"Hi there! Can I interest you in learning more about our cause?" Y/N's voice was like a melody, soft yet confident, drawing Quinn in despite his initial reservations.
Quinn hesitated for a moment, unused to such genuine warmth from strangers. "What cause?" he asked, his tone gruff but tinged with curiosity.
Y/N's smile widened, undeterred by his demeanor. "We're raising funds for underprivileged children in the community, providing them with educational resources and opportunities they wouldn't otherwise have. It's a cause close to my heart," she explained, her eyes alight with passion.
Quinn studied her for a moment, his gaze searching for any hint of insincerity. But all he found was honesty and sincerity, a stark contrast to the superficiality of the world he was accustomed to. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of something—a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Tell me more," Quinn finally conceded, surprising even himself with his genuine interest.
And so, Y/N launched into an impassioned spiel about the charity's mission, her words painting a vivid picture of hope and possibility. As Quinn listened, he found himself captivated by her spirit, her unwavering belief in the power of kindness and compassion.
By the time Y/N had finished speaking, Quinn was thoroughly intrigued. He found himself drawn to her light, her optimism a stark contrast to his own cynicism. And as he looked into her eyes, he saw something he hadn't expected—a reflection of his own humanity, mirrored back to him in all its rawness and vulnerability.
--
Their relationship blossomed slowly, like a delicate flower unfurling its petals in the warmth of the sun. Quinn found himself opening up to Y/N in ways he never had with anyone else, sharing his fears and insecurities, as well as his hopes and dreams. And Y/N, in turn, showered him with love and affection, her unwavering support a balm to his weary soul.
Quinn sat in his dimly lit apartment, his hockey gear strewn across the floor like discarded remnants of a battle won or lost. He stared blankly at the wall, the weight of the day's game still heavy on his shoulders. It was a tough loss, one that left him questioning his abilities and his worth as a player.
Y/N sat beside him, her presence a comforting warmth in the otherwise cold room. She reached out and gently took his hand in hers, her touch soft and reassuring.
"It's okay, Quinn," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody in the silence. "You gave it your all out there. That's all anyone can ask for."
Quinn sighed, leaning into her touch ever so slightly. "I know, but sometimes it feels like it's not enough," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Y/N squeezed his hand gently, her eyes full of understanding. "You're more than just a hockey player, Quinn. You're a person with hopes and dreams and fears, just like everyone else. And no matter what happens on the ice, I'll always be here for you."
Quinn looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time, he saw past the facade of sunshine and smiles to the strength and resilience that lay beneath. He saw in her eyes a reflection of his own struggles, his own fears, and he felt a connection—a bond—that went beyond the surface.
"I appreciate you saying that," Quinn murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that there's more to life than just hockey."
Y/N nodded, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes. "It's okay to feel that way, Quinn. But you're not defined by what happens on the ice. You're so much more than that."
In that moment, Quinn felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, a burden shared and halved. He realized that he didn't have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone, that it was okay to lean on someone else for support.
Leaning in closer, Quinn found himself drawn to Y/N in a way he hadn't anticipated. He could feel the warmth of her presence enveloping him like a blanket, comforting and reassuring. And as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, a feeling of home that he had never experienced before.
--
But it wasn't just Quinn who fell for Y/N's charms. His family, initially skeptical of anyone who dared to enter their son's guarded heart, quickly warmed to her. They saw how she brought out the best in Quinn, softening his rough edges and encouraging him to embrace life with a newfound enthusiasm.
Quinn's parents, Jim and Ellen, welcomed Y/N into their home with open arms, treating her like one of their own from the moment they met her. His siblings, Jack and Luke, adored her playful nature and boundless energy, finding in her a kindred spirit who shared their love for life and all its joys.
The first time Y/N met Quinn's family was a nerve-wracking experience. She stood outside their doorstep, her heart pounding in her chest as she nervously smoothed down her dress. Quinn had assured her that his family would love her, but that didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach from fluttering anxiously.
As Quinn opened the door, Y/N was greeted by the warm smiles of his parents, Jim and Ellen. They enveloped her in a tight embrace, welcoming her into their home with open arms. From the moment they met, Y/N could see where Quinn got his kindness and warmth from; Jim's easygoing nature and Ellen's gentle demeanor instantly put her at ease.
"Welcome, Y/N! It's so wonderful to finally meet you," Ellen exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with genuine warmth.
Y/N smiled nervously, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "Thank you for having me," she replied, her voice tinged with gratitude.
Quinn's siblings, Jack and Luke, bounded down the stairs, their excitement palpable as they caught sight of Y/N. They wasted no time in bombarding her with questions, eager to get to know the girl who had captured their brother's heart.
"Hi, I'm Jack!" one of them exclaimed, thrusting out his hand for Y/N to shake.
"And I'm Luke!" the other chimed in, grinning from ear to ear.
Y/N laughed, charmed by their infectious energy. "It's nice to meet you both," she said, shaking their hands warmly.
The evening was filled with warmth and laughter as Quinn's family gathered around the dinner table, enjoying each other's company. Y/N sat among them, her smile radiant as she shared stories and jokes, seamlessly fitting into the dynamic of the Hughes household.
Jim and Ellen exchanged a knowing glance as they observed their son and his girlfriend. They had watched Quinn grow from a young boy with dreams of playing in the NHL to the accomplished athlete he was today. But what they hadn't anticipated was the transformative effect Y/N would have on him.
"She's really something special, isn't she?" Ellen whispered to Jim, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced at Y/N.
Jim nodded in agreement, a proud smile gracing his lips. "She certainly is. I've never seen Quinn light up the way he does when she's around."
Across the table, Jack and Luke were engaged in a lively conversation with Y/N, their laughter filling the room. They had taken to her immediately, drawn to her playful nature and genuine warmth.
"You're the best, Y/N!" Jack exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration.
Luke nodded enthusiastically, echoing his brother's sentiment. "Yeah, we love having you around!"
Y/N laughed, feeling a swell of affection for Quinn's siblings. "I love being here with all of you," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.
As the evening wore on, Quinn's family couldn't help but marvel at the bond he shared with Y/N. They saw how she brought out the best in him, softening his rough edges and encouraging him to embrace life with a newfound enthusiasm.
But more than that, they saw how much Quinn needed her. They saw the way his eyes lit up whenever she entered the room, the way he leaned on her for support in times of doubt and uncertainty. They saw the depth of their love for each other, a love that transcended words and barriers.
And in that moment, as they sat together as a family, surrounded by love and laughter, Jim and Ellen knew that Y/N was more than just Quinn's girlfriend. She was his rock, his anchor in a sea of uncertainty, his guiding light in the darkness.
And as they looked at their son, his hand intertwined with Y/N's, they knew that he was truly blessed to have her by his side
#hockey#nhl x reader#vancover canucks#canucks hockey#vancouver#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes
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You have an injury | Minho
ᑉ³pairing; Minho x Dancer!Reader
ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint
ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with an injury, use of pet names
ᑉ³Authors Note; Edited ! Other members coming soon!
Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts:
Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin
The dance studio hums with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation. You're the lead dancer, and every step you take feels like a triumph, all thanks to your hard work and talent. The big show is just around the corner, and you're more than ready to steal the spotlight.
However, it's been days of pushing your body to the limit, every muscle and bone strained with relentless practice. Your body moves with fluid grace, each step executed with precision and poise. You can feel the eyes of your peers on you, their admiration evident in the way they watch your every move.
As the music reaches its crescendo, you prepare for a particularly challenging sequence. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as the music begins to swell, filling the studio with its rhythm. With a deep breath, you launch yourself into the air, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you execute each move with perfection. It's as if you were born to dance, your body effortlessly translating the music into motion.
But then, in the midst of a particularly demanding jump, it happens.
You land incorrectly, and a searing pain shoots through your ankle.
You feel your body waver, your balance faltering as you struggle to absorb the shock. With a gasp, you collapse to the ground, the impact reverberating through your bones. Tears well in your eyes as the pain radiates from your ankle, pulsing with each beat of your heart. It's a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced. You try to push through the pain, to rise to your feet and continue dancing as if nothing happened. But your body refuses to obey, the agony too overwhelming to ignore. You find yourself trembling, not from exertion, but from the sheer intensity of the pain coursing through your veins.
Your fellow dancers rush to your side, their voices a blur of concern and confusion. They gather around you, their faces etched with worry as they try to assess the situation. But you barely register their presence, your focus consumed by the agony radiating from your ankle.
Tears stream down your cheeks unchecked as you struggle to come to terms with what just happened. The show is just two days away, and you were supposed to be the lead. But now, all of that hangs in the balance, overshadowed by the uncertainty of your injury.
At that moment of vulnerability, you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside you: frustration, fear, anger.
In the midst of your swirling emotions, a gentle hand touches your shoulder, pulling you out from your thoughts. It's one of your fellow dancers, her eyes brimming with compassion.
"Hey, Y/n," she says softly, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Are you hurt? How bad is it? Can you walk?"
With a shaky nod, you try to stand, but the pain shooting through your ankle makes it impossible. You wince, unable to hide the agony etched on your face.
"Hmm... We need to get you to the emergency room," she decides, her voice laced with concern. With her help, you manage to limp out of the studio and into the cool night air, leaning heavily on her for support.
The journey to the hospital is a blur of pain and uncertainty, but your fellow dancer stays by your side the entire time, her presence a comforting one. The harsh fluorescent lights and sterile surroundings offer a stark contrast to the chaos of the dance studio.
As you're wheeled into the emergency room, the sense of urgency is palpable. Nurses and doctors bustle around, their voices a constant murmur as they tend to patients in various states of distress. You're placed on a bed, the crisp white sheets feeling soft against your skin.
Your fellow dancer stays by your side. She holds your hand tightly, offering silent support as you wait for the medical team to assess your injury.
Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you lie there, the pain in your ankle a relentless reminder of the ordeal you're facing. Your mind races with worry and fear, each passing second only adding to the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your shoulders.
Then, amidst the chaos of the emergency room, you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You turn to see Minho striding towards you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.
Minho's footsteps echo in the sterile corridors of the emergency room as he approaches your bedside, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around you. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now hold a mixture of concern and hurt, their intensity piercing through the haze of pain that clouds your mind.
Confusion mingles with the pain as you meet his gaze. You never mentioned a word to him about your injury, not wanting to burden him with your troubles. How could he have found out?
Silently, he gestures to the fellow dancer who had accompanied you, a subtle signal that speaks volumes. With a gentle nod, the dancer understands and quietly slips away, leaving you alone with Minho and the weight of his unspoken emotions.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is a whisper, but it reverberates in the silent space between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. "I've been worried sick about you."
Your throat constricts with guilt as you meet his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm sorry, Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with remorse. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Minho's jaw tightened, the muscles visibly tensing as frustration simmered beneath the surface. His brows furrowed, and his eyes fixed on you as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "Y/n," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of hurt, "you didn't talk to me all day. I'm left here wondering if I've done something wrong, if you're upset with me." He let out a heavy sigh, his voice slightly trembling. "I went to bring you food, hoping to see you, only to find chaos in the studio and you nowhere to be found. I had to find out from someone else that you were hurt." His words hung in the air, punctuated by a sense of disappointment and worry. "What's the use of having a phone if you don't even bother to use it?"
You flinch at his words, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a weighted blanket.
"Do you understand how scary it is to find out the person you love is hurt and you knew nothing about it? And they don't answer?" There was a rawness in his voice, a vulnerability that he rarely showed, laid bare in that moment.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of activity in the emergency room. "I was so caught up in practicing for the dance, I didn't even realize..."
Minho's frustration only seems to intensify at your explanation. "Y/n, your health should come first," he says firmly. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. What if this injury had been worse? What if you had collapsed somewhere with no one around to help?"
His words strike a chord deep within you, and you realize the reality of your actions. Guilt washes over you in waves as you realize the recklessness of your behavior.
"I know, Min," you say, your voice trembling. "I should have been more careful. I know."
Minho's gaze softens slightly at your admission, but the frustration still lingers in his eyes. "Y/n," he said gently, his words carrying the weight of concern, "I need to know that you'll take care of yourself." His hand reached out tentatively, as if to offer comfort, but then recoiled, a gesture mirroring the hesitance in his voice. "You never ask for help, even when you're hurt," he continued. "Remember last time, when you injured your ribs and I didn't find out until I went to hug you?"
You swallow hard, the memory of that moment flooding back with painful clarity. "I remember," you whisper. "But Minho, it's not like I never take care of myself," you explain, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice.
"You've been pushing yourself harder than usual," Minho interjects. "You know that's going to take a toll on your body. You can't do that, Y/N!" His tone is firm
You flinch involuntarily, his words hitting you like a slap in the face. The sting of his words cuts through the air, leaving a palpable tension between you. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, the weight of his concern bearing down on you.
"I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because you were too stubborn to ask for help," he says, his voice carrying worry and frustration.
Tears blur your vision as you lift your gaze to meet Minho's, your heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty. "Minho, I... I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice wavering with emotion. "I never meant to worry you. I just... I didn't want to burden you with my problems."
Your apology hangs in the air, the tension between you obvious.
Minho's expression softens at your words, his anger melting away as he reaches out to gently wipe away your tears. "Y/n, you could never be a burden to me," he murmurs. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever you're going through, I want to be there for you. Please, don't ever shut me out like this again."
The door to the room opens, and a doctor steps in, breaking the momentary peace. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the doctor says, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "But I have the results of your examination."
You turn your attention to the doctor, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation bubbling within you. "What's the verdict?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.
The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. "You've twisted your ankle," he explains, his words confirming your worst fears. "It's not too severe, but you'll need to be on crutches for the next two weeks to give it time to heal properly."
You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the injury isn't more serious. The doctor continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I also recommend that you avoid putting weight on the injured ankle as much as possible. No driving until you're fully recovered, and be sure to keep it elevated when you're resting."
You nod, committing the doctor's instructions to memory.
With a gentle hand under your elbow, Minho helps you to your feet, supporting you as you steady yourself on your uninjured foot. "Take it slow," he advises, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your discomfort.
You lean on him heavily as you navigate the corridors of the hospital, grateful for his strength and steadiness. Finally, you reach the exit, the cool night air a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the hospital. Minho guides you to his car, opening the door and helping you settle into the passenger seat with gentle care.
As you arrive home, Minho continues to be by your side, his protective instincts in full force. With gentle hands, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, making sure you're steady every step of the way.
Once inside, Minho leads you to your bedroom, where he encourages you to sit down on the bed. "Stay right here, Y/n," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "I'll take care of everything."
You watch with a mixture of amusement and gratitude as Minho bustles around the room, fetching pillows to prop up your injured ankle and adjusting the blankets to make you comfortable. He returns with a tray of food, carefully balancing it in his hands as he sets it down on your lap.
"Dinner is served," Minho announces with a smile, his eyes warm with affection as he watches you eat. "Just relax and let me take care of you."
And just like that, Minho becomes your personal caretaker, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. He brings you meals, helps you with your exercises, and even reads to you when you're feeling restless.
In the quiet moments between meals and exercises, you catch glimpses of a side of Minho that he rarely shows. His usual cool demeanor softens as he tends to your needs, his touch gentle and his voice filled with tenderness.
Despite his outwardly stoic nature, his actions speak volumes about the depth of his love for you. You see it in the way he carefully adjusts the pillows under your head, in the way he sits by your side, holding your hand as you rest.
You watch how he reaches for a tube of muscle cream from the bedside table, his movements deliberate and gentle. With practiced care, he unscrews the cap and squeezes a small amount onto his fingertips.
He begins to apply the cream to your injured ankle, his touch firm yet tender. He starts with slow, circular motions, his fingers working the cream into your skin with a gentle pressure. With each stroke, you can feel the tension in your muscles easing, the warmth of the cream soothing the ache in your ankle.
There's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before, a rawness that speaks of the pain he feels seeing you in discomfort. It's as if every ache in your body is mirrored in his heart. And though he may not always express his emotions in words, his actions speak louder than any declaration of love ever could.
"Minho," you say softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You really don't have to do all this."
His gaze meets yours, a mixture of surprise and concern flickering in his eyes. "But Y/N," he begins, his voice filled with sincerity, "I want to take care of you. You mean everything to me kitten, and seeing you in pain..." he trails off. " I just want to make it better."
You smile softly, but beneath the surface, guilt gnaws at you persistently. "Baby," you continue, "I can't help but feel guilty for taking up so much of your time. You have shows to prepare for, comebacks to plan, dances to choreograph... and the kids need you."
Minho's eyes soften as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity, "you are my priority right now. Yes, I have other commitments, but none of them are as important as making sure you're okay."
You feel a lump form in your throat at his words. "But," you protest weakly, "you shouldn't have to sacrifice so much for me."
His gaze meets yours, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Y/N, you're not just 'me.' I can't bear to see you in pain, and I'll do everything in my power to make it better. I'll move mountains to take that pain away because you're more than just important to me; you're everything."
You feel Minho's arms enveloping you in a warm embrace, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling within you. His lips press gently against your forehead, a tender gesture that sends shivers down your spine.
"I wish I could take all the pain away," he murmurs, his voice soft with longing. "I wish I could carry it instead of you."
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and compassion. "Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion, "Just having you here with me... it means everything."
In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain and uncertainty, you know that with Minho by your side, you can weather any storm.
"I love you," you murmur, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "I love you more than words can say."
His hold tightens around you, his heartbeat echoing in sync with yours. "I love you too, kitten" he murmurs, his voice a gentle promise. "More than you'll ever know."
*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like | © 2024 Valkyriexo licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
#stray kids smau#skz smau#skz texts#stray kids#straykids x you#stray kids ff#straykids angst#skz imagines#straykids fluff#skz#skz x reader#bang chan#lee felix#lee know#minho#changbin#jeongin#seungmin#hyunjin#injury#lee min#lee minho#minhox#minho x reader
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Lost in the Woods (dp x dc)
"Why are we here again?" Tucker asked as he rearranged his backpack straps.
"Because you lost a bet and Gotham Woods are my best chance of seeing a real satanic ritual," Sam answered.
“Hey, no,” Danny protested. “We said no spooky business. This is strictly for fun.”
“Fun,” Tucker repeated, dryly. “This is how most horror movies start, you know. Camping in the woods at night.”
“I highly doubt there’s any serial killer out there,” the halfa soothed. “I checked the news. There are no escape convicts right now.”
“The Riddler’s out,” Sam refuted.
“Can you imagine that pasty twig-man willingly trudging through the woods though?” Danny asked.
“I probably go out more often than him,” Tucker conceded.
“Which means we’re all good,” Danny concluded.
The trio walked a bit further before reaching the spot they had brought the rest of their bags and dropped their heavy backpacks beside it. Tucker fell down beside them before raising a hand to chase away a mosquito that was buzzing around.
“I hate this already,” he whined as he tried to smack the bug.
“Get up,” Sam said as she nudged him with her foot. “We gotta get the tent up.”
With a groan, he stood up and they got to work on the tent. It didn’t take very long, thanks to Danny’s experience in pitching Fenton Work tents, which had come from the numerous times his family had gone camping.
“What now?” The halfa asked.
“Why don’t we walk around a little?” Sam suggested.
“Can’t we take a minute to breathe?” Tucker complained.
“It’ll be fun,” Danny encouraged his friend as he offered a hand getting to his feet again.
"I'm beginning to think you don't know what that means."
They grabbed some water and snacks before setting towards one of the closest hiking trails. It was supposed to be an easy quick walk, but as time went on the path became more and more wild and overgrown, they started doubting the way. By the time they had stopped, the path was now nonexistent.
“We’re lost,” Tucker said. “The sun is setting and we’re lost in the creepy satanic woods.”
“First of all,” Sam started. “I have a compass, and second, we have Danny. We’ll be fine.”
“Oh I see how it is,” the halfa dramatically said. “You guys are just using me for my powers.”
Before the goth could make a proper answer to that, Tucker shushed them both before dragging them towards some thick bushes. A few moments later they could see two men in long robes carrying a third, unconscious man in a black and blue outfit.
“Those goddamned bats,” one of the ones wearing cultist robes said as he struggled to carry the unconscious man’s legs.
“Shut up and move faster,” the other cultist said. “The Grandmaster said to get him to the Barn before sundown.”
“I’m trying my best here,” the first one said. “Those robes don’t exactly make it easy.”
“They’re ceremonial!”
“Right now they’re a ceremonial pain in my butt,” the first cultist retorted which made the other sputter.
As they moved passed the three teens’ hiding spot, their voices faded in the distance. The ensuing silence was broken by Sam's “Dibs on any skulls when we raid the evil lair”.
“Why can we never have normal vacations?” Danny mumbled as he let his face fall in his hands.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#btw I'm imagining Dick as the bat but any would work too#Also I find it fascinating that Gotham has a giant forest just on the outskirts of the city#I cannot begin to imagine the amount of cult sacrifices that happen there yearly#roxpox#roxpoxwrote
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okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭
Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves
Series Masterlist
“She’s bleeding out!”
Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.
You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”
“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.
George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”
Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”
From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”
There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”
Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”
You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”
Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”
Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”
Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”
Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“
The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”
You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”
***
The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”
George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”
Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”
Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.
“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”
The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”
Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”
Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”
The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”
“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”
The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.
“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.
She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”
Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”
She chuckles, “I could go for that.”
***
The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.
A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”
The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.
“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”
Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”
George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”
The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”
Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”
The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.
Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”
“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”
***
After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”
Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”
George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”
Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”
Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”
“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”
“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.
She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#sebastian vettel x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lance stroll x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris x reader#mick schumacher x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#sebastian vettel imagine#max verstappen imagine#charles leclerc imagine#lance stroll imagine#george russell imagine#lando norris imagine#mick schumacher imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader
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Hi there, Lovely! I have a fic suggestion/request;
Everyone seeing Mattheo Riddle as the "stereotypical big scary Slytherin", but with his girlfriend he's just a big soft baby, who wants to snuggle and be pampered with so much love
PS: are you planning on updating the masterlist?
Soft Spot - Mattheo Riddle x Reader
Word Count: 931
Warnings: None
AN: Enjoy this cute one-shot centered around the soft side of Mattheo Riddle! Thank you for the request, darling! Also, I did just update the Masterlist.
Mattheo Riddle, chilled and composed, had earned himself the title of the "stereotypical big scary Slytherin." His stern glare and intimidating figure were enough to make anyone quake in their boots. Gryffindors would shrink away from him, Ravenclaws would cautiously avoid his path, and even the Hufflepuffs eyed him with a sense of unease. Everyone assumed he was as cold as the dungeons he walked in, unable to feel warmth or compassion.
However, little did the other students know that behind his icy eyes and intimidating stature, Mattheo Riddle was just a big soft baby when it came to his girlfriend, Y/N. It was with Y/N that he showed his true colors—a gentle soul who craved snuggles and affection.
Every time they were in each other's company, Mattheo's tough facade melted away like ice beneath the sun. Y/N had the magical power to bring out his softest side, and he cherished every moment spent with her.
One lazy Sunday afternoon, Mattheo sat in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his fellow housemates. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter as the students relaxed after a week of studying. But Mattheo's attention was solely focused on Y/N as she entered the common room, radiant and cheerful.
Mattheo's sharp eyes softened as they met Y/N's gaze, her presence melting away all his worries. He couldn't help but feel his heart flutter with warmth. Y/N confidently approached him, unfazed by the gazes of their curious fellow Slytherins.
Mattheo's arms instinctively opened wide, welcoming Y/N into a loving embrace. As she nestled into his chest, Mattheo tightened his hold, relishing their closeness. His friends watched in awe, unable to reconcile this tender scene with their preconceived notions of Mattheo Riddle.
"Y/N makes the formidable Mattheo Riddle into putty," whispered one intrigued Slytherin.
"You should see him when they're together, like a lovesick puppy," giggled another.
Mattheo, unaware of the whispers surrounding them, nuzzled his face into Y/N's hair, inhaling her familiar scent. The world faded away as he focused solely on the tenderness of the moment.
Time lost its meaning as they sat there, connected through their shared affection. Mattheo's heart thrived on this delicate intimacy, unaware of anyone else's presence. It was in Y/N's arms that he truly felt whole.
But Mattheo's desire for love wasn't limited to snuggles alone. Y/N)reveled in the moments when she could pamper him, taking care of his emotional needs. She knew just the right amount of love he needed, delicately balancing pampering and support.
One evening, Mattheo had returned from a difficult Potions class, his emotions running high from the rigorous experiments. As he entered the dormitory, hoping for a moment of respite, Y/N noticed his unease and immediately took charge.
"Y/N," Mattheo began quietly, "I had an awful day. Everything went wrong, and I just… I need someone to be there for me."
Without hesitation, Y/N guided Mattheo to his bed and sat him down, her caring eyes focused on him. She brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of the day's struggles.
"You've had a tough day, love, but I'm here for you," Y/n whispered soothingly. "Let me take care of you."
With that, Y/N fetched a warm mug of tea, the aroma of chamomile hovering in the room. She settled beside Mattheo, wrapping him in a cozy blanket. Mattheo rested his head on Y/N's shoulder, feeling her comforting presence seep into his very being.
As they sipped tea and exchanged soft whispers, drifting into the night, Mattheo felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. In that moment, he realized that despite the Gryffindor bravery or Hufflepuff loyalty, it was the Slytherin cunning and ambition that often yearned for love the most.
And in the arms of the one who truly knew him, Mattheo Riddle found solace—reminding himself that there was nothing weak about being vulnerable and craving love.
#y/n#harry potter#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfiction#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo riddle x reader
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Queer Experience Watching Barbie - AFAB Masculinity
I started to go into this in tags on another post but I wanted to type this up separately and try to develop my thoughts a little more. . .
Ryan!Ken’s arc in Barbie (2023) has been buzzing in my head for days.
I got fixated on it for a couple of major reasons:
1) We rarely have seen a feminist movie take time to address men with compassion in how patriarchy harms them too.
2) As a trans masc person, I think it hits a specific part of my identity that I don’t consciously let myself think about for too long. Something about being raised in a female world with sisterhood and community. Then being isolated in adult manhood without the tools to prepare you for that. Conscientious of respecting women and being unbothered by feminimity around you, but not knowing your place in the world.
How do I put it?
I know it’s not the direct intention of the film itself, but I’ve seen other trans folks (especially transmasc), reacting similarly to the feeling we get from it.
Ken’s arc feels pretty reminicent of the struggle afab lgbt folks go through when considering masculinity in their identity (butch lesbians, afab nbs, trans men, etc.)
How to make peace with masculine aspects of yourself without losing the women in your life? (One can argue Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie has aspects of this as well.)
Of course, then Ken goes off on the adopting patriarchy ride, which IS the point of the movie, and may skew a bit from the transmasc read on it--though I have known a trans guy here and there who avoids being misgendered so hard that they can become somewhat sexist. To which I say: “You don’t need to have a dick to be a man, and you don’t need to BE a dick to be a man.” But I digress.
Something about Ken being comfortable in a woman’s world but not understanding why he’s being shut out from socially bonding with them (in any sense! Romantic, Familial, Platonic Friendship. . .)
The overall theme of the movie for both Barbie and Ken--in an allegory of heavy gender roles harming all--leading them each to have to figure out who they are in themselves, regardless of others. . .
Trans masc folx can relate to both Barbie and Ken’s arcs.
I don’t want to detract from Barbie’s arc being the main point of the movie.
I think the reason why we get hung up on Ryan!Ken’s character is because. . . we’ve related to the Barbie plot in other movies and shows before, thinking back to our “girlhoods” as children.
I have never seen the arc Ken has in this in any other story!!!!
There are some Man Movies that have attempted to discuss the struggle of Being a Man--but they often come off as too dismissive of feminine experiences, and are therefore as offputting to transmasc people as women.
Because of the nature of the two worlds exhibited in this movie, and Ken’s backround in his setting, personality, and purpose in relation to the Barbies, he’s a Man living with Female Socialization, in a Woman’s World; he’s a male character that inherently admires and respects women in his nature (until the real world influence distorts it).
This isn’t a perfect example of a transmasc experience either, but it’s a lot closer than most of us generally get to see! That’s why so many of us are getting caught up in this.
Please, other trans folx (transfems, too!), I really need us to have a discussion about this. What were your experiences and thoughts around this movie?
P.S. Yeah, we kinda get that nonbinary allegory from Allan (not a Ken, not a Barbie, siding with Feminism in the Gender War), but he wasn’t in significant focus of the plot the way Ryan!Ken was. If I try to read into Allan, I don’t have much to work with.
#barbie#barbie movie#barbie 2023#ryan gosling ken#ken#queer#ftm#afab#transmasc#transgender#trans man#agender#nonbinary#enby#nb#gender#gender roles#text post#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtqia#gender studies
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Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust
Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...
Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.
This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')
Da = Johnny
Papa = John P.
Dad= Simon
Daddy = Kyle
School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.
Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).
Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.
And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.
None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.
Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.
Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"
"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.
Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"
After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.
Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.
With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.
The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.
When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.
"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.
You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.
"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.
Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.
"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.
All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.
"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.
"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.
"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.
"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.
"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.
"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.
"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.
"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.
"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.
"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"
The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.
Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.
"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."
"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)
Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.
"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.
"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.
It was always hard to hang up.
It hurt.
But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.
'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.
"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.
"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."
"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.
You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.
"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."
#witchthewriter#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#poly cod#poly!141#polyamourous#polyamory#kyle garrick#kyle garrick headcanon#kyle garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon riley#simon riley cod#john price#john price x reader#john price x you#captain john price#task force 141#captain johnathan price#captain price#price cod#johnny mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mctavish
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Today, we’re tackling Dungeon 4 in LoZ ALTTP, Thieves’ Town. Let’s break in, snag some goodies and bust out of here, flashily!
#Let's Play Legend of Zelda A Link To The Past#Let's Play#LP#ALTTP#Silentsenior09#SilentS#SS#video game commentary#Make me a playboy bunny#UwU#OwO#Blind the Thief#Winder#Zazak#Buzz#Ropa#Titan's Mitt#dungeon key#dungeon map#compass#Big Key#Dungeon 4#Thieves' Town#Village of Outcasts#Coffee slurping#weird#awesome#yay#funny#derp
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