#but like - its just one little part of him - one little part of their relationship
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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.
✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+
this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!
PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!
✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)
✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.
i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.
also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh
✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.
Bastard.
An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.
The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.
Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.
The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.
The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.
A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.
You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.
Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.
There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.
The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.
Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.
Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.
You think the worst of your life started there.
Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.
The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.
Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.
A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.
The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.
(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)
Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.
At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.
Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.
Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.
And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.
Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.
Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.
Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.
For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.
It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.
The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.
The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.
At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.
He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.
When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.
Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.
The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.
How he would treat you.
("So you're the new brat,"
Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.
He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.
"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."
Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.
"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")
The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.
Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.
You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.
You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.
Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.
The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.
A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.
You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.
The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.
Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.
And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.
The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.
They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem
The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.
And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.
The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.
Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.
Your uncle is above all things manipulative.
Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.
You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.
You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.
And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.
It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.
Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.
In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.
(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.
Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)
You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.
About everything.
An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.
("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"
"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.
"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."
"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"
She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .
"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."
"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?
Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.
"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."
You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.
You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)
You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.
(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)
Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.
The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.
You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.
So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.
On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.
__
The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.
For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.
You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.
Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.
It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.
But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.
You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .
For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.
You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.
The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.
You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.
For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.
You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.
When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.
All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.
"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"
Your stomach churns. You feel sick.
"Come to the living room."
You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.
Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.
You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.
"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."
You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.
"Did you need something?"
He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."
You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.
"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"
You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."
"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"
You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.
"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.
"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"
You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.
There's even less of a normal relationship between you.
But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.
You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.
It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.
It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.
You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.
"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.
You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.
"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."
"People smoke around me all the time."
"Do you smoke?"
You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"
You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.
"Don't like the taste."
"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."
"I just drink socially,"
"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"
This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"
"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"
The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.
"It wasn't that either—I've never-"
He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"
You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.
"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."
"That's—It wasn't for you."
For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.
"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.
There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.
"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.
Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"
"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"
"I don't look like that!"
"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."
Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.
Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.
There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.
You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.
You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.
But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.
It's relieving in the worst way.
"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.
"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."
Our family. You wince. .
"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."
"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."
You do know that. You cast your gaze away.
"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"
You don't say anything.
"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."
This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.
He grins at you.
"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."
"What's in it for you?"
You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.
You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."
He scoffs a little.
"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."
"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"
"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.
You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.
You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.
You look at him.
“You’re horrible.”
“Tell me something new.”
“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”
You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.
“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”
“The contract. Are you serious about that?”
He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”
“And that’s me?”
“Seems like it,”
You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.
“...Fine.”
Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.
It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.
What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?
The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.
Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”
You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.
When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.
You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.
A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.
He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.
All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.
You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.
You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.
“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”
“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.
You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.
He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.
“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”
Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.
“How would I know?”
He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”
You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”
Sukuna barks a laugh.
“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”
“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”
He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.
Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.
You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.
You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.
“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”
“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”
“It’s mine to stare at.”
You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.
But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.
He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.
You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.
“Thought of something, brat?”
“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.
“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”
“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”
“Into bad boys or something, kid?”
You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”
This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”
You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”
He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?
“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”
“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”
You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.
“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.
With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.
With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.
It doesn’t feel unpleasant.
“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.
“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”
You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.
He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.
Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.
“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”
“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”
“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”
“There what is?”
“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”
“What is it, oh.”
His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.
Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.
Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.
The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.
“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”
The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.
“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”
You don’t even think about asking what he means.
“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”
He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”
You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”
Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.
You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.
You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.
“Tastes good, kid.”
You flush. “Shut up.”
“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”
Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.
“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”
You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.
Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.
“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”
You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.
“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”
Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.
The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.
Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?
He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.
It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.
And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.
This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.
“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”
It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.
You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.
“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”
“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”
“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#jjk smut#writing tag#dark content cw#incest cw#dubcon cw#abuse cw#grooming cw#<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY
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↳ EVENT 03. Sebastian (Date Night)
Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader
Genre: Smut 18+
WC: 2,779
Warnings: established relationship, cock humping, cum in pants. thats it <3
Prompt(s): 03 — date night
Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!
A/N: im loving how soft everyone in this event has been, it's allowed me to stretch my fluff writing muscles a little which i desperately needed <3 don't get me wrong, im just as excited to get to the rougher requests too hehe! but this is a nice change of pace from my usual stuff, so thank you for letting me indulge in this type of writing!
A weekly tradition, one he's kept with him for as long as he can remember. Even when he was too young to drink, his mom would drag him to the saloon every weekend just like how everyone else in town would inevitably show up soon after, the kids getting free reign of the pool room to play in while the adults enjoyed the end of the week together, surrounded by too tall glasses of beer he was always mesmerized by. And years later, he still visits to play with his friends— only he's of legal drinking age now and able to appreciate the taste of alcohol appropriately, which adds a fresh spin to the lifelong pool nights as it were.
And, of course, there's you too. The new addition to his routine, married and homely. A welcomed plus one at that, not just by him, but by his friends too. A small little get together with everyone that quite often doubles as a date night; especially considering there's fuck all else to do in the lazy Pelican Town other than get drunk outside or get high at home. And he does enough of the latter with you already, so he likes to think that these saloon date nights count for something, right?
It's a chance for you to get all dressed up and pretty at the very least! Not that he doesn't think that you're always the prettiest girl in the world, but he knows that he puts in a little more effort himself when it comes to attending the weekly function, and it's nice to see what sort of outfit you'll end up in too. Because you look so pretty in them all, he'd be hard pressed to pick a favourite. Giddily awaiting his chance to politely ogle you from across the bar, a secret hidden game shared amongst lovers.
"Seb!" He hears you yell from the bathroom, and a smile automatically finds its way to his lips. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, all ready to go, he yells back an eager yeah babe?
Footsteps answer his question, and he awaits your arrival with bated breath. Expecting you to be done dressing by now, maybe needing some help with a difficult to reach zip or something? But what he doesn't expect is... Well, God, look at you...
Oh, that's gotta be his favourite outfit on you after all. Wasn't so hard to pick now, was it? The sight of you entering the bedroom, cute confused look on your face, wearing what he can see is only his old hoodie and a pair of underwear is such a pretty view. He bites his tongue as you saunter closer, else he's liable to spill filthy secrets about just how long he's yearned to see you wear exactly that, eyes half lidded the moment his gaze lands on your bare thighs. You could wear anything in the world, the most expensive dress known to man, the prettiest pare of heels in the world, and this would still be his favourite. Barefoot and underdressed, how domesticated you appear, hair and face all done up nicely, dressed to the nines in his hand me downs. There's not a prettier sight, he suddenly decides. Wanting to clutch his chest from how in love he is with you wearing his hoodie, an unmistakeable thirst present in how his hands itch to haul you on top of him so he can love on you a little. Genuinely pained from how badly he wants you in such a swift moment, his pretty little wife.
Still, he hopes you plan on wearing more than just that out to the saloon; a tight tug of jealousy wrapping around his fluttering heart. Except, well, maybe he really doesn't. You look perfect as is, all smiles and wifely in his beloved clothing. His beloved wearing his beloved, he'd rather you stay just as you are. But the thought of others interjecting themselves into such a personal moment for him is annoying, has him already wanting to shield you away from prying eyes despite remaining safe at home.
"Do you know where my uh... My— y'know?" You vaguely gesture towards your bare thighs with your words, and his eyebrows raise in faux suspicion. You always get so frazzled before leaving for the saloon, something about the excitement of the night to come getting to you, and though he truly believes it's innocently adorable how you fret, he can't help but wet his lips at the way you draw attention to your pretty legs right in front of him.
"Your... pants?" He questions back, tutting quietly to himself when you enthusiastically nod yes!
Of course he knows where they are— you had thrown them to him just before getting in the bathroom to assumedly finish getting ready. And like the polite husband he is, he took them without any issue. Quietly holding on to your possessions like he's been taught to, because he enjoys helping you out without need for questioning. "Sure do." He plainly states, reaching behind his back to retrieve the thrown away bottoms only to waggle them in front of you— just out of reach!
The sigh of relief you let out has him chuckling, light laughter filling the air as you ramble on about being so ditzy sometimes, but he thinks it's cute. Loves being your metaphorical knight in shining armour when you come seeking his help for the easiest of things; simply because you've forgotten again. It's nice to be of use to you.
Buuuut, on the other hand, it's just as much being your bully, too. There is intimacy in the moment where your eyes go wide as he tugs the clothing a little farther away, a silent encouragement for you to keep coming, just a little closer. The soft padding of your bare feet on the old creaky floorboards of the farm house rings in his ears as you pout prettily at him, almost bashfully, and he considers it a blessing to see you this exposed and vulnerable up close. "Ah-ah." He teases, extending his arm as high up as possible and rendering your pants inaccessible, a sneaky smirk matching his taunting tone. "I think you should leave just like this," He wiggles around, escaping your attempts to take hold of your bottoms with ease, because he knows your tactics well by now. This is not the first time he's teased you like this. "What d'ya think, babe?"
"I can't, Seb! It's too cold, hence the hoodie!" You huff cutely, and by God does he wanna kiss your lips all better. Cock quietly twitching in his pants as you take his playful attitude well, leaking a little precum for you as you tug on the hoodie strings enough for him in your demonstration of how cold you really feel to be able to see that you wear it just like him: as in, with nothing else on underneath.
He briefly wonders if you can feel the heat coming off of him, big arms ready to cuddle you up against his toned chest in an effort to share his warmth with your apparent shivering self. But you answer his question swiftly when you take to climbing on top of him, his arms immediately wrapping around you as a sharp gasp escapes him— the feeling of your knee brushing against his cock knocking the wind out of him, and still he cares more for your safety than the embarrassing fact that just seeing you in his hoodie has him rock hard already.
Tense pause follows, frozen in place with his strong arms keeping you stable as you rock preciously on his lap. God knows where your clothes have gone, because they were immediately tossed aside the moment he thought you might fall, favouring your safety above all else. And then, without a second though, he blurts out a rushed "Sorry— I, it's just..." Before he buries his head against your chest, taking a shaky inhale to try and collect his thoughts, but with your body practically skin tight to his from how snugly he holds you, cock rubbing inadvertently against your leg, the scent of you mixing with the old musk of his worn hoodie— it was a mistake to tease you from the get go. Only resulting in riling himself up enough to have him biting down on his bottom lip to stave off the primal need to buck his hips against literally any part of you like some sort of horny teen; the things you still do to him. Maybe it'd be understandable if he was acting this way back in the beginning of your relationship, and yet...
"You look good in that." He sighs into you, emphasis on the good to make sure you understand the weight of your actions tonight, curling further into you and leaning back on the bed, safely dragging you down with him and letting go just so he can see how you look above him. "Should be a sin, honestly." He laughs with you, noticing the soft blush on your cheeks prompted by his open honesty.
It's not so bad to admit to such degeneracy, right? Cock nestled firmly between your legs, his hands coming up to stroke gentle lines up and down the fat of your thighs lovingly. Would that he could keep you here all night to himself, dying to show you just how much he loves the minimal fit the best way he knows how. But one look at the clock denies him such pleasures, a heavy sigh escaping him as he notices that he should have left with you five minutes ago.
"C'mon," he pats your ass fondly, blowing some hair out of his face as he half sits up, leaning his weight on one arm while his legs still yet hang off the edge of the bed. "We should get going, once we find your— ah, fuck— babe—!"
Mid sentence, you effectively shut him up with a simple movement. Just a small rock forward, nothing too serious. But fuck does it feel great having you take control like that, his eyes flickering up to your face only to see it scrunched up similarly to his own. Tense, expectant. He holds his breath for a second or two, reclaiming a spot on your back as one arm wraps possessively around it, the other still holding him up.
"Or— We could stay here, if y'want?" He offers, but rather than waiting for a response, he slowly guides you into more movement. Pushing lightly on your back to help you hump forward, and removing the weight of his hand to watch you slide back down his lap. Knowing that you're depending on him for stability when your own hands take root on his shoulders is nice, strokes his ego about as well as your barely clothed cunt strokes his cock off right now. And he figures he's got his answer when you bite your lip so seductively that he has to roll his cock up in tandem with you, literally forced into helping you get off on his lap because instinct begs him to please his wife.
It's just that he's so in love with all the small details, y'know? Like how his hoodie fits you better than it ever has him, how it falls from your frame so prettily as you hover above him, his hand gripping the back of the fabric a little tighter so it showcases your frame just that much better for his leering eyes. The little hah's and seb's your pretty lips whine for him as he helps you ride back and forth on his fat cock, the way your brows furrow in concentration, trying desperately to feel the full weight of his hidden cock, cloth barrier providing enough stimulation to rub nicely against your scantily clad clit, but he knows that frustrated sob all too well. He's fucked it out of you enough times before to know that you need more— but babe, you're already running late.
"C'mere." He prompts you with a head tilt, the moment your face gets close enough to his own he courteously kisses you. Short and sweet, a quick peck more than anything, before your greed overtakes you and you push your hips down into him with more vulgar intent, leaving his mouth wide open in a silent gasp of pleasure for you to take advantage of. He'd never complain at the feeling of your tongue running along his own, his grip tightening on the old hoodie you adorn as a means to display some semblance of restraint, but every drop of shared saliva he's forced to swallow in hopes of more has his head dizzy with desire. A great need welling in his tummy to help you get off, desperate to have you use him for your own benefit like the pretty princess you are to him.
He returns the fervour readily, impishly nibbling down on your lower lip before you do the same back, charming him with a simple smile as he leans in for more kisses. All the while his hips continue to buck up for you, fucking forward when you stroke down, and vice versa when he helps your ride closer to him, drawing his hips down so that his tightly concealed cock almost mimics catching on your pretty hole. The shuffling sound of his jeans fill the room to match the squeak of the bed, and he welcomes every lewd moan and suck you have to offer his needy lips.
"Feels s'fuckin' good, babe—" He slurs truthfully when taking a breather from the heated kiss, vision hazy with how good you look riding him like this. And the fact that he's close already from just a minor amount of petting is a testament to how much he just adores you, he thinks, so there's no room for shame in his pervert thoughts when you push him back down onto the bed, his back cradled gently by the sheets below. And the addition of your open palms on his rapidly rising and falling chest as his lungs struggle to keep up with how fucking hot his wife is when you know what you want only adds to the tight feeling in his core. Balls taut under your relentless humping of his cock, head thrown back with barely there control.
He only wishes he could have whipped it out in time to really feel how soaked your pretty cunt must be, gliding up and down his red hot length as you start to shake on top of him.
Which is perfect, really, because he doesn't think he'd be able to last much longer at this rate either. Saloon well forgotten about when he's got the prettiest girl alive on top of him, riding him so well that he's about to stain his jeans white with how your hips snap up and down his tip, unsure who the main culprit is of the growing wet spot on his bottoms is— but that's hot. Unashamedly yearning for each other as your nails dig into his chest, your thighs tightening at his sides as you pinpoint the exactly location needed to help trigger your orgasm and then—
"That's it, that's my girl—" He manages to force out before he's cumming with you, mostly due to the sight of his hoodie sleeve getting suckled on as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the sickening contrast between how fucking cute you are and that fact that you're cumming all over his nice jeans is too much to handle. After all, he's but a simple man. And when his wife starts to moan his name around the makeshift hoodie gag, he can't help but to shoot his load against his underwear. Cock throbbing under your soaked little cunt as if he were actually filling you up— God he wishes he was, hands digging into your hips as he pushes you against his spurting length to help milk the remainder of seed out.
Just for you.
And he holds you there until he's done, only releasing his grip on you once his body stops tensing and he remembers how to breathe again, a dry half laugh crawling up his throat as you continue to shake for him.
"Better than the usual date night, right?" He muses out loud, pulling you in for a tight cuddle when you join in on his breathless laughter. Hid friends can wait, at least until he's able to find your clothes again. And, a new pair of jeans for himself.
#500 event!#i like this one its nice n soft#PRAYING FOR NO MAJOR MISTAKES THIS TIME BUT WHO KNOWS LOL#sdv smut#stardew valley smut#sdv sebastian smut#sebastian smut#stardew valley sebastian smut
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Bryan Kneef NSFW Alphabet
Bryan Kneef x reader
Warnings: so much smut, so many kinks, dirty derogatory talk, teasing, threesomes, edging, masturbation. y'all know the drill lol.
I don't remember if this was requested. It's been sitting in my wips for MONTHS now and I figured I should finally finish it.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
It mainly depends on the setting, if Bryan takes someone home, or is in someone’s bed he’ll give the minimal amount of cuddles he needs. He doesn’t like to, but he knows with the amount of bdsm kinky things he’s into he needs to make sure his partner is okay afterwards, no matter what level of involved they are. He’ll usually wait til she’s asleep and then sneak out. If you’re in a committed relationship he’s going to be incredibly gentle, if its not too late he loves to take a bath with you, watching the hickeys and marks on your skin darken as he holds you under the water, enjoying the relaxation himself.
B = Body part (your favourite body part of theirs and theirs of yours)
He adores your ass. I mean, he loves all of your body, tits, hips, calves, lips, but your ass is something he can never get enough of. Grabbing it, squeezing it, fucking it, he’s all about ass.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Bryan loves to cum deep inside you, and adores watching the cum leak out of you, fucking it back into your cunt with his fingers, a toy or his cock (this is of course as long as your on BC or he’s snipped, he aint about that baby life). He also loves coming on your face, basically anything with cum, the messier the better.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He will sub for the right person, and will gladly get pegged and he absolutely adores it
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s *very* experienced. He knows exactly how to seduce someone and exactly how to please them, and just the best way to get himself off. Name something and he’s likely tried it. He’s afraid of basically nothing and is always down to explore kinks or walk someone down that road.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Doggy. There’s no doubt. He loves to watch your ass, thrust a thumb into your ass as he fucks you, pull you flush against him, hand wrapping around your throat as he pounds into you from behind.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s more serious. A few little chuckles here and there before he’s done with it. Though if he’s actually with someone he’ll be more goofy in the moment, but even with someone he loves he’s sill gonna be more serious.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Bryan likes to sleep around, he’s a playboy and that kind of intimacy doesn’t even become part of the conversation until he’s sure that he wants to pursue a relationship with someone or if he knows that from the start and is “courting” them instead of seducing them. Ya get me? Lol. If he sees you and knows instantly you’re more than a quick fuck he’s gonna pull out all the stops, rose petals on the bed for the first night you sleep together and shit.
J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)
Likely daily. Morning wood taken care of in the shower. In the evening’s he’ll strip down and get into bed, getting super comfortable, drink in one hand, cock in the other as he turns on porn and watches for a few hours. Most nights it’s gonna be a long run, teasing himself until he can’t hold back anymore.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
It would literally be easier to list the things he’s *not* into LOL. Bryan’s all about the BDSM community, he likes to tie you up, use a crop to spank you, all about the toys for both you and him. Pet play is something he enjoys, and you just have to know this man has a dirty kink.
L = Location (favourite places to do the do)
He knows he has to be somewhat careful due to his job/image, but he’ll likely fuck you anywhere. He’s a bit of a exhibitionist, loves fucking you up against the windows, bent over his desk, the bathroom at a bar, in the shower at home, over the kitchen island, on the couch.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
A number of things! He particularly enjoys you in lingerie, or little hints of it peeking out from under your clothes. Skirt riding up just enough to see the top of your thigh highs, bending over just enough so he can see the red lace under your shirt. Coming home to find you half or fully naked in his bed. Getting sent racy texts or photos is what really gets him going. He’s also the one that gets horny jealous. If he sees you flirting with another man/getting hit on by another man you just know he’s going to take you home (or to the nearest private space) and is gonna remind you who you belong to and why.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
There may be a lot he’ll experiment with but I’m gonna say that scat play is past his limit.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves pussy but he absolutely loves getting his dick sucked, there’s just nothing comparable to it. The image of you on your knees in front of him makes him instantly hard, and he obviously likes them messy. Likes when you spit into your hand before stroking his cock, loves fucking your face, drool dripping down your chin, thrusting so deep into your throat you’re gagging around him, eyes watering, mascara running. The more ruined you are by the end of it the better.
When it comes to giving, he is good at it and knows what he’s doing, but it’s a step that he’ll skip for his quick hook ups.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Fast and rough 99% of the time. He likes it hard, he likes to fuck you senseless, deep and hard enough that you’re going to be feeling it for the rest of the week.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Absolutely fucking adores them. Quickie in the shower, quickie in the morning once he sees the lingerie you’re wearing. Sees you in a fancy dress for a gala? Gonna fuck you in the backseat of the car on the way there. Office quickie? You bet.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Absolute risk taker. He’s always game to experiment and try out something new. He’s only turned down a couple of things over the years and that’s cause they were super fucking weird. He’s more than willing to role play, for you to dress up, or recreate porn you’ve watched together. And he’s obviously not against fucking in public.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He can last a decent amount of time. Long enough for the foreplay, for you to suck his dick and then to fuck you into next week. If he is starting to get tired, or it’s been a longer day, he’ll make you ride him a while before he dicks you down. As for rounds, he can go all night, but he’s gonna need a bit longer of a break between turns, and he loves to cock warm you during those.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
This man has a toy collection big enough to rival your own, maybe even bigger. He’s got a couple of vibes to help out when his hands get tired, or the position means he can’t really reach your clit. He’s definitely got one that sits in your panties and rubs on your clit that he has the remote to. Same with an internal one of the same. He’s got butt plugs of varying sizes, at least one dildo so he can fully double penetrate you without having someone else there. He’s definitely got a couple of cock rings and at least one of them vibrates. He’s also not afraid of his own ass being played with, so he’s got toys for that too.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He’s the ultimate tease. Fantastic with words, sexts, and dirty talk he’ll have you absolutely dripping and whining for him and he’ll still make you choke on his cock, grinding on his shoe before he’ll touch you. And if you’ve been the one teasing him and riling him up all day, you better believe that he’s not letting you come, he’ll wait til you’re right on the brink and then completely stop. As long as he’s come himself, he’s not touching you and you just know you’re not allowed to touch yourself for the next week. (but he’ll use you however he wants to in that time frame).
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not crazy loud, lots of groaning, grunting and swearing. But he’s also into dirty talk, and definitely leans to the derogatory side of things. Calling you his dirty whore, his little cum slut, how well you take his thick cock, how good it feels when he’s stretching you out, daddy’s needy thing.
W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)
Loves M/M/F threesomes. Sometimes it’s the DP action, seeing two cocks stuffed tight into one hole (or two, depending) and sometimes it’s getting his ass fucked while he fucks someone else. He’s got no shame when it comes to that and will openly admit that he enjoys the company of both men and women.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He’s thick, veiny, a shower. It’s big and he knows it.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Decently high. He likes to fuck a few times a week at the very minimum and I like to believe he’s a daily masturbator. Even on the days where he’s tired or out of it, working late or the like and doesn’t really have the yearn to fuck all it takes is you showing up in your lingerie, or naked, or getting on your knees and he’ll start to get hard.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Pretty fucking quickly, especially if he’s certain there’s no more rounds to be had, or if it’s a work night, he’s out pretty fast.
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@detective-giggles @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @lustvolle-liebe @anlin2058 @fandom-princess-forevermore @tinyboxxtink @alexusonfire @xovalliegirlxo @somethingimaginative17 @momlifebehard @misscharlielulu @alcabots @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @valentinesfrog @originalbrunettecharacter @wittygutsy
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Lily
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,
Word Count: 413
A/N: Please accept this little preview nugget.
NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Best friends to Lovers. Lily McIntyre couldn’t think of a single thing more romantic than that. She’d spent her entire life searching for that one person who would transcend the bonds of friendship into something so much more, and for years, she’d been left wanting. So many friendships left to flounder when the necessary spark failed to materialize, so many seemingly perfect connections ruined because she wanted more than any of these so-called “best” friends could give. It felt unfair. It felt cruel. It felt hopeless.
Until.
Lily remembered the day like it were yesterday, forever seared into her memory as though it had been branded there, and it in a way, it had been, because the moment she met Bucky Barnes had become an indelible part of her, a core moment in the creation of the perfect life she desired– no, deserved to have.
It was warm for late March, the birdsong thick in the air as she ran a batch of new SHIELD recruits through their drills on the outside training track of the new Avengers’ Compound in Upstate New York. She hadn’t been thrilled with Tony Stark when he’d insisted on moving the operation out of the city proper, but she had to admit, being away from the congestion of the metropolis ended up having its perks. Besides, the city was still close enough to enjoy all the amenities it had to offer.
She’d just sent her group off to do sprints when she saw Captain America, himself, approach her, followed by a stranger she’d never seen before.
She was immediately struck by how gorgeous he was– chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes, shy, timid smile. Perfection, she thought, as Captain Rogers introduced the man as his best friend, James “Bucky” Barnes.
“Lily runs the training program for new SHIELD recruits,” the Captain was saying. Lily found she could only nod and smile as Steve explained the training program, so transfixed was she by this handsome new stranger. Bucky listened with polite interested, then said something about wanting to go check out the obstacle course, and as he walked away, the Captain leaned toward Lily and spoke softly, so as not to be overheard.
“Buck’s going to be joining us in the Compound. Aside from me, he hasn’t really got any other friends, so, you think you could help make him feel at home? Maybe try to be his friend?”
“It would be an honor, Captain,” Lily agreed, smiling. Absolute perfection.
Next Part ->
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
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Breaking chains (3)
Pairing: Biker!Bucky x reader
Series Summary: Leaving behind an abusive and possessive boyfriend, and finding refuge in the hometown you once yearned to escape, certainly wasn’t a chapter you anticipated in your life’s story. Yet, eyes as blue as the sky at dusk, belonging to a mysterious biker drew you into a world of unexpected possibilities, where a job at his bar becomes more than just a means of survival - it’s a pathway to freedom and self-discovery. Though, breaking away from your past proves daunting when shackled by chains.
Chapter word count: 6k
Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship; mentions of an accident (no explicit content); self-loathing; self-preservation (reader and Bucky)
Author’s note: Here’s the third part my people! Hope you enjoy the little lone time with Bucky :) Let me know if y’all want to be added to the tag list.
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
Laughter pulsated through the air, echoing off the walls and mingling with the soulful tunes emanating from the jukebox. Slight off-key singing wove its way through the dimly lit room of the bar, creating a harmonious backdrop.
Glasses, adorned with frothy beer clinked together, liquid slouching over the rims. Patrons sat shoulder to shoulder, their arms interlinked and swaying to the gentle rhythm, while others tapped their fingers on the bar counter.
You lost count of how many glasses you filled this evening, the bar being crowded with men and women enjoying their time. It was stressful but in a good way. The anxiety that had clung to you like a stubborn shadow since you left Michael was forgotten, shoved back into the recesses of your mind. If only for a momentary reprieve.
As you wiped down the counter in front of you, the damp cloth leaving streaks on the polished wood, an empty beer glass materialized before you, its base meeting the wood with a muted thud. A deep, slightly slurred voice accompanied it.
“Fill that up again, sweets, will ya?”
You looked up then, seeing Will - as he had told you the first time you served him beer - leaning on the counter in front of you. He was surely about ten years older than you, his smile a little crooked and his brown eyes, though a little unfocused from the many rounds you had poured him, still held a glimmer of charm.
He was harmless though, you were sure of it. All he did was throw you a wink when you handed him his beer back, his eyes not flying to your chest and his lips remained untouched by his tongue. He was just here to flirt a little - a harmless way to pass the hours. He didn’t make you uncomfortable and he gave a great tip, so you didn’t even have to force out a smile in return. It was endearing, really.
Yet, Sam beside you, filling a glass himself; shot you a quick, cautious glance to check in on you and it made warmth rise within you.
You had been pouring drinks for about three hours now. Steve was the one to show you around earlier the night since Sam was busy bartending. Said guy had thrown you his bright, toothy smile and a wink from behind the counter when you entered the bar for your first shift.
Steve had introduced you to a few of the bikers of the gang, lingering in the bar right now. You had recognized the three guys you saw the first time at the bar at the dartboard and learned them to be Thor, Clint, and Tony.
The blond hair, mountain of muscle - Thor - crushed you in a bear hug that threatened to squeeze the breath from your lungs, claiming you were practically one of them already. Clint rescued you from the momentary shock of Thor's unexpected embrace with a witty joke that had you laughing, Clint seemingly pleased with himself. Tony's gaze had swept over your figure briefly, his smile a practiced curve as he introduced himself. They seemed to be nice people. You heard Thor's boisterous laugh every now and then from behind the bar counter.
Nat, the only woman of the gang was absent tonight, off on business, Steve had told you.
Bucky wasn’t around either, you had noticed - ignoring the fact that your gaze swept the room, seeking out his brooding figure, clad in all black - who had haunted your thoughts since the first time you’d seen him. Steve didn’t mention him and you didn’t ask.
The bar elicited an unexpected ease that enveloped you and settled in your stomach, spreading within your body. Sam's unconventional 'job interview' at the gardening store had been a whirlwind of spontaneity, yet it led you here and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the guys. Steve had welcomed you with his gentle smile and his glinting blue eyes. He treated you like an old friend coming home from a long journey.
It had barely been a week since you came back to your hometown and the sense of comfort it already restored was almost overwhelming. The bar's cozy ambiance wrapped around you - the creaks of leather booths, the soft murmur of conversations and shared laughs, the scent of aged whiskey. It was a refuge from the chaos that had torn through your life, leaving you battered and bruised - literally.
Having had more time to take in the walls, you let your gaze sweep over the photographs adorning it. These weren’t just random snapshots; they were glimpses into the gang’s history - them standing together, faces etched in laughter.
But one picture held you captive. You looked at Steve and Bucky, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, caught mid-laugh. Steve faced Bucky and Bucky's head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes and the edges of his mouth pushed high up his rosy cheeks. He looked so carefree and unguarded in this picture and it lured you in, almost feeling like you were intruding into something intimate.
It made you wonder if you ever were to see him laugh like that in person.
You deftly poured the next rounds of beer. The patrons around you blurred into a sea of faces, their features indistinct, lost in the swirl of conversation and clinking glasses as Bucky’s brooding presence lingered in the corners of your mind. Your eyes scanned the worn leather seats sagging under the weight of countless patrons in search of his stoic figure, his cerulean eyes shadowed by mystery.
At the dartboard, its surface pockmarked with missed shots and bullseyes, stood a rowdy group huddled around it, their laughter punctuated by the thud of darts hitting the board. But Bucky was conspicuously absent like he had been for the last hours.
Remembering the hidden staircase he descended from on the day you met, your eyes flickered to the wooden steps. The dim light of the bar cast elongated shadows, making the steps appear eerie.
Wanda had told you that one of the guys lived above the bar and you wondered if it might be him and if, perhaps the stairs led up to the apartment.
Silver rings knocking on the counter ignited you to swirl back to the front, where an impatient woman stood before you, her dark eyes boring into your skin and you gave her an apologetic smile, quickly beginning to fill up her drink. You poured a little extra into her glass and she seemed to be pleased, gaze softening into a half-smile and a curt nod.
As she retreated, you noticed Sam looking at you out of the corner of your eyes. There was an unreadable glint in his eyes and that smirk you came to like but it made an uneasy chuckle spilling from your lips as you raised an eyebrow at him.
“What?” you asked, your voice a soft challenge.
Sam shook his head, eyes flickering towards the floor for a split second before coming back up to you. He considered you for a moment and you couldn’t read his expression. You hated when that happened. It left you feeling defenseless. When his eyes flickered to the staircase over your shoulder, the same you’d fixated on earlier, he spoke without taking his eyes off it.
“He doesn’t really come down here.”
His voice was strangely soft, considering it was Bucky he was talking about. He seemingly talked about Bucky gentler than he did to him.
“He’s not exactly a guy for crowds,” he explained, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, “never has been. But he still plays his role here. We all are.”
He told you that everybody in the gang had their part in managing the bar. Tony was the brains - navigating the labyrinth of paperwork, licenses, and permits required to keep the place afloat. Steve and Pietro took care of the kitchen, keeping it clean and preparing snacks. Thor was the bouncer, practically towering above everyone and seeing everything - he took care of heated situations and rowdy drunks feeling too comfortable being inappropriate. Clint took care of the light and music and helped out Sam behind the bar when he was needed. Nat took care of business beyond the walls of the bar, but Sam didn’t elaborate on that.
And then there was Peter. He was still in college but helped out as a barback - stacking crates and polishing glassware. Sam mentioned that his aunt was worried he might get tangled up in dangerous affairs, but Peter seemed insistent on at least helping out a few times a week. You hadn’t met him yet, but Sam laughed as he told you he was a bubbly kid, always eager to help out.
Bucky took care of deliveries and closed up the bar after everyone left, cleaning it for the next day. He liked it that way - needed it even, although he would never admit it - Sam told you, and since he lived right above the bar it was practical for the rest.
You wondered why Bucky was the one living above the bar when he was craving solitude and silence, and how it came to that arrangement. It could have been a coincidence or he offered to take the place so nobody got disturbed and fleeing arguments.
But maybe, you pondered, he actively desired it - the rhythmic symphony of laughter and songs, clinking glasses, and animated conversations. You knew all too well that being alone and being lonely was a whole different thing. Perhaps he found solace in the cacophony, using the noises from below to keep himself anchored. Sitting in silence, alone with your thoughts could be scary. Perhaps he craved proximity to the motley crew he might consider his family, without the obligation of direct interaction.
You didn’t know if that was true, he was a complex man.
But you would understand.
You observed Sam talking with keen interest, captivated by the way he wove his words. His voice carried a warm fondness, a sense of ownership that resonated through the room. The pride he felt for this place was palpable. The smile on his lips remained unwavering as he fluidly balanced glasses, wiped the counter, and served the regulars all while talking to you - It made you understand why Sam was the bartender.
The bell above the bar’s entrance chimed once again, its sound slicing through the air. The patrons, caught up in their own worlds of laughter and conversation, remaining blissfully ignorant of its intrusion.
You envied it.
Every time that bell went off, a jolt went through you, an electric shock that reverberated through your nerves. You forgot how it felt like not to be afraid all the time - the constant, gnawing fear that clung to you like dampness. The fear that made you startle at the slightest noise, your heart racing as if it were trying to escape your chest. It seemed like such a long time ago when you weren’t jumping at shadows, at the rustle of leaves, at the creak of a floorboard.
The bar did offer a sanctuary. It cocooned you to some extent, keeping you busy enough to not lose yourself inside your mind. You could laugh with Sam and the smiles you threw the patrons while preparing their drinks were genuine enough.
But you knew that healing wasn’t a swift process. It didn’t happen overnight, especially not when Michael was out there and might find out about your whereabouts at any given moment. And maybe the next time the bell tinkled, it would indicate his figure walking through the doorway.
Acknowledging the woman who had entered the bar, you watched her walking in your direction. Her red hair cascaded around her face, framing sharp features. The corner of her lips was slightly lifted and her gaze was surprisingly clear through the chaotic ambience around you.
The leather jacket she wore reminded you of the ones the other bikers were clad in and you remembered her from the photographs on the wall you looked at earlier. She was Nat, as Steve and Sam had referred her to - a member of the gang.
You busied your hands by wiping down the counter as she drew closer. The smirk on her lips widened and she unabashedly assessed you from head to toe. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she exuded a natural confidence. There was a time when you wore the same swagger but now you felt unsettled under her gaze.
“I see why you gave her the job so easily, Wilson,” she drawled, her eyes shifting toward Sam with a playful glint.
Sam shook his head while his eyes rolled back and he pointed a finger at her, the towel in his hand swinging with his movement. “Be thankful she’s good, or you’d be in her shoes right about now.” His tone lacked any kind of malice, a playful smile sporting his lips.
Nat chuckled lightly and her eyes locked on yours again. “Call me Nat,” she offered, her smile turning genuine. She extended her hand and you met it with your own as you told her your name.
“Oh, I know,” she conceded, the smirk returning.
Just then, Steve emerged from the kitchen, his eyes landing on Nat at the bar and she pivoted toward him. You watched him raising an eyebrow - a question she seemed to understand - and she responded with a subtle shake of her head.
“All clear,” you heard her murmur, before another customer beckoned and you were forced to return to your task, pouring liquid with practiced ease.
****
Sam had rung the bell for the last call ten minutes ago and patrons stumbled out the door, their voices fading into the night as they disappeared down the cobblestone street. The air was thick with the lingering scent of whiskey and beer.
Sam had insisted you leave a few hours ago, but the bar was bustling until the end and you didn’t want to leave him alone. You had met his chastising glances with determined smiles and brushed off his concern. And although he was reluctant, his gratefulness was clear.
“You’re a stubborn one,” he had grumbled, but his eyes were soft. “Thought I’d only have to deal with Bucky.”
Glasses clinked as you restocked the shelves and Sam finished off the counter. You started wandering the room - Tables were littered with half-empty glasses and crumpled napkins. You paused at one and reached for the glasses when a voice startled you.
“Let me.”
Nearly knocking the glasses off the table, you were about to collect, you whipped around and there was Bucky - dressed in his signature black attire, hair tucked neatly behind his ears. The hand that had reached out in your direction fell back to his side, and his face wore an apologetic wince.
You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, cheeks flushed at the embarrassment of your jumpiness. You didn’t even hear him coming down the stairs.
“Oh, no it’s fine. I can get those,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out wavering.
“You’re stealing his job, sweets,” Sam called from the bar. “Cleaning up is all he’s good for.”
Bucky sighed but his attention remained fixed on you. “You don’t have to do this,” he claimed, voice gentle.
“I’m happy to help, really,” you insisted, meeting his eyes briefly before picking up the glasses and walking back to the bar.
“Let her, man. She’s as stubborn as you are,”Sam called out with a laugh.
As you all worked together to tidy up the bar, the atmosphere settled into a comfortable rhythm. You cleaned the glasses, while Bucky placed more on the counter from the tables and booths scattered around the room.
Silence settled over you as you worked and when you finished restocking the freshly cleaned glassware, your gaze shifted to Bucky, who was diligently wiping down the tables, his back to you. He looked more at ease than you‘d ever seen him. His shoulders weren’t rigid, and his movements weren’t as tense as they normally were. You couldn’t take your eyes from his relaxed state.
Curiosity tugged at your insides as you noticed him wearing that glove on his left hand again. He never seemed to put it off. Though, you couldn’t delve deeper into the topic because Sam was watching you. Anticipating the usual playful or teasing smile, you met his gaze, but instead, his features held a softness - a fondness that seemed to reach deeper. There was something in his expression you couldn’t unravel and it made you turn away again.
A few more minutes spent in silence passed before Sam clapped his hands together after stowing away the broom. “Alright, ladies, I’ve got to head out,” he announced, slipping into his coat.
You caught Bucky stilling in his movements from the corner of your eye.
“Do you want me to give you a ride home, Y/n?”
Sam looked at you expectantly, his question sincere and his gaze soft, but you hesitated. You felt like you couldn’t accept his offer, and honestly, the thought of getting on a motorcycle made your stomach churn, so you waved him off with a smile. “That’s nice Sam, but I’ll just walk. I’m not too far.”
“You shouldn’t walk home,” Bucky chimed in as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. You had a hard time holding it. His expression was serious, yet somehow still soft, although the dim light traced the edges of his jawline, accentuating its sharpness. The cloth he had used to wipe down the tables dangled from his fingers.
“I hate to say this, but I agree with Barnes here. It’s dark and it’s pretty late. You shouldn’t walk.”
Your gaze returned to Sam, still standing at the entrance. “I could just call Wanda, I’m sure she’ll pick me up,” you said, a shy smile gracing your lips. You didn’t want to inconvenience anyone - a sentiment Michael had ingrained in you.
Sam shook his head, about to respond, when Bucky interjected.
“I’ll walk you.”
You blinked.
Sam blinked.
“There’s no need to ask Wanda. We let her walk over to take care of Pietro lots of times already. So I’ll just walk you,” he explained, his words casual, yet underlaying with a kind of nervousness that was endearing to you. He looked tense again, with his left hand tucked in his pants pocket, while his right fisted the fabric of the cloth. His eyes darted around the room slightly, before they met yours once more.
You cast a swift glance at Sam, who stood there with his arms crossed, thoroughly entertained. Then, your attention turned back to Bucky. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re practically home already, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Bucky shook his head slightly, his hand waving in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t mind,” he assured you and a gentle smile tugged at his mouth.
You held his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bar, but they still held the depth you came used to by looking at them. He looked at you as if it were your choice - as if it were merely an offer you could take up. It had been a while since you got to make your own decisions and you took a second, glancing at the ground to absorb this weight.
These people, strangers just days ago, had embraced you with open arms and it stirred something within you. Bucky’s gentleness, the way he looked at you thawed the ice around your heart.
Sam shifted from the entrance after you took a few seconds too long to answer. “Well, you kids go figure that out. I’m leaving,” he declared, throwing open the door. His smirk lingered as he glanced back at the two of you before stepping out into the night with a playful goodbye on his lips.
The door swung shut and the silence hung over you again. You shifted on your feet, nerves fluttering. Bucky’s gaze remained patient as you met them again.
“Well, uhm,” you began, your voice coming out a touch uncertain. “If you’re sure…” The words hung in the air, a tentative acceptance. Bucky’s response was immediate, his smile widening - a confirmation that sent warmth blooming within you.
“Give me a sec,” he said lightly, already moving to get rid of the cloth in his hand and getting his coat to slip on.
The solitary figure of Bucky’s motorcycle occupying the place in front of the bar caught your attention immediately after Bucky held open the door for you and your worn shoes met the pavement outside. Earlier in the evening, it had been one among several parked bikes, but now it stood alone since everybody in the gang went home.
The sleek, matte black frame of the bike seamlessly merged with the surrounding darkness, save for the occasional glint of metal catching the faint glimmer of moonlight. Your gaze lingered on the machine for a few seconds. You took in the curve of the handlebars, the gleam of chrome accents against the black backdrop, and the pronounced dent in the front that stood out in the soft glow of a lamppost a few feet away.
“Lead the way,” Bucky said quietly, extending his arm for you to step forward. With a faint smile on your lips, you glided past him and he was quick to follow, making sure to match your pace as he fell in step beside you.
Silence hung between you, but it wasn’t as awkward as you had anticipated. Bucky took a deep breath beside you, taking in the scents of the night, as you took in your surroundings. A shiver ran down your spine, both from the cool night air and the unexpected closeness to Bucky as he steadily walked beside you, his worn leather jacket almost brushing against your own coat.
In Seattle, the night was always alive with activity - the honking of cars, the murmur of voices from nearby restaurants and bars, the rhythmic beat of music drifting from open windows. The air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, intermingled with the savory scent of street food. The streets bustled with people and passing cars that left whiffs of exhaust for you to smell.
Here though, the air is quiet, carrying a crisp and clean scent. There was the gentle chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl echoing in the distance. Bucky’s boots made a steady, rhythmic thud against the pavement, punctuated by the soft shuffle of leaves as you both walked side by side.
The silence between you felt almost intimate and you assumed Bucky felt the same as he softly cleared his throat beside you. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, as if not wanting to disturb the peacefulness that surrounded you.
“So, how long do you know Pietro and Wanda?”
His gaze remained fixed ahead, on the darkened storefronts lining the street. You stole a quick glance at him, captivated by the way the moonlight sculpted the planes of his face. He maintained a relaxed posture, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his expression relaxed.
It was nice seeing him like this. You didn’t know where this feeling came from, since he was still a stranger to you, but seeing him this comfortable left your heartbeat pick up, the usual stoicism and scowl on his face lost in the soft breeze of the wind that brushed by, and let you shiver slightly.
You took a breath to answer him. “We met in elementary school,” you answered, a faint smile touching your lips. “And have been friends ever since.”
You caught Bucky’s nod from the corner of your eye. A low hum escaped his throat, the sound almost swallowed by the darkness.
“I hope Pietro doesn’t cause you guys any problems,” you mused, your gaze fixed on the cracked sidewalk ahead. The rhythmic crinkle of Bucky's leather jacket reached your ears and you tried to suppress the jolt, that ripped through you when it lightly brushed against your own coat.
“Nah,” Bucky replied, his voice a touch deeper, “he’s a good guy. Helps out as much as he can.”
It was your turn to nod as an answer.
Somewhere between the life you left behind with your hometown and this new, uncertain existence, the ability to weave words and spark conversation had deserted you. The vibrant, witty you of your old life was a stranger now, replaced by a hesitant shadow. You were drowning in unspoken thoughts and questions, the weight of them settling heavily on your shoulders.
Yet, Bucky’s presence ignited a sliver of comfort within you, and a sense of relief washed over you. He didn’t seem to mind the quiet or the lack of an answer from you.
The silence stretched for a beat, punctuated only by the crunch of your footsteps on the sidewalk. Then, Bucky swallowed and began talking again.
“I’m sorry about Sam,” he started, his voice gruff. “He can be…a bit much sometimes. Talks a lot. And doesn’t really care about boundaries.” A sigh escaped him, and you stole a glance upwards to see him grimace in apology as he looked down at you.
You huffed out a laugh, looking back down at the sidewalk. “Oh no, it’s fine.” A smile played on your lips. “I actually like him.”
Bucky chuckled slightly, a deep rumble that echoed from his chest, vibrating through your own body. It only lasted a second, but that sound would stay with you longer after this conversation ended, you were certain.
“Don’t let him know,” he warned, a smile in his voice. “It takes one pretty girl telling him she likes him and his ego bursts.”
You darted a surprised glance up at him, his words sinking in. Did he just call you pretty? As if realizing the same thing a bashful smile spread across Bucky’s cheeks. His gaze darted upwards, feigning interest in the moon casting its silvery glow upon you both.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed lightly, your voice laced with a newfound warmth. A pleasant heat spread through your chest at his comment and his lightly flustered state. You couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. Bathed in the moonlight, his features seemed even more striking, the sharp angles softened by the slight curve of his lips, a little contemplative. He was beautiful.
You blinked surprised at the familiar brick facade of your apartment building looming ahead already. The walk with Bucky had been so comforting, time melted away under his presence.
Coming to a slow stop, you turned to him.
“Well, uhm, this is me,” you stated softly, gesturing towards the building with a tilt of your head.
Bucky mirrored your halt, his body turning slightly to face you fully.
“Thank you for walking me home,” you said sincerely, a grateful smile gracing your lips. “You really didn’t have to, but I truly appreciate it.” Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your coat.
Bucky’s smile mirrored yours and he shuffled on his feet slightly. “It’s no problem at all, Y/n.” Your name on his lips sent a pleasant tingle through you. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Yeah,” you replied lightly, turning towards your doorway. “Get back home safe,” you added, the warmth of his gaze lingering on your back when you faced your door.
You didn’t notice Bucky remained rooted to the spot, swallowed by the shadows between two lampposts, only moving again after the door fell shut behind you.
****
Bucky’s boot picked up a lone pebble on the sidewalk, sending it skittering across the uneven pavement. It bounced once, twice, the dull thuds echoing in the stillness of the night, before coming to a rest nestled against a jagged crack.
The night air felt a little colder suddenly, prickling with a sudden chill. Yet, a warm sensation bloomed in his chest, something he couldn’t quite define. It was some sort of contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps never truly, when he thought about it.
Bucky liked going for walks when it was night. He felt like he could hide away in the cloak of darkness. The many people, the harsh glare of the sun, the cacophony of car honks, and children’s screeching laughter - all these things were absent in the night. It was only him and the watchful moon, providing him the little flicker of light he needed.
He listened to the symphonies of the night, a chorus often drowned out by the relentless chaos of the day.
But tonight, those noises were merely playing in the background as Bucky continued his trek back to the bar.
His mind remained tethered to thoughts of you.
You had become a persistent presence in Bucky’s thoughts for the last few days, an enigma that he couldn’t unravel ever since the first encounter at the bar. There was something about you, an unmistakable vulnerability - a weightiness that hung in the air around you, hidden beneath a forced smile.
He noticed it in the way you carried yourself - the subtle restlessness in the way you moved, the nervous energy that danced in your fingertips as they toyed with your jacket, the restless flicker of your eyes as they darted around the room.
And of course, he had seen that fleeting flinch, barely perceptible yet telling, as Pietro mentioned a name. Michael, Bucky believed it was. Tension had gripped your frame, the wary glance around as if making sure nobody had seen that involuntary reaction.
But Bucky had, and it made him wonder.
It was clear that you carried around a burden. You instinctively closed yourself off, becoming awfully guarded whenever inquiries veered too close to the reasons for your return to your hometown. He had seen it in the gardening store when Sam asked you those probing questions.
It wasn’t that hard to guess that it had something to do with that Michael, Pietro had mentioned.
Bucky became good at reading people in the times he closed himself off - after his accident. He fell into a hole, a chasm of solitude where he sought refuge from his harsh realities. He withdrew into himself, staying within the confines of his own silent anguish.
The gang tried to respect his sense of distance, but a chill settled around him like a shroud, enveloping him in an aura of icy detachment. His demeanor turned frigid, his responses curt and clipped when he provided his friends with an answer at all. They got used to his stares and the frostiness that cloaked his every interaction.
Until Sam put a stop to it.
He was the one to give Bucky shit about it and forced his sorry ass back up with annoying persistence, urging him to claw his way back to the surface.
Or as Sam had put it: “Get your ass out of wherever it’s stuck, man, this can’t go on like that”
Still, there were certain things his accident had taken from him that even Sam couldn’t force back. He lost parts of himself - pieces of his identity, fragments of his former self, leaving behind a fractured semblance of the guy he once was. In its wake, insecurity crept in, entwining his being, and strangling the remnants of his confidence.
It made him grow out his hair and hide away those ugly scars that littered his left arm behind long sleeves and those damn gloves that made him sweat underneath.
He grew into a new version that had lost interest in flirting with every pretty girl he came across in a town he knew he would only pass through. He no longer reveled in the transient pleasures that once left a trail of satisfaction in his wake when getting back on his bike and leaving her and her town.
After it happened, his nights had unfolded in a predictable, almost monotonous way when he and the gang had entered a new town to stay for a couple of nights before moving again.
Always moving.
He stayed in those dingy hotel rooms with their flickering fluorescent lights and stale air, oftentimes sharing a room with Steve and Sam because money was always rare.
Or, he would find himself hunched over a bar counter with a white-knuckled grip on the beer glass in front of him. Each swig of whiskey, each shot of bottom-self bourbon, was a desperate attempt to drown out the echoes of past mistakes, to numb the shame that gnawed at him from within.
He had hoped the alcohol would help get rid of that uncomfortable itch under his skin that made his back prickle with a cold sweat at the lingering stares of some of the women in the bar. Unfortunately, though, nothing could help distract himself from the onslaught of unwanted attention, so after he couldn’t take it anymore he left the bar to take a walk in the dark.
Just him and the moon, a silent communion with the vast emptiness that mirrored the hollowness within.
His past behavior irked him - the fleeting pleasure he sought, now a bitter residue staining his conscience. It had been a momentary high, but at what cost? Perhaps he had left a trail of hurt feelings after fleeing another girl’s apartment before dawn’s first light could even peek through the curtains, just for her to wake up to the fading rumble of a motorcycle - his motorcycle.
His ma had raised him better than that.
Thinking of his former actions always had bile rising in his throat. Disgust at himself coiled in his chest, a viper he couldn’t seem to dislodge.
So it left him bewildered that he was so effortlessly flirting with you earlier, the word ‘pretty’ tumbling from his lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was true, undeniably so - you were beautiful, but the ease with which the compliment flew out left him stunned.
He didn’t know where that came from. All he knew was that your presence afforded him a strange sense of calm. He didn’t feel himself retreat into his usual shell. It was unnerving to some extent, this unfamiliar territory. The way his thoughts buzzed with you, a constant undercurrent, sent a tremor of apprehension through him. He was out of his depth.
Earlier tonight he had been grappling with the thought to leave his apartment and walk down those stairs to the bar. He knew you would be there, attending to your first shift and it would be an opportunity to see you again, but he had hesitated. He knew you barely a week, and surely he would have to deal with a few questioning glances from his friends and that inevitable teasing smirk of Sam - one he had threatened to wipe off with a fist more than once - that he seemed to wear more often since you came to town.
But then he did get to see you and of course, the first thing he did was startle you. He had cursed himself inwardly. Yet, as you prepared to walk home alone in the dark, a surge of protectiveness washed over him, compelling him to ensure your safety. It was a sensation foreign to him, yet undeniable in its intensity.
He had never experienced such a pull towards anyone before. You ignited something within him, a dormant spark that stirred to life in your presence. He was intrigued by you because although he could read people well, there were things about you that remained a mystery to him.
Perhaps, unbeknownst to the both of you, there may be deeper similarities hidden beneath the surface.
Tag list:
@heletsmelovehim @moonlightreader649 @jbbarnesgirl @differenttyphoonwerewolf
#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#james buchanan barnes#biker au#biker!bucky#leather biker
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irvinis replied to your post “Thinking about the photo from tonight, i almost…”
@ingravinoveritas this may be fanon (canon created by fans), but it fits so well into the daddy/boy dynamic. Michael comes to David's performances with his doors wide open, wearing his best sweater (or baring his arms) and giving a standing ovation: THIS IS MY BOY! And David makes his way to Michael’s performances, wrapped in a scarf up to his eyebrows and sighs quietly in delight from an inconspicuous place in the corner.
@irvinis Ohh...this is tickling a very specific part of my brain. Oh, I love this. In the past I didn't usually go for the daddy/boy dynamic with Michael and David (because I've always seen their relationship as one of equals/switches), but this absolutely fits them like a freaking glove.
We have the picture Georgia posted of David all wrapped up exactly like that, so right away that gives us a visual:
And what you've described goes perfectly with what we saw when Michael went to see Macbeth in December--that white-bright moment of Michael gazing up at David from the audience, and David looking right back at him, captured forever on film and in our hearts. That, in contrast with last night, with David quietly going to the show and doing everything to keep the focus on Michael. David waiting until the lights have dimmed and all eyes are on the stage to let out that little sigh, feeling a shiver of unrestrained happiness work its way through his body as he watches, enraptured, as Michael does the thing he does best.
It's also interesting how this potentially ties into Michael not doing the matinee today. I know we could say it's because he's still recovering from being sick (and that would certainly make sense), but I love the thought that Michael sat out so many performances earlier in the week to make sure he had his strength specifically for last night's performance, because he knew David was coming and wanted to do a good job for him.
I could also see David going to Michael's dressing room after (with thanks to @greeneyed-thestral for planting the seed of that lovely idea) and seeing Michael all enthralled with a post-show high from performing, yet still anxious about how things went--worrying if he was on key for the musical number, if he missed any cues. I can see David slowly backing Michael into the mirror without a word, until the lights frame Michael like a halo. He takes off his ball cap and unravels his scarf in an elegant heap on the dresser, revealing himself, both of them now bare and vulnerable. David grasps either side of Michael's face in his hands, thumb tracing over the crow's feet at the side of Michael's eyes, and smiles softly. He kisses Michael, mouths opening just slightly as the kiss deepens and their tongues meet. Kisses him long enough to quiet Michael's mind, to get the overthinking voice inside to stop.
He is quiet, this David. Always making himself smaller to fit in rooms within rooms, hiding away, keeping the peace. Until Michael. Michael, who somehow had the key to every door. Something in David expands, becomes louder, growing to more than his slender frame could seem to handle, and he pours it into that kiss. A mark of this moment, of Michael bathed in light, of the two of them together and David silently saying, we are here. We are together and I am going to take care of you now.
Oh, yes...I could certainly see that happening. Thank you so much for this delicious prompt on a Saturday morning...
#irvinis#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#david tennant#soft scottish hipster gigolo#why does this seem so plausible though#Michael's breath catching in his throat at the kiss#sliding an arm around David's waist to steady himself#both knowing exactly what the other one needs#they are perfect together your honor#fanfic ideas a-brewin'#fanfic#good omens rpf#yes to all of the above#ineffable lovers#discourse
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Eyoooo, thanks for answering my last ask!!! anyways, gotta new one for ya, same groups if ya able but with a really pretty/attractive mc s/o like manhwa mc level kinda pretty. I can imagine kaito being somewhere along the lines of 'they tossed me over their shoulder and I've been on it ever since' with a little touch of internal screaming. I just wanna see if any of the boys would be flustered or have their ego stroked with having a really pretty s/o -👾
Thanks for sending asks in fam! This will be fun since I have so many ideas for these boys!
JIN KAMURAI
Being honest, his ego is entirely stroked by an attractive MC.
The one thing he finds a pain in the ass is all the gossip. He's always hearing some baseless rumor that someone is cheating or MC got surgery done or whatever.
It pisses him off to hear people talk about his beautiful/handsome partner like that.
Whenever he gets the chance to show MC off, he does and he makes sure their outfits are to DIE for.
Congrats! MC will most likely be spoiled with a new fancy wardrobe. (He would do this with any serious partner but it's AMPLIFIED with an extra attractive MC)
Whatever they need for their skincare or whatever routine they need. He'll take care of it. Just give him a list and he'll get someone on it ASAP.
TOHMA ISHIBASHI
The ego boost this man gets! OH MAH GOD!
He's not shy and he knows what he's about so he's not necessarily flustered, but he's definitely proud to land such an amazing looking partner.
A lot of others start referring to MC as royalty once they start dating, they start it sarcastically of course but when Tohma hears it, he flips it right on its head.
I mean like, using it to fluster MC: bowing, taking their coat, carrying things, etc (again, he'd be doing that stuff anyways) but he would take the time to fluster MC at the same time.
What i mean is like kissing the back of their palm and whispering against their skin something along the lines of,
"Only the best for my Prince/my Princess/ your Majesty/etc"
KAITO FUJI
Kaito does not know how the hell he got here with them but he doesn't give a single fuck.
He will spend the first part of this new relationship in all of the self doubt, because In his mind, this could be a prank or some kind of mistake. But when MC shows him that, no baby girl this isn't a mistake..? Mans here thinks he's died and that MC really is his guardian angel.
He will try to spend what money he has to try and spoil them how he thinks they deserve. He's just really trying his best.
When Frostheim throws their fancy ass balls, Kaito is BEAMING with pride. Yeah, he's on the arm of the best looking person here! Eat it!
And when they dance with him, there is so much internal screaming going on. He's worried he's gonna mess up and make MC look dumb, but with some time he'll loosen up and have some fun.
LUCAS ERRANT "LUCA"
Okay, another one with gossip. But its surprising not about the relationship itself. Its about each individual.
I think Luca and MC have separate fan clubs. I'm sure We've all seen that Luca has fans at the school. an extra attractive MC for sure has one too.
It all started with the two fanclubs talking shit about the other and spreading rumors. Like the usual rumors about cheating, or about how they don't deserve the other, etc.
However, there is a small part in each club that joined forces to try and spread gossip to break them up.
Ofc it doesn't work, Luca and his partner trust each other and do their best to communicate, so it doesn't really effect the happy couple all too much. I mean if you're gonna be subjugating a demon together, there's a LOT of mutual trust going on there.
ALAN MIDO
Alan would be a bit more protective of his partner, because in his experience (*cough cough* LEO *COUGH*) more attractive people, aren't really fighters.
If and when MC manages to prove themselves capable in a fight, he'll back off a little bit, but he'll still be a little protective.
He'd try to do things he thinks MC would like, that he's not the most comfortable with. Like fancier dates, dressing up, going out, etc.
If MC wants to squash that, they gotta do it RIGHT AWAY, since in his mind, they're more attractive so they've gotta like the fancier stuff...right?
SHOHEI HAIZONO "SHO"
Sho is a guy who will take them out for rides on Bonnie (his bike) but he doesn't really care about their appearance.
Sure its a plus and all, but he doesn't care if their hair looks really good today, they're wearing a damn helmet when they go on rides.
He figures MC knows their stuff when it comes to appealing design, so he values their opinion on his project (those who know, know). He takes all their critiques on the chin and does his best to listen.
its still his so he won't let them change it entirely, but he'll for sure keep it in mind.
LEO KUROSAGI
Okay if you think Luca and Jin fans were wildin, Leo's fanclub is WAY worse.
To start off, Leo will do small things with MC. Probably not show their amazing face too much.
It's a mix between wanting to keep things as private as possible and keeping them all to himself.
The internet being the internet, someone eventually got a pic of them together and people figured out that MC was this mysterious partner that Leo has been hiding.
Once the secret is out, he's full on bringing them into his content, like get ready with me's, matching outfit checks, etc.
On the down side, there's a LOT of MC haters out there. Leo typically ignores those comments, he figures their just jealous (of him or MC im not sure)
But if anyone even TRIED to threaten or do his MC. they're done. Their reputation might as well be in the trash. Leo is absolutely not above blackmailing someone to get what he wants so good luck to whoever fucked up that bad.
#tokyo debunker#frostheim#headcanons#Vagastrom#jin kamurai#tokyo debunker headcanons#tohma ishibashi#kaito fuji#luca#lucas errant#alan mido#shohei haizono#sho#leo kurosagi
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Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?
Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds
A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹
Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3
Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!
Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.
Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.
And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)
Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)
Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.
Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.
Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!
The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.
Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".
Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.
"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.
Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it."
"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.
For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."
He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.
He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.
"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”
With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.
Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.
The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.
He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..
No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.
Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."
“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”
“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.
“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”
“Depends. What is it that you desire?”
“How do you make a demigod immortal?”
Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."
"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.
"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.
"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."
Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."
"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.
"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.
The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.
She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.
"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.
You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another."
Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."
"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.
"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."
"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.
Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.
He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.
In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood!
You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.
"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"
"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.
You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!"
He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."
Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.
"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over.
#the trials of apollo#trials of apollo#apollo x you#apollo x reader#pjo apollo#apollo#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#meg mccaffrey#zeus pjo#athena#writers on tumblr#fluff#gender neutral reader#reader insert#lester papadopoulos x reader#lester papadopoulos
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What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)
Part Six
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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment
Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡
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As time marched on and away from the terrible situation that developed during Killer’s birthday, your relationship with Kidd strengthened exponentially. He still hadn’t brought up Victoria by name, but he had mentioned going through really hard periods of loss that changed his life in very significant ways. You didn’t feel like it was appropriate to mention what Hip had told you, however you did feel much better that he wasn’t retaining his feelings any longer. You’d been staying over at his house now more than ever, getting to know Killer better as a consequence.
He and Kidd had both begun making the occasional joke that you should just move in already because you were there so frequently, but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to disturb the steady progression you’d established with such a grandiose change, living with them sounded like a lot of fun, but it just wasn’t the right time. An interesting development was accidentally mentioned to you by Killer that Kidd had started having trouble sleeping when you weren’t around. As to be expected, Kidd flushed several shades of red and denied the allegations while the three of you sat in the living room but later admitted to it when the two of you were comfortably tucked into his bed.
He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it had started or why, but he was certain that the lack of warmth and your weight on top of him had something to do with it. He took every opportunity to tease you and you were absolutely going to use this as material to get back at him, your jokes only leading to giggly kisses and an ever embarrassed brute. He’d even gone as far as to pout and scoot away from you when you baby talked him for being so overtly clingy, the whole thing being unnecessarily dramatic but entertaining. He was unwavering in his determination to give you the silent treatment so you took it upon yourself to explore the contents of his room.
You flipped through several records and discs of his favorite bands, carefully handling those with sleeves or cases that were worn from being played so often. Although you weren’t catching on, he was watching you with eyes full of adoration. Much like yourself, these small moments were some of his favorite. You weren’t all done up or catering to the social aspects of going out, you were just (Y/N) in these moments. Unadulterated and bathed in the essence of yourself, no holds barring your little quirks or the way your eyes lit up as you examined his many random belongings. He had to stop himself from laughing as you attempted to lift a barbell that was sat beside his dresser, he knew there was no way in hell you’d get it off the ground but your look of determination was adorable.
He watched you trail over to his closet, shuffling through the many shirts of heavy metal and punk bands that matched the music collection you’d just gone through. You held many of his favorite shirts up against yourself in front of his mirror, all the while he was envisioning what you’d look like modeling them for him. Vocalizing that you were going to start taking the ones you liked for yourself, the banter that you’d been throwing at him finally caused him to scoff and sit up at the foot of the bed behind you. He pulled you into his lap and peppered light kisses on your neck. You were in the perfect position to watch his movements in the mirror, the scene playing out causing you to become a bit shy. Splotches of red lipstick littered your skin and smudged out of its place on his lips. It wasn’t his intention to be so provocative, but neither of you could deny the intimacy that was overtaking the ambiance of the room.
His hands kneaded at your waist, snaking around your front to occupy the empty space on your thighs. His thumbs moved in circles and drew closer to the waistband of your bottoms with each passing second. You locked eyes with his in the mirror, holding his gaze as he slowly worked a hand beneath your bottoms and to your sex. His motions felt heavenly and had you whimpering for him with your head leant back on his shoulder, mouth slightly agape and eyes screwed shut. He gradually quickened his pace which only added to the pleasure, a sudden lack of warmth from where his free hand rested on your hip caused you to glance back at the mirror. He’d shifted very slightly beneath you, enough to push his own bottoms down and free his hardened cock from its restraints. You watched with wide eyes as he began to pump himself at the same speed he was pleasuring you, nuzzling his head against your own to be as close to you as possible in the moment.
“You like watching this, don’t you?”, he asked through heavy breaths, “You fuckin’ love how I make you feel.”
“Kidd… I-“, you tried to manage through the intense waves of pleasure that were clouding your senses, “You make me feel so good…”
“You can barely speak and you’re panting so hard… You’re about to cum aren’t you?”, he continued spurring you on, his use of such explicit terms causing you to turn your head away from the mirror out of sheer discomposure, “Eyes on me, (Y/N).”
His tone was stern and worked to make you peer back at your own reflection. His motions had become furious around his own member, spilling over the top of his fingers while you held intense eye contact. Beads of sweat reflected off his forehead, highlighting his many scars and the contrast of black liner that emphasized his golden eyes. His gaze had always been sharp, it was one of the first things that you’d noticed when you’d met him after all. Heat pooled in your lower belly, quickly meeting his fingers as you reached your own end. Your body felt weak after such activities, you never wanted to leave the comfort of Kidd’s embrace.
After innumerable moments had passed and your strength had returned, the two of you sauntered to the bathroom for clean up. You both looked rather disheveled in your post-enjoyment states, each of your mouths a messy pink from the exchange of cosmetics that was nearly inevitable in the heat of the moment. Kidd’s eyes were darker and messer than usual as his eyeliner had bled from sweat and squeezing his eyes shut. After several towels and jokes about scarring Killer due to the noise later, you found yourself planted back atop his mattress and glancing at your phones as the two of you received a message at the same time.
Mosh had send out an invite in a group text to everyone in their inner circle about a house party hosted by he and Hip. There was apparently no real occasion, he simply wanted to have everyone together and under the same roof again. You were always happy and grateful to be included with everyone, but you couldn’t deny the anxiety that loomed over your attendance with Kidd after the things Hip had said. It was very unlikely that she’d mention anything about your chat from so many nights ago, but it irked you to consider the thoughts she’d been having about your relationship underneath your time spent in her company. Kidd had offered to drive the two of you, as he usually did, but the timing of the party cut directly into one of your evening shifts at work and you had no choice but to meet him there after the scheduled start of the get-together. It was no big deal to drive separately, but part of you wanted to arrive together with Kidd to show that you were going just as strong as ever.
It felt like there was never a more dynamic pair than the two of you.
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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.
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#kid pirates#one piece#one piece fanfiction#one piece x reader#anime#eustass kid#eustass kid x reader#captain kid x reader#eustass kidd x reader#eustass captain kidd#massacre soldier killer#what you won’t ever find
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omg it's been said before but your autistic Steve series is so good so life affirming so precious to me..... and so I would like to share my own thoughts on the matter...... Steve who did sports bc he had so much excess energy!! and now he gets the zoomies all the time and needs NEEDS to get outside and run around when the weather is nice...... Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask and Robin who says she likes him better without it!!!!.... Steve hyperfixations (feat Steve who reads and frequents the library my beloved, he's so casually curious it just makes sense with his characterization I think)...... Steve full body stimming with Eddie or Robin and feeling amazing!!!!!...... Steve who has set up his space Exactly The Way He Likes It.....
love and light to you ♥️💋🥞🏄🏻
lovely 2jug2head!!! hello!!! ur so sweet!!!
but autistic steve!!! my love!! my guy!!! yesssss!!!! these are all so good! so sweet and lovely and perfect!!! ty for sending me this!!!
(sorry this reply took a little to get too, i've been on my freak shit but finally got few ideas down for u <3)
i think steve would take time learning what stimming and being overstimulated and understimulated means. i think after the upside-down especially, but a lot before that too, he got too used to detaching, kind of separating from his body in order to survive. so now, sometimes, he gets these itches and urges and weird feelings and he just doesn’t know what to do about it. [and i think sport definitely helped him in the past, but i dunno if he would make that connection right away.]
but, he watches robin flap her arms with her sweater sleeves covering her hands. and watches eddie get fucking breathless head banging to a song. he sees robin skip to his car at the end of a shift, looking up at the sky and letting out a 'AHH!' with so so much feeling, cheeks flushed and eyes bright that the day is done, getting in and fiddling with the radio like it’s no big deal. he watches eddie jiggle his leg and bite his rings and stand up and pace when he's talking about something he loves. and steve tries them.
he tries all of them.
he fists his hands and shakes them until something dislodges in his chest, till he can finally take a full breath. he sings loudly along to bruce springsteen and wham in his car in the mornings, sometimes not ever really singing, just making noise. he jumps around his room with robin when she plays blondie, he asks eddie to show him how to head bang, tries it and laughs and kisses him breathless when the song ends. he gives robin his keys and takes off running in a lap around the building after work, sometimes near sprinting, sometimes circling five, six times, going till he's panting and the faces of all the people he had to see that day are washed away, until he can't feel the plastic on his fingers, can't smell the bleach or the too much cologne some guy used. until he's reset, until he's him again, not theirs, not who anyone wants him to be. until he feels good again, lets himself feel good.
sometimes, now, he jiggles his leg the same way eddie does, at the same time, until robin says she has to move 'feel fuckin' seasick over here with you two goblins.' and eddie just laughs. and steve can curl up into his side, if he wants, can pick up eddies hand and bite his rings if he feels like it, eddie would let him, maybe call him cute, wouldn't judge him. neither of them would, if he did that, if he did more. they would never, and its so nice.
<3
["Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask" ;-; that's my fcuking GUY. he would and its so :(( !!!! ]
but yeah, robin would hate that fake plastic smile he puts on to mask sometimes. and she'd tell him, with so much love. 'stop it. show me you.' because she just wants to be with steve.
but she’s so wonderful, he just, she gets it. sometimes things that he didn’t even know were bothering him will build and he’ll snap and rant and moan to finally get it all out. lungs heaving as he empties everything out before her. but she’ll just look at it, and seem to place it all in a way that makes sense, a way that’s small and fits in his pocket. she’ll say ‘woah yeah, that seems like a lot / would be stressful / i’m not surprised you're overwhelmed’ and it’s just. it’s so simple. he’s seen, he’s listened too and validated. it still makes him pause, in stunned silence, and it’s like there’s a plaster placed on his heart with every instance that it happens. sometimes it seems to strike such a chord it's like it's hitting a deep wound that he buried inside, a scab finally healing and falling away. sometimes it makes him sob in her arms, overwhelmed and amazed and so so moved by this person he's met, this wonderful angelic creature that he gets to call his.
the next time he has his super masked, customer service face on when its just the two of them, she threatens to bite him. and steve smiles for real, laughs, feels another plaster sticking over the others.
<3
and steve library frequenter yes yes!! i agree that he is curious and practical and i think a hands on kind of guy! so i think he goes to the library and gets books about cars. i think he likes learning about how to fix his, trying to understand what could go wrong, how it happens, what you do in different scenarios. i think that's something him and eddie and wayne bond over, helping to fix their cars. steve and eddie even work together to do up wayne's van a little, getting it a new bumper and a couple parts scavenged at the junkyard. it's fun for him to work out what's missing, what’s changed, how and why and then putting it into practice. taking something apart and putting it back together. makes him feel proud of himself, something he really doesn't feel often. makes his brain zone in and flow and focus for a couple hours and it just feels so nice, its a happy time for him.
also, speaking of special interests - ✨sport stats✨. steve can name the players of all the basketball teams currently playing professionally, likes watching the tactics shows that come on before and after the games. likes talking at eddie and explaining why its actually really cool that they swapped out that player to give this new guy a chance, he's big news, a young up and comer and has a really interesting play style, its gonna work well with how their current manger organises the court. and eddie just smiles at him, squeezing steves hand in his lap and trying to understand what he sees on screen, follow along (he struggles to take in all the information, it's just not his thing. but it makes him so happy when he watches steve watch.) and steves happy little keens when something interesting happens, mindlessly fiddling with eddie’s fingers and tapping his other hands fingers against his knee, 1, 2, 3, 2, 4, 2. relaxed and focused and sometimes he rocks when it gets really tense and eddies heart bursts.
because it wasn't always like that, it was a struggle and a near pleading for eddie to just get steve to tell him what he likes, talk to him, get to know him. to just let eddie in. because eddie wanted to know everything and steve just didn't know how to deal with that. why would eddie care? no one ever listens to him. he's embarrassing and annoying and gets to loud and eddie doesn't like sports so why would steve tell him anything? it took soft words and gentle encouragement and reassurance again and again that he's listening, he wants to listen, wants to know. 'always, always wanna listen to what you have to say stevie.' so when steve comes over to the trailer after work, talking about the latest switch they announced in the paper, how last nights points shifted the league around and now he doesn't even know who's going to win, isn't that cool? eddie fucking beams because this is his boy. his bright, beautiful, exited baby and he’s talking to eddie, he's letting eddie see him.
<3
steve and his space though. thinking very much about that. he doesn’t have the strictest schedule, he’s learning that sometimes its okay to leave the sheets for another couple days, that the dust can settle for another week before he needs to wipe it away. but some things are just, they just have to be right. he needs to know where things are, needs the important stuff in the same place every day so he doesn't forget. needs his products in the bathroom out and in order so he can keep track of when something needs replacing, so he's not left without something he needs. wants this one specific pillow at night, and one for between his knees and a duvet on year round, needs it to feel warm and safe and right in his bed.
and his clothes, its not even about the sensory stuff for him, like yeah most of his tops are soft, his jeans pretty worn in. he has some really old sweatshirts that are special, that come out on the worst days. but it's also about how clothes look, how they make him feel. he want his jeans to fit right, sit right on his shoes. wants his shirts to make his shoulders look nice, make him feel comfortable and confident and like a normal fucking person who can exist in the world. its another part of the mask, maybe. but it works and its his and most of the time he thinks he looks good. and that's okay. he's learning and its healthy and its practical and it helps.
but he also adores wearing eddies t-shirts. when he's at home all day or to sleep at night. especially if eddies not there, when steve misses him, when he wants him. steve wears eddies t-shirts to bed. they're all ones eddies left after staying, they're old and soft and the tags have been cut out and they smell like eddie. like his eddie. like he's there. steve loves it, wraps himself up in it, helps him feel soothed and taken care of even if he's alone, maybe its a little sad, makes him feel embarrassed, too much. but he's learning not to care.
sometimes eddie talks to him and touches him in a certain special way that makes steve feel so so foggy and taken care of and amazing. so, if eddie's not there but he craves that foggy feeling, steve wears eddies t-shirts and he speaks to himself like eddie would and he makes himself dinner and looks after himself and tucks himself into bed and rubs the fabric of the collar against his nose. and tries not to feel embarrassed if he needs more, if he has to suck on his fingers/thumb for a while, clutching the fabric in his hand. tries to let himself whimper or even cry a little if he needs, at how nice it feels, how gooey and needy he can allow himself to get. accept it as part of himself, that eddie likes it, still likes him, still loves him. just something he needs sometimes. and steve falls asleep, wearing eddies t-shirt.
<3
gonna tag a few people who might want to see, hope that's okay? wanna spread him around and show him off!! look at him!!! our best guy!!!
@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @cherrychapsticksteve @lil-gremlin-things @finntheehumaneater @irethsune
#this was nice to wriite#ive missed him#my most special boy#autistic steve harrington#and as always#autistic robin buckley#autistic eddie munson#but this is about steve#my love#hotlunch#ask#ideas#steddie#stobin#<3#also a little bit of sub steve at the end there#but like - its just one little part of him - one little part of their relationship#so ye#also having stuff on/in ur mouth can hit big time as a stim and im not sexualising that here#just so u know#its just something nice he can do for himself
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thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect
#home: *struggling with suddenly having a body*#wally: FINALLY! THE STUDENT HAS BECOME THE TEACHER! THIS IS MY MOMENT!#i just think he'd really enjoy being the one Informing#hed be so proud of himself huh...#preening after telling home all about how to be a Person and then he turns around and asks barnaby what cheese is#hes doing his best.#and like... i dont think home has nearly as much to learn?#its mostly based in the physical aspect of existence#idk for some reason i see him as kind of the neighborhoods father figure??#a very eccentric father figure. father/brother/guardian figure#but anyway mostly wallys 'teachings' has to do with like... how to control his strength. how to keep his balance. how to Do Things#once homes got it he is On Top Of Things#scribble salad#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#hm. am i about to make a little doc for the puppet!home that only exists in my head and in my lil scribbles#Yes! i Am!#boutta jot down his personality and relationships and blah blah blah#also: part (insert number here) of me being Entirely Unable To Draw Wally Consistently#i drew these wallys right after each other. back to back.#it looks like two entirely different styles lmfao
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Ouhhhh friendship I love friendship……..
#I’m reading volumes 14-16 of the ouran manga OOUGHHH MY HEART#I love this weird little friend group so much its unreal#like u have this charming sweeps you off your feet prince but he’s actually a huge lovable idiot with a kind heart and his friends#who are all misfits that he reached out to and drew in because of his kindness and own weirdness like that shits TIGHT BRO#and the trauma part where he has some deep seated issues with love bc he thinks that itll break a family apart like with his mom#how his family isnt allowed to be together because his mom and dad fell in love and how he says he wants to build a big house#so that way one day everyone will get along as a family like. all he wants is not to lose everyone and the only way to do that is#by maintaining a certain order.. he both wants a complete family so bad and doesnt want anything to sour between anyone#so he assigns each of his friends a family role based on how he sees them and YEAH its mostly played for giggles and tamakis#already weird so its his way of showing theyre close to him but. god damn this boy has LAYERS#it also feels kinda meta towards how found family tends to get thrown around to assign characters as 'siblings' or family roles instead of#using it to describe characters who are close enough to be each others family. cuz tamakis doing that EXACT THING in a way tht#ties in with his character and i have to say its fascinating using that within the story itself and its completely plausible#theres a lot of things i can say about ouran that are good bad and questionable but. god i love it when characters are niceys to each other#i remember i really liked the kyoya episode bc him and haruhi got to spend time together and their relationship isnt very close#but it was really nice to see their personalities bounce off each other. i think i also wouldve liked to see haruhi alone with kaoru#i also firmly believe all of the hosts are at least a little in love with haruhi and this can be anything like endearing romantic cuz like#who DOESNT love haruhi. kyoya i think would want to study her under a microscope like his fascination with her draws him in#but im fucking obsessed with whatever haruhi and tamaki have going on because YES hes obsessed with her YES he jumps at the chance to#put her in a cute costume but haruhi? she just fucking goes with it because she knows hes fun to be around even if hes a little wacky abt i#theyre all so. NNGGHHHH#ouran#ohshc#yapping
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If you could have any Asmo/reader fic what would be the things you would want from it? like an ideal fic would contain what tropes or AUS or situations or whatever
uhmm anything wellwritten that characterizes asmo similar to the way i do ! i rlly like character exploration , both more serious stuff & just sillycute...anything where asmo is a little cunning and toxic and also gets railed into oblivion.anything where hes a vampire. ill write a tag essay about the specifics
#xreaders are too unrelatable for me usually .. im aroace and the only relationship dynamics that r rlly interesting to me r likee#toxic or tumultuous...i think in many asmo fics hes just very one note or like not a complex love interest .which is fine because hes like#that in the game but i am especially drawn to fics where the author has their own kind of unique take on it. nuance. etc#it's really interesting to see situations in which asmo kind of reaps the consequences of shitty behavior or struggles with parts of himsel#f he doesnt like. not just in like ohhh im insecure sobsob but like deeprooted issues & patterns thought processes that come with being a d#demon that maybe clash with human morality or ideals...like what if he sees human lives as generally more disposable because hes lived for#so long?? what would a fic be like about him wanting a fling with a human that ends up taking apart their life but to him its just a fun#little romance without any real consequences or commitment?? even if he was obsessed w them professing his undying love etc etc he could ge#t bored and drop it anytime and outlive them by millions of years and forget...& how does a human love an entity like that? how could the r#relationship look anything close to normal ever...anyway i like fics that touch on questions like this theyre kind of rare though#this all being said i def dont think asmo is completely evil💭 nuance#at work so im literally just wasting time by thinking about this rn but this was like the asmotoni dynamic its too interesting to me#asmotoni is like this in my head but on papwr i just draw them fucking witj bunny ears sorry#this doesnt even answer ur question really. if i could write a fic rn it would be like 200k word emo band au that isnt xreader or a romance#fic it would just be asmo beel belphie as humans starting a band and their rise and fall etc ive been thinking abt that plot nonstop
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#i will warn you only once: tsc spoilers#literally just finished it as i am drafting this its 5am where i live#so you may be subjected to some nonsense#that all being said i have thoughts.and feelings#the kevin was lovely and tasted delicious! jean defending him at every turn even when he swears to hell and back he'll kick his ass#the kevjean was surprising i was only half expecting that#the dog metaphors i have to say i need this one cashed in. nora run me my check#im joking of course dont quote me on it#jean taking kevins promise to the end and living on it is seriously so. well.#'be careful with him' 'take kevin's name out of your ignorant mouth' 'you promised me'#also kevin getting called the court's queen had me tender and on my back oml#jean's relationship with the trojans is sweet and he is very interesting and complicated#a character with many moving parts im sure#there were a few things i did not care for#namely jeremy and the trojans felt remarkably flat to me bar lucas (by far the most interesting) and catalina on occasion#i didnt quite enjoy jeremy's pov and felt like he spent perhaps way too much time worrying over jean? if that makes sense#i wish he had some more complexity to him or really anything to catch a hook on#all we know is hes attractive and smiley and gets along terribly with his family#so much of his character is sucked out by jean he didnt feel like much more than a plot device to me#which i wouldnt mind if jeremy wasnt the literal main character alongside jean#i was living for everything jean thought but had to drag myself through jeremy's pov if im honest#uuuuh what else. neil! funny. deranged. i have to love him#andrew couldnt give less of a fuck about jean which is funny as all fuck#two bugs placed in the same habitat ignoring each other#the thing with elodie i thought was complicated. i wish we knew some more about her or that shed been mentioned a little earlier#but im assuming thats a topic to be revisited#uuuuuuuh yeah so thats most of it. i think my first thought and the one that sticked out the most to me is that the book felt remarkably#pedestrian#not necessarily in a bad way#it lacked to me one of the main appeals of aftg which were the numerous interesting side characters
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one of my favorite things about doctor who is that, by necessity from the ever-rotating cast of companions and the doctor’s own changing face, you could never possibly argue that there’s one single pairing for the doctor to get with that would be the True One For Them. they’ve lived too long, loved too much, for it to ever be just one person.
#for one: it’s poly central up in here. but beyond that: it’s just written into who they are as a character. the doctor loves and loses and#loves again.#and its hardly a thing reserved to him. a big part of jack’s whole deal is that he does fall in love so easily and so often and he remembers#got little tidbits of all his ex-boyfriends stored away in memory and yet. that long and growing line of lovers never once is presented as a#reason that him and ianto aren’t special. of course they are. they all are.#doctor who is not a show that can say ‘you will find your one true love and that’s it forever.’ it doesn’t work like that.#the closest you get! is amy and rory! and their relationship is also defined by both of their trust and love for the doctor. he’s the third#part of them! their relationships don’t lessen each other but make each one stronger!#if that makes sense.#‘who is the doctor’s true love: rose - river - that girl from thirteen. yaz? i think? - the master lol - a classic who companion i don’t#even know about - the tardis herself - ….k9? - etc.?’ WRONG. INCORRECT ASSUMPTION IN YOUR QUESTION.#its all of them forever.#doctor who
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i made this a few months ago for a discord and i figured i might as well share it here too
#loz#legend of zelda#phantom hourglass#bellum#bellum is kind of a nothing villain but i like him#this image is basically the framework for how i write bellum's relationship with linebeck a lot of the time#the severity and seriousness of 'ruined your life' varies between aus n shit#ironically post-ph is one of the ones where 'ruined your life' is a bit hyperbolic#im in a talkative mood rn so im gonna have a little tag tangent going on#bellum is fun and like with this image you can take him many different ways depending on your own tastes and readings n stuff#recently i pinpointed some character i mightve accidentally based my take of bellum on and it escapes me rn#but i like to have him come off as a sort of brash young god sort of thing whos been very gung-ho about what hes been created to do and#represent and ive def leaned into him acting differently in different aus but backing it up with the idea that. hes immortal and thinks its#fun to try different things hwne he earnestly interacts with and among mortals. like in my crimson king au (the uh. one where he has a#homoerotic relationship with linebeck) his purpose behind masquerading as human and settling for a decidedly slower and more complicated#method of obtaining food and taking control is because he wants to challenge himself after years of just smashing through and taking what h#wants and because hes more interested in the more minute details of mortal interaction and how he could play along for a while#hes a bit more... whimsical? laid-back? something for the most part with linebeck because he's used to being a fuckin demonic god whos#mostly just playing around and not making attachments bc fuck it if he gets bored he can just eat these people and this one guy gets his#mercy and support because he's interesting and useful as a tool (and eventually as a source of genuine friendship. a common theme i seem to#have with bellum [perhaps as an accidental parallel or smth to the spirits n oshus] is him stumbling into finally understanding why#relationships are worth it? like a lot of the time his interactions with linebeck give him a new understanding of humans and he learns to#care about linebeck despite starting off seeing him as just an interested subject to watch or tinker with idk how to describe it#like in post-ph [ig post ph spoilers] as the fourth member of the main cast his main arc is abt kinda being forced to mingle with mortals#and ends up really caring and supporting these people and considering his own role and place in the world after kind of isolating and#surrounding himself with effectively a literal hivemind and loyal monsters and just reacting to outside forces with the intent to consume#and eradicate all danger so ig theres some parallel with linebeck too? bellum is a work in progress he's kinda a weird oc at this point?#when does an existing character stop being that and starts becoming an oc idk. its a weird line here bc bellum has minimal characterization#) anyways. funny meme or whatever. the discord seemed to like it im not used to sharing memes or whatever.#my post
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