#is this about the earrings post? i assume anon was like 'lets look at his other posts to see if there's anything else i can make fun of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eustasskidagenda · 7 months

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anon asked: Hi, fellow Kid-Stan, I love your writing, it's so well-written! So I hope my request isn't too weird, but would you mind writing some headcanons with a fem reader afraid of having sex with Kidd, Zoro, Law and Sanji if that's okay. Like because the reader is stressed about getting hurt (maybe because of their size or because it’s been a long time since the last time the reader had sex, no heavy topic involved!) Thank you if you consider writing this scenario and please, can I stay anon if you post this?

Hello, dear anon! Thank you for requesting and your kind words, it was interesting to think about how those dummies would act in this situation. I hope you'll like the result.♡

☆Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW : n/sfw, MDNI, f!reader, size kink, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), v. sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, dirty talk, praises, Sanji talking in French because I could die for this, Kid is cursing as always, let me know if I forgot something

WC : around 2,000

You can read the part two here & the part three here

Kid

Let's assume it's your first time in the same bed: Kid being... Kid, his first reaction would be to grin cockily or even laugh proudly. He thinks you're actually praising him for his size. Please keep going, it’s music to his ears. He loves praises and when you acknowledge his size. It fuels his ego tremendously. "I know it's big, that's enough praise. Wait, were you talking seriously?"

Seriously, Kid, ugh.

So, once he realized you're not praising him but rather really stressed, he's still pleased with himself.

Kid is a man of action; talking, trying to understand, or reassuring is not something he's easily able to do. Because honestly, he would just say something like "it's just sex, I'm not gonna hurt ya, look how wet you are"

Whenever there's a problem, he's more inclined to take action to find a solution. So his first reaction is to ask if you want to stop. Although he may be cocky and carefree, he would never cause harm to anyone he truly cares about. And no one will have a good time if you're too stressed. Totally pointless.

So you have to tell him you want to continue, but you're nervous because Kid is not the one to indulge into sweetness and his size doesn't make things more easily.

"Then, come get what you want by yourself" he would say before laying on his back, his cock twitching impatiently. Kid doesn't often let his partner ride him, except when he's feeling tired. His body is truly a beautiful throne to sit on. A toned and beautiful body, covered with scars, like war paint, full of stories and secrets.

Once you finally straddle him, he would hold your hips firmly as you line your wet pussy up to his cockhead. When you slowly impale yourself on his thick member, he would let out a low, animalistic growl of satisfaction. You feel too tight around him, and you feel too full with him buried deep inside you, stretching your walls.

He would guide you down his cock until his balls deep inside you. The expression of pure delight on his face is truly mesmerizing. Riding someone as tough and impressive is quite intimidating, so he would hold your hips, helping you to move up and down, as you slowly adjust to him. "Fuck, look at you, taking me all the way in like the good girl you're"

He feels your walls tightening him as you start to move faster.

"Take it easy" That's the moment you will hear his shaky breath and deep growls. He can't handle how good you feel. So wet, so hot, so tight as you walls spasms around him. His cock is throbbing inside you and he grit his teeth, holding your hips that firmly it will leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

He's truly trying his best to not just hold your hips and slams inside you as his usual rough and merciless pace. He wants to transform you into a whiny mess.

"Shit, y/n, let me fuck you."

And once you finally get used to him, then prepare yourself for the wildest ride of your life. You better hold onto those sheets tightly. Because he will slap your ass, pull on your hair and fuck you with enough intensity to leave you breathless and exhausted.

Zoro

Zoro has not a lot of experience because he's way too focused on his goal of becoming the greatest swordsman ever. Even when it comes to sex, he's a bit oblivious. So you better have to be precise and explain things correctly, so that it takes over his mind. As Kid, he's not a man of many words, he doesn't really know how to reassure you. Like, okay, it's been a while since the last time you had sex, but the same applies to him. At least you're in the same situation, isn't that nice?

He's trying his best.

Once he's sure you want to keep going, he will consider the whole thing like a training: everyone needs a good warm-up. So prepare yourself to have your pussy eat for a long, long time and to cum at least once against his lips. He may not be the most experienced, but he learns quickly and your body language is like talking to him.

He would then slowly push two fingers inside you, feeling how wet you are for him. "Looks like my girl is ready for me, yeah?"

Try not to be too embarrassed when he hungrily licks his fingers covered in your wetness, like if it were a precious cup of sake. The way your body looks and tastes is truly intoxicating. How could he get enough of your shivering, moaning, sweating, begging, and slow pleads when his head is buried between your thighs?

"Now open your legs for me"

Eyes darkening with lust as he sees your folds exposed, his cock twitching and throbbing. Although he is thick, he never realized it. So you better prepare yourself.

He would look into your eyes just to be sure you're still willing, before placing his hands on your shoulders to pinning you down the mattress, shifting his weight so he can position himself at your entrance.

Thrust forward, filling you up in one swift motion. He's completely focused, as if it's an important battle. And actually, he's really struggling to stay nice and slow for you. He's quiet. Breathe deeply and make low grunts close to your ear. When you begin to scratch his back, he becomes confused. Why are you doing this? Does it hurt or feel good? "You doing okay?"

If you tell him you need more now, he will give it to you as hard as you want.

"Such a brave girl"

Law

As a good doctor, his first reaction is to understand the cause of the problem. Is it a physical or psychological problem? Sex can be painful if you're experiencing too much stress or vaginismus. If he wants to help you feel better, he needs to understand what's going on. He’s a logical man, he can't act without a good understanding of what's happening.

He would probably cover your body too, in order to preserve your intimacy while you explain him you're just a bit stressed because it's been a long time and you often face pain when it comes to sex.

"Sex isn't supposed to hurt or to be stressful. Do you want to continue?"

As you slowly nodded, he would kiss your forehead and then slowly remove the bedsheets, revealing your bare body to himself.

He wants to reassure you even if he struggles with intimacy, including in the bedroom. He's not that kind of guy having sex with random people. If you end up in the same bed, it's because he genuinely cares about you. And damn, he definitely knows how to take care of your body too. He has divine hands. Good to heal, but also to help you reach new heights. The way he runs his hands along your body, your inner thighs, your pussy, and then your clit causes shivers down your spine.

And when he slides two fingers inside your core, damn, the only thing you can do is arches your back and beg for more. He’s the king of fingering. You can't help but cum as his thumb circles your clit while he pushes his long fingers in and out of you. When he removes them, his tattoos are soaked with your wetness, you are flustered, and he's content with himself. He can't help but grins, licking his fingers while watching your reaction closely. Even in bed, Law likes to tease you.

"Need me so bad, y/n-a?" with a slight pinch on your nipple

He's a doctor, so he will wear a condom. Even if you're wet, he'll reach for the bottle of lubricant and then sloshing some onto his palm before smearing it over his length. The emo boy myth is true because his cock is long.

Usually, Law struggles with eye contact, it's too intimate for his sake. But for once, he will let you lie on your back, spreading your thighs enough to fit in between. His tattooed chest slowly rises up with each breath, making him look beautiful over you.

"You're ready?"

He's a smart and careful person, so he'll go slowly and check your expression to ensure you're alright. He feels the tightness around his cock. So wet, so hot. His hands are shaking on your hips while he gently steady you. "Everything's fine?"

Slow and deep strokes as you trace the tattoos on his arms and chest. With his lips sealed to yours, he swallows all of your moans. And his low, deep breaths are leaving you in shambles.

Sanji

Oh, sweet Sanji. Similar to Zoro, he's not the most experienced, but he has a kind and compassionate soul. He would let you explain yourself, running his hands all over your shoulders, hair and stomach, trying to soothe you as you confess you're scared because it's been a while since the last time you had sex.

Sanji would never judge you. He would offer you sweet kisses to cover your body, promising to take things at your own pace. And if you need to stop, please just tell him. He would try his best to hide that he's a bit nervous too; nervous about hurting you or not being good enough for you.

Gentle kisses on your neck, breasts, lower stomach, inner thighs, and hands running all over your skin, fondling your breasts softly with a heavenly touch. He wants to take good care of every inch of your skin because your body is so precious, perfect and beautiful. All your shivering, moaning, and the way you look at him with pure love on your face... it melts his heart. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he'll never rush the whole thing. Like a good meal, sex deserves to be appreciated.

Probably the king of oral sex, he could keep his head burring between your thighs for the entire day and still can't get enough of how good you pussy feel and taste. He is fond of eating you out, hearing you moan, feeling you shivering and beg for more. The way your body is arching, how you grab his hair, pressing his lips more firmly against your wet folds. Not only do his hands know how to cook, but they also know how to please your body. Slowly circling your clit, fondling your breasts, and caring for every inch of your skin, making you melt and beg for more. You forgot you were tensed and stressed with all his attention.

Sanji being Sanji, he would love to bind your wrists with his tie, but he knows it's not the time for this. "I need to be inside you, mon amour" (my love) His cock is painfully hard and twitching, leaking in pre-cum.

As you spread your legs, letting him know that you're ready for more, Sanji would try his best to hide how stressed he really is. He doesn't want to hurt you. Fingers entwined with yours, a lot of eye contact as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. "Shh, it's okay. You're so tight. Laisse-moi te faire l'amour" (let me make love to you)

You softly moan as he penetrates you completely. You were stressed about getting hurt after such a long time without having sex, but Sanji is so soft that it didn't hurt even a bit. Even if you're relaxed, he would ask, "Am I hurting you?" And when you confirm that everything is more than fine, he can't help but sigh in relief. His fingers are still entwined with yours as you use your other hand to softly pull on his hair.

Slow and deep strokes. "C'est si bon d'être en toi" (it feels so good to be inside you) He is not ashamed of moaning. Moans that are really pretty. The feeling of your skin against his, how wet and welcoming you are inside. This is too much for him to handle.

Naturally, when it came to aftercare, he would rush to the kitchen to make you a good meal.

Sanji is so sweet please, help.

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motherraid · 20 days

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I can’t find any rules so if your uncomfortable plz feel free to ignore this but I recently found out that when a afab person sits on someone else lap, they can feel the *throb™*

So I’m currently thinking what would Sebek do if during the Masquerade s/o fem!reader ended up sitting on his lap and he felt the throb. What would he do? Would he get hard or would he wonder what it is?

Can I be ✨🎀 anon plz? If you do those kinds of anon thingies lol

Omg of course???!?!?! It's been so long since I've taken an ask from a named anon what you're so nice 😭😭😭

AND YOU HAD TO PULL A SCENARIO FROM MY FAVORITE EVENT TOO ILY

((Grinding, manipulation/gaslighting(??), boners (lol), slight exhibitionism(?? If you squint i think) more big boy words and can't really think or anything else as a description, IM SORRYYY I NEED CHARACTER EXAGGERATION IT'S AN ADDICTION))

Well, well. Back to lap sitting. It seems you all have a certain taste.

Boring answer is he feels it, gets embarrassed, and asks you to get up before he even begins to feel anything. He'd probably offer you his seat and walk off to find another seat he can sit down in. He's red faced, but that's it.

Fun answer?

I believe that Sebek WILL know where it's coming from. I'm sure he has some knowledge in sex ed or smth and if he doesn't, he's still very smart. He can make the connection and what was causing it easily. And when he looks up at you in concealed confusion, he can tell by your nonchalant expression that you aren't doing it on purpose. He assumes it's a natural thing that you shouldn't be ashamed of. So, by that logic, if you feel something hardening under your ass, surely you can understand that it's just natural, right? It's nothing to freak out over, I mean, who wouldn't get hard when there's such a darling sitting in his lap?

And who could possibly have known that something as simple as a pulse could be so alluring?

I mean, if we're talking sweet ol classic Sebek, he'd probably be aaaaabsolutely mortified. His immediate reaction would be to politely tap you on the shoulder and ask you (in the quietest voice he's ever had in his life) to stand so he can use the restroom. He won't even make it to full erection by the time he's flown from the room lol. And as soon as he makes it into semi-privacy, you won't see him for a good while. Well, at least until he can either will his erection to die or pathetically rub one out in a restroom stall like a loser (lmao). Most likely the former. His pride wouldn't allow him to do something so humiliating. If someone heard or caught him whimpering while he spazzes with his dick in his hand mid orgasm he'd truly never show his face in public again.

If you two are in a relationship then maybe he won't be so quick to run away and pitifully consider jacking off to the feeling of you throbbing in his lap- wishing he could feel your throbbing while deliciously stretched around his dick and welcoming every inch deeper into your warm cunt until either he runs out of inches or you run out of space.

No, no. He may just steadily place both hands on each of your thighs and bury his face into the back of your shoulder. Or the crook of your neck depending on how tall you are.

("Please... Just stay here for a moment. I swear that I'll let you up soon.. But for now I need you to stay put... and try not to move too much." )

And uhm.. Mk so you know it's not a Duke post without some sort or freak in there, and I just can not write something without going feral about it and the only way I can go feral about it is if I exaggerate his character so PERVY SEBEK

So if you somehow had managed to sit down in his lap and he feels his zipper area becoming a bit uncomfortable, you'd better have a strong will. The absolute degrading filth this boy will spew into your ears will either have you grinding into his crotch and begging him for more or trying to muffle your hurt/confused sobs. Best believe he ain't going nowhere, and neither are you for your little stunt. Sure, you may not have been intentionally trying to arouse him, but you are the one who insisted on using him as a seat when there are plenty of places to rest. That must have been what you wanted, huh? To see him all red faced and bothered? You probably like seeing him breaking a sweat, lip between his teeth and digging his digits into the underside of the seat. You must loove making him horny. It's like you get a kick out of it. Is it funny for you? To see him in agony?

Well, two can play at that game. Don't even bother acting surprised when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight to his chest. He might wait for a person or two to pass out of view before his tongue sneaks a quick swipe against your earlobe. His breath is heavy on your neck while he nuzzles his face into your hair. Thank the Seven for the loud(ish) music echoing off the walls, or else anyone a good few feet from you would be able to hear him groaning in your ear. All while one of his hands slowly slides towards the inside of your thigh and gives it a good squeeze.

And don't even think about saying anything. It's all your fault, you know. You just casually decide to sit in a guys lap and act surprised when he gets hard? Just like your enticing second heartbeat, an erection is something that can not be helped sometimes. They can happen anywhere, and every guy can agree to that. So what will it look like when you purposefully sit in his lap, throbbing against his thigh with your ass sat firmly against his crotch? Did you forget you're in a school of boys? They'd understand him in a heartbeat. Some may even say you did it on purpose. You'll only embarrass yourself. So stay still, stay inconspicuous, and stay silent.

Let's be honest, though. He's hanging on by a thread. He's just so embarrassed that you've managed to get him this vulnerable and he's taking that out on you. You feel so warm and smell soo good. It's taking every ounce of restraint to hide his gasps and grunts from the spread crowd around you both. Trust they can't be concealed from you, though. You can hear everything. Not to mention feel everything. It's impossible to ignore him spreading his legs a bit and slowly rolling his hips into you.

If he's miserable and desperate, he'll make you feel even worse. Unless you'd rather sneak away and give him the blow job he deserves for putting up with you. Lend him you pussy for a while and he might even spare you a lecture about public decency once this trip is over. (How hypocritical.)

And he's lying. Of course you'll be getting properly disciplined when this is all over. A hands-on lecture is a must. Best not to worry about that now, though. Just enjoy the moment. He sure is.

("I should have known better than to humor you. To think I actually believed you might have been behaving decently for once.")

#sebek smut #sebek zigvolt smut #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #✨️🎀 anon #I'M NOT MAIN TAGGING THIS I'M TOO EMBARRASSED #Rambles I'm too lazy to reread and edit

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arden-au · 1 year

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hey! I don't know English but I would like to see if you could write a enha reaction when they’re partner gets hurt in training (like knee or back) and doesn't tell them until they realize it themselves, I hope you understand me 🥺 Thank you you xoxo

━━ when you get hurt

enhypen x reader | fluff

a/n: hi anon! tysm for requesting, hopefully i met your request with this writing (and thank you for waiting <3). to preface, most of these injuries are not major [at least in how i describe them hopefully]. this is also my post to celebrate 200 followers! thank you again for coming to my blog and reading, i wish i could give all of you a big hug but for now this will do :)

heeseung:

he glances over at the clock, wondering why you were taking longer than usual to come from volleyball practice tonight. he checks his phone for any messages, frowning when you didn't reply to his latest text or the last funny photo he sent. as he brings his phone to his ear to call you, he hears the door open. he perks up and stands to greet you with a smile on his features, though his face falls into a soft frown as he notices your face scrunching in pain as you rub your shoulder. "(y/n)? everything okay?" he questions, head tilting as you avoid his gaze. "i think i may have overdid it" you attempt to laugh to lightening the conversation but heeseung's knowing look says otherwise. heeseung takes your bags despite your protests as he heads towards the shared bedroom. "right, i'll go run you a bath and we can order takeout while you take it easy yeah?" he suggests after a moment of silence, throwing you a reassuring smile over his shoulder as you follow after him. you scratch the back of your head bashfully, wondering how he was so nonchalant with his words and actions. "thank you hee" "anything for you (y/n)"

jay:

it was a minor injury, a scrap on your knee from tripping during training. you were sent home early to rest after getting checked by the school's nurse, waving your friends' attempts to help you home. it was a bit difficult walking home, your nose scrunching in pain ever so often but your pride didn't let you ask for help from your friends. maybe you should've waited a bit but you were hoping to beat jay coming from school so you could hide the injury from him. he'll have to be okay with the abrupt text messages letting him know you went home early and that you two couldn't walk home together. it wasn't too bad, at least nothing some aspirin and relaxing couldn't fix. you dropped to the couch with a huff, cooing over the scrape. you leaned back, scroll through your phone to see if jay replied. as you hear a knock at the door, your eyebrows furrow at the sound. you didn't order anything recently, did you? confused you make your way towards the door. though the confusion changes to surprise as you meet jay's eyes, watching as he catches his breath from what you assume him running to get here. "jay? i thought i said i was studying?-" "your friends told me what happened, are you okay? does it hurt? did you get some treatment for it-" jay speaks a mile a minute, his hands cupping your checks and pinching them slightly. you laugh and lean into his touch, jay sighing in half relief and exhaustion. he means well, even when his heart is about to burst out of his chest.

jake:

jake insisted on tagging along to your basketball practice, excitingly declaring he would cheer the loudest (though it was met with you reminding him that it's just a practice game, but you appreciate the sentiment). the game was in favour of your team and jake's cheers could be heard from the bleachers. as you go for a layup towards the end of the game, you accidently bump into one of the other team's members. thankfully you land on your feet, though you wince as you feel a slight sting in your ribcage. the game ends with your teams victory, and you head back to the bench while rubbing where you got elbowed. it would be safe to say you forgot jake presence while wondering how you'd get an ice pack from the nurse's office. that is until an ice pack appears in front of you. you look up, meeting his eyes as he nudges the ice pack towards you. "that was a great shot (y/n)" he smiles, taking a seat beside you. you thank him as you feel your cheeks warm before pressing the cold pack towards your chest. he looks around before leaning in close to your ear, "so is this the part where I carry you out like in the movies?" "if you do that i won't talk to you for a week" "so no?" he questions with a innocent pout, holding back the urge to do so anyways.

sunghoon:

you swore he was asleep, so you didn't think much as you walk with more pressure on your non-injured foot as you sneak out of the bedroom while he naps. though as you return with a glass of water in hand, you meet his sleepy gaze looking at you from the doorframe. you're silent at first, brushing it off thinking he was probably still dazed from sleep as you head towards the bed. you feel his arms curl around your lower waist and his head resting in your shoulder blade as you lay beside him. hearing the soft buzz of the heater filled the room you sigh, did he go back to sleep? you think of what to say, wondering to even mention it because you're sure he wasn't awake enough. "something happen today love?" he mumbles, sleep still evident in his voice as he traces shapes into your back. you know he does this when he wants you to speak, and would wait as long as need be. "i tried defending the ball during the practice match today and twisted my ankle" you whisper, sunghoon only humming in response. "i won't be going to training for the next week or two, but i'll be going to the doctor in the next few days" you finish, feeling relieved to be able to tell him. there's a beat of silence between you two as he sighs in relief, glad you were taking it easy (it would be easy to surprise you with the days he got off from work). "that's good, do you mind if i tag along?" "i'd like that a lot sunghoon" he hums, satisfied with your response as he returns back to his sweet nap.

sunoo:

sunoo thought it would be fun to surprise you at your basketball practice and pick you up, his work ending early and he happily brought a cold drink for you as a treat. he walks along the sidelines as he observes the ending of your practice. scanning through the team to find you as he hums along to the song playing through his earbuds. though he almost drops the drinks as he watches you attempt to block the ball from the other team which results in you falling onto your back quite roughly. the coach quickly pauses the practice game, sunoo worryingly watching as your teammates bring you to the benches. he makes his way over, ignoring your surprised face as you realize he's in front of you. "are you okay (y/n)?" "sunoo?" "yes it's me, do you want me to call an ambulance? or maybe-" he reaches for his phone, though it stops short as you reach for his wrist. "i'll be fine sunoo, i'll just sit down for now" you promise, hopeful smile on your features as you pat a spot beside him. he indulges, handing you the drink and patting your head with a sigh of relief. you beginning to talk to him about how you score a few points in the first two quarters of the game, sunoo nodding along as he rubbed your lower back while happily listening.

jungwon:

i think jungwon would be the most preceptive, even if you try to pretend you're fine. he wouldn't say anything at first, silently observing as you limp into the doorway of the shared bedroom after training one night. you were glad he wasn't home early (at least to your knowledge) the days following were met with your fake smiles and lighter steps around him. you are quick to dismiss any of his comments, gritting your teeth when you attempt to rest your weight on the swollen ankle. jungwon frowns to himself, a little upset you weren't being a bit open with your injury with him. though it's hard to be silent as he catches you icing your ankle a few days later in the living room, observing your eyes widening as you stutter out an explanation to him. you stare at each other's for a few moments. he sighs as he walks towards you, "just let me take care of you from to time (y/n)" jungwon positions your legs over his lap as he looks over your swollen ankle with another word, proding about to see the extent of your injury in a closer look while taking the ice pack from you. you shyly scratch the back of your head as you thank him, leaning on his shoulder with a small smile. he looks at you with a smile, though the worry in his eyes wouldn't leave. i guess you could depend on him a bit more, just a little bit.

niki:

niki smiles wickedly, tickling your sides as he leans over you on his bed. you thrash and push his hands away, "niki stop already i promise not to eat the last slice of pizza next time!" you laugh, though it stops short when you feel your lower back sting. you wince and niki immediately lets go, observing your face as he gets off you. "(y/n)?" he whispers, worrying eyes meeting yours at the thought that he went too far stirs in his mind. "no niki it's not you i just-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to blurt out what happened to you during practice recently. he raises his eyebrow. "you just?" he questions slowly, his hands reaching for yours and lacing his fingers with them. he leans incredibly close, inching impossibly closer while puckering his lips obnoxiously. "alright alright i got hurt during training a few days ago, and my lower back is a little sore" you push him back and sit back with a quiet groan at the sudden movement. he hums, a smug smirk on his features in triumph victory. "hm alright i guess we can just cuddle then" he grins, taking his spot beside you and leaning your head towards his shoulder. he then continues complaining about you eating the pizza he was saving, all the while you enjoy his company with a laugh.

taglist: @hell1cy @wtfhyuck @wonielvr @dilllima @niktwazny303 likes and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

#enhypen soft hours #enhypen oneshots #enha fluff #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #jongseong x reader #sunghoon x reader #jungwon x reader #sunoo x reader #niki x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios

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ryuichirou · 5 months

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I saw your delinquent Deuce art and suddenly thought of this. Do you have any headcanons for the bad boy? I'd love to hear them if yes

Anonymous asked:

how many piercings do you think deuce has? i can imagine when they finally get intimate, ace is surprised by a tongue piercing and nipple piercings

Since our yesterday's post has opened a conversation about delinquent Deuce and you want some thoughts/headcanons, let's talk about it!

To answer the second Anon while we’re at it, I think Deuce used to have his tongue and his ears pierced. The tongue one Deuce did to impress his senpai, and it was exactly that senpai who poked a hole in his tongue. It wasn’t all that professional or sanitary, it happened behind some combini store, so Deuce was super nervous, but senpai did a surprisingly good job so Deuce didn’t even catch any infections. Deuce still remembers the tingles and the adrenalin he felt while trying to stand still while the guy that he respects a lot handled his tongue.

The other guys actually did ask him if he was going to have his nipples pierced, but Deuce got defensive and kinda mad about it and refused. In actuality he was embarrassed and kind of scared that it’d hurt a lot more than his previous piercings… So he didn’t end up doing it. Ace however, when he learned that Deuce used to have piercings (yep he felt it on his tongue), immediately asked if he had anything done with his nipples. He said is as a joke just to tease Deuce, but Deuce looked at him so seriously, in a “who told you?” way.

Deuce also almost got his shoulder blade tattooed; he was anxious about it but wanted to do it quite badly to spite everyone in the world. But then that situation with his mom happened, and Deuce’s attitude towards his own life changed overnight, so he ended up not getting that tattoo. The guys from his gang probably thought that he chickened out.

Delinquent Deuce used to be especially mad at teachers and straight-A students; to him it always felt like they were mad at him for existing and mocking him for being stupid, so he lashed out at them a lot. Sometimes he got so mean and wicked that even his senpais were impressed. This is actually a reason why despite not being the oldest, Deuce kind of had his own minions who respected him: the guy was a legend lol it was very bad. But he did respect his senpais..! They taught him how to drink and smoke!

Yeah, Deuce used to drink and smoke. He didn’t really like it, but he got used to the taste rather quickly. And yes, he did finish other people’s cigs and let others drink his beer. They didn’t mind sharing at all, so Deuce indirectly kissed a lot of guys lol … but he also kissed some of them directly when he got drunk.

I can actually see two routes when it comes to Deuce and all the boykissing stuff that occurred during his wilder years. One way to look at it would be to assume that Deuce, while being aggressive and constantly angry, is still our naïve and oblivious Deuce, who doesn’t necessarily think much about these things, but gets pressured into making out when he gets drunk. He might even get carried away and end up letting the other guys touch him/touching them in return, but it would be the result of Deuce not thinking/being drunk/being kind of taken advantage of. In that case, Deuce might not even consider this something serious these days…

Another way to look at it would assume that Deuce’s sexual awakening occurred during his rebel phase, so he ended up being quite active with the guys he was surrounded by. Of course, he’d still have sloppy drunk makeout sessions, but they would feel more intentional and probably driven by his desire to just piss the world off. Plus, Deuce is very eager to be good at _something_, and this could be that _something_ that Deuce gets praised for doing by his senpais. Both scenarios could work depending on how you look at it I guess lol

To Ace, Deuce’s delinquent years’ stories feel like pulling a never-ending scarf out of the magician’s hat: whenever Ace feels like he has heard all the shocking details, Deuce suddenly blushes and reveals something else. And the shock on Ace’s face makes Deuce even more embarrassed. Ace, however, kind both amazed (wow, another excuse to tease Deuce!), pissed (no way, you’ve done this too?!) and turned on (…).

#replies #headcanons #adeuce

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years

Note

Hi!! I've checked out your CRK posts and i gotta admit you're AMAZING, i ask for you i beg you to make anything about wildberry cookie (smut) I am too desperate for my own good...

(Also you can delete this if you feel uncomfy!)

Smut Headcanons | Wildberry Cookie (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being gender neutral

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

note : this is probably the most highly requested set of headcanons i have ever received; y’all thirsty af

this man is a complete service top; the type to memorise every inch of your body and treat you with a reverence and gentleness unmatched by anyone else you’ve been with

is incredibly strong and will be able to do any position you want - though he is more cautious when it comes to scenes that could result in you getting hurt in anyway

is very quiet during sex but does let out the occasional muffled grunt or groan when he’s filled you to the hilt

a complete gentleman and will risk his own reputation and modesty to protect yours should you be interrupted or discovered during the act

tends to make sure that you come at least three times before he seeks his own release

thinks that you’re the most ethereal creature in the world - like the living breathing definition of perfection - and will gladly spend several hours between your legs to prove it to you (be that as a type of body worship or just excessive oral)

he has an extremely sensitive chest and will moan if you bite, kiss or suck on that area of his body

easily flustered if you offer to go down on him and is worried about hurting you because he’s incredibly well endowed - but won’t argue if you’re certain of yourself

loves missionary and other similar positions because he loves being able to look into your eyes and see your reactions when he takes you - but he’s open to trying others on occasion if you bring them up

isn’t too big on marking but will get terribly flustered if you leave marks in areas that are difficult for him to cover

wildberry is the king of aftercare and seems to know what you need before you do; dutifully bringing you a variety of food and drink and making sure to clean you off and run you a warm bath to help you settle after he’s ravished your body

during the aftermath of intimacy, once he’s finished his rituals, he’ll pull you to his chest and kiss you in a few distinct areas on repeat whilst lowly praising you for being so good (and just being yourself): the insides of your wrists, your shoulders, your collarbones, your jaw, underneath your ear, the tip of your nose and, finally, on your lips

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #hcs #headcanons #smut headcanons #cookie run smut #cookie run x reader #minors dni #smut #crk smut #crk x reader #wildberry cookie x reader #wildberry cookie smut

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scoopertrouper · 11 months

Note

could you write about steve and nancy's first major fight (and reconciliation) after they got back together post s4?

anon, i hope you're happy. this prompt ate my brain, chewed it up, and then decided it didn't like how it tasted and spit it out. i was at the ZOO with an adorable little toddler, watching him watch the turtles in wonderment while also thinking "yeah, but WHY are steve and nancy fighting??"

ultimately i think the characters here still need some fine tuning/fleshing out and the premise really only works if you don't think about it too hard. i will probably revisit this in the future with a much stronger editorial eye. 😬

that said, i hope you still very much enjoy this impulsive, self-indulgent 5k words of breaking up (not really lol) and making up schmoop (+ warning for tasteful-ish spice at the end - sorry if that's not your thing).

***

can’t let you slide through my hands

“I don’t like this.”

Nancy hates her voice right now. It’s a quivering, slip of a sound, and she can barely hear it over the slamming echo of her heart inside her ears.

But Steve hears it. He always hears her, even when it’s something he doesn’t want to hear.

And if he’s trying to ignore her – trying to pretend the slow, careful grind of whetstone over the edge of his ax has drowned out her words – well, the brief glance he can’t help but flick in her direction gives him away entirely.

“Steve.”

“Nancy.”

Each syllable is even, practically toneless, and she hates it.

“Why are you doing this?” Normally she’d work a lot harder to quash the weak, plaintive note that suffuses the word why, but he’s not listening to her and she doesn’t know what else to do. How else to get his attention.

“You heard Hopper,” he says with that awful, carelessly empty inflection. “They need all the help they can get.”

Nancy’s fingernails bite into her palms. The sting of it somehow grounds and incenses her, all at the same time.

“He only said that after you asked him if you could go.”

And hadn’t that been a kick in the pants – Nancy, resigned to staying behind playing bodyguard at Hopper’s request, while Steve only too eagerly offered to tromp off into the woods with Team Distraction like some kind of kamikaze lamb for slaughter.

(That’s not fair. She knows that of the two of them, she has what could be considered the more important job. Stay at the cabin. Protect El. Make sure nothing happens to her if this frankly suicidal diversionary tactic doesn’t work and they’re attacked during yet another round of psychic Marco Polo with the biggest, baddest ugly they’ve faced yet.

And she knows Hopper wasn’t lying – they probably could use Steve’s help out there, his seemingly infinite supply of athleticism. Just like she knows that it’s actually a huge compliment that Hopper's trusting her to help keep his daughter safe. So no, she’s not being fair. But also – it’s not fair.)

Steve finally looks up, and he’s wearing that face she’d gotten all too familiar with during the last couple months of their relationship, round one – the one that says he’s trying to see where she’s coming from, but he’s getting annoyed in spite of himself. She hasn’t seen it in quite some time, but she supposes it would’ve been silly to assume it had been retired for good. Neither of them has changed that much.

“Nance. Come on. You know I’m gonna be way more useful out there than I would be here. I’m a garbage shot, anyway.”

Nancy scoffs.

“So you’d rather be cannon fodder instead?”

He props the ax next to the door to the front door of the cabin and crosses his arms, looking a little wounded.

“Jesus, give me some credit. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“Sure, as long as someone’s there to follow your ass through a gate, and beat off the demon bats, and bandage you when you’re bleeding out all over the place!”

She knows she’s probably starting to sound unhinged. She knows it. But she can’t help it. She does not want him to do this. This is not a good plan.

His face twists, and he looks like he wants to grab her – hold her like he would’ve if this were still September of senior year – but he pulls back at the last second. He does that a lot, now, like he’s still not totally sure what he has permission to do.

She wishes he hadn’t. Touching him would be infinitely preferable to shouting at him. If she was touching him, she could grab on tight. Refuse to let go. Keep him anchored here by sheer force of will.

“Nancy, I don’t get it,” he says, tossing his arms up helplessly instead of putting them around her. “This was exactly what your plan was the first time. Cause a ruckus. Create a diversion. Fly in under the radar. It worked once. Ish. We can make it work again, at least long enough for El to try and flush the creep out of hiding.”

Nancy’s jaw drops.

“Worked? Define worked, Steve!” Her eyes are burning. “Eddie is dead! Max is in a coma, maybe…maybe…” as good as dead “…forever. There is a gate to hell splitting the whole town open down the middle, and Vecna is still alive. Only now we have no idea where he is or what he’s doing! In what way would you say any of what we did worked?”

“Because we hurt him,” he responds immediately, low and hard. “We hurt him, and now – now we know he bleeds. We can hurt him again, Nancy, I gotta believe that.” His mouth thins. “Eddie dying, losing Max –” his voice cracks on the “a”, but he soldiers through it “– it all sucks. I hate it. But it wasn’t your fault. They knew what they were getting themselves into.” He pauses, and squares his shoulders. “They weren’t like Barb.”

Nancy’s mouth tastes like ash, and for once she can’t blame it on the air toxicity.

“Barb? Who said anything about Barb?” She’s trying to keep her breathing under control, but her voice sounds far away. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Bullshit.”

He looks at her dead on as he says it, like he knows she knows exactly what he means, and she sees red. She’s not sure what’s about to come out of her mouth, but she knows that whatever it is, she’s probably not going to be proud of it – and this time, she won’t be able to use spiked punch as an excuse, nor will she be granted the dubious mercy of drunken amnesia.

“This has nothing to do with Barb,” she says slowly, “And everything to do with the fact that sometimes, I wish you weren’t so fucking stupid.”

He flinches back like she’s slapped him and honestly, she might as well have. She feels sick.

It’s the worst fight they’ve had – actually the only fight they’ve had – since they decided to try again, and what does it say about them that they didn’t last more than ten minutes before they started ripping out the stitches on old, barely healed wounds?

“Well you asked for this,” Steve finally replies, voice quivering minutely. “You’re the one who came to me and wanted to give this another shot. So you tell me which one of us is stupid.”

It hurts. It was supposed to. Nancy immediately feels herself deflate, like he’s sucked away all that was keeping her upright and angry.

For once, she doesn’t have an immediate response and Steve doesn’t wait for one anyway, whirling on his heel and storming back into the house.

He’s forgotten his ax. The blade gleams at her, mocking, from where it sits against the door frame.

She’s a bit shaky, and she needs a minute to collect herself before she goes back inside. Everyone in the cabin is gonna know they’ve been fighting – the walls are not soundproof – and it’s humiliating.

More humiliating is the fact that this is coming when they’ve hardly been back together two months (and when she’s barely been officially broken up with Jonathan for five). She knows what it looks like, what she looks like – bouncing back and forth between two men on a whim because she can’t manage to choose once and for all who she wants.

But it’s not like that. Her relationship with Jonathan had been dead long before she’d been able or willing to admit it, and this thing with Steve is so new and old at the same time that it’s just – it’s hard to find her footing, sometimes.

They’ve both changed so much, but now she’s realizing that there are ways they’ve stayed the same, too. And with the good always comes the bad.

Okay. Okay. She takes a deep breath, then two. She can’t stay out here forever. She has to go back inside, and hopefully they can awkwardly circle each other until they’ve cooled down enough to talk it over like the adults they almost are.

Because she’s not giving up after one (shitty) fight. Rather than make her second guess her choice, Steve’s parting shot had the reverse effect – it had clarified exactly how stupid a decision it wasn’t. She had wanted this. She still wants it.

It’s only been two months, sure, but she’s been happy, really happy (a miracle considering the world is literally ending around them).

She hopes he’s felt the same, last ten minutes notwithstanding.

Damn it. She shouldn’t have said those things to him. That one thing. Guilt is settling over her like a blanket, thicker and more noxious than even the poisonous air of the Upside Down.

Nancy’s not sorry about getting mad. If he wants her to be his girlfriend again – and she hopes he still wants her to be his girlfriend again – then he has to understand that she’s going to have an opinion on when and how he hurls his body into the line of fire.

But being mean on purpose? That one, she’s pretty sorry for. Calling him stupid hadn’t been intended to do anything but inflict damage, and she knows she owes him an apology (once the thought of talking to him again doesn’t make the confused snarl of anger and regret and affection that’s all tangled up in her chest tighten to the point of pain).

First things first, though.

Chin up, go back inside.

*****

At first, she’s grateful for how simple it is to avoid him all afternoon. The cabin is tiny, even taking into account the hastily constructed add-on that had come once the Byers realized that returning to California wasn’t an option, their house was no longer theirs and Hopper’s cabin in its original state had nowhere near enough space to house them all.

But as the unofficial headquarters for their little hodgepodge Upside Down insurgency, it’s also in a near-constant state of low-grade chaos, which is pretty easy to disappear into – or, in this case, use as a convenient excuse to avoid someone.

(That said, tension is tension, and in this case it’s so apparent that even Hopper – whose unspoken approach to any relationship that isn’t his own generally veers toward the less he knows, the better – shoots them both some pretty unimpressed looks when Steve volunteers himself and Robin, unprompted, for the second of the day’s supply runs.)

Her relief edges into anxiety, though, as they get closer and closer to nightfall and Nancy still hasn’t had a chance to get him alone or even do more than accidentally catch his eye over the sad cans of stew they scrounge up for pre-op dinner. It sits like sludge on her tongue (and based on the look on El’s face as she dutifully shovels down spoonfuls, that’s probably not just Nancy’s guilt talking).

In fact, it’s only as they’re packing up to leave that she realizes she’s probably going to have to go out of her way to corner him, because while Hopper’s come inside to say his goodbyes, Steve's nowhere to be found.

And part of her really, really wants to be petty and leave it at that. Wants to keep stewing in her resentment and let him go off alone because he was too much of a coward to spare her a fifteen-second goodbye.

But the larger, louder half of her brain won’t shut up about how she’d feel if something happened and the last thing she said to him was…that, so she sucks it up and stomps toward the door, flinging it open and –

– startling Steve so badly that he jerks back a step, eyes widening with alarm.

“Jesus, Nancy, you scared the shit outta me!” She can’t muster up more than a couple blinks in response, and he scuffs one of the dirty planks of the porch with his boot. “Look, I know I’m not, like, your favorite person right now, but I still wanted to come say, uh, see you later. You know…just because.”

Oh, he is such an asshole.

She doesn’t know how to tell him this in a way that would help him understand what she’s actually trying to communicate, so instead, she yanks him down and kisses him hard, something she hasn’t done in public much this go-around. It’s a frankly awful smash of lips and teeth, and may in fact be the worst kiss Nancy has ever given or received.

Regardless, she thinks it gets the point across.

She pulls back, mouth throbbing, and stares at him again, fingers clenched in the collar of his jacket as he stands there, stunned and swaying.

“See you later, Steve,” she says pointedly, instead of “please, come back”, or, better yet, “don’t fucking go.” He softens immediately, and inches forward.

“Nancy –”

“Later,” she interrupts firmly. “When you get back. Okay?”

Steve eyes her for several long seconds, then relents.

“Okay,” he says, then he kisses her for real this time (gently, because ow), a brief little soft–as–silk press that leaves her wanting more than she can possibly hope to have at this specific moment.

When she goes back inside (she refuses to watch them roll off into the distance like she’s some kind of war bride, she carries a gun for Christ’s sake), she pauses for a moment, debating checking for the third time since midday that her rifle is loaded and ready.

Jonathan is there, sitting tense at the two-person kitchen table, staring out into the woods as the rest of the gang helps prep El (or "helps" in some cases).

Most of the time, they’re pretty civil with each other. The breakup had basically been mutual, and she only gets a little livid mad now when she thinks about how he lied to her about Emerson. And kept lying to her. Until the only goddamn reason she found out was because – anyway.

Most of the time, if she ignores inconsequential context like that, they’re pretty civil.

“Trouble in paradise?” he says, almost inaudibly.

She takes her rifle to the living room.

****

In the end, the night and the operation are both total duds, and doesn’t that just add insult to injury?

El searches for what feels like hours, pushing herself farther and farther until her nose is bleeding thickly enough that Joyce sternly calls time on the whole exercise.

No go, is what El says afterward, wiping blood off her face. Some of it ends up smeared under one of her darkly ringed eyes, and she lets Mike fuss over her until it’s gone.

Whatever psychic plane she usually ducks into is dead silent, and in the corporeal world, there isn’t a single peep out of anything Upside Down-adjacent, as Hopper reports via walkie-talkie. No stray demodogs, not even an errant vine around what’s usually one of the most active sections of the gate.

And nothing from Max, who Lucas has taken to watching like a hawk – “just in case” – whenever they can spare him. Nancy’s not sure what’s meant to follow “just in case”, and she’s always been a tiny bit afraid of what Lucas might come back with if she asks – so she doesn’t. For once, she doesn’t need answers.

It’s eerie, and anticlimactic, and it leaves Nancy with an uneasy pit in her stomach. Under the circumstances, no news doesn’t always feel like good news.

With how the night has fizzled, she doesn’t expect much when Hopper’s group rumbles down the drive – so the jagged, ugly cut she can see arcing down the left side of Steve’s forehead from even as far off as the front window comes as a nasty shock. (Though honestly, should it?)

“What the hell happened?” she demands, running to meet them before they can even climb out of the truck. “I thought you said it was quiet.”

“It was,” Hopper confirms, killing the ignition. “Not a crawler in sight. Wanna fill the lady in on what went down, Harrington?”

The laughter is plain in his voice, and Nancy instantly relaxes. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been serious.

Steve looks downright mutinous as he crawls out of the back cab alongside Wayne. Good. See if he wants to abandon Nancy to go play Rambo after that.

“Got into it with a tree branch,” he mutters, mortified. “Tree – one, Steve – zero.” He gestures up at his forehead. “Obviously.”

The fact that Nancy manages to mostly keep a straight face should probably automatically shortlist her for inclusion into some kind of Greatest Girlfriend Ever hall of fame. As it is, Dustin, (who’s been uncharacteristically quiet all night), does the dirty work for her.

“Jesus, Steve, is there anything you can beat in a fight?”

“Excuse the shit outta me, Henderson, but did I or did I not save your ass from goddamn Russian soldiers?”

“One Russian soldier, Steve. One. And I don’t even know if it counts when you mrrflmgh –” Dustin gurgles helplessly for a few seconds behind the iron hand Nancy clamps over his mouth before eventually giving up and going silent.

“I think what Dustin is trying to say is that he’s glad everyone’s okay,” she says with as much brightness as she can muster. “Right?” she asks pointedly, releasing him. There’s a long pause, and then he sighs.

“Sure,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a dental patient undergoing a root canal. “Glad to have you all back.”

He shuffles back into the cabin, and Nancy knows that one of these days, someone’s gonna have to have a talk with him about his wild mood swings. But she doesn’t really want that someone to be her, so she’s refrained from bringing it up thus far.

“Someone’s gotta check that kid,” Steve utters almost inaudibly, agreeing with Nancy’s silent train of thought (and sounding more concerned than irritated). He’s sneaking glances in Dustin’s wake like he thinks he might be able to get away with following him.

Nancy clears her throat, ready to disabuse him of that notion.

“Some other time, Rocky,” she says, and she means it to be teasing, but it comes out too fond to be entirely successful. “Why don’t we get that cut taken care of, first?”

She holds out her hand, and he only hesitates a second before he takes it firmly in his, palm to palm.

***

They stay linked like that as she leads him all the way to the tiny half-bath at the back of the new addition, and he only lets go when she shuts them in and urges him down onto the closed toilet so she can comfortably reach his forehead.

For a few moments, he allows her to work in silence, wincing when she has to pour hydrogen peroxide over the cut (she still doesn’t know if you can actually get Upside Down rabies, but better safe than sorry with all weird dust particles floating around).

Without the dried blood crusting it, it actually looks very superficial. Nancy breathes a sigh of relief, though she’ll still layer it with some antibiotic cream to be safe.

“I guess I just…don’t get it.” Apropos of nothing, Steve chooses this moment to speak quietly, picking up the loose thread of a conversation they haven’t even started yet. “The last time we were together, you were pissed because I didn’t want to get involved. Now I’m all in, and it doesn’t seem like you like that, either.”

Nancy’s fingers freeze on the cap of Neosporin.

“Steve.” She sets the tube aside and makes an executive decision – she needs to be touching him if he’s gonna insist on talking about this here. “Before we do this, can you do me a favor, first?”

Nancy picks up his hands and haphazardly plants them on her hips before slipping her own up to cage his face. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t move an inch from where she’s arranged them. “Can you just…stop stopping yourself from touching me? I know we’re in kind of a weird place right now, but I promise you – if you want to, then there’s a pretty damn good chance I want to, too.”

The confused lines in his forehead don’t ease, but his fingers adjust and tighten around her sides until he’s holding her with surety. Surrounded by the warmth of him, the invisible string that’s been holding her shoulders taut all day loosens.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” he says slowly, eyes skimming her face like she’s this entirely new person who just happens to still look and dress like Nancy. “I – of course I’ll stop. It’s not like holding you is some kind of hardship, Nance.” He looks down. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Nancy refrains from noting that he hadn’t asked a question, he’d merely made an observation. That level of pedantry probably won’t help much in her “get Steve to touch her more” crusade.

“I know,” she says instead. “But Steve, it’s not – I don’t get mad because you get involved. I love that. I think it’s…” She can feel a dull flush start to creep up her neck. “This can never leave this room, okay, but it can – it can be very hot when you go all action hero.” The flush has extended all the way up through her cheeks. Mercifully, he doesn’t comment on it, though a faint little glimmer that she hasn’t seen all day is creeping back into his gaze.

“Right back ‘atcha, Wheeler,” he returns with a trace smile, and oh! That’s flirting. That’s a good sign. “But then…why did you…?”

“React the way I did?” He tilts his head in the slightest nod. “Because I wanted you to stay with me,” she finally admits, feeling more naked in front of him now than on the night she’d given him her virginity. “The hero thing – it’s nice and all, don’t get me wrong. And sometimes it’s necessary, but I – I don’t need that. I don’t need a hero. I just…want a partner. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Nancy…” In a blink, the amused glint is gone. In its place, he looks raw, like she’s torn him down to the studs.

There’s a lick of hair curling over his ear that she’s taken to mindlessly stroking, and it’s easier to keep staring at that than look into his eyes while she gets this off her chest.

“When we got back together,” she continues on, “you made me a promise. Remember?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and his voice is achingly soft. “I promised you we’d come out of this okay.” He turns his face into her hand, lips brushing against her palm with every tingling syllable. “I meant it.”

“Yeah, but.” Nancy chews her lip. “If I can’t convince you that you matter more than how hard you swing or how many hits you can take, if you won’t stay with me so we can work together and watch each other’s backs, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Abruptly, Steve’s standing, nudging his way deeper into her space, and the way he can tower over her a bit, dark and solid – well, Nancy fancies herself a feminist, but not so much that she’ll pretend it doesn’t make her shiver in a good way.

“Goddammit, Nancy,” he croaks, and then he’s folding her in his arms, curling tight around her body. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t – I didn’t even realize,” he mumbles into the nook of her neck and shoulder. “Shit, I am stupid.”

“You’re not,” Nancy chokes, tightening her arms around his neck like she’d wanted to earlier. He’s still wearing his jacket, and the zipper is digging painfully into the V of her collarbone, but it barely registers. She thinks it would take a literal earthquake to dislodge her right now. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. You weren’t even wrong, it’s just that – sometimes it’s still really hard to talk about her.”

She doesn’t need to specify who the “her” in question is. There are definitely a few tears leaking into the leather of his collar, but no one can see them, so it’s neither here nor there.

“I get it,” he says, “but I wanna talk to you about this stuff. If – if you want to. With me. I know I wasn’t there for you before but I swear I can be that guy now.”

“I know,” she gasps, because he’s holding her so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, but if the tradeoff is losing this hot–all–over feeling of his hands on her, then it’s fine, air is overrated anyway. “You are. You are that guy. I want you, I want us. I want you to believe that.”

Their bodies are so constrained in this tiny space, but there’s something wild crackling in the air, something that raises goosebumps on her arms and makes it so that one minute she’s mouthing reassurances into his jaw, and the next, he’s tilting his chin and kissing her quiet, stealing her words with one wet, electric sweep of his tongue.

Yes. She fists his hair between her fingers, soft and a little overlong, swallowing down his helpless whine as she angles his head so she can open wider under him.

This – this is why, so far, she’s barely been able to kiss him outside of the privacy of one of their rooms.

Because every time, almost as soon as it starts, they’re set ablaze, twin infernos trying to consume each other alive. It was never like this before, so she has no roadmap for how to cope, how to process the overpowering need that has her spreading her legs to draw him closer and shoving her hands under layers of leather and cotton to get at sweaty skin.

“Steve,” she whimpers into his lips, rocking her hips up in a pale facsimile of what she truly wants (but it still feels so good). “I need…”

“I know,” he groans, sucking gently at her sensitive pulse point until she’s keening quietly and grinding harder into the rigid seam of his jeans. Everything is tight, and hot, and she thinks she might vibrate right out of her own body if she can’t get what she’s craving.

The night they got back together, they’d had every good intention of taking it slow, of getting to know each other again before jumping back into the physical.

But that had lasted about as long as it took for him to get a hand under the band of her bra, and eventually he’d ended up fucking her nice and slow behind the locked door of her childhood bedroom, trailing scorching kisses from her swollen lips to the tips of her breasts until she was shaking apart into the mattress, vision white and head empty of anything that wasn’t him – his scent, his body over hers, the quivering place where he nestled inside her.

They don’t have time for that now – they hardly ever have time for that, which probably doesn’t help quell the desperate desire – so they make do, as always, with what they can.

They make do with his hips, pushing into hers again and again in easy, dirty twists, sensation blunted between two layers of jeans but still enough to have her choking back moans, nipples pebbled hard into two pinpricks of pleasure against the stiff padding of her bra. They make do with deep, messy kisses, which also muffle the needy noises they can’t contain as their bodies strain higher and higher toward a mutual peak.

They make do with hands, scratching up his back and through his chest hair. Squeezing at her ass and guiding her movements until all Nancy has to do is hang on for dear life and enjoy the ride.

When she finally crashes over the edge, it hits out of nowhere, in flashing, pulsing waves that come hard and fast until she’s digging fists into his shoulder blades and sucking on his tongue in a frantic attempt to stay silent. He’s not far behind, and when he tears himself away from her lips to bury his head in her shoulder, she can feel more than hear the deep shudder of his groan as he trembles in her arms.

Finally, they both still, slumping back against the wall in a frazzled tangle, and reality comes seeping in one mortifying realization at a time.

“We‘re…still in Hopper’s bathroom, aren’t we?” Nancy asks faintly.

“Yup.” He pops the “p” against her skin, but doesn’t look up.

“And…we’ve been in here a really long time.” Way longer than it would take to treat that cut on his head, anyway.

“Probably.”

“My brother is out there. With his girlfriend. And his friends. Our friends.”

“He sure is.”

He sounds way more cheerful than anyone about to face down a firing squad of nosy teenagers ought to be – but then again, she’s remarkably relaxed, too.

Huh. Could it be that in the end, all they really needed was to get off?

(Probably not.)

Steve finally shoves away from the wall and adjusts his pants, grimacing.

“Okay, being honest, this might not’ve been our brightest idea,” he admits.

Nancy catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror just over his shoulder. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are bright. She looks pleased. Happy.

“Probably not, but can’t argue with results,” she teases, stepping back into his space and slipping an arm around his waist, under his jacket.

He grins down at her, and he looks like such a man – handsome, and kind, and hers – that her heart skips.

They’re not kids anymore, playacting at some great love that, in the end, was mostly smoke and mirrors. If they make it out of this, like he’s promised they will, they’ll be – they’ll be basically grown ups.

This time, it’s real. Maybe even for keeps.

That should freak her out, but it doesn’t.

He presses his smile to her forehead, chaste and sweet, and slings an arm around her neck.

“Who am I to argue with the beautiful Nancy Wheeler?” he says with more than a bit of irony, and she laughs, because she wants to and he wants her to. “Ready to face the music?”

“Together?” Nancy doesn’t shield the hope in her voice. He dips his forehead to rest against hers, nudges their noses together.

“Wild demodogs couldn’t drag me away,” he says softly, sincerely, and the warm, secret feeling in Nancy’s chest – the one she’s been carrying around for months, waiting until she’s absolutely sure she has a name for it – balloons outward.

Soon, it’ll be too big for her body alone to bear. One day, it will demand to be shared, and she’ll give it freely and joyfully.

Not yet, but soon.

“Come on, then,” she says.

She tugs him forward, and he follows.

***

(normalize panicking and giving an established character an extensive home reno complete with plumbing work smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse simply because you realized that the house's canon layout was not conducive to the main pairing getting it on as you had originally written.)

#stancy #stancy fic #anon reply #prompt fill #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #my stuff #plot? never heard of her #world building? we hate it #finally writing steve and nancy Together again? chef's kiss

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cream-stew · 2 years

Note

can you make a vocal zhongli? (a little dom!fem!reader) you know... dirty talk... moans

yeah

you know

🔞 minors dni

warnings: afab reader, creampie, dom bottom reader, sub top zhongli, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

// note: another post where I combined 2 asks since both wanted dom!reader so @ anon who asked for "teaching him more about sex n he loves it so much he gets carried away" this is for you too❤️ neither ask specified top/bottom dynamics tho so to get this out quicker I only did bottom reader, please send in another ask if you want some top headcanons, I'll happily write a part 2🤝)

you're kinda surprised to find out he's not very experienced in bed, mostly bc he has experience with anything else, so you assumed there couldn't possibly be something he didn't know.

it's not a big deal tho, this just means you get to teach him!

you're very excited to finally have sex with him, straddling him as he sits on the bed, and he's just as eager, pulling you into a passionate kiss, his hands already groping your tits. you both strip carelessly, annoyed whenever your lips have to part, and soon you're both naked, with you pushing him down until he's laying flat on the mattress. you hold up his hard cock and slip it into your pussy with ease, some fluids gushing out of you as he fills you up.

"how does it feel?", you ask cheekily, kissing the tip of his nose as he shudders.

"perfect", he breathes out, "you're so wet and loose already, it feels as if your pussy was made for my cock"

you laugh. he may not have tons of experience but his words still work in getting you more and more aroused! he grunts when you start riding him, trying to muffle the first few moans as his cock hardens even more inside you, the head brushing against your sweet spot almost naturally.

"don't be shy", you taunt him, "I want to hear you, I want to hear how good I make you feel"

he nods curtly, pulling his hands away from over his mouth, and his next moan is loud next to your ear. he continues like that, not wanting to disobey you, and moaning whenever you sit back on his cock and grind your hips down on him, as if hoping to take him even deeper.

"touch me?", you add, "don't you want to play with my nipples?", and yeah, he does! he pinches them harshly and makes you moan in turn!

"you liked that?", he asks out of breath, moaning and panting in between his words, "should I keep going until you cum?"

"mmn, how about… let's swap places", you reply, getting up from his lap and laughing when he whines. you lay down in bed and motion for him to settle in between your parted legs, spreading your pussy lips so he can see the mess already inside you, your own fluids and his thick precum starting to leak out.

"just like that", you encourage him when he plunges his cock back inside you, leaning down against you. "move your hips now. yes, like that, but you can be rougher, come- ahh! come on-!"

he moans again as he picks up his pace just like you instruct him, fucking in and out of you and making a mess of the bed sheets. his eyes are unfocused as he looks down at you, watching you writhe as you grip the sheets. you cum, his cock hitting your womb mercilessly, and he doesn't stop at all !!

you can't even speak as he keeps fucking you, too fucked out to complain about the mild overstimulation. he cums deep inside you, moaning and babbling, yet he still doesn't stop ?!

you're just along for the ride as he pounds into your sore pussy like a wild beast, filling you up with his cum over and over, and bringing you to just as many orgasms.

there's really nothing else you can teach him after today…

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut

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euphoricsunflowers · 2 years

Note

hii i’m the reader x 2subs anon.

ima self indulge in this by saying that having both wonu and mingyu at your mercy on their knees in front of you. idk what else to say other than you start to kiss wonu and ahhh idk my mind has gone blank. my lil burst of inspo came from me remembering that they share a apartment soo maybe that might help in. fixing what i’ve written 😭

hi baby <3 this idea killed me i hope you know how much you contributed to my unwellness <3

cuz tell me why i have in my drafts saved an idea that was literally ‘making sub!wonwoo decide if he gets to cum tonight or if sub!mingyu does’ but i never posted it bc i felt weird 😭

there’s something about guys like them being on their knees that is so satisfying. it’s where they belong <3

you look between both of them, having already come to a decision but wanting to drag out the moment just a second longer. mingyu’s hair is pulled behind his ears; wonwoo’s hair is resting flatly on his forehead. untamed.

you take a step closer, equally close to both of them, taking both of them in as they rest on their knees. they both look so small right now. mingyu reaches out for your hand, maybe looking to hold it. you let him hold your hand even if you don’t hold his back.

you lean in a little bit closer to wonwoo, so close your exhales are touching his lips, “say please, baby,” you whisper.

a beat passes. he looks like he’s fighting the urge to just kiss you himself; he’s gotta wait for a green light. he murmurs, “please,” just like you ask. his voice is low and attractive, just desperate enough to kill any thoughts that he’s in control.

you move closer, kissing him finally. your thumb brushes the back of mingyu’s hand soothingly as he’s just made to watch you make out with his roommate. your hand cups wonwoo’s cheek, and mingyu swears he’s never felt so jealous.

it’s only after a minute you pull away. wonwoo doesn’t open his eyes yet, relaxing his lips but still sitting there in a daze. you look over at mingyu, whispering, “this could be you, but you went and decided to go and flirt with other people at the party at jun’s the other night,” you play with wonwoo’s hair as he leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

mingyu looks so devastated when he thought back to that night. he was very intentionally flirting, but it was only to get your attention. he assumed you didn’t notice.

you continue, hearing mingyu whine in the background, “so instead, i’m going to take such good care of wonwoo, make sure he cums nice and hard a couple times before we finish. but you? you’re going to sit and watch in envy of what could have been you. you’re not cumming at all.”

—

maybe this wasn’t exactly what u were thinking but hopefully it gets the brain juices going <33 much love baby hope you’re well <33

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #mingyu smut #sub!seventeen #sub!svt #sub!wonwoo #sub!mingyu #anon

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lorata · 8 months

Text

Claudius & Eibhlin for @penfoldx

in which anthropological study subs in for discussing one's private anxieties

(h/t to attractiveness anon & @literallyjustanyurlatthispoint for partial inspiration)

it's @penfoldx's birthday! have some ridiculousness

also found at DW here

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

The notebook lay on the coffee table, half buried under various tomes (that was a new word Claudius learned and liked to throw around, tomes) on rabbit husbandry, one corner peeking out just enough to draw his curiosity.

Eibhlin called them ‘composition notebooks’ and claimed every child in Three used them, which cracked Claudius up — imagine writing enough in school you needed multiple notebooks — but sure, why not. It was the genius district after all. She’d had to make do with recycled paper for a while after the war but now she could finally import the good stuff. Which meant Claudius kept finding them everywhere, experiment logs and local recipes and logical reasons why Brutus should let her keep a Village bear (pending).

This one, worryingly, carried the simple title ‘Observations’.

It could be private, unleashing the wrath of heaven if Claudius cracked open the cover. Or it could be a topic too awkward or embarrassing for Eibhlin to raise on her own, leaving this as the most convenient and least emotionally excruciating way of broaching the issue. The real question, which one?

With Misha, this would be deliberate psychological warfare. With Eibhlin, the lines blurred.

“Eh, fuck it.” Claudius flipped open the book. He could always cave on a fifth rabbit if need be.

Later that evening Eibhlin crept up behind him in the kitchen, impressively silent as always. Claudius resisted the automatic impulse to flip the chef’s knife around into throat-slitting position (years of post-Arena healing undone by ground warfare, now finally uncurling a second time) and laid the blade flat against the cutting board.

“Hold out your hands,” Eibhlin said. Her voice twinkled in a way that those who’d never lived with rabbits might call childlike innocence.

Claudius, on the other hand, shared his living space with several rabbits, and left innocence behind a long time ago. “I am making dinner,” he said without turning around. “Should I still hold out my hands?”

A pause, in which Claudius envisioned the pout growing like fog over the lake in early morning, and yeah, he thought so. “Misha says you are a party pooper.”

“Ironic,” Claudius said dryly, but while he’d acquired several mental illnesses over the years, finding ‘wee little rabbit poops’ endearing was not one he’d picked up along the way, sponsors save him. “I’m sure there will be more cute poops tomorrow. Do I want to know why you’ve been polling people in town about what they find attractive? If we’re hosting an orgy I should go out for snacks.”

Silence of a very different character this time. Claudius spent a long time cataloguing the pauses in their conversations, learning when to send for Beetee, when to backtrack and apologize, when to wait it out. “Ah,” Eibhlin said. “That was careless.”

“I thought maybe it was on purpose,” Claudius said. He slipped the knife back into the block and turned around, risking embarrassing Eibhlin with eye contact just to let her see he wasn’t pissed off. “Like one of those things you hid as a hint or something. I can pretend I didn’t see it if you want.”

Eibhlin’s gaze shuttered. “Don’t be asinine,” she said, her tone acerbic. “You do not need to insult us both. I am conducting — research. Anthropology. Desired physical traits in this district seem to be consistent in a way that extends beyond what I had assumed to be Village sampling bias.”

He’d been pretty good at keeping his expression neutral and non-judgemental, but Claudius felt his eyebrows creep up in spite of himself. “You mean we’re a bunch of lunkheads so you thought we were poisoning your data?”

Her ears turned bright pink. “I meant —“ but oh, looks like Claudius wasn’t the only one to pick up a few tricks over the years. Eibhlin stopped, narrowed her eyes. “You are attempting to distract me by manufacturing outrage. Despite the willfully reductive phrasing, yes. This is a community of athletic outliers. You are not representative. I have made many efforts not to generalize across the population, and so this one has surprised me.”

It felt absurd to have this conversation while Eibhlin stood in front of him with a handful of rabbit dung, and so Claudius ducked down for the compost bin. Stepping out of the way for Eibhlin to wash her hands gave him a second to think about whatever the hell this was. “Is it really so weird? We move rocks around and make guns in factories and kill people. Grr, argh, strong people hot.”

This time the impatience nearly skewered him. “But that is the point, it is not that. Perhaps superficially, for short-term liaisons, but not partnerships. There is a reason why attractiveness in Three is strongly weighted toward intelligence. Physically symmetrical but intellectually bankrupt partners will not create a stable or successful household.”

Claudius blinked. “Ouch?”

“Do not —“

“Okay, okay. “ He held up his hands. Three-stupid was not universal-stupid, they’d had this argument before and reopening it now wouldn’t help anyone. “So you’re trying to figure out what is the … biological imperative … behind what Twos find attractive?”

See, he could do it too.

Now she hesitated. He probably should have moved this conversation to the living room or found her a rabbit to cuddle before starting this conversation, but more fool him, now they had to have it in the middle of the kitchen with nothing to fiddle with but sharp implements. “Leaving aside the question of whether biological or evolutionary imperatives exist other than as excuses for the creation of sexist binaries — yes. In Three we value intelligence because intelligence is how we survive. I could not understand how brawn could hold the same value in your society.”

“Okay.” Claudius leaned back against the counter, hands braced but open, nonthreatening. “And?”

“It isn’t brawn,” Eibhlin said. “It’s — community. Care. You are a district of physical labourers and physical people, so of course you value those who can take care of each other with your bodies.”

“Sounds kind of like cavemen,” Claudius said, amused in spite of himself. “I’m sure Brutus would agree, though.”

“He did,” Eibhlin said, nose in the air with the delicate air of someone choosing not to take offence, as the bigger person in the room thank you very much. “And Artemisia, once she stopped laughing. She went home with many girls, but she wanted to marry Emory when she was young, and now she is with Devon. That speaks to type.”

“Okay,” he said, again. “I still don’t know what — you don’t just do anthropology. You have to have a thesis.”

Eibhlin’s fingers curled in her sleeves, which — Ah, shit.

This was the part Claudius hated. Speedrunning weeks of research and observations to find whatever tangled mess of emotions had prompted Eibhlin to do this in the first place, because while Claudius might mangle onions or spar with his mentor or call up his friends in a total panic when he had a problem, Eibhlin … well, she did science.

“Okay.” A third time, the jigsaw puzzles falling off the table and clicking together into the most terrifying image of a nightmare clown he’d ever seen, but also the clown was right in front of him looking sad and he had to be very careful not to jump. “So it sounds like … we have the best of both worlds? You’re a super genius and I — well, I can sort of fix the roof, if I have help.”

Eibhlin studied him in silence for several moments, eyes intent and searching, but finally she nodded sharply and the knot in his chest unhooked. “Don’t forget the cooking,” she said. “You have become quite adept.”

“Glad to hear it,” Claudius said. “You want to help? I was still chopping when someone tried to put rabbit poop in my hands.”

“Hm,” Eibhlin said, admitting absolutely nothing, and held out her hand for the knife.

#we must be killers: tales from district 2 #my writing #oc: claudius

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ffjj5 · 1 year

Note

Baby Army and Jikook enthusiast here. I wanted to ask about the Harry Styles concert. Hobi, Jimin, Tae and Jungkook went together. But the only clips circulating are of Tae and Jungkook holding hands and dancing.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t look at that as anything important because it wasn’t as if Jimin wasn’t there (and ofcourse assuming that Jikook are/were secure boyfies). But then, there has been a lot of interaction, or say, more interaction between Jungkook and Tae than there has been between Jungkook and Jimin. And I’m talking publicly made available content, including Bangtan content.

Isn’t there a possibility, even a remote one, that Jikook aren’t boyfies anymore? That they are just good friends or very close friends who once dated? I wouldn’t say Jungkook moved on to Tae because I don’t think the latter is gay but perhaps, Jungkook is moving on from Jimin? Or trying to?

Hi anon.

My personal feeling is that Jimin and Jungkook are very happily committed to each other. But you must remember that they are in a closeted gay relationship. Now more than ever with the political backdrop of their country and the impending military service they have to be incredibly careful.

But we do still get the pleasure of seeing them together, and particularly around the time period of the concerts in 2021

I am linking in @kanmom51 masterlist from the BTS concert of the time period they went to the Harry Styles concert and you will also find masterlists from the other concerts too. Please take some time to read them and other Jikookers blogs and see if you see what we see.

For me they were all incredibly cute during the Harry concert. Tae and JK were singing their hearts out like good friends having a few drinks at the concert of an artist they enjoy listening too. The interactions between Jimin and JK were more intimate and typical boyfriend behaviour, sharing a drink, Jimin putting his arm around JK whilst swaying in time together to a song, Jimin whispering something in JK's ear after a Harry fan came out at the concert, only for JK to quickly wave his hand and shake his head and for Jimin to give a cheeky smile and an endered head pat to JK. What were you suggesting Jimin 🤔🤣

And we know how the head pat is the go to for Jimin when he is either endeared by or consoling JK

For me there isn't a possibility that they have split up, these two are a few years down the line and have settled and are more confident in their feelings for each other.

Please remember this is a private relationship that we have been so so lucky to be allowed a glimpse of when they want us to, and right now they probably still want us to l, they may want to shout it from the rooftops, but they can't. They have to be safe, they have to keep those they love safe.

Lets wait and see what post military service brings but for now enjoy reading some blogs and making up your own mind.

💜💜

💜💛🌈

#thanks for the ask!#jimin #jikook #jungkook #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kookmin #jm #jk

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dearweirdme · 11 months

Note

so what are your genuine thoughts on jikook? because i feel like in order to be a taekooker you either have to be a jimin anti who believes he's getting in taekook's way or he's doing fan service with jungkook to hide taekook; which is dumb because how does hiding a gay couple with another gay couple do anything? it still breeds the same results in regards of putting a target on the artists’ backs (jk in this case cause he's supposed to hide, right?).

and then there's some tkkrs who just say jikook are good friends. but then how do you explain jimin giving jungkook a hickey? (i know they called it a bite but it's still fishy. drinking at night all alone, jk picking jimin up bridal style and spinning him around until jimin had to bite his neck to let go of him?? sus) and how do you explain jimin having the most screen time in jk's GCFs and getting GCFT all dedicated to him with a queer coded song? and GCF Saipan with queer coded lyrics on jimin's part twice? not to mention jungkook sucking and kissing jimin's ear on stage? jungkook using informal language with jimin but not with tae?

if all of the above can be waved off as friendship then that would make it that jungkook has pretty loose friendship boundaries, and that he'd do wayyy more sus stuff with his romantic/sexual partner, presumably taehyung. but here's the thing... taekook have never done something weirdly sus to that extent, ever.

Hi anon!

I sense, that you are a Jimin and Jk shipper, and that you are trying to test me (if I'm mistaken, I hereby apologize for assuming). I feel like you've made really narrow selection of 'ways to be a Taekooker'. I am not a Jimin hater (I love that man and I think he's a vital part of BTS, and a dear friend of both Jk and Tae), neither am I of the believe that everything Jk and Jimin do is fanservice. I suppose I would fall in the last possible option, I do believ Jimin and Jk are just close friends... and I feel I am able to explain my reasoning behind that pretty well.

Let me first point out a few things I feel vital to make people understand my reasoning. It makes a lot of difference if you look at this situation with the assumption that Jimin and Jk want people to know they are together and that their company lets them be bold about it, or if (like me) you think Tae and Jk don't want to be out and their company also doesn't allow them to be obvious. Let me elaborate a bit (it's what I do.. bear with me here). It's quite common knowledge that Idols in general arent allowed to (publicly) date, not even in a heterosexual way. I am pretty sure we can agree that the possibility of BTS members having dated in secret is quite real (we just haven't seen them, because they aren't allowed to do it publicly). I think we can also agree, that the likelyhood of the company allowing a queer relationship to go public is even less likely. So the likelyness of them allowing real footage of a real queer in-band-relationship, to me is nearly impossible.

The second thing I would like to point out is that we (both Taekookers and Jikookers) are basing a lot of our thoughts on edited footage. I recently made this post (which is vague as hell, but I think it conveys the message) .

Everything we see from official content has been edited and screened. It's stuff we are meant to see. Editing choices have been made. I find it way more likely for a company in SK to edit footage in a way that hides a queer relationship, than them making editing choices that highlights a queer relationship. That is just me following logical thinking. SK = queer not good + idols dating not good = no real footage of a queer in-band-couple.

So what do I feel about Jikook. Simply put, I feel it's fanservice combined with a real close friendship. You are right that covering up one queer relationship with another one wouldn't make much sense, but I feel they were attempting to level out the playingfield. Having more members act at a higly intimate level does make it easier for them to play the 'fanservice' card. Which is what neutral armies definitely do. Maybe they miscalculated the way Jk and Jimin's chemistry worked, because they do have that. They are very playfull and teasing. I can definitely see how that would make fans think something more is up. So now they have two huge ships both around Jk... and funnily enough... out of the three main players.. Jk is the least controversial one. You and I agree that Jk is most likely queer. I would even agree that Jimin is possibly queer. I think it very possible Jk, Tae and Jimin have this strong bond because not only are they close in age, but maybe they also have similar struggles. I am not mad at Jimin and Jk doing fanservice. Fanservice is part of their job. Tae knows that too, although he doesn't always like it. Jobs come with parts you like and parts you dislike. I think Jk and Jimin doing fanservice is close to how they naturally act, playfull, caring. I think Tae and Jk have been told to tone down the fanservice a lot, but when they do to me it looks like they both just melt into it.

That was me explaining my general thought on this matter. Lets get into the specifics you mentioned. I feel this won't go over well and people will be quick to just go defensive, but it is honestly how I see things. I do not mean to insult or argue... it's my honest interpretation of situations you've laid out for me.

So I have actually already adressed the bite and the earsucking. It's in this post and I still stand by my interpretations (although you will most likely disagree).

I would like to add, that if it's okay for Jikookers to use these moments... it's similarly okay for Taekookers to use Tae kissing Jk's ear, neck, and nape. Let's not be hypocrits. Drinking at night alone is not weird between friends. It happens so often.

Jk's GCF's are not romantic to me. None of them are, and several have romantic songs as background. I know Tokyo GFC is one of Jikook shippers main proofs, but point out the romance to me (like for real, because I genuinely do not see it. I can understand, if you were already a shipper or looking for a ship, this coming up will mean something. But I saw those clips before I became aware of shipping, and I only saw friendship. Troye Sivan himself said about that song that he saw it as being about his fans (platonic) and I am very much inclined to think that is what Jk meant to convey as well

(again, ofcourse you will disagree). I think it was two close friends on a trip. It was funny, cute, close, but not romantic. I also think it very unlikely that their company would allow Jk to publish anything romantic in origin. You can bet their contracts are full of image clauses and restrictions (the non-dating clause being an example).

Jimin having more screentime to me makes sense because aside from Tae, he and Jk were probably closest. I do not deny that they spent a lot of time together and that he is an important person to Jk. I think Tae and Jk were restricted in how much they were allowed to share of their bond. To me that makes sense in how I feel their company would deal with an in-band relationship.

If you search non-shipping conversations about BTS's use of informal language with each other (which I have done). You will find one thing everyone (Native Koreans included) mentions is that talking informally isn't a sign or indicater of a romantic bond. It is a sign of closeness between friends and siblings. While not everyone agrees on the specifics, it is generally believed that BTS amongst each other are more informal than when they are in function. Although they do in general stay at a middleground state of formalness. So they might slip up some times. The moments you refer to, are actually used as examples of members joking around.. as close friends. All members have slipped up by dropping honorifics or using banmal, although some more than others, the younger ones being more inclined to do so. In cases like this I like to look at neutrals point of view, because shippers are biased. (This is what my general view is, anyone with serious input feel free to add on or teach me).

if all of the above can be waved off as friendship then that would make it that jungkook has pretty loose friendship boundaries

Ah, this seems very judgemental to me. Does your faith and idea of Jk rely on your believe in Jikook this much? Him goofing around with a friend, who he is very close with, whom he has shared a large part of his life with, who he has lived with, isn't okay? Honestly the things you've described aren't actually that big a deal.

and that he'd do wayyy more sus stuff with his romantic/sexual partner, presumably taehyung. but here's the thing... taekook have never done something weirdly sus to that extent, ever.

Ah, anon... we haven't seen even ten percent of their lives. You can't say with certainty that Tae and Jk have never done anything sus. You are basing your opinions on the footage you have seen. And as I've stated before... I don't think it very likely that BigHit would allow footage with signs of any real relationships to get out.

What I see between Tae and Jk is a softness, it's in looks and subtle touches and the way they move around each other. It's vague as hell, and I cannot describe it much better, but that softness I do not see between Jimin and JK. I also see clear instances of especially Tae being jealous of Jimin at times, while I do not see that jealousy in Jimin when Tae and Jk interact. There are several moments I feel would not have happened if Jimin and Jk were a couple. I also feel Jk and Jimin do not fully engage as they often pull back and lean away.

#anon #taekook #here you go anon #i’m gonna go into hiding now #not really #but I won’t be posting blind hate

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ninjakk · 1 year

Note

Hi, sorry for the inconvenience. First of all, I wanted to say that I love your analysis of the novel mdsz, so if it's not too much trouble, I wanted to ask you what do you think would have happened if after WWX's resurrection, he didn't want to go to Gusu with LWJ? I mean, it is known from canon that WWX using mo xuanyu's identity to try to escape from JC and LWJ said he wanted to be with LWJ and LWJ immediately takes him to Gusu and given that is not the case how would LWJ try to be close to

Hi Anon,

Thank you for the lovely comments about my posts 🥰

Of course, it's never too much trouble for my lovely followers and anons! It just might take me a while to get back to you all 😅 So thanks for your patience guys 😚

I think your ask might have been sent a little earlier than intended, as the last sentence seems to have cut off. But I think I can gather what you wanted to ask. So let's take a look at the scene you're referring to:

“Thank you for being so enthusiastic. However, your thoughts are quite off. Even if I am attracted to men, I don’t like just any type of man, much less follow anyone who waves at me. For example, I’m not interested in ones like you.” Wei WuXian was purposely trying to disgust him. Jiang Cheng had always hated being defeated while compared with others, no matter how pointless the comparison was.

Chapter 10 ExR translations

WWX is trying to disgust JC to the point he would leave him alone. He's already gathered JC holds a lot of animosity towards him regardless of whether he is actually WWX or just someone who cultivates the same path as him. In order to escape, WWX decides to scare both men off by using MXY's apparent reputation.

“Which type? Well, I am very much attracted to people like HanGuang-Jun.” Lan WangJi could not tolerate this sort of frivolous and foolish joke at all. If he felt disgusted, he would definitely draw a line between them and keep his distance. Disgusting two people at once—this was killing two birds with one stone! However, as Lan WangJi heard this, he turned around. His face was emotionless, “Mark your words.” Wei WuXian, “Hmm?” Lan WangJi turned back, speaking in a mannerly yet resolute way, “I will take this person back to the Lan Sect.”

Wei WuXian, “...”

Wei WuXian, “...Huh?”

So if WWX hadn't put the theatrics on and said that HGJ was his type, he probably wouldn't have been able to escape JC. As such, JC would have attempted to take WWX back to Lotus Pier - which is where I think another fight would have ensued between JC and LWJ. I think it's quite clear from this chapter, that it is well known JC imprisons and tortures anyone he suspects of being WWX or even dares to emulate his techniques and cultivate the ghost path (guidao). As such, I think it's safe to assume LWJ is also aware of this and he would simply not allow such things to happen. LWJ has already proven he was willing to fight JC to protect WWX when he shielded him from JCs initial attack with Zidian, and I think he'd do it again without hesitation.

Technically WWX never agreed to go back to Gusu with LWJ. He tried to escape (apparently.. but personally I think his efforts were rather half-hearted!) and then he made a scene outside the entrance to the Cloud Recesses, in an attempt to get himself thrown out.

Lan WangJi stood still in front of the entrance, turning a deaf ear to him, and watched the scene with an indifferent look. When Wei WuXian’s voice had somewhat quieted, he spoke, “Let him cry. When he becomes tired, drag him inside.” Wei WuXian hugged the donkey and cried even harder, bumping his head against it.

I have to say, I just love the absolute poetry of LWJ practically dragging WWX back to Gusu in his second life, while his requests for WWX to do so in his first life were always rebuffed! So I think that even if "MXY" hadn't announced LWJ was his type, LWJ would have taken WWX back to the Cloud Recesses nevertheless. Yes LWJ took what WWX said teasingly and ran with it - which is completely adorable. It's the first time we see LWJ counter WWX by teasing him back! But even if WWX hadn't given him the opening to say he was going to take him back to Gusu, I think he would have just announced his intentions anyway. He was trying to warn off JC and protect WWX - and this was the best way to do so. By doing this he would be able to keep WWX safe and out of JCs reach.

Personally I think LWJ does not trust JC in the slightest and is very concerned he would seek WWX out if he let him go off alone after this encounter. Considering JC led the first siege against WWX at the Burial Mounds, it's no surprise he's very protective of WWX when JC is around. Even if LWJ wasn't aware of the rumours regarding JCs penchant for torturing anyone remotely reminding him of WWX, LWJ is still going to hold some resentment towards him. Which is why I think LWJ also prevents WWX from running away during the start of their investigation, when he is still playing the part of "MXY", because he is worried something will happen to him or JC will catch him. LWJ's concerns are very much justified later in the novel as well! Even if his method of protecting WWX is questionable.

His entire leg was covered with the black bruise of the Curse Mark. After staring at it for a while, Lan WangJi spoke in a bitter voice, “... I only left for a few hours.”

Chapter 25

The first time he allows WWX to go off alone, he comes back supporting a curse mark on his leg and a whip mark on his ankle, having escaped JCs clutches once again! We can see from the above that seeing WWX in this condition has upset him. He can't bear to see WWX hurt, even if it is just a minor curse mark and a whip from Zidian.

Granted, WWX is more than capable of looking after himself and LWJ does not want to restrict WWXs movements if he can help it. But he has felt the pain of losing WWX once before and that's bound to affect him both mentally and emotionally. Which I think we begin to see rather clearly during the above chapter. As such, he is extra cautious when it comes to WWX's second chance at life.

To answer your question, if WWX had somehow managed to escape JCs clutches in a different way and LWJ thought he was going to be safe - he might not have done anything at all. If LWJ was absolutely sure JC would not pursue WWX and cause him any harm, I think he would have left WWX to live his second chance at life however he wished. As much as LWJ loves WWX, he doesn't want to force anything on him - he did that once before with the stolen kiss and he felt terrible for doing so afterwards. As such, I don't think LWJ would have tried to get close to WWX if things hadn't transpired the way they did on Dafan Mountain.

LWJ would just be happy as long as WWX was safe and well. If WWX did not want LWJ to be a part of his second chance at life, LWJ would respect that. Obviously LWJ wants to be with WWX whatever way we can (romance being the absolute ideal), but he loves him so much he wouldn't restrain him or force himself upon him. The last thing he wants to do is repeat what his father did to his mother.

Thankfully the minute WWX is given the choice of whether or not to stay with LWJ, even before he is no longer playing the part of "MXY", he still chooses to return to him. It doesn't take WWX long to release that he is very happy to have LWJ around and he wants nothing more than him to be a part of his life also 💕

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs novel #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #anon ask #answered asks

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dairy-farmer · 2 years

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Okay, but like an AU where Jason never died, so Tim never becomes Robin and meets Bruce as a civilian. Tim, whos parents are alive, but doesn't get along with so he applys to be Bruce Wayne's personal secretary, maybe as an intern. Bruce who generally doesn't seriously date many date girls, much less ones younger then his oldest son age suddenly clicking with his extremely young gender fluid secretary who sometimes wears teasing little skirts with oversized sweaters and sometimes flattering bottom downs with form-fitting slacks and everything in-between.

Bruce who was always wears a mask, is always the perfect public example of whatever he's being (the perfect playboy socialite, the perfect father, the perfect CEO, the perfect vigilante, but never showing all the cards in his deck to Anyone) suddenly meeting this adorable little civilian kid, and just... falling heads over heels in love. Letting down his barriers in a way he doesn't, a way he never has before. Struggling with his desire to share everything with Tim with whom he connects with so completely. Tim with his soft figure and beautiful, brilliant brain who meets him where he is in a way he didn't think was possible. Beautiful, perfect Tim.

Can you imagine the reaction when Bruce finally gives in and decided 'fuck it, Tim's the one' and marrying him or at the very least bringing him home and letting him see every part of him? The press tearing him part in the news for getting together with this 20 year secretary intern, his family hurt and assuming he's being mind controlled or at the very least manipulated by Tim, the shock and disbelief of his co-worker, both caped and otherwise. His kids, who are older then Tim who feel betrayed.

And Bruce who's finally with someone who can be that everything to him. Who owns him wholly just as he owns Tim. Who accepts him for the overly controlling kinky bastard he is. Tim, who will play any role in Bruce's life, be it housewife, lover, partner, and/or best friend and anything in-between loving how utterly codependent they quickly become. Maybe even getting a pregnant right off the bat and loving it, because he and Bruce are soulmates, and Tim just wants to be Bruce's everything (not that he doesn't love being knocked up in its own right, but for Bruce he would have as many kids as his petite little body could pop out). Who adore how Bruce's big, large hands completely swallow his plush little tits, who's monster cock wrecks his little pink pussy every night, who brands his ownership of Tim onto this skin with bruises from being held too tight, who speaks his ownership into Tim's ears and heart with candied words of adoration and possession, whispering how good, who perfect Tim is for him. How he'll never let him escape, how no one and nothing could ever take him from Bruce. How he'll stay and love him the way he deserves, and Tim melts for it. Falls in love a little bit more even as the world looks on them in horror and derision and tries to save Tim from the very thing that is his salvation.

Because Tim? Tim is just as broken and in need of Bruce as Bruce is. They do complete each other, afterall. ♡♡♡

(Sorry I just dumped this in your inbox. I typed this on my phone with I know it's riddled with typos but like I also had to share this with someone and I figured you were the one. Also, that AU you've been posting about, where Tim is obsessed with being pregnant very much inspired this, as I'm sure you can tell. Anyways, I live your writing and I hope you have a great day! Cheers ~♡♡♡)

ANON THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!!

it's so perfect, the scenario, their meeting, them just clicking so well.

with tim it's not instant. bruce doesn't magically meet him and think 'this is him, he's the one' it's something that seeps into him steadily the more he meets tim.

they're alike. very alike.

it's almost laughable to say because tim couldn't be more different from him. where bruce is big, tim is small. where bruce is rough, tim is smooth. where bruce is cruel, tim is sweet. but that's where the extent of their differences end. but there's something there... something in the static of the air or the angle of the light that strikes something in him. because when bruce looks at him he feels like he's looking into a mirror.

there's something cracked in tim, bruce can see it clear as day.

tim had a good upbringing, bruce knows that. he knows it from the file he gathered on him after the recruitment office sent him an email about his new secretary starting on Monday, here's his name, a copy of his I.D badge, make sure to forward any relevant work to his new email which is included below.

boarding school all throughout his childhood. world touring parents who got a divorce when tim was 14. a smooth seperation, not drawn out at all. they signed the papers and were now mr. jack marvin drake and miss. janet lynn wolfman. janet owned a penthouse in New York and was the owner of a historical artifacts gallery that hosted lavish events. tim visited her for every weekend and holiday in the custody agreement.

jack drake still resided in the city and had a rather nice mansion in the heart of gotham. he also owned several properties including the house next door to bruce's which was rented by a nice family who had a son that used a wheelchair. he'd insisted on tim continuing his education at a private school in gotham (which offered a discount to in-state residents). tim had graduated from his school a year early with honors and he'd been a member of the school's tennis team, the computer club, the AV club, and the gardening club.

a few weeks before he'd been hired, tim had moved out of the house he shared with his father and moved into a small studio by the bowery. phone records revealed that both his mother and father had been sending him calls that went unanswered and texts that alternated between threatening to revoke funds from his bank account and begging him to think about his future. bruce got his answer to that situation in the form of a letter from tim's guidence counselor expressing concern about tim's lack of motivation and interest in pursuing higher education.

jack drake had a master's in finance along with his wife who also had a PhD in anthropology. bruce could recall the few times alfred put his foot down and him telling bruce that he was absolutely not leaving the country without completing a college education was one of them.

he'd begged and threatened just like tim's parents had and part of bruce had thought of...just going anyway. but as a teenager, he'd never had the balls to do it.

tim, it seemed, did.

the extent to which bruce had felt for him at the time had been vague interest.

then he'd met him.

a soft blue cardigan with brown corduroy slacks that had a cotton button-up tucked in. shiny black shows and the sweetest blue eyes staring up at him. he looked...soft. he looked like a bunny and bruce felt like a coyote stumbling across him. so easy to tear up, to manipulate. he felt like he could lean over and bite tim, picking him up by the scruff.

bruce couldn't explain it but he felt like a creep with how much he wanted to just stare at tim.

tim is a good assitant. he learns quickly and is always on hand. all of bruce's assistants had been good, they could all do that too.

but tim outperforms them in one aspect.

he could anticipate bruce's needs.

he kept tissues in his pocket when bruce got a runny nose, extra pens of every color in hand in case bruce's ran out. candy in a jar when bruce got the occasional craving for something sweet. mints in a little metal tin in case bruce forgot to brush his teeth and had to speak at a meeting. a sewing kit for when bruce popped a button.

bruce's stress of the day at the office slowly...floated away.

he didn't worry about misreading a document because tim double-checked it for him. he never missed a deadline because tim made sure everything was allotted a specific time and completed three days in advance. when he was absent from work with an injury or a case that required continuous surveillance, tim provided a cover for him.

but that last one was where something tugged inside him. the days where he wasn't in the office, when he didn't see tim. they seemed so much...harder.

he'd stretch his hand out for something and there'd be no one there filling his need. he'd turn his head with a request on the edge of his tongue only to be met with empty space.

tim he'd...he'd become necessary for bruce's function. for his work.

civilian work at least.

as batman he was still carrying a heavy load made heavier by the fact that jason was still in college and could only offer so much of his time.

with jason being away, dick only occasionally visiting, damian preferring the titans and dick over him it got....bruce was....lonely.

leaguers all had things going on, bruce's children were all perfectly fine without his hovering and tim...

bruce started spending more time at work. he started striking up conversations, asking tim about his interests, listening to his opinions and bruce found himself smiling more, laughing.

tim had such quick wit and a dry sense of humor. he could see as well as bruce could how full of shit so many of W.E's upper management was. when bruce made some vague joke making a reference to an old book that was out of print, tim understood it. he understood it and laughed.

tim went with him on business trips and, bruce knew he was being inappropriate- he was crossing a boundary of employer-employee behavior. but when it came to it...they shared a hotel room.

they'd had separate beds but bruce he'd just...he'd wanted to keep the conversation they were having on roman influences in modern media culture going. they'd been so happy chatting on the plane and at the airport and then in the car. when they'd arrived to the hotel and the concierge had asked if he was checking one or two in he'd....

tim had gone off to finding a vending machine for water because bruce had coughed in the car and tim picked up on his thirst.

so bruce had lied.

just a small one, not even the worse lie he'd ever told in his life.

he'd said one and told tim that the company had screwed up somehow and they were sharing. tim hadn't hesitated to believe him and that night it was- it was one of the best night's of bruce's life.

he and tim had stayed up late like two kids at a sleepover. they'd ordered exorbitant amounts of room service and watched the movie. tim had explained every joke and punchline bruce hadn't. bruce had tightened his grip on tim to reassure him during each jumpscare and they'd fallen asleep in a bad position that left them with sore necks in the morning. they'd barely made it to the meeting in time and rather than being stressed or pissed like he normally would, bruce chuckled and smiled at the sight of tim darting around the room, gathering both his bruce's notes and cursing every deity that existed (some of which bruce had met) for his alarm not going off.

they exchange numbers. personal numbers and bruce sends tim pictures and messages that have nothing to do with the job. telling him about a good restaurant that just opened up and would tim like to join him in trying it out.

bruce doesn't recall when the line was crossed. doesn't remember when he sent the first 'i miss you' text and tim replied with hearts and and 'i miss you too'.

there should've been an alarm that went off in bruce's head the same way it did when he got...too close to someone, too invested. there should've been another alarm going off about professionalism. about him making tim uncomfortable by putting moves on him. on the unfair power dynamics between them because what if tim was just 'reciprocating' because he didn't want to lose his job. on the danger inherently present there for himself. how tim could decide to stop it, how he could go to HR or the media and talk about how bruce wayne won't stop bothering him, coming onto him, making him uncomfortable.

but that thought hadn't even crossed bruce's mind. the idea that tim wasn't as interested as he was. the idea that they're doing something bad.

there's no way to spin their interactions as anything other than inappropriate. maybe that's why bruce hides it. why he uses a separate phone to talk to tim, why he doesn't tell alfred or any of his children about tim even though his chest begs to say things like 'today tim said, today tim did, today tim told me'.

he wants to talk about tim all the time with someone. wants to tell them about how wonderful he is, how amazing he is, how he just gets bruce. but something possessive in bruce always stops him.

because he doesn't want to share tim's existence with the world and because he doesn't want them to go digging and then frown at him with the judgement he knows would be there.

because tim is young.

very young. he's about three years younger than jason and eight years younger than dick. he's more than half of bruce's age.

bruce is so much older, has so much more life experience. he's tim's boss.

so bruce keeps quiet, keeps it a secret even though he's desperate for tim to stay by his side at all times. the hours in a 9 to 5 aren't enough. he want's to bring tim home with him. he wants to pack him in his briefcase like he does his paperwork and carry him home, he wants to lay tim down on his fluffed up pillows and stare at his sweet face as he falls asleep like he did that night in the hotel.

he wants to wake up and see tim's drowsy eyes as they blink open and squint at the light flooding the room.

he wants. he wants. he wants.

bruce moves into the penthouse. he tells the family it's because of a case he wants to more closely monitor.

bruce invites tim up one night, he makes him dinner using a recipe he'd closely studied and analyzed so there was no way he could fuck it up.

they share a bottle of wine and a piece of cake tim had bought from a bakery. bruce's eyes linger on the frosting coating tim's lips for too long, his hands clench around his fork when a pink tongue darts out to lick it up.

tim was pretty. very pretty.

he wore soft, nice clothes that fit his body so nicely. a-line skirts that fanned his creamy thighs and were likely much shorter than was approved by the dress code. tight slacks that showed off his every curve and tight little ass. bruce knew he didn't wear a bra to cup his soft little tits. he knew because he never saw a peek of its outline when tim wore white white shirts or tight tops that revealed the soft slope of his breasts.

but bruce got confirmation that night when he slid his hands under tim's shirt and felt the plushness of them. he rolled pink nippled between his fingers until they hardened and sucked on the buttery softness of them until tim was gasping.

bruce hadn't had a condom on hand. he hadn't planned it, he really hadn't. he'd just wanted to eat dinner with tim.

tim hadn't minded at all, begging bruce to fuck him harder, to fuck him faster. and tim was so small and bruce should've worried about hurting him, about preparing him well enough to take him but bruce hadn't he'd just fucked. his cock had ripped into tim until tim was arching and twitching around him, cumming from bruce's cruel fingers digging into his clit with a fury.

tim had gone boneless and then softly urged bruce to finish, to take what he needed. anything that he wanted, tim would give him.

it was a long night and by morning bruce had still wanted more.

when they were alone in his office, bruce would slip a hand under tim's skirt and pump a few fingers in him. at the copy machine, bruce would slide past and grope his tit. while tim poured him coffee bruce would have a hand on his ass. bruce waits until the office is empty and devoid of anyone including the cleaning crew before flipping tim's skirt up and taking what he needs.

tim is all too happy to give it to him, expression twisted in bliss and thanking bruce with every pump into him. 'thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyou-'

bruce asks tim to move into the penthouse when the rest of the manor starts asking why he hasn't been back in awhile. even if tim's not with him, bruce will know exactly where he is and what he's doing.

bruce watches tim through the cameras. he watches as tim tidies up, as he irons bruce's suits for him. watches as he sweeps and dusts and starts up dinner than bruce will be joining him for. bruce tells alfred he has something to take care and to wrap his plate up, he'll take it for lunch the next day. bruce enters the penthouse like a husband home from a long day of work and kisses tim in greeting.

tim's place by his side is usual sight around W.E. at gala's 'bruce wayne's assistant' accompanies him. the media and dick joke about bruce working him to the bone. they still haven't met him. bruce keeps his tim in the penthouse and at home.

bruce's possessiveness hasn't waned and allowing the newspapers to get photos of them is just another way for bruce to stake his claim over tim. he's mine.

tim belongs to him. he stays in the penthouse like a good little wife and brue loves the sight of him when he opens the door but it...it's not enough.

there's something missing from the picture and bruce realizes it while he's rolling tim's soft hand between his palms.

"there should be a ring here," bruce tells tim softly as his cock is nestled inside his warm, wet, heat.

bruce makes the announcement three days later during a standard interview. the man with a notepad and microphone is wrapping up and he turns to bruce and the camera with a final question said jokingly.

"anything you'd like to add mr. wayne"

and bruce smiles, a genuine thing that has both the interviewer and the camerawoman faltering.

he replies with overflowing happiness in his voice.

"i'm getting married."

no one remembers what the interview was about, all anyone cares about is that one final line.

he's getting married. bruce wayne is getting married.

bruce's phone is ringing and buzzing with the amount of calls and texts he's receiving. his inbox if overflowing with emails from HR and Tamara Fox who is in charge of public relations.

press interview, in the morning. all the newspapers in gotham are banging at the door for it. bruce replies with some halfhearted agreement more focused on the sight of tim staring at the diamond ring on his finger with awe.

the press interview is...it could've gone better. if it was 20 years ago the vitriol and edges of disgust would've been aimed at tim. he would've been seen as a 'golddigger' a 'tramp'.

now he's a victim. and bruce is the big bad man that manipulated his 17 year old assistant into being his plaything.

one of the reporters ask if tim is pregnant and if that's why they're getting married and some part of burce shivers with pleasure at the idea.

tim fat and rounded with his child. his belly full with bruce's baby.

if tim got pregnant. he'd never be able to leave bruce.

the crowd goes silent at the smile that creeps across bruce's face and a tensed hush falls over them when bruce replied with a 'not yet'.

tim watches the interview and bawls into bruce's arms when he returns.

"did you mean it? did you really mean it?"

bruce spends the rest of the night showing that he did.

his family isn't happy with him. the justice league isn't happy with him. though the latter is gentler about it.

asking specific questions and making pointed jabs about bruce's age, remarking about how young tim is and isn't this all going a little fast?

"nonsense." bruce replies to that one. "we've known each other for three years now."

"and how long have you been together for those years?" clark asks, concerned furrow to his brow because the planet is running the story like there's no tomorrow. lois land has been encroaching on viki vale's territory and they're in the middle of some kind of dick-measuring contest.

bruce stares at clark and raises a brow at the less than subtle approach.

"we had sex after he turned 18 if that's what you're worried about"

and clark's face twists.

"bruce." he says later. "you have to know that there's something not right with this, don't you. he...tim is- i'm sure he's a wonderful kid but that's just it, he's a kid."

bruce knew his announcement wouldn't be well received. he knew he'd be burning some bridges but if a single person around him cared for him even an ounce as much as tim did- they'd understand.

bruce had been prepared to be disappointed. and he was.

dick is furious and jason is uncomfortable and damian is...quiet.

"his parents say they haven't spoke to him in three years bruce- do you have any idea how that sounds? that he cut contact with them after meeting you?"

dick is angry because he doesn't want to come to terms with the possibility that bruce was doing something bad under their noses.

"tim had already been estranged from them before he met me, you can check his phone records i have them here."

and dick's face twists when brue offers them to him.

bruce overhears jason talking to a tense alfred about it in the kitchen.

"he's younger than i am alfie, how could he think this is okay? i mean- shit you know i checked my yearbook because i recognized the name 'tim drake' since they're blasting it everywhere? we went to high school together alfie! he was timmy drake, the kid they kept beating up for wearing the girl's uniform!"

well that at least cleared the air on that because some articles had been less than kind in painting bruce as some kind of perverse boss that made his employees dress in skirts for his sexual pleasure.

bruce returns to the penthouse one day to see it trashed and immediately turns on the emergency alert while he searches the apartment with fear filling his throat. he finds tim roughed up in the bedroom with damian pointing a katana at his neck an demanding that he 'release' bruce from his spell.

dick is the one who talks him down while bruce fusses over tim who is begging bruce to not take it out on damian that he didn't hurt him at all and that's when bruce realizes his hands are clenched into shaking fists and there's an anger in him that has his jaw trembling.

jason is silent as he looks around. staring at the photos littering the bedside and around the penthouse, all the signs of its two inhabitants.

"you've had him living here with you. haven't you?" he asks, voice devoid of emotion. dick freezes and also begins to silently take in their surroundings.

bruce doesn't deny it, too focused on tim who has a small cut on his hand from the kitchen knife. he'd been in the middle of preparing dinner.

despite the backlash, despite the disapproval from the media, his family, and fellow heroes. bruce proceeds forward with tim.

tim will be his, in body, in soul, and in name.

selina pops up at one point, likely sent by the family to...reason with him? seduce him?

that hasn't worked in a long time and she knows it too. and given the reveal of tim, she finally knows why.

she stares at tim with cat-like eyes as he stirs bruce's coffee for him, adding just the right amount of cream for him.

tim is submissive, something she never was. when bruce tugged, she tugged back harder.

but bruce has grown tired of that game, of the effort.

he wants to take.

he just wants to take. and tim. sweet, beautiful, perfect tim.

he wants to give. he wants to give and give and give so that bruce can take and take and take.

they're perfect for each other. a reflection of each other. two sides of the same coin. soulmates.

selina is the first one to get it. but she frowns at it, something tugging at his expression and her brow. something that looks like concern and worry.

she doesn't say anything to bruce when she leaves.

she turns to tim and offers him a slip of paper in a handshake. she thinks bruce doesn't notice because she thinks she's too crafty for him.

but he does. he's always noticed.

tim hands him the note without a second thought when she leaves, not even glancing at it.

'if you ever need help call me xxx-xxx-xxxx'

bruce crumples it up and hands it back to tim who tosses it into the lit fire of bruce's office.

bruce's wedding day is beautiful.

invitations have been sent out and surprisingly everyone has turned out. but no one looks happy like guests at a wedding should be. tim's parents are there. equal parts sour-faced and concerned.

tim walks himself down the aisle.

no one gives him away.

because that would imply that they owned him and were gifting him to bruce.

no. bruce owned tim. no one was gifting him his own possession.

bruce holds tim tight the entire night, he never takes his arm off him at all once he signs his name on that marriage certificate.

janet and jack, in the same room for the first time since they divorce congratulate them with great relucatance, jack's eyes linger on where bruce's hands are on his son's waist and janet stares at tim with so much grief like she's watching her son march to his death which bruce, personally, thinks is overdramatic.

despite the moral objection, their wedding goes off without a hitch.

he supposed it's like people going to spectate a horrible accident. like watching a child play with a knife with morbid fascination.

the media says they won't even last a year.

but on the day of the prediction, rather than a separation or divorce, bruce welcomes his new baby to the world.

dick had gone green with sickness when bruce had announced that tim was pregnant. jason had glared down at his plate, fork tight in his grip, and damian's lips had pursed.

at some point they had accepted it. that this had been bruce's decision through and through. perhaps it was after wonderwoman tensely asked him questions with the lasso, a confused martian manhunter read his mind, and a quiet zatanna checked him over for magic.

no mind control. no compulsion. no signs of interfereing.

bruce had done this.

he'd dated, fucked, married, and impregnated someone young enough to be his child.

the media gets over it. eventually.

oh how fascinating, another rich douchbag marrying someone way younger than him. bruce and tim don't even have the worst age gap in gotham or hollywood or any upper circles.

it's just that...they'd thought bruce had been better than that.

the family and the league doesn't.

tim is rarely alone. he lives in the penthouse ever since bruce had him retire for the sake of their baby.

bruce watches them on the cameras as they check on tim, ask him if he's alright. they ask him if bruce ever...does anything to him. if he ever makes tim feel uncomfortable or make him do something he doesn't want to do.

tim has their baby in his arms as they ask him, as he's rocking or nursing him with careful hands, stroking his dark hair with all the tender love and care that he does with bruce, if he feels safe.

that if he wanted to leave, could he?

and tim stares at them with dreamy eyes and breathless sigh and asks them "why would i ever want to leave?"

and bruce's heart swells up with so much emotion he can barely contain himself.

tim never returns to work, even when their first child is old enough because bruce keeps him pregnant. he keeps him swelled with his children and plugged with bruce's seed.

he kisses his milk swollen tits and suckles sweet milk out of him with gentle sucks that have tim gasping as bruce pounds him full of more and more and more.

bruce gets a new email for his new secretary a few weeks later after tim turns in his letter of resignation.

a virtual assistant, freshly developed by lucius fox.

bruce shows it to tim half in amusement and exasperation because why would they think he'd do "what he did" to his new assistant. tim was special.

a one in a million case.

there was no one and would be no one like him.

bruce knows that people are digging around in bruce's past, trying to find a pattern of behavior but they wouldn't find any because bruce had never been at all inappropriate with other secretaties.

he knew they'd find something though.

they'd find the hotel room stays that started when tim was still 17 but bruce had been telling the truth when he told clark they hadn't slept together until tim had been 18.

that would lead to nothing. so would questioning tim's parents and friends.

they could dig and dig all the way until they reached china but they'd find nothing.

bruce loved tim. he'd never ever even dream of hurting him. and tim loved him in turn.

with all his soft hands and loving eyes and sweet kisses.

bruce watched in his monitor.

he watched as tim gently played with their squealing baby in the penthouse. watched as the sweet bump in his abdomen was lovingly pat.

bruce watched tim's eyes drift up and meet his in the camera and he watched him smile and blow a kiss at him with adoration in his eyes.

bruce was a damaged man. broken with cracks so deep they couldn't be fixed. he needed to own, possess, and control with a compulsion he couldn't resist and tim- his cracks were right in the same place to reflect bruce's.

but instead of feeling that itching want that bruce did- he felt an emptiness, a need, a desire to be owned.

they were perfect for each other.

no.

they were meant for each other

----

i love LOVED this just the drama!!! the tension!! the yearning desire and fulfillment they can give each other!!!!!

#anonymous #answered asks #asks #civilian au

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mothandpidgeon · 2 years

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Helter Skelter (cult leader!Ezra x f!reader) - Chapter 6 [the end]

MASTERLIST - TAG LIST

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Pairing: cult leader!Ezra x f reader, dark!Ezra x f reader

Series summary: When you meet a mysterious thinker named Ezra, you join up with his followers and become a part of their family. Your new life is full of psychedelics, sex, and mind bending experiences. But there’s something dark lurking in Ezra’s philosophy. Will you discover it before it’s too late?

Words: ~3.7k

Rating: E 18+!

Warnings: SPOILERS dark!Ezra, elements of dubcon (this is a cult so there is psychological manipulation), cults (obviously), pregnancy, p in v sex, oral sex, pregnancy loss, violence, blood (feel free to let me know anbout anything ive missed)

a/n: This is the end of the story. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. I can’t believe that it took me this long to get this fic completed. I remember messaging @wordsandwhiskey about an acid trip to the Green and it feels like ages ago. My personal life has been a journey. I’m working on publishing a fucking book. But I’ve wanted to come back and finish this out. I pretty much never get into drama or get personal but here’s some tea. Before I even posted the first chapter of this fic, there was a lot of negative shit being said about its content. I was blocked by people who I’d never interacted with. I saw conversations about me bleed over to twitter. I got nasty asks (not even on anon) that I simply deleted because I knew replying would just get them off. I actually considered not posting this fic at all and when my amazing friends convinced me that was silly, I still felt so much anxiety about the asks I might get. I remember posting the first chapter not because I was excited to share a story but as evidence, to prove that whatever had been assumed about what I wrote wasn’t true. Anyway, to get to the point, I know this isn’t one of the more popular things that I’ve written but thank you for reading it. Thank you for reblogging it. Thanks for just giving it a chance. I actually love this fic for all of the reasons other people hate it. I love hearing that I’ve given readers goosebumps and that they feel the pull of Ezra’s charm despite knowing how dangerous he is. I’m really proud of this. All of that being said, I warned you from the very beginning, there is no happy ending. This story gets darker still if you can believe it. I hope it thrills you.

That night there was a bonfire. Everyone was giddy, especially Cee who’d laid her hand gently on your belly, her eyes as big as saucers. She threw her arms around your neck and your tears had come even harder.

You sat in the grass by the fire soaking in its warmth, your body deliciously exhausted from emotion. Your face hurt from smiling. Ezra was behind you, his knees outside of your own, fingers tracing the skin of your bicep. On the opposite side, Clo and Rieve had already started making out. Tracy situated herself beside Ezra but you hardly noticed. When she tried passing a joint to Ezra he waved her away.

“You’re not going to leave now, are you?” Cee asked. She perched in front of you with her knees folded under. Her cheeks glowed in the warm light of the flames.

You cupped her face in your palm.

“Of course not, birdie” Ezra’s voice came as he wrapped his arm around your middle and rocked you side to side.

You laughed and Cee let out a whoop as she stood and started spinning around. She looked beautiful and delicate like a magical woodland creature. Her silhouette was dark against the thin fabric of her dress, illuminated by orange. You could feel Tracy watching you until Cee pulled her to her feet with a bubble of laughter.

Ezra pinned you in closer to his chest, pressing a lump in the denim of his jeans at the small of your back. “I want you so desperately,” he purred against your ear. A shiver of pleasure spread over your skin. His eyes looked black as they slid across you, deep enough to fall into.

He got up and took you by the hand, leading you back to the house. It was dark inside, everything covered in shadow but you could find your way up to the bedroom blind. The bon fire shone through the bedroom windows and you could hear the far away sounds of the others singing.

Ezra laid you out on the big bed. It wasn’t Muriel’s bed anymore. This place was yours now. They’d claimed this house, your family, made a place for you, for this. You slid out of the dress, your dress, and you could barely breathe as you felt Ezra’s glinting eyes drinking you in.

“My beautiful starlight queen,” he rasped. He cupped your breast and found your nipple, sucking furiously. You moaned deeply and he made a noise of approval that set you on fire.

When he was finished, his lips were glistening and he kissed you. The sour taste from retching earlier still lingered in your mouth but Ezra didn’t seem to care. His tongue burrowed against yours eagerly as if he wanted to devour you from the inside out. He wanted all of you, even the vile parts. And you would take him the same way. Whatever had revolted you, whatever you’d feared, none of it compared to the feeling of Ezra wanting you, needing you. He’d become a part of you, one that you couldn’t cut out.

You grasped his standing cock and tugged. Ezra let out a throaty groan but his hand encircled your wrist.

“Patience, Star,” he whispered, guiding your touch away. “My most precious jewel.”

Ezra put his lips to your fingertips and then slunk down your body, his nose trailing a heated path across your belly. His hand slid up your leg towards your center and you gasped. He knelt between your legs and inhaled deeply. The feeling of his stubble against the sensitive skin of your thigh lit up your entire body.

“I want to taste you. You’re already sweet as honey,” he said as he parted your thighs. “Soon you’ll be ripe as a peach.” His mouth surrounded you, tongue coaxing more release from you. He growled into you, vibrating up your spine and making your back arch away from the mattress. “Delicious.”

His palm splayed out on your belly as his tongue swirled over you, drinking you in. Ezra continued on noisily, drowning out the sounds of the celebrations outside. Your eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by the mounting sensation, dizzy and glorious. He edged you closer and closer with his long strokes. A tingle burned up from Ezra’s mouth to your throat and it burst out in a feral grunt through gritted teeth.

“That’s right,” he cooed as you came down from your high. He crawled up beside you, held your chin in his big hand and put his slick lips to yours.

You were still reeling, pulsing at your core, and breathless as Ezra rolled you over him. His eyes darted over your body, greedily trying to take all of you in at once. You felt needy, desperate for more of him so you rocked up on your knees and slid down onto him. The long, straining sound he made was delicious.

You threw your head back, rolling your hips over him. Ezra’s hand found places to touch and grab– the curve of your hip, the muscles in your calf. It felt like you were floating, like you could take him up to the Green with your ecstasy alone.

Ezra’s hips stuttered against you, brows twisted, lost in pleasure. You pressed your chest against his, skin sticky with perspiration. He buried his face in your hair, snarling, and you felt his nose against the sweat on your temple.

“Let me defile you once again,” he said.

His ragged voice made you come apart and, just as you crested, your body quivering and plummeting like you were sliding downhill, you felt him leave you. You clenched around nothing, a cry escaping you as you panted. Ezra put your limp body onto your back and you opened your eyes to see him up on his knees, pulling at himself. Soon he was marking your stomach with his hot release, swearing and grunting.

Ezra was still sleeping when you slid out of bed. He’d pulled you into his chest before he dozed off, a heavy arm draped across your middle.

“It’ll be a girl,” he told you. “We’ll call her Ruby.” He brushed his lips against your shoulder, the stubble on his face rough and wet. “Stay with me.”

You wouldn’t dream of being separated from him now.

Dawn was breaking, painting the room in a dull purple glow. The house was quiet and you assumed the others had gone to sleep just a few hours earlier. There was a full length mirror on the door to the armoire in the corner. You crept over and studied the reflection of your naked body.

How had you missed it? You spent so much time in your own skin and yet you hadn’t paid any attention to the swell that was growing. It wasn’t a dramatic change, a little fullness in the belly like you’d feasted on a Thanksgiving dinner. You realized now that your breasts had swollen like a balloon threatening to pop. No wonder Ezra had spent all night clutching them in his sleep.

You smoothed your open hand across your stomach. What would she look like? You hoped she had Ezra’s eyes, his thick, dark hair. A smile bloomed on your lips as you pictured him with a soft little child in the crook of his arm. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from letting out a laugh.

Ezra wouldn’t let you out of bed once the mid-morning came. When you told him it was your turn to make coffee, he chuckled. “Cee can attend to that,” he said and began kissing your neck again.

You arched your back, wiggling closer to him. It could always be like this and, still, it would never be enough of him.

When you sighed you heard his deep purr in your ear. “Mhmm.”

His fingers had just began to tease between your legs when you heard the door squeak open. Tracy appeared with her hands behind her back and Ezra unwrapped himself, sitting up against the wooden headboard.

“Harmony,” Ezra said.

Irritation prickled at you as she sat herself down on the corner of the bed. You rested your head on Ezra’s shoulder, tangled your fingers into his.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” Tracy said. “Star, you’re like, totally glowing.”

“She is,” Ezra agreed. “Yet Star has always been incandescent.”

“What’s it feel like?” she tried.

She looked at Ezra skittishly trying to see if he was listening. You noticed it, though she hid it well. For a moment, you felt bad for her.

“I don’t know,” you told her. “It’s special.”

“Far out,” she responded. “I’ve never held a baby before.”

The image that popped into your head made you feel nauseated again. You had the urge to snatch away a child that wasn’t there. Suddenly, you grasped at your stomach and whined, curling into yourself. Ezra was immediately attentive, concern cutting his brow. You breathed in a hiss of air and buried your face into him.

“Star,” he said.

“Hurts,” you replied.

“I’ll get her some water,” Tracy said and rushed out.

Ezra rubbed your back gently, murmuring reassurances. After a moment you sighed and wiped sweat off of your brow.

“What’s troubling you?” Ezra asked.

“It’s nothing,” you told him. Your voice sounded weak. “I feel better.”

“It appears to be a wealth of something,” he said.

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just felt this…vibration.”

You could see Ezra’s eyes harden just slightly. Tracy was in the room again.

“Drink this, Star,” she said.

You winced when she handed you the glass and when she put her palm on your shoulder you shivered.

“Harmony, allow her to rest,” Ezra said.

Tracy flushed and nodded, quickly retreating from the room. Ezra got up and slid into his jeans. He tilted your chin up for a kiss.

“Sleep,” he whispered and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

You never saw Tracy again.

You didn’t know what Ezra said to her but she was gone the next morning. There was a part of you, the part that had wondered about old Muriel, that questioned whether she’d actually left of her own free will. But you’d been able to ignore that voice before so just enjoyed the fact that she was gone and you were here with Ezra and the family and Ruby.

You were happier than you could ever remember. Every morning you woke up with your legs tangled around Ezra’s– hot, naked skin cooled by the breeze from the open window. Occasionally Cee would sleep next to you but Ezra, he was all yours. He didn’t want anyone else, never spent the night in another bed, would leave you breathless and spent over and over again. During the day, he touched you carefully and watched you with an intense desire that made you feel dizzy. Ezra whispered in your ear about how exceptional you were, how beautiful you’d become, how he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

The others took extra care of you, never asking you to volunteer for chores. Cee would pick flowers for you and write poems with words that rhymed with ‘Ruby.’ Even Clo was sweet to you and brought a pint of ice cream back when she and Rieve drove into town.

It was the best week of your life. If only you’d known how quickly it would all change.

You were on the porch that afternoon. The sky was the most perfect shade of blue, warm sun bathing the yard. It was autumn and the only leaves that still held onto the trees were red and purple. Cee braided Clo’s hair on the front steps. Rieve had just finished chopping wood. He laid against the painted floor of the porch, occasionally plucking a string on his guitar.

Ezra was happy that day. He had you in his lap, moving lazily in the rocking chair as his fingers slid your skirt up inch by inch with excruciating patience. Usually he’d be rambling on with one of his stories but he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Instead, he hummed a tune that was only loud enough for the two of you to hear.

“What song is that?” you asked him in a whisper.

He looked up at you with shining eyes and a mischievous smile. Your skirt wandered further up your thigh. Ezra opened his mouth to answer but he was distracted by the sound of crunching gravel. You turned to see a car pulling up the driveway.

“Who could that be, Birdie?” Ezra asked.

In the corner of your eye you saw Cee go rigid. Rieve sat up on his elbows.

The station wagon pulled to a stop close to the house. Its plates said Wisconsin or Washington, you never could quite remember. A woman in the passenger seat got out like a spring. She was somewhere in her 50s or 60s and the sour look on her face did little to make her look youthful. Her strawberry blonde perm was covered by a plastic kerchief and a little handbag bounced off of her arm.

Ezra slid you off of his lap and stood, stretching like a cat that had just woken up from a nap in the sun. “Afternoon,” he said.

The woman ignored him. Her little eyes looked over the property and you noticed how thickly she’d coated her lashes in mascara. “Harold, look at this place,” she said in disgust.

Harold unfolded himself out of the driver’s seat and had just managed to put his hat on as she berated him. He was balding and looked tired.

“How can I be of service to you?” Ezra inquired.

“Now, what’s going on here?” Harold asked.

“Where’s Muriel?” the woman demanded.

You swallowed. Ezra had dispatched with the old ladies easily but this woman was raring to fight.

Ezra looked between them he answered, “I’m afraid she isn’t at home.”

“Oh, don’t give us that malarkey,” Harold groaned.

Clo giggled quietly and you shot her a look. Cee’s body seemed to shrink on the other end of the steps.

“Aunt Muriel!” the woman began to call, craning her neck towards the windows on the second floor. “Aunt Muriel! It’s me, Rita!”

“Rita,” Ezra said, his voice as steady as ever. “You’ll have to forgive me but I have some tragic news.”

“I’ve heard all about it,” Rita snapped. She thrust a hand into her purse and pulled out a folded page. “A letter of condolence from her Rotary Club.”

Rieve started to gnaw at the corner of his fingernail.

“That’s right,” Ezra told her.

“And who the hell are you people?” Her face was blotchy with righteous anger as she peered at the letter. “Her granddaughter?” she scoffed. “She never had any children.”

“We live here,” you said. You weren’t sure how the words had come out so easily, so defiantly but you were standing tall with your arms crossed.

“Why in God’s name would a bunch of hooligans be living in my aunt’s house?” she snarled. “Where is she? What have you done with her?”

“She is deceased,” Ezra said, some of the cold irritation edging into his voice.

“What is this?” she went on. “You’ve turned the place into some kind of whorehouse?”

You could see Ezra’s shoulders rising and falling as he tried to keep his breath steady. Your jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might shatter.

“Harold, get back in the car. We’re going to the police!” Rita said.

Just as you’d spoken so easily, everything that happened next came like an avalanche. Your vision tunneled. Rita turned towards the station wagon. You grabbed up the axe that had been left resting by the steps. Its wooden handle was still warm from Rieve’s grip.

THWACK.

It was kind of funny. The noise of blunt side of the axe connecting with Rita’s head was a lot quieter than you would have expected. And she didn’t immediately crash to the ground either. Instead, she reeled around, stepped towards you on wobbly feet, all while making a guttural groan.

Harold cried out and lunged for you and Clo tackled him to the ground. You hardly noticed, still incensed, smashing the axe into Rita’s skull again until she’d finally gone down.

All the while, your mind flashed hot. You weren’t going to lose Ezra because of this cunt. You hadn’t let anything come between you. You weren’t going to give up this life, not when you were finally happy, not when Ruby was on the way. You weren’t going to see your family threatened. Not by this bitch who hadn’t even noticed her aunt was six feet under. Fuck her. Fuck anybody that would keep you from what was yours.

Harold was screaming his head off, begging and scraping his fingers at the dirt. Somehow he managed to wriggle away and scramble onto his feet. You were so caught up in your fury that you didn’t see him approach, didn’t brace yourself when he leapt at you, circling you around the middle and pulling you to the ground. You landed hard on your side and you heard Cee call out your name but you didn’t feel anything at all even as the wind was knocked out of your lungs. Reive pulled Harold off you easily and Clo started kicking him in the stomach.

When Rita was finally down in the dirt, she flopped around twitching like a fish out of water until she stopped moving altogether. There was so much blood. A pool of between her matted hair and the clear plastic kerchief, smeared up the handle of the axe, staining your dress all up your belly. There was blood on your legs, too hot and sticky on your thighs.

You were breathing hard and you struggled to stand, the axe suddenly so heavy. You felt your heart beating fast in your chest, too fast. No, it was beating lower. Two heartbeats out of rhythm. You were shaking and you turned back to the porch, an eerie silence taking hold as Harold stopped whimpering. The axe handle slid from your grip and it fell with a thud against the earth. Cee was staring, a look of terror over her features. It made you laugh. There was nothing to worry about now. You’d done what you had to do but you were all safe now.

Your vision was going blurry.

Ezra was on the steps, motionless, his dark eyes on you, brows raised, lips parted. His expression was hard to read but he looked so handsome like that. He was a yard away but somehow he caught you before you fell to your knees. Everything was getting dark and you were so dizzy. Now there was yet another heartbeat pounding in your ears. You felt Ezra’s palm on your belly and the last thing you heard before you passed out was his voice saying your name.

“Star.”

You sit in the hard metal chair. How many times has he said your name?

“Where are they?” one of the doctors asks.

You begin to shake, your whole body shivering, tears budding in your eyes. The beige cinderblocks of the room seem to radiate cold, all the walls bare except for a clock. On the other side of the white table are three men, one with glasses, another taking notes.

“Where are the others?” the doctor asks.

You take a shuddering breath.

“On the Green,” you say, plastering a smile on your face but your lips twitch and quiver.

You know that’s not true. But you want it to be, desperately. You close your eyes every night before you fall asleep on the thin mattress and you see Ezra there, waiting for you. He has to be waiting for you.

“Come on, Star,” one of them says. His voice is tender but the words are cruel. “They left you there, didn’t they? They took you to the hospital but they didn’t stick around. They got out of dodge.”

Your head begins to shake back and forth uncontrollably and the tears fall down onto your cheeks. Your chest is so tight it burns.

“Ezra abandoned you.”

You nearly double over. This doctor doesn’t know anything. He’s lying to you. Ezra loves you. You and Ruby. But Ruby’s just an ache in the pit of your stomach, a punch in the fucking gut. You cry and tremble.

“Stop fooling yourself. They left you behind. Don’t you think you deserve better than that?” he asks and has the audacity to sound concerned.

You want to tell him to fuck off. He doesn’t know shit about it. But you just close your eyes.

“We’re trying to help you, Star.”

The words to one of Cee’s poems come to mind and you recite it silently over and over until you can’t hear what anyone’s telling you.

“I think we’ve put her through enough today,” someone says.

Once you settle down and stop hearing your pulse in your ears, after instructions to take deep breaths, they secure the cold cuffs around your wrists before escorting you back down the hall. You can’t be sure how long it’s been since you came here. And where here is, you’re not certain of either. They give you medicine that dulls your memories, makes you sluggish and puts the edges of things out of focus. Sometimes you wonder if this isn’t just a bad trip, a wrong turn on the way to the Green. If that’s the case it’ll end, that’s what you tell yourself.

They take you back to your room. Or is it a cell? You wait.

You close your eyes and remember the feeling of Ezra’s touch, the softness of Cee’s lips. It’s lonely here but they’re still with you.

Tonight, when you fall asleep on the threadbare cot, wrapped in the itchy smock you always seem to be wearing, you wake up again on the Green.

It’s dark and there's a chill in the air and you can hear the bugs chirping. You’re not wearing your suit but the air smells clean and moist. You make your way through the tall ferns, foliage tickling your shins, the ground plush beneath your bare feet. A glow outlines the rust colored trunks— a lantern hung outside of a tent. And you know what’s waiting inside.

THE END

#cult leader! ezra #ezra prospect #ezra prospect fic #ezra fanfic #dark!ezra #prospect fic #prospect #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic

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