#it's kind of lonely on the original side
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I forgot how lonely it is to write original fiction.
Where are the kudos? The subscriptions? The comments? The people cheerleading me chapter to chapter? Where are the kind words and compliments and reassurances that what I'm writing isn't complete crap? Where are the unhinged emojis? The asks on Tumblr? Where are my mutuals in my dms apologizing for not reading the latest chapter right away (side note, you know you don't have to apologize at all, right??). Where is the fanart? Where are the recs?
Where is my motivation to keep going?
It's something I've been thinking about a lot, actually, lately. How the experience of writing fanfic is so unique. How you already have an audience, willing and waiting and captive. And that's really it, isn't it? You have an audience. It's almost performative, writing fanfic. It's being on a stage, a one-person show (or two, if you do it with a friend); it's getting live reactions to your performance, it's feeding off the energy of the crowd and informing it back in a feedback loop; it's improvised, sometimes, in almost-real-time. It's building something that you couldn't have built by yourself. A thing that takes on a life of its own.
It's an experience you can't get writing original fiction, and, honestly, not having it is making it hard to write something original at all.
#This is an ode to fandom in a way#Also side note like#How tf do you create OCs?#How I ask you???#Writing#Fandom#AO3#Fanfiction
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“itadori, please respect his personal space—”
“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”
“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”
peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.
you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.
a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.
[satoru]: send nudes?
you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.
peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.
he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.
but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.
when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.
luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.
he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.
[satoru]: haha jk
[satoru]: unless…?
huffing, you quickly type back a response.
[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.
[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)
“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”
“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”
yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!
megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.
sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.
thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.
he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.
your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.
[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?
[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…
[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you
oh, that’s actually kind of—
[satoru]: nude, preferably
maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.
[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.
there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.
[satoru]: shit
[satoru]: is this a scene?
you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.
[you]: i hate you
he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.
you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.
once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—
you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.
he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.
you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.
“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”
“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”
“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.
you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”
“a nap does sound kind of nice…”
he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.
“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”
it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.
so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.
because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.
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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)
Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.
៸៸៸ minors do not interact!
៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader
៸៸៸WC: 9.3k
៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed
៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)
smut tags under cut::
SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?
In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.
You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.
Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?
Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.
23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.
Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.
At least that she’s aware of.
She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.
For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.
What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.
A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.
Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.
“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”
You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.
“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.
“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.
The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.
“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”
“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”
You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.
“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”
Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.
“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”
“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”
You shrug.
“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”
“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”
“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.
Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.
“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”
You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.
“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”
In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.
“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.
Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.
“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.
“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.
Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.
Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.
“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.
“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.
He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.
“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”
Ah. He’s one of those guys.
“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.
“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”
“God, you are such a bore.”
Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.
“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.
“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”
Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”
“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”
He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.
“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”
He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.
It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.
“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”
“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.
“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.
“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”
Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.
“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”
You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.
“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.
“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”
Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.
“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.
It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.
“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”
He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”
“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”
Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”
“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”
Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”
“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”
His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”
“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”
Offense taken.
And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.
“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”
“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”
He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.
When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.
You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.
“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.
“Very monotonous, very you.”
Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.
“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”
You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.
“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”
He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.
“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”
Oh, okay.
“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”
Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.
“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”
You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.
“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.
“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”
You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.
“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.
“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”
You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.
He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.
It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.
“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”
You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.
“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.
“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.
Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.
“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.
You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.
“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”
You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.
Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.
“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.
“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.
You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.
“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.
Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.
When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.
“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.
You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.
Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.
Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.
“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”
You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.
So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.
He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.
Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.
“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”
The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.
He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.
He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.
Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.
“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”
That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?
Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.
You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.
This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.
“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.
You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.
Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.
“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.
You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.
“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.
“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”
He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”
You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.
“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”
He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.
His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.
“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”
You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.
Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.
You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.
This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.
God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.
And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.
You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.
When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.
“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”
You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.
“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”
Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.
“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”
He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.
“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.
He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–
You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.
“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”
You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.
Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.
“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.
You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.
“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”
Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.
Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.
“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”
This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.
“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.
He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.
“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”
“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.
Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.
He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.
“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”
You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.
Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.
And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.
He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.
“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”
You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.
He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.
God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.
“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.
“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.
He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.
You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.
His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.
You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.
You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.
He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.
“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.
You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.
Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.
The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.
Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.
“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.
You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.
Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.
You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.
“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”
She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.
“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”
His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.
“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”
Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.
“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.
“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.
“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.
“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”
Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.
“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”
She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.
It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.
“I wouldn’t be against it.”
“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.
“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”
You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.
“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”
Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.
“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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bit on the side?
bit on the side?
crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.
side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.
crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.
because she’s talking about aziraphale.
aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.
and crowley is a demon.
he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.
other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.
he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.
he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.
what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?
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false prophet
closeup and wolfwood Thoughts™ under the cut
i have many thoughts on wolfwood and duality.. the caption was inspired by the bible verse that originated the idea of "wolf in sheep's clothing", and this is one side to him- the judas character. but when he joins vash's side he becomes a different kind of false prophet by betraying the eye of michael
as for the wolf/sheep part, i think the idea of ww as a wolf is a valid one in Some ways, but mostly in that i think its how he sees himself/how he thinks he should be- the hunter, the lone wolf- with the irony ofc being that wolves are pack animals. and so are sheep! the lamb as innocence, the lost lamb, the lamb brought back by the shepherd, the lamb led to slaughter- all his life, he is the lamb. all this to say i feel like wolfwood is the complete opposite of the verse, which is what inspired this drawing- sheep in wolf's clothing
#trigun#trigun stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#tsunosagun art#i have no idea if this is coherent lol but yea.. wolfwood..... AUGH..
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AT FIRST SIGHT
PAIRINGS: Dark!Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: Never in his life would Buck have ever thought that he’d end up with the girl of his dreams. How she ended up with him doesn’t matter, right?
WARNINGS: Lovesick Buck, obsession, memory loss, kind of Stockholm syndrome, lying, gaslighting, fluff, kisses
a/n: this literally popped into my head after reading @mrsdarkandyandere7 fic on their firefighter so this is definitely inspired by it, go check it out! i know evan’s character isn’t like this but i just thought it’d be cool to explore maybe what could’ve happened if buck’s breakups and general trauma had taken a toll on him 👀
WORDCOUNT: 3.8K Words
Gif not mine, credits to the owner!
Buck was enjoying his day off when he first saw you, waving his way. He turned his head, expecting a friend of yours to be behind him but was thoroughly surprised when you approached him. “You’re a firefighter aren’t you? I saw you on the news.”
Buck smiled at the recognition and nodded along, “Yeah I am, how’d you know?” You laughed at his joke before smiling, “You did an amazing job there, just wanted to let you know. I know sometimes you don’t get the props you deserve so… just wanted to come over.” You looked gorgeous, and your smile was infectious. Buck had been lonely lately, feeling as if he’s behind everyone else.
Always wondering what would’ve happened if he never changed, at least he’d have girls around, right?
But then, he met you. And all of a sudden, he was glad he wasn’t the original Buck. The Buck who felt the incessant need to get into bed with almost every girl he wants. “I sadly have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.” Enraptured with your smile, he watched you walk away. As he smiled to himself he realised, “Wait! I didn’t—,” You’d entered your apartment already, and he didn’t know your name. But you had left your purse on accident.
He sighed deeply, settling back into the bench he was sat on as his hand tightened around his coffee cup. “Stupid Buck, should’ve asked her name straight away.” Whilst plotting about how he could find out your name, the smell of smoke invaded his senses.
Your building was on fire.
He sprung up straight away, his hands sliding all over his phone whilst calling 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“23 Rayweo Drive, there’s a fire!”
“There’s already been multiple calls sir, units are on their way. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Uhh, Evan Buckley. I’m a firefighter!”
“Okay Evan, can you please—,”
All composure faded away the second he saw you at your window, arms waving frantically. “Help! The doors blocked!” The muffled voice coming through his phone was discarded as he made his way up the fire escape. The conjoining apartment had a balcony only about three to four metres from yours, Buck jumped across before grabbing the metal table on yours.
Your apartments glass door shattered as Buck made his way inside, the sirens were getting closer. “Hello? Where are you?” Buck held his arm infront of his face, searching the place for you. “In here!” Your apartment wasn’t fully engulfed yet, the kitchen and entrance were inescapable. But the rest only had small fires, yet to grow. Your bedroom door was untouched but had ceiling debris blocking you from leaving.
Buck went right into action, carelessly throwing the debris to the side before bracing himself, “Move away from the door!” You stood in the corner of the room as Buck pummelled through, ending up on the floor. You rushed over, “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His coughs were rapid, “I’m— i’m okay, let’s get you out of here…” A soft smile came across your lips, “Y/n.” He smiled back, “Buck.” The two of you slowly made your way out, but you stopped and stared.
A painting of yourself and your best friends, hung on the wall. The frame was gold, and melting. Your first ever apartment, up in flames with some of the most precious memories and moments of your life. “Hey, I know it’s a bit of a shock but we need to go.” Buck turned around to look at you, and at the right moment since the ceiling caved in on you. “Wait!”
Your hand waved around trying to grasp something as you held your breath. Were you going to die? All you could feel was a throbbing pain in your head, you’d fallen head first. And as your eyes closed you felt two hand grasp your arm, attempting to pull you out. “Stay with me!” Buck pleaded.
You woke up as you were being lifted onto the stretcher, eyes adjusting to the brightness. “Where— what’s happening?” The paramedic to your right smiled, “Welcome back, can you tell me your name?”
“Y/n/n!” Buck rushed to your side as you smiled, “Buck.” His hands brushed away the hair from your face, “Yeah, I’m here. Right here baby.” You smiled as they lifted you into the ambulance. Buck looked up, “I’m riding with you guys Hen.” The girl, who you assumed to be Hen nodded. You held onto Bucks hand the entire ride, earning some stares from Hen and Chimney.
When they thought you were out, they started questioning him. “You know her don’t you?” He nodded, “I do.” You opened your eyes, as everyone’s attention fell back on you, “Hey there, how ya feeling?” Chimney asked as you smiled, “Good, heads hurting a lot though.” Hen nodded, “You did take a bit of a fall, it’s a given. Your vitals look normal, seems like it’s just a concussion and some smoke inhalation. A few nicks and bruises, you’ll be out in no time sweetheart.”
“She’s right, you’re gonna be okay. Is there anyone you’d like us to call?”
“My mom. Her number is…” Your eyebrows furrowed at your lapse of memory. “Her number is…” You tried again to no avail, “Oh my god, I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?” Hens face drained, “Uhm, you may have hit your head harder than we thought. Is your phone on you?” You shook your head, “It broke when I fell.”
The ceiling was all of a sudden the most interesting thing in that ambulance. How the hell did you forget your own mother’s number? You tried your hardest to recall but it was hopeless. You tried your fathers, and nothing.
“Maybe a sibling? A boyfriend?”
“I don’t have siblings. No I do, a sister maybe? Or is it a brother? My boyfriend… I—,” Buck watched as you tried your hardest to remember things, and he hated it. He felt horrible, watching you struggle. He just wanted to shout at you that he was here, you didn’t need anybody else. He muttered under his breath, “I could be your boyfriend.” You turned your head, “You’re my boyfriend?” Hen and Chimney looked up at him, “You’re the man? Why haven’t you said anything?”
He was going to disagree, he really was. But with you looking up at him so hopefully he couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t want to confuse her, especially if she didn’t remember. That’s not wrong.. is it?”
You shook your head. “No, no it’s not. I’m just glad you’re here.”
The last few days had been a blur, sitting around or laying down. Nurses fluttering in and out with a million questions of ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Do you need anything else?’
Yes, to go home. You wish you could yell at them, but then again, you didn’t have a home. But through it all, you had your boyfriend. Who was nothing short of a gentleman. Always with a smile on his face, always asking how you were. And with him you just wanted to answer his questions.
“Discharge papers are all signed, you’re free to go sweetie.” The nurse beamed as you sighed, “Thank you so much. Have a nice day.” As she left you squealed before hugging Buck, “Whoa there, slow down sweetheart.” You rushed back, “I’m sorry, I’m just so ready to leave this place, and eat real food.”
Buck laughed at your growling stomach, “I promise to cook for you every night.” He pledged with a hand to his heart, “Oh shut up! Quick question, does this mean I’ll be staying with you? Until I find a new place and talk to my insurance company?” Buck frowned at the idea of you leaving him, “I know this might seem a bit quick but, what’s the point in you moving out? When you could just move in with me? I mean… you’d never have to worry about a fire with me.”
You grinned at him whilst picking up your purse and slinging it over your shoulder. “I already look like you since I’m wearing your clothes. You sure you want me 24/7?” He’d want you glued to him if he could. “Of course, I could never get sick of someone so pretty.” Buck flirted as your cheeks heated up, his hand traced your back sending tingles up your spine. He cupped your face and brought you closer.
Your lips were soft and sweet, the lip-balm you used was flavourful and he couldn’t get enough. His hand traced down your back, pulling you closer into him as you smiled into him, “Buck.” Your voice was muffled as he continued on, you put your hands on his chest and pushed back, “Stop, we’re in public.” You giggled as he threw his head back, “If anyone looks at you I’ll just punch em’.” You gasped, “Buck!”
He raised his arms, “What?” The two of you finished packing up before saying your goodbyes to the nurses that had taken care of you. “You never told me you had a jeep.” Buck laughed, “I was kind of hoping you’d remember, you love her.” You nodded at his words, “I can definitely see why I did, or do.” When you arrived at his place you were irrevocably in love.
“I love the exposed brick!” Buck set your purse down on the counter as you ran your hands along the walls before making your way to the couch. “And the couch is tucked away, it’s like a bit of privacy yknow?” Buck leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, “Well duh, you’re the one that helped me pick it.” He knew you hadn’t of course, but it was somehow easy for him to block her out and replace her with you.
“I did?” You looked his way as he walked over before standing in between your legs, “You loved this place a lot. So I got it as a surprise.” You smiled at him before pulling him down on top of you, “Why don’t we spend the rest of the day at home, and you tell me all about you and me?” He smiled at the sound of ‘home’, your home.
And that’s exactly what happened, the rest of the day he spent making up an ideal version of the two of you. Of how you met, how the two of you were yet to tell anyone since you really loved keeping it to the two of yourselves. And how he was always a ‘in the moment’ type person, explaining the lack of photos together. You then went out to buy yourself a new phone, and trade over the SIM card.
“Hey babe?” You called out to him as he cooked in the kitchen, “Yeah what’s up?” He glanced over his shoulder to you, “I can’t find you in my phone.” Buck breathed in, he forgot about that. “We… had a bit of a fight the day before. Pretty sure you blocked me or something, and since I’m petty, I did the same thing.” You stared at your phone in confusion, “I’ve never blocked someone, especially over something as simple as an argument.”
“Well, you have. Your brains a bit fuzzy babe, it’ll come back to you soon enough.” You glanced up at him, suspicion filling through you. “Alright, can I grab your phone and put my number in?” He nodded before pointing to the bed upstairs. You jogged upstairs before unplugging his phone. “My birthday.” You quickly filled in the password and were met with a million messages and calls.
Hen: Buckkkk, reply to us. Are you okay?
Cap 🔥: Buck, you need to call in if you’re not coming.
Maddie ❤️: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?
Eddie: There’s no way you have a girlfriend and just forgot to tell me.
Eddie: I’m coming over.
These guys must be his friends and coworkers. But you couldn’t help but wonder, had he seriously not told any of them that he has a girlfriend? Not even a hint? The last text from Eddie was only half an hour ago, which meant—
RING!
The doorbell rung out as you made your way downstairs, “Hey, no I’ll grab the— door.” Buck was late to it, as you swiftly opened the door to reveal, “Eddie!” He smiled, “Hey Buck, and you must be?” You grinned, “Y/n, but you can just call me Y/n/n. Please, come in!” You opened the door wider to reveal a kid, “And who’s this?” Eddie had his hand on the kids back, “Y/n, meet my son Christopher.” You kneeled infront of him before stretching out your hand, “Well hello there Chris, I’m Y/n and it is very nice to meet you.”
“Hello Y/n. Buck never told us he had a girlfriend.” You laughed at the comment as the two shuffled in before settling on the couch, “Well, if it’s any consolation, we hadn’t really told anyone yet. So technically you’re the first to officially meet me. None of my friends or family know about Buck yet.” Chris smiled, “What do you mean officially?”
“Well technically, everyone’s kind of met me already but I was rescued from a fire.” Eddies face dropped, “Oh my god, I completely forgot to ask, are you doing okay? It must’ve have been hard to recover.” You appreciated his empathy, “Yeah, it was a bit difficult at first but I was in the hospital. I mean, it was my first apartment and it went up in flames, it’s pretty hard to just get over it. But Buck has been an absolute angel, I’m really lucky to have him with me. I’ve been having memory issues, to the point where I wake up and forget where I am,”
“Oh god, have you been put on any medication?” You nodded, “I have, and it’s been helping. I think with the days my memory will come back. I mean I didn’t even remember Buck and I were together in the ambulance.” You laughed as you looked over at Buck, he chuckled at the joke whilst Eddies eyes flicked between the two of you before laughing dryly.
“Dinners ready!” Buck shouted out, the conversation was getting a bit too much for his liking. The four of you stuck to light topics at the dinner table on account of Christopher as well as you. And it was super enjoyable for you, Eddie is an amazing father and you could see how close Buck was with him and Chris.
“Well I think it’s time for this one to go to bed.” Eddie rose up before collecting the plates, “Hey no, you’re a guest, you don’t have to clean up.” You spoke as you grabbed the plates from him, “No no, you should be resting Y/n/n.” You both made your way around, “Okay we can both do them. You wash, I dry.” Buck sat on the couch with Chris playing video games, whilst simultaneously trying to eavesdrop.
“It’s way too late for the two of you to be driving home no? I’m sure you could stay. Me and Chris upstairs and the men on the floor seems just right,” Eddie threw his head back laughing, “Ohh, I see how it is!” You bumped his side and he bumped right back.
If all of Bucks friends were this great, he would’ve had to be one of the luckiest people around.
Chris and Eddie did end up staying the night, but the two men couldn’t sleep. So Eddie and Buck ended up having a few late night drinks, “So, Y/n. She’s absolutely incredible. So I have zero clue how you ended up with her.” Buck shoved his arm, “Hey I am a catch.”
“That I’d throw right back out.” Eddie joked as Buck rolled his eyes, “But you never told us anything about her, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit disappointed. We usually talk about everything Buck. And I know you well enough to know when you’re talking to someone.” Buck sighed, “It’s… complicated.”
And the weight of his secret was bound to come crashing down at some point, right?
Eddie stood with his head in his hands trying to understand everything his best friend had tried to tell him. “So you kidnapped her?” Buck immediately turned to him, “What? No! We were in the ambulance and she assumed I was her boyfriend, and god if you’d seen the look on her face you’d understand why I said yes. She was all alone, her apartment was burned down and her phone was broken. Maybe if it was some random person I wouldn’t have said yes, but I’d talked to her before. I knew she didn’t deserve anything that was happening to her. And she wouldn’t have a place to go if she couldn’t even remember her friends or a phone number.”
“So you took her in, to be a nice person? Were you going to kick her out when she remembered? What if she calls the cops?” Eddies head had about a million scenarios rushing through right now, “Eddie, please. You know me, I’m not a bad guy. If she starts to remember then I’ll tell her. But, we’ve gotten along so well these past few days, like you said she’s incredible.”
“Oh god, don’t tell me you fell in love with her.”
“Well…” Buck scratched the back of his neck as Eddie groaned, “Buck are you serious?” Eddie screeched, “Shh! Do you want to wake her up? Look, if she realises then I’ll explain everything I promise. But it’s not like I’m holding her hostage. I’m just trying to give her a place to call home before she gets back out there.”
“Buck, she calls you ‘babe’, and you do too. You have a million nicknames for her. Every time you get the opportunity you kiss her. It’s wrong, she has no clue what’s happening here.” Eddie tried to rationalise with him but it was no use. Buck sighed, “I know, it’s just— I know her. I met her before the fire and she was so nice, I was going to ask her out but then this all happened. And it’s not like she doesn’t like me either, is it really so wrong?”
“I guess not, but you need to tell her. If she really likes you, then I guess she’ll give you another chance to actually take her out.” Buck rushed forwards and hugged him, “You think she’ll give me another chance? Thank you Eddie!” Eddie scoffed, “You really like her huh?” Buck couldn’t help but look back up at you, “I do.”
Your eyes were wide open, adjusted to the dark. Eddie and Bucks conversation was playing over and over in your head, he lied to you. But again he wanted to keep you safe, would you be homeless right now if it weren’t for him? Or would you have found a friend?
The good and bad parts of the situation were equal in your eyes. He’d been lying to you, kissing you and treating you as if you were his girlfriend. Taking advantage of your state of mind, but you’d met before, and he was going to ask you out. And if he had, you knew what your answer would have been.
Yes.
And it wasn’t as if he was dangerous, or at least you hoped not. Tiredness came over you, the last thing you remember hearing being the sound of Bucks voice wishing you sweet dreams.
By the time you woke up Eddie and Chris were long gone, Buck was busy cooking up breakfast. “There you are sleepyhead.” His smile was always bright when directed at you, and with the morning glow you could only see the good. “Buck, we need to talk.”
Who knew five words could strike such fear?
And you sat infront of him, “I know. I know about the fire, and the fact that you aren’t my boyfriend. And hey—,” Buck didn’t waste a second apologising, “I’m so so sorry I knew I should’ve told you straight away. But when you said I was I went along with it and that was stupid. But I didn’t want you to be alone and if you want to go I will—,” Your laugh stopped him in his tracks, “It’s okay Buck. I’m not mad, well I am a little since you’ve been kissing up on me every chance you get but… you’re just a bit dumb in how you went about it.”
Buck smiled as he set out breakfast for the both of you, “Now how about this. We finish up breakfast and then you take me out on a proper date where we get to make all of our firsts for real. I really do like you Buck, your heart was in the right place, execution? Not so much.”
And the rest of the morning you spent laughing at Buck and his love sickness. “You know you’re kind of obsessed with me, it’s a bit creepy.” Bucks face immediately drained, he stared at your back as you washed the dishes. “But my heart was in the right place right?” He sounded desperate with the sentence, “Sure.”
You liked Buck, there was no denying it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of weirdness.
As the two of you continued getting to know eachother Bucks happiness sky rocketed. And everyone could tell, “If you smile any longer we’ll need to tattoo it onto your face Buck.” Bobby joked as everyone teased Buck, “I am in a happy, loving relationship. Be proud of me.” Eddie couldn’t help himself, “Does she know that?”
The whole table burst out laughing as Buck groaned, “She has her memory back can we please not joke about it.” Hen pointed at him with her fork, “Trust me, we’re not laughing at her, we’re laughing at you Lover Boy!” The footsteps coming up the stairs were drowned out by the sea of laughter, “If Shakespeare was alive you’d for sure be an inspiration Buck.” Chimney spoke from the kitchen.
“Wonder what he’d name it.” Your voice caused the five of them to turn your way, “Y/n!” Eddie shouted as you engulfed him in a tight hug. “If I squeeze too hard you’ll forget my name,” He joked as you punched his abdomen, “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“There’s the famous Mrs Buckley.” Bobby smiled as you made your way over to him, “Cap!” He opened his arms up to you as Buck grinned, his team finally meeting you made him feel happy. “Great to finally meet you, but I feel like we already know you.” He spoke as he pulled out a chair for you. “He’s right, Lover Boy never shuts about you.” Chimney teased as you kissed Bucks cheek.
“Well aren’t you sweet? We all know how lovesick he is I presume?” The team laughed as Buck rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah let’s get the jokes out the way.” You smiled before holding onto his hand.
Buck downplayed just how much he loved his team, they were like a family, and now you were apart of it too. Buck was grateful to be in it, especially with you being the new addition. But every once in a while he couldn’t help but remember how he got you.
Love At First Sight.
#911 x reader#911 fanfic#911 imagine#evan buckley x fem!reader#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley#evan buckley x you#dark!evan buckley x reader#yandere 911#yandere 911 x reader
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night walks (original)
2k | pothead neighbor!Joel x f!reader
joel miller masterlist | night walks masterlist
He shrugs and leans in. You don't lean away. He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs before you can tell your body no. He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath.
Summary: Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but has other intentions.
content warnings: I8+ nsfw, drugs, dubcon, unsafe PIV sex, dirty talk, light imprisonment, creepy pothead joel, age gap (unspecified), possible dosing, no outbreak, Joel is untrustworthy.
(a/n): felt like writing some sex and taking a new Joel for a spin.
You're living in your Aunt's basement in a conservative suburban neighborhood while you work a dead-end job. You keep to yourself and don't know anyone in the neighborhood. You take a walk late at night. Not uncommon for you. Normally, no one is out, so you light up a joint as you round the corner into a dark cul-de-sac.
"That smells good," a gruff, disembodied voice says.
You startle and look around. "It's cool, I'm cool " he says, and your eyes land on him in the shadows. It's Joel Miller sitting out on the porch in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. "Sorry I scared you. I'm no snitch," he adds. "Have a good night."
He comes out almost every night from then on and starts to make small talk. One night he comes down from the porch in PJ pants and a tight t-shirt, stretched by his biceps, and asks if he can walk a lap with you. You're like, whatever. This is when you start to notice how hot he is, having barely seen him in the shadows. The PJ pants are a little too flattering on his ass and you can also see the ample size of his package. His beard glistens with bits of gray and silver.
In the darkest corner of the neighborhood one night, he says "hey" and his hand brushes the back of your hip. You turn and look into his eyes and his face darkens. He wets his lips and your heart races. He asks, "Mind if I hit that?"
You pass it to him and there's a spark when your fingers touch. The intimacy of his mouth on your joint makes you blush. His brow furrows as he takes a drag and maintains eye contact. Something in his gaze gives you butterflies between the legs.
He shares bits and pieces about himself. Sounds like he's having some kind of a midlife crisis. His wife cheated. He's moved into the basement and made a man cave. He starts crossing your mind during the day. What's his deal, why is he talking to you? Are you friends now? You're not sure if he's lonely or a creep.
One night, he sheepishly approaches you about buying some weed. He wants you to bring it to his man cave so you can show him the stuff and remind him how to roll a joint and all.
-
He lets you in the side door. When he holds the door open, you get a whiff of his sweat. He's listening to Pink Floyd. His tight shirt is blotched in perspiration and his muscles are pumped up.
He asks, "Mind if I finish this set?"
"Sure."
It's burning up inside and you're in joggers and a hoodie. You sit down on the couch and try not to watch. You look around the room at his TV, the bar. Your eyes drift to the bench where he's on his back, his shirt riding up exposing his happy trail, his package pressing up into his joggers.
"Don't be shy. You can watch," he says without looking over.
He's definitely a creep. He counts down from 5 then racks the bar and sits up. He looks you up and down. You put your thin metal case on a tray that's sitting on the ottoman in front of you.
He goes and locks the door where you came in - the bolt and the slider.
"Drink?" He asks, and walks behind the bar. "Gotta tell me what you want or you get an IPA."
"I'm good."
He brings you an IPA.
He uses his shirt to wipe his brow. He sits down right next to you, with plenty of other space on the couch, and stretches his arm out behind you. He catches you glancing toward the locked door.
"Too late now, pumpkin." He adjusts himself. "Come on, loosen up." He hands you the beer and you take a sip.
"Good girl." He looks you up and down again.
-
You put the beer down on the tray and lean forward, elbows on your knees. "Alright, so. . ."
His massive hand rubs your back slowly and it feels a little too good for comfort. You try to ignore it.
You open the weed case and get out the baggie and rolling papers. "You're gonna take-"
"Yeah, I know how to do it,” he smirks. He tucks some cash in your case – a little too much – and closes it.
Then he pulls out his own case from under the couch. He puts the weed you gave him in there and pulls out his own stash. You open your mouth but aren't sure what to say.
"You gotta hit this. Really, try it," he says.
You watch him roll the most perfect joint in the world.
You call him out. "Why'd you act like such a noob?"
"How else was I gonna get you in here, hm?”
Your cheeks burn.
“Now we're all set to do what we want." A self-satisfied smile creeps across his face. "I won't tell, you won't tell. . . " He winks at you and his eyes sparkle.
You tense. "I won't tell what?"
He brazenly eye-fucks you. "What are you gonna say, you came over to sell me weed? C’mon.”
He strokes your hair. You're a little sick to your stomach. You get another whiff of his sweat and curse your body for responding favorably.
"Where's your wife?"
"Hell if I know," he shrugs. His hungry eyes don't leave you alone.
"Damn, you're hot," he blurts out. It's exactly what you were trying not to think about him, but shit, he is.
-
He puts the joint in his mouth and lights up, then his arm returns behind you. His thumb strokes the nape of your neck and you don't move away. Not to be intimidated, you turn slightly toward him. He inhales, holds in the breath, then offers you the joint.
You hold up your hand and refuse the joint.
He shrugs and leans in. You don't lean away. He takes your chin in his hand and your mouth opens for him, emptying your lungs, before you can tell your body no. He gets less than an inch from your lips and exhales into your mouth as you inhale deeply, accepting his breath.
"Atta girl," he says, followed by a small cough into his fist.
You exhale the smoke slowly, then take a deep breath of clean air and exhale again.
His large, veiny hand rubs your thigh and you sit in silence for a moment.
He says, "Good shit, right?"
It's amazing. "Did you just dose me?"
He laughs. "Shotgunnin's a hell of a way to dose someone. Nah it's just about findin' the right strain, pumpkin"
Whatever it is - the weed, the beer, his sweat, his body, the glimmer in his eyes. . . Whatever it is has you hot all over and tingling between the legs. You fidget with the zipper of your hoodie.
He puts his hand over yours and tugs the zipper, his hand dangerously close to your tits. "Let's take that off," he says. You take it off, leaving a tank top and no bra, and fold it up at the arm of the couch. Part of you is unsure why you're settling in. The lower part of you knows exactly why.
His thick knuckles stroke the tattoo on your shoulder
His voice is a low rumble, through nearly-gritted teeth when he says, "found myself a bad girl."
He takes another puff, then sets the joint on an ashtray. He holds in the breath, takes your cheeks in his hands, his sad eyes searching your face hornily. You empty your lungs again. He seals his mouth with yours, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You accept the breath, sucking it out of his mouth, then close your mouth and turn away to exhale as your nipples harden. His face stays and hovers close to yours.
-
When you finish exhaling, you turn back and meet his gaze. His eyelids are heavy with lust. He looks at your lips, cradles the back of your head, and smashes his mouth into yours. His mustache tickles. His tongue invades your mouth and makes you throb. You back up a little and his body pushes yours down on your back, your head landing softly on your hoodie. His legs wedge between yours.
His clothed arousal presses right between your legs and his large hand maps your body as he buries his face in your neck. "Lets see how bad you can be," he growls into your ear before taking a gentle bite of your neck, then sucking hard. His hard-on swells even larger and harder against you and your hips automatically roll into him. Your legs wrap loosely around him all on their own. God, he's big.
You don’t know what’s come over you, but you’re dripping wet. It’s like a magnetic, masculine energy is radiating out of his pores, penetrating you. Locked in a basement with this total creep and you’re dizzy with desire.
He slides his arm under your neck and kisses you forcefully as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. Then he shoves his hand down into your pants where you aren't wearing underwear. His thick fingers part your folds and glide against your slick. You hate yourself for it, but you've never been more turned on, and it shows.
When he feels how wet you are, he says “I’ll be damned. You want it that bad.”
He tugs down your joggers urgently, backing up on his knees to pull them and your shoes all the way off. Then he frees his cock and strokes himself, wetting his lips. Chest rising and falling as he eyes your naked cunt. Fuck, he has a nice cock.
He hovers over you again and one of your legs wraps loosely around him. Your back arches in anticipation. Your clit throbs. He breathes heavily and his cock prods your entrance. You moan softly. He teases you with the tip. Your body aches to be filled.
“All yours, baby, every inch.” His low voice obliterates anything that was left of your will to resist.
He pushes his swollen tip inside, and the stretch pushes a moan out of you.
“Yeah, go on. Take this cock.” He pushes further.
He grunts, "God, you're tight. C'mon now, you can do it.” Your hips tilt to receive more of him and he plunges the rest of his length into you with a loud grunt and shudder. His neck vein bulges and his eyes close. You gasp as he fills you up and you twitch around him.
“Yeah,” he pants, rocking into your clit while he's all the way inside. “Attagirl.” You already feel something building deep within you.
He retreats then plunges into you again with a grunt. The vein on his neck bulges more and his biceps flex as he hovers over you, fucking you slowly, then faster. “Yeah, that’s my bad girl.” Fuck, he feels good. Tension coils rapidly in your core.
He wraps a strong arm around you, lifts you up against him, and his cock stays inside you as he sits back on the couch so you’re in his lap straddling him. He expertly works your clit and his massive hands on your asscheeks move you on his cock as his hips move under you.
“God damn, you’re hot,” he says again as you roll your hips into him. “Yeah, ride this cock,” he says, thrusting up into you as his massive hands rove your body. He forcefully pulls down your tank top and sucks your tit, moaning into it. Your thighs tremble.
“Yeah, c’mon,” he says. “Come on this cock.”
The next time he bottoms out, your clit grinding into his pubic bone, softened by his hair — you do. Pleasure blooms from your clit, pulsing, washing over you, and your walls clench around him, wringing a guttural groan from his lungs.
His cock pulses enormously and your whole body jerks into him as your climax continues. He thrusts a few more times. Slow but emphatic, pulling you down on his cock as his balls empty inside you. You stay on top of him as your climax wanes.
-
Shit, that was dumb, you realize. But it felt really fucking good.
“Reckon I won’t need to lock ya in next time, huh?” he asks, stroking your hair. You swerve his hand, get dressed, and leave.
But the next night, you still find yourself walking by his house.
“Any time you wanna come,” he says. “You’re welcome."
Short Deleted Scene
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Thank you for reading!!! your interaction is always appreciated too! 💐 this is a one shot but I'm having thots so you never know, LMK if you like him. I can kinda see him as a breeder, maybe.
Continuation by popular demand: night walks 2
#joel miller x reader#dark!joel miller#dark!joel#joel miller smut#joel miller#toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#toxicnightwalks#night walks!joel#pervy!joel miller#pervy!joel#perv!joel miller#perv!joel#nightwalks☠️
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Harassed {Jack the Ripper/Poseidon}
Repost
I'm sorry that I wrote this
Warning: mentions of murder and harassment. Don't do any of these things
__________
Jack the Ripper🔪-
One of your friends had dragged you to a bar one night, insisting you needed to get out more. You didn't have any plans that night but you still refused. After some convincing, you agreed to go.
A few minutes in and your friend is already gone, leaving you by yourself at the main counter. You only took a few shots, but stopped yourself after the 4th shot.
Suddenly, some drunk guy sat next to you, resting his rough hand on your shoulder. He tried so many times to get you to talk, but you just ignored him and walked out the bar. You began your lone walk to your home.
Just when you turned a corner, hands began to caress your sides. You thrash in the guy's grip but he just held you tighter. You took out a small pocket knife and stabbed his leg. You took off the moment he let you go, running inside your house and locked it.
You had a hard time sleeping after that.
The next day, you refused to get of bed, let alone the house. This worried some of your friends and tried to ask you why, but you kept quiet, which led them to ask the friend who took you.
"I do not know. They just left without even saying anything."
That was all they said. They decided to drop it once they realised their question won't be answered.
The next night, while it was dark, you heard a knock on your bedroom window. To your surprise, it was someone who you grew close to, Jack the Ripper. Your first encounter was when he was injured and you, a kind hearted soul, took him in, unaware of who he was. He originally wanted to kill you but seeing how kind you were, the thought of killing you soon went away.
"Milady, what seems to be troubling you?" He asked, his mixed eyes staring into your soul. Your dropped your head down low, refusing to let him see your tears. You wanted to lie your way out, but Jack would be aware of it.
"I-I was forced to go to a bar and this disgusting man touched me and tried to-"
"What did he look like?" You looked up, seeing the man's face turn to his usual murderous expression, but it seemed more dark.
"W-well, he had black hair and blue eyes and looks a little bigger than you. He also had some facial hair on his jaw." You described the man the best you could. Jack didn't say anything and disappeared into the night.
2 nights later~
Sweeping the floors of your house with a headache wasn't the best idea. After finishing off, you rested yourself on one of your chairs. You felt a piece of paper under your hand and picked it up. It was folded neatly and had beautiful handwriting. You opened it up and read the short letter.
I apologise for leaving you in your time of need, but I had to get rid of the beast who tried to corrupt you.
You felt a presence in your room and turned around, spotting Jack, twirling a knife in his hand. Without a second thought, you jumped up and hugged him. Jack held his arms away from you, not knowing what to do.
"You didn't need to kill him." Your voice muffled by his chest. Silence filled the room after you spoke.
"It was entirely necessary. I refuse to let them take your beautiful colours away."
Tears been to fall out, staining his shirt. Jack lowered his arms, slowly wrapping them around your waist.
He always thought he'd never meet a kind person, until life decided to let him meet you.
Poseidon🔱-
Being married to one of the most fearsome gods has its ups and downs.
One up is that you're the only one who can meet his gaze and live the next day.
One down is that he refuses to let you show affection in public to not ruin his public image in being perfect. (It does upset you, but you understand)
He sees you as his equal, so it isn't much of a surprise when another god stupid enough tries to have his way with you and he is informed.
This god won't leave you alone, even when you declined his invitation to accompany him.
"I told you many times! I do not wish to go with you!" You yelled at the persistent god following you.
It all started when he approached you and started a normal conversation. Then, he started getting a little too touchy with you, brushing his hand against your bare skin, his hands lingering on your shoulders and hovering over your chest for too long. That was enough for you to storm out and head back to your husband, the god you truly love.
"Come on, beautiful! I just want to know you better." The god exclaimed, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you closer to him, smirking victoriously when he saw your frightened face.
"I don't think she feels the same way." A familiar voice chimed in. The god froze in his spot, giving you the chance to wiggle out of his arms and step away from him. You felt relieved to see Heracles, his usual smile not present on his face and replaced with a menacing glare. The god trembled in his shoes and just took off to who knows, too afraid to even try to speak to the towering demigod.
"Fucking coward." You thought, watching the god disappear around a corner. You felt the demigod's hand on your shoulder.
"You should go back to Uncle. I bet he's missing you." Heracles' face changed to a more cheerful one, his smile exposing his pearly whites. You giggled at his sudden change and nodded.
"I should. Thank you for saving me!"
"No problem!"
With that, you took off to see your husband. Before entering, you took the time to stand up straight, take a deep breath and walked in. You faced your husband, slowly making your way to your throne next to his. Sea Blue eyes observed your form, noticing your slightly messy hair and increased speed of your breathing.
He knew these were your signs of discomfort.
"Who is responsible?" His chilling voice filled the silence. You felt exposed upon hearing his question and hesitated on answering. But you gave up.
"Just another god." You finally answered, your hands gripping the armrests nervously. You knew lying to your husband would be impossible.
"Come here." He demanded. You quickly complied, standing in front of him, unsure of his next demand.
"I said, come here." He demanded again, his eyes staring right in your own orbs. You swallow slowly, stepping closer to him. This was strange, he never demanded, let alone asked for anything like this. With hesitation, you wrapped your arms around Poseidon's waist. When he didn't push you away, you lowered yourself down to sit on his lap.
Crying was out of the question if it was for anything else, but after what happened, you couldn't help it.
Your quietly sobbed, tightening the hug. Surprisingly, Poseidon did nothing but sit there, listening to your sobs.
Poseidon will have to wait until he can deal with the living filth that decided to get his dirty hands on his wife...
#i feel bad that i wrote this#record of ragnarok#record of ragnarok x reader#jack the ripper x reader#poseidon x reader#ror jack the ripper#ror poseidon#ror jack the ripper x reader#ror poseidon x reader#ror x reader#snv x reader
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What is a general hc for yandere Soap?
Warnings: Yandere behavior, military + talks about trauma and PTSD, kidnapping, and dubcon (not in detail)
A/N: Sure!! Sorry this took extremely long. I've been struggling with my health. Hope this was okay <3.
Gif and icons are NOT mine; the gif belongs to @/bunnygifs. As for the icons, I'm not sure. If you do find the artist/or are the artist, please contact me so I can credit you!
Soap is a very complicated person. Underneath his nice Jester Act, he’s an extremely manipulative, obsessive, and possessive man in every aspect possible. He owns you; you own him, vice versa.
He’s two faced with you, only if you’re capable of staying one way. Much like Jekyll and Hyde.
Johnny wasn’t sure what was so addicting about you, but he knew you were the one for him. The very first time he saw you, he was immediately smitten and approaching you with a wide smile. Flirting and wooing his ways with you as his cheeks flushed with pink, legs like jello and hands sweating as his mind was overloaded with question after question. While Soap’s not easy to fall for someone, he couldn’t help but see that you were incredibly attractive; as well as interesting and a genuine person.
It definitely makes more sense if you were on the team. Price bringing you in as a new recruit; a needed medic or another soldier that finds him just as perky, or annoying.
Or, in any other story, you could be a civilian who he had met while living next door. The apartment complex getting lonely, and somehow, the cheeky bastard showed up with a welcoming smile and a few of his buddies helping him move in. Wouldn’t it be nice to know him, no?
Despite these two — Soap would quickly realize he needed you. The calls weren’t enough. The hourly talks weren’t enough. Nothing was never enough because you weren’t his. And you certainly made him lose his mind.
Either way, you’ve caught the eye of a man who’s incredibly hard to get rid of. His name speaks loudly in certain situations when he’s with you.
That being said, Johnny is always around you — in and out of the battlefield. He’s always trying to engage with whatever you’re doing.
Gonna head out and get a drink from a bar a couple of minutes down the road? Why not let him come along? Catch up on some things, plus the two of you could play truth-to-drink.
Need to go grocery shopping? Let him drive with you! He would feel safer going with you, plus, he needs to restock his fridge. Wherever you are, he’s there; even with and without your knowledge.
Soap is a huge softie with you. Even Ghost and Price see it. It’s clear that he likes you, which leaves him doing it the ‘original’ way. He will go all out and woo your heart; going as far as to buy your favorite flowers or go get that movie you haven’t seen in ages. He pays attention closely to the conversations you two have, so expect gifts to come.
This also means that he dislikes people around you, his blue eyes turning into daggered icicles that talk to you. And those who don’t get his signals, he gets aggressive, which isn’t a pretty sight.
He makes it clear that you’re off limits and stares at anyone who looks at you too long or simply the wrong way. While he acts incredibly sweet and kind in front of you, the minute you turn around, his smile is gone and staring into the person’s poor soul until they run away with their tail between their legs.
Johnny is the type to overcompensate things, which can be annoying. He’s overbearing — almost suffocating to the point you may or may not snap at him to knock it off or leave you alone. He will act like an overprotective boyfriend, even if the two of you are not dating.
Because of this, you’ll likely lose a bunch, if mostly of your friends or close family members. At the end of the day, he’s sitting right beside you as he comforts you from the losses. I mean, he’s better than them, right?
Soap is more on the jealous side. While he knows he’s attractive and strong - likely your type - he just can’t help but pop his knuckles in pure annoyance whenever he sees you talking to someone he feels is a threat. Soap will try his best to be always around you, keeping an arm or hand on you at all times, showing people he has an interest in you or that you’re dating.
And because of his severe jealousy, he’s a master at manipulation. He’s very persuasive with his words, especially with his sweet and dirty talk.
He’s always guiding, keeping you away from people he deems bad, and whenever you question it, Johnny always smiles before telling you not to worry about it. By the end of the day, you’re in his house with him locking the door.
With how insane he is, and just how devoted he’s with you, you’re gonna be kidnapped. Even if you’re already in love, he can not stand people talking or keeping you away from him. He wants you by himself.
Your safety is his top priority. The minute it’s threatened, even by a friend invading your space or seeing you uncomfortable in public, all his nice and flirtatious mask is thrown out the window and goes berserk. He’s not afraid to swing, kick, or even draw high amounts of blood if it means that you’re safe.
Now, the minute he can call you "his" is the second he really shows his colors; being a cheeky bastard and a manipulative prick. Of course, he’s a natural flirt and will tease or woo you every damn chance he gets.
Soap is very open with affection. In all types of shapes, but he mainly shows it through gifts and physical affection. He’ll randomly give you rocks with specific names and expects you to remember.
Or cuddling you closer to his body, hand instinctively curling around your hips and lips sucking in deep bruises. His favorite part with you is rolling in bed with you, tracing your body marks as he rubs his face into your belly.
Soap is incredibly clingy. It gets worse when he gets home after being out for a long time of not seeing you.
Once he’s home, whether that’s from a mission or simply spending the day shopping for necessary items, he will not leave you alone. His arms are always on you, grasping and pulling you in for cuddles and his Scottish slangs whispering in your tinted ears for more attention.
Punishments come in waves– and if you’ve broken them, even ignoring his final warnings with tsks, it isn’t pretty.
Usually, he figures a good fuck with sorta ye out, no? With the amount of orgasms and pretty begs you let out, he’s certain you won’t break them again, correct?
But, if that doesn’t work, he’ll put a chain around your ankle, keeping you in bed and treating you the same as if you didn’t do anything. Slowly but surely, driving you insane until you say sorry.
Soap is excellent at spying and has no shame if he’s caught, even by you. You won’t be allowed to shut any doors, even if you are using the bathroom or showering. But, you wouldn’t mind him coming in, would you?
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My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!
© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
#kokeshi!!#yandere soap#yandere cod#yandere call of duty#yandere mw2#yandere modern warfare#yandere x reader#yandere blog#yandere male#male yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere x gn reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x willing reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x gender neutral reader#soft yandere#yandere john MacTavish#soap mctavish x reader#yandere john x reader#yandere mw2 x reader#john mctavish#johnny mctavish#yandere headcannons#yandere#yandere games#the icons are not mine#they belong to their rightful owners#kitty-chan33
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"Maybe I Could Learn to Love You" - Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader
Grabbed the gif from sabrinaacarpenters
AN: To be real with y'all, We Become We from the Journey to Bethlehem soundtrack totally inspired this. I've not seen the movie but this song is blowing up on my tiktok.
Masterlist here!
Summary: Aemond could never choose to love another. Maybe you could learn to love him too.
CW: tooth rotting fluff, arranged marriage, I tried to be as neutral as possible for reader description, did use daughter 1 time and dear girl 1 time so presumably AFAB daughter, no other descriptors for reader, talks of wine
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
When you were ten, your father was named to King Viserys’ small council. As the younger brother of Lord Redwyne, nobody had anticipated the idea that he would have much more influence than a prominent land owner. So when King Viserys asked him to come to King’s Landing and serve in a new position dedicated to agriculture, he accepted immediately and brought you in hopes of securing your future.
That is how you met the young Prince Aemond. He was not much older than you, a year at most. At the time, he was still recovering from the Driftmark Incident as the servants in the castle called it. There had been no hope for saving his eye, and so he was relearning to do everything.
Aemond Targaryen was smitten with you from the beginning. His mother had originally had to argue with him to meet you, as he was the closest person in age to you and perhaps in you he would find a friend. He had never been too fond of people, losing his eye doing nothing to help that. Yet, he had never been more grateful for his mother’s insistence than when he saw you.
It was only you and your father, your mother having died a few years prior. And Aemond’s singular eye focused on you exiting the carriage, much too distracted by discussing a book with your father to notice the Royal Family had come to greet you. When you finally did, your eyes widened, stuttering and stammering apologies about your rudeness.
“Please never apologize for your passions,” he spoke quickly. A bit too quickly, perhaps, as he thought about how that may have been the place of his father or even his mother. But already you had enraptured him and he would not make any apologies for that.
In the days and months following, his mother had arranged with your father that you and Aemond become companions. Unbeknownst to you, a promise had been made. Your father allow her son to be by your side and you would marry a prince.
All you cared about was having a friend. You had expected King’s Landing to feel rather lonely. You left behind cousins and friends in The Arbor. And while knowing that the King and Queen had four children, you had been under the assumption you would be kept separate. So, when your lessons with the Septa were held with Aemond, you were equally surprised and grateful.
Over the years, Aemond’s affections for you only grew. He loved spending time with you, requiring his every waking moment be spent with you. As you grew older and the need for propriety became an issue, he was more than happy to have Ser Criston or even one of the Cargyll twins to accompany the two of you. It didn’t matter to him what you did or who was around. If he had you, he was happy.
You had been in King’s Landing for six years when you were formally betrothed to Aemond, to be married within a moon of your eighteenth birthday. It took you by complete surprise. It made sense, you supposed. If you looked back on the years, you could see how your friendship with Aemond was considered a courtship. He was ecstatic at the news, you were neutral.
It wasn’t a bad idea. Aemond seemed to truly care for you. You knew if your marriage had to be political, better it be to a man such as Aemond. He was good and kind to you, handsome if you were asked to give your opinion. You did not mind his scar or the eyepatch he wore.
Aemond was only slightly disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm at your impending marriage. He figured it was nerves. Coming from a noble house but not being the daughter of its Lord may have caused them when you were presented with such an advantageous marriage. Or perhaps you were so overcome with joy that you were merely struck speechless. He did not mind either way.
It was on your eighteenth birthday that he learned the love he bore you was one sided. He had overheard you speaking to his mother as she gave you a gift. It was a piece of jewelry her mother had once owned, given to you as a way to welcome you. You attempted to deny it. And at her insistence, you confessed why.
“Aemond will be a good husband, but I do not love him. It would feel wrong to accept such a beautiful heirloom as such,” you had explained shyly.
“Dear girl, you marriage may not be one of love, but you are still joining my family. And you are someone familiar with my home, the home my children may never get to see. Perhaps in this, you can feel connected to our home and teach your children of it,” she explained, placing the necklace around your neck.
Despite the ache in his chest that you did not feel for him what he felt for you, he was not any less determined. He loved you. That would not change.
The day before your wedding, he approached you. You had been so busy in the last week, making final preparations for the day. You were nervous now. It was obvious when he saw you. And despite the fact you did not love him, he knew you still considered him your friend.
“Come with me, my love,” he said softly to you, a book in hand.
Since your betrothal, little pet names are all he called you. You never minded. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. You enjoyed the knowledge that every member of court who thought Aemond was cold could see that he adored you. It may have been wrong, but you felt so powerful in knowing a man such as he could be weak only for you. Perhaps that was why you never made a fuss. You were lucky, luckier than most, in having your intended so dedicated and devoted to you.
“Where are we going?” you asked him as he began to lead you down the corridor.
He brought you to the weirwood tree. It was often a good place for the two of you to catch a moment of peace. A guardsman would stand at the entrance to the gardens and pay little mind to the small touches Aemond let linger over you. Here, you felt safe and connected to your roots. Here, you felt as though you and Aemond truly were friends.
He sat on the ground, offering you a hand for assistance for sitting gracefully. He knew you were not one of grace, but he thought it cute that you were as coordinated as a newborn lamb. And you were ever so grateful for that fact.
“Lay your head in my lap and I shall read to you,” he told you quietly.
You were relieved to have this small moment of reprieve from the stresses of planning an event as grand as this. You had been coordinating with your uncle for the wine for the wedding, with Lord Tyrell for extra grains so that you may have your sweets, with many bards throughout the kingdoms to find one to play their music. The Queen and your father took some of the organizing off your shoulders, of course, but you needed this to be perfect.
And so, you laid your head in his lap. He stroked your hair with one hand as he held the book with the other, his deep voice reading the words of a love story to you. You looked up at him. He was truly handsome. The angles of his jawline and his prominent nose made goose pimples rise across your skin. His lilac eye was focused on the page and not you, but it soothed you nonetheless. And his hair…you could not wait until you were married so as to be able to openly touch it.
“You are staring awfully hard, darling. Do I have something on my face?” he asked, his eye flickering from the page to you.
“Remove it,” you whispered.
“We have been over this,” he said quietly. This conversation was the only time he ever seemed cross with you. His jaw clenched every time.
“Yes, I am aware you stated not before we were wed. But it is tomorrow. And I wait to gaze upon the entirety of my husband before I am bound to him before the gods,” you told him, offering a coy smirk.
“If you wish to gaze upon the entirety of me, might I suggest we move to my chambers?” he asked with his own smirk.
You could not help but laugh. He felt comfortable enough with you to laugh, joke, and tease. You were grateful that you could grant him this existence.
“Please, Aemond. How can you expect me to marry you and partake in what is to come if you do not trust me enough to show me you?” you asked him quietly. He knew you spoke of the wedding ceremony that was to be held, and how you feared it, but you had assured him you would do it for him.
You could see how jaw clench again, his nostrils flaring slightly. You had always felt the liberty to argue against him. It was one of the things he loved about you, how you forgot what was expected of you to speak your mind.
But finally, his hand withdrew from your hair as he placed the book aside. Perhaps you had spoken too freely and finally he was getting angry with you. Instead, his hands reached behind his own head.
He had the strap unfastened yet did not remove it. He looked to you. A genuine fear could be seen on his face.
“And if you decide it is too disgusting to gaze upon? What shall I be expected to do then?” he asked you in a quiet voice.
“It would not dissuade me from marrying you,” she told him. It was true, in equal parts because you knew there was no chance of that changing now and the fact you knew you were lucky to be marrying a man such as this. “Though I suppose I would order a bag be kept over your head. Or perhaps only approach you in dark rooms.”
It was a tease, you both knew it. But he was still worried about how much truth hung in your words. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by him.
Seeing how uneasy Aemond still was, you reached up and placed your hand on his. “You love me?” you asked him quietly.
“I could never choose to love another,” Aemond said quickly to you, confirming to you what you already knew.
“Then have faith in me that I will not turn or cower. Have faith in me that I want this marriage, this life, with you,” you told him gently as you began to slowly pull your hand away, bringing his along.
He allowed his hands to be removed, holding the eyepatch in them. The piece of leather had made its indention in his skin from being fastened too tightly. Your eyes then focused on the dazzling blue sapphire that had been secured in the socket.
Aemond noticed how your gaze softened, your entire body going lax. He began to quickly attempt to hide himself, feeling flustered as his pale skin flooded red. A panic built up in him.
“No,” you whispered, taking hold of his hands again. “Please. Do not hide this beauty from me. If you wish to wear it in public, I will stand by that decision. But it would do me a great disservice if you hid away such art when we are alone.”
Your wedding was perfect, if Aemond had any opinion on it. Your hard work had paid off tenfold. Every guest had enjoyed the feast after you were bound to Aemond. It felt like your greatest accomplishment, proving you were up to this insurmountable task of marrying a prince.
When all the Lords were too overtaken by their food and drink to notice, Aemond took your hand and led you away from the main hall. For a moment, you worried about how it would look if you were to be seen alone together. Then you remembered you were now married and felt relieved, albeit a little stupid.
“Where are we going? We will be missed,” you said, giggling a bit as you followed close behind him.
“Most are too drunk to remember they have toes, I doubt we will be missed too much,” he assured you.
You followed him in silence. It was sweet, you thought, that he was eager to finally have a true moment alone with him. He allowed himself to be soft with you, something you adored. It allowed an ease to be felt between the two of you.
The two of you trekked through the entirety of the Keep. Upstairs, downstairs, around corners, and through doorways you didn’t know existed. Then he brought you through a last doorway that lead into one of the apartments that you had never before been in.
It was a room almost too grand to imagine. It was filled with an inexplicable warmth you had missed since first coming to King’s Landing. The furniture was the standard styles of all the Keep’s furniture, being obviously expensive and well crafted. What caught your eye was the subtleties of it.
Grape vines had been made to grow so that they hung over the windows. You could smell the salty sea water of Blackwater Bay with every small gust of wind. A bowl of peaches laid on the bedside table. The duvet on the bed was a deep burgundy as though it were made from the sweetest wine.
“It occurred to me that you have not returned home since you arrived,” Aemond’s voice entered your ears.
You had been too busy looking over everything to remember his existence. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were keeping and tears flooded to your eyes. The room felt exactly like how you remembered The Arbor.
He lead you to the windows, holding your waist with one hand. He kept you on his right side, his good side, as he did so. He looked down at you as you looked up to him.
“Part of your wedding gift is that I have ensured there will be no bedding ceremony,” he whispered while placing his hand on your chin.
“Aemond, I…there are no words,” you stammered out, as your eyes widened. There was no way you could imagine how it was possible. It was expected of royalty.
“Your other part, is this,” he told you. With a gentle grip, he turned your face outwards before removing his touch.
It was beautiful. The night sky littered with stars, the Bay extending into the horizon, forgetting the existence of the land that it was meant to wash away. Lights flickering had dotted the landscape.
“I fear I do not understand,” you whispered, looking to him confused. You realized he had taken his eyepatch off while you weren’t paying attention. Once again your breath was taken from you.
He looked from the beauty of the night to you. You were his own private beauty, one that he would get to keep for his entire life.
“I know you do not love me,” he told you, shaking his head when you began to say something. “No, no, I understand. And it does not deter me from loving you every moment of my life.”
“I want to love you,” you whispered breathlessly.
“It is okay if you do not. But my gift to you is a promise,” he said, his fingers running along your jawline. “I am the second son of a king who cannot remember how to chew his food, let alone care for his family. I have never held any lands, nor have I ever proved myself in battle. But my heart and soul are yours. We can go wherever you wish. I will build you a castle from the ground to the stars with nothing but my hands if you asked me to. I promise you I will spend every breath giving you every star. I will give you my entirety.”
You didn’t look away from him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, every moment feeling like you were seconds away from crying. Whenever you thought of love and devotion, this was what you thought of. He was willing to set the world on fire for you even without the promise of love.
“Maybe I could learn to love you, too.”
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Hi! Just curious, what are your favorite comic runs? I've finished the comics on my current to-read list so I love hearing what other people like!
hello! as always i’m sure i’m forgetting plenty of stuff but these are some of my favs, both completed and ongoing series.
completed:
batman: the knight (2022)
miniseries, 10 issues total, so it’s extremely readable and really satisfying in a short amount of time! i like zdarsky’s bruce a lot (i’ve also enjoyed his work on the current batman run) and carmine di giandomenico’s art is fantastic. also, it’s the ghost-maker origin story and bruce & khoa somehow get divorced at least twice before the story’s over. love that for them.
superman: american alien (2015)
anthology collection about clark kent through the years, a really great read for superman—digging into clark’s character rather than focusing on external plot!—with some great cameos too (like young adult clark getting mistaken for some rich guy named bruce wayne at a yacht party, or reporter clark running into pre-robin dick grayson).
future state (2021) batman: dark detective
i am not immune to dan mora’s bruce wayne, especially when he is skrunkly and beat up the whole time.
batman: urban legends (2021)
an anthology so you can kind of pick up/put down as you like! these are a good read if you don’t want to be tracking huge overarching plotlines for a bit. the first few issues have a great jason series too.
ongoing series aka my current pulls at the comic shop:
spirit world (2023)
this one is new and is SO fun and compelling; i love xanthe already, and the assorted cast (including constantine and cass!) and new side characters (bowen my beloved, i’d die for you if you weren’t already dead) are delightful. one of those comics where i’m genuinely interested in the plot too and not just reading for my favs. alyssa wong is doing some really cool things with this concept/cast and i hope they have a chance to do way more in this world.
batman/superman world’s finest (2022)
again, i am not immune to dan mora, or the delightful superbat of it all. (and robin!dick! i love him.) i also started reading waid’s teen titans spin-off that takes place in this same era and there are only a few issues out so far but i’m having a great time.
city boy (2023)
i am OBSESSED with this concept (sentient cities! sharp-edged/lonely character figuring out his connection to them!) and the writing is super fun so far. also the intro comic (free on kindle/elsewhere; also has a free spirit world issue) has a great nightwing run-in.
i’m also subscribed to nightwing, superboy: the man of tomorrow, action comics (anything with kon crumbs…), and dark knights of steel (listen…i am still holding out hope for more royal court spy!tim crumbs), and i don’t know much about shazam yet but i’m giving the new series a try too.
#hope there’s something here for your reading list!#asks#comics#batman#superman#spirit world#city boy
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wyll, in my opinion, gets the standard fare treatment for characters that are unequivocally good. i.e. people think he's boring and uninteresting. standard fare might be kind actually given the level of racism and unexplained slander (which is often just more thinly veiled racism). his reputation about being boring is not helped by the very blatant neglect of his storyline post his rewrite and release. as a wyll enjoyer i am hyperaware of the sorry state of his current story in all three acts
despite all of that and the glaring flaws - i still believe that wylls storyline is worth of being engaged with and explored.
one of the reasons (not the most major one, but one) i think wyll experiences so much neglect as a companion stems from a wider idea that "goodness" is always the uncomplicated, easy choice.
it's something i see a lot. wyll is boring because of his archetype as a princely and universally righteous guy. and this is interesting, because it always seems to functions under the assumption that wylls moral character is innate. that his heroic and righteous actions are in some capacity, uncomplicated.
uniquely among the male origin companions, through the course of wylls story - there is never a point in which he is at risk of making a truly 'bad' choice. both gale and astarions story have them at risk of making choices that are ultimately bad for them and others (especially tav when each character is romanced). gales godhood and astarions ascension are their in game moral failings. they are the result of having not broke the cycle and are 'bad' choices for the individual character.
wylls main choice is however his pact and the choice to break that pact. notably - wyll is never at risk of making a bad choice, only a selfish one.
from the critique i see of wyll - it seems like this is the element of him people find most egregious. he's too smooth, not rugged enough, not gritty enough. but i don't think wyll's character needs grit, necessarily.
if you take any time to dissect wyll at all, based on dialogue and character interaction, many of his choices put himself at the forefront of sacrifice. the game strips wyll of a lot of agency, but wyll also always abides by and sticks to his core belief. so often towards his own detriment.
not only does wyll bear the consequence of being turned into a devil (stripping him of the last remaining shred of identity he's ever had and one of the most important things in his life), he bore the burden of being banished when he made his pact, and was willing to do the same for the sake of his father when he is taken to moonrise.
and unlike gale (who i adore, to be clear) who's concept of self-sacrifice stems mostly from a low self-worth - the belief that dying is the best he can do - wyll truly views that it's better him than them.
wyll does not think twice about allowing himself to be the one to take the fall. he can play any part, take any role, even when these choices haunt him so obviously. wyll claims that he forgives his father, but opens up to you about fearing his feelings of missing him are one-sided. he believes that making his pact was the right choice, the one he would make again - but doesn't deny the obvious pain and solace that came along with being a wandering traveler and banished son.
wylls goodness is so deliberate. he is so staunch in upholding and acting on his beliefs that it is always narrative to his own detriment. when you view wyll like this , and view his choices with regards this character attribute, it is imo very hard to hate him.
wyll's goodness is his double edged sword. it makes him heroic, brave, fearless. and it makes him scared, uncertain and lonely. again, the story itself is bare bones and i understand that - but it is so very beautiful to me thinking of him and tav or just his general romance.
as wylls romance partner, encouraging wyll to break his pact is as tragic as it very beautiful. tav is wylls one selfish thing. one of the only reasons that would move him to not give himself up. one of the only reasons he is okay with forgoing his beliefs. he loves tav enough to break his own oaths, and make choices for himself and no one else. not as the blade, or as a ravengard - but just as wyll.
and that aspect of him is in my opinion, enforced, by the mindflayer tav ending. in which wylls monster-hunting and morals are made exceptions with / for tav. my enjoyment of hero corruption might be speaking for me, but i digress.
in every way though - i truly love wyll as a character. and while im well aware of the critical flaws in his in game story state, i think it's both unfortunate and unfair that people call him boring. to me he is anything but
#aristotle.txt#wyll ravengard#bg3#wyll meta#bg3 wyll#wyll x tav#he is so love of my life coded#this is my experience as a deku defending and lover speaking for me i fear
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Can we have more tea from the mansion? 👉👈
Click here for part 4, which has links to the other three parts
Some of the upstairs floors several years ago had not yet been reinforced (as they have in the present day), and so they were quite weak and fragile. Due to this, everyone was told to be careful and not do anything like roughhousing upstairs. Well, before the floors were reinforced, there were two specific instances. Firstly, Toby got a new pogo stick and Tim warned him NOT to use it upstairs. Toby did, in fact, use it upstairs and he ended up breaking through the ceiling. The second time, Sully and Jeff had gotten into a fight, and Sully suplexed Jeff into the floor, causing both of them to go through. Toby, Jeff, and Sully were required to partake in doing the renovations.
The only time LJ and Jason have ever really had a lasting fight was before one of Jason's galas. As I've said before, he attends many balls and galas in the Underworld so he can remain in the upper class in the Underworld. Well, for these he always dresses up to the nine's in very fancy and original outfits every single time. Before an important one, LJ and Jason were joking around, but as Jason was getting dressed he told Jack to calm down. Jack did not calm down, and he ended up accidentally breaking and spilling a bottle of red wine Jason was going to gift someone on Jason's outfit. Jason was the angriest Jack had ever seen him, and the two didn't speak for months because Jason was so upset, although they talked through it eventually.
Most of the residents have a variety of stuffed animals of some kind. When Sally feels lonely, sometimes she borrows some of their plushies before returning them because she's too shy to ask for them. If anyone notices a plushie is missing, Sally sneaks the plushie next to Smile Dog and says it was him. They all know it's actually Sally, but they don't want to make her upset so they always give Smile a fake lecture and some consolation treats after.
Slender has an incinerator on the property for disposal purposes on the side of the mansion, kind of close to it. When managed correctly this causes no issue, however, Toby one day through some stuff in there he shouldn't have. This caused the incinerator to light on fire, which almost caused the mansion to light on fire. Luckily the damage once they'd finished putting it out wasn't too bad thanks to the incinerator being on concrete, but had it been on the grass Toby would have started a forest fire. Everyone has now lost privileges of access to it and only Slender may use it.
When Jeff first came to the Underworld he was scared and nervous and that caused him to lash out a lot. However, he nearly gave Slender a heart attack one day because Jeff, having to meet Zalgo (as Zalgo is aware of all residents in the Underworld and needs to be aware of any other demons bringing in humans), was not really aware that Zalgo was the king of the Underworld. In fact, he looked up at him in all his anxiety and said, quite loudly and obnoxiously, "Who the fuck is this guy? Why do I have to meet him?" Slender nearly strangled him then and there, but it was pretty obvious Jeff regretted it the moment he said it and Zalgo thought it was funny. Zalgo still teases Slender about that instance to this day.
#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta x reader#slender mansion mayhem#ticci toby#ticci toby headcanon#ticci toby headcanons#jeff the killer headcanons#jeff the killer#jeff the killer headcanon#homicidal liu#homicidal liu headcanon#homicidal liu headcanons#slenderman#slenderman headcanon#slenderman headcanons#sally williams#sally williams headcanons#sally williams headcanon#zalgo#zalgo headcanons#zalgo headcanon#laughing jack#laughing jack headcanons#laughing jack headcanon#jason the toymaker#jason the toymaker headcanons#jason the toymaker headcanon
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choose something cold... (tarot card reading)
"what do you need to know?"
image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul?
image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it.
image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design?
image source
not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.
1.・。.・゜✭
there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself.
however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect.
opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands.
finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.
(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)
2.・。.・゜✭
you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times.
the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better.
the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups.
the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.”
i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.
(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)
3.・。.・゜✭
so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm.
this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same.
the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying.
in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome.
the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are!
finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.
(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)
#tarot#tarotblr#tarot reading#tarotcommunity#tarot cards#pick a card#pick a picture#pick a pile#pick an image#pac#spirituality#spiritual#witchblr
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Ive been reading the older comics (1950s) of World’s Finest, and I just realised Batman is so smiley and full of expression while Superman kind of isn’t. Is there a reason for this change or is it just the authors and time changing haha
YES!! Yes to both but I have so much to say about this because it's not just about time changing, but the way real life changed is intertwined in the comics in their character growths.
Batman
Let's start with the grim avenger. Here's the thing - the grim avenger wasn't grim because he had Dick Grayson by his side and I'll explain how the medal ages and Bruce's happiness is connected to how close Dick was to Bruce and the relationship Dick had with Bruce influences his view later on of his father in comparison to how the rest of the batkids see Bruce.
As you said, Bruce was the happiest he's ever been in the 1950s. He and Dick had the time of their lives, sunshine, glory, joy, adventure - you name it and they had it all. This was the Golden Age.
Batman (1940) Issue #46
Detective Comics (1937) Issue #95
But as time passed, Dick eventually began to grow up. When the Teen Titans first formed, the Golden Age of comics transitioned into the Silver Age as Dick began to work more independently from Bruce but was still close. The Bronze Age was when Dick was on the cusp of leaving and then just left (1970s-1985s).
The reason I'm bringing this up as to why Bruce changed, it has to do with Dick. When Dick went off to college, Bruce actually shut the cave down and moved out of the manor with Alfred because he didn't know how to be Batman without Dick. He said he was going on a little soul-searching to find himself again.
Batman (1940) Issue #217
But real-life readers got really mad this and said, "Bruce was always a grim detective. When he was with Robin, he was too happy! We want to see him angry like he used to be!" So the writers realized that Bruce turning away from Batman was huge mistake so this set forth the grim avenger batman thing again.
Dick also feels the same way, that him moving to college was what changed the dynamics between them.
Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13
Granted Bruce is mad that Dick decided to drop out of college in favor of being Robin but it's also about the fact that Bruce wouldn't have responded like this before. Something's changed. And overall it can be summed up to Bruce being angry, frustrated, upset, and lonely with Dick gone, those emotions compounding into a new or renegaded form of Batman, Dick coming back and realizing - he doesn't want to be controlled and he doesn't want to be this new darker version of Bruce. The change in idealisms were Dick is more light-hearted and Bruce is slowly becoming Darker weighs on Bruce too.
Bruce's pov of the situation -
Batman (1940) Issue #138
Dick's pov -
Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13
Dick didn't want to be like Batman, Bruce was already upset but Dick's gradual distance from who he was turning into combined with his frustration of himself - it led Bruce to become the person he is now, someone he doesn't like and it's this circling self-hatred of what he become that keeps him perpetually angry and moody.
It's so important to talk about this because it's not just a time change, it's actively part of the comics. It's part of who Bruce is and why he is this way now. To explain more on what I said and elaborate further on what you said about Bruce becoming less smile-y :
Batman (1940) Issue #359
He lashes out at Dick, feels bad about it, and grumps over how he can't trust anyone in the world and this just keeps continuing over the years.
Tim and Dick actually talk about this too, the idea that Bruce was different with Dick then he was later on. Going on a slight tangent here but during one time in Gotham Knights Dick gets "dismayed" at Tim because Tim questions Bruce's morality and Dick's like "How dare you! He's a good person, he's amazing." And Tim's just like "No, he's not??"
Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26
Dick grouches about this with Barbara and she tells him -
Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26
slayy
Again what she says "First of all, the Bruce who raised you and the Bruce who works with Tim are not exactly the same man. Tim has had a very different experience, and is likely to have very different thoughts and beliefs."
Tim says it too in Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying when he's comparing Dick and Jason's Robin eras -
Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying
And Dick talks about it again with Checkmate in the Checkmate (2006) comic about how he used to make Bruce laugh. He's quiet for a moment and then they talk somberly about how Bruce never laughs anymore.
So to sum it all up, the reason Bruce changed was because Dick drifted apart from him as he aged and he grew more independent, and Bruce as a result felt stifled and upset by this change and grew more independent too but in a darker way, and all these changes between Dick and him as well as within himself led to him being gloomier and grumpier. The authors also played a big part in acknowledging Bruce changing as a result of Dick leaving but also due to the readers' responses of having Batman return to his stern countenance of a time before Dick came along. Hence the decreasing medal ages that went from a happy Bruce Wayne to the sad and waspish one we know now. But maybe it also has to do with the fact that Bruce and Dick stopped getting to ride the backs of dinosaurs, fight pirates, and play prince and the pauper with real princes lol.
Superman
Clark is a very different story and I think it's because of how it's the reverse of Batman. In the beginning Clark was very - stern? He definitely wasn't smiling or laughing or fuzzy feelings but it wasn't the author's intention for him to be any of that. In the beginning, Superman was portrayed be a powerful and virtuous hero, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. This portrayal was aimed at providing readers an uplifting and optimistic character during hard times because he was created in 1939 and it was the end of the Great Depression (1929 - 1939) and the beginning of WWII (1939 - 1945). The fact that it was the end of the great depression only made it worse because the depression only ended due to millions of men and women going off to fight war. So it was just VERY upsetting times and therefore Superman was a symbol of hope - for the war.
Superman (1939) Issue #12
Superman (1939) Issue #8
Superman (1939) Issue #34
But as soon as the war ended, you see a shift in the way Superman is written.
Superman (1939) Issue #36
Superman (1939) Issue #76
I guess it all comes down to this - Clark's writers were focused on his deeds. It was about solving problems and that's it. Whereas with Bruce, the focus was on solving problems but it was done through his relationships. He relied heavily on Dick as a partner and best friend and they were able to share their difficulties and have fun whereas Clark had no one, except Lois but in civilian identity. Because of this, it wasn't until later comics when writers started introducing new elements, exploring different aspects of his character, and adapting to the changing cultural and social contexts that these interpretations have included moments of joy, personal growth, and triumphs, as well as challenges, conflicts, and moments of introspection.
Superman: Heroes
It was both the ending of the war and gradually interacting with other characters that made his personality lighter and funner to read. You can even think about it this way - as Clark started to rely more on people, he started to open up and become more light hearted as the years passed but as Bruce began to distrust people and rely less on others, his personality grew darker and angrier. Bruce and Clark went through the same personality changes but Bruce started pretty early on with Dick and lost him leading to a downward turn in personality whereas Clark started with no one then gained Lois and Jimmy Olsen causing an upward trend. Two sides of a coin.
Moral of the story folks: learn to rely on others or end up like Batman.
#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#robin dick grayson#tim drake#robin tim drake#barbara gordon#oracle#joey wilson#clark kent#superman#cl anon asks#cl asks#thanks for the ask!
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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 2 <<Part 1
-You are sitting on a bench in the lakeside park, reading a book and enjoying the bright winter sunshine when a cold nose presses into your hand. You look up to find a blue pitbull nuzzling you for pets. “Oh hi there, baby,” you coo, scratching his broad head without a thought. You follow the leash to the owner, and are very surprised to see Mr. Wick standing there, looking endearingly embarrassed about it all. “Sorry,” he says. “He pulled me over here.” He gives the dog a look as it leans against you, getting side scritches with a blissed-out doggo look. You have a notion that Mr. Wick might be jealous, somehow, but you push it away.
“That’s ok. What a good boy. What’s his name?”
“Um…Dog.”
You smirk up at him. “Original.”
He sighs, looking at you through his hair, and it pulls at your heartstrings for some reason. You pat the bench beside you, and he accepts, though he sits as far away as he can. “He likes you,” he says, looking ruefully down at the dog. “Do you have pets?”
“No,” you admit. “I travel too much.”
“Yeah?”
You can tell he’s surprised to hear this. Most people are. But you live frugally on your barista’s salary so you can go abroad for a month or so. You’re a budget traveler for sure, but you’ve been all over the world.
“Yes. I’m going to Italy this summer.”
“Sounds nice.”
“You’ve been?”
“Several times. For work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m retired.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you leave it for now. You don’t really talk anymore, just look at the lake, and pet his dog who leans all his solid weight against your leg. You are content in the companionable silence.
You think he is too.
- It’s interesting sometimes, watching the interpersonal pageants of the regulars. When thrice divorced Victoria Fraser-Sims lays eyes on Mr. Wick for the first time in what you have come to consider his corner, she starts coming in for a lot more no-fat double-shot sugar-free vanilla lattés. All the locals are quite…aware…of Vicky’s predatory habits. A part of you wonders if you should warn Mr. Wick, but you reckon a single man who looks like him is quite used to fending off hungry cougars.
She starts by sitting near his table in her tight workout clothes, ostensibly bending over to pick up repeatedly dropped objects, affording various views of her generous cleavage and spin-class toned rear end. You know you have no right to feel so pleased that Mr. Wick seems to ignore her.
But then she ups her game, so bold as to sit down at his table with him to chat. He talks to her politely. One day, she actually succeeds in making him laugh. You hear it, loosed like an arrow that strikes you from across the room.
You have zero right to be jealous, of course, but you can’t help it. You and Mr. Wick have a thing.
Maybe just in your own head, but still.
But maybe they would be a good couple, you reason sadly, making yourself think realistically. Closer to the same age. And he does seem so lonely.
A few days later they come in the door together, seeming content, and your heart plummets to your feet. Holy shit, she actually pulled it off. They’re dating, you’re perfectly convinced.
In that moment you decide to back off. Mr. Wick is at least twenty years your elder. What the fuck would he want with an awkward little gremlin like you? It’s amazing sometimes, how well you can delude yourself. A curse of having a vivid imagination, perhaps. He’s just polite, and you are kind to him, because he seems a little broken. You resolve to behave. No more quips. No more teasing. From this day forward it shall be only, Here’s your coffee, yes sir, have a good day.
You’ve never been terribly good at keeping resolutions, but you’re going to try.
-Your determination to leave Mr. Wick alone is timed conveniently with a new hire who is around your age. He is and cute, and you get on immediately. Your flirting is fairly harmless, though you know the shop is filled with loud laughter from the two of you when your shifts coincide. Sometimes you feel Mr. Wick looking over at you after you’ve had a good chortle, and you sense he is annoyed.
Once, you catch him glaring at Brian’s back like he might like to carve the boy’s liver.
You try to quiet down, but it never really lasts. It’s been a while, since you’ve met someone who you click with so well. A comrade makes working in the service industry slightly more endurable, after all.
-One day, you burn yourself on the steamer wand while Mr. Wick is waiting for his order. Maybe it’s the volume of the unladylike expletive that spills from your lips, but he does not hesitate to come around the counter to check on you. It hurts like a motherfucker, and while you blink back tears you are quick to dig out ice to put on it. He even more quickly bats it into the sink, flipping the faucet on. “Cold water is better.”
Before you know it he is guiding your wrist into the stream with a gentle but exacting grip. “Hold that there,” he instructs. You can’t fathom disobeying him.
Brian stares rather dumbfoundedly at the customer behind the counter. “Um…sir? You can’t be back here.”
“Then get her the first aid kit instead of standing there looking useless,” he snaps, and the young man jumps into action, scurrying away.
John gives a low whistle once you’ve finished with the cold water, blotting you dry at the butt end of the counter. “You got yourself good.”
“It’s not the first time,” you sigh. You’re not particularly clumsy, but it happens when you’re juggling five things at once to keep the drink orders moving.
John bandages the burn for you, frowning at the salve provided in the first aid kit that expired years ago, but deciding it will do in a pinch. His long-fingered hands are precise, but gentle, and as he touches you, you feel your brain turn to mush. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this.
Maybe he’s not mad at you after all.
Later that day you appear from the back, to find a little paper pharmacy bag on the counter with your name written in concise black print. Inside there is more ointment, large Band-aids, and a little Snickers chocolate bar.
How did he know it’s your favorite?
Even though you didn’t see him come or go, you know it was Mr. Wick, and this small gesture touches you to tips of your toes.
#john wick#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves#yandere john wick#yandere#bittersweet john wick imagine#john wick fic#john wick imagine
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