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#like how incompetent you have to be while being a god?
mogekolover · 1 year
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i was tending to some plants when it suddenly hit me: From where does manwha Lucas get his egocentric, lazy and irresponsible traits??
From the novel version of him, I know from where he gets them, but the manwha never makes it clear with him, while with other characters(Athanasia, Ijekiel, Jennette and Claude) we know at least the main thing that makes them act the way they are:
Athanasia: She acts sure of herself, is energetic and materialistic(although responsible and studious) because of her living in poverty in korea. Having so much money makes her energetic and carefree, which adds to her materialistic trait. her want to study comes from that lack of resources, and her responsibility too.
Ijekiel: He's what Roger wanted him to be, he likes what Roger approved he could like, and acts the way it's expected(and also Roger expected) for him to act. It's made clear when he himself says "He finally had something to call his" referring to his first meeting with Athanasia. Ijekiel was a puppet, he was destined to be Rogers poppet, and although this was broken by this unconventional meeting, he still acted the way Roger said to him he should.
Jennette: Basically the same as Ijekiel, just that Roger decided to go on a different route with her. While his son was supposed to be the most capable and notable person on the empire because of his achievements, Jennette was to be "The Kind-Hearted long lost daughter of Emperor Claude". She was supposed to be kind, gullible(because how else was he going to make her his second poppet), social and lovely. She was never supposed to be remarkable like Ijekiel, as we know Roger started pressuring her in her studies when he met Athanasia and learned she was nearly as intelligent as his son.
Claude: We all know his backstory. The abuse he suffered in his childhood and teenage years just made him an ice cube. Then Diana came along, he fell inlove and was happy, then she died and he was even more traumatized :D
But Lucas... In the manwha he's like, jesus christ or something, he just poofed into existence(according to him and what his master/teacher told him... wtf), so, does that mean that The World Tree(TWT) made him? If that's true, why did TWT *let* him develop such a personality trait?
We could say that the previous magician of the black tower may have done something for him to develop such a trait, but in the only scene we see of them together, Lucas is completely unable to understand nor feel empathy for the grief his previous master/teacher is suffering, and that's pretty contradictory if it's true the theory that TWT made Lucas.
If Lucas was supposed to be Jesus Christ of wmmap world, why let Lucas, not only completely ignore the messages the Tree sends him without receiving any type of punishment, but also being able to do harm to the Tree itself(Also without receiving any type of punishment)? Doesn't really make sense to me.
I mean, Lucas could be his first(?) successful attempt at making a human doll to make whatever-something happen, but that would be so incredibly grim if you think about it. Because that would mean that TWT NEEDED:
Lucas to, somehow, make Aethernitas(ESPECIFICALLY HIM) so mad at him to stay petty for 200 years.
From that pettiness, make Aethernitas dabble into dark magic.
Have Aethernitas target Anastacius(for what? Who the fuck knows) to then control/brainwash(?) Anastacius into being a piece of shit to Claude(and also dabbling in black magic).
This prompting him sleeping with Penelope and colluding with her to get rid of Claude(AKA making Jennette)
This making Claude despise him so much as to make a rebellion and basically wanting to kill him
Thus making Claude emperor and him meeting Diana, which makes Athanasia happen
WHICH THEN PROMPTS
Athanasia dying three fucking times, being abused in different ways in her first and second lives and dying not only hated by everyone and charged of a crime she didn't commit(WITHOUT A TRIAL BEING MADE) but also in such a forgettable(bc the news aren't going to cover that story, she's just a number in the total of people who ended up "dying from from the cold" that night) ways in both of those lives. AND LETS NOT FORGET how TWT only blessed Athanasia IN HER THIRD LIFE. Like, YOU LET HER DIE 2 TIMES TO BLESS HER AND SAVE HER FROM HER SUFFERINGS?!?!?!?!
And all for what?
Nothing.
Because it also doesn't make sense with the way TWT acts/thinks. Spoon herself showed us that he's always sending Lucas requests to go save some country from epidemics, floods, famine. That means the Tree cares for humans.
That's why I think it doesn't make any sense the way Lucas is so egocentric and so incredibly full of himself :D
Note: Can we just talk about how Lucas is so sure of his feeling towards Athanasia when he comes back from TWT? Is like he got his software updated and learned what "being in love" is lmao
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ablazeinhim · 6 months
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feeling like such a loser lately and like is it the winter or is the introversion or is it the disability???
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tubbytarchia · 3 months
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Doc and Jimmy brainrot part 1 lmao oh no
Basically "What if Doc was in the Life games and Jimmy triggered his parental instincts again". You guys will see my vision. I don't care what it takes. You will see this very specific vision I have god damn it if it's the last thing I do
This is all I have to use as propaganda right now but some ideas and justification below cut!!
Been imagining a lot of Doc/Jimmy interactions both in a traffic and HC context, both of which I'd love to draw for but obvs this for now is 3rd life and I want to draw a little something for each Life series. You'll see!!
The general idea is inspired by a moment from one of the Decked Out streams in which Jimmy calls for Etho and Doc's all "you're triggering my parental instinct... I wanna take you into my hand and take you to a safe place" yep that's it that's the whole inspiration!!
Jimmy deserves love and he does get it to various degrees ofc (Tango, Bad Boys etc) but man... It's so fun to me to imagine Doc in traffic, I think he claimed that he didn't want to be part of the life games because he was afraid of being too competitive (or so I heard), but god it's so fun to imagine big scary mad scientist goat man in that scenario and him probably going at it on his own a lot of the time, but this god forsaken mf Jimmy knows exactly how to unintentionally trigger his parental instincts. I want Doc to subtly take Jimmy under his wing especially as Jimmy keeps dying first. So maybe Jimmy is a bit incompetent and loud as far as he knows, but he sees that he's trying his best and the dad in him can't help but intervene just a tiny bit (and I do mean just a tiny bit) as the games go on. Yes I'm just gonna shove Doc into the Life Games just because I wish this dynamic could have happened and I beg you to put up with it!!
For the above drawing specifically since, sigh, I'm slow and that's all I have to offer rn... it's of course 3rd life, starting off. I imagine Jimmy's wings sprouting during that, because the whole "canary curse" began with the Life Games etc. And this post isn't about FH but just for context as I imagine it, Scott who doesn't like unpredictability convinces him to clip his wings (thanks Bree) because Jimmy's not a proper avian (unlike Grian who has a more "airborne" body, bird feet etc rather than just... wings) and he'd never be able to take flight anyway, those wings would only encumber him. (And then Jimmy keeps clipping them himself until DL Ranchers but cough this post isn't about that). I imagine the avians (for my specific roster, just Grian) have their wings magically clipped anyway just enough to prevent flight and make the games fair. Doc ofc isn't avian himself but he knows that Grian greatly frowns upon the act of willingly clipping wings so when he sees that Jimmy's quickly growing wings have been clipped as well, he can't help but ask, because why would that be necessary while his wings are so small anyway? And Jimmy's response triggers a wee bit of fatherly concern in him but thats it for 3rd life woo
For the rest I just wanna draw more tiny moments of interaction until I get to Secret Life, I guess!! The brainrot is really fucking strong guys
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1800-lemonadeg1rl · 6 days
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Sniffle any louder
Natasha Romanoff x reader
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Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆
Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state
Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread
Word count - 2k
A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry
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Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.
Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.
Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.
Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.
She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.
This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.
Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.
After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.
Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.
Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.
"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.
Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.
She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.
Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.
"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.
"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."
Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.
"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.
"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."
You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.
"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.
"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."
"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.
"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.
You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.
Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.
"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.
You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.
Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling
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lemonyboy97 · 2 months
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Heyyy I like your writing, and I was wondering if you could do like fluff/comfort of like Val, vox, and/or alastor with a reader who gets really socially anxious and shuts down when they get overwhelmed?
Wasnt sure what gender reader was so i did neutral, thank you so much for the ask! I havent gotten one in forever and i was fresh out of inspo ❤️❤️🫂 love you anon! (Also i threw in different relationship dynamics to spice things up and also because i cant imagine alastor being ANYONES 'boyfriend', that man would go from 'close friend and confidant' to 'fiancé')
Pop in and leave me a request on my new blog!
Fiancé!Vox, Boyfriend!Val, Husband!Alastor (seperate) x gn!anxious!reader
Warnings: brief mentions of sadism, anxious reader (obviously), not quite my definition of a panic attack but close to it
(Im going to do some loose headcannons about each of the boiz, then include a oneshot for each of them)
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Fiancé!Vox
Headcannons:
I feel like Vox would be the best out of the 3 in this scenario, as he's the least sadistic. Vox is a very protective lover, he's also compassionate and doting (behind closed doors). If Vox notices you (its really a matter of when not if because this man WILL notice) becoming overwhelmed or overstimulated he is gently guiding you away from the crowd to check on you, 'Are you okay?', 'do you want to leave?', 'is there something specific bothering you?' are FAQs (frequently asked questions) His way of dealing with the issue is removing you from the situation altogether- taking you back home, wether thats to your shared apartment or the Vee's headquarters depends on whichevers closest.
Scenario:
You and your fiance, Vox, are at a release event for the newest VoxTech drop. Vox is proudly harping about the newest Tech he’s developed, an even prouder arm around your waist; how could he not be proud with his pretty little love on his arm? (He calls you his ‘pretty little thing’, ‘little love’ no matter your gender or size) He’s so absorbed in his success that at first he doesn't notice the subtle tremble in your hands, or the way you curl into him as if trying to hide, or maybe the way you flinch at the bright camera flashes. But when you let out a barely audible whine Vox immediately turns to you, all ears.
Vox suddenly realizes how overstimulating this all must be; the flashing cameras, the loud and frantic crowd, the music in the background, the shouting, the rowdy demons who are protesting- oh god how could he have been so negligent?
Vox is immediately passing the reins over to Velvette (much to her dismay), and gingerly leading you through the crowd, towards the back door.
“It’s alright, lovely, just through here… There we go…”
His words are gentle, and the hands on your shoulders to guide you are 10x more so. He leads you out the back and to the limo, and once you’re sequestered away inside he just waits- He knows when you’re ready for touch you’ll initiate. He knows that for now, just the knowledge that someone is aware and looking after you is enough to help de-escalate the situation.
“There you go, doll, breathe yeah? In…. Out…. In…. Out… good job, love, doing so well for me”
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Boyfriend!Valentino
Headcannons:
Val is definietly more of a 'what do you mean?' Kind of guy, or 'just breathe?', you know? We know from his workers (ahem angeldust ahem) that he isnt the most... understanding with weaknesses and the like. So- while I feel like Val's approach is a bit more 'deal with it by not dealing with it' than Vox's, it is still heartfelt for his wonderful gf/bf/partner. Even if he wont directly address it, Valentino is the type to try and reassure you through touch, wether thats what you need or not, thats what he's got because this man KNOWS he is brash and he doesnt want to make things worse.
Scenario:
You had walked to Valentino's studio to bring him homemade lunch after he was complaining about his imps being 'inconcievably incompetent'. You are now awkwardly standing backstage, out of sight, as he directs a particularily.... raunchy... scene. You are visibly uncomfortable with screams and various sounds of... mixed sensations.. echoing around the set, along with flashing lights and dizzying scents. Altogether they make an array of overstimulating inputs, and after setting down said lunch on a side bench, a pretty note tucked into the lip of the basket, you stumble back outside, trying to catch your breath. Val follows you shortly after, he caught sight of you from across the set.
Valentino carefully sits beside you, pulling you into his side.
"You alright there, babycakes?"
You shakily nod, but Val sees right through you. He sighs and kisses your temple as he absentmindedly rubs your shoulders.
"Thought I warned you 'bout my work hours, baby"
You slowly explain that you just wanted to surprise him with lunch and he smiles, kissing the inside of your wrist.
"Damn, sugar, shoulda started with that, hm? Why don't I pop in and grab it- then we can share it out here while you get your head back on."
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Husband!Alastor
Headcanon:
This man. This. MAN. It can go one of two ways depending on where your relationship is with him- but in this you are married so- he would be so attentive- like. You would barely be feeling the 'oh hey, this is a lot' feeling and Al would pick up on it and knight in shining armor you away from it. Alastor just KNOWS. He has like a sixth sense when it comes to you. He is so finitly attuned to every fibre of your being that you cant even hide it from him. He just KNOWS. Like- you're in cannibal town (because be real y'all go on dates there all the time and Rosie adores you) and the children are being rowdy but 'its alright, i can manage-' oh and there's Susan- 'yes susan, we are married- no, no susan you cant see my ring im a bit worried you might try to eat my finger- No, really i insist-' oop and here comes Alastor, scooping you up with a charming grin, Rosie on his heels. 'Come along now darling, our dinner is waiting'
Scenario:
You and Alastor are in the hotels lobby, greeting guests for a party Charlie is throwing to 'encourage the inhabitants', Alastors hand is protectively on the small of your back like always. The arriving demons are a bit rowdy but nothing too bad- the real issue is the howling, rambunctious laughter coming from the bar, poor karoke all but screamed into the low quality microphone (much to Husk's annoyance), flashing strobe lights arouns the room turning the guests pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue-
"Dear?"
Careful fingers snap in front of your face- effectively lurching you out of your spiraling thoughts. You swallow thickly and look up at your husband, shaky smile plastered on your lips.
'Yes, Al?'
He frowns as he gaze flits from one eye to the other, then, his mind seemingly made up, he summons his shadow, scoops you up, and shadow travels back to you twos shared room.
"Oh lovely, this certianly wont do"
He dotes on you, rubbing your tense shoulders, kissing the crown of your head, murmuring sweet nothings to your skin as he lays you down in your shared, king bed. And later, once you're half asleep and content in his arms, he lovingly murmurs,
"No more of Charlie's so-called 'parties' for you, my sweet"
A/n: Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated! And yes i did like my own post. I am very proud of this, i wrote it in one day WHILE (legally) high on loopy pain medicine
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okay so. that qsmp bts stuff. it's pretty ugly! it's also like. i'll be honest. it's not hard for a group, especially a largely volunteer group of well meaning people trying their best, to get into massive trouble with incompetent, misguided, and/or just flat out malicious management. this has happened before and it will happen again. it's also a problem that has been solved before and will be solved again, especially now that it's out in the open and we know about it and we can fix it
do i know how to fix it? no.
you know who might have some ideas tho?
badboyhalo of munchymc who has so so so much experience specifically running minecraft servers what have events on them
cellbit with the entire massive production company it takes to put on ordem paranormal which is specifically a twitch based roleplay thing
any number of the many other seasoned industry professionals that quackity has surrounded himself with who have been doing this for a lot longer than he has and made his mistakes on a much smaller scale already
quackity is 23 years old. i think most of the admin team that we know about have been closer to his age than the ccs. the upper management clearly needs to some big shakeups. with this much public pressure, i think it'll happen. i don't know if they'll be fired or just have the fear of God put in them, but this is going to open doors to fix a lot of the problems that we've been having with hte qsmp for a while and hopefully make things much better for the admins and the viewers
also that being said, it's entirely possible that the admins may still not end up being paid what they're worth. to be clear, this would be Bad, but it would not surprise me. i also think twitch mods should be paid but it doesn't surprise me when that doesn't happen either. quackity is already running the qsmp at a loss so there just genuinely may not be money to pay them any more. if that's the case though, you do have to, like, be honest about that up front.
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diejager · 6 months
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Brain blurry, thinking about Konig being so nervous with you on the first night together so you have to take the ropes and help him have sex. Not that he's a virgin, but it's been far too long since he's had a partner interested in sexual intimacy and doesn't really know how to handle everything on his own.
Guiding Hand Cw: smut, switch!reader, sub?switch?König???, marking, tell me if I missed any.
He hasn’t had a moment to himself in a long time, or had the time to share his time and space with someone else. He’d told you so, being slightly apprehensive about sexual intimacy, especially with someone smaller than him, fragile and weak when faced with his giant, ramrod figure. He has fears, anxieties that he doesn’t share often, not about the uncertainty of his ability, but about not being able to please you like he wanted to.
He fumbled a bit, hands shaking when he reached for you, unsure of where to hold you and how to hold you. He hissed at his own incompetence, feeling as if he was letting you down, to let you dream and fail you.
“I’m sorry, Schatz,” he mumbled, warm palms cradling your face, his thumb running a line under your eye. “It’s been a while.”
König found himself blessed to have you, your guiding hands around his, your soothing voice coaxing him into sitting while you took care of him. You encouraging words at his soft moans, gifting him with loving words when he groaned out in pleasure at his nipples being pulled and tweaked, sucked until they were red and swollen. He let out the sweetest and softest sound, an addicting thing that had you pulling for more, wanting to hear his pleasure.
Your sweet smile at his leaky cock bobbing from his briefs, the tip slapping against his navel before hanging heavily between his legs. Your smile grew into a grin when he twitched in your hands, your small fingers wrapping around the girth of his cock, teasing down his length with feathered touch then jerking skywards, your thumb pressing down on is slit. He rutted against your hands, chasing his high with erratic thrusts of his sinfully slim hip.
Your honeyed mewls and moans while stretching yourself out, fingers wet with slick and lube. His eyes never strayed from your fluttering hole, the sides stretched around two fingers and still contracting. He wished he could replace your fingers, to feel your soft, warm walls around him, clenching and milking his throbbing length. Even when you came over him, he couldn’t get enough of your mewls and thrusting fingers who’s number grew to three.
Your comforting kisses and caresses as you sink down on him, your hands splayed over his chest as you eased his thick cock into you. He gripped your waist, groaning and struggling to hold himself back from slamming into you in a daze of arousal.
“No need to hold back, König,” you promised, the soothing motion of your thumb on his big hands. “I’ll be fine.”
He pulled you down, rutting skyward roughly with a deep growl, his cock twitching when you tightened around him. You threw your head back, baring your flawless throat to him, he was tempted to rise from his seat and bite your neck, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh as he lapped the golden ichor rolling down your shoulder. You bowed down to his face, lips grazing the erogenous spot under his jaw, licking and sucking until his pace grew rough and erratic, moans mixed with grunts slipping through his scarred lips.
God, König was truly blessed with a caring and patient lover like you, never rushing him to tell you his name (though you called him by his callsign per his request and comfort), never rushing him to show you his face and never rushing him to sleep with you. You knew where to bite, where to touch and where to kiss to put him on his knees, melting for a taste of your love.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog
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clockwayswrites · 6 months
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A Broken Sort of Normal- Part 19
WC: 2134, Masterpost
Danny sit up straighter in his chair as he states his name, but Wally can see the wince that Danny tries to hide. Absently, Wally runs through Danny’s schedule of care and when the other will be able to have more pain medication.
“Were you born with powers?” Bruce continues.
“No.”
Wally wants to go to Danny. He wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Danny has powers. It doesn’t mater how he got them. It doesn’t matter that Wally didn’t know. None of it matters to Wally; he’s just glad that Danny is still here.
“Are you comfortable explaining how did you got your powers?”
Danny runs his hand through his hair. He’s nervous. “Some of it. The broad strokes. It was a lab accident, because of course there was. My parents are ecto scientists, they study ghosts. They’re not… let’s just say don’t read their research into ghostly behavior. They are brilliant engineers though. They managed to build a portal to the Infinite Realms—”
“Minging knobheads,” John curses quietly.
“—and I was sorta in the portal when it turned on. Which, um, killed me and revived me at the same time. I was electrocuted while my system was flooded with ectoplasm.”
Killed.
Danny had— Danny had died. Again, before, Danny had died. Wally closed his eyes and swallowed around the catch in his throat. He almost never got the chance to know Danny. A hand fit into his and Wally knows instantly that it’s Dick’s. He grips it back tightly. At least he isn’t listening to this alone.
“It’s not so much that I got powers, as that because I’m half dead, I’m half ghost and I can do the things that ghosts can do. Invisibility, intangibility, flight… things like that. Long story short, someone had to stop the ghosts that the portal let through—”
John is up and pacing now. Zatanna doesn’t even try to stop him.
“—so I sort of became the town hero. I went by Phantom. It was… well, you’ve all been there.”
God, Wally wishes Danny didn’t know how that was.
“Kid… did you even have anyone to help you?” Barry asks.
Danny shrugs. “Two friends and eventually Ja… my older sister.. There are a few ghosts that were sometimes allies but ghosts…”
“Ghosts aren’t good or evil, they’ve got obsessions,” John explains into the silence. “Sometimes those obsessions motivate the ghosts in a way that seems one way or another. It only works out for you as long as your needs aligns with their obsession.”
Wally’s mind spins.
“Danny,” Bruce asks with very careful words, “do you have an obsession?”
He searches back through his memories of Danny.
“Yes.”
It couldn’t be anything anyone would see as bad or dangerous.
“Protection. My obsession is protection. It’s not as compelling to me as it is for a full ghost. For me it’s more like a hunger craving or itch, but it is there. It’s a good part of why I became a paramedic.”
Oh. That made so much sense.
“That’s our Danny,” Danna says, softly, from in their group.
“Why did you not simply join us as a hero?” Diana asks.
“Before, well, things were… complicated? There’s this government agency that considers ghosts non-sentient and—”
Danny jerks back in his chair at all the exclamations that rang out in the room at that. It isn’t just a reaction to the sudden noise, Wally realizes, Danny looks startled at being defended.
It breaks Wally’s heart.
“It’s okay!” Danny says over the din. “They were always pretty incompetent, really, even when working with my parents. I never even ended up vivisected or anything!”
Gar clamps a hand over his mouth and mutters. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Danny,” Dianna says his name gently, “have your parents ever attacked you?”
“They don’t know I’m a halfa. They don’t know I’m Phantom,” Danny says. There’s a pleading note to his voice that makes Wally agree with Gar; he’s going to be sick.
“But they’ve attacked Phantom,” Dianna says. It’s not a question, but Danny nods anyways. “Danny, do we need to set up protection for you from your parents?”
“They don’t know—”
“Kid,” Barry interrupts, “what you did was on the news. Like, every news station across the world. I think they know now.”
Danny sits back in his chair. He picks at the already frayed edge of the hoodie. Suddenly he looks small in a way that Wally’s only seen when Danny’s been in the middle of a panic attack. Any strength Danny’s gathered the last few days seems to leave him as his shoulders slump. “Maybe. I guess… I don’t know how they’ll take the news. It’s… maybe. We’ll, um, more than that someone needs to make sure the portal stays closed down. If the ghosts start coming through again…”
The hand Danny presses against his chest shakes. “I’m not as strong as I used to be. I don’t know if my powers will come back still or if this… is what I am now, but my core is weaker than it used to be. If this the way I’ll be now, I won’t be able to fight them off.”
“Are they dangerous?” Bruce asks. “Beyond the morality of their obsession, are they actively dangerous to you?”
“That’s not an easy question. Mostly the ghosts used Amity Park as a new way to fulfill their obsessions. Lunch Lady wants to feed people, which is good, but if you don’t want to eat things can get nasty. Obsessions are like that, they can twist quickly. The ghosts also just like to brawl, a lot of them at least. Some of them would understand if I can’t and back off, but there are others… take Skulker,” Danny says with a wave of his hand, “his obsession is hunting rare game and, well, I’m rare game. He wants to mount my pelt to his wall.”
With an unpleasant noise, Gar dashes from the room. It makes Danny wince and mumble an apology.
Wally is already mentally calling favors to call in to safeguard their apartment, not that he thinks anyone will say no to protecting Danny.
“We’ll make checking on the portal a priority as soon as this meeting is done,” Bruce assures Danny.
“Thank you. I don’t want anyone to be hurt if it gets turned back on.”
“Why has it been off? If it’s off, why would they turn it back on now?” John asks, still pacing.
Danny looks away from the table again. “Because they remember now.”
“The curse?” John asks at the same time Bary asks, “What do you mean remember?”
“I mean they forgot, because, yeah, the curse,” Danny says. He’s back to picking at his sleeve. Everyone gives him time to try and find his words, which he does with a wet laugh. “I was stupid. I mean, I was young, but I still should have known better. I was just… I was having a hard time. My parents were working on a new GIW contract and my friends… team were going off to college… I was going to be alone to deal with the ghosts. I still should have known better. I just wished I could be normal.”
“That’s not wrong, Danny,” Barry says. “We’ve all felt that sometime…”
Danny’s shaking his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t wish in Amity Park.”
“Because of this Desiree?” Zatanna asks.
“Because of Desiree,” Danny confirms. “Some ghosts have very specific powers and those are usually strong powers. For Desiree, it’s… it was reality altering based on wishes. I forgot to never say ‘I wish’.”
After a moment of comprehending silence, Diana asks, “She had the power to make you fully human?”
“No, even borrowing power like I think she did, Desiree couldn’t do that. But that’s not what she needed to do. Normal isn’t a real thing, it’s just societal, you know? She just had to make sure no one remembered I was half dead and, tada, I had a normal life.”
John finally stops pacing and leans against the back of his chair. His cigarette is a mangled mess dangling from his lips. “What was the catch?”
“I wanted to be normal, so I had to stay normal. I couldn’t be noticed using any of my powers or being too ghostly or tell anyone I had died or what things used to be like. If I did— well you all saw what happened,” Danny looks up, finally, right at Wally. “It’s why I couldn’t tell any of you, even if I wanted too. It’s why I couldn’t use my powers to help. As soon as I did, I was good as dead.”
More than ever Wally wants to rush over to Danny’s side. He wants to let Danny know it’s alright that he kept this secret. It doesn’t matter. He settles for what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
“I still don’t know how I survived. As soon as Desiree appeared and took my powers, that should have been it for me. My ghost half can’t survive without them and my human half isn’t alive enough to last by itself. It would be like cutting off a normal person’s oxygen. I should have been ended.”
“We overloaded her,” Zatanna explains.
“Forced all your power— which there was a fucking lot of it— into her at once,” John finished. “She popped like a balloon with too much air.”
“Did you have to describe it that way?” Hal grumbles.
“Oh.” Danny blinks a few times as he took that in. “I guess, okay. I mean, yeah, I was more powerful than a lot of ghosts; something about being a halfa and my state being mutable still. I didn’t think though… right, okay. But how am I still here?”
“When she popped,” John says with a smirk towards Hal, “the air was full of ambient ectoplasm. Flash zapped you, re-started your heart, and the cloud went up like a match in a fart.”
Danny’s face wrinkled up at that. “Ew. But, alright. I mean it was my power first. I guess that…” Danny’s hand comes up to press over his sternum. “I guess that means this is my power level now.”
“And the rest of the curse?” Zatanna asks, leaning forward in her seat.
“Gone. People remember now.”
Wally thought to all the phone messages Danny had been getting in a new light.
“That’s why we need to make sure the portal is closed.”
“As well as that the GIW are shut down and that your parents do not try to harm you,” Diana says with that firm certainty of hers.
“Right,” Danny says after a beat. It’s hard to see how clearly Danny doesn’t consider himself a priority. “And… for the rest of it all?”
Diana tilts her head in question. “The rest of it?”
“I didn’t tell anyone my status. I lied to some of you. Is that…”
“You did what you needed to stay alive and hurt no one.” She holds up a hand to stop any protests from Danny. “While I have no doubt with your heart as it is you do not wish you could have done more, it would have never been asked of you at the cost of your life. You are a hero, Danny, and have been since you joined the Response Team in Central City. You have only continued to prove it by your willingness to act and the honor with which you did so. The Justice League is proud to still have you as your post, as soon as you are recovered.”
Finally the last of the tension drains Danny’s shoulders. “I’ll be happy to get back to it.”
Wally tunes Diana out as she wraps up the meeting.
“I’m going to ask him,” Wally says to Dick, who still has his hand.
“What? Now?” Dick hisses.
Wally watches as Danny shakes Clark’s hand. “Why not? Everyone’s here, like you said had to be.”
“Because it’s a debrief! That’s not exactly the most romantic moment.”
The other Titans are standing around them, waiting for their chance to see Danny. Even Gar is back.
“I almost missed my chance, N. I almost never got to ask,” Wally pleads. “I don’t want to miss it again.”
Dick just sighs and pulls a small case out of his belt. He presses it into their clasped hands before releasing his grip
Wally can feel the smile stretching across his face. “You know me so well.”
Dick just shoves Wally off his chair. “Go get your man. Ghost? Man ghost.”
Laughing, Wally fumbles to his feet and towards Danny.
“Danny!”
Danny who’s still here and alive.
Who smiles like the sun as he turns towards Wally.
“Yes?”
---
AN: I don't know, is it too cruel to end right there? 😇 Don't worry, we'll get an epilogue to hopefully tie the loose ends up in a bow! But this is the last half of the last full chapter! They know! And they still respect and love Danny. He can stop worrying~
You can subscribe to the masterpost here.
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chuunai · 4 months
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Henlo I have something to add to the 100 followers event if that’s cool
Dazai with scenario 2 and prompt 16. Idk how these things traditionally go but…. Your stuff seems good so far and I’m excited to see what you do with this
Thank you thank you, Anon. Also sorry for how long this took everyone I swear I’m combing through the requests 3_3
✧˚ · . dad first, detective second - dazai osamu
who would’ve imagined the demon prodigy having a hellion of his own?
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summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → baby baby baby, Dazai really likes your boobs, etc.
It’s a perfect night, really.
Your warm body resting against his, limbs lazily tossed over each other as you snuggled and acted like lovesick fools. Moonlight poured in from the cracks of the curtains, casting small slivers on your face. Dazai couldn’t help but think of an angel when it came to you. A heavenly being that granted him a new life and forgave him for his past.
Nudging at your cheek with his nose, his voice came out in a sleepy tone.
“You should sleep, [name].”
His hand reached up to cup your face, playfully using his thumbs to gently close your eyelids like one would do with a body. He’d seen many people in the Mafia do that—try and make the deaths they caused seem more peaceful rather than a brutal end. Dazai himself never did that. No need in beautifying a simple concept of its finality and simplicity.
“Can’t. I know she’s about to wake up. It’s nearly eleven, and we put her to sleep at seven. I can tell.”
You shook your head stubbornly, looking at the baby monitor nearby where static noise and the occasional mix of a tiny snore and coo came from.
His little hellion.
Really, he had no clue how he got so lucky. First with the fact that he impregnated you and you carried his baby. Second with the fact that he had his own family now. And third with the fact she looked so much like him. Thick brown curls of hair on her head, big curious eyes that looked at him so adoringly. The tiny freckles and birthmarks scattered across her skin. She had some of your features, yes, but they were more subtle than his features.
Coupled with the fact that she was a bundle of energy and sass like him.
“I insist, pretty. Shinju needs her daddy too.”
He knew how much she made you tired with her habit for refusing to nap for more than an hour or two coupled with breastfeeding and the general responsibility and time that being a mom took. Dazai wanted to spend time with his daughter too and relieve your stress. You’d get sleep, he’d get to see Shinju. Win-win, in all accounts.
Hell, he even gave you puppy eyes in the darkness of your room.
“I…fine. But don’t wake me up if you screw up.”
Dramatically, he sighed and frowned, placing a hand on his heart.
“Does my ‘bella really think I’m an incompetent father? How heartbreaking and cruel of her!”
Much to his relief, you playfully groaned, pinching his sides lightly.
“I didn’t say that, dummy. God, I swear Shinju is more mature than you.”
Jesus, you were so insulting tonight. How was the baby that tried to put anything she could in her mouth more mature than him? Sure, he was a bit funny and childish, but he wasn’t a baby. Well, if he had his face buried in your boobs he’d be a baby. Still, it’s not his fault that they’re just so big and warm and squishy and seem to beg for his attention.
Which is what he soon did, resting his head on your chest while cupping them softly. You were wearing one of his shirts and a nursing bra underneath. He wished you weren’t wearing anything at all, but it wasn’t fair to ask for that when you recently gave birth just a mere two months ago. His libido lowered itself only for you. And when you did have sex—quickies when Shinju would nap—, he was so much nicer and loving than usual. The mother of his child didn’t deserve rough mean sex, no, she deserved gentle treatment under the sheets of their futon.
You deserved everything that he could possibly give you.
So when the small baby demon eventually began to wake up and whimper, he pressed a kiss onto your cheek and slowly got up, whistling a small tune under his breath before waking to the makeshift nursery nearby.
Opening the door slowly, he made his way to the crib and picked up his sniffling newborn, shushing her comfortingly.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Daddy’s here. We don’t want to wake up mama, okay?”
Her tiny hands balled up into fists, weakly moving around and occasionally hitting his chest. Sitting down on the rocking chair nearby, he fumbled around for one of her stuffed animals, grabbing the familiar bunny as he placed it in her arms.
“Look there, Shinju. It’s your bunny!”
From an authoritative Mafia executive to a tired loving father. Lord, Chuuya would be laughing his ass off. Or have that stupid face of confusion while he’d berate Dazai with questions about what unlucky woman had to bear his spawn. But what could that short alcoholic of a ginger say? No woman wanted to birth his babies.
He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when Shinju’s tiny fingers began to grab at his chest, thinking he could feed her too. He could, just not straight from the source unlike you. Standing up, he went over to the mini-fridge nearby which contained bottles of your milk. It wasn’t too chilly, and so he carried it and the cooing baby to the kitchen where he warmed it up in the microwave.
After it warmed up, he carefully began to feed her, leaning back against the counter as he did so.
It still felt so odd to him. Caring and loving someone he helped to create. His self from ten years ago would never believe it—that they’d find love and even have a baby after escaping the Mafia. He had you to thank for that. The one who picked up the discarded pieces of his soul and welded it into the man he is today—a father first, and a detective second.
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Kinda rushed the end but I couldn’t think of anything more :(
Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx
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fatuismooches · 1 year
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What are the Harbingers like when they’re jealous?
if i can't have you baby, no one else in this world can.
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Imagine the Harbingers when they're jealous.
Pierro is at the age where it’s simply too late to get immaturely jealous. He values independence and won’t meddle too much in your affairs. Of course, he’ll be there if anything serious or dangerous happens, but with his position, you’ll need to adjust to being apart for various lengths of time. Therefore, Pierro won’t be mad when you talk to others. In fact, he’ll encourage it considering how he doesn’t want you to feel too lonely. Though, he’ll advise you to stay away from certain Harbingers… Anyway, Pierro doesn’t exactly get jealous, but rather, sad. He’s happy to see you all lively and joyful with others, someone as bright and pure as you deserve it. After all, a sinner like him has no right to dictate who you should interact with or how you should feel. At the same time, Pierro can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrowfulness. Perhaps you would be more happy without him. Unintentionally becomes more distant from you and won’t say anything until you notice first. Please sit him down and explain to him how much you love and him you’ll never leave him for anyone. He’ll appreciate that a lot.
Dottore considers himself to be smart enough now not to fall for the jealousy trap. He’s lived for hundreds of years, obtained unspeakable and great knowledge, and is able to bring even Gods to his feet. There is no reason for him ever to feel a frivolous emotion such as jealousy. He’s confident in himself, and he’s confident in you. There is no one he’s been with longer than you, and he trusts you, to continue to be a constant in his life. Even if he does get jealous, it’ll probably be by his clones hogging you and even then he could send them off with a snap of his fingers. And well, I doubt anyone else would come up to you when there’s always a version of Dottore near you. Though, there are some clones from his younger years that you can easily tell when they’re jealous. It’s honestly a bit funny but nostalgic to see how different he is. You remember when he’d get all silent whenever you had to leave your shared dorm room in the Akademiya. (He didn’t want you mingling with those incompetent scholars because he feared for your intelligence, he claimed. You knew he was just jealous and lonely.)
Columbina is a bit surprised at her jealousy. She likes to take things easy and not too seriously, so the feeling of a stab of envy is new to her, but she welcomes it. Columbina believes that this is all part of the joy of relationships, discovering new emotions and things about each other, so she won’t take it too seriously. She’ll actually be happy that she feels for you so much, that she’s able to get jealous. It’s quite an accomplishment and milestone! Though if the person ever makes you uncomfortable, they’re next on her hit list. Columbina tends not to understand the concept of personal space sometimes, so she’ll just stroll up to you and hug you from behind, or rest her head on your shoulders, whatever she’s in the mood for, and just… smile. This usually is enough for the other person to back off and leave you alone. If you ask Columbina about her jealousy, she won’t hide or deny it, and instead hum and weave a pleasing string of words about how only a fool wouldn’t be possessive of you. Perhaps she’s more devilish than we give her credit for?
Capitano is the confused one. The feeling has been following him around all day, and he can’t seem to pinpoint where or when it started. You’re going to have to notice something is a bit off with your lover because he most likely won’t go to you first. Capitano has a bit of a problem with showing vulnerability. He’s expected to be the unmoving, sturdy, and dependable Captain at all times, so having to put his walls down can be quite hard sometimes. (Even while cuddling he can be really stiff which you have to keep telling him to relax.) Though after a bit of your usual pestering and refusing to let go of him, he relents. You’ve always been persistent in helping him show emotions despite kind of failing, so what would it hurt to tell you? You always seem to know things that he doesn’t. Though he finds himself a bit abashed after the realization hits you and you struggle to tell him through laughter that he’s simply jealous. Afterward, he finds it a bit embarrassing - a high-ranking Harbinger such as him being inflicted with something like that. But Capitano is still rather grateful for you teaching him more about this emotion and how to control it. Reassures you that it won’t happen again but it wasn’t like you were complaining, you teased. He prefers if you didn’t bring this up again because he doesn’t like thinking about his moments of weakness.
Scaramouche is pissed. Furious at some person for speaking to you like that, furious at you for making him feel this way, but most importantly furious at himself for succumbing to such a stupid and exhausting human emotion. His line of thought is something like this: How dare they try to act all buddy-buddy with you? And how dare you give them that sweet smile and laugh of yours, when that’s reserved for him only? The second someone looks at you the wrong way has him completely zoned in and aware of their actions, in case they try to pull something. In moments he’ll have them shivering and running away in tears, maybe a broken bone too if he’s especially pissed. Depending on his mood and how well you comfort him, they may live to see another day. If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll just shake his head and deflect the accusations, calling you an idiot instead (affectionately.) Will be closer and more touchy with you for the rest of the day.
The Wanderer, on the other hand, has grown to be more mature and less confrontational about it. He’s calmed down a bit from his Fatui years and admits that his way of dealing with things wasn’t the most optimal, and is doing his best to be a better lover for you. He now trusts you enough to be able to deal with things by yourself. Though, don’t think that he won’t spring into action. He’ll still stand close by, arms crossed and hat covering his expression, listening in. The moment the person says something a little too inappropriate or you start looking uncomfortable, he’s standing in front of you in a flash, glaring at the person. If they don’t get the hint, they’ll receive a personal berating from him. Teasing him for being jealous will result in him scoffing and walking away rather quickly, leaving you to run after him. 
Innocent Kabukimono doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this way! You’re just talking to a villager, someone he knows, and yet his chest is twisting and turning all painfully as he watches! A part of him just wants to go up to you and pull you away, but that wasn’t what good humans did, was it? So he just sulks and sulks with pouty cheeks, to the point Niwa is concerned for him. When Kabukimono explains what he’s feeling, he just laughs and pats him on the back, explaining the concept of jealousy, and advises the puppet to simply communicate with you about it. When Kabukimono does speak to you about it, fiddling with his veil and clothes shyly, you can’t help but coo at how cute he was being, and assure him that he’ll always be number one in your heart. When he asks for a few kisses for reassurance, you can’t help but agree.
Sandrone does not know what to do or make with this feeling. She is aware of what it is, but like, how should she go about dealing with it? She could just go up to you and drag you away, it would be quite easy for her to do that with the Automaton behind her and all. Or she could just let you be. You are quite different from her after all. You enjoy talking to other people and interacting with them, while she could care less. So Sandrone simply retreats to her little safe haven, her lab chock-fulled with her inventions and machines and then a specific section she made for little creations dedicated for you. And she works and works, well, more like tries to work but her head is steaming from how some random person can hog your attention like that. And she can no longer tolerate that. Eventually, if you don’t come back to her quick enough, she’s going to find you herself and take matters into her own hands, regardless of whatever conversation you’re having. Teasing her about it may result in one of her machines picking you up and dangling you above the floor. But she’s really just happy you’d choose her over anyone.
La Signora is another one who's quite confident in your relationship. I mean, she’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, you two were practically made for each other. So, whenever people talk to you, she can’t help but understand since you’re so alluring. But her favorite part is showing off to everyone that hah, too bad, you’re already taken by her. As if anyone else could ever be worthy of you, she thinks, pitying those poor fools who think they ever had a chance with you. And she will make this ideology absolutely clear to anyone and everyone. She’s so tall, she probably towers over the other person and gives them a look that definitely makes them feel like a pest. She has one hand tracing over your collarbones and the other stroking your hair while she looks at the other person dead in the eye as if daring them to say something. Of course, they don’t. Signora finds the whole ordeal more amusing than anything and will laugh with you if you bring it up. Oh darling, she tells you, it’ll take a lot more than that to truly upset her. However, although she enjoys watching the hope fall out of other people’s eyes, it does get tiring sometimes. Maybe you need more matching accessories? Would a hickey do?
Pantalone is well acquainted with the feeling of jealousy. He’s felt it since he was a child, envying others for what he could not have. And now he’s climbed up and up the ladder, to the point where everyone is jealous of him instead, not the other way around. He’d never have to feel that feeling again, as he had anything a man could ever dream of. Except… he’s jealous yet again. Not over material possessions or wealth, but you. But Pantalone hides his jealousy quite well, just like he does with his other emotions, under that smile of his. Other people won’t notice but… if you look closely you may see his smile is a bit strained. Pantalome keeps up the polite persona but may throw in a few snide comments. He keeps a firm arm around your waist and ushers you out of there rather quickly. You probably shouldn’t bring it up later. Pantalone sometimes fears he will be that same boy stuck in poverty and left with nothing again, although he never expresses it. He sometimes fears he will lose you too. Don’t say anything. Simply come up from behind and hug him. Pull off that huge jacket of his. Give him lots of kisses and finally one on the lips, telling him he never needs to worry about being separated from you.
Arlecchino looks emotionless as ever but the jealousy eats her up inside. It leaves a taste in her mouth that’s more bitter than her coffee. She’s the kind of person to do something about it as soon as she feels the feeling creeping up. Does not tolerate anything from anyone (besides you) so you can be sure that she’s going to put a stop to it right away. The thing about Arlecchino is that she doesn’t even need to say anything to scare the person off. Her aura can be so icy and intimidating, downright terrifying sometimes if she felt like it. Not to mention the contempt laced in her eyes could probably kill a man. So when Arlecchino gets jealous, she doesn’t remain like that for long because the problem is solved rather quickly. Plus, she doesn’t really see anything wrong with it. She just sees it as her protecting you from creeps. So if you tease her about it she won’t really be affected by that either. Arlecchino simply kisses you on the forehead and tells you to come to play with the children instead. (Though if you tell her you enjoyed seeing her jealous, she’ll get a teeny bit surprised. She didn’t think you actually liked seeing her like that because many view her as terrifying. You still think she’s so damn hot. And cute when she suddenly can’t make eye contact with you for a few seconds.)
Childe is quite confident and secure in his relationship with you. He cherishes you deeply, and his family loves you as well. You two may not have the most time together, but when you are, you spend it to the fullest. So when he feels the nag of jealousy rising, he’s a bit surprised but plays it off as nothing. It’s just that being away from you for so long has him a bit needy. Though, a teeny tiny part of him wonders if someone else would be better for you, someone that can offer you stability, that won’t leave you waiting for months to return. He would respect your decision… but he quickly ceases that line of thinking. He knows you love him, and he loves you even more, so there was no reason to be worried. Though he might get a bit competitive with the other person, trying to show off a little. And if the person’s making you uncomfortable… well, his passive aggressiveness and less-than-friendly smile are making an appearance. Also, you’ll probably notice he’s more insistent on treating you right. Always being a gentleman and not letting you lift a finger, showering you with all the love he can muster. Childe is always ready to do everything in his power to keep the title of best boyfriend for you. Please watch him cook and clean the dishes! Look, he’s drawing a bubble bath for you right now!
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spdrvyn · 4 months
Text
out and about: MIGUEL O'HARA
a short drabble about miguel making time to go on a shopping spree with you in a newly opened mall, however you can't help but feel a little shopper's guilt while he's there.
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it's been a busy last couple of months to say the least, miguel hadn't been on a proper date with you for a while. you said that you were doing just fine, but he always had a sixth sense about this.
besides, while he was tending to his job of being a multiversal protector, he's neglected his other (and arguably more important) job. being a supportive and present boyfriend.
he forced himself to clear his calendar, turned on DND mode on all of his devices for once, and got into something that wasn't a skin tight nanotech suit. you'd been overjoyed to discover that miguel had stayed home today, moreso when he told you to get ready because he'd be taking you to the mall to buy a couple of things.
a couple of things was an understatement.
whenever you kept your eyes too long on a certain shop, miguel would usher you in to look around a little. if you so much as touched an item, miguel would already be at the cashier and buying it for you. it went on like that for the entire trip.
bag upon bag hung onto miguel's arms, yet he didn't even seem to struggle. it was attractive, but made you all the more guilty because what if he wasn't actually enjoying this? sure, he brought some items along with you, but what if those purchases were to just spare your feelings?
not to mention that the mall was practically colossal in size. if you said that you wanted to go home, miguel would be thinking that he'd done something wrong. that would be even worse. to add on, you haven't even checked if this place had a book store and miguel knows well that you can't leave a mall without taking a peak which would make him even more suspicious.
you also had to stop at a cafe every now and again to let your throbbing legs rest from walking around the whole time, miguel probably had more weighing on his back. you despised the fact that you were stealing his precious time, you couldn't begin to imagine what could be happening back at his workplace without him. would those people manage to survive? would the multiverse survive?
after visiting the last shop of the day, you were relieved to finally have an excuse to tell him that you were tired and wanted to go back home. miguel understood that, but your silence the whole car ride back was deafening. he thought for sure that this would mean a lot to you, the mall felt tailored to your interests, you'd bought a lot.
why weren't you happy?
what did he do wrong?
you insisted on helping him bring the bags back in, which he indulged you to. after setting them all back into the flat, it was already dark. miguel assisted you in unboxing everything you bought, which you did with a sullen look on your face. especially when you were done, looking over all the unwrapped items, how your pile was so much bigger than his. it could bring you to tears. and it did.
as miguel wrapped an arm around you, he felt it. the slight shiver in your shoulders, the muffled hiccup, and the glossiness on your eyes. worry settled in his features, he pulled you closer to him. "hey, hey. what's wrong? you don't like the stuff i—"
you burst into a fit of sobs, face going red and eyes puffed. you desperately tried to wipe away the tears that streamed down, as you whimpered. "i love it, miguel! i love it so much, but- it's just–"
god, he hated seeing you like this. not because you looked ugly crying or because he found it annoying but because of his incompetence. he had one fucking job, way simpler than whatever he did at work. to make you happy, to make you content, this wasn't what he wanted.
"don't cry, please. i'm sorry, lo siento, por favor. baby, if there is anything else i can do for you, i'll do it."
"that's the thing! you've already done so much for me today, you're so– so nice, too nice, that- that i don't know how to give it back."
your crying had eased a little, miguel's face had softened. he's been trying compensate for how little he's been giving you, that's all, but he didn't think about how you are. maybe he's been too nice recently, but you're too nice all the time.
"you don't have to give anythig i do back, mi vida," he sighed as he moved his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing the fat of your cheek as your remaining tears smeared across the skin. "just you being here is enough, it's just that i've been— a little absent lately. i wanted to make it up to you."
"you didn't have to do that, miguel. just you being here is enough for me too." you sniffled. god, you were too adorable for him to take at times. he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the bridge of your nose, to each of your cheeks, then moving down to press one quickly to your lips.
"let's just do that then," he murmured, "be with each other. s'all i need, all i want." and you agreed. wholeheartedly so.
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dividers by across-the-art-verse
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victimsofyaoipoll · 7 months
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Finals
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Propaganda Under Cut
Sakura Haruno
Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.
My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 
What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.
Misa Amane
she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.
she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!
Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime
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starwrighter · 7 months
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Dude, get a restraining order
(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (Previous) (Next)
(Chappy #4)
The incompetence he bore witness to today rivaled that of which you’d see at an underfunded public school. This is a private school funded to the highest caliber! Damian hadn’t missed the dramatic increase in budget around the time Father enrolled him in the school. He’d been there when the press hounded him about it! The point was, that he knew for a fact that the school had the resources to accommodate a single transfer student!
With how poorly Daniel had been equipped to traverse the halls, one could only question if it were intentional. There was sure to be the inevitable mix-up with a student actually showing up for the transfer program. Usually, all they got was an announcement over the PA that all the potential transfers had not so politely declined the invitation. No rational parent would send their child to Gotham alone unless they were truly desperate, ignorant, or neglectful. 
Nothing could ever excuse what he’d seen today. You don’t hand a half-blind student a schedule with braille so radically different from the actual print by accident. It was a bat burger menu for gods sake! Someone had to have noticed when they handed it to him. In lieu of a recent spike of impairments involving vision and or hearing, every schedule had braille on it! Both sign language and braille had become their own optional after-school courses that upon completion, awarded a more than generous amount of extra credit. One didn’t even have to complete the course, all you had to do was pass multiple fluency tests, and then you were finished.
Most teachers knew either Braille or some form of sign language, and they all damn well would’ve known that the map was outdated! Fifty years outdated, you’d have to be a moron to hand that out by mistake. Though with what he was seeing now, he’s not quite sure the facility wasn’t primarily composed of scrambling idiots.
Mr. Rivers, ever the annoyance, had taken to only approaching Daniel from his blind side. It became more and more infuriating as class ticked by. The teacher shoved his body between the two of them, violating any semblance of personal space for the sole purpose of inconveniencing Daniel. Every time Mr. Rivers encroached on their personal space, Damian sharpened his pencil. Every time he made the other boy flinch, the idea of launching the pencil like one of his throwing knives became more and more appealing. No harm would’ve come to the teacher, the sight of a wooden pencil embedding itself in the wall mere inches away from his left eye would be more than enough to frighten the man. 
He’d face detention or possibly even suspension, but he’d take the punishment with pride. A smirk played on his lips as he tapped his pencil against his desk.
His smirk soon shifted into a scowl as yet another work packet was piled onto his desk. It was irritating, everything about this class was irritating. Daniel let out a dramatic groan beside him, the other boy slumping back in his chair. Worksheets were piled high on the boy's desk, some completed while most remained unfinished.
A ruler snapped down onto Daniel’s desk, a loud thwack! Startling the boy into sitting up straight.
“I guess I deserved that one,” Daniel shrugged.
“No you didn’t,” Damian replied flatly, but Daniel just shrugged it off. Most of the school facility were what most Gothamites would consider normal. Mr. River just had a generally detestable personality.
The man hated teenagers, often spewing complaints of their “rowdy behavior” and “lack of dedication,”. Damian might’ve agreed with those statements if it weren’t for the blatant lies in every word the man said. His classmates were…noisy and rather unpleasant for him to mingle with, but they were far from the “Lazy entitled brats” Mr. Rivers had painted them as. It’d be hypocritical for him of all people to judge the teacher based on being “mean” but the two of them couldn’t be farther apart.
 Damian was a hostile presence in the classroom, but he didn’t go out of his way to target and harass people for things they couldn’t control. People could choose to stay out of his personal space, and they could choose to not say dumb shit to his face. A mental or physical condition wasn’t something they could change, nor were they things that verbal and physical abuse would fix. This should've been common sense to anyone with two brain cells to strike together, but apparently, Darwinism had failed once again.
Mr. Rivers targeted Daniel based on his visual impairment. Every question was targeted at Daniel regardless if his had been raised or not. The man punctuated each sentence with a loud headache-inducing smack to his desk. He always struck on the boy’s blindside, never where he could see the ruler come down. Aside from the occasional flinch, Daniel took the abhorrent behavior in stride.
Concerning… It was one word he could use to describe Daniel's indifference. Completely unbothered, like this was just a typical Monday in class for him. Maybe his previous statement rang true, and he soulfully had experienced worse. That in itself was a concerning statement but made sense considering the context to that worse was engraved on his face. Everything the teacher did just seemed to roll off the other boy’s shoulders like water off a swan's back. A muttered comment of “his school counselor being worse than this teacher ever could be,” only serving to exasperate his concerns.
It was distracting… Every time Daniel gave him a reassuring smile, his heart pounded like hummingbird wings. Blood rushed to his cheeks, warming them like he’d just sat in front of a fireplace. As big of a deal as his siblings made of his apparent social ineptitude, Damian wasn’t an idiot.
How was he supposed to read people if he didn’t understand the emotions that drove their behavior? He’s a vigilante! He couldn’t be walking around uninformed about the basic spectrum of human emotion!
This was obviously what people would call a crush.
Grayson had been the one to attempt explaining crushes and relationships to him. It was a painfully awkward conversation to sit through. His brother spoke of love like a romcom, both cheesy and highly unrealistic. It was by sheer dumb luck Grayson had entered any form of relationship before, and a miracle any of them had lasted more than a week. Anyone with a dash of common sense could tell Grayson’s advice wasn’t a viable source of information. The number of times he’d been pulled aside by someone within earshot of conversation was enough for him to conclude his brother's brain was diluted by hallmark specials and fairytales.
Regardless of his elder brother's delusion, the conversation itself had been unnecessary. Romantic feelings had been explained to him from a very young age. From learning how these emotions could affect one's behavior to understanding not all people felt those feelings, and that was normal too. It was crucial for detective work to recognize the entire range of human emotions. 
Damian didn’t believe in love at first sight. He believed one could feel physical attraction for a person minutes or merely seconds after meeting, but love? How could you love someone you’ve only spent a minute with. Rushing in with that mindset was how you ended up courting someone you’d despise in the end. Outward appearances could tell you plenty about a person, but it wasn’t often you could read out someone’s entire character by reading their shirt. It could happen, but this wasn’t one of those cases.
He hadn’t even had a proper conversation with his seatmate yet. Rushing in at the first sign of attraction was an idiotic way to hurt himself emotionally. He’d need to tread through this carefully, learn more about Daniel, and proceed accordingly with the information he received. 
Glancing up at the clock, he scowled. Students discreetly packed their bags, fidgeting in their seats as they waited for the bell. Nobody liked being in Mr. Rivers's class. He was the type of teacher to pile a month's worth of homework onto any student unfortunate enough to have gotten their work done in a timely matter. Needless to say, Damian found himself with a thick stack of worksheets on his desk every class. Maybe if he were a little less spiteful, he would slack and draw out the original worksheet like everyone else did, but that would imply Mr. Rivers had gotten under his skin. 
Daniel tapped a thick stack of papers on his desk. His name scrawled shakily in graphite on each sheet. Much to his surprise, Daniel had completed every single worksheet their teacher had thrown at him. How he’d managed to do so in such a short amount of time was a mystery, but Damian was delighted nonetheless. 
The boy grinned, pride and a dash of spite written clear on his face. Damian had watched, enraptured at the subtle wilting of Mr.River’s face with every sheet he completed. The teacher had been far too dull to print out random worksheets for Daniel like he had with Damian. No, every single one of those pages was a part of the required curriculum assigned to transfer students. Work required to be graded and submitted no more than a week after submission. 
“Impressive,” Damian commented.
Daniel beamed, foxlike and giddy as he neatened the pile of paper. 
“If all that doesn’t go in the grade book, I’m starting a riot,” Daniel muttered. Damian didn’t doubt him. Tomorrow, Daniel would likely be piled with the same worksheets Damian was stuck with, papers that weren’t graded outside the original worksheet. 
“I’ll join you,” Planning a riot together would be the perfect activity for him to get to know Daniel more. One's true self tended to be clearer in times of war. 
“Hell yeah! Nothing like a less than peaceful protest to bring people together,” Daniel laughed, the bell rang and Daniel’s expression shifted to one of dread.
“I can walk you to your next class if you’d like,” He offered.
"That would be helpful,” A nervous but exasperated smile had wormed it’s way onto Daniel’s face, the other boy subconsciously running a hand through locks of black hair. "I don't think my map would've been all that helpful," He laughed.
Damian inspected their schedules. They shared lunch and a fourth-hour history class, but that was it. Daniel had earth science third hour while he had an art class. A disappointment, but an expected one. 
“Since you don’t have a valid map, I’ll come to pick you up around lunchtime,” He proclaimed as they rounded the corner.
“Sounds good,” With that they parted ways, Daniel giving him a quick wave paired with a smile that made his heart thrum before he stepped into the classroom.
With a sigh, Damian headed down to the first floor. Vibrant paintings and impossibly detailed pencil drawings lined the halls surrounding the art rooms. A giant mural around twelve feet across was the art students' prized project. Massive mountains and towering trees for everyone to see. An outdoor landscape painted with warm colors shifted to the cold colors of city skyscrapers and roads dimly illuminated by street lights. The mural itself took up almost the entire hallway. Not an inch of the remaining space remained bare. Overall, the first floor had more color than all the other floors combined.
Stepping into class, the smell of paint filled his nostrils. Watercolor stained the wooden tables, cracking paint and charcoal smears scattered across the workspace. Conversations from the previous classes were scrawled onto tables. A collaborative drawing between several students having been scribbled over with a conglomerate of charcoal and colored pencils.
The seats were the only part of the table that was mostly bare. Only a few pencil scribbles and scratches. Too many students' uniforms had been stained with dusty patches of charcoal and paint before drawing on the chairs was prohibited, and tarps were placed over them. 
Art was the one class students were mostly left to their own devices. Given full access to the entire range of supplies, with a vague instruction of showing off their progress at the end of class. A giant bookshelf was set up next to a metal wire shelf carrying baskets of various types of paper. The bookshelf was filled to the brim with any and all books art-related. From beginner to expert, sculpting to painting, realism to cartoonism, a book was there to teach you about it. It was against the rules to draw inside any of the books, but post-it notes were stuck to every page of every book. 
Students filtered in like blood slowly oozing from a paper cut. Quiet chatter filled the room, their teacher sitting calmly at his desk. Damian sat with his new sketchbook, staring daggers at the plethora of empty pages. Sounds of cabinets opening and paintbrushes clinking against glass mugs were his background noise. Pencils scratched against paper, soft searching lines filling a blank page, slowly shaping Daniels's features.
From his sharpened canines to the dimples on his cheeks. To the messy way he swept his hair to the side to the light freckles dusted across his face. Drawing Daniel’s scarring proved to be quite difficult. Intricate branches of scar tissue never seemed to look right when he had them on paper, and it frustrated him to no end. When he finally got it right, he could’ve collapsed right there. It was far from the perfection he was aiming for, but he’d have a reference photo by the end of the day to solve that plight. 
This drawing would be more than enough if Daniel turned out to be an… unpleasant individual.
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simon-sehs · 2 months
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suffer (18+)
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tags / cw: f!reader, fluff, angst, smut, hatefucking, injury mention, dirty talk, insults, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, pathetic!simon, love confession, happy ending
To this day, you still couldn’t fathom what Ghost’s issue with you was. Granted, he was a weird and mysterious man to begin with, so making sense of his thoughts and feelings seemed daunting when there were bigger concerns.
At least, that’s what you told yourself. It didn’t stop the fact that despite the glares and insults, he often graced your bed.
Or you in his.
You were at least glad he was a gracious lover. Maybe it was an ego or superiority thing; after all, if you’re going to fuck the brains of someone you dislike, you may as well make them see stars and ruin them for anyone else.
Unfortunately, he also loved the sound of his own voice.
“Aww, look at you, sergeant. So desperate and needy for me…”
His dick slipped into your cunt with ease, much to your embarrassment. This, of course, would not go unnoticed, or unspoken.
“That’s right… take me in, doll…” He chuckled. “Must suck, feeling how well that pretty pussy molds around me. Like it was made specifically for me…”
“Jesus, shut up and fuck me already.”
“What’s wrong, love?” He slowly moved inside you, his pace gradually building to make you crave more with each second. “I hit a nerve? You gonna throw a tantrum, slap me around?” He smirked.
“Ugh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Freak.” You moaned and felt yourself clenching around him at the thought, despite your insult.
Ghost’s grip on your thighs tightened. “Maybe. Or maybe I just feel like giving you a free pass. God knows your… aw, fuck… hand-to-hand is abysmal. Couldn’t kick my ass to save your life…”
You grit your teeth. “I don’t need to beat your ass. All I need is a few good hits to make you hurt for a while.”
"Hah, you really think you can hurt me… when I've literally taken a bullet for the both of us?" He said bitterly.
You tensed. “Huh? What… mmm… the hell are you on about?”
“Don’t play dumb, you’re too pretty for that.”
You just stared at him.
Slowly, he stopped and stared down at you. “…Are you… serious?”
You blinked up at him.
His face gradually softened, before he let out a sigh. “You don’t know, do you?”
It was your turn to sigh. “Know what?”
He leaned back, despite still being inside you. “That mission we had together, where we were supposed to bring the target in alive… I took a bullet for you after you got knocked out.” His hand traced a scar on his shoulder. “It was either let you die… or let the target escape.”
You stared at him, speechless. “No, you… I… no… no one told me….”
“You were pissed about the target getting away, I… thought you knew. I don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw.
“What? No! I… you’re lying. You’re trying to make this my fault when it was your incompetence that resulted in him getting away…” You said, but with each word that came out, you could feel your resolve crumbling, as pieces clicked into place.
He glared. “You think I care if you believe me? You couldn’t possibly understand why I did what I did.”
“Try me.”
He pulled out of you with a grunt, and you had to resist the urge to whimper at the loss.
“You don’t want to know.”
You were getting pissed. “Quit fucking around, Simon, tell me.”
He growled. Honest to god, growled. “Fuckin’ hell, because I love you.”
Your eyes widened. He stared.
Seconds ticked by. The two of you were stuck in a staring contest.
You relented and glanced away, frowning. But then a gentle touch of his fingers on your chin brought your face back to gaze at his. More staring.
“Christ, say something, you daft girl.”
“Shut up.” You snapped. “I don’t believe you. You’re messing with me.”
“I have better things to do than lie about this shit. Stuffing your cunt, for example.”
“Why do you act like you hate me then?”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “I… because it’s easier to push you away than face the fact that I… Look, it’s to protect the both of us.”
“And yet you’re somehow in my bed.”
“…Yeah.” His fingers remained on your chin. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way and I’ll go. Hell, I’ll leave you alone, even.”
You swallowed, your heart pounding viciously in your chest. “I… I can’t.” You croaked.
Ghost’s face falls. “No… fuck, no…”
“I… I love—“
“Don’t. Don’t fuckin’ say it. Fuck. You’re not supposed to… we can’t. Don’t you get it? We can’t.”
Your eyes started to blur with tears. “Simon… I love you.”
He glanced away, his chest heaving. “Fuck…”
Now you found yourself turning his face to yours, your hand soft on his cheek. Your heart tore at the sight of his own glossy eyes.
“I love you.” You repeated.
He crumbled.
His face sunk into your neck, and he wept.
You froze up, unsure of what to do. But then you found your arms wrapping around him tightly as his tears dotted your sweaty skin.
“I love you…” You say again, softly.
He mumbled something incoherent into your skin.
“Huh?”
Ghost pulled back slightly. “I said, we’re both fuckin’ idiots.”
“Simon… kiss me…”
He stared at you with pathetic puppy eyes, before leaning in and kissing you. It was different, this time. It wasn’t like the previous kisses. The heat was still there, but there was intimacy, longing, love.
You pulled back to moan as he buried himself back inside your aching hole.
His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to his chest as if you were at risk of being pulled away from him. Then, he buried his nose back into your neck.
“Fuck… Love you… so much… fuck…”
Ghost pumped into you slowly but deliberately, each stroke a token of his affection.
You could feel a tear of your own running down your cheek. “My Simon… my love…”
He groaned at that, twitching inside you. “Be mine. Only mine. Please. Please…”
“I’m y-yours. Always have been…”
“Fffuck… prove it… come for me, baby…”
You whimpered as his hips slowly met yours over and over again, his pelvis grinding against your clit. “Yes, baby, yes…”
He breathed heavily against your throat. “Say that again. Call me ‘baby’ again…”
“Baby…”
And then you came, fluttering around his cock as his arms tightened around you.
“Fuck… fuck…” He mumbled.
It took four more strokes for him to follow suit, his body shaking slightly on top of you. You had never seen him in such a state before.
Then the room was silent, except for your ragged breaths.
As the both of you laid there, you reached a hand out to tentatively trace the scar on his shoulder. Ghost snuggled into you further.
“I’m yours… never forget that…” He murmured.
“Or… what… you’ll get… shot again?” You smirk.
He sighed. “I was thinking… more along the lines of… making love to you again… to remind you, but… sure… Why not…?”
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thevillainswhore · 10 months
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Tension
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Pairing: Massage Therapist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Summary: You’re devastated when your usual massage therapist becomes unavailable at the last minute, but an unexpected trainee is more than happy to handle you.
Warnings: Smut (fing-ering fem receiving, mentions of a-nal play, m-asturbation male receiving)
A/N: Unbeta’d, dividers by saradika and firefly-graphics - also a massive thank you to my babe @rookthorne for helping me edit my header, loves you bitch 💗
Listen, just please use your imaginations with the oil, let’s pretend it’s safe and can be used for… things 👀 okay thank you, enjoy x
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Resting your head against the back of the waiting room leather chair, you await your appointment at your regular spa. Headache already starting to disappear from the eucalyptus aroma of incense seaping into your skin.
You needed this. The long work week draining you of all common sense to not hit your coworkers over their heads every two seconds, due to their incompetence. Now, it has finally come to a close, and you could take the opportunity to indulge in your guilty pleasure.
This was the only way you could continue to keep your head above water. A monthly treat to yourself of a two hour long full body massage - undisturbed peace and soft hands kneading the stress out of your body until it felt like you were floating.
And it was literally heaven on earth to let go of the strong willed nature that came with your work, placing your care into the hands of someone else. Giving up your responsibilities of taking charge and allowing another to take care of you for a little while.
It felt so good to let go. Forgetting all of your worries that seemed silly in the midst of the background waterfall noises that lulled you into calmness.
Jesus, you weren’t even on the massage table yet and you already felt so much lighter.
With that thought, the lovely receptionist, you’ve become familiar with from your numerous visits, walks out from the back room and addresses you with an apologetic expression.
“Miss, I’m so terribly sorry about this, but an unexpected personal emergency has come up for your regular therapist and she’s had to leave before your treatment today.”
Your face drops. The excited anticipation bubbling inside you from at last being able to relax, dying out instantly at her words.
Of course it wasn’t your therapist’s fault that you would miss out on the only pass time that gets you through the month. Of course, it wasn’t her fault you’d probably go home and scream into your pillow. Yet, you couldn’t help your internal frustration at the disappointing outcome.
It didn’t help that you hadn't had an orgasm for god knows how long too. The band inside was you on the verge of snapping. A massage being the only way to soothe the built up tension over the month and you feared you would have a mental breakdown from the added stress.
“Listen, I wouldn’t normally suggest this,” she goes on to explain as you lift your head with intrigue, “but we have a new massage therapist in training, free for your time slot. His clientele base is still quite small. However, he’s received great reviews and he’s happy to cover your treatment today - if that’s something you would consider. Would you like to meet him before coming to a decision?”
Fuck it. It’s either this or try to relieve yourself with your shitty vibrator at home that’ll probably die out before you can finish anyway. And you really didn’t want to make the dent in your bedroom wall any bigger from the other times you’d thrown the useless thing at it.
So, what harm could it do?
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After agreeing to an introduction with the trainee, telling yourself you should at least see if you feel comfortable enough with him, you stand outside the private massage room, waiting to be invited in.
Eventually hearing a breathy shout of “Come in!”, the receptionist opens the door and allows you to step through, the seemingly young man’s back turned towards you as he fiddles with last minute preparations for your massage.
“Just tryna get everythin’ ready for ya, won’ be a minute.”
After finishing up and a final appraisal to the set up, the trainee spins on his fit, claps his hands together and looks at you directly, “Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’! The name's James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, sweetheart, I’ll be lookin’ after’ya today.”
Holy shit, where the hell did they find this one?
Bucky’s mid length chocolate hair ran rogue with an errand piece falling into his eyes. It took all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear, or maybe even scratch your nails through his hair just to grip it and tug to see if he whimpers.
Woah, settle down girl.
A tight white womens beater, stretched across his pecs, showcased his bulging arms and the pure muscle you couldn’t tear your eyes from. You were pretty sure you were drooling, but you couldn’t give a single fuck right now.
If you had to guess, you would have pinned him as a farmhand or a ranch owner from down south before he became a trainee massage therapist - it definitely would have explained his devilishly built form and his southern twang that has your knees weak.
That’s not the only reason I want my legs to be shaking.
It most definitely isn’t difficult to imagine Bucky with a cowboy hat sitting on his head, thick thighs clenching to keep himself steady riding a horse. Or how easy it is to picture him throwing stacks of hay over his shoulders, dirt covering his sweat glistened body as his pure strength gives him no trouble carrying them to the stables.
You don't even realise you still haven’t spoken a word, stood dumbstruck with your mouth gaping open and lost in your unholy thoughts about the living wet dream about to rub you up, completely forgetting another person was in the room with you.
The receptionist speaks up, “Are you comfortable with James stepping in-“
“Yes!”. Your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment from how quickly you answered, clearing your throat and steeling yourself not to continue making an idiot of yourself. “Um- yes of course, yes… not a problem at all.”
You miss Bucky’s sly little smirk as you make the effort to keep your gaze towards the floor, his tongue peaking out and wetting his lips as he gives you a once over.
Things were about to get interesting.
“So sweetheart, I’m gonna step out while you get changed, take all clothin’ off, start off with lyin’ on’ya stomach for me and cover y’lower half with a towel - I’m sure y’know the drill by now.”
Reverting your attention back onto him, your pulse quickens at his nonchalant conversing of stripping naked. Okay, it was standard procedure for the therapist to go over protocol, but that talk from him is sinfully criminal.
Walking up to the door, Bucky suddenly turns around, “Oh and don’t forget to take off the underwear too, darlin’, be back in a tick.” Bucky winks and slaps the doorframe, finally leaving the room.
Fuck my life.
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You have a couple of minutes to compose yourself before Bucky comes back. Changing out of your clothes was almost a relief - sweat clinging to your skin from meeting him and that freaking accent that drove your mind wild. Your panties seemed to agree too, considering the sticky mess that clung to your folds as you pulled them down your legs.
As you now lay face down on the table, folded towel covering your ass - back and legs on display - you anxiously wait for Bucky’s arrival, muscles subtly twitching from either your stress or the need to get fucked.
Probably both.
The door opens to your only knowledge of hearing, sight only focused on the floor from the carved head cushion allowing your face to sit through it. Goosebumps raise on your arms as you listen to the door then quietly close and footsteps get closer towards your direction.
You hold your breath when you see boots stop into your peripheral and legs bend to show a pair of thick thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.
Yep, definitely Bucky.
Lifting your head slightly to look at his face when he doesn’t speak, you choke on your spit when you find him shirtless, stomach marveled with so many abs. You would count, but you’re a little afraid you’ve lost brain cells from his presence alone. And all hope is gone when you see his jeans strung low on his waist - ‘v’ line tantalising your dignity as you wonder how morally wrong it could be to drop to your knees and lick it.
You’re not proud to say you don’t take anything he says in as Bucky begins going through what’s to be expected for your treatment. Ever the professional as you think he probably tells you what to do should you like any adjustments made with his pressure or technique. Luckily, you seem to have gotten away with it as he stands and picks up some oil, tilting your head back down to do some breathing exercises.
“Jus’ the massage today then, sweets? Y’know I wouldn’t mind throwin’ a free facial in there for y’too with the trouble y’had.”
What the fuck?
Your brain short circuits. Surely he must hear what he’s saying out loud… right?
Inwardly shaking your head, you put it down to the lack of intimacy you had gotten recently, mind conjuring illicit fantasies and turning everything he says into something dirty.
You stutter to reply, “N-no, that’s o-okay, just the massage i-is fine.”
The small smile on Bucky’s face is so innocent, like he hasn’t just rebooted your entire being. “Alrightie then darlin’, lemme get started then.”
Guess them breathing exercises went to shit.
Bucky begins slicking his hands up with the massage oil, lathering between his fingers and ensuring all crevices are glistening - especially his veins that bulge all the way up his forearm.
“I’m warnin’ y’though, I’m quite good with my hands.”
You don’t have time to stop yourself blurting the next automatic thought in your head out into the open.
“I bet you are.”
If you could slap yourself you would. Cringing in despair at your ability to make yourself look stupid. You expect things to turn awkward, for Bucky to show unease and even stop the session altogether.
To your surprise, you feel a whisper of a breath caress your neck as he mumbles the very thing to probably cause your death.
“Oh, you have no idea, darlin’.”
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The start of the massage truly had your nerves settling down and calming you enough to actually enjoy yourself. Yeah, you still struggled with keeping your cool with Bucky’s huge hands caressing you with his sensual touch, but you managed to stop your squirming and relax.
Bucky however, couldn’t keep a straight head for the life of him. Softness of your skin and the feel of your curves literally in the palms of his hands had his cock threatening to bust the zipper of his jeans.
Timid little thing you were, so skittish when you saw him and he just had to have a little fun with you. That soon backfired on him the second he got a hold of you. Fingers itching to just smooth down your luscious body and open you up like his own personal present.
Unfortunately, he had to make do with rubbing his erection against the edge of the massage table to give him some relief. You were just so sexy - a stunning face and an amazing figure - never mind how fucking adorably shy you were.
Just my type and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a piece’a ya, sweetheart.
Was it wrong for him to be thinking of a client this way? Of course. Would Bucky most definitely get fired before he’s even completed his training should anyone find out? No doubt about it. Was that going to change his mind over what he was about to do next?
Absolutely fucking not.
You had succeeded in keeping your moans and whimpers locked away when Bucky reached particularly sensitive spots on your back. No, not the ones that felt a little too tender, the places his touch elicited your growing desire - as much as you tried to hide it, he could still hear your little intakes of breaths.
But that’s not what I’m after sweetie, I wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.
So, he comes up with a plan.
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“Oh darlin’, I can feel all those knots in y’upper back, been workin’ so hard ain’t ya, sweets?”
Fuck, you really had. And Bucky’s praise paired with his seductive voice makes you feel all gooey with neediness, trying to stop yourself sinking into your fuzzy headspace as you reply back. “Y-yeah, I mean I guess so.”
“How ‘bout we try somethin’ different, hm?” Bucky begins to explain, “Reckon if we got y’to bend them legs into a kneelin’ position then it’d feel so much better.”
The sincerity of his voice has you rethinking your suspicions towards how exposed you might be. You still had the towel to cover anything private and while your old therapist never suggested anything like this, Bucky may have learned something new and wanted to try it out.
So you begin to do as he’s asked. “Um, l-like this?”
“Tha’s it, arch that back for me, sweetie.” Again, you follow his instructions all too easily. “Little more for me- there ya go, jus’ like that.”
Bucky can’t help the groan that slips out as he observes the thin towel curve over the shape of your ass. You’re not much higher from the first position you were in, but the subtle lift in your legs, and bowed back allows a perfect image for him.
And a perfect chance.
“Gonna work on y’legs now, sweetheart, lemme know if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ good.”
You don’t have a chance to reply as Bucky begins to knead the muscles in your legs. An unrestrained moan escaping from your lips as he uses his thumbs to work the tension out. You feel as though you've been transported to another world, eyes rolling to the back of your head in glorious pleasure.
Meanwhile, Bucky is having the time of his life watching the jiggle of your ass every time he switches up the motion of his strokes. You don’t seem to notice the towel slowly shifting upwards, revealing the bottom of your ass cheeks to him.
He just needs your legs to spread that tiny bit more so he can see your pretty little pussy.
“That feelin’ good for ya, darlin’?”
Apparently, you let go of all inhibitions from the satisfaction Bucky’s hands bring you, all but unbashfully moaning, “Mhmm, god yes Bucky, feels so fuckin’ good.”
That’s what I love to hear.
“Amazin’. Doin’ so great for me sweetheart, jus’ let ya’self relax and Bucky will take care a ya.”
The dip of your back deepens as you unknowingly start to bring your legs more under you, ass canting up like a cat as Bucky’s thumbs rub close to the crevice under your ass cheeks.
He’s so dangerously close to his prize, he can literally see the wetness that’s spilled from your cunt, coating your inner thighs.
Fuck it.
Bracing for the worst, Bucky’s thumb runs over your pussy lips and your breath hitches as the bolt of electricity that shoots through your body. Now fully aware of his intentions, you expect yourself to feel a slither of outrage, some kind of anger at him for letting it go this far and yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to stop him.
Bucky pauses his thumbs in question, waiting to back off as soon as you deny him and allowing you the freedom of consent.
But, you want this.
The fact he stops his ministrations within an inch of your cunt has you unable to hold back your loud whine, ass pushing back into his hold to try and get him to carry on.
As much as Bucky loves your enthusiasm and he’s almost certain you want this as much as he does, he needs to hear your verbal consent in order for him to proceed. “Ah ah, sweet girl, need to know y’want this, need to hear y’say it.”
With great difficulty, fog clouding your head, you manage to mumble a whimper of agreement. “Fuck, y-yes pleaseee Bucky, give it to me.”
And that’s all the confirmation he needs.
Bucky places both thumbs on each cheek and spreads them apart to reveal your pretty, slick pussy, hole pulsing, almost begging to be filled.
You whimper as you feel his long pointer finger slide through the mess you’ve made and teasingly give your throbbing clit a little tap for good measure.
The little shit even has the audacity to chuckle at your desperation.
“Look at ya darlin’, such a fuckin’ good girl for me, ya think we can get y’a little more wet, hm?”.
He laughs at your stutter, no worries for him though, he can’t wait to make sure he leaves your head empty enough for not one single thought to cross your mind.
Bucky gently slaps your leg and bends over you to whisper in your ear, “turn around, pretty girl.”
The last defence of the towel covering your modesty falls from your body as you quickly move to lie on your back, too fucked out to even notice the breeze that hardens your nipples and exposes your tits to Bucky’s gaze.
He could’ve just picked you up and fucked you against the wall right then and there. But Bucky’s a patient man, and he’s not about to put his pleasure before yours. He wants this to last.
Straddling the table as he combs his wild hair back, Bucky grabs your thighs over his forearms with feral need to drag you down towards him, placing your legs over each of his and separating them. This was his personal slice of heaven.
The view of your cunt and the bounce of your tits has him gripping his cock over his jeans, shaky breaths rattling his chest over how turned on he is from the sight - you really were a goddess, a doll for him to play with until you couldn’t walk.
Releasing himself and grabbing the bottle of oil from the table next to him, Bucky looks directly into your eyes, his own hooded as he unscrews the lid. Your high pitched moans and whimpers have his nerves set alight and he can’t wait to see your face as you cum from his fingers alone.
“Buck-Bucky, what a-are you d-doing?”. It takes everything in you to lift yourself on to your elbows, looking down to see him hovering the bottle over your pussy.
“Y’trust me, sweet girl?”. Fuck, with that voice alone you’d put your whole faith in him.
You gently nod as you never take your eyes away from his, that wicked smirk adorning his face as his eyes light up from your answer.
“Good.”
That’s the last thing you hear before you feel the cold splash of oil drip against your pussy and your shocked moan fills the room as your arms give out.
The liquid rolls down your folds, down to your puckered hole and the thought quickly surpasses Bucky of what your reaction would be if he suggested a little anal play.
First things first, Barnes.
Right.
After emptying the remainder of the oil over you, Bucky tosses the bottle onto the floor, and begins to run his fingers over your cunt, shining in all its pleasurable glory. Trailing down to your hole, Bucky begins to press one finger inside you, stopping at the first knuckle only to take it back out and repeat his torturous teasing.
You can’t help your squirming - hands fisted tight in your hair as your toes curl. The relief of a second finger added to the first only lasts for a minute as again, he torments you by going no further than his first knuckles. All you want is for him to slide his fingers as deep as they can go, but Bucky is far too mesmerised with the glisten of his fingers and the feel of your fluttering little pussy.
“W-want more, baby, p-please Bucky, need more.”
The term of endearment as his feasted eyes snap up to look at you, has his cock twitching - you looked so fucking beautiful like this for him and the pleading in your features has him going soft on you.
Always was a sucker for pretty girls begging.
“Need more, sweetheart? Alright pretty girl, y’can have some more.”
You soon figure how Bucky was holding out on you as he fucks you with his two fingers at a quickened pace, the squelch of mixed juices from your cunt loud to your ears and you’d be embarrassed if Bucky didn’t enjoy it.
And he really did, the sound of your arousal leaking out of you because of him leaves him feeling untamed, beastly, as his veins bulge from his arms. His cock is aching, hard from how much he gets off on your pleasure - he knows he can make it better for you, though. He won’t be happy until you lose your voice because of him.
Slowing down, his deep rumble has the knot in your stomach tightening even more, “Think y’can handle another, sweetie? ‘Cause I think y’can, think this wet pussy needs to be filled up till she can’t take no more.”
With that, Bucky eases a third finger along with his other, the stretch just right to have you wailing out with consistent cries of his name.
Curling his fingers against your upper wall, Bucky searches for that spongey rough patch - he wants you to see stars and he isn’t giving up till you do.
“Hold on a sec sweets, lemme just-, find… oh, there it is.”
All of a sudden your back shoots off the table and your scream of pleasure drowns out the sounds of waterfalls in the background.
“Fuck!”
“Tha’s right darlin’, lemme hear y’scream for me.”
You grip his wrist to keep his hand fucking you, his perfect rhythm too good for you to speak something tangible. But you can’t have him changing anything, you need him to keep everything the same, so you can finish.
Bucky still finds it so fucking hot, sweat from exertion gathering on his neck and dripping down his chest. He couldn’t care less, he just wants to see you cum.
He physically has to use his free arm to force your legs open, it won’t do that you’re trying so desperately to close your legs around him. No. He wants to see you tremble in his hold. He’s fucking craving it.
“C’mon baby, know y’so close sweet girl.”
You are so fucking close, so near to that orgasm you haven’t had in so long - you’ve turned dumb, world blurring around you, only important thing in your mind getting to finish.
And you’re done for as soon as Bucky places his thumb on your swollen clit and circles.
“BUCKY!”
He watches as your shrieks fall from your mouth. Tremors rack through your body, legs finally able to close around his hand as tears from the intensity roll down your temples. You’re in your element and he’s never seen sexier in his entire life.
White cream drips from your pussy as Bucky slowly takes his fingers out, not able to help himself as he plays with your folds and starts to fuck your cum back into you.
Soon enough, you begin to calm down, heavy breathing with your occasional whine of overstimulation from his motions blessing his ears.
He leans down to pepper kisses over your heaving stomach and underneath your breasts, other hand stroking over your heated skin and up to your cheek.
“Easy girl, that’s it, deep breaths.”
Bucky continues to talk you down and strokes your sweaty hair back from your face, your eyes closed and mouth open, panting.
He stops his ministrations altogether, but keeps his fingers inside you, his body connected over yours to settle some of his weight on you and bring you back down to earth.
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Giving you a couple of minutes to come down from your fluffy clouds, Bucky analyses all your signals to make sure you’re okay and that you feel safe - and once he completes all his internal checks, he flashes you a dazzling smile.
“So… this may be a bit forward a’me, but what d’ya say I take y’out on a date tomorrow night?”
You chuckle breathlessly at his little joke - as if he didn’t already have his fingers still in your cunt. “Only if you answer my question.” you counter back.
“Sure thing, lil’ darlin’.”
Trying to keep your expression aloof you ask, “What did you do before you started training to be a massage therapist?”
He looks like a little confused puppy as he cocks his head and frowns, but answers anyway with a cheeky squint of his eyes.
“I used to work on my mama’s ranch back home, sweetheart.”
Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as Bucky begins picking up the steady pace of his fingers again, fucked out smile on your face in rememberance to your guesses from earlier.
Fucking knew it.
He may not have the slightest clue what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t have to know as long as he’s the one who’s making you smile like that.
And, he already can’t wait for your next meeting as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his zipper to bring his dick out and start fucking his fist while he enjoys the sight of his other hand fucking your cunt.
“Now, we got another hour to make sure ya get what y’paid for darlin’, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”
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A/N: who doesn’t love a happy ending, right? 😈
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satoruhour · 8 months
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🪻ugh your drabble about sore reader reminded of this one hc I think of so much that it’s embarrassing. Imagine gojo getting on sorcerer!reader’s nerves to the point that she and utahime almost have an anti-gojo hate club, and one time while bantering with him she jokes about his size or how he’s so self centred he probably can’t even make a woman cum.
Satoru only says “wanna see what I’m all about?” and safe to say she gets dicked down like there’s no tomorrow. Throughout the night he also makes fun of her for being all talk in the beginning but cumming so easily, makes her beg for it, will never let her live it down. Next day Utahime’s real pissed she lost her club’s vice chairperson.
My kitty isn’t even purring atp she’s meowing loud and crystal clear. Satoru who’s smug and a big tease in bed is so unbelievably sexy to me
a/n: discussions of incompetent dick game LMAO, oral f! receiving, fingering, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple rounds
OHHHH MY GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ACTUALLY HYACINTH ANON sorry i took so long to get to this sobs. yes yesyes id like to think sorcerer was with them before but left the scene like nanami and never truly kept in touch with the students at tokyo high. id also like to think this happens before the actual series starts (ages 24 - 25) bc gojo might still be honing his technique and theres still that playful banter at that age. god and they have a school reunion and he does some annoying crap dude.... utahime is DEFINITELY debriefing with you after that whole thing. shes by your side the whole night recalling on the stupid shit gojo did as a hs kid, when he collapsed that mansion without putting up the veil. you had to calm her down LMFAO
but at the reunion there was alcohol and you both get hiiiiigh and all things get 18+ almost immediately, talking about how gojo def cant find the clit and he fingers women wrongly and cant make any use of his dick thats probs small 😭😭😭 which is like ... you also have an inkling that he might not be that small because he is .... 2 metres tall but ya never know with how cocky gojo is. and that inkling is gone instantly when u hear him talk cause his voice is so ANNOYING and dripping with cockiness. he also has that certain lilt in his voice that you realise he uses only with you, overly teasing and silky smooth and u hate how you notice that
gojo is fucked up as well, u know he doesnt hold his liqour well but hes sober enough to ask “wanna see what im all about?” and you especially hate how you look around to see where hime is at and when u just catch a glimpse of her heading into the bathroom, youre nodding slowly and you do nooooot know what youre getting urself into !
needless to say, gojo is already getting u so hot and bothered just from a simple kiss. he warped you two back to your apartment (bc he rather die than get found out by megs and tsumiki), which he has been to before !!!!! gods even the tension back then was so palpable but gojo was in a vulnerable place with geto and everything and didnt want to do anything that would hurt his heart more. you two make out for A WHILLLEEEE and if ure wondering if hes alr so good at kissing, what else is he good at ....?
youre proven wrong time and time again when gojo goes striaght for your clit, rubbing slow circles and he has u begging for more, more something just mere rubs. gojo has the gall to lick a stripe up your soaked panties and sucks a little at your clit and god he is LOVING the way all your previous insults about him fall short of your lips and doesnt have the same punch: “still doesnt prove your dick’s b-big—” gojo lips your panties to the side and eats you out. he eats. you. out. to prove a point but also he falls in love with your pussy, slobbering all over it and shit. “didnt tell my your pussy was so good, baby.” “cat got your tongue? do i live up to your standards?”
you realise hes cocky for a reason and that his tongue game is fucking insane. the same goes for his fingers, locking eyes when he first inserts his digits in and your moan is like heaven to gojo bc he likes nothing more than to prove people wrong. and this is the best way to do it !!!! “cum on my tongue, sweetness.” oh YOU DO !!! YOU DOOOOOO
and then you think gojos done with making his statement. nah. youre so fucked out just from oral and hes smirking down at you, bringing your hands to his crotch.
“what?”
“wan’ you to open my pants yourself.”
“so it’s small?”
gojo scoffs with a smile, he already finds himself addicted to you and your taste. “no. just curious to see your surprised face.”
it gets him off every time (even after dating. and cmon dont tell me you WONT be his gf or at least his fwb after this?) you react like that, mouth open and eyes never leaving his exposed cock that he could probably slam it inside.
wee woo and once he starts to fuck you ooohhhhhhggggghhh eveyrthing you say is INCOHERENT. you try to string words together, insults and name calling here and there but it’s always interrupted by moans and whines. “you’re so— mmhfuck— insanely anno— satoru!” its words and words but none of them make sense. youre drunk on his cock. he fucks you in every position imaginable and the first time he wants to pull out bc he isnt an asshole, you're trapping him between your legs and begging him to cum inside, inside, inside WOOOOWWW HE GOES INSANE.
“i’m on the pill, s-satoru! wan’ your cum inside, please, please—”
“you’re driving me fucking c—crazy. i will, i will.”
anyway yeah you guys go multiple rounds and youre rendered speechless at every turn, surprised at yourself that even when youre spent youre sinking down on his cock and riding him yourself right after you both came. everythings sticky and gross and gojos still sensitive but hes hooked on your pussy and lets you do whatever <33
the next morning u wake up caged in his arms and hes saying something annoying again. “wanna make this a regular thing?” and you attempt to reject him, pushing him away and getting up from your bed but youre sore everrywherreeee and he swoops in just as youre about to fall. “dick too good, huh?” you roll your eyes and just let yourself be pampered by him. you spend that next day just making out and being close to each other and u wonder what to tell utahime LMFOAAOAOA
you end up getting a few missed calls after gojo had sent a selfie of you both, blanket covering your naked bodies after doing the obvious and he just chucks ur phone to the side and continues to kiss you LMAOAOAOAO. oh sigh thats such a nice scenario maybe ill write it properly one day
hello hello!
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