#In which case the question is raised even more - what exactly does the play show? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlebitsmile · 2 months

Text

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #slow burn #f1 imagine #haters to lovers

34 notes · View notes

waitmyturtles · 7 months

Note

Hello,

Some of your Only Friends meta sparked a question for me: You've referred to the impact of purity culture on how the boys (particularly Boston) are viewed both within the show and by fans watching. I was raised evangelical Christian (don't worry, it went poorly), so my associations with purity culture are quite specific to promise rings, abstinence-only education, and that sort of thing. However, you seem to be working from a much more expansive view that includes purity culture's downstream effects such as slut-shaming, heteronormativity, pressure to perform monogamy, etc. (and in at least one case you also linked it to colonialism).

Since your definition of purity culture is so much broader than mine has traditionally been, I'm curious: What exactly do you mean when you use the term, and what are the parameters of purity culture from your perspective?

I've been kind of squinting interestedly at your usage and trying to reverse-engineer your definition from context and it finally occurred to me that I can just ask you lol

(also I know tone can be hard to gauge on the internet so just to be safe: I'm in no way trying to start a weird fight about the meaning of the term; I'm just interested in what you're saying and seeking to understand it better)

Thank you!

Bonebag

HELLO @sorry-bonebag! WHAT A QUESTION! I don't think this is weird at all -- I think it's the fascinating basis of a conversation.

I'm not sure that I'm going to have a central, singular answer for you regarding how I view and/or define "purity culture." I think, as I generalize (massive emphasis on my generalizations in this answer) society's lack of acceptance for open sexual conduct and engagement, that we're dealing with a lot of elements of how power is managed and distributed among humans. For example, if we roll back to, say, the creation of Christianity as a religion, we have to ask: WHY does the religion have what it says about sex? Controlling sex means controlling people -- it means controlling who gets born, and who gets to pair with each other. Controlling sex means controlling behavior, and creating submissiveness to a religion allows a smaller group of people massive power over larger groups. Christianity (as an example) is a modern expression of a primal biological urge that humans have to create groups and gain power for survival. So, first and foremost, to judge someone else for having sex in modern times gives that judge a sense of power over someone else.

In a judgement against sex, and people who have unabashed sex -- let's use Khai from Theory of Love and Boston as examples -- what assumptions/judgements/behaviors are leveraged as we condemn these men (and women, and non-binary individuals) for having lots of sex? From my lens, we have the following prejudices playing into this:

Misogyny Internalized homophobia (on the part of the person being judged) Externalized homophobia (on the part of the people doing the judging) Biases against nontheistic people Jealousy (for the ease in which some people can come into sex) Competition

and so many more. All of these prejudices can and ARE leveraged to judge people for having sex, because judging people for having sex gives the judges power in greater society, as greater society ultimately looks down on the practice of having lots of sex.

I think a fantastic example of this is when Sand was talking about Boston to Ray in this past weekend's episode. Why the hell would Sand even have any business talking about Boston to Ray? Because condemning Boston's "slutty" behavior will give Sand a sense of power for Ray to acknowledge.

By calling another person a "slut" -- a person like Sand gains an upper moralistic and ethical hand. All while Sand is the person that Ray is sleeping with as Ray cheats on Mew. Calling someone ELSE a slut allows Sand (and, let's be honest, Ray, too!) to escape accountability for his own questionable behavior.

And that's what I'm calling out in my posts, especially my Morning After meta from yesterday. If a meta writer is condemning Boston for having sex, or is interpreting that SandRay have only slept together once, to fulfill some kind of shipper fantasy -- I'm going to write about those judgements in my posts, because I don't think those judgements are fair to a show that was very open and honest, at its premiere, about its premise that it would be digging into issues regarding sex and toxicity. I think "purity culture," as we're calling it, is a means by which the fandom wants to control the sexual behavior of Asian queer men. Much of the fandom here on Tumblr is Western, and as an Asian-American, it also gives me the jibbles that a Western audience would want to control with power, the behavior of Asian queer males, a much smaller demographic than a wider Western audience. That's where I bring a colonialist accusation to the table. To me, all of this keeps coming back to power. (I write about this in that post that talks about colonialism. Shipping really worries me. To force two young Asian males into a relationship fantasy -- and then to push that fantasy towards monogamy and a restriction of sex. I mean. Whoa. I very much see colonialism and racism in there, as non-Asians push Asians to behave in prescribed ways.)

This conversation circles back in part to the exhortation I made at the start of OF's premiere, that as much of the fandom as possible should watch Gay OK Bangkok. Jojo Tichakorn's and Aof Noppharnach's GOKB depicted Asian queer males in sex, love, pain, and careers. In this show, there were no condemnations for slutty behavior. (I mean, Pom expected Arm to fall in and out of love, but Pom wasn't being judgmental about it -- he ended up being there for his friend in a hilar way. Anyway!) A specter of morality and ethics, the Greek chorus or peanut gallery of chirping about not having sex did NOT permeate the show. It was just -- Asian gay males living their lives.

Only Friends is bringing up sooooo much about how the characters within the show, and the fandom external to the show, think about, talk about, and judge sex. Having these conversations, for me, is lifeblood. As an Asian-American, I WISH I could have had these open conversations about sex when I was a growing teen. Alas. The culture in which I grew up -- one that valued virginity, purity, and one that condemned sexual experimentation -- prevented me from being open in conversation about sex. I'm thankful that I grew up more and more independently as I got older, and that I had the intellectual capacity to understand and process when I was being judged, myself, for having sex. Because we've all been there, those of us who have had and enjoyed sex. We've been condemned for it, judged for it, every single one of us. We've been made to feel guilty about it.

And even as someone like Boston gets JUDGED, in every episode of OF, for HAVING lots of sex -- I SO appreciate his existence as a character and a narrative device, that he exists as a mirror for OTHER characters, like Ray/Atom/Sand/even Mew/even Top -- who do not hold themselves accountable for either similar behaviors, and/or for behaviors that are far more questionable than simple having sex. Top violated Mew's boundaries in episode 8 -- flat out. And Top's not been held accountable for a second. Top still has power, he still has an upper hand.

This was a long answer, @sorry-bonebag, but TL;DR: POWER. Power and accountability are two elements of humanity that I am forever fascinated by, and I love that we have a brilliant showmaker in Jojo to help highlight this in his art.

I very much hope I touched upon a kind of answer for your question, but at least you got to read some of my deeper thoughts on this topic! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS CONVERSATION!

#thanks for the ask!#only friends the series #only friends #only friends meta #sex and power #sex and power in thai BLs #sex and power in asian dramas

64 notes · View notes

gatoru · 2 years

Text

addicted || m. fushiguro x reader

author's note: the long promised, eagerly awaited stoner!megumi fic is here. this is my first time writing proper smut in a while, so feedback is highly welcome.

wc: 2.1k

summary: stoner!megumi invites you over for a smoke -- things escalate. (afab!reader, high sex, protected sex, p in v, a bit of dirty talk, you can tell megumi was raised by gojo in this)

Megumi’s long, thin fingers carefully roll the thin paper around, and he makes sure the joint is tightly wrapped. The tv is on, but neither of you care about the horror movie that plays before you. The blonde cheerleader looks like she’s about to get caught by the killer anyway.

“You want me to light it?” he asks, blunt and lighter already in hand. Something about his question tells you he already knows the answer. Still, you nod, and Megumi finally lights it.

He looks so good like this: smoke leaving his lips so effortlessly, pale fingers playing with the blunt. Megumi’s wearing a basic white t-shirt, along with gray sweatpants – yet he’s never looked so hot. He passes it to you, shortly after discarding the remaining ashes from the tip of the joint, and you hold the object with fake familiarity. It wasn’t your first time smoking, by any means. It was, however, the first time you smoked with him.

The dark haired boy smirks at you, seeing right through the facade. Fushiguro has always been good at reading people, and you’ve always been easy to read. It was a complicated, dangerous combination. He loves it.

“Here, lemme help.” Megumi chimes in, holding the blunt in between his fingers, as you press your lips around the end. You pull the smoke in, keeping it in your mouth for a few seconds.

“Good, now inhale it.” He commands, in a soft tone. As soon as you do as he says, the atmosphere changes to something thicker, something hotter. It’s like you’re wrapped in a bubble of softness – with him.

A few hits after, you feel lightheaded. The sofa you share feels extremely comfortable, and you don’t feel like getting up anytime soon. Megumi has a lazy grin blooming on his lips, slightly hooded eyes looking into yours. He laughs, which seems out of the blue. You can’t help but ask.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You.” He says, lightheartedly, briefly taking a pause to breathe. “Can’t stop looking at me.”

A wave of heat washes over your face, as you realize that you, indeed, have been looking at him non-stop – especially his fingers. But honestly, who could blame you? Megumi Fushiguro looks like he was personally chosen by the Gods, in order to look like one. His appearance is nothing short of divine.

“Shut up.” You mumble, turning your gaze towards the television in front of you. The blonde cheerleader is now fighting back against the masked killer – who turned out to be someone she knows personally. Through the corner of your eye, you can feel his piercing gaze, and deep down you know that pretending to be into the trashy horror movie playing before you won’t help your case.

On the brighter side, you knew exactly how Megumi behaved when high, from the sheer amount of times he showed up intoxicated at parties and get-togethers. The aloof, nonchalant facade falls like a mask and instead, a playful side of him comes out. His usual scowl becomes a lazy grin, his posture becomes more relaxed. And, of course, there was the teasing.

“Oh, c’mon.” He says, fingers brushing your arm softly, leaving goose bumps on the exposed skin. “‘M just joking. Did I hurt your feelings?”

You turn to look at him, eventually – and he’s much closer than you anticipated. His last words were soft, indicating that he actually wants to know if he crossed a line or not. Even when high, Fushiguro respects your boundaries. Your stomach does a flip at the realization.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” You brush off with a smile.

He won’t stop looking at you, though. His midnight eyes pay close attention to you, through long dark lashes. Fushiguro’s jaw is much sharper than it was a few years ago, when you attended Jujutsu Tech together. Some things stay the same as the years pass by, though: dark circles under his eyes, his usual messy hair gently falling right above his eyes. He never ditched the emo-ish look.

And he still hasn’t broken eye contact.

“Now who’s the one staring?”

Your question hangs in the air for a few seconds, and you smile at your own triumph. Fushiguro looks like he was caught off guard, and it seems like you won the battle of teasing banter. Although, the war hasn’t been decided yet.

“Can you blame me when you look this good, sweetheart?” He asks instead, and you almost freeze on your spot. Megumi was never the overly flirtatious kind, so this is unexplored ground between the two of you.

It’s nerve wracking.

It feels like a staring contest, the way you look at each other. The first one to crumble, loses. You had a feeling in your gut that you’d end up losing – or winning. Depends on the perspective.

“Come closer.” You whisper, and he immediately moves his body closer to yours. Your legs are comfortably placed on his lap now, and he’s drawing circles with his thumb on your inner thigh.

“Closer.” You meekly whisper, needing more.

“You’re getting greedy now, _____”

Still, he complies. His hands are now grabbing the back of your thighs, barely above your knees. Megumi pulls you towards him, slightly – his torso is pressed against yours, and you can feel his breath fanning over your face. You breathe in, he breathes out.

You move your face, nose brushing against his.

“Let me guess… closer?”

You smile at his words, and how he reads you so well – or maybe you’re just really obvious.

“Please.” You whisper, this time your lips are against his. And, really, Megumi doesn’t feel like he’d be able to deny you anything – not with those pretty, pleading eyes and sweet voice.

The kiss has more passion than you thought it would have. It’s all tongue, and a bit of teeth – roaming hands and curious touches. Fushiguro tastes like mint and smoke, and his mouth feels incredibly inviting. He’s right, you’re greedy – you just want more and more of him.

You can’t get enough.

He moves your bodies, searching for a comfortable position on the couch. When he lays you down on the plush, his lips are attached to your neck, teeth gently biting the soft skin. You let out a low whine, rolling your hips against his.

“You still want more?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You nod in response, feeling no shame at all. “You greedy thing.”

Megumi’s rolling his hips against yours, rutting against your core – you can feel his erection through the soft material of his sweatpants and your sweatshorts. His fingers hook on the sides of your shorts, bringing the piece of clothing down to your ankles. You kick your feet, helping him get rid of it.

His fingers tease your entrance through the thin material of your panties, and he smirks at the realization that you decided to go for lacy ones tonight. Megumi invited you for a smoking session, and you clearly had other intentions. He couldn’t blame you: the sorcerer always has bad intentions when it comes to you.

“So wet, sweetheart.” He whispers, lips moving against yours. He leaves kisses from your jaw to your neck, as he removes the lacy material. You shiver as the cold air hits your sensitive cunt.

His fingers are still moving against your skin, with expertise you didn’t know he has. With two digits, he collects your wetness, playing with it against your clit. With a moan, you move your hips against his hand.

Megumi inserts a single, long finger inside of your warm cunt. Your hole grips him tightly, clenching around his digit. He lets out a low grunt at the feeling, appreciating your reaction to his movements – how your breath shortened as his finger inched deeper inside of you, how you were still rolling your hips against his hand, still looking for more.

“What d’you want?”

His question sends yet another shot of adrenaline through your veins, like Megumi is your own personal drug. Still moving against his fingers in order to get more friction, you moan.

“C’mon, Megumi. Please, want you. Want your fingers, your cock. Anything, just fuck me already.”

He’s relieved with your answer, it seems like you were equally as tired of this cat and mouse game. Fushiguro’s been hard ever since he placed the joint in your mouth, when your lips brushed against his fingers he almost came on the spot.

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Megumi, shortly before taking his clothes off, pulls away from you in order to reach for his pocket, fishing a condom from the inside. He brings the package to his mouth, carefully tearing it with his teeth.

He lays open mouthed kisses and playful bites on the soft skin of your neck, while rolling the protective plastic on his erection. You’re sure this move must drive his sexual partners insane – as it is doing to you right now. At this realization, you almost laugh to yourself: it’s always the quiet ones.

The anticipation doesn’t slow down, the adrenaline is still pumping through your every nerve. Megumi slides his hard cock in between your folds, teasing you further. Your nails are forming half-moons on his biceps as you, again, beg c’mon megumi, please.

“I kinda wanna hear you beg again.” He says, voice dropping an octave or two. “You sound so pretty when you do it...”

“Megumi.” You purr his name, nails tracing his back as he hisses at the sensation. “Please, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

Your sweet, honey-dipped voice sounds like heaven to him – he loved the process of making you crumble for him, making you needy, exclusively for him. However, at this point, he couldn’t wait any longer either.

You feel the tip of his cock entering your velvety walls, as the both of you moan in relief. He inches deeper inside of you, he bends his body down in order to kiss you. All of your five senses were overwhelmed with him – all you could think, all you could feel was him. His taste, his touch, his scent.

A gasp leaves your mouth as he sets a comfortable pace, holding one of your legs above his shoulder. Megumi places a kiss on your calf, still keeping eye contact with you. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this – fucked out eyes looking inside of his own, mouth hanging slightly agape. A bubble of warmth starts to build on your lower abdomen. Everything just feels so good, and, due to your high state, you seem more sensitive.

“Fuck.” He moans against your neck, sucking yet another hickey on the sensitive skin. “Fuck, you feel so good. So warm, so tight.”

He’s fucking you slowly, deeply. The wet sounds add to the pleasure, and you feel like you could trip over the edge just by looking at where your bodies connect. Megumi rolls two digits against your sensitive clit, and you let out a whine in response – he’s hitting all the right spots, touching your every sensitive nerve.

It’s almost overwhelming.

“‘M close.” You confess, in between kisses. Your foreheads are glued together, and the subtle intimacy makes everything feel stronger. How your wetness mixes with his own, how the smell of sex and sound of skin against skin fills the room makes eveything more lewd.

“Me too, sweetheart. This pussy feels so fucking good, fuck.”

His words make you roll your eyes in pleasure. Megumi fucks you a bit faster now, fingers still playing with your sensitive clit.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He asks, increasing the speed of his thrusts. You nod, unable to speak from the overwhelming pleasure.

Your hands grip his sweaty, dark hair, pulling him in for another kiss. His tongue is sliding against yours sloppily, and you feel the bubble of warmth on your tummy explode. He seems to be right on the edge, yet he hasn’t stopped kissing you.

You shake from the white-hot feeling that travels through your veins, as your body convulse in extreme pleasure. Fushiguro swallows your moans and whines, and you press your nails deeper on his skin.

The slight pain mixed with the velvety feeling of your tight cunt sends him over the edge, as the earth stutters in its axis. He cums, kissing you even deeper. You lose where his body starts and where yours begins, as you’re tangled with him. Megumi lays on top of you like a weighted blanket as you come down from your high.

After a brief moment, you can feel his arm moving towards the coffee table. He's still close to you – his softening dick is still inside your sensitive pussy, and you hiss at the movement.

With a lazy smile on his face, lighter and joint on his hand, he asks:

“Wanna smoke another one before round two?”

a/n: hope you liked it! if you did, please consider giving this a reblog or comment :)

tagging: @heartpawz @missmeinyourbones @emilykwpt @moonamor

#megumi hcs #megumi smut #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen smut

563 notes · View notes

mrbensonmum · 2 months

Text

TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. XI

The end of the sixth season is not only near, it's kicking the door in with a cane. Just now, in the last episode of the season, the construction crane collapsed. And man, have we been through a lot.

Towards the end of the fifth season, things really heated up. First, we got to see "The Social Contract," another very interesting episode, as I mentioned before. Then, with "Locked In" and "Simple Explanation," things got intense, and before we knew it, the tone changed, and House found himself in the midst of a crisis.

Of course, we can't overlook that this crisis had a trigger, a pretty intense one at that. One morning, Kutner didn't show up for work. Many assumptions were made, and when Foreman and Thirteen went to his apartment, they discovered that Kutner had shot himself.

This was already the case before, but from here on, the series unabashedly plays with colors (Color Grading). The mood is often supported by a dark, blue tone or a light, soft, slightly orange tone, making it even more clear to the viewer. This happens right up until the sixth season and occurs again and again, depending on how intense the various moods are dictated by the story.

I also found it intense that Amber was brought back into play here. She had become an important link between House and Wilson, even though it looked different after her death. This also reminds me of a description of Amber that I should have mentioned much earlier, where she is described as being like House and how Wilson actually wants to be with House. It's interesting because that's exactly what happens in the sixth season when House and Wilson move into the new apartment. For a brief moment, they're a couple, and it just fits incredibly well. It's just a shame that the lovely Sasha Alexander has to suffer because of it. It's fascinating how she has changed since the first two seasons of NCIS.

We wouldn't be with House if everything were easy. So, House himself has to go through hell again before he is actually taken to a rehab center on a second attempt. Anything else wouldn't fit, but I also felt a little sorry for him here because realizing that his dream was just a dream, where he didn't end up with Cuddy, was pretty harsh.

The sixth season then starts with House's stay in rehab or in a psychiatric hospital where he meets interesting personalities. This includes Franka Potente, who is mainly known from German productions, which pleased me at the time. She is also one of the few German actors who can dub themselves, which was very well done here. I really like this story arc because it shows the ups and downs of House and his realization that constant rebellion may not be the right path after all.

Of course, many important topics are addressed again in the sixth season, one of which is euthanasia. It has been shown or hinted at several times before, but here it appears several times. One time, it's even not from the patient's perspective but from the doctors', which is incredibly unusual. The most impressive was also the instance where House was locked in with a dying patient and increased his morphine dose in the end.

The other major topic is, of course, Chase's act. He caused the death of a patient who was a dictator. This episode has raised questions over and over again, and rightly so. Is that okay? Is that justified? Just as I write about it, I realize that I don't want to delve into this topic as much because discussions about it are exhausting and not good for me right now. But everyone has to decide for themselves, especially in such a profession, what all of this means for them, ethically and morally.

I've skipped over some episodes and topics now, and that's somewhat intentional. Because while the sixth season does focus on the patients' respective illnesses, it focuses even more on the developments of the protagonists. Foreman and Thirteen and their relationship. Taub and his wife, how does their marriage progress? Wilson and his love life! Cuddy, Lucas, and Rachel? And of course, House and his attempt to be happy, which becomes more than clear in the last or penultimate episode with a session with Dr. Nolan. All of this is extensively dealt with in the sixth season and leads to some back and forth, which I don't mean in a negative way. Because even though there were already developments before, those that occur in the sixth season provide a breath of fresh air and keep the series at a high level of entertainment.

However, to come back to the penultimate episode of the sixth season, I can really understand House. You do and try everything, work on yourself, do your best, listen to others and their expectations of you, but in the end, only others feel better, and you feel worse. It's an absolutely terrible feeling, to put it bluntly, and no, it's not just because he's depressed or the pain is getting worse again. House is an overthinker, and he has already thought about a lot. No, it's a realization of the fact, and this is then reinforced by what happened in the last episode (the leg amputation). I don't condone what he does, but I can understand it.

The last episode is almost finished, and I'm not sure anymore how season seven starts; I'll indulge in that in a moment. I still remember quite a bit, but as often happens, it's a bit jumbled, so it's even more exciting.

Bonus: There's one more thing I'd like to write about because it was an episode that personally moved me. "Locked In" was again an episode where I felt very understood. Because even though the Locked-in Syndrome actually exists, there's another variant that is rarely talked about, sleep paralysis. A completely normal process where the body, once it falls asleep, becomes paralyzed so that we don't use the body too much while sleeping and dreaming. But it can also happen that you wake up, can breathe normally, move your eyes, but otherwise, you're practically paralyzed. Absolutely not a nice feeling, but again, kudos to the series for bringing attention to the fact that this exists and is something serious.

Oh yes, of course, I also noticed that Meat Loaf appeared in the fifth season. A great artist who heavily influenced my music taste in the 90s. Unfortunately, he has also left us, but I hope he rocks hard somewhere else.

#tvshow #tv show #dr. house #dr house #house md #greg house #gregory house #wilson #james wilson #dr wilson #cuddy #lisa cuddy #dr. cuddy #sasha alexander #ncis #meat loaf

16 notes · View notes

itsmaferart · 2 years

Text

SPY X FAMILY ·· Chap 66 ·· Melinda Desmond

··········Warning: This contains spoilers ············

Now moving on from analyzing the Forger family's dilemma individually and collectively. I want to talk about the most mysterious topic, the woman who has raised so many suspicions among the fandom. Yes! Melinda Desmond, Donovan's wife, and the first lady of the National Union

In this chapter, which continues through a flashback. We can see several interesting elements. In further analysis I do mention the similarities I find in the character of Melinda with the character of Twilight, as I said, I'm not claiming that Melinda necessarily "is a spy" - although it may be possible. But she shows to have a quite interesting level of intellect and whose only difference is that in her, we don't see her POV, something that does happen with Twilight (Mainly because Anya reads her thoughts)

Breeding Methods:

As we had already suspected, Melinda is not exactly a mother "attached to her children." In a rather curious Twiyor parallel, we see that Donovan and Melinda's "happy" reactions gave both Twilight and Yor a "prick" in their respective encounters. We know very well that although Twilight and Yor are possibly the characters with the sharpest instincts when it comes to danger, and while many normal people will find these reactions "pleasant". For them it was an obvious "alert" signal. But, neither of them managed to decipher the true nature behind these strange faces that hide something.

Both parents sounded indifferent to the Forger parents' apologies for Anya's punch to their son, Damiand.

Something that I highlight is how Endo manages that each element, no matter how small it may seem, ends up being a connecting thread throughout the plot and not a random element. Anya's blow towards Damiand has always had repercussions throughout the entire plot

Both parents downplay the matter, taking it as "child's play." And when Yor insists on apologizing, what does she get?

One of the scariest looks!

Evidently, this is a subject that Melinda makes it clear that she "doesn't want to discuss." and it becomes more curious when you hear close friends mention that it is all about parenting principle: the Laissez Faire

Phrase originated in France in the eighteenth century and means let do or let work freely. Where it was exhorted to eliminate the rules and not to impose the children to follow it.

However, for me and I think the whole fandom. This is probably more of an excuse to cover up their disinterest in raising their children. Obviously, if we take into account Dimitrius' apparent success as an Imperial scholar, and the Desmonds' influential image in society, no one questions this philosophy and sees them as "successful parents."

Now... Why are they so indifferent to their children?

There are multiple possibilities, from "not wanting to have children, but they did so because of their influential image, because they belong to a conservative party that follows the idea of the family canon to the letter"; "because their interest is focused on their respective jobs and political and social ambitions" or "because they consider that this supposed freedom will give their children the formation of character, since attachment is weakness"... Or all this happens simultaneously... Which results in how lonely Damiand is, his desire to be recognized for even the smallest crumb of affection or approval.

It may be because she "just didn't want to have them." She may have been forced to marry, due to issues of power, politics and social pressures, or she just didn't want Donovan's children... In that case, it seems that Melinda is more focused on her "own freedom" and not on the been her family

Circle of friendship

Imagine that Melinda's circle seems "impenetrable". They confirm that her current friendships are all those before getting married. But Melinda deliberately interrupts this conversation. She also comments that because of her status she doesn't have many friends: It's probably to avoid relationships with people who want to get something from her but also for security so that any spy doesn't try to get something from her.

And it reveals important details:

The omission of her identity:

In a supposed "white lie", Melinda confesses that she intentionally didn't mention his name. Because she is surely pondering Yor's reactions, from the moment she saved her. If this was a chance meeting, then Melinda was analyzing the reasons why Yor saved her. Did he do it because he knows who I am? Or did he just decide to do it? If she's as analytical a person as Twilight himself, then she could have instantly noticed that Yor was ignorant of who she was with, plus it was so easy to drag her into a match. In a very short time, Yor opened up to Melinda and showed her insecurities as a Mother, and being in a club with many other moms, possibly this woman noticed how "vulnerable" Yoru can be, despite her magnanimous strength.

There is something clear that all this leaves me and it is that: Melinda found in Yor something that "she wants or needs"

Although, there is a possibility that Melinda has an interest in being friends with Yor. She may also have an interest in "influencing her," other than ideas like "parenting, and political and social concepts." And she uses "friendship" as her means to get closer to her. I don't know if she does it specifically out of interest in Loid Forger's character (since we don't know how Donovan had described Loid in private) or if her interest is really in Yor.

Remember how Loid (Twilight) mentioned (lied) that Anya was very moved by Damiand's presentation regarding his parents' professions?

Although I know that Twilight has been a wonderful father to Anya, he is still a spy and will not miss these opportunities to "alter the truth" at his convenience. I wouldn't be surprised if Melinda in this scene played with this same strategy, of "using her son as a pretext" for a rapprochement. (Because obviously Anya doesn't talk about sy-on boy as a friend, she does it for the mission)

Her second look

I don't know if Melinda was trying to contain herself and she can't…or if this look has a subtext…if there is. I'm not sure which one it is.

Now, speaking a bit about the shopkeeper

I think the little that the shopkeeper made clear to us in this chapter is that his view of the Desmonds is... "derogatory." While not radical enough to forbid Yoru, his best assassin, from being friends with Melinda-a clear Conservative Party figure-he makes it clear with hints that he has his own reservations about this family...and can Whether or not this affects the future.

Shopkeeper may have foreseen that they will have to finish off the Desmonds if they discover more background to officially declare him "traitors". And that's when having a bond with them becomes risky. This could be an indirect way of telling us that Melinda (or Donovan) is in favor of the radical faction that took over the "secret government" and caused the division (which may be the same one in charge of the human/animal experiments of the scientist with glasses )

A brief theory would be that in the past: When the conservative party that Desmond now leads financed these secret projects as a future strategy for war, seeking a radical peace where Ostania destroys Westalis. But, the current party, which rules Ostania, although it pursues acts of espionage with the SSS, it may seek peace, but not through a war conflict.

So, now, these secret projects and Donovan's party seek from the shadows to reactivate the war, through other strategies to finance. The Desmonds seek the gratitude and absorption of other companies, financiers and collaborators, and at the same time caused a division in the secret government where the man with glasses is leading the group against Garden and sought to eliminate the entire Gretchen family, as was Olga's case.

Now, Melinda may be directly involved with her husband, they may be pursuing their plans simultaneously, or she may be the one pulling the strings.

If this is so, it is possible that Melinda has also recognized Anya's name (because of the experiments) or as I said, her interest lies in Yor, her husband, or in the entire Forger family. Which would make some sense of her sudden interest in the two sons actually becoming friends.

The freedom of this woman

Another interesting idea mentioned by other very good posts is the idea that Melinda, despite being very intelligent, feels overshadowed in political power for being a woman. Although it seems strange to me that he manipulates Donovan because it is implied that they are not close, she may have strategies and plans independent of his. Socially, she has a lot of power, but at the same time she is very limited by not being able to have much contact with other people and is only limited to her social circle.

Maybe this is the cause that draws her so much towards Yor (personally). Yor is a common woman, with a common life (or so she appears) but she seems to have many more freedoms. In addition, she is incredible and imposes herself with her own physical power, althoung Yoru doesn't realize. Yor ir someone who attracts attecntion and people quickly realizes her potential, but is overshadowed by her insecurity and clumsiness

A chance encounter?

The most intriguing thing so far is whether Melinda did find Yor by chance. Her surprised expressions looked quite genuine so it's possible that this was an event in her favor. This would be the best case, since it puts Twilight and Melinda on the same board. For each one to make their own strategies and meditate the reactions

If it was a planned meeting, it would be much more dangerous. Indicating that Melinda or the Desmond Family has been watching the Forgers closely enough to know that Yor would go to the mall, and that it would save her. And it would imply that they have managed to override Twilight and Yor's keen instincts.

What we know so far is that Melinda is a mystery.

What are you thinking?

157 notes · View notes

percontaion-points · 2 years

Text

Crave chapters 30-32

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 30

“There’s no posturing, Grace.” Jaxon reaches for me, but I yank my hand away before he can take hold of it.

“Whatever you want to call it. It’s boring and annoying and I’m over it. So get out of my way and let me go to class before I forget I’m a pacifist and punch you in the face.”

That didn’t even last for a full day…

And then, without waiting for him to answer, I sweep past him and into a classroom where everyone—even Lia and the teacher—is staring at me. Big. Freaking. Surprise.

Chapter 30 summary: The three of them start speed walking towards the exit. Thanks to having been raised in California, Grace is used to earthquakes, but that doesn’t mean you should simply stand around when you’re in one. When it starts to get worse, the three of them begin to flat-out run, and Flint ends up half-carrying Grace to the exit.

Once they leave the tunnel, the earthquake randomly stops. The three of them stop to catch their breath for a second. Jaxon is there, and he’s hella pissed to see Grace with Flint. Lia quickly leaves to go to art, leaving Grace in the middle of the pissing contest. She calls both of them out on their shit, but it’s dragged out for a couple more pages past that.

When Grace does go into class, she finds everybody staring at her.

Chapter 31

I turn toward my cousin’s voice—the first girl to speak to me since I went off on Jaxon and Flint five hours ago…

OH SO THE AUTHOR DOES KNOW HOW TO SKIP OVER UNIMPORTANT EVENTS.

Except that when I climb to my feet and turn around, it’s to find that someone already has. Jaxon.

Chapter 31 summary: We finally get a time-skip for the first time since this stupid book got started. She’d ignored Jaxon and Flint for the rest of the day, but Jaxon’s friends showed up to make sure she found her next classes.

After school, Grace begins to feel too cooped up needing to stay inside all the time because of the weather. She contemplates going up to her room to get her winter gear on, but nixes that idea because it sounds like such a goddamned bother.

She eventually wanders around the school some, trying to get a feel for where everything is, besides her classes. However, as she finds the music room, she overhears them playing one of her dad’s favorite songs. She freaks out and runs off, only to end up in one of the highest points in the school. She finds another library there, and curls up in a chair and cries for a long time.

When she’s finally cried herself out, she realizes that she had an audience: Jaxon.

Chapter 32

It’s Not a Coincidence that Denali and Denial Use All the Same Letters

Did it take you long to come up with that?

And part of losing that common sense means doing exactly what I shouldn’t —in this case, following Jaxon straight out the window and onto the parapet.

Chapter 32 summary: Grace is naturally embarrassed to have been caught having a moment of grief, and tries to leave. He asks her how it is that she can simply… express her emotions, but then stops himself from finishing that sentence.

He shows her into a room, and it takes her a moment for her to realize that it’s his dorm room. She looks around at everything, and then looks at this painting he’s got on the wall. After a five second glance at it, she randomly decides that it’s an original Klimt, and not simply some poster or reproduction. I don’t have words at this point.

There’s a lot of the author’s favorite thing: Grace standing around and thinking things, which serves no point whatsoever.

Eventually, even Jaxon seems to get bored with the lack of plot movement, and gives her a pair of gloves to put on. He then opens the window and jumps out onto the roof, and Grace hesitates for a moment, questioning if she should. She eventually does.

#Crave series #Crave (Crave 1)#Chapter 30 #Chapter 31 #Chapter 32 #Grace (Crave)#jaxon vega #UGH JUST UGH #i'm done goodbye #Flint (Crave)#Lia (Crave)#shitty writing is shitty #I would ask where the editor was but I think we all know there was none

1 note · View note

kemakoshume · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞-𝐦𝐨𝐢 (alpha sukuna x omega afab!reader) — pt. 2 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

warnings; lmao okay let's go down the list — ABO dynamics! she/they enby omega!reader (pronouns used interchangeably, reader is referred to as a girl via pet names— i.e. baby girl, good girl, etc). alpha!sukuna, office/modern times au—no curses, boss x employee dynamic. office sex, oral (f!receiving), one singular clit spank, ass play (not full-on anal), asphyxiation/breath play, orgasm delay/denial, light dom/sub, sex toy/vibrator, overstimulation. i think that's it lmao pls lmk if i need to add anything else!

a/n; "eh, i'll just write a little epilogue" — the epilogue: [10k words] idk what happened either i just blinked and this showed up in my google doc, don't look at me. pt. one; pt. two ♡⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾ʚ enjoy! || ~ crossposted on ao3 in case you prefer reading long fics over there ~

“So, in summary, you — Sukuna — were asked to aid the subordinate in an abrupt, unplanned, heat — spurred on not by a prior relationship of any kind, but primarily because you were the only alpha in the vicinity that was awarded the omega’s trust. That resulted in four — no, five — days of intimate exchanges that have culminated in an amorous relationship, of which the two of you require human resource mitigation in regards to work circumstances. Does that sound correct?”

You look over at the alpha by your side, reaching out your hand beneath the heavy oak table to grab hold of his. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

The manager turns her attention towards the man, raising her eyebrows as she reiterates the question. “Sukuna?”

“Yes, Utahime,” he nods, squeezing your hand softly. “You're correct.”

“Okay, good,” the woman says, scribbling her initials across the side margin of the document sitting on the table before her. “Now, last thing. I have to ask… are you confirming that the intimate nature of the relationship will continue? Even if it isn’t, we still need to go over our next steps, but it’ll help me out a ton going forward if we’re all on the same page about this.”

You can feel Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the profile of your face, and when you look over to meet his gaze all you see within his eyes are questions. Does this mean we’re meant to be mated? Do we even like each other outside of the hormones and hedge fund conferences? Is this worth our careers?

Your mouth falls agape, opening and closing with a mumble of words with no meaning. What if you weren’t on the same page? What if it meant more to you than it did to him? What were you, exactly? The questions swirled in your brain, trying to seek refuge in memories of words spoken between moans, and sweet promises made over the sharing of meals. Still, when faced with the question in such a clinical way — even after the long two days of non-heat conversations the two of you had and the years you’d spent knowing him prior to this — the answer was still somewhat hard to find.

“I think it’s fair to say we have some things to figure out,” Sukuna says, his eyes not leaving yours as he takes the reins, “but, the chemistry is there, and to be completely frank, it’s way too strong for me to ever look at her as just an employee ever again. I don’t think I’d have an easy time following any of our employee ‘harassment’ clauses with her around and I definitely don’t think I could go the whole workday having to pretend she’s anything less than my — well, like I said, I think we still have some things to talk about. Still, unless I’ve misread something, I think it’s safe to answer that question with a yes. What do you think?” he asks, passing the question back over to you.

You grin, drinking in his words and all of their implications — along with the passing thoughts of the days worth of merriment you spent shacked up in your home together. You feel your cheeks and neck growing warm, and your mouth going a bit dry. You clear your throat, trying and failing to hide the train of thought your mind has wandered down.

“I think… I agree. We have a few years worth of familiarity and we now have some… experience with each other outside of that, but there’s still plenty to learn. Lots of dates to catch up on, lots of questions to ask, lots of likes and dislikes to be learned.”

“Lots of long nights we’ve missed out on to make up for,” he teases, uncharacteristically quietly for him, though his words are still very audible in the close quarters around Iori’s desk space.

“Ryomen,” she warns, her eyes serious, though the smile on her lips is soft. He apologizes, squeezing your hand gently again as Iori fixes her gaze back onto the paper. You smack his arm softly, though you’re unable to hide the growing smile blooming on your face as you do so.

Iori scribbles down more words and signatures across her paper, quickly typing up something on her computer in tandem with her notes. She clicks a button on the screen and her printer comes to life, popping out a few sheets of white paper covered top to bottom in black ink. She reaches back her arm to grab the sheets from the device, turning them around and placing them in front of both you and Sukuna on your shared side of her desk.

“So, this top sheet is for both of you to sign. It’s just an acknowledgment of the disclosure about your relationship, budding as it may be, and it summarizes the order of events. It also has a confirmation statement from the employee relations department acknowledging their clearance of both of you from any wrongdoings. Please sign that, after you both read it. Your signature on top,” she says, motioning to you, “and your signature on the bottom,” she says, placing a spare pen down on the solid wood of the desk beside the papers.

You both read through the document quickly, nodding towards each other once you’re done. Sukuna signs across the dotted line first — his signature and printed name done in handwriting so pretty that you’re always a bit shocked to see his words written down. He hands the pen to you, holding the top of the paper down flat with his palm to keep it from moving while you scrawl your own signature above his.

With that, Iori takes the top sheet away, quickly shifting the papers so that they’re only sitting on your side of the table. “Now, for this next part, I need to speak directly to you. I’m assuming you’re familiar with our chief operations officer, Mei Mei. Correct?”

You nod, staring at the fair-skinned woman in wait for further explanation.

“Well, funny timing. She has officially extended an offer for you to come on board as her executive officer of operations — slash, head project manager. We haven’t exactly figured out the terminology of the role completely yet. I apologize,” Iori chuckles, twirling a Santos De Cartier rollerball pen between her lithe fingers. “But, anyway, this decision shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone; truthfully, we’ve been debating on who should fill the position for a while and you were at the top of the list long before this little ‘situation’ came to light. The final pick, being you, was made well over a month ago, but Mei Mei hadn’t been sure when to extend her offer. It would’ve screwed us if we had to let you go too soon. But now, all the associate executive training is done, and — after some internal review —we concluded that nothing unsavory was happening between the two of you prior to this past week. So, all the loose ends are tied.”

You look over at Sukuna, a grin curling the corner of your lips as you take in the smug smile painted on his. “Wait… Mei Mei wants me to come work under her? So… that means—”

“Congratulations on the promotion, and the six-figure raise,” Iori winks, placing her pen down beside her computer’s keyboard. “You’ll have to report to Mei Mei in her office on the flip side of downtown starting on Thursday, should you accept the offer and if the immediate start date works for you. This change in position will remove you from Sukuna’s direct subordination, so you two can continue whatever this is that you have going on, and we don’t have to lose either of you. I think they call this a… win-win?”

You chuckle, though the expression doesn’t stay on your face for very long. “But,” you hesitate, exhaling a slow stream of breath, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, I’ve only been here two years, and the company is still so new relative to that, and I’m sure there must be someone else with more experience or know-how than me that would have been a better fit. I just… I gave myself time to mold myself for this role that I’m currently in. I wasn’t really prepared to jump up to third-in-command overnight. I just — it feels sudden. And, won’t people think it’s a bit fishy that I was gone for a week — so was my boss — now we both come back, at the same time, and all of a sudden I’m changing locations and working a new position that makes triple my old salary? I just… I don’t want anyone to question how I got this.”

Sukuna shakes your hand a bit, drawing your attention.

“Bunny, isn’t there a saying about this? Something like… ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” Sukuna says, his voice teasing. “Listen, I need you to understand that you aren’t being given this opportunity. I had no pull on this decision at all, this all came down to Mei Mei and Nanami’s final deliberation. You fucking earned this! We’ve tripled our profits annually every year since you’ve stepped into your position. You’re quick as hell at the mouth and we’ve doubled our clientele base because of it. I mean, you talk circles around these guys we deal with every day and you make them see things your way. Not only that, but you make them think it was all their idea in the first place. It’s insane, and very… interesting to watch, to say the least.”

Iori clears her throat, a very knowing look on her face as she stares Sukuna down.

He grins, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of your hand. “Sorry, I’ll stop. But, [y/n], the only thing you need to be worried about right now is what color you want the walls painted in your corner office. You were great in your position here — amazing in fact, and everyone knows it. Now, you get to show off your shit at this new job. You’ll be great at it. I wouldn’t have pitched you for it all those weeks ago if I didn’t genuinely think it was true.”

You look into his eyes, the ruby-red sparkle in them calling out to yours. You feel your heart swell as you take him in — all of it in, really. It’s just… so much, so fast.

“Well, to be fair,” Iori quips, bringing you both back down into the moment, “Mei Mei was prepared to wait on an answer anyway, so you don’t have to decide on the offer right this second. It’s a big jump, I can’t fault you for being a little hesitant. However, I do have to explain that — given your position in the company — there’s not much else we can do with your employment here if you don’t want to move up. Unfortunately, you can’t work here and stay on as Ryomen’s direct report, but you’ve climbed the ladder here so quickly there’d be nowhere else for you to go, at least in our location, should you not accept the offer,” she says, her top lip curled down towards her bottom one. “Likewise, Sukuna is our chief information officer. So, to say the least, losing him in that role would also fuck us. But, [y/n]... you are nothing short of brilliant in your role. You’ve made us millions in profit, you’re constantly innovating new things for our customers, and investors, and overall… you’re a superstar. It’d be a huge loss for us if you decided not to stay. But, you’re free to do what you want in your personal life. Neither I nor Sukuna can, nor should we, make that decision for you.”

The alpha nods, squeezing your hand one final time before letting it go. “You heard her angel. The decision’s all yours.”

“Yeah,” you nod back, sitting up straighter in your chair as you reach over to grab a pen from Iori’s desk. “It sure is.”

“Alright, your paintings are officially bubble-wrapped and your coffee mugs are safe inside their padded box. Is that everything?”

“Almost. I still need to clean out my desk drawers, rehome these last three plants — but honestly, I think I can just leave them outside the door and someone will take them, then… I think I’ll be done.”

Nobara hums, loitering beneath the doorway of your nearly empty office. “It looks so weird in here without all your stuff,” she says, looking around the almost empty room. “However, you do realize that the whole point of your boss arranging a moving company for you is that you don’t have to do any of the packing or the moving… right?”

You chuckle, popping open a new moving box and sitting it on top of your office desk. “I know,” you groan, plopping down into the desk chair, “I just… wanted to go through my stuff to see what was a keep and what was a toss, but then I started really going through it all, and getting memories behind a lot of it, and I couldn’t help myself. At least now I know it was all packed with love.”

Nobara rolls her eyes playfully, walking into the room and sitting down on the newly exposed and vacuumed carpet. “I get it. This was basically your second home for the last couple of years. I imagine it’s a little hard to leave.”

“A little,” you scoff, a sad smile crossing your features. “I really am gonna miss this place. The catered food, the second-floor espresso machine, casual dress, ‘bring your fur child to work’ day, bar crawl night, the food delivery discounts, the weekly massages, the office parties…”

Nobara smirks, her eyes trained on you as she watches you dwindle down the list. “Oh please. Mei Mei’s office has everything we do, plus: comped hair appointments, makeup and skincare consultations, financial advisory, and I’ve heard rumors that she gives you a company credit card that rewards cashback and airline miles that she lets you keep. Frankly, I don’t think you’ll miss it here too much once those perks start rolling in.”

You chuckle, drawing your legs up to cross them in your lap, looking fondly at the beta woman. “Fair point. She does love making sure her people are taken care of and on her level. Still, it won’t be the same. The people there won’t be… well, you guys. Can’t replace that.”

Nobara rolls her eyes, rocking back onto her tailbone with her face towards the sky. “God, stop it. You were sappy enough during your going away party yesterday. I can’t handle it again today.”

You tease the beta, imitating her poor attempts at concealing her sniffles when you’re interrupted, the last person to stop by your office on the ‘office goodbye tour’ peeking into the doorway.

“Hey. Am I interrupting?” Maki says, poking her head into the room. You shake your head no, waving her in through the agape door of your office.

“Wow, I came to help out but it looks like you two got all the major packing done,” she says, looking around the barren room. “Well, not to add to the pile but I come bearing gifts. The whole department chipped in and got you one last thing as a ‘final goodbye’ present.”

She pulls out a wide black box from the large pocket in her briefcase, sitting the package down in front of you on your desk.

“Oh, what’s all this?” you say, your voice light as you stand up to open the box, eyeballing the myriad of items tetris'd neatly inside: a miniature Dior perfume, a labelless golden pendant necklace, Clase Azul Reposado Tequila, macarons, and a candle with a custom “good luck finding better co-workers than us” label with all of your associates’ names listed in tiny font.

“Aw, Maki! This is so sweet,” you say, the tears left unshed threatening to spill over in your eyes. “Thank you! God, you didn’t have to. This stuff is expensive! How did you even get all this?”

The older omega chuckles, crossing her arms across her chest. “Ryomen pays us all pretty well, you know. Also, Miwa down in sales has a connection that does VIP gift boxes at a big discount so we didn’t break the bank too much. Besides, you deserve it, and this promotion.”

You round your large desk, pulling the fellow omega into a tight hug. She tries to fight it, but after a few seconds, you feel her sigh in relentment, wrapping her own arms around you in a loose hug. “I should’ve let Itadori come give this to you instead before everyone left. Of course, I end up being the last one here to see you off. Well, and Nobara I guess,” she huffs, absentmindedly tightening the hug. “As the French say, ‘tant pis.’ I guess I’ll accept this on everyone’s behalf. You’re lucky your hugs feel nice and your hair smells like grapefruit.”

“Oh, whatever Maki,” Nobara interrupts, hopping up from her place on the floor to bounce up to you two, wrapping her arms around you both to make the hug a group affair. “You love this. Wouldn’t be rambling so much if you didn’t.”

You can’t see the juniper-haired girl roll her eyes, but you can feel it in the way her shoulders slump. You chuckle, rubbing both of the girls’ backs with the flat palms of your hands. “I’ll miss you both. I literally wouldn’t have made it last week without you so… thank you. I can’t think of the words to say other than that, and that I appreciate you both. I’m glad I met you.”

Nobara groans, her sounds muffled by the fabric of Maki’s sleeve. “Please, why are we acting like you’re moving to Timbuktu? You’re just going to the other side of downtown!” she laughs, lifting her face to look at you directly. “You’re not even moving! Just changing work locations.”

You giggle, leaning back with your arms still wrapped around the other girls’ waists. “You’re right. I won’t be far away, and I promise I won’t be a stranger. We can have our own little bar crawl night once I’m settled in with the new gig! How about that?”

“I’m down,” Nobara says, a smile beaming on her face.

“I’ll show up,” Maki smirks, pulling you back in for one final squeeze.

“You better,” you quip, looking behind Maki’s head to glance at the clock still fixed on your wall. “Oh, guys, you should get going. Traffic’s already bad but if you don’t go now then you’ll get stuck in peak rush hour traffic — aka, hell.”

The two women both turn their heads, looking up at the clock and prickling at the time.

“Shit, we probably should. Are you not coming with us?” Nobara asked, walking back over to where she’d left her purse on the carpeted floor. Maki sauntered over to her, not really doing anything, just hovering around in the beta’s space.

You shake your head no, scrunching your nose in protest. “Nah. You two go ahead. I want to get my desk packed and I have some paperwork to square away, then I’ll go.”

She pouts, jutting out her bottom lip and squinting her amber-colored eyes in contemplation.

“Don’t make that face,” you chuckle, corralling both women towards the door. “I’ve been staying here late for years. Security will still be here for a few more hours and I parked in the keycode garage so… I’ll be fine. Hurry up and go or it’ll take you an hour to get home.”

They both looked at you with dejected expressions on their faces. Maybe because this felt like a goodbye, even though you all knew it was more like a “see you later.” This was really it. The next time either of them saw you in a work setting again would be a conference, or maybe an office party you’d be invited to by proxy of Sukuna — if that continued — or maybe Nobara would invite you herself, or maybe Inumaki would extend the invitation via email with a cute little flyer he’d have made himself on Photoshop. Who knows.

It just felt a little strange to say goodbye, even with the little time you’d spent getting to know them both. But, sometimes friendship feels right like love at first sight. The two women were great humans, and it did hurt a bit to be abandoning the blossoming friendships. Physically, at least.

“Go, go,” you say, shooing them both towards the hallway, waving down at them as they finally pivot on their feet and move towards the elevators — mainly Maki, sort of pulling Nobara along with her hand on the beta’s lower back.

“Text when you’re home, please! And don’t drink too much of that tequila, it’s really strong! And it sneaks up on you!” Nobara yelled once they’d made it, leaving the office hallway in stark quiet once the elevator doors closed in her face.

You turn, sighing to yourself as you move back into your office, closing the door behind you as you make your way back to your desk, plopping back down into your large office chair. You dive into sorting through your things, turning on soft music over the speaker of your phone while you work on filling the last box. Admittedly, there was quite a bit of stuff in your drawers, but only so much of it served an actual purpose. You had typical office things of course: your pens, your stapler, highlighters, etc. But there were also plenty of knickknacks and other personal items you’d collected over the years: a fuzzy headband for nights where you’d stayed in the office late enough that you did your skincare routine, a few room temperature sodas, aforementioned skincare routine set, a metal scalp massager for when you got headaches, Tylenol for when you got headaches, socks for when your feet got cold, a heating pad, loose change, candy, and —

“Oh. I thought I took you home,” you mutter, digging around in the middle drawer of your desk until you unearth a little pink bullet vibrator. To be fair, the nights at the office were long, and the days could be stressful. The week leading up to your heat had you even more on edge than normal, understandably. Lingering thoughts about one tall, tattooed, rosey-haired alpha didn’t help the matter much either.

You smirk to yourself as thoughts stir in your brain featuring the man, heat rising beneath your collar as memories of the week that you’d spent together cross your mind. His scent — a heady mix of honey, pine, and peppercorn — still lingers in the back of your throat. His hands left imprints you can still feel on your hips. Your scent gland still throbs dully from the healed puncture marks carved delicately by his teeth, and your lips still feel numb from the weight of his kisses.

Your hand follows down the line of your jaw, mimicking the motions of his blunt nails tracing the smooth edges of your face. You lower your hand down the front of your shirt, cascading down the slope of your breasts over the peaked buds straining hard from the slightly air-conditioned chill of your office. You pinch them, groping your own chest with hands that are too small to imitate the alpha’s but feel good nonetheless. You lean back in the chair, forcing the top of the seat to recline. You take off your shoes, pulling up your knees and placing your feet flat near the edge of your seat while your hand moves further, trailing down your stomach before you find yourself stopping, lingering the touch above your womb. The absentminded thought of “what if” crosses your mind in a flash before you quickly shake it away, going down further to rest above your sex through the fabric of your bottoms.

Your office is secluded enough that, even if someone else had been present on your floor, no one would have been able to see you with your door closed, and you were always quiet enough that they definitely wouldn’t have been able to hear you if you made a little noise. In the two whole years you’d spent in your position, you’d never worried about anything more than the occasional janitor coming by, knocking lightly against the thick, heavy, wooden door before peeking in to ask if they could clean. An executive or two might have stayed late like you did but you were always aware, so your noises stayed hushed and your door remained closed. This would be your last opportunity to do this in the comfort of your own office. One more orgasm for the road couldn’t hurt.

You keep that in mind when your hand breaches the band of your underwear, sliding down into the wet slick leaking from your slit. The tip of your finger slides against the puffy lips, dipping down into the slippery warmth to rub circles around your swollen clit. You sink deeper into your seat, thinking desperately about the way Sukuna’s hands felt when he did this to you. Sitting you down in his lap, your back against his chest, rubbing lazy little circles against your clit while you watched TV on the couch during a moment of partial lucidity — lapping his tongue against all the nips and bites littering your skin to accelerate the healing simultaneously coaxing you into what must have been your seventh orgasm of that day to distract you from the contraction of your scar-devoid skin.

You lower your hand gripping the vibrator down to meet the other, replacing that hand with the soft vibrations from the toy. The sensation is inherently very different from your fingers, but the increase in pleasure is instantly palpable. The heat that’d built within your chest moved down to shroud your sex, tangling and pulsating within the swollen bud until you feel something akin to what lightning might taste like. Building and building until —

*knock knock knock*

The quick tapping of knuckles against your office door startles you, causing you to jolt upward as your heart rate skyrockets.

“Who is it,” you yell a touch too loud, stopping the vibrations from the toy.

“Housekeeping,” the person says, though you can tell from the coyness laced into the baritone voice that it’s definitely not housekeeping.

You remove your hand from your pants, tossing the toy into the box on your desk before wiping the wet digits on a company t-shirt you had stuffed in your desk drawer. “Come in.”

The alpha opens the door, sliding into the room dressed in casual clothes — very casual for him, actually. The alpha’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt, athletic pants, and sneakers which is a nice contrast to his normal (laid back) business attire, and a wonderful reminder of the sort of clothing he’d worn on the last day of your heat — when the temperature outside dropped thus increasing the need for warm clothes, and cuddles, which the agency preemptively provided.

He looks cute.

“I—” Sukuna starts, though the words get stuck in his throat as he inhales, sniffing the pheromones saturating the air. He looks down at you, his eyes trained on you with that look you’d spent the last week getting used to. “Were you just…”

“Yes,” you admit, too self-aware of the smell — the smell that you normally would have dispelled by turning on your air purifier… the thing that Nobara had so kindly packed for you first as you’d cleared out your things. And you — stupid, horny, post-heat you — didn’t think to crack a window or something.

Your natural scent was more prominent than it normally would have been, since you’d foregone wearing the intensely strong blockers you’d used before. You made the switch to a more neutral brand, like the kind most omegas in your country chose to use. Still, the scent of arousal was not mutually exclusive to your omega scent, so… it could stand out on its own even through blockers. Obviously.

“What were you thinking about that got you horny enough to touch yourself in the workplace, huh?” he asks, sauntering towards you, watching you like a lion stalking prey through the tall elephant grass of the savannah. He grabs the arms of your chair once he reaches you and leans down into your space, his nose mere inches from your own.

“How’d you know I was still here?” you ask, meeting his gaze. “Stalking me?”

He chuckles, running his tongue across his bottom row of teeth. “I asked you a question first bunny.”

“I asked you second Ryo. I got the last word, so you have to answer me first,” you tease, running your sock-covered foot up his torso, pushing up the fabric of his shirt.

The alpha tenses his jaw, turning his head slightly to the right like he might kiss you, but he doesn’t. “I came to get some papers from my office. Asked Aoi why he was still in the security station and he said he was waiting around since you were still up here… and because Yuki isn’t here to switch shifts with him yet.”

You smile, lifting yourself up enough to trap his bottom lip between your teeth, soothing it with a soft kiss. “She’s something else. Gotta love her.”

“Mhm,” he hums, deepening the kiss as he sinks down to balance on his heels. “Answer my question, kitten.”

You giggle, the sound coming out more breathless than you meant for it to. “Well, I was packing some things.”

“Go on,” Sukuna coaxes, lifting the fabric of your shirt to expose the soft flesh of your tummy, kissing and nipping the skin above the band of your bottoms voraciously. He grips the fabric there, sliding down the material —and your underwear, by proxy — until it's pooled on the floor and your legs are exposed to the chilled air of your office. He kisses your skin — all over your hips and lower belly as his eyes look up at you expectantly.

“I, uh, while I was sorting through everything — I found a little toy I’d brought to keep me company on late nights, and I started thinking about some things and I thought… well, no one’s here. Might as well have one last hurrah in my office while it’s still mine.”

His eyes pop open wide, the kissing ceases as the alpha stares at you in unabashed bewilderment. “I’m sorry,” he scoffs, standing up in an instant. He moves his legs to balance one knee on your seat, situated between your legs and forcing them open, while he brings up his free hand to grip your jaw firmly.

You smirk, the little laugh that escapes your lips followed quickly by a groan when his fingers dip down to wrap — less firmly — around your throat. A gentle threat, but not enough for you to lose your ability to speak.

“You mean to tell me… that all those long nights we were working together —just a floor apart — you were in here touching my pussy right under my nose?”

You chuckle, lightly scraping your nails along the span of his muscular forearm to wrap around his wrist. “I don’t remember saying it was yours, and it definitely wasn’t yours then,” you tease, lifting your hips to rut against his thigh placed perfectly between your legs. “I was playing with my pussy, in my office, thinking about how badly I wanted my boss to come down here and fuck me so hard I couldn’t remember my own name.”

Sukuna grins, placing his left palm flat on your lower belly to stop your movements. “Funny you mention that, bunny. See, I remember you screaming for me while I fucked you for five straight days, with two extra thrown in for good measure — even after the heat stopped. You let me, and all of your neighbors, know whose pussy this is — over, and over, and over again for 168 hours. Every time I filled this tight little cunt with my cum and stuffed you full with my knot — you came, and you cried, and you begged me to do it all over again. ‘Til you were so full of my cum that you couldn’t even keep your eyes open, and you couldn’t remember your name ‘til day six.”

He leans down into your space again, so close you can taste the peppermint on his breath from whatever brand of gum he must have chewed before coming into your office. “The heat must’ve made your memory a little hazy, baby” the alpha coos, placing a ghost of a kiss against your lips, “that’s okay. I think you just need a little refresher, huh kitten?”

You nod, twisting your hips side to side beneath the pressure from his hand, groaning when he tightens the pressure on your neck, enjoying the lightweight feeling that envelops your brain for a few moments, his gaze intense as he looks down at your face to gauge your reactions. He kisses your chin and your cheeks as his hand on your throat relaxes, moving it back to cradle your neck. His fingers spread, gliding along the surface of your scalp before he grabs a fistful of your hair there near your nape. He yanks back your head, pulling you into a searing kiss that steals all the breath from your lungs. Then, the alpha's tongue pushes into your mouth, the sound of your kisses loud in the empty room even over the sound of your music.

You revel in the taste of him on your lips, falling into the push and pull of his mouth on yours easily as though you’d never left the comfort of your queen bed. Sukuna groans as he takes in a deep breath, separating his lips from yours to suck the pulsating scent gland on your neck. “How long were you touching yourself before I walked in?” he murmurs, relaxing the hand gripping your hair to cradle your head in his large hand.

You moan, straining the tendon housed between the muscles and bone there to allow him utmost access to your throat. The submission crashes heavily on your senses, and the fervent swirling of “want” brewing beneath your skin comes bubbling up to the surface. “Too long,” you whine, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the pressing need for him grows, “please, alpha.”

The alpha's scent flares — that signature mix of woodiness and sweetness you craved so deeply flooding into your nose and dulling your senses. The music is silent, the ambient light from your last remaining lamp dims, and the only scent in the office belongs to the man above you.

“Alpha?” he mimics, moving the hand on your belly down, slipping his fingers into the dripping wet heat of your cunt. “What happened to Ryo angel? Losing yourself already and I haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

A moan spills from your lips — a loud desperate sound as he curls the digits, pushing against the spongy patch of nerves along the top of your walls. He's kissing you wherever he can reach: your jaw, your ears, your collarbones… anywhere. The alpha's mouth explores further down while his fingers work, eventually stopping when he’s situated above your breast. His teeth graze over your nipples still covered by the pesky layer of your clothing, biting the little nub before placing a soothing kiss there in vain. He reclaims the hand that’d held your head up, letting your upper body relax against the leather of the chair so he can remove your shirt — making quick work of untying the little decorative ribbon in the middle and unbuttoning the snaps, exposing you fully. “So pretty baby,” Sukuna coos, leaning down to suck the bud into his mouth, moving his thumb against your clit in maddening circles.

“Please,” you sigh, a sharp intake of breath quickly following when he adds slight pressure from his teeth. “Please, ‘was already close. Just… more. A little more.”

He hums against your breast, sending vibrations down into your chest, resonating in your heart. “Say it, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Say — oh — what?”

Sukuna looks up at you, his fiery red eyes alight with mischief. “Tell me who’s pussy this is, and I’ll let you cum.”

You scoff, looking down at him through squinted eyes as the spirit of mischief makes its way into you. “Keep dreaming,” you tease, tilting your head back to break eye contact, not allowing the incoming flood of endorphins tip-toeing around your brain to make you break. “You only heard me say that because you caught me in a heat. Now — fuck — I’m lucid, Ryo. You have to earn it.”

His muscles stiffen, the motions of his fingers against your clit coming to a halt. He pulls out the digits and unlatches his mouth from your breast, sucking your essence off of his fingers as he moves, sauntering over to the couch teaming with pillows you’d gotten to accent its forest green color.

The man grabs four pillows and a blanket from the small pile of (decorative) bedding, walking back towards your desk on the side opposite of where you’re sitting, touching yourself again to replace the alpha’s larger, more flexible, fingers.

“Whatcha doin’?” you ask, your voice still heavy with arousal as you watch the alpha move around the room.

He drops two of the pillows onto the surface of your desk, sliding one of them close to the edge of the table, while the thick blanket is spread onto the floor in front of your couch, and the other pillows are scattered around the area. He ignores you — the only indication he’s even listening to you, and what your hands are doing, is the sharp spike in that honey undertone in his scent that alludes to his growing arousal. That and the outline of his cock jumping a bit under the loose fabric of his Nike running pants.

The alpha walks over to you again, his eyes trained on you like a lion once more as he stops in front of you. He leans down, smacking your hands away from your sex as he slides his arm around the center of your back, hoisting you up and out of your chair with that arm while the other comes up to support you by holding your ass. He gives it a squeeze, followed instantly by a loud smack.

“I’m earning it.” The man carries you to the other side of the desk with ease, laying you back on the wooden surface with one pillow beneath your head, and the other slid underneath your tailbone.

He kneels, his face level with your cunt nosing the soft patch of hair above your sex before moving his mouth further down, kissing the puffy lips of your cunt before he dips in his tongue, sucking and licking the swollen bud with a fervor you assumed was isolated in those last few hours he’d been in his rut. Part of your brain thanks the gods you were wrong.

“More, Ryo,” you cry, the sensations shooting up your spine like little shocks, tingling along the nerves branching off from the bones. Your orgasm comes up to the surface again so quickly, right on the edge of your tongue when the alpha pulls away, landing a firm swat against your pussy when you whine. “What the fuck!” you groan, your mouth falling slack in confusion.

He chuckles, moving his head to kiss your inner thighs. “Be patient. I’m proving a point.”

“You’re such a dick,” you snicker, lacing your hand through his hair to tug harshly on the pink locks, drawing his attention back up to your eyes. “Make me cum, and maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”

Sukuna didn’t respond to that verbally, but the glint in his eye made your flushed skin shiver.

Your head knocks back down towards the desk when he places his tongue back onto your clit — flicking the tip just how you like until that same burning heat is back, licking at the core of your stomach from within. He inserts his fingers, adding more stimulation that turns the flame into a fever pitch of pleasure that nearly drives you over the edge. But, it doesn’t, because he pulls away again. “Sukuna,” you whine, aching for release.

Your skin burns — the surface warm and wet with sweat while crackles of electricity run haywire underneath. You feel him laughing against your skin where he’s kissing you, notably not where you need him to be, and you feel something within you snap.

“Fine,” you challenge, sitting up enough to stretch your arm upwards, feeling around inside the moving box not far from your head. You find what you’re looking for instantly since it was right on top where you’d left it. “It’s the 21st-century love, I can do it myself.”

You click the vibrator’s “on” button making the skinny, finger-length, textured bullet hum to life. The alpha's eyes grow wide as you trail the device down your stomach, getting it all the way down to the top of your slit before the alpha catches your wrist, a low growl rumbling from the depth of his chest.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he says, raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you say, breathless and impossibly turned on.

His eyes grow darker — the characteristic persian red looking more like the finest Chateau Margaux red wine. The vibrator is swiftly plucked from your hand, though the man doesn’t turn it off or put it away like you thought he might. No, instead, he runs the toy down the valley of your folds, not stopping his descent until the toy is pressed against the slick-slippery hole below your cunt. “Say yes or no,” he coaxes, his voice frighteningly deadpan.

“Jesus,” you jump, your hips bucking against his forearm that’s placed against your lower belly as the vibrations flow through you. “I — I haven’t done it t-that way since —”

“I know baby,” he coos, not pushing the toy any further but not pulling it back at all either. “That was in the heat of, well… your heat. Say no and I’ll stop.” The vibrations from the soft touch echo into your pussy, just barely kissing the tips of the nerves that go up to the button that craves the alpha's touch.

You nod, a firm, “yes,” escaping your lips before your mind has time to process it. A smirk crosses his face then as he moves, running soothing circles with his fingers on your hips as the the toy pushes forward — breaching the puckered hole easily before stopping at the slightly flared base.

“Good girl,” Sukuna coos, untying the little band of fabric keeping his pants snug on his waist as he lowers his face again, this time not teasing at all with the precision of his tongue on your clit. He slips his fingers back into your walls, massaging the inside in tandem with the vibration pattern of the toy in your ass. The toy’s placement inside you — only separated from your cunt by a thin layer of muscle — sparks gleam behind the lids of your eyes.

Your mind goes blank — only Sukuna and the tangled mess of your scents bleeding into the symphony of pure bliss resounding in your brain. “Ryo,” you cry, gripping the back of his hair with your hand, keeping him fixed in place with his tongue flicking with fervor against your clit. He hums, sucking the bud into his mouth while his tongue keeps the same motion. He adds suction, physically coaxing the pleasure from your core. “God. I — I… please don’t, again,” you cry, your words a jumbled mess as the heat turns to open flame beneath the tight knot settled in your belly, growing larger and taller until it’s burning the rope, puffing up angrily as the band melts away, singed and weak as the coil snaps and a wave of relief pours over you like summer rain — warm and wet with remnants of the fire.

You cross your feet at the ankles, keeping them firm around the man's back as your orgasm washes over your body, radiating from the crown of your head down to your toes. The vibration of the toy is still going, and his fingers are still plunging inside of you, even as the waves settle down and the lightness in your head starts to feel grounded again.

“Too much,” you whisper, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head when Sukuna puts his mouth back on you, sucking — albeit more gently — at the throbbing, overstimulated, bud.

The alpha hums, using his thumb to turn off the vibrator as he stills his hand, though his mouth stays in place for a few more seconds, sucking your clit slowly to keep it engorged and sensitive before he moves, taking off his shirt to expose his toned abs. “Keeping your promise?” he asks, licking your essence from his lips.

You smile, grabbing your knees to spread your legs apart, exposing yourself fully for the alpha. “Take me however you want me. You earned that,” you say, a coy smile on your lips as he scoffs, understanding the implication in your words.

“Okay,” he says, jutting out his chin a bit as he nods his head, standing up straight and grabbing your shins, “we’ll see how long that little attitude lasts.” You look down, pleased to see his cock out and standing at attention as he grabs it, fisting the length and giving it a few tugs before pushing himself up against your entrance. He removes the toy and tosses it back to land on the blanket — then, he’s in you, filling you up and forcing the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck, Sukuna. So — god, you’re big,” you groan, your pussy squeezing around him as you adjust to the length. It had only been a few days since the last time you’d had the older man inside of you. You weren’t as tightly wound as your body could be, but he was an alpha — a very well-endowed alpha. The only reason he hadn’t been so hard to take during your heat, your first time, was because — well, your body was ready for it on a biological level. Your omega body was made to fit and accommodate whatever size your alpha presented with. Still, he was blessed in the width department more than the length (though that was perfect as well) so it took a moment to relax enough for him, even as turned on as you were and no matter how many times you’d done this before during your week together.

Calloused hands rub up and down the back of your thighs soothingly, kissing your legs in the spots he could reach while you panted, placing your hand on his lower abdomen to prevent him from moving (even though he wasn’t making any move to do so yet). “If you can’t take it this way we can move, bunny. Don’t force it.”

You look up into his eyes, still deep and dark but with a soft edge to them that looks so childish on his otherwise sharp features. You try to relax more, shimming your hips this way and that to see if any slight movements can make the position more manageable, but it doesn’t. “Fuck,” you huff, wiping your hands down your face, “I think I need to move.”

Sukuna chuckles, sliding his hands under your back to scoop you up into his strong arms, the tip of his length still inside of you as he carries you over to the blanket in front of your couch. “On top or from the back?” he asks, gently wiping his hand through the sweat-damp hair sticking to your face.

“Back,” you grin, kissing him as the alpha lowers your bodies down to the floor. He sits you down, pulling you into a searing kiss as he lowers himself down to his knees. One of the pillows he’d taken earlier is handed to you as you scoot backward towards the couch — not stopping until your back hits the upholstery. Your hands find the sides of his face, holding him close to keep him kissing you as you turn around to bend over the cushioned edge of the furniture. He adjusts with your body, turning his head to the side to keep your lips connected as he slides up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other rests on the couch in front of you — level with your breasts. He pinches your erect nipples as you wiggle the pillow beneath your knees, giving you more leverage against the alpha’s tall height, and keeping the poor bones there from getting sore too quickly.

“I want you,” you purr, slowly fucking yourself back on the tip of his cock as the stretch transitions to pleasure, and the slight sting from his length holding you open blossoms into warmth. “Please Ryo.”

Sukuna pouts, sliding his cock into you slowly until his hips are flush against your ass. “Ryo… Ryo… Ryo,” he tsks, tilting your chin up so he can look at your eyes, “am I making you feel good bunny?” he asks, his voice sounding too firm for the words to be a question. "Good enough for you to be a good little omega and submit for me?"

You nod your head yes — the weight from the edging and the burn left wilting on your skin in the race towards another release making your resolve wain. All thoughts of stubbornness level your brain as you crane your neck more, coaxing the alpha — your alpha — back in with a kiss. He moves his hand away from your breast to grip your jaw — sliding his hand down to your throat again which stops your movements. Red eyes bore into yours, asking for your permission and accepting your consent when you nod, grabbing the alpha's wrist gently as he increases the firmness of his hold on your neck. He kisses you then, letting pressure go then applying it again on your throat as he starts to move against you, fucking into you torturously slowly as the blood flow is tampered with in your brain.

“More,” you moan, using a lull in pressure to sigh out the word, pushing your own hips back to fuck yourself harder on his cock. “I can take more, alpha.”

He groans into your ear, readjusting your bodies just enough for his leverage to change, and he lets go. His hips snap against your ass, fucking his cock into you so deep and hard that tears form on your waterline from the sudden increase in stimulation. His length rubs every inch of your insides — the alpha towering over you fucking into you with a precision that shouldn’t be possible with so much girth inside your slick walls. The angle of his hips is perfectly fixed towards the sensitive spot within you and the lack of oxygen just adds to the stimulation. You nearly pass out when he moves his hand down between your body and the couch, placing his digits there to toy with your clit.

“So fucking wet and tight baby,” Sukuna moans, a low groan that sounds more like a growl in his throat coming out as he uses his knee to push yours out, opening you up a little more for him, “Fuck, your pussy’s so perfect. Tight and hot and so—so fucking wet angel. Just for me.” His hand relaxes enough to give you air again, and the blood rushing back to your head triggers the same sensation in your cunt.

“A—Alpha,” you sputter, your eyes shut tight as you freefall into the pool of pleasure Sukuna has built for you. The edging made your clit so sensitive; more sensitive and responsive than you’d ever felt before your heat — before you’d first let Sukuna have his way with your body, and you, his. “Feels so good. God, you fuck me so good. No one else w—will ever have me like this. Just you, alpha. Ryo.”

A low sound — unmistakably a growl — rumbles in his chest and the speed of his hips increases. The alpha fucks you like he wants to imprint himself into your cunt forever, to mold you around him so no other man would ever have a chance of feeling you the way he does. He lowers his head to the scent gland nestled at the base of your neck — a harmless little spot that meant nothing in regards to mating but served as a landmine for scenting — and he bites, drinking down the strong scent of peaches and white wine that radiates from it.

“Oh!” you cry, the orgasm sneaking up on you with a punch that knocks the air from your lungs again, even more than Sukuna’s hand had been capable of around your throat, and the tears fall — hot and wet as the two trails travel down your cheeks. “It’s yours! Fuck, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

Sukuna groans against your neck as your walls cinch tight around his cock, milking it for all he’s worth as his orgasm washes over him as well. You feel his cock twitch harshly inside of you, fucking you full of his cum that mingles with the flood of slick dripping from your cunt. “Fuck, bunny,” he moans, rubbing his hand along your jawline as his kisses pepper your skin. “You’re amazing. So smart, and kind, and beautiful. Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He kisses your hair, wrapping his body around you — essentially hugging you from behind — as his high descends down towards the baseline again, and you get pulled down to the blanket with him — both of you cuddled up on your sides.

You let him stay inside of you as you lay together, catching your breath and kissing as his cock weakly spurts the last of his seed in you. Eventually, you find yourself glancing at the clock on the wall, lazily tracing little figure-eights on Sukuna’s arm as you count the arms to read the time. “Hey,” you whisper, looking over your shoulder at Sukuna. The alpha’s eyes are shut, though you can tell he’s still awake. His cock is half-hard inside of you, twitching as if the length could be enticed into another round.

“Yes?” he says, smirking as he curls up closer to you, kissing you deeply.

You find yourself smiling against his lips as he pushes your hair out of your face, dotting your cheeks and your nose and your eyes with little pecks as well. “Sukuna, we gotta go.”

His eyebrows furrow, looking down at you like you’d grown a second set of eyes. “Rushing out on me already baby?" he teases, pouting his lip dramatically like you'd truly hurt the alpha's feelings. "Damn. Here I was thinking we’d go have a nice dinner, maybe even get a dessert, but you’re already doing the morning after dash... while we’re still on the night of! You wound me,” he says, putting his hand over his heart as if it will alleviate the pain, scrunching his face like you’d kicked a puppy in his presence.

You roll your eyes, kissing him again through your little laughs. “No, dumbass. It’s already after 9:00. Yuki, or Todo — depending on how their shift switch went — will be doing rounds in a bit. I’d rather not have them see my tits or their boss’s dick. I think they’d have a hard time respecting either of us after that.”

He chuckles, removing himself from your body to sit up on the blanket, extending his hand to pull you up with him. “Oh, that. You’re right, maybe we should head out of here. What about your stuff?” he asks, motioning towards your desk.

You giggle, getting up with a wobble in your step as you approach the desk, removing each drawer and dumping the remaining contents into the moving box you’d left on the already cleared surface, putting a haphazard layer of tape over the top. “There, done,” you grin, sliding your discarded clothing back on as you move around the room. “All my other stuff is in the conference room for the movers to grab in the morning and I’m sure they have their own stuff to move the couch. I’m all set.”

The alpha nods, siding on his own clothes and grabbing one more box — the last, actually — from the floor by the door, using it to quickly pack all of your couch accessories for you as you hop on top of your desk.

He approaches you, slotting himself between your dangling legs, kissing you once more — softer, slower — before Sukuna pulls away, grabbing your hands in his own and bringing them up to his chest. “One chapter closed. On to the next one, huh?” he says, glancing sideways to motion at the room.

You know he means more than just the room — it’s the job. It’s your entire life under him in your career coming to an end, but you’re on to bigger and better, hopefully equally as fulfilling, things. With new friendships, and a new role for Ryomen in your life all leading you into the next portion of your adulthood.

“You know something I’d love to write into this next chapter for myself?” you say, wrapping your arms around the alpha’s shoulder, scenting him as you rest your chin against his chest.

He looks down at you with those soft persian colored eyes, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. “What’s that?”

“I’d love to go to dinner, if you were being serious. Just us two — getting to know each other better, “learning each other” as you put it, sounds like fun. I —”

“Think this could be something good?” he says, flashing his pretty white teeth at you as you smile, nodding your head in agreement before pulling him down to kiss him again, this time with more heat.

You feel his cock harden to fullness against your inner thigh, and a small moan escapes your lips as you lower your hand to palm the length. The noise of the elevator dinging draws you both out of your little bubble, making both of you turn towards the door, then each other with a look of humored panic on your faces.

“How about we decide on that restaurant in the car?” he suggests, loosening his grip on your hips.

You hum, grabbing his waistband and pulling his crotch against yours before the alpha can move away from you. “Maybe we stop by your place first and finish this, then we go to dinner?” you tease, your voice and scent dripping with arousal again at the sight of his cock.

The elevator dings again, this time emitting a longer chime that means it’s stopped on your floor. He grins, kissing you deeply before lifting you off of the desk, grabbing the moving boxes for you, and sliding them into the conference room housing your other things just outside the door.

“Ready when you are bunny,” he says, grabbing your hand as you walk out of the office together, your gift box and your bag the only things you’re carrying.

You linger in the doorway for a moment, looking over the interior before you turn to Sukuna, a sad smile on your lips. You sigh, sitting down your bag and dropping his hand to open the gift box, taking out the tequila bottle and accompanying shot glasses to pour a shot for both of you.

Sukuna takes a glass from you, helping you balance the large alcohol bottle by holding up the bottom end as you top off the drinks.

“Okay,” you sigh, thinking over your words for a moment before deciding. “To new beginnings, and the start of something great,” you grin, tapping your glass against the alpha’s when he agrees, knocking back the smooth shot of liquor with ease.

“To new beginnings, and earning your love.”

thank you for reading! if you'd also like a piece commissioned, head over to my ko-fi to check out my deals & commission terms ₍₍ ◝(●˙꒳˙●)◜ ₎₎ crossposted on ao3: here || taglist request || network tags: @anime-central @cursedarchiveblog @hanayanetwork

#sukuna x reader #alpha sukuna #sukuna smut #afab!reader #fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #kk.writes #kk.naughty #kk.jjk #cursed.archive #cw overstimulation #cw asphyxiation

390 notes · View notes

nataliaphantomhivesblog · 3 years

Text

Corruption & Trust

Stormbringer and bsd spoilers in general ahead so read at your own risk!!

So in this post I will be listing all the times Chuuya used corruption and all the times Dazai was there to stop it. I will also go into depth as to why Chuuya trusts Dazai when it comes to having to use corruption and I will also emphazise on Dazai's care and how he takes corruption seriously.

1. First time using corruption: Stormbringer

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 16 yrs old

"Isn't it an unpleasant sight, Chuuya."

It was a young boy. This young boy casually caught hold of Chuuya's arm and lifted it up. With this movement, the gravitational field which had occured around them disappered immediatly. As well as Chuuya’s agony.

"Y...You..."

"You can't even die gracefully can you?" the young boy said in a raspy voice as he heaved Chuuya on his shoulders. He set off to walk.

Alright so this was the first time Chuuya's corruption was ever activated, after Dazai nullifies it and carries Chuuya on his back, he drops him off outside the bar were Chuuya's friends lay dead. He took him there instead of taking him directly to the port mafia quarters.

Why did he do that exactly? If Dazai doesn't care for Chuuya, then why did he give Chuuya the opportunity to pay farewell to his dying friends?

It's actually sort of funny because I don't really think Dazai really realizes or accepts that he feels a certain connection with Chuuya and therefore looks after him.

2. Second time using Corruption: Stormbringer

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 16 yrs old (obviously, its still the same light novel lol)

After losing his strength, Chuuya drifted in the air for a few seconds, then lost the black wings on his back and slowly fell.

Dazai caught his body.

From the spot where Dazai touched, the nulification skill was activated.

The self-contradictory skill that supports the energy of the singular point receded, and the output of the singular point decreased. Eventually, it converged and the "gate" closed. The red imprints disappeared from Chuya's whole body. Eventually, the gravitational field disappeared and the complete silence was restored.

“Good job, Chuuya." Dazai chuckled, looking at Chuuya he was holding in his arms. "I forgot to bring my ink pen, so I'll spare you from having your face scribbled."

As much as it looks like this is from a fanfiction, I can assure you that it's an actual passage from stormbringer.

I can't really say much except the fact that Dazai is being extremely soft here.

And this was the conversation Dazai and Chuuya shared beforehand:

"There is one problem." Dazai cut off his sentence hesitantly. "It has nothing to do with the sucess rate of the plan. It is a matter we have to overcome in the end but... It may require some time to decide."

"What's with you?" Chuuya raised his eyebrows at Dazai. "Stop dramatizing it. Just hurry up and say it."

"I said earlier about this control spell to open the 'gate' that is used to reset the command inside Chuuya, right?" Dazai spoke with a strangely restrained voice. "If we use that, the logs of the command formula that were written in the past will be erased. That means...even if the memory erasure was used on Chuuya in the past, the traces of that will be erased as well."

"What?"

"I told you before right? the memory erasure command. The only way we can confirm if Chuuya is human or not is to check the history to see if the memory erasure command was ever used. It means..." Dazai looked at Chuuya with eyes that he had never looked at him before. Those eyes were serious. "If we use that control spell, the method to confirm if Chuuya is an artificial personality created by a string of code, or just a normal human being, will be lost. For good."

The time had stopped.

Chuuya opened his eyes and looked towards Dazai but his eyes were not seeing anything. The wind blew between the two of them. Even so, Chuuya did not blink.

"Verlaine became like that because he was tormented by the curse that he was not human. That only is enough of a big problem. The matter of being human or not." Dazai looked at his pocket watch, gave it a glance and continued. "I can delay the time until the plan starts for about two minutes. I will send an order for my men to wait... You can think about it alone for a while. Cuz I guess its hard for you to collect your thoughts with me around."

Having said so, Dazai turned away and walked down the stairs, leaving Chuuya alone.

Dazai fixated in his pocket watch. Two more minutes. Too short for a life decision. But he couldn't afford more than that.

Inside Dazai's head, he was planning a procedure to swith to an alternative plan in case Chuuya refused, at a tremendous speed.

After this exchange, Chuuya does decide on using corruption. I have talked about this section on a previous post of mine, and I just love it so much. For starters, I think this conversation that these two shared is very important to their characters.

For Chuuya, it shows us how undeniably selfless he is. He would rather save the people of Yokahama instead of finding out something that meant a lot to him. He sacrificed his own desires to save the people he cares about.

For Dazai its a completely different story, in this exchange Dazai was able to openly express genuine concern for his partner. He also understands the gravity of the decision Chuuya has to take and therefore leaves the decision up to him.

Third time using corruption: Dragon's Head Conflict

Chuuya and Dazai' s age: 16 yrs old

During this one, Chuuya demands to know where his friends are, and Shibusawa says all six of them killed themselves after being caught. Enraged, Chuuya activates Corruption which ultimatley ended the 88 day conflict.

There isn't much to say about Dazai and Chuuya here since there isn't really an aftermath on this occasion but I bealive this picture is enough.

Before reading the DA manga, I genuienly thought that the only time Chuuya ever rested on Dazai's lap was when they were 22 but this proved me wrong.

I mean this is a minimal thing to point out but if Dazai disregarded Chuuya he would've just left him there, right? But instead he remained with Chuuya and allowed him to rest on his lap, in the picture you can also see he is putting Chuuya's hat back on. It's such a simple gesture but it shows us how caring Dazai can be when it comes to Chuuya using corruption.

Fourth time using corruption: Lovecraft Battle, Double Black reunion

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 22 yrs old

This is personally one of my favorite times in which Chuuya uses corruption. The fact that these two had not been working together for 4 years yet they still managed to not only accomplish their mission, but mantain their trust for one another.

I find what Chuuya says here extremely ironic because if anything, the choice has always been up to him. Dazai always uses corruption as a last-resort trick and its always Chuuya who makes the final decision of using it or not, even in a life or death situation Dazai won't take it upon himself to force Chuuya to make the decision if they will be using it or not, and hes always willing to come up with an alternative plan in case Chuuya refuses. (an example of this is when Chuuya used corruption for the 2nd time in SB).

I think the reason as to why Dazai takes corruption extremely seriously is because during stormbringer he was the first person to even see Chuuya use corruption and also the person who understood how corruption will always be sort of like a burden to Chuuya, since it was thanks to corruption that his "am I human?" question stayed unanswered.

He knows how it feels to struggle with your own humanity and he doesn't want for Chuuya (who he literally sees as human), to hold that inner conflict with himself because of corruption.

Anyways, Chuuya decides to go through corruption trusting that Dazai will be there to nullify it.

And of course, Dazai does nullify it.

And after Dazai nullifies corruption, we get this very touching moment between both of them.

This is the first time Chuuya openly admits to trusting Dazai, although it was always evident that he trusts him, I just love how open he is being here.

Also the light punch he gives to Dazai's chest is such a sweet gesture, I see it as a silent way for Chuuya to say "I trust you because after all this time I still see you as my partner."

Dazai's smile in that small pannel is one of the most genuine expression we have gotten out of him. What he says is also a very sweet, I love that he calls him partner. The fact that these two are literally in rival organizations yet Dazai still calls him partner, it shows us that even after all these years he still can't help but see him the same way as he has always done.

Actually in Japanese he calls him "Aibou" and from my understanding, when you use the term Aibou it's for someone who you consider yourself to be close with. It means "partner" like in english but it holds a deeper meaning. If Dazai used the word "nakama" it would have been a very diffrent story since it means partner as well but it isn't used for someone you share a significant connection with. Asagiri's play with words here says a lot.

Fifth time using corruption: Dead Apple

Chuuya and Dazai's age: 22yrs old.

Of course I have to talk about one of the most iconic moments in the history of Soukoku.

Chuuya uses corruption to save Dazai, even if Ango says that he's dead for sure. Something I find very intresting here though is that Chuuya screams for Dazai while he is on corruption, he is obviously not supposed to be self concious about the whole situation, while on Corruption clearly he is not supposed to be in sane state of mind, as we all here know, Chuuya loses control and does not have the track of reality while under his own ability but this time, while using corruption, the one and only thing that was on his mind was "Dazai."

It wasn't only Chuuya who entrusted his life to Dazai, Dazai too entrusted his life in Chuuya's hands. When Dazai came up with this plan, he was more than certain that Chuuya was going to save him. And I think a tumblr blog pointed this out but when Chuuya uses curroption, he cannot control his strength, but when he had to punch Dazai he did it lightly, which is strange considering he was using curroption and it would've made a lot more sence if Dazai ended up decapitated due to being punched by a literal god. Dazai had to have faith in the fact that Chuuya will somehow be able to control corruption, even if its just a little bit.

Afterwards when Chuuya manages to rescue Dazai, Dazai gently touches his cheek to nullify corruption and greets him with, "You used Corruption believing in me? I am so touched I could cry." Chuuya groans, and replies that yes he did, that he believed in his disgusting vitality and craftiness.

When they both fall to the ground, Dazai forces Chuuya to rest in his lap because he didn't want to have to protect him from this situation since the fog is still up and Chuuya himself is all worn out and wouldn't be able to fight. But heres the thing, both Chuuya and Dazai's abilities can't be seperated by the fog. I mean Dazai's ability is nulification so it basically cancels out, and Chuuya hosts a literal god inside him so it isn't really an ability if you know what I mean.

So in reality, Dazai just wanted Chuuya to rest. Dazai could've literally just left Chuuya in the fog if he was only using him for his goals, but he was genuienly appreciating Chuuya's trust in him. The way Dazai's hand is resting on Chuuya's hair is a nice gesture too, he is greatful for him and he is moved that someone trusts him, it is shown throughout the Fifthteen and SB light novel that no one trusted Dazai and how most were afraid to even approach him. And in the ADA, everyone is somewhat warry around him (excluding Atsushi ofc). But Chuuya literally puts his life on the line trusting that Dazai will always be there to save him. He trusts him greatly and Dazai knows that, and I think its pretty clear to us that he would never want to break that trust.

The fact that Chuuya trusts Dazai even after he left the Port Mafia without an explanation or goodbye shows us how strong their bond is. Chuuya most likely trusts Dazai because deep down he knows that he isn't using Chuuya's ability out of his own selifshness, a part of him is aware that Dazai uses corruption as a last resort but he just doesn't want to admit it, and I feel like he also trusts him subconciously because of how gentle Dazai is after Chuuya uses corruption.

I really hope we get to see more of these "corruption moments" because in all honesty, these moments are the ones that bring out the most vulenrability for both characters. The moment corruption is used, we see the inmeasurable amount of trust and care these two have for each other that they won't show in other situations. During these times it always shines a very open and bittersweet light on their bond and I love it so much.

1K notes · View notes

slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

First question why are you so awesome? Xo second I know you wrote a request similar post with the slashers encountering people who ask " are you going to hurt me " but what about the slashers s/o who ask them are you going to hit/ stab me?

The Slashers reacting to their S/O asking “Are you going to hit me?”:

Thomas Hewitt

Arguments with Thomas are rare and he hates the thought of ever scaring you. However, now that he just needed you to leave the basement, he was starting to get a little intimidating.

He was standing in front of you, glaring down at you. Like he was trying to threaten you.

“What are you going to do, Tommy? Stab me?” It just slipped out, whether you actually felt threatened by him or if you were just being sarcastic.

It was only then that he even realised he was holding a butcher knife in his hand. He certainly hadn’t meant to threaten you like that!

His gaze drops to the blade before looking at you again, his gaze softening instantly.

No...no, of course he wasn’t going to do that. Did you really think that was something he could ever do to you?

He still makes you leave the basement and he starts to avoid you. Had he scared you? Did you really think he could hurt you? Did you think that he would hurt you? That’s exactly what he never wants you to think of him. All the more proof that he doesn’t deserve you, that he is a monster.

Even though he is avoiding you, he wants to make it up to you. He wants to apologise, even if you don’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But of course that’s not the case. You didn’t really think he was going to hurt you, you just wanted to point out how stupid he was being for attempting to intimidate you into leaving in the first place. You hadn’t meant to upset him but you knew exactly what he was thinking about himself now.

Neither of you were even remotely angry anymore, so when he attempts to apologise for the argument and for ever scaring you, you instantly accept the apology and forgive him. Promising him that you know that he’d never hurt you and that you’re sorry for even suggesting it.

He instantly accepts it when you embrace him, giving him a kiss. He loves you and you’ve assured him that you love him, that you’re not afraid of him.

He’s just going to feel bad about it for a while. With enough love and reassurance, he’ll be back to his usual self in no time.

Michael Myers

When Michael was in a bad mood, you knew it was best to leave him be but you didn’t, which is how you ended up where you were now. Having been back up into a corner with your murderous boyfriend standing inches away from you, glaring down at you with his knife in his hand.

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ve always wanted too, right?” you were trying to talk back to him, trying to act unfazed, but you were afraid. He could hear it in your voice, and see it in your eyes.

Your question catches him off guard, brings him crashing right back down to reality.

He was scaring you. You thought that he wanted to kill you, that he was going to kill you.

Now he’s furious again but for a whole new reason. He shoots you another glare, how dare you make him feel this way, before storming out of the house.

Whether he’s going to kill someone to release some rage, or just go somewhere to cool off, you’re not sure. But you take the time to collect yourself and calm yourself down.

Michael is away for a while, you might even be able to get in a good amount of sleep before he returns.

And when he does return, he’s even scarier than when he was mad. Because now he is deadly calm.

You watch him carefully. Was this really the time he was going to kill you?

He takes off his mask, making your eyes widen even more. It wasn’t the first time, far from it, but considering the circumstances you thought he would stubbornly keep it on.

The truth is that, yes Michael has likely had the urge to kill you before but only because it’s all he knows. When he feels a strong emotion, it’s usually related to killing, but you elicit a strong emotion without that. So he linked the two from time to time, not recently though. Now the thought of killing you leaves a very bad taste in his mouth.

He doesn’t want to kill you, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s aware of who he is. So are you, and that’s why you had asked him the question in the first place.

You’re in for a real shock because, just for a short amount of time, your usually stoic Michael is about to become soft. Seeking forgiveness without having to apologise, trying to show you as casually as he can that he does care for you, that he will be the one to keep you safe, not the one to harm you.

Jason Voorhees

It was a joke. You had only meant it as a joke because you knew that Jason would never, ever, hurt you.

He had been out dealing with trespassers, and you had been out in the woods. He heard movement and thought it was a trespasser, but obviously it was just you. He hadn’t even come close to hurting you, he had only raised his machete, and you had laughed about being able to surprise him.

“Hey Jason. Are you going to kill me?” it was a joke! You were just playing around!

But Jason took it a little more seriously. It’s not that he can’t take a joke, it’s just that this plays on an insecurity of his.

He’s terrified about the possibility of you being afraid of him or thinking that he might hurt you.

You instantly see that it had upset him in someway, so you’re quick to assure him that you were only joking, that you know he would never hurt you and you aren’t worried that he would. Telling him that you love him and asking him if he’s finishes with the trespassers.

He hasn’t. So he sends you back to the cabin, where it is safe, and finishes up.

And when he returns home, you make sure to shower him with love and affection, making sure to prove that you never thought he would ever hurt you.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was having one of his tantrums and he wasn’t himself when he was like this. He would shout mostly, kicking off like a child not getting his way. At most, he’d accidently break something.

But this time he was being a little more aggressive. His hands flailing around before approaching you, making you instinctively step back until he had you pinned against the way. Now he was quiet, breathing heavily, eyes angry.

“What are you doing, Brahms?” you asked but he didn’t answer. “Are you going to hit me?” while he had never done so before, it definitely felt like that was what this was leading up too.

He’d be offended by the question. Of course he wasn’t going to hit you! So he’d just storm off.

Once he calmed down, your question would ring through his mind again. You had asked if he was going to hit you...you thought that he was going to hurt you...

Now he feels awful, he has scared you and you thought that he would hurt you when he got mad. He would never let himself do that.

He’s also very worried that you’ll be mad at him.

At the point, it was late, and you had gone to bed.

So, he’d creep in, scared of getting scolded by you. Cautiously climbing on to the bed and laying with you.

When he realises that you’re still awake, he’ll apologise and try to cuddle with you. When you wrap your arms around him, accepting the cuddle, he relaxes a little, holding you close as he mumbles apologies, promising that he would never hurt you, even when he’s really mad.

He relaxes even more when you press a kiss to his head, telling him that you already know that and that it’s alright.

Bo Sinclair

Bo has a bad temper. His brothers know that, you know that, and he knows that.

When he’s mad, he can be a little scary, but he’s never hurt you before and you never really feared that he would.

He was shouting, you had just so happened to be the first person he encountered while being in this mood. He had started walking towards you and you flinched. You didn’t like that you did, but you did...and he noticed.

He snapped at you, questioning why you were flinching.

You didn’t tell him but that only made him angrier, so you eventually asked. “Are you going to hit me?”

The question made him freeze. He was just standing there, staring at you.

He had never said never said anything and he will never confess this, but sometimes he did worry about hurting you. He has a bad temper, he knows that, and there has been times that he’s broken something or hurt someone. He doesn’t want to take that out on you.

He actually worries about accidently hurting you or scaring you, so your question bothered him more than he might let on.

However, this man can not apologise to save his life.

Instead, he’s going to storm off, giving himself a chance to cool off.

When he returns, he has calmed down and he’s pretty much acting like nothing happened.

But he’s being oddly...nice, for Bo.

It’s later when he brings it up again, he’s holding you, whether you’re in bed or sitting on the couch, and he decides that he should say something.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” it sounds oddly vulnerable coming from Bo. But you look up at him and nod, giving him a small kiss, letting him relax a little. He really does hope that you mean it.

Vincent Sinclair

It was a stupid argument. He had already been in a bad mood because of an argument with Bo. He hadn’t meant to take it out on you, of course he hadn’t, but he did. He’s already apologetic for that but your question made him even more apologetic for even more reasons.

“Were you going to hit me?” you asked and Vincent froze.

Any anger Vincent felt instantly disappeared. Oh God, he was so sorry.

He hadn’t meant to scare you, definitely never meant to make you think that he would ever lay a hand on you.

He’ll take a step back, giving you some space to prove that he never intended on hurting you.

It’s silent for a moment. Vincent not sure how to respond and you instantly regretting what you said. You already knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt you, you hadn’t even meant to say it.

It’s Vincent, of course he wouldn’t hurt you.

You’ll have to reach out to him first, he just doesn’t want to scare you.

You take his hand in yours, but before you can even finish apologising, he has interrupted you and started apologising instead.

You don’t have to apologise for asking that question, he should apologise for giving you a reason to ask it.

You’re instantly pulling each other into a hug. Vincent apologising and you telling him that you know that he would never hurt you and that you love him.

An argument has never ended and been forgotten so fast.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had been in town and had an argument with Bo, so when he came back he was already in a bad mood. He has taken it out on you and that had resulted in an argument with each other.

He had told you to get out of the way but you wanted to resolve this, so he raised his voice some more to get you to move.

“What are you going to do, Lester? Hit me?” you scoffed at him. Of course he wouldn’t, you knew that, but if he was trying to be threatening it wouldn’t work because you new he would never hurt you.

Lester didn’t interpret the question that way.

“No...no, of course I’m not going to hit you” it’s like you could see Lester’s anger just disappear.

Now he looked apologetic, hurt by the question. As if you could actually believe he would ever hurt you.

“Hey...I know. I know that” you assured him.

Just like that, everything was forgiven and forgotten. It wasn’t important anyway.

Lester just pulled you into a hug, sighing and apologising for starting such a stupid argument anyway. You assure him that it’s alright, hugging him right back, and apologising as well.

Both of you hated when you argued and he was going to make sure to make it up to you.

Bubba Sawyer

This man couldn’t do anything to make his s/o think he was going to hurt them. But since we’re here...

Bubba was having a bad day but he never ever meant to even remotely take that out on you. You had approached him from behind and tapped him on the shoulder.

He had assumed that you were one of his brothers so he turned around with a huff, giving you a sour look.

“You alright, Bubba? Look like you want to hit me or something” you chuckled but were actually worried about him.

It was obvious to you that you were only joking but it was less obvious to Bubba.

As soon as you even suggest that he could hurt you, Bubba’s mood changes.

Normally all it takes to cheer him up is seeing you and his mood had lightened when he saw you, but quickly dimmed at your joke.

He just doesn’t want you to consider that for even a second.

Bubba is quickly shaking his head, babbling with worry, as he pulls you into a hug.

But you’re quick to reassure him that you were only joking, promising him that you know he would never hurt you and apologising for even joking about it.

Well, his bad mood is over. Now he just want to show you some love.

Billy Lenz

It all happened when he was in one of his bad moods. He hadn’t gone off to calm down, so he was lashing out instead. Normally it was pretty harmless but this time he was getting a little scary. And when he just kept getting closer and closer, you got a little worried. He wasn’t himself when he was like this.

“Billy...are you going to hit me?” you always tried to remain as calm as possible when he was like this, and he normally tired himself out.

Your question could ground him pretty quickly, instantly making him realise how scary he was actually being.

Or he won’t actually process your question until later when he had calmed down.

But once he has processed what you said, he feels extremely bad about it. He doesn’t want to scare you and he definitely never wanted to hurt you.

When he’s figured out how to apologise, he’ll creep into the room. Being cautious, checking if you were mad at him or not.

“Y/n...are you mad?” now he’s the one who’s nervous. “I’m sorry, Y/n...Billy wouldn’t hurt you, not ever” he would sincerely apologise.

As soon as you forgive him or open your arms for him, he’ll jump at the opportunity, clinging to you.

He’ll keep mumbling apologising and promising he wouldn’t hurt you, feeling awful about having scared you, and upset that you would think that he could hurt you.

He’ll need some cuddles even if you don’t, so plenty of cuddles are in order.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

He had taken you to the hotel and you had accidently wandered into an area that was off limits, and Asa had grabbed your arm, dragging you out.

He was obviously mad, lecturing you on listening to him. He raised his hand (not with the intention of striking you or anything) and you noticed the blade that was still in his hand.

“Are you going to hurt me?” your gaze was locked on the weapon.

His brow furrowed in confusion before realising what you meant.

It’s not like he hadn’t ‘punished’ you in the past. Hell, he had even ‘hurt’ you but it was all in a pleasurable way. He wouldn’t just hurt you because you wandered into the wrong room. He wouldn’t just hurt you because you made him a little mad.

On one hand, he is oddly understanding. Yes, he is a dangerous man, he’s a killer and he’s sadistic about it. It makes perfect sense that you would be a little weary around him, especially when he’s in a bad mood or you are arguing.

On the other hand, he quickly realises that he doesn’t want you to fear him. He doesn’t plan on hurting you, he plans on taking care of you because he cares about you.

So, he sets out to fix it. Placing the blade down and letting out a sigh, calming down. He wasn’t even that mad at you, it was an accident, he was just trying to protect you from the dangerous rooms of the hotel.

He’ll genuinely apologise for scaring you, assuring you that he had absolutely no intention of harming you.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Jesse was usually so calm and collected, it was rare to see him so...angry.

Of course he didn’t say anything but he didn’t need too, everything about him was just radiating anger and frustration.

He had never given you a reason to fear him (with the exception of meeting him or finding out he is a killer) but you couldn’t help but be a little on edge with him acting like this.

You hadn’t even really meant the question, it was like an impulse, it just came out.

He had been ignoring you mostly because he was so pissed about something, but then he suddenly started approaching you.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you heard it at the same time he did, and it surprised you as well.

The thing that Jesse was so angry about was ‘work’ relation and he never had any intention on taking it out on you. But your question does make him think about the way he was acting, and he immediately regrets it all.

He really tries not to take it too heart, he was being intimidating and you asked an innocent question. Still, a part of him can’t believe that you would even ask such as thing.

He pauses and shakes his head, deciding against approaching you any further.

Yet, you seem...sympathetic of his annoyance, you even ask him if he’s alright, asking if there is anything you can do to help.

Jesse is going to spoil the hell out of you to make up for scaring you like that.

Otis Driftwood

Otis had been in one of his bad moods and it had led to an argument between you both.

Arguments with Otis can be pretty explosive, especially if you’re as stubborn and argumentative as he is.

“What? Are you going to kill me? I know you’ve thought about it” you asked, practically scoffing at him.

You hadn’t really meant it. You knew he wasn’t going to kill you or even hurt you, you were just trying to annoy him.

Oh it pisses him off, but completely throws him off at the same time.

Of course there had been a time where he had thought about killing you, as he thinks about killing most people, but he doesn’t always like to be reminded of that. He is well aware that if he had killed you in the past, it would be something he would regret deeply.

More importantly, he can’t believe that you could ask him something like that, that you could actually think he would hurt you now (even if it’s a perfectly reasonable assumption considering everything about him).

He’s not going to apologise, he’s just going to stomp off and ignore you for a while. Mostly because he doesn’t want to actually scare you by pushing you too far, knowing he needs some time to cool off, but also because he wants to go and take his anger out elsewhere.

Otis is terrible at apologising and will avoid doing it at all costs, including now. So, he tries to do it a different way.

Once he’s calmed down and you have too, he will return to you and instead of apologising, he’ll say something more along the lines of “I’d never hurt ya.”

And he’s oddly relieved when you tell him that you already know that.

Yautja (Predator)

The argument only happened because he was worried about your safety in the first place.

But he must have done something to scare you or give you a reason to think he was beyond angry with you.

“Are you going to hurt me?” the question was quiet but it was deafening to him.

Of course he isn’t happy about it but the question actually hurt him.

He knows that he is scary and he understands that, it had been why he was so cautious around you at the beginning.

But he thought you trusted him now, that you knew he would never hurt you. It breaks his heart that you don’t.

He doesn’t blame you for this at all. He must have done something that scared you or made you feel like he could hurt you, that was on him and he was determined to fix it.

He’ll do whatever it takes to show you that can trust him, being extra gentle with you and apologising for scaring you.

And when you apologise, telling him that you know he wouldn’t hurt you, he insists that you don’t need to apologise for anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you do know that he won’t hurt you, if he hadn’t proved that before, he was proving it now.

The best way to prove to him that you trust him is to just wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to lift you off your feet, and kiss his cheek, telling him that you love him and trust him. Knowing that he will protect you and never hurt you.

3K notes · View notes

spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably.

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming.

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.”

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again.

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,” bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you.

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.”

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.”

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive.

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.”

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest.

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it.

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.”

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.”

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear.

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently.

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you.

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled.

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell.

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer.

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back.

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile.

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss.

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head.

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.”

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

607 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 3 years

Text

LOVINGLY| J.P.

Pairing: James x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1485 words

Warnings: none- just fluff, little short

Summary: James can’t sleep so the reader spends the night with him on the couch, cuddling and talking until he falls asleep in her arms.

“James?” I almost whisper as I stumble down the stairs to the common room, wiping at my eyes to assist me in waking up. James hums lightly from somewhere in the room and I let out a gentle sigh before whispering a spell under my breath to light all the candles in the room. I smile softly when my eyes land on the sight of James sitting upright on the sofa, hands folded over a closed book as he looks back at me. “What are you doing down here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He informs me, throwing the book to the other side of the sofa as he watches me pull down his t-shirt to cover myself. “I was moving around like crazy, I didn’t want to wake you,” he tells me, reaching a hand out towards me as I still in front of him. “Come here,” He asks softly, smiling slightly as our hands touch and he gently pulls me to sit down next to him.

“I wouldn’t have mind,” I say to which he offers a mere hum in reply, hand snaking around my waist as he pulls me against him. “You worried about The Order?” I ask, moving a hand to his chest as he nods lightly. “Oh, baby…” I muse, moving to rest my head against his shoulder, the action and the words earning me a small smile before his face slips back to a worried, mindless glare.

“We’re not ready,” He comments lowly, shaking his head as he leans back against the sofa. “I don’t think we ever really could be,” He adds and sighs as he closes his eyes.

“I know,” I say, fingers fiddling with his shirt, he opens his eyes to watch my movements. “But I also know that you worrying yourself like this won’t help,” I inform him simply, tone soft as I look up at him. “You need to rest, my love,” He hums again, acknowledging my words, yet clearly not taking them in. “What can I do?” He shuffles lightly to adjust himself, hand gripping me tightly to stop me from leaving.

“Just be here,” He begins, fingers delicately moving up and down over the exposed skin of my arm, shivers tickling through my body as a result. “Just keep talking to me,” He closes his eyes again, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Your voice calms me,” He explains and I’m grateful that his eyes are closed as I blush.

“Should I tell you about my day?” I ask and he nods, pulling me closer still. “I stayed up too late last night and overslept, so I was late for Transfiguration,” I begin, and he smiles, knowing that he had gently commanded me to go to bed at least twice the night in question. “So of course, I missed breakfast and had to rush to class. However, when I got there, Minnie was handing out essays and I bumped right into her and the remaining essays in her hands fell to the floor in a big mess,” I say, shaking my head as his smile grows. “It was chaos, which is why she has me tutoring her first years for the next week,” I explain even more as I feel his breathing slow down the tiniest bit, making me smile in response.

“What else?” He asks, voice slow as he starts drifting and I cuddle closer to his side, placing my chin on his chest to stare up at him.

“I stopped at my dorm on my way here, brought you some of those muggle chocolate bars that you like so much,” His interest is peaked as he opens his eyes to look at me.

“Really?” He questions sheepishly, eyes twinkling, I simply hum in response, watching as he ponders over the new information.

“Stay here,” I instruct with a small laugh, smiling sympathetically when he reaches out to stop me from leaving his side. “I’ll be right back, baby” I tell him with a nod, footsteps padding against the floor as I fetch the chocolates from the pocket of my robe which I had haphazardly thrown onto one of the chairs a few hours ago. He grins widely when I step back into view, sitting down next to him and pulling my feet under me as I remove the wrapper of the chocolate bar.

“Hmm,” James muses lightly as I pull the bar away from his mouth, taking a bite as well while he chews. “Delicious,” he tells me, tilting his head as he watches me carefully, taking another small bite when I hold the bar in front of his mouth, and I can’t fight the blush that creeps to my cheeks while I almost squirm under his attentive gaze.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask which simply makes him smile, a hand lifting to wipe some chocolate from my lips.

“Like what, my love,” He questions amused and I almost combust at the little pet-name, which is probably exactly why he used it, no doubt, as he very rarely does. He nimbly drapes his hand over my knee, sparing me a quick wink as he slowly takes another bite from the chocolate.

“Naughty,’ I groan, slapping his chest lightly as he continues to stare me down, the gesture emitting a soft laugh from his tired lips, the sound making my own shyness slip away.

“Like what?” He asks me again, crumbling the rapper and throwing it to the floor, shrugging when I give him a disapproving glare, not at all serious as I move my hand to his, lifting it from my knee to entwine our fingers. I shake my head, looking at our hands instead. “Answer me, please,” He commands lightly, and I roll my eyes before meeting his gaze.

“Lovingly,” I note, and he hums, carefully leaning towards me.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asks me lightly and I raise a brow at him, eyes not daring to leave his in fear I’ll miss what he’ll say next. “I do love you, after all,” He announces softly, clearly, as my heart beats in my throat.

“You haven’t said that before,” I note, mouth tilting into a happy smile as I watch him for any sign of mock, just in case. “You mean it?” I ask softly, his eyes now jumping around the features of my face, stilling on my reddened cheeks which I make no attempt to hide as he pulls me closer.

“Yes,” He lifts a hand to my face, delicately clearing hair from his way before his fingers touch my skin. “I love you,” he says again, and my smile grows.

“I love you too.”

“I know,” He notes and rests his head against mine, gripping onto me. “You have the best way of showing it too,” He adds and we’re almost too close to really look at each other but I can tell he’s trying. “You are too good to me,” He offers hesitantly, and I pull back slightly.

“Don’t say that. ” I muse, sitting back completely, James’ hands reaching out to try and stop me. “You need to get some sleep, my love,” I command softly, the word seeming foreign having heard it from his lips instead of just mine. I move the book he was reading earlier onto the floor, pushing myself against the corner of the sofa, legs to the side to leave room for him. “Come on,” I instruct with a small smile as I extend my arms wide for him to come lay down on me.

He considers it for a second, brows raised as he looks me over before releasing a soft sigh and doing as he’s told. His motions are careful as he settles between my legs, arms around my waist as he gently nudges his head into the crook of my neck, I allow him a second to get comfortable before wrapping my arms around him as well, one hand on the back of his neck while the other tangles into his hair, softly fiddling with the dark tendrils as he mumbles incoherent groans against me.

“You’re too good to be true, Y/n,” he says, and I feel him smile before placing a soft kiss against my neck, our current position leaving no room for me to shy away from the gesture that usually leaves me a giggling mess. “My perfect girl,” He notes after a second and I can tell that he’s already starting to relax against me, breath faltering and eyes closing as I continue playing with his hair.

“My perfect boy,” I offer in reply, whispering as his grip tightens.

“Never leave me,” He almost demands, voice hazy as he opens his eyes. “You’ll never leave me?” His eyes meet mine and I nod quickly, pulling him down again as I kiss his forehead.

“Never,” I promise with certainty, smiling when his body relaxes against mine again, his eyes closing almost without permission as he sighs lightly. “I’ll never leave you, my love.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

#james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #hogwarts #hogwarts x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders

520 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo.

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy.

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships.

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate.

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?”

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise.

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum.

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed.

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks.

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.”

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you.

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is.

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support.

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle.

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this.

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway.

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you.

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck.

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal.

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw.

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.”

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him.

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it.

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought.

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble.

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later.

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again.

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding.

Both of you looked ridiculous.

“Stay away, fiend.”

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you.

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t.

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible.

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself.

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring.

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time.

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you.

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again.

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst.

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm.

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying.

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again.

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment.

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you.

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up.

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech.

“Suppose that’s two points for me?”

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something.

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him?

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know.

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again.

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

971 notes · View notes

thekingofwinterblog · 3 years

Text

It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi #endeavor #endeavour #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #character study #301 #meta

1K notes · View notes

wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Long Way From Home

Summary: Her arrival was an accident, but some blessings come in disguise.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 4,466

* * * * * *

A long heavy sigh falls from the doctor’s lips, his fingers nervously cleaning his glasses.“ I’m just not too sure about this Tony. Last time we experimented on an infinity stone we-”

“Were severely uneducated.” The billionaire replies, pulling his usual smirk as he looks at Bruce.“ We’re in the right league now. And we’ve got back up, just in case.”

A chorus of grumbles sounds around the lab, each member of the team a little less than happy to be here at the moment but also not willing to allow another Ultron situation.

Steve sighs, almost as heavily as Bruce did, and crosses his arm.“ Just be careful Tony. We’ll shut this down if need be.”

Tony raises his hands in a show of innocence and nods,“ don’t worry Capsicle, we’ve got it under control.”

With those words spoken, Tony nods to Bruce who commences the first test of the Space and Time Stones.

Everyone stands with bated breaths as the stones spin in their chambers. There’s a brief flicker of the lights as the stones pull on the energy from the compound, in the dark it’s hard to see the chasm of space that appears in the gap between Wanda and Natasha.

When the lights finally come back in the room of, now armed, superheroes they all cautiously take in their surroundings.

“Why do all these science experiments involve children?” Steve asks frustratedly.

Natasha frowns, tilting her head at him in confusion,“ Rogers what kid?”

The blonde man slowly lowers his shield and nods behind her. Frown deepening, Natasha slowly turns around, using every bit of her willpower to stop her jaw from dropping.

Standing a few feet shorter than her, is a little girl. Her eyes scan the girls body, searching first for any signs of injury and second for any clues as to how she got here. Instead of finding those things, Natasha discovers the child's very clear state of horror.

Glancing around at her family, some members of which are still holding weapons, Natasha understands how terrifying this must be to a kid.

Quickly disarming her widows bites, Natasha lowers herself to catch the e/c eyes of the red haired little girl. Smiling as softly as she can, the ex-assassin nearly whispers,“ hi.”

The single word pulls the girl’s attention from the big scary Avengers, to Natasha. A look flashes through the girl’s eyes and she almost instantly calms down. Looking from Natasha’s eyes down to her feet, the little girl plays with her fingers, mumbling,“ hi.”

Once again Natasha glances back at her team, catching sight of Steve, Bruce, and Tony talking over by one of the desks, Sam and Bucky’s confused glances over her way, and Wanda’s soft yet confused eyes on her as well.

Looking at Natasha, Wanda finds a slightly panicked look in the Russian’s eyes. Slowly walking over, Wanda assumes the same position as Natasha, squatting and looking at the little girl.

“Hi,” she speaks quietly, a soft smile on her lips,“ my name is Wanda. What’s yours?”

Shyly looking at Wanda, the little girl quickly averts her gaze back to Natasha. An uncertainty sits in her eyes that makes Natasha incredibly curious. It’s not as if she’s uncertain of Natasha, it’s almost as if she’s asking for permission.

“I’m Natasha.” She says, in hopes that the little girl will take that as an invitation to tell her name.

She does, once again playing with her fingers.“ My name is Katya.”

“Katya is a very pretty name.” Wanda tells her.

That gets the girl to smile, a light blush coating her cheeks,“ my mommy says it means pure.”

Natasha nods,“ it does.” What’re the odds that she has a name of Russian origin.

“Um, ladies,” a deep, clearly nervous, voice speaks up behind Natasha and all their eyes move to Steve.“ I think it’s best we all leave, let the scientists finish their work uninterrupted.”

Work, as in finding out where this girl just came from and how to send her back.

Nodding in agreement, the two women stand up and look down at the girl,“ come on Katya, we’re going to go find somewhere else to relax okay?”

Katya nods hesitantly.

While Bruce and Tony get to work on finding Katya a way home, the rest of the team works on making sure she feels safe and as comfortable as she can be in an unknown environment. Even though they have their own questions and concerns, they’re more worried about keeping the child in a peaceful state.

Unsure of where to take a child in the compound, Natasha just follows Wanda’s lead.

A moment of shock hits her hard when she feels a soft little hand slip into hers. She’s tempted to jump away from the touch but oddly enough, the instant she looks down into soft e/c eyes she relaxes a little, allowing the child to hold her hand as they walk through the compound. Until they all end up in the common room.

Just as they’re all sitting down, the glass doors open and Natasha elicits the hardest eye roll at the announcement of her last teammate's arrival.

“Honeys I’m home!” You playfully exclaim as you walk into the common room, arms spread as one hand holds your duffle bag.

Sam and Wanda’s faces light up at your presence, surprisingly so does Katya’s. All three of them hold bright smiles, Wanda popping up off the couch to run over to you, wrapping you in a hug.

Arm wrapped around her, you and Wanda walk back over to everyone. Sam jumps up to give you a one armed hug and you get waves from everyone, everyone except one person. The one person who seems to dislike you the most.

“What Romanoff, I don’t get a-” your words fall short as you look at the person beside Natasha. Eyebrows raised you glance around at everyone, taking in their calm expressions and realizing they all obviously know something you don’t.

Clearing your throat, you smile softly at the little girl.“ Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Katya!” She exclaims, making everyone raise their eyebrows. Natasha frowns at it though. The little girl had been quieter than a mouse since appearing here and yet your presence draws out such an enthusiastic response.

You smile brightly at her,“ Katya is a gorgeous name.”

“Mommy says it means pure.” She exclaims again, slightly quieter than before.

“That’s beautiful, It’s clear your mommy really loves you,” you tell her, then looking around at everyone again,“ where exactly uh, is she?”

Steve stands up and nods for you to step over to him. As you do so you feel the eyes of the little girl on you. Off to the side of the room, Steve explains the situation to you. Everything he knows for that matter. And you laugh a little.

Leave it to Tony and Bruce to bring a child from some random place and time in space to the compound in one of their experiments.

“No murder bots though.” You say, patting his shoulder, then turning to look over at the little girl at Natasha’s side.

Something in the way she looks at Natasha tugs on your intrigue. Even more so, you’re intrigued by the way Natasha is with her. It’s clear she’s a little out of her comfort zone but she’s still very soft with the girl, delicately speaking to her.

You and Nat haven’t been on the best of terms for years. At one point, when you were just an enhanced agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, you and Natasha would work seamlessly together. You considered yourselves friends and quite honestly loved spending time together.

When it all went downhill you aren’t entirely sure(and neither is she if she’s being honest) but things have been tense between you two ever since. Little things you do annoy her and for whatever reason you now find her closed off personality to be a bit much.

Shaking your head to clear the thoughts away, you cross your arms over your chest,“ so what’s the plan Cap?”

“Not sure entirely,” he sighs softly,“ for now it’s to keep the kid safe and as happy as possible till we can get her home.”

You nod,“ sounds good.” Clapping your hands lightly, you grab everyone’s attention,“ Katya, you got a favorite movie girly?”

She nods excitedly,“ Little Mermaid. She has red hair like me.”

“I think your hair is prettier,” Natasha says with a soft nudge to Katya’s arm that makes the little girl blush and say a quiet thank you.

“To the theater then.” You say, once again smiling at her.

Everyone agrees and they all stand and start down the hall to the theater(once team movie night began a set thing, Tony had the theater built).

On the walk over, you can’t help but notice how Katya remains close to Natasha, following the redhead’s every move, all the while continuing to glance back at you.

Admittedly, there’s an odd feeling that stirs in your chest when her bright e/c eyes look into your e/c ones. There’s an abundant amount of love and admiration in them that could melt the coldest of hearts. Why that emotion is in her eyes as she looks at you makes you wonder, but you’ve decided not to think too hard on that for now.

However that exact feeling bursts forth in this very moment.

As you’re preparing the popcorn machine, everyone assumes a spot in the room. The little girl sits right beside Natasha as Sam tries to entertain her while Clint goes to put the movie. How does a grown man get a ten year old girl to have fun?

He challenges her to an arm wrestle. Apparently.

“Come on Lil Bit,” Sam eases himself to the floor opposite Katya,“ show me what you got?” His teasingly playful smile accompanies his action of resting his elbow on the table.

Katya glances up at Natasha uncertainly, as if asking permission. The redhead’s face projects her surprise but she quickly reigns it in, smiling a little and saying,“ go ahead. It’s about time someone put Wilson in his place.”

Unexpectedly, the little girl turns her gaze to you. You can only imagine your expression resembles Natasha’s. Only to soften as you smile and nod.

That’s all it takes for her to go along with it. She scoots to kneel on the floor across from Sam. Placing her elbow on the table and locking her hand with the older man’s.

It’s overly amusing to see how intrigued everyone in the room becomes. Bucky and Steve seem to be commenting on the little game as if it were the World Series. Sam pulls his game face. And Wanda and Clint keep their eyes trained on the hands of Sam and Katya.

A three second countdown is spoken before they both tense up their arms and fight to win.

Not a single soul in the room is expecting the outcome.

In a split second, Katya gains the upper hand, and slams Sam’s arm through the glass of the table. Wide eyes stare on in completely silent shock.

Katya drops Sam’s hand and pushes herself up and away from the table.“ I-I,” you can tell what’s about to happen before it does and you move without a single thought.

Food forgotten, you now kneel in front of Katya, gently grabbing her arms.“ Hey it’s okay, it’s okay.” Teary e/c eyes look at you and you feel your breath snatched away.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers.

“It’s fine Katya. It was an accident,” you nod as if to convince her that it’s okay. It seemingly works as she nods as well.“ Are you hurt?” She shakes her head and you glance over at Sam.“ You alright Wilson?”

His face is still one of bewilderment but he nods,“ yeah, yeah I’m good.”

The whole room takes in the look on Katya’s face and it’s Steve that manages to break everyone’s frozen states.“ Kid’s got an arm.”

Wanda snorts first and it causes a ripple effect of laughs from the team. Slowly looking around at all of them, Katya’s tears dry up and she smiles softly.

You sigh inaudibly as she starts to laugh and funnily enough, when you look up, your relieved expression meets Natasha’s. There’s a slight moment between you two, your eyes locking as you share your relief over the little girl being okay. Whatever attachment you seem to have for the girl is obviously shared. But you also catch something else in her eyes, something that doesn’t have to do with the little girl.

However the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. You shake your head and focus on Katya.

Softly rubbing her arms, you smile at her and take her hand, guiding her back to the seat beside Natasha and she tugs on your hand,“ sit with me?” She asks.

And you nod without a thought of hesitation,“ just let me grab us some popcorn okay?” Nodding happily, she scoots back on the loveseat and looks at Natasha. They have a quiet conversation as you fix three small containers of popcorn. Holding them in your hands and going back over.

Even though it’s the smallest thing ever, Natasha makes a face of surprise when you hand her the popcorn after giving Katya hers. When she looks up at you, it’s like a smack in the face how similar she looks to the girl beside her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs and you nod dazedly.

It’s almost haunting to you how much they look alike. Katya’s eyes are e/c but that hair, her nose, even the shape of her eyes looks damn near exactly like Natasha. The thought sticks in your head throughout the entire movie, causing you to occasionally glance over at the little girl and Natasha.

About halfway through the movie, Katya falls asleep. Her body tilts towards you, her head resting on your arm as she sleeps quietly. Once everyone notices that the girl is asleep they start to leave out.

Steve’s first, and possibly only, thought is heading to the lab for an update from Tony and Bruce. Bucky and Sam are in the middle of a heated argument over Ariel’s decision to make a deal with Ursula. Clint left before the movie, having a wife and kids to get home to. Wanda lingered, glancing at you, Katya, and Natasha.

“Are you-” the younger woman stops,“ do you need any help with her?”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Natasha does.“ I’m gonna stay up with them for a moment. Go get some sleep Wan.”

Wanda nods with a soft smile and you can see the sleepiness in her eyes. You return the smile and tell her a quick goodnight before she leaves out.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you look down at Katya, a small smile on your lips at the sight of the young girl.“ You know, she looks like you.” You say, not knowing how else to voice your thoughts.

“Like me?” Natasha asks. The tone of her voice tells you that she realized that herself, probably thought about it for a bit, but possibly pushed it away.

You nod,“ that hair, her nose, her cheeks,” you look up from the girl to Natasha,“ I knew when I saw her she looked familiar but I guess I just didn’t put two and two together.”

“Well she’s got your eyes.” Natasha adds, raising her eyebrows at you as if to argue your point, but you just chuckle and nod.

Gently easing yourself away from the little girl, holding her up with your hand,“ she does.” Then you pick her up, holding her in your arms.

The way you’d done so makes Natasha’s eyebrows raise. For a moment she’s surprised to see you so familiarly handle Katya. Then she remembers that there were children as small as Katya in your family a few years ago. You’ve almost always been around little kids due to how often your siblings were popping out babies.

She remembers being around them often, before you two fell out. She’d been almost as close to your nieces and nephews as she is to the Bartons.

“Um, where is she sleeping?” You ask, glancing down at the little girl in your arms, her back softly rising and falling as she breathes.

Natasha shrugs,“ we can put her in one of the rooms in our hall.”

Nodding, you follow after the redhead, walking through the common room to the elevators, taking them up to the floor you and Nat sleep on. She opens the door to the room right beside yours(the room that used to be hers) and steps in after you as you carry the little girl to the bed.

As you lean down to lay her in the bed, her arms tighten around you, a little whimper leaving her lips that makes you instantly hold her closer. Frown on your face, you turn to look at Natasha who raises her eyebrows at you.

“Just lay her down Y/ln,” she whispers at you.

You sigh turning back to the bed to try again, but the instant you lower your upper body down she clings to you. Once again you turn to Natasha who looks at you frustratedly.

“Just. Put. Her. Down.” She continues to whisper, now aggressively pointing at you then the bed.

Your frown deepens and you place your hand on the back of Katya’s head, as if shielding her from your equally aggressive whisper to Natasha.“ I can’t Romanoff, she won’t let me go and I’m not prying a child out of my arms.”

“Then I guess she’s sleeping with you.” She smiles sarcastically at you before turning and leaving the room, walking straight across the hall to her room.

With Katya still in your arms, you quietly sigh and ease yourself on to the bed, gently laying back with the little girl still in your arms.

The moments before you fall asleep are full of you thinking. All about Katya and Natasha.

Not knowing where Katya came from drives you a little crazy over the next couple of days. But you manage to never make that known to the little girl. She’s the sweetest kid, her innocence adding something to the compound you hadn’t ever felt before.

That attachment you and Natasha felt towards her the first day, grows stronger. So strong that the little girl takes turns sleeping in both yours and Natasha’s rooms. Her presence draws yourself and Natasha closer and while it doesn’t feel like it had all those years ago, it feels really good to be able to talk to her again.

Today officially marks a week with Katya and while you haven’t fallen into a complete routine, things have been a lot calmer since the first day of her being here. You all have accepted that she’s sticking around until Tony and Bruce find her a way home. So for now your main goal is making sure she’s comfortable here.

After having taken Katya with you on your run with Steve, she wasn’t the happiest when you left her with Wanda in the kitchen to go take your shower, but you promised to come back. Which you did.

Now you stand at the counter, making a pot of coffee after Sam and Tony drank the first one and didn’t refill it, as Katya helps Wanda bake muffins for breakfast.

A gasp followed by an adorable little giggle hits your ears and you turn around to see Natasha now beside Katya, a bit of flour on her finger. One look at Katya’s face, the flour swiped across her forehead, you know what happened.

Smiling softly at them, you catch Natasha’s eyes.“ Coffee?” You ask quietly, voice barely above a whisper. But she catches it(mainly because her eyes had been on your lips before you even spoke) and nods.

Turning to the machine, you take down a mug and start to fix Natasha’s coffee just how she likes it. Smiling softly at her as you offer the mug up, her accepting it with a soft smile in return.

Both of you look back to Katya as she pours way more chocolate chips into the mix than necessary, then watching Wanda pour the mix into the pan.

As soon as they’re in the oven she claps excitedly making all of you smile at her. The little redhead runs up to you and Natasha, looking up at you happily,“ mo-” she cuts herself off with an uncertain look and sighs, her smile slipping for a moment before she speaks again,“ I made muffins with Wan!”

You and Natasha share a quick look at Katya’s little slip but, not wanting to make her feel any worse than she seemed to have felt, you both move past it.

“We saw,” Natasha smiles at her,“ what kind of muffins?”

“Chocolate chip!”

Eyes widening in excitement, you look at her with your eyebrows raised,“ you know,” you squat down to look her directly in the eyes,“ chocolate chip is my favorite.”

Her smile gets even brighter,“ it’s mine too. Momma always gives me milk with it.”

Your jaw drops, continuing to show an abundance of excitement for the girl,“ that’s exactly how I like to eat my muffins. We’re gonna have milk when we eat these muffins okay?” She nods and you hold your hand up for a high five.

“Muffins are best with coffee.” Natasha says, shaking her head at both of you.

Katya shakes her head, mumbling quietly,“ you always say that.” She giggles softly.

Doing your best not to frown at her words, you wonder when Natasha may have said that to Katya over the last week and drawing a blank. Wanda hasn’t baked muffins in almost two weeks.

As you all wait for the muffins to finish, you move to the common room, sitting around on the couches, Katya finding her usual place between you and Natasha. The second you grab the remote she looks up at you, eyes soft as she silently asks for it and you sigh, handing it over without question.

Looking up you catch the green eyes of Natasha who quirks her eyebrow at you, a small knowing smirk on her face that makes you shake your head, mouthing ‘don’t say a word’ which makes her laugh quietly.

While waiting you all watch the cartoon Katya put on. Slowly the rest of your team trickles into the room, finding spots all around, finding entertainment in the cartoon.

Looking around at your team, a small smile pulls at your lips. More of than innocence showing itself in the moment.

A group of ex-assassins, ex-military men, a witch, former agent, doctor/green giant, and a billionaire all sit around the room watching a cat cause chaos with a walking fish. It’s already crazy to see all of you as the family that you are, to now see all of you so seemingly childish is crazier.

The episode goes off shortly after, a commercial, playing before yet another episode of the show starts up. Katya is so invested in the show she doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the timer going off in the kitchen.

Looking over at Wanda, you shrug with a smile and she chuckles softly, shaking her head.

Just as she stands up a blackhole like chasm forms in the common room.

Exactly like they had when Katya arrived, everyone once again produces their weapons seemingly from thin air. You pop up from the couch, moving the little girl to stand behind you as you accept the pistol Natasha hands you.

Every on guard stance slacks, expressions forming into very confused ones at the person who steps through the chasm. Long red curls fall down her shoulders, body clad in a black cat suit, all too familiar green eyes scanning the room, landing directly on you.

She smiles softly, then glances down behind you, that smile getting even brighter.

There’s an odd tug in your heart at the sight of Natasha’s smile. One that bright? You hadn’t seen in years. God you missed it. But that was the last thing you should be thinking about, not when the very woman smiling at you is also standing beside you.

“Um what-”

Tony’s question is cut short when Natasha squats down, still looking at the girl behind you,“ Katya, come here honey.”

“Mommy?” Katya peaks around your legs and smiles instantly at the sight of Natasha. Breaking away from you, she sprints over to her and throws her little arms around the woman’s neck.

Watching that whole interaction brings everything together in your head.

Tony and Bruce were running tests on the space and time stone. Of course some time traveling was possible. And of course on their very first test they bring Natasha’s daughter from the future.

Realizing that you’re slightly freaking out brings another thought to mind. If this is you panicking Natasha must be losing it.

A glance over shows her blank expression. Almost blank that is. Cause in her eyes you see the shock, the amazement, the wonder, the hope.

She noticed the similarities in her’s and Katya’s looks, she couldn’t ignore the attachment she and the little girl felt towards one another. This is why.

Looking up from the little girl to herself. She reads her lips, ‘now how did you end up fifteen years in the past malen'kiy?’

Fifteen years. In the past.

Katya is her daughter. She’s going to have a daughter in a few short years? With who? Is a question that quickly answers itself.

She and Katya slowly look over to everyone, green eyes and e/c ones scanning over the group then landing on you and Natasha and staying there.

Their gazes, looking into the e/c eyes that belong to the young redhead, you both come to the understanding. Which makes you both slowly look at each other.

You have a child together. You and Natasha end up with a kid.

“Where are momma and Domi?” Katya turns back to Natasha and asks.

Two children!!

Your next question is answered when you see the glint of the ring on Natasha’s finger.

Holy sh-

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Natasha says, offering each of you a smile, wasting no time in nodding, scooping up the little girl who waves to you all as they disappear into the void.

A long moment of silence passes, then Bruce sucks his teeth and Tony hums.“ No more playing with infinity stones.”

Still looking into Natasha’s eyes, you release a slightly shaky breath,“ holy shit.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x you #marvel fic

580 notes · View notes

alluringjae · 3 years

Text

it’s a royal order - jjh

⤑ summary: one of your royal campaigns became a success, and your bodyguard jaehyun was there to see it all happen. it’s only fair to celebrate, right?

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 2k

⤑ genre: fluff, suggestive (dirty talk, jaehyun got a daddy kink, superiority complex!!), implied smut | bodyguard!jaehyun, princess!reader, slight enemies to lovers!au, modern royal!au (where south korea remains under monarchial power)

⤑ warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, family problems and therapy, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: this is definitely less emotional than all i do is wait! i got this idea from a show i really enjoyed before it got cancelled named the royals. specifically, i really liked the story of eleanor and jasper, which is the whole princess x bodyguard dynamic. the pining and tension, ugh! if you know this show or not, it doesn’t matter. anyways, thank you for the 30+ followers and 200 notes on aidiw! enjoy!

i need holy water because of this piece.

⤑ credits to jeongjaehyuns for the gif above uwu

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

“On behalf of the royal family, I would like to extend my utmost support for the Anti-School Violence campaign for all students to have a safer and more meaningful learning environment.” You proudly announced to the board of officials alongside other influential individuals in Korean society.

Being the only princess in the current royal line may have its pressures, but holding a strong, direct impact for a brighter future for the people motivated you to take advantage of your platform for the better. As the image of pure innocence and revamped women empowerment, you aimed to accomplish all the things your mother wished she could before her untimely death alongside your personal aspirations.

Expressing genuine joy with the campaign, with a tinge of desire to annoy the old-fashioned and closeminded officials, your prying eyes were more enamored by a certain man in the back clapping by the ballroom doors. You can’t help but act flustered whenever he witnessed you in a state of success and satisfaction.

This man went by the name Jeong Jaehyun, your trusted bodyguard since you were in your early twenties. 3 years later, he still stuck by your side and helped you endure all the darkness as a royal.

Back then, you went through a rebellious phase that was ruining the image of your family. Clubbing almost every night, drugs, skipping school, you even managed to get all assigned bodyguards to quit! The media ate up all your tricks, turning them into scandals. That was the plan, of course. You desired your own freedom from all the royal obligations because you didn’t ask to be born into that lifestyle. To all of your peers who wished to be in your footsteps, you would’ve impulsively passed your title to them. There’s so much deception that lies behind the glitz and glam of it all.

This unexpected change in your former untainted attitude came to the point that your father, the king himself, stepped in and personally assigned one of his men to get you in check. He figured that appointing a guard nearest your age may lessen the tension and mend you back together.

In the start, you absolutely despised him. There was no way to fool him when you were up to no good. He easily found your alcohol and drug stash which he disposed of on the spot and stood by your bedroom door every night so you wouldn’t sneak out past curfew (which your father also strictly implemented).

One big turning point in your relationship was when he rushed you to the royal hospital when you drank a cocktail that went unnoticeably spiked. To think that this was a typical social gathering with other royals and officials, you’re a constant target to many. You didn’t wake up for a few days, and the entire time, Jaehyun willingly stood by your bedside and outside your hospital room.

Since that and more instances your father insisted you get involved in royal affairs, you softened up. As cliché as it was, the more time spent with him, the more you knew about him and vice versa. He was the one that got you to fully open up about your grief towards your late mother, encouraging you to seek help. Turns out you weren’t as different as you thought despite your differing ranks in society when he also had a void for a missing parent. In his case, it was his father, who ditched his family for his mistress. Silently, you helped each other recover from your traumas alongside therapy. From dreading his presence, you started treating him more casually. Your father’s tactic of assigning a bodyguard around your age admittedly worked.

Oh, how time flies.

This campaign was the last thing on your weekend agenda, so you had the entire late afternoon and evening to yourself. Bowing one last time to the audience, you stepped down from the platform and accepted the soft hand of your bodyguard, who quickly made his way to you despite the flashing cameras. It was something he got used to as it is part of the job.

Once he successfully ushered you out of the ballroom, his hand still held yours. Nothing new, except this event was quite public and you didn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas. Strolling down one of the many hallways in the palace became a pastime for the both of you, where no one can catch you. It was a safe haven within the destructive life of the Park kingdom.

“You did phenomenal as I expected, your highness.” Jaehyun complimented, recalling your panic the night before as the stage fright hit strong when you were reciting your speech to him over and over again.

“We are in private, Jaehyun. Must you really use those formalities with me?” You taunted, bobbing your head sideways mockingly. With him could you felt like a normal young adult, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Jaehyun loved being frisky with you, catching you get irked up. And he was up to do it again.

“Hmm last time we strolled these halls, Yuta caught us making out after a successful meeting with the Prime Minister.”

You gasped at his statement, conscious of whoever may be in the vicinity. But before you could refute, your hand that was interlocked with his were mightily slammed against the white wall. You lost your breath for a moment, his warm body closely on yours. His free hand freely roamed up and down your covered waist. His lips were dangerously near your neck, where you’re sensitive. Your hips naturally grinded against him to release the pent-up tension.

“Something tells me you want to do it again, princess?” Now he’s just using your title as a pet name, but you couldn’t complain. It just hits differently when the situation was set up like this.

“I deserve it, don’t I? Got a lot of those hell-driven officials on my side for this round.” You raised both your brows cockily, licking your lips.

“Hell yeah, you do.” Finally, he rids of the tension and plants open kisses on your bare neck. Your throaty moans were uncontrollable, and you could care less.

“My princess,”

Kiss.

“So intelligent,”

Kiss.

“So benevolent,”

Kiss.

“So helpful,”

Kiss.

“But,” He changed his pace and direction, swollen lips near your ear.

“But?” You question naïvely. He scoffed, smirking at your antics of playing dumb.

“But a total slut for her bodyguard.” He dominantly planted his lips against yours, one of his veiny hands gripping on your waist and the other by the arch of your butt. He was hungry, needy even. Due to your shared schedules, it’s been a constant struggle to have proper alone time from the snooping eyes of Korean society. After all, it wasn’t in the norm for a princess to fall deep for her bodyguard. Nor were you sure you would be accepted by anyone. Yuta, the bodyguard of your oldest brother, the crowned prince Jinyoung, finding the both of you at that time was a total shock but didn’t care either.

All that mattered was that your feelings towards each other are real and strong. Accepted or not, you had each other.

All this lust put you in a daze, wanting much more than another smooch fest in the hallway. Tugging on his belt, he squeezed your butt tightly. You emitted a moan, which allowed his tongue access. No way could you keep your hands to yourself, touching his upper body and the flexing of his abdominal muscles from his button-up. You felt his now hard member poking through.

Analyzing your area, you were on the other side of the palace. Farther to your bedroom where numerous rendezvouses were made, one kink you’ve considered in the past amplified your mind. Considering this area was also the king’s side, and he was abroad for royal affairs, this was your chance.

“I have an idea, my love. You up for it?” You rose a brow at your lover, challenging him. Not one to overpower this man in bed, but always suggesting a way on how to spice it up.

“And what exactly does your feral brain want to do with me, princess?” His finger lifted your chin so you meet eye to eye. You can just see the fire still burning, and oh how you were ready to intensify it.

“The main ballroom, where my father and late mother’s throne rest, are a few doors away.” Your fingers signal him to lower his stance as his tall height was difficult to reach. With a sneaky smirk,

“Let me ride you in the king’s throne, my love.” Your lips brushed over his and sucked his bottom lip, tugging him by his belt. He groaned, squeezing your butt. “It’s a royal order.”

“Nasty, your highness. Insanely nasty, you are.” His hands hoisted your waist, boosting you up in his arms. You gasped with profanities, ravenously cut off by his lips again. His nails digging deep in your bare thighs, your legs naturally linked themselves around his torso while your arms passionately intertwined his broad neck.

In between kisses, he carried you to the said main ballroom. One of your wildest imaginations, just a second away. This room remained to be the only place without any guards stationed technological advancements or updated interior designs to preserve its traditional beauty. Dated as far as the 19th century, only special events were held and the highest of the high were allowed inside. Spacious, surrounded by gold linings majestic paintings of angels from above with a huge crystal chandelier right above the center. Right ahead, the original thrones that your ancestors, grandparents, and parents sat on when they were throned in its pure glory.

Pushing your lover on the king’s throne, the gold sun-like rays plastered behind the headrest, he cockily leaned back and manspread his legs for comfort. He rubbed his hands before patting his thigh, waiting for your submission. But you weren’t going to give in just yet.

Not when you prepared a mini-show just for him underneath your designer silk dress.

Jaehyun’s solemn eyes marveled over your gorgeous figure as you stripped down one strap after the other. Due to its silk fabric, it effortlessly dropped down to your figure to reveal a new set of black lace lingerie from your previous trip to Paris. Ages ago, Jaehyun unhesitatingly ripped your favorite ones during his birthday, so you decided to get a mature version of it. A version where your bra lifted your breasts more and undies hiked up to your waist to elongate your legs. Only for the eyes of yourself and the man in front of you, establishing that you were a powerful woman who can be absolutely anyone she can be. Princess, a normal young adult, or his slut, it’s up to you how you see yourself.

Jaehyun mumbled all the profanities he could think of at the moment. Looking like a divine angel when the sun from outside shuns behind you, his slacks tightening so much more than a while ago.

“All this for me?” He ogled shamelessly, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and untying his necktie. “What did I do to deserve such regal treatment?”

You sneered at his comment, stepping out your dress in your heels and stationing right in front of his luring lap. “You’ve always been there for me, thick and thin. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Lowering yourself to straddle him, his breath hissed when your damp core collided with his crotch. Distracted and caught in your trap, “I don’t think you answered my question, my love.”

Rather than a verbal response, he roughly pulled you back in for a kiss. His hands scattered to explore from your back down to your waist. Your hands messily ran through his hair, tugging on some when your body got too sensitive to his wild touches. The thrilling sounds of the two of you drowning in your fiery romance bounced throughout the ballroom, not minding if anyone passed by the hallways outside. It was a private room after all, and whatever happens here, stays here.

Rolling on his crotch while his lips trailed down to your collarbones, the quick snap of your bra wires echoed. The tight lift lessened as Jaehyun’s fingers dropped the straps, unveiling your bare chest covered in his marks.

“Enough playing, princess. Let daddy have some real fun with you.”

935 notes · View notes