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#compared to how he's been supported so far
kiefbowl · 22 hours
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I was reading an opinion piece on Kate Middleton's cancer diagnosis on CNN by Jamal Baig about the increasing rates of cancer in patients under 50. As far as 5 minutes of googling and JSTORing can lend me to believe, there's nothing illegitimate about Dr. Baig. However, I found this bit in his opinion interesting:
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Now, I'm always dubious when reading anything that attributes a very broad generalized idea that changes in diets have caused an increased in cancer, because more often than not it's not pointing to an exploration of, say, increased pesticide use, but the author's personal bias against the quote unquote "unhealthy", especially those who are deemed "fat" by the medical industry.
That being said, I was curious what source he linked, half expecting it to lead to just another op-ed from some other doctor from who knows when, but I was pleasantly surprised! Written by a man named Michael Donaldson, it was an evidentiary review published in a scientific journal called "Nutrition and cancer: A review of the evidence for an anti-cancer diet."
Now I wasn't going to give the whole thing a read, but I stopped in each section, gave a quick skim to get a general vibe, moved on to the next section, etc. I was immediately suspicious that the very first line in the abstract was "It has been estimated that 30–40 percent of all cancers can be prevented by lifestyle and dietary measures alone" as that seems to be a bananas statistic to just posit, but it still had the air of scientific integrity, so I did my skim.
The first handful of sections had things that gave me some moments of pause, that this article was in fact another doctor simply cherry picking data to confirm his own biases, but nothing so egregious as to do a spit take. That comes in a few minutes. The first section that made really go hold the phone was when we got to his Flax Seed section.
Compare how he writes about Red Meat...:
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(that's all he wrote, btw)
...with how he starts writing about Flax Seed:
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Did I just enter a Flax Seed commercial? Does this guy work for BIG FLAX SEED? on and on he writes about Flax Seed, and I start getting a sense that perhaps this man has a Flax Seed Agenda. In any case, he eventually moves on and I quickly skim to get to the end (because it's boring among other things).
So, who exactly is Michael Donaldson?
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Girl are you kidding me
The Hallelujah Acres Foundation is a FOR PROFIT company that sells a """biblical""" based diet program called the hallelujah diet and also sells supplements on said site.
Now, in case you forgot where I started with this, this was the link provided as a "source" to a legitimate doctor's claim in an op-ed about cancer that "at least part of the answer" of why cancer is increasing in under 50 patients are the "changes to nutrition and lifestyle that took hold in middle of the last century." Dr. Baig did not read this article, or if he did was not concerned that it was written by the employee of a company that profits from unscientific research it uses to sell supplements and diets. Which is worse, I don't know.
The point I'm making is that you absolutely need to be vigilant all the time. You need to understand that doctors can not only have biases, but agendas. Researchers can have biases and agendas. Scientists can have biases and agendas. And that magical thinking about real health issues that can affect your future can permeate the scientific community because weirdos write convincing enough evidence that support their already determined world view.
This kind of shit is the reason why women go into doctor offices complaining about pain in their abdomen and get told to go lose weight and come back in 6 months. This is why ideas like moralizing eating have huge effects on women's health and influence medical misogyny, and why it's a feminist issue.
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wonder-worker · 4 months
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“Edward IV was never the sole, undoubted representative of the kingship before I47I. The crowned, anointed and, most important, de facto king of nearly forty years standing, was still alive, never abdicated and was never deposed; he was free until I465 and safe thereafter so long as his heir was beyond Edward's reach ... Barnet, Tewkesbury and the prompt murder of Henry VI, the moment it was safe to do so, alone changed all this and secured Edward's de facto kingship at last. The 'first reign' was in fact the road to the throne.”
- B.P Wolffe, review of “Edward IV” by Charles Ross
#edward iv#english history#that's a really good point I think#Edward IV was definitely in a wildly different and far more vulnerable situation from other 15th century usurpers#Henry IV and Richard III both had the usurped kings in their control and both Richard II and Edward V were childless so their usurpers#didn't have to worry about direct heirs#Henry VII defeated Richard in battle and was thus not only able to avoid the stain of regicide but was also able to gain added legitimacy#God-given victory in battle; divinely ordained triumph etc#Richard III also didn't have any legitimate heirs & hadn't formally declared anyone else his heir either#(and was himself viewed as an usurper himself by many)#So without discounting their difficulties they were all ultimately 'de-facto' kings from the beginning. Meanwhile Edward IV lacked that#across his 'first reign' and still somehow managed to get through which I think is actually pretty impressive imo? All things considered?#Ofc that's not to say that the circumstances were totally neat-and-clean for Henry IV Richard III and Henry VII - that's laughably untrue#But it was fundamentally different and more 'secure' in comparison to *Edward IV's* specifically#(John Guy talks about this in 'Tudor England' as well)#That's not even getting into how Edward IV was so much younger than the other three usurpers (he was 18 to their 32 30 and 28 respectively)#when he ascended the throne. So ultimately I think that his first reign was certainly very different and more vulnerable#which I definitely think this should be kept in mind when evaluating it - particularly if the evaluation is comparative in nature#(eg: in terms of internal opposition; foreign opposition; support; room to make mistakes etc)#On the flip-side it's also VERY indicative where Richard III is concerned. Because however morally distasteful his usurpation may have been#on a personal level - he WAS ultimately the de-facto king and the best option for dynastic continuity. And was clearly attempting a#policy of pardon and reconciliation where his brothers' followers were concerned. So it speaks volumes that despite that - despite#having nothing to gain and everything to lose - so many people rebelled against him or defected to a rival claimant who could#at that point offer them no such manifest advantage whatsoever
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k-v-briarwood · 2 months
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Oh God, oh fuck Crossroads continues chugging onward into an unprecedented fourth book because I can't stop myself. Oh God, oh fuck the MCs can't fucking HEAR ME SCREAMING FOR IT TO END!
(spoiler ranting under the cut)
Oh God, oh fuck, Iarsou was right the whole time about the Seraphim being evil fucking overlords and Micah was right the whole time about resurrection and Clayborn deaths.
God what the fuck is happening?? Book three was supposed to be the END!!! this means I'm only HALFWAY DONE WITH THE SERIES?!?
THIS MEANS RAPHAEL REALLY DID KILL AN APPRENTICE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN FORCED TO BE A WARMACHINE BY THE SERAPHIM
I'M SORRY WHO THE FUCK LET ME WRITE POLITICAL INTRIGUE?? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE FOUR BOOKS??? IT CANT JUST BE THREE ANYMORE, I CANT JUST RETCON THE RESURRECTION LIE WITH NO FURTHER PUNISHMENT FOR THE MCS! FUCK!
IF THE RESURRECTION THING IS TRUE AND THE SERAPHIM KNEW, AND THE HALO THEORY HAPPENS (it will ughhhhh kill me) THAT MEANS ALL THE SOLDIERS (The Thrones) ARE UNDER CONTROL AT ALL TIMES SINCE THERE ARE LESS OF THEM THAN THERE ARE SERAPHIM
aahhhHHHHHHHHHH
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starbuck · 2 years
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love the single braincell of the Boat Fandom
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winterarmyy · 7 months
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Welcome Home, Daddy
The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.
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Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.
Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)
Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader
Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)
Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》
A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!
P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.
And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.
"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.
How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.
The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.
And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.
He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.
He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).
No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.
Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.
And no one saw it coming.
Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.
So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.
Hers and the baby's inside.
After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.
Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.
It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.
When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.
For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.
It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.
That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.
And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.
Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.
On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.
While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.
It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.
Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.
And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.
The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.
Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.
But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.
That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.
The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.
It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.
So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.
"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.
So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.
It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.
Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.
Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.
But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.
However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.
However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.
It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.
Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.
The darkness surrounding her.
The bone rattling cold.
It felt like death itself.
But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.
Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.
"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."
It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.
After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.
Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.
How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?
Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.
Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.
The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.
This game, that they're playing.
It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.
And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.
"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"
The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.
The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.
He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.
At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.
Anger.
Frustration.
Rage.
Wrath.
Even hatred.
The soldat was feeling it all.
It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.
God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.
"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."
She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.
The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."
As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.
Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.
When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.
Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?
Why would he?
This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.
Not today, not ever.
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Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.
This was all because they wanted her baby.
It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.
"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."
It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.
Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.
There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.
"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.
She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.
As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.
And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.
But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.
The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.
The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.
She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.
"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.
Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.
Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.
You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.
That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.
Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.
He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.
Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.
She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.
Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.
Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.
And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.
Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.
Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."
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Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?
That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.
The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.
It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.
This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.
While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.
Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.
By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.
Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.
And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.
At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.
Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.
As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.
And that was the soldat's last ammo.
While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.
But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.
Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.
However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.
And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.
When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.
There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.
She was right there.
His heart.
His love.
His darling.
Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.
The soldat's steps grew faster.
So does Y/N's.
Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.
Until the moment they reunited in the middle.
Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.
So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.
The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.
Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.
So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.
Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.
His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.
When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.
She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"
The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."
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"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."
"You can follow us if you want so just please--"
"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."
The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.
The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.
The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.
Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?
"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."
Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.
"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.
The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.
Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.
So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.
"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.
Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.
Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.
So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.
At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.
When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.
He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.
It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.
Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.
"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."
His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.
And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.
The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.
In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.
Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.
When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.
The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.
"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.
There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.
Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.
"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."
And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.
The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.
Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "
She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.
But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.
And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.
After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.
He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.
Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.
The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.
Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.
The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."
He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."
Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.
Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.
The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.
The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.
A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.
Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.
The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.
It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.
When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.
The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.
Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.
It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.
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Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.
When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.
Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.
Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.
"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 
It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.
They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.
Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.
And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"
"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.
Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."
Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.
Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.
Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.
Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.
"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.
Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.
Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.
Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!
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sourbinnie · 10 months
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☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆
♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!
maknae line
a/n: first reaction ¡! i decided i would go with the "compares you" part. hope i did it well for yall and to the person who requested it, thank u!!! i'll publish maknae line whenever i'm free:]
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chan ✉
arguments could get pretty heated with chan sometimes (he's a libra at the end of the day). it could get stressful since you've been going back & forth for so long now, as you tried to make him understand that he wasn't taking care of himself but it only brought back hurtful words that you were letting it pass under the excuse that he was "too tired". maybe you were too naive at that moment thinking that he would calm down and you guys would solve it like you always do.
then you heard it, he didn't say their name but you could only imagine who he was talking about at that point and time. 
"they would just leave me alone and let me be, why can't you do the same? ah right you're not them and you will never be." he said and horror washed him instantly as they realized what they did. fights were inevitable but you can always keep comments to yourself right? it was just the heat of the moment that made him slip out such cruel words. as soon as you were turning away to leave, he was trying to find his way to you but it was too late anyways. "baby nono, don't leave not right now, it's late and i was fucking stupid. i'm so fucking sorry-."
"i just need some space right now, yeah? i need to be away from you." you said and that only made him worry even more as that's the last thing he wanted right now. "just let me christopher, we'll talk when i get back." 
"don't call me that, i'm still your channie, your boyfriend and i still fucking love you. listen i'm sorry but please don't go." he said close to the tears falling from his eyes and you just shook your head as you grabbed your things and he followed you around the house like a lost puppy. "(y/n) let's work this out yeah? i'll go to the dorms tonight and you'll stay here."
eventually knowing he wouldn't give up, you just nodded as you went to your shared bedroom and sighed. letting the tears finally from your eyes and hearing the door close was enough to let your sobs out from how much those words stung in your heart.
minho ✉ 
fighting with minho wasn't easy. his witty responses and his hurtful comments always stood out like daggers in your heart. he usually didn't fight at all but when he did, most of the time he took it too far and it wasn't easy to forget what he said. as the new comeback approached, you tried your best to be supportive but when you couldn't see them on their first win, it hurt minho. he wanted you to be there, backstage or in the crowd cheering for them but he did not see you anywhere. turns out you were too late, had a "work" emergency, he called bullshit on that.
"i'm sorry min, i'll promise i'll be on the next one. my boss really needed me and-." he cut you off immediately, not wanting to hear it.
"it's fine. it's not like they would miss out on this like you did. maybe i should just get back with them." he muttered and it was enough for you to walk away from him. all the boys were there to talk to him about what just happened and why were you crying but he was completely petrified from your reaction and how you just went away without a word. "god i'm such a fucking idiot." he said as he chased after you through the hallways.
"don't even try talking to me. i get that you're fucking mad but that doesn't give you an excuse to say stuff like that." you said as you still walked away and didn't even look in his direction. minho tried to process what was happening all at once but couldn't bare to see the look in your eyes as the tears were still going down your face.
"please listen to me for a second. it was stupid that i got mad, i should've understood you from the beginning but please stay and i'll make it up to you. i promise." he said and even if it did sound sincere, you just couldn't do it.
"i'm sorry, i think i wanna be alone tonight." you said as you looked at him one last time and kissed his cheek before muttering "goodbye minho" and walking through the door. leaving a distraught and regretful minho behind.
changbin ✉ 
it wasn't rare for you to fight with changbin, what was rare was when he got mad. this time when you were at the studio, making sure 3racha were feeling well and not overworking themselves, you were met with a furious bin. it surprised you, you've never seen him mad and maybe something else was happening that you didn't know or you chose the worst time to visit the studio. whatever it was, it made you feel so small and like you were in a place you did not belong. jisung and chan weren't even there to witness it but you guessed that as soon as they heard, they left you guys alone.
"look i'm sorry. i don't know what i did wrong but that doesn't excuse your attitude and how you're treating me right now!" you said but it wasn't enough to his ears as he gave you the next words.
"god i can never say anything, at least with them they would let me express myself. i should've never broken up with them if i knew i was gonna end up with you." ouch was all that could be said about that as you nodded and felt the water in your eyes grow slowly. "shit- i'm so fucking sorry, i don't know what came over me baby."
he tried to get close to you but you just took a step back and that broke changbin's heart completely. it made him feel like a monster in front of you but he couldn't blame you for that, it was all his fault in the end. when he saw you walk away, as much as he wanted to, he decided not to follow you and let you go. he couldn't describe what he was feeling when he saw you practically run away from the building and not answer for jisung's calls since he was just walking in with chan. 
"what the fuck happened hyung?" jisung asked as he crossed his arms and that's when changbin lost the control of his tears. he wasn't one to usually cry but he was now gonna be haunted with muttering those words to you and what he made you feel in that moment.
"i fucked it up like i always do." he said brokenly.
hyunjin ✉
as much as you loved hyunjin, he got so petty in fights it was irritating. he was the definition of drama queen and he could fight on & on about the tiniest of details. like right now when you just got home and you forgot to do some things in your shared apartment. tiny things like the dishes or the laundry usually didn't piss him off but today when he got home practice and saw, in his words, that the whole house was upside down, he got stressed. 
"look i'm sorry, i forgot to do it and i know you've been busy with practice. i'll do it tomorrow since i get to go home earlier." you tried to explain but he just shook his head and crossed his arms.
"tomorrow? are you serious? they would've done it right here and now and wouldn't be putting up excuses like you're doing." he didn't even have to mention them for you to know who he was talking about. it felt like twisting the knife on the wound as you just looked at him with the most hurtful stare.
"of course they would. they didn't have a job in the first place and relied on you for everything!" you said and laughed bitterly but in a sad way. "if it's my job then it's a problem but with your job there's literally no excuse right? 'cause it's more important. grow up hyunjin." 
"look babe i'm sorry. i don't know what the fuck i was thinking when i said that." he tried to make up an excuse at the moment but he knew nothing would justify what he said and implied with his words. it was met with a sigh from you and it was your turn to shake your head. "i don't think your job is less important and i shouldn't have said what i said-."
"but you said it." you whispered and decided to head to your shared bedroom to lock the door. you needed some time alone not only because of the harsh words but because it made you process your whole relationship in a flashback. 
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goldyeokki · 10 months
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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄. ¹⁸⁺ ✧ 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍
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꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluffy smut ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've noticed your boyfriend getting a lot . . . thicker lately.
꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.5k ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: no gendered pet names have been used for the (gn!afab!) reader; unprotected sex; oral (reader receiving); jaemin uses pet names like doll, pretty, baby, angel, whore, slut; big dick!jaemin; size kink; dacryphilia; dumbification if you squint; overstimulation if you squint; marking (jaemin receiving); it's pretty rough but it's also so sweet; choking; so so much praise; manhandling
꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. my first fic! wah?! for the love of my life, na jaemin! pls give this lots of love<3
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it’s a quiet saturday afternoon for both you and your boyfriend jaemin. neither of you have plans nor do you want to make any, so you’re spending the better part of your day lounging in bed together. he’s watching anime on the television screen across your bed while you scroll through tiktok on a lower volume. both of your legs are tangled together; your cheek is pressed against his bare chest, one arm wrapped around his back. meanwhile, he has his own arm secure around you, bicep acting as support for your neck while his hand rests on your hip. since you’re only wearing your panties and one of his shirts, he likes to take advantage of it and gently caress your exposed skin.
deciding to let your eyes take a break from the screen, you lock your phone and set it aside so you can focus on cuddling jaemin. one of the things that you appreciate the most about having an introverted boyfriend is that you don’t need to worry about awkward attempts to make conversation. you’re able to be comfortable in the silence and simply be.
you let your gaze drop from the big screen ahead to the view of his abs. you notice that he’s going to the gym with jeno and mark more often, and his diet’s altered to include more lean meat and dairy products. he tends to hide his figure with baggy clothes and oversized shirts but when it’s just the two of you, he waltzes around the apartment in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. sometimes, he’ll throw on a hoodie and a pair of socks, but that’s for the harsh winters.
you backtrack the events of the day so far, thinking of the shower that you both took together in the morning after he came back from his morning run. when scrubbing his back, you remember putting in a tad bit more effort to get a thorough job done. the scenes rewind in your mind like cuts of a short film. his back is, without a doubt, more defined now, muscles rolling with every slight movement. his chest is firmer too, but it doesn’t compromise how pillow-like it is when you use it to rest your head. and his arms . . . oh yeah, they’re a lot beefier now. when you compare your boyfriend’s build to jeno’s, the difference is clear as day.
he hasn’t always been this thick, though. you pick your phone back up and scroll back to find photos of your boyfriend nine months ago. he did have a lean and cut figure back then.
so maybe that explains the nagging urge to bite him lately.
well, who could blame you? your boyfriend is built like a club bouncer now. a really, really hot club bouncer. one that you’d gladly bounce on his di–
“something on your mind, baby?” his husky voice pulls you out of your reverie. you hum in response, hoping he’ll let it be but you know he’ll pester you if he’s convinced something is up. your eyes follow the movement of his free hand as he grabs the remote and pauses the show. there’s no way you could miss the flex in his arm and the veins that make themselves prominent when he presses down on the button. “are you sure?”
“very, i promise.” you look up to reassure him with a sweet smile. you take the opportunity for your free hand to gently pat his chest and goddamn, he’s firm. you try not to react but it’s obvious that your efforts are in vain when he chuckles.
“really? because the way your eyes went big when you just did that tells me otherwise.” jaemin shifts your positions so that you’re both sitting upright and facing each other. you pout and look at him but the exposure of his body leads your eyes to glaze all over his broad physique brazenly. “ah . . . is that what this is about?”
“hm?” you play coy, forcing your gaze back up to him as you look at him through your lashes, batting them pretty just the way it drives him crazy. it’s so easy to toy with your boyfriend like this. his pupils dilate and he sucks in a quick breath, adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat as he watches you carefully.
“god,” he exhales slowly and carefully. he calls out your name—firm and resolute—with an eyebrow cocked upward. “you’re giving me those eyes . . . fuck. tell me what you want to do. now.” he runs one hand down his face in a feeble attempt to calm himself down, eyes fluttering close as he takes in another deep breath before looking back at you, waiting for you to answer him. he keeps his hands to himself, refusing to touch you until you give him the green light.
there are so many things you want to do to him; so many things you want him to do to you. even in his lust, he looks at you like you put the twinkling stars in the night sky with your very own hands, and god, you kinda wanna sit on his face for it.
it’s a risky statement to make but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. you know that he’s going to jump your bones the second you give him the green light.
“i wanna bite you while you fuck my brains out.”
jaemin doesn’t waste any time—just as you had predicted. he crawls towards you on the bed and once you’re within his reach, he wraps one strong arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap. you’re surprised by the sheer strength that he possesses, evident in the soft gasp and the slightly disoriented look when you realise you’re not where you once were.
“you’re doing this on purpose,” you chastise him with a small pout.
“what am i doing on purpose?” jaemin feigns innocence with a mischievous grin. he pushes away the messy locks of hair that have fallen on your face while the other holds you in place. your eyes trail from his well-manicured hand to his bicep flexing and relaxing with every movement. he takes your chin between his curved index finger and thumb and redirects your gaze so it’s on him. “hey. eyes on me, pretty.” his voice is low and demanding, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes as the corner of his lips curls upwards into a smirk. a hot rush of blood flows straight to your core and cheeks from the sudden action.
he uses the hold he has on your chin as leverage to bring your face closer to him until your lips meet halfway. sweet, chaste kisses turn into hot, desperate ones within mere heartbeats. he keeps chasing after you every time you pull away for breath, the grip around you firm as he holds you in place. he doesn’t shy away from contact, no. his hand moves from your chin to cradle the base of your scalp, guiding your head so there’s no accidental bumping while the other slides underneath one of his old shirts that you’re wearing.
the second you’re both pulling away for fresh air, there’s tension and a vague competitiveness that circles the both of you. he glances at you with half-lidded eyes, provoking you with a cheeky smirk and a raise of his eyebrows. this motherfucker. you’re suddenly overcome with a compelling urge to mark him up with hickeys and scratch lines. so, you act on your desires.
you mirror what he likes to do to you: your left hand gently grabs his jaw and turns his face away so you have more access to his neck, lips finding the right spots for you to sink your teeth in and suckle on the flesh until you get him to groan for you. you rock your clothed core against his hardening erection, swathing your tongue over a fresh hickey. you’re rewarded with a deep, throaty groan that rings in your head and sends another rush of blood to your cunt.
“shit, baby,” he exhales slowly in a feeble attempt to keep his composure as you continue your quest.
“gotta let everyone know you belong to me, handsome.” your lips ghost over his ear, whispering words of innocent sin in a low voice to hear another grunt of pleasure from him. satisfied with the reactions he’s giving you, you resume devoting your attention to marking up his neck and chest.
“you’re gonna drive me crazy.” there’s a desperation in his voice where you know he wants to take over. you’re not sure what’s taken over him but decides to let you play first. not that you’re complaining, of course.
you form a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over his broad chest and collarbones, eyelids fluttering against his hot skin until you enclose your lips around one nipple. “oh, shit–!” jaemin’s hips buck up into yours from the sudden sensation of your tongue swirling around the pert bud. his wanton reaction stirs one from you, but you bite back the moan that threatens to spill.
the ache in your core is beginning to become unbearable and you wonder just how much self-control he’s exercising. his hands on your hips are eagerly pushing your heat down against his erection, weakly humping you like a teenage boy experiencing his first sexual encounter.
when you lean back to marvel at your work, you’re greeted with a sight that consumes you with unbridled lust and makes your whole body run hot.
he’s so pretty with his face flushed, flowers of rouge and plum on his neck, collarbones, and chest, glistening with a thin layer of sweat. he’s panting softly, lips swollen from being bitten and sucked on thanks to you, and for a brief moment, the golden late noon sun that peeks through your covered blinds envelopes him in an ethereal glow.
your nails gently rake down his sculpted biceps as you ascend back up, following your trail of hickeys until you find your faces mere inches from each other once again.
“hey, you,” jaemin exhales before giving you a soft, chaste kiss. “had fun?” he asks softly. you giggle, nodding as you cup his face to properly kiss him this time.
even when he’s desperate for air, his lips trap yours in a feverish lock as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. his hips buck upwards into yours every other heartbeat. dexterous hands dance along your body, toying with the fabric that keeps your exposed skin from him. he’s starting to get restless for some proper action—a constant habitual reaction that you’ve noticed from him every time you’re about to get frisky.
he starts to grab and knead possessively at your love handles. that’s when you know: it’s his turn to undress you.
jaemin grabs a fistful of your shirt hem and pulls it over your head before tossing it over his shoulder into a forgotten corner. one hand is on your waist, the other ghosting his fingertips down your spine so your back gently arches into him. he nibbles on your bottom lip and presses your throbbing core against his erection.
the action elicits a soft gasp of surprise from you. he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips while fondling your right breast, pinching and rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple. he begins his own trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your chest just so he can hear your pretty moans.
you don’t even realise that he had been slowly making you lean down until your back hits the mattress. he suddenly stops and your mind is reeling to hazily explore the one thousand and one reasons he might have paused.
before you can even think to ask if everything is okay, jaemin slides your panties to the side and latches his lips onto your clit.
shockwaves spread through your body and your hands immediately fly to his hair, thighs clenching around him when he suckles on the sensitive nub.
“jaemin!” you whine in defeat, eyes fluttering shut with your head thrown back. he only hums in response and the vibrations send another wave of electricity up your spine.
he languidly laps at your juices, his gaze constantly flitting between your face and your core. he eats you out like he’s been given a lavish meal by the gods. he toys with your clit—suckling, flicking, rolling at the nub just to watch your face contort and scrunch up in equal parts pleasure and frustration of not getting what you want. a wide grin appears on his face when your eyes meet and you whine his name in a long drag.
jaemin’s tongue starts to dance along your lower lips, collecting your juices on the wet muscle before he thrusts it deep into your core. you moan from the relief of having something shoved inside of you, walls clenching tightly around him which pulls a throaty grunt from your boyfriend.
the lewd, wet sounds of slurping and sucking fill your shared bedroom. you feel your cheeks and neck burn from how embarrassing and erotic it is but you’re too occupied with how good it feels to have his tongue stretch you out. your high is creeping upon you slowly and before you can push his head deeper so you can ride his face, he pulls away to wrap his lips around your neglected bud.
“tastes so fucking sweet,” he groans around your clit. long, dexterous fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he pins you down, not allowing a single movement from you. “could eat you out all day, baby.” your frustration picks away at you, tears welling in your eyes, walls clenching desperately around nothing. a needy whine is pulled from your throat before you can even stop yourself.
jaemin hums and looks back up at you, raising an eyebrow upward smugly. you’re glaring down at him, body burning with need and lust, while he continues to flick his pointed tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. your body starts to twitch from how sensitive you are, fingers digging deep into his fluffy brown locks but he’s not done playing with you yet.
“need something, pretty?” there’s a gentle slur in his words, pretty pink lips stained with your pearlescent arousal as he rises to his feet. you don’t even know when he discarded his clothes but he’s naked with his cock throbbing against his stomach. he wraps his fingers around his duo-toned erection, spreading beads of precum on himself. “c’mon baby, use your words for me.”
the mattress dips where he parts your thighs with an authoritative bump of his knee, climbing over you like a predator surveying its prey. he leans forward, free hand gently grabbing your jaw while the other lazily pumps himself. he cocks an eyebrow upward as he grinds his bare cock against your sopping folds, letting his heavy tip catch against your clit just to watch you whimper and tremble from the sensation.
“want your cock in me now, jaem,” you whine desperately. he’s second-guessing himself and you can see it in the way his features soften a little in concern. he will always get you to cum at least once before he penetrates and this is the first time he will be forgoing it. but you—you’re desperate. your juices are dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets and you’re beyond sure that he’ll be able to slip right in.
“are you sure, angel?” jaemin’s thumb runs over your bottom lip. when presented with the opportunity, who are you to deny yourself of taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it? his eyes darken, lids drooping halfway and brows furrowing just the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me. use your words, pretty.”
he’s caught in a trance-like state as he watches you suck on his thumb. you know he’s tempted to pull his thumb away to replace it with his ring and middle fingers just to see how deep you can take him in. since he denied you of your pleasure, you’ll deny him of his.
you release his thumb from your lips with a soft, wet pop before gazing up at him through your lashes.
“i need you to fuck me now, jaemin. i need you.”
like a switch had been flipped, he cusses under his breath and looks down to guide his cockhead to your entrance. without a hint of a warning, he bullies his cock into your warm, awaiting cunt.
“fuck!” he groans when you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his lower back to encourage him to push deeper. meanwhile, your head is thrown back, eyes rolling back as he sinks further into you, walls tightening around him like a vice. jaemin grabs your jaw once again to force your gaze onto him. “look at me when you’re taking my fat cock, baby.”
you force your eyes open with a shaky breath, doing exactly as you’re told as you pant hotly. he continues burying himself into you until he bottoms out and his eyes bore into you when your face contorts in pure pleasure of feeling the euphoric stretch of your walls to accommodate his heavy girth.
“fuck, how are you always so fucking tight?” he’s the first to break eye contact, lids squeezing shut as he lets you get used to his size. his head falls forward and he takes the opportunity to plant sweet kisses all over your face and cheeks. you know better than anyone that it’s his way of distracting himself while you get used to his size before he starts to fuck you. it’s not like you haven’t fucked in a long time—he’s just big enough for you to struggle even when you’re at least two orgasms down.
“m-move,” you barely whisper.
with your consent, he rolls his hips forward to test the waters and he’s rewarded with a needy whine paired with your walls squeezing around him.
jaemin’s right hand plants firmly on your hip while the other gently grabs your jaw to give him more access to your neck. there’s no warning when he starts ploughing into you, cockhead burying itself deep into your cunt with every upward snap of his hips. pleasure spreads through your body in constant waves as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you with reckless abandon. his name rips through your throat in tandem with the sounds of skin smacking against skin bouncing off the thin walls.
“such a desperate little whore.” his lips latch onto your neck as he continues driving his heavy cockhead deep against all of the good spots. “always so fucking tight for me.” he sighs almost wistfully. the hand that was on your jaw moves to wrap around your throat, fingers pressing down on the right spots to restrict your airflow.
you’re already so sensitive, sparks igniting all over your body, but he angles his hips higher so his tip is aggressively bullying the exact spot that has you seeing stars. your feeble hands wrap around his wrist as he leers over you with a domineering grin.
the sight of him so consumed with lust has your heart racing from how handsome yet hedonistic he looks. his onyx eyes are blown with a dark eagerness, strands of deep brown locks sticking to his temples as beads of sweat form trails down his hairline. his lips are pink and swollen from being kissed so lovingly whilst his neck and collarbones are littered with hickeys done in your name. he looks so sinful. it’s an intoxicating view that sends your head into a tailspin and another hot burst straight to your core.
“you look so pretty when you’re so fucked out, angel,” he hissed through his teeth. “so cockhungry you can’t even speak? all you needed was my cock and you’ll be satisfied, ain’t that right?”
before you can argue with him, jaemin pulls his cock out from you and slaps the tip against your neglected clit. you whine from the sudden emptiness when he pulls away from you, desperate for his hands on your body.
“jaem . . .” your complaint comes in the form of a weak whisper that he only chuckles quietly in response. “i wanna feel you, jaem.”
“patience is a virtue, pretty.” there’s a gentle lilt in his voice and through your glossy vision you can see the grin. he’s having fun taking his own sweet time with you while you crave for his touch. as punishing as it is, part of you is quivering with anticipation for what comes next.
jaemin sinks down onto his knees until he’s face to face with your lower lips. he brings his left hand down to your dripping core, middle and index fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. he huffs in amusement as he watches your hole clench desperately around him. in embarrassment, you try to close your thighs to hide from him but he’s quicker and far stronger. one strong grip of warning and you submit in a heartbeat.
“such a gorgeous cunt . . . probably waiting for more of my cock, hm?” he asks without really asking, gaze flitting up to yours and he’s chuckling once again when you nod desperately.
he rises to his feet, casually patting his hand against your pussy and making it a point for the heel of his palm to put pressure against your throbbing clit.
“jaemin . . .”
“shh, we’ll get there, baby. patience.”
he pulls you up into a sitting position with ease before he takes his own space on his side of the bed. his back is against the headboard, pillows supporting him as he sits back and strokes his aching cock. you stare at him through your wet lashes, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.
“pretty baby wants my cock, right?” you nod eagerly. “show me how badly you want it, then.” you want to glare and huff and puff and throw a tantrum but his stern gaze penetrates right through you. you pout in a feeble attempt to get him to at least pull you onto his thick lap again but he doesn’t budge.
“you’re so mean.” you complain with a grumble. with trembling thighs and arms you crawl over to him anyway. you don’t think look too hot or sexy but jaemin watches your every move like he’s going to eat you up the second you’re in his grasp. he maintains eye contact as he cleans up the hand that he used to touch himself, flat tongue licking and swirling around his dexterous digits. god, he looks so fucking hot.
you don’t know what he’s going to do next but you’re going to take advantage of getting up close so you can sink your teeth into his shoulders and your nails into his biceps.
“oh, i’m mean for giving you a chance to prove how much your slutty pussy wants my fat cock?” his words are so vulgar and it sends a hot rush straight to your core. when you straddle him, cockhead ghosting over your pussy lips, he gently takes your chin between his thumb and curled index finger to guide your eyes onto him. “why are you so quiet? cat got your tongue, doll?”
“no.” you huff in defence. jaemin chuckles in amusement when you plant both your hands on his shoulders and turn your face away slightly. when you’ve steadied yourself successfully, you take the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance.
as much as you would love to worship his body as he did to you, you’re far too impatient and too desperate to chase after your high. he’s been teasing you relentlessly and you’re going to get what you’ve been craving for.
you sink yourself down onto his cock, taking deep breaths while your walls flutter restlessly around his girth. his hands fly to your waist and guide you until you’re buried to the hilt. the tip is snugly kissing your g-spot when you’re seated properly, thighs burning from the effort after being relentlessly toyed with. your head drops and a soft moan of his name comes from your throat, forehead resting against his shoulder.
“shit,” he curses under his breath. the grip he has on your waist moves to your ass, kneading the pillowy flesh and littering kisses all over your temple and exposed shoulder. “you okay, pretty? i know my cock is too big for your greedy cunt but you take it like a good slut anyway, don’t you?” your whimpers and weak nods in response to his lewd words made his cock twitch inside of you, sending chills up your spine.
it drives you insane the way he can be so sweet and gentle while calling you such mean and obscene names. and you hate the way it makes your walls clench like a vice around him.
“yeah? i knew you liked being called a good slut.” jaemin’s fingers dig into you, biceps bulging as he effortlessly lifts you up and down his cock at a slow and steady pace. every time he sinks you down, he makes it a point to snap his hips upwards to meet you halfway. “such a cockhungry angel. what would everyone say if they saw you drooling all over my cock, huh?”
you mewl weakly in response, biting down on his shoulder to suppress your moans while your nails dig into his biceps.
“fuck, you really like getting called such dirty names, don’t you?” he bullies his cockhead right where it makes you see stars in your vision just so he can hear your sweet cries for mercy. you feel a little lightheaded from the pleasure coursing through your veins with every gentle yet hard thrust into you, blissfully taking his cock as he wants you to. “you’re so fucking dirty, baby. whose cock does this pussy belong to?”
you want to say his name, to say that it’s him, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of him wrapped around your walls to think of anything coherent.
“already dumb on my cock? i’ve barely begun, babe.”
while he’s still inside of you, jaemin secures your legs around his waist before he pushes you onto your back, changing your positions once more. the air gets knocked out of your lungs at the sudden switch, meekly whimpering his name when he checks on you. when he’s sure you’re okay, he gives you a sweet kiss on your forehead.
you don’t even realise that he has your knees hooked on his shoulders, his own digging into the mattress on either side of you. before you can process what is happening, you’re left gasping for air once again when he starts pounding into you with reckless abandon.
“jaemin!” a broken cry of his name rips through your throat when he snakes one hand down to roll your clit in figure eights. between his cock ruining your walls and the added stimulation to your throbbing clit, there’s nothing but sweet release and pleasure that fills your mind. “j-jaem, fuck, ‘s too– fuck!”
“too what, baby? is it too much? is my fat cock too much for you, baby?” he growls into your ear yet places a sloppy, tender kiss on your jawline. “you were just begging to get fucked like a whore and now—shit—and now my angel’s complaining it’s too much?” he punctuates the last three words with a thrust harder and rougher than the last, sending your head into a tailspin as your jaw drops to mewl weakly.
his words sink into your skin, touch electrifying as he patiently helps you reach your high.
“it’s– fuck, jaemin!” you weep pathetically with your walls clenching around him like a vice. you bite down on your lower lip as tears spring from your eyes due to the overstimulation of him relentlessly hitting your g-spot again and again while toying with your throbbing clit. the familiar knot starts to form and build up in your stomach, your body burning up with a feverish lust that only he can take care of. “i’m close, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!”
“my baby’s close?” he echoes. beads of sweat drip down his chin and mix with yours on your body. you didn’t think he could get any rougher but he proves you otherwise with his incessant rolling and tapping on your throbbing bud. he leans back to allow his free hand to play with your tits—kneading, pinching and rolling at your sensitive nipples with calloused fingers. “go on, baby. make a mess all over my cock before i fill you up, can you do that for me?”
all of the stimulations are piling up. you can’t focus on one thing at all; everything is too much all at once and the knot in your stomach is tightening dangerously. every shove and drag of his cock within your walls leave you gasping for hair, sucking him back in desperately when he withdraws himself. the sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills your ears, your moans bouncing off the walls in tandem with jaemin snapping his hips against yours. your eyes fly open—when had they shut?—to look at your boyfriend whose dark eyes burn with a feral desire to make you come undone.
“what’s wrong, baby? need me to talk you through your orgasm?” as if your body doesn’t feel hot enough already, your cheeks burn and you weakly manage a nod. he grins, clearly proud that he has this effect on you. “c’mon baby, i know you want my cum to fill you up. don’t you? i know you can do it for me, i’m close too. make a mess all over my fat cock and show me who this tight cunt belongs to.”
his words are all that it takes to bring you your sweet release. his name is ripped from your throat as your orgasm hits you in a dangerous wave, pussy clamping down on him and forming milky white rings around his cock. jaemin doesn’t stop pounding recklessly into you nor does he stop toying with your clit, switching between tapping and rolling the bud as he helps you ride out your high while he chases after his own.
“so good, you’re so fucking good for me,” he groans. the wet squelching sounds get lewder with every drag of his cock through your fluttering walls. you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it but for some reason you are. your boyfriend doesn’t give you enough time to think about it as his thrusts get sloppier and he starts to lose his rhythm. “fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry for me. your cunt’s so fucking good, so tight f’me, fuck! i’m gonna cum, you gonna let me fill your needy pussy up, angel?”
“yes, fuck, yes!” both of your hands reach out to cup his face to direct his gaze onto you. “need you to fill me up, jaemin. wanna be dripping full of your cum. cum for me, baby.” your words act as the catalyst to helping him come undone.
his hips stutter against yours, face scrunching up and eyes fluttering shut as your name comes in a long, whiny drag from his throat. his cock twitches once, twice, before you’re filled with his hot seed. the sensation makes your shoulders tense up slightly, quietly moaning at the warmth.
jaemin, while still buried deep inside of you, carefully maneouvres himself so you’re both lying down on the bed. he makes an effort to pull you close into his chest and let him be your mattress to avoid hurting you. both of you are panting heavily, lightheaded from the dizzying pleasure as the after-sex buzz crawls underneath your skin.
“you feeling okay, pretty?” he’s the first to check in on you, turning his head to the side. he reaches his hand out to push locks of your hair that are stuck to your face. in his peripheral vision, he catches the bite marks and faint scratches that adorn his bicep and he laughs through his nose. “jesus christ, babe. sure did a number on me this time, huh?”
his words are swirling in your head and you grin lazily while looking up at him.
“you should look at yourself in the mirror next, handsome.” he cracks another smile at the slight slur in your speech, obviously worn from the spontaneous session.
jaemin lovingly leans into you to press a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering as if he’s letting the affection pour from his soul and into yours.
“i love you, _____.” he confesses in a soft whisper—a confession meant only for you to hear. “let’s take a ten-minute break before i set up the bath so we can clean up, yeah?” his hand rests at your waist, thumb massaging circles and mindless shapes into the soft flesh.
“i love you too, jaemin.” you whisper back. “we can do that.” although your body is still buzzing from the aftermath of what might just be one of your most satisfying orgasms in the past week, you’re stubborn enough to want to take care of him too. in the safety of his arms, you allow yourself to succumb to the exhaustion as your eyelids slowly fall shut.
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is Jewish Voice for Peace actually Jewish? I've heard a couple different things about that but no sources
@gryphistheantlerqueen also asked:
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Whooo boy. So this has been sitting in the inbox for a few months, I wrote up a draft, and then it just sat... until this past week, when some new JVP BS hit the fan and gave me the kick to finish it.
Sooooo...
Verdict: Not Actually Jewish
(updated verdict after finding out about the “self-managed conversion” and “teacup mikvah”) Jewish, technically, and that "technically" is doing a lot of heavy lifting, and is actively debatable without access to a detailed breakdown of JVP’s actual membership rolls. 
In general summation, JVP is a far-left radical antizionist group that is headed by a few visibly antizionist Jews and whose membership rolls are either a strong minority or outright majority of non-Jews, based on variable statistics that they've released. Although they claim that the “majority of their members and staff are Jewish”, this seems to be both statistically unlikely and actively suspicious due to their noted tendency to instruct even non-Jewish members to speak #AsAJew on social media, and their instructions to do “self-managed conversions”.  However, due to their title, they are very popular with people who want a Jewish Stamp Of Approval for demonizing Israelis and Zionist Jews as a result. In effect, they are Jewish in the same way that people like Candace Owens and Hershel Walker are Black—as self-tokenizing minorities who throw the rest of their ethnic group under the bus in exchange for power and political access.
And despite the claims that they are “inspired by Jewish values and traditions” (as put on their website) and “oppose anti-Jewish hatred,” JVP routinely engages in antisemitic rhetoric, up to and including blood libel and antisemitic conspiracy theories, and acts as a shield against non-Jews who also engage in antisemitic rhetoric so long as the non-Jews in question remember to shout "For Palestine!" first. This is not an exaggeration. 
The primary example of their in-house antisemitic rhetoric is their "Deadly Exchange" program, where they explicitly and conspiratorially blame Israel as being responsible for American police brutality and militarization. However, for all of their fearmongering and blame-casting on the subject—as if American cops needed outside help in brutalizing minorities or gaining military-grade handmedowns from the Pentagon, both of which are explicit claims of the "Deadly Exchange" program—they have a hard time actually identifying specific deaths associated with the international training seminars they're holding up as responsible.
One of the the closest they've come to a specific allegation is claiming that "former St. Louis County police chief Timothy Fitch trained with the Israeli military three years before Michael Brown’s killing and the Ferguson uprising." (Note: this was in a video that appears to have since been made private.) But Darren Wilson worked for the Ferguson PD, not the St. Louis PD, and Fitch retired months before the killing. So he was in a completely different police department, and this is the closest JVP comes to pointing to specific deaths or acts of brutality that they blame on Israel. Everything else is literal fearmongering--up to and including the classic conspiratorial tropes of "secretive Jewish governmental influence".
JVP has also happily supported the words of white supremacists like Richard Spencer, taking his “You could say that I’m a white Zionist in the sense that I care about my people," statement at face value, using it as the basis for entire articles where they compared Zionism to White Supremacy as a deliberate misrepresentation of the ideology that is common on the extreme political Left (you can compare that treatment again with how Candace Owens treats the word "Woke" on the Right). Even when the Charlottesville "Unite the Right" march happened, JVP wasted no time in comparing Zionism with the very ideology fueling the people chanting "Jews Will Not Replace Us," saying that Zionism is "Jewish racial supremacy" and calling for a universal condemnation of the ideology as a form of White Supremacy... which was the exact sort of message that many of those same White Supremacists would have happily agreed with.  So JVP is essentially siding with literal White Supremacists,  even as they claim that "Jews are not the primary victims of White Supremacy."
JVP also engages in Holocaust revisionism, such as with this lovely quote from Cecilie Surasky, the deputy director of JVP, “I believe it is critical to situate the genocide of Jews in a broader context, and not as an exceptional, metaphysically unique event. Some 6 million Jews died, but another 5 million people were also targeted for annihilation.”
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(another quote, from an article by Surasky, which compares Netanyahu to Hitler.)
This is just straight revisionism of the entire Holocaust and the unique fixation the Nazis had on the Jews. Literally, even when they were losing, they were diverting resources from the war just to kill more Jews. Quote Hitler himself, "Jews must be prevented from intruding themselves among all the other nations as elements of internal disruption, under the mask of honest world-citizens, and thus gaining power over these nations." The very basis of the Nazi ideology paints Jews as an existential threat to the human race's peace and security—a far cry from JVP's claim that the Jewish suffering in the Holocaust wasn't unique or exceptional.
Additionally, JVP ignores or re-envisions Mizrachi Jewish history. They call the very term Mizrachi “Zionist rhetoric,” and refer to Mizrachi “immigrants,” (“Deadly Exchange,” pg. 16-17), and claim “the Israeli government facilitated a mass immigration of Mizrahim” (“Our Approach to Zionism”) as though those weren’t the direct result of the mass expulsion of and violence against Jews in MENA countries. These weren’t immigrants, these were refugees. 
And as for the question of “Are they Jewish?”, well...
Statistically, they are not representative of the Jewish population as a whole, 90% of whom identify as some degree of Zionist in the sense of “Supporting Jewish self-determination.”  One does not need to be Jewish to join JVP, as they proudly state on their website. Their membership rolls are also extremely obfuscated, and the fact that they encourage their followers, whether Jewish or not, to post and speak “as Jews” on social media makes it even more difficult to figure out what percentage of their membership is actually Jewish.  Furthermore, they have instructions for their members to engage in “self-conversions” that are not acceptable to Jewish law or tradition, and misuse/appropriate other sacred Jewish traditions to the point that “blasphemy” is an accurate description, with their instructions on the mikvah (a sacred bath) being outright offensive.  
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(note that one has to be completely nude and bare of any adornment or makeup to use the mikvah, which is a pure pool of collected rainwater to be immersed in, for context on the above... misuse.  Trying to claim this as being “in line with sacred Jewish tradition” is like trying to claim to be Catholic while also saying that the Pope is the Antichrist and that using beer and a doughnut for the Eucharist is acceptable. For more information on mikveh, see: The Jewish Virtual Library, Aish, myjewishlearning, or Chabad.
There's also no altar.
The irony of asking people not to appropriate while doing this is astonishing.)
It’s also telling that they straight up say they are “claiming” the practice as their own.
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Furthermore, JVP has hosted panels on “antisemitism” in the past... headed by people who are not only not Jewish, but who have been credibly accused of antisemitism in the past.  
JVP has also endorsed The Mapping Project Boston, which was a Boycott, Divest, and Sanction (BDS) subsidiary, listing every “Zionist” organization in Boston, Mass. This included Jewish schools, elder homes, community centers, disability centers, and more; all of them painted with scary and misleading “links” to non-Jewish organizations to insinuate Jewish control of the state and city governments, invoking age-old antisemitic tropes of a conspiracy of Jews as they did so:
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(first image is the Mapping Project, the second is a 1938 Nazi political cartoon)
The Mapping Project also, and this is my personal favorite, accused Harvard University of doing “racist science” for engaging in archeological and genetic studies of Jews and Jewish history.  Tellingly, BDS actually disavowed The Mapping Project (albeit for bad optics, not for the rank antisemitism they were promoting)... but JVP has not, even though the Mapping Project’s entry for the ADL reads as follows:
Masquerading as a “civil rights” group, the ADL is a counterinsurgency and espionage organization whose mission is to protect the mutual interests of the US and Israeli governments, and to eliminate solidarity among oppressed peoples, especially concerning Palestine. The ADL spies on and criminalizes activists (using its connections to governments, police, schools, and corporations) while undermining their work by pushing its own state-sanctioned, pro-“Israel” agenda. And while the ADL claims to represent Jews and to fight “antisemitism” on their behalf, the organization has supported anti-Jewish state violence and sanitized Nazis. The ADL cannot be reformed: it must be dismantled and whatever resources it has should go towards repairing the many harms it has done. (Emphasis added.)
Of course, JVP has also engaged in similar conspiracy-toned antisemitic dogwhistles, such as this fun bit from their first Deadly Exchange video:
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So clearly (to me at least), they have no problems with The Mapping Project’s tone and presentation.  
And this isn’t even going into JVP’s routine promotion of blood libel, their egregious double standards, their approving of pogroms, their active support for Hamas terrorists and demonization of Hamas’ victims, their attempted revisionism of Jewish history, their abject rejection of Jewish culture, and their other actions that show not just bias, but outright hatred for 90% of the world’s Jews.  
As one commentator put it, JVP as an organization is very much like Autism Speaks is to Autistic people--a thinly disguised hate group that views the people they’re supposedly speaking for as the problem, and themselves as promoting the Solution.  To this moderator, they’re the equivalent of the Association of German National Jews, who were also known as the Jews for Hitler; they wanted to abandon Judaism and embrace Naziism... and they got sent to the gas chambers anyway.  
Mod Joseph
Sources:
www.adl.org/resources/backgrounder/jewish-voice-peace
www.jewishvoiceforpeace.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Mikveh-Guide-for-Jewish-Voice-for-Peace-Outlined.pdf
(and also just... a general experience/exposure to them on social media, where even the most progressive actions taken by Israel, such as the recent ruling regarding queer Palestinians being able to claim sanctuary in Israel, being labeled as “pinkwashing”)
900 notes · View notes
valeskafics · 5 months
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"Loathe To Love" - Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader
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a/n: request for kinktober which spiraled into a oneshot hehehe 💕
Summary: You love Aemond. And you hate him for it.
TW: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, hatefucking, overstim, breeding kink, p in v sex, oral f receiving, fingering
Word Count: 2,500 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon or Fire and Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️
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Aemond has to admit the entire reason he has any interest in this Driftmark debacle is you. He remembers spending time with you in King’s Landing, before your mother spirited you all away to Dragonstone. You were his dearest friend and closest confidante, that is until that fateful night when he lost his eye. He remembers how horrified you looked when he held Jace by the throat, ready to hit his head with a rock. And in his moment of hesitation, little Luke slashed at his eye.
It has been several years since that night and he paces the halls of the Red Keep, like a lion that has been caged for far too long. He is restless, dreaming of your reunion. He has already seen your brothers, but you were not with them when they came to the training yard. He sees you walking toward the throne room, for the first time in so long. His breath catches in his chest. You are every bit as beautiful as he imagined you would be, if not more. And gods, he even finds you pretty with that little scowl you shoot his way.
“Uncle.”
“Niece,” he smirks, “How delightful to see you. Though, I must ask… You have no stake in this hearing. Why are you here?”
“I am here to support my brother,” you reply through gritted teeth, “I am his elder sister after all.”
“Ah, yes. Little Lord Strong. No surprise you are supporting the whelp.”
“Oh,” you sneer, “And Vaemond is so much better? Foul-mouthed and ill-tempered? Luke is my mother’s second son. Laenor’s second son. He is the rightful Lord of the Tides and you had best accept that.”
“That little bastard is no true Velaryon,” Aemond scoffs, looking you from head to toe, admiring the ways in which you have grown into a woman.
You narrow your eyes, glaring at him, “Trying to cast doubt on our parentage. How very much like your mother you are, Uncle, I would find it impressive if it were not so pathetic.”
“And you,” he says, reaching for your wrists, pulling you close to him, his voice a low murmur with an edge of flirtatiousness as he speaks, “You are nothing like your mother, my sweet niece.”
You let out a noise of displeasure, snatching your hands back from him, “Do not dare speak of my mother, your future queen, with anything less than the utmost respect.”
“You are so uptight. I do not recall you being like this,” he says, a hint of mockery in his voice as he continues to gaze upon your figure without shame, “You know, if you were to be my wife, I would treat you with the utmost respect.”
“Ha! Your wife?” The word tastes acrid in your mouth, “I am quite sure my mother will be announcing mine and my dearest twin Jacaerys’ betrothal during this visit, so no, I shall not be your wife.”
“I am the best match for you,” he retorts, “Your little twin is nothing compared to me.”
“You have now insulted not one but two of my brothers,” you snark, “Is Joffrey next? Or perhaps one of the babes!”
Aemond snickers, “What’s the matter, darling niece? Getting a bit overprotective, are we?”
“I will always protect my family,” you all but snarl at him, “Especially from the likes of you and your pernicious mother.”
He regards you for a moment before taking a step toward you, reaching a hand out to touch you cheek, not bothering to hide that he is visibly smitten with you, “You may not be a true Velaryon, but gods, you are a true Targaryen. Your anger runs as hot as mine.” You slap his hand away, shoving past him, only for Aemond to grab you by the shoulder, turning you to face him, “You know that anger of yours is what drives me so crazy for you.”
“Then you’re about to be driven absolutely insane.”
Aemond gasps as you slap him across the cheek and storm away. He can feel his skin smarting as he raises his hand to his face, but he smiles, watching the sway of your hips as you disappear into the throne room.
Yes, he thinks, he is most definitely in love with you.
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At dinner that evening, the two of you are seated beside each other. However, you ignore Aemond’s attempts at friendly conversation in favor of speaking with Jace. Aemond continues to stare at you, hunger in his remaining eye, watching as you and your twin communicate in that way only twins can, without words. You burst into laughter at a face Jace makes at you, and he at the one you shoot him in return. He crosses his eyes and you cover your mouth, giggling almost hysterically. Aemond feels his rage and jealousy threatening to overcome him. How he wishes he was the one who could make you laugh and smile that way.
You’re entirely taken by surprise when he stands, extending his hand to you and asking you to dance. You stare at him, dubious and a bit annoyed.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Why would I not want to dance with the most beautiful girl at this feast?” Aemond grins wryly, “Dance with me, niece.”
“I would rather feed myself to my dragon-” You are cut off by a sharp glare from your mother, prompting you to let out a sigh and relent, “Very well, kepus.”
Aemond takes you by the hand, holding you close to him, eye still locked on you with that ravenous gaze.
“Oh, quit looking at me like that. I know your game, Aemond,” you say, annoyed.
He smirks once again, leaning in close, his nose nearly brushing against yours, “You do? What game am I playing exactly?”
“You are trying to get a rise out of Jace,” you respond coolly, “It’s pathetic, Uncle.”
Aemond shakes his head, “I do not care for Jacaerys nor do I wish to get a rise out of him. He makes me angry and jealous, but all I want right now is you.”
“And you will never have me,” you say sharply.
“And why not? I will have you one day, my love, and I shall never let you go-”
“Do not call me that,” you snap, attempting to pull away from him, “Whatever friendship we had as children is over. Whatever affection I once harbored for you is withered and dead.”
Aemond feels his blood begin to boil beneath his skin, eye narrowing as he replies, “Why are you fighting me?”
“Because I loathe you!”
He hates you. Truly, he does. But it only makes him want you all the more. Love you all the more. Crave your approval all the more. The dance ends and you curtsy while Aemond bows, the two of you returning to your seats. It is then that your betrothal starts being discussed by your mother and Daemon. With Jace now betrothed to Baela, as was announced in the throne room, it leaves you quite without a fiance. Your stepfather suggests Lord Stark, and you take no little amount of joy in the way Aemond’s jaw stiffens at the suggestion, knuckles going white as he grips his wine goblet.
“I could always marry you,” he says under his breath.
“I would rather stick pins in my eyes,” you hiss, getting up and leaving the hall, your skirts billowing behind you.
No one at the table takes note of your departure, nor Aemond’s when he follows after you, too absorbed in their own conversations.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your bloody business!”
Aemond follows you down the hall, “Oh, come back here! I need to speak with you. Or are you off to find some secret lover? Is that why you refuse to look me in the eye?”
You round on him, nostrils flaring with anger, “What an accusation.”
He takes a step closer to you, staring down his nose, a smirk playing on his lips as he mocks, “Then what are you doing running off like this? Who are you seeing?”
“Fuck you,” you snarl angrily, “I am not seeing anyone.”
“That is not entirely true,” he says, the two of you taking another step closer to each other, “You can see me. I can make you. I can make you feel me, love me.”
If you were a lesser woman, you might find his tone menacing, but instead, you glare up at him, eyes narrowed, “You are the last man on earth I could ever be prevailed upon to love.”
Aemond takes you by the wrists, pulling you close to him, his eye burning into yours, his desire making it hard for him to control himself, “You know I want you. And you know you want me.”
And like two magnets drawn to each other, your lips collide in an angry, passionate kiss, teeth clashing, biting, your hands tangled in his hair while his arms wrap around your waist. There is no space between the two of you now as he holds you close, pushing you up against the wall. His hands move to squeeze your arse before he drops down to his knees, pushing your skirts up and gazing at you.
“I hate you,” you manage to eke out, “Gods, I fucking despise you.”
You moan softly as he nips at your inner thigh before placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your cunt, lapping at it hesitantly. Seeing the way you tremble at his touch, he buries his tongue inside you, nuzzling his nose against your pearl, loving the way you nails scratch at his scalp. He grips your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh in his large, calloused hands, continuing to move his tongue in and out of you.
“I loathe you,” you insist, whimpering slightly, “I hate you so much.”
He ignores your words and continues tasting you, thinking to himself that he now understands why Aegon enjoys the act so much. He could do this till the day he dies. You reach your peak against his tongue, but he only moves to replace it with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you slowly while he mouths at your pearl, flattening his tongue against it. You lean back against the wall, allowing him to continue, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter as he rips another climax from you. And yet, he continues, suckling at your sensitive nub, adding a third finger, filling you more than ever before, as if he wishes to prepare you for something. You try moving away from him half-heartedly, the pleasure being almost too much to bear, but he holds you in place, his fingers brushing against the rough patch deep inside of you that you are never quite able to reach, grinning as you spill yourself on his fingers.
He stands to his full height, undoing his breeches as he kisses you once more, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He hikes your legs around his hips, smacking the head of his cock against your pearl, reveling in the little moan you let out.
“If we get caught, I am laying the blame entirely at your feet,” you say, trying to maintain your glare.
He smirks, kissing you once more as he enters you, swallowing your moan with his kiss. Your arms wrap around him, face buried in the crook of his neck as he snaps his hips against yours, moaning at the feeling of your walls squeezing around his cock.
“Gods, I hate you. I hate you so much,” you whisper against his skin, kissing his neck, biting down on it as if to stake your claim.
Aemond pounds into you over and over, holding you as close to himself as he possibly can, his voice a low growl in your ear, “You may hate me, but you do not want anyone else.”
“Hate you,” you say, lips finding his as you try to assert your dominance over him, biting down on his lower lip, “Fucking hate you.”
“Love me,” he all but pleads in your ear, rolling his hips against yours, “You love me. You know it. You need me.”
“I hate that you’re right. I love you and I hate myself for it,” you admit, crying out his name as you reach your peak, letting out another mewl as he continues fucking you through it.
“Going to fuck you full of my seed,” he says through gritted teeth, his own end fast approaching, “Going to marry you. Make you my wife. Breed you every night. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want to marry me.”
You are too overwhelmed by pleasure to answer and let out a yelp when he gives you a smack on your arse to get your attention, “Hey!”
He chuckles, kissing you again, putting every bit of his love, his lust, his need into the kiss, pulling back only to ask, “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” you say, eyes locking on his as he brings you closer and closer to your end once again, “I still despise you. I shall marry you if only to make you miserable.”
Aemond shakes his head, smiling, “I do not think I could ever be miserable with you by my side.”
His hips stutter against yours as you squeeze around him once more, impossibly tight, triggering his own release as he spends himself deep inside you. The two of you lean against the wall, gazing at each other, a bit dazed.
You break the silence, “That was…”
He laughs breathlessly, “Amazing?”
You nod, brushing your lips against his, “It was.”
“Will you marry me?” Aemond asks once again, wanting to hear you affirm your love for him once more.
You nod, pulling him in for another kiss, “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met and it makes me love you all the more.”
“And you are the most irritating woman I have ever met and it is the reason I love you so,” Aemond rests his forehead against yours, closing his eye as he vows, “I will love you until my dying day.”
“Only till then?” You tease playfully, “I will love you even in death. My spirit shall haunt you until you join me.”
“I shall hope to die first, for I never want to live without you,” Aemond replies, nipping at your lower lip, chuckling at your giggles.
“Perhaps we shall die at the same time, having annoyed each other to death,” you say before his lips find yours again.
“I can think of no better way to leave this world than by your side.”
“Then take me to Dragonstone,” you say, “Make me your wife.”
“I will,” he vows, “But first, I simply must have you again.”
You glance around the corner, giving him a devious grin, and drag him off to your chambers, “What are we waiting for?”
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cogentranting · 1 year
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Rating Non-Disney Animated Horse Designs
I’m back by popular demand/well not really but my optimism’s grand
A sequel to my Disney horse Rating post for all the other random non-Disney horses. Dreamworks, Bluesky, random cartoons, anything I could find. Featuring: Altivo, Spirit, some Barbie horses, and a few abominations.
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Horse (Sing)
6/10 I don’t hate it and I feel like I should because it’s really hard to anthropomorphize horses that much without making them into the stuff of nightmares.
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Shadowfax (The Lord of the Rings) 
5/10 There’s nothing WRONG with him per se, but it’s SHADOWFAX. Lord of all horses. He should wow me, and he doesn’t. Check out Gandalf’s weird sock-boots though. 
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Hervé (Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper) 
-6/10 Horses' mouths don’t look like that. Horses’ mouths should not look like that. This thing wants to eat human flesh but can’t because it has two solid curved huge teeth with no physical  relationship with its jaw. Also this horse has the beginnings of male-pattern baldness. 
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Princess Brietta (Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus)
1/10 Her eyes are flat like they’ve been painted onto her socketless skull. And there’s something very off-putting about this shade of pink. 
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Beauty, Merry Legs, Ginger (Black Beauty) 
4/10 Ginger isn’t ginger. That is not a sorrel horse. There’s ONE requirement. Beauty’s the best of the three which is I guess what counts. 
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Hans, Klaus and Greta (Ferdinand) 
2/10 I hate them so much. The core design isn’t that bad but the way they move and pose is. No horse should make that face. The one on the left is stretched putty.
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The Grand Chawhee (All Dogs Go to Heaven)
I know what you’re thinking-- “isn’t that a mule or a donkey of some sort?” No. He’s a racehorse. Maybe a thoroughbred. And it’s his birthday so the other horses let him win. 
9/10
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Stella (All Dogs Go to Heaven)
1/10 She gets one point for being nice to Chawhee. But she’s clearly some sort of alien giraffe hybrid. 
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Odette’s horse (Swan Princess) 
7/10 Just a nice little palomino design.  
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That little shaggy pony (The Quest for Camelot)
12/10 Amazing. Look at the determination.
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Buck (Barnyard) 
2/10 See this is what that horse from Sing COULD have looked like. 
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The Horse in the Back, Not Klaus But I Couldn’t FInd a Better Picture (Klaus)
9/10 He matches his owner and I respect that
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Leah (The Star) 
4/10 This is horse is voiced by Kelly Clarkson. That has nothing to do with her rating, I just thought you should know. 
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(Starchaser: The Legend of Orin) 
8/10 for both. I have questions but I do not want answers. It’s better this way. 
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Fred (Over the Garden Wall)
7/10 don’t love that his head is a different color than his body in a weird way but he looks neurotic and fun. 
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The Chariot Horses (Prince of Egypt)
8/10 I’ve just always liked these guys with their square faces and fun hats. 
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Altivo (The Road to El Dorado)
7/10 Look at the little curl in his mane. Good personality. A little too much “Dreamworks Face” 
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Donkey in Horse Form (Shrek 2? one of the Shreks) 
3/10 Look at his face. I DREAD what he might have to say. 
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Esmeralda, Esperanza, Ernestina (Madgascar 3)
2/10 They’re coming for you. Coming to drag you into the Abyss. 
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Police Horse (Madagascar)
7/10 I like his face shape. Compare him to the Madgascar 3 horses-- look how much more identifiable as a horse he is. 
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Melvin (The Lorax)
10/10 He’s not a horse, but he’s so fluffy I love him. 
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Babieca (Puss in Boots)
4/10 This horse has dead eyes. 
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Onyx (Rise of the Guardians) 
13/10 She’s the leader of the nightmares and I would fully support her terrorizing the dreams of children. I’m pretty sure she and her mares ate the boogie man. A true Girlboss.
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Yi Min (Kung Fu Panda but I think just an online game) 
-20/10 Just from a design perspective there’s far too much going on so it’s hard to even make it all out. Also I would have zero idea that this was a horse if the wiki page didn’t tell me it was. It has split hooves? 
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Spirit Jr. (Spirit: Riding Free) 
8/10 Objectively I know the design is good  but my heart rebels against this show’s existence. 
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Boomerang Thomas Stone (Spirit: Riding Free) 
8/10 I’m not doing all the horses from this show but I had to throw him in because he’s cute and he has a middle and last name for some reason.
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Horse (Centaurworld) 
Why are there two distinctly different designs for her? This one gets a 9/10. The round one is like... a 5. All the other creatures in this show are eldritch abominations that will haunt me in my sleep now. 
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Esperanza and all the other horses from this movie (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 
10/10 No notes. Perfect horses. 
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Rain (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 
15/10 I don’t have a joke here I just really like the way they differentiated her and made her pretty without too much anthropomorphizing. I like that she has a roman nose.  I like her feather. 
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Spirit (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron)
100/10 He’s everything. He shaped me as a person. No other animated horse can compare. 
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monarchberrysblog · 8 days
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𝔩𝔢𝔱’𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔲𝔭 | 🍓🤎
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18+ Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader
Summary: After arguing with Miguel over a touchy subject, you both come to a consensus.
Content Warning ⚠️: Soft! Dom! Miguel, Dacryphilia?, Praise (from Miguel), little nicknames (Mainly cariño and neña), and a little bit of Miguel being a complete munch. (if you don't know what that means, you're too young to read my content.) The reader is a pillow princess, overstimulation (nothing new), and unprotective P in V. (wrap it before you tap it). Miguel talks the reader through it, and Miguel cries. (I wish I were playing) (NOT PROOFREAD) (OOC MIGUEL)
Word Count: 3.1k+ words (holy shit…)
Author's Notes: Well, this occurred to me while soaking my hair in rice water 😭 But in all seriousness, here’s something sweet but smutty 😗😋 Hope you all enjoy it. If there are some plot holds, I'm sorry. I've been busy recently.
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To my girlies who have a praise kink, your secret is safe with Miguel. 💌
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It had been two weeks since you spoke to Miguel, let alone share a bed.
Miguel regretted that he yelled at you or how he compared you to Dana, his former lover. The truth was, you were far better than Dana. You were kind, patient, and understanding of his responsibilities as Spider-Man. He didn't know what came to him when he compared you, a literal angel, to one of the worst partners he'd dated beforehand.
You remained a pillar of support and unwavering patience throughout his double life. Despite the countless tasks, you never once complained. You were there to tend to his wounds at the odd night hours, offering comfort and care. During the frigid winter months in Nueva York, you never failed to have a warm and nourishing soup ready to soothe his ailing body. But now, asking him to come home soon was too much?
"Dana would never complain about me coming home late!"
"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not her!"
The same argument returned for the last few days until one instance ended it. It was the same argument managed, but he managed to end it—not as you expected.
"I should have never dated you! You are so demanding. Dana would never be like this." The second he finished, he covered his mouth with his hands quickly and backed away from you. He wanted to take back his words, but you didn't give him that advantage. Your silence felt suffocating to hear and to be around. But the sight of your lips quivering and your eyes at the brink of spilling tears. The urge to run to you and to beg for forgiveness rushed through his veins.
Before even having the opportunity, you are running away from him into your shared bedroom, like a small rabbit running away from its predator to seek shelter in a small hole in the ground.
As soon as Miguel laid eyes on the scene before him, his stomach turned, and he felt like he would be sick. It wasn't just that he had acted up—the complete lack of remorse he felt at that moment truly frightened him. Meanwhile, seeing you trying to hold back tears made the situation unbearable. But when he heard you weeping in your bedroom, the guilt he felt just got magnified.
/
The sound of thunder boomed throughout the apartment complex. Usually, this made you want to grab a soft blanket and snuggle in Miguel's arms. However, the events that led to this said otherwise. He was out in Nueva York while you were bedridden. The sensation of your pillow against your cheek buried away the melancholy and the tears that your poor pillow always caught whenever you got upset.
The now old Victorian complex now creaks and settles down every other occasion. The sound of a muffled evangelical leader seeped through the thin walls, despite the number of complaints Miguel had told the older man to turn it down. But now? The preaching from the frustrated man drowns out your sorrows as thunder continues to rumble throughout the complex.
The window sliding open greets you, snapping you out of the evangelical preacher's words. Veering over your shoulder, you see your boyfriend, Miguel, crawling back into the apartment, closing the old window, preventing the downpour from creeping in and soaking the red oak floors. The sight of him changing into his sweats and undershirt was enough to make you blush, but you ignored your instincts. The simple 'hey' he greets you made you toss and turn on the bed, ignoring him.
Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the words "Cariño, por favor" uttered from behind you. Your mind was racing, and you wondered whether to turn around and face him. The temptation to forgive and forget lingered in your heart for a week, but what he had said had left an unforgettable mark. The hurt and pain were too much to ignore, and you knew deep down that it was time to move on—even though you were too adamant for your good.
A small sigh of defeat fills the mere pregnant pause in the air as the bed creaks under the added weight on the bed before settling down. The blankets bunched around your chest and near your chin comforted you despite the smell of it being your favorite fabric softener combined with his scent. "C'mere…" He groans, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a spooning position. A loud whine from you wasn't the response he was expecting. He expected a giggle when he did so, but an adverse reaction said otherwise.
"Please don't be upset, cariño. I didn't mean what I said about, well—" Miguel suddenly stops. There is no other way around it. He messed up big time, and can see the hurt in your eyes.
You weren't Dana, something that Miguel always took for granted—the memory of having to deal with someone so parasitic, like a brain-eating amoeba, was emotionally draining. Even thinking about it is enough to make anyone tired. The emotional unavailability was the thing that got to him when it came to her, knowing that she wasn't waiting for him and cared about herself instead. The artificial bullshit was the only thing she desired, such as the dates and the gifts, not the emotional side of things, such as aftercare.
"What I said, it was true. You're not like Dana," A pause filled the space as you waited for him to continue. "You're not her, and it's something I adore." The simple kiss to your temple made you liquefy in his arms, but you remained silent, giving the silent treatment. "And I'm sorry about what I said; it was something I said in the heat of the moment." A nuzzle to the pillow was the only response he received, along with the low rumble of thunder.
As his lips touched your temple, a wave of gentle affection washed over you. The kisses continued to rain down softly, dotting your forehead, cheeks, and finally, your lips, like a fluttering of delicate butterfly wings. A tiny grumble left from you, not wanting to cave into his little kisses and advances that you ever so adored dearly.
The harassment of sweet kisses ended after ten minutes, and you turned your body to face Miguel. "…hey."
"Hey, cariño…" He hums, sneaking a kiss to your lips, which you allow. "…hey." You repeated, not knowing what else to say. "Hi." Miguel chuckled from the back of his throat and planted another kiss on the forehead. You stayed silent for the longest time until you looked up at him from where you rested your head on his chest. "I'm sorry too—" Miguel covered your mouth with his hand, nearly covering your entire face. "No, don't apologize. This argument was all my fault." He pulled his hand away from your lips, and a subtle sigh left.
"I shouldn't have exploded over one little thing. You rarely ask for me to come home a little sooner." His fingers combed through your hair, occasionally fixing some knots. "It shows that you care; you want me to be at home, safe and warm…" The pitter-patter of rain continued to play a steady tempo like a metronome at an adagio, not too fast, yet a bit slow. "I'm sorry for giving a poor excuse for blowing my anger at you. It was… stupid." He breathes out. "I had no reason."
You hummed and nuzzled closer to him. "I forgive you…" You mumbled, soon curling up to him for his warmth. "I should have known that asking for you to come home sooner is a bit too much—" You were cut off once again with a kiss on your lips, muffling your words. After you stopped and returned the kiss, Miguel pulled away after a moment and ruffled your hair.
"No, cariño. None of this is your fault. The blame is all on me." He rubbed the back of your head with his hand, lightly massaging the nape of your neck with his thumb. A small chuckle escaped from him. Seeing your messy hair makes him smile at the sight you gave him. Usually, you would throw a fit about how you looked, especially when the two of you went out. But now, you seemed loosened up and mellow.
He embraced you tightly, nuzzling into your neck as soon as you returned it. "I missed you so much… I don't like being mad at you," you muttered, slowly rubbing your fingertips against the nape of his neck. Then you started playing with his hair. A small smile formed on your lips as you felt his soft waves against the pads of your fingers. "Even with your suit, your hair is always soft. It never fails to surprise me."
Miguel only gave you a chuckle before pulling you to rest on his body and planting a long kiss on your lips, which you happily reciprocated. The soft, supple kisses soon evolved into something hungry and messy. The soft caress around your waist soon became handsy and coping with a feeling of being on one another. "I missed you, nena…" He mumbles in between kisses.
His kisses moved from your lips, leaving a small trail from your neck to your collarbone and, finally, on your plush lower stomach. “Nena… let me, please…” With a rush, you nodded, rubbing your thighs together slowly. "Here, let's help you out…" Usually, the man would rip your underwear off, but this time, he held back. He patted your hips lovingly, gesturing for you to raise your hips. "Raise your hips for me." You obeyed immediately, soon squirming out of your underwear and helping Miguel.
His arms hooked around your thighs, dragging your upper half down onto the mattress and having your pussy close to Miguel's lips. "Look at that, that kiss got you all wet…" Before complaining that you could feel his breath against your sensitive clit, Miguel indulged himself, devouring you slowly and slurping any remnants of your arousal. "My god, you taste so good…" He shuddered in between your folds and soon probed his tongue at your entrance. The light flicks from the wet, active muscles tease you enough for you to grasp onto the duvet underneath you and moan deep from your throat. "Oh fuck, fuck me with it…"
Hum is the only response you accumulate as you feel the wet tongue slowly tease your fluttering hole and soon feel Miguel lightly push his tongue at your fluttering hole. A small, needy moan filled the space while the wet muscle made you arch your back against the mattress. "Fuck, I want it inside…" You urgently whine.
"What do you want, cariño? Use your words, m'kay?" He muttered, slowly pulling away from your pussy and taking the time to savor you.
"I want it…"
"You want what? Please tell me what you want." He cooed to you and rubbed his thumbs against your thighs. The light breathing against your clit and entrance didn't help your case. Your high was making it nearly impossible to get on top of him and to take regime.
"I want your cock… please."
After a few moments of your demands and feeling his soft breathing against your pussy, he slowly slid you back down onto the bed, laying you down on the bed gently. "C'mere…" Miguel whispers sweetly before he gently holds you close and slowly rubs his aching length against your folds. The sensation of the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your bare skin was enough for you to moan at the feeling. "Wait, this feels…" He paused and looked down at you. "Are we okay? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You could hear the sheer panic in his voice, but you only nodded, giving him the green light.
Reaching down, your hands worked quickly, and you pulled on his sweats and boxers. A low groan emits from Miguel, feeling his dick get freed from the restrictive clothing. "You wanna hump on my cock like a good girl?" He mumbles out heavily, slowly lowering himself and allowing his length to rub in between your folds slowly. "Oh god, slowly. Slowly, cariño…" He urgently breathes out, slowly letting his bulbous tip rub against your clit. The burning yet slippery sensation slowly builds up. The slow, sensual rubs are enough for more arousal to build up, making it feel like a slippery slide thanks to your arousal and Miguel's precum. "Mierda…"
"Do you want me to fuck you, and do you want my babies?"
You nodded immediately, squirming in underneath him on the mattress.
"C'mon, grab it and slide it in. You know how to do it."
It had been weeks since you'd had sex with Miguel, especially since the argument about Dana; it almost had been a month without any intimate contact. You slowly reached for his cock and lightly tapped his tip against your entrance, a little nervous about how it would be a tight fit. "Miguel?" You slowly whined, still holding onto his aching cock. "Do you need any help?" He hums, slowly getting himself comfortable. "It's been a while…"
He nods before he grabs his cock and helps you slowly push himself in. "Shit!" He suddenly hisses out, barely letting his tip inside of you while you claw at his arms and groan. "You are tight…" You looked down and saw that your poor partner barely kept it together. "Give me a moment, nena…" He murmurs out quietly, slowly thrusting his tip at your entrance.
"Just the tip?" You sweetly suggested, looking down again, seeing how desperately he wanted his length to disappear by simply slowly pumping into you. "Maybe… Just the tip…" Miguel nods, slowly letting his tip probe at your entrance.
/
The sounds of labored breathing and moans filled the apartment, drowning out the evangelical preacher from next door, along with the angry bangs from the other neighbors. "I want you…" You breathed out, slowly feeling him sink in his length until his happy trail brushed against your clit. "Then you can have me. I'm yours to do as you please." His voice was like warm molasses, a sweet honey running down with sweet venom.
Another shout from the older man next door causes Miguel to roll his eyes as he slowly thrusts into you, allowing his mushroom tip to brush against your cervix. "Shut up!" Miguel yelled out to the angry neighbor and returned his focus to you. "Can we go a little faster?" You meekly suggested while slowly moving on his length. "Ay, cariño…"
The sensation of his length twitching inside of you is enough to have the man nearly cave in and thrust into your fluttering walls to end the slow overstimulation on his tip. "Easy, easy…" He breathed out weakly, slowly grasping onto your hips. His talons digging into your flesh felt like tiny needles lightly prickling at your thumb while sewing. "You're a little tight, and it's been a hot minute." His breathy groan filled the space immediately, slowly moving in and out of your fluttering hole. Not listening to his demands, you began to move your hips down and slid with ease, allowing your arousal to cream on his length. "Let's piss the neighbor off."
It was a sick, twisted fantasy to anger your neighbors, especially with the fact that y'all had thin walls in the time-old apartment that could drive anyone crazy. Mainly because the older neighbors around y'all are rowdy and complain about every little noise you or Miguel produced, most the sound of a blender or even if some music played a little too loud to their liking. But to you and him, it was time to get back at them and be as noisy as possible.
His pace was languid yet deep, taking his time while letting out low, rough grunts. “You're doing well, cariño.” You respond weakly by letting out a mewl and only let your fluttering wall convey the message more. “I'm trying…” You whined, bringing him to your embrace. “Can you go a little faster?” You plead, feeling the slow, delicious burn from his girth. “You sure? I don't want to hurt you.” He nuzzled close to your neck, leaving tiny kisses.
“I can handle it.” You pant, slowly sink yourself into him, pushing yourself down on him. The veins running down his length brushed against your clit deliciously, with a loud mewl filling in the apartment. “Please, please, please.” You plead out loud. “I'm on birth control, please.”
“I want you to—” One quick thrust ended your words. A sudden scream of pleasure filled the space, feeling Miguel’s merciless tempo. “Oh fuck! Yes! Keep it at that!” You demanded while being underneath him. “Baby, I'm a little—”
The wanton moans filled the space while the banging of the neighbor on your apartment walls made this nothing but filthy. “Shut up!” Your hoarse demands filled the space while you banged your fist against the wall. His unrelenting tempo continued, feeling that burn you ever so missed desperately.
The wet, squelching noise made the scene more lewd for Miguel, along with your shared bed creaking underneath the two of you, barely holding on with whatever strength it could conjure up. You are underneath him while he can feel your arousal coat his length along with his precum. The pace felt nothing but filthy and desperate. The feeling of tiny water droplets landed on your cheeks, causing you to wipe them off before you look up and see your partner, your usual aloof, stoic partner, shedding tears before you. The rough pace continued as you clawed at his back, leaving faint, red marks before you felt your rippling finish come to you and embraced Miguel tightly. “Please, I'm close…”
With one single thrust, you felt him twitch inside you before putting his heavy load in you.
“You okay?” You peeped out to him while feeling him slowly slide out and wiping away his tears. “Yes, I'm fine. Just overstimulated myself a little.” Slowly, he pulls out, earning a tiny groan from you and immediately pulls you into a warm embrace. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” You shook your head no, taking in shallow breaths. “No, I'm okay. Just a little sore.” You mumble quietly. Little sore was an understatement…
“C’mere…” He pants out, pulls you into a warm embrace, and plants soft, lazy kisses on your temple and cheeks. “You did so good…” The lazy, slow presses of his body against you felt like a weighted blanket, along with his chest heaving against yours. His hands roamed your body, allowing his fingers to trace light patterns and memorize you. “What do you want for dinner, cariño? Do you want me to prepare you something or do you want that one pizza you like on Main Street?” He murmurs from your shoulder, not wanting to get off of you. An incomprehensive mumble is the only thing that responds to him.
“Pizza it is, then.”
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silkythewriter · 2 months
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Angel on fire
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Warnings!: Angst(?), love triangle!, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors! (part 2)
Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!
Author note!: WOWZA HELLO I DIDNT THINK PEOPLE WOULD LIKE THE 1ST ONE SO MUCH?! TYSM FOR TGE SUPPORT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!
Summary!: “you are as beautiful as the moon my dear.” He said with the sweeting smile you adored. “And your as deadly as the sun I fear, my love” you answered oh so bitter-fully.
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“Cause those are my words, not yours
As far as I'm concerned, it could've been a lot worse
I wasn't trying to avoid the confrontation
She isn't crying, she's just making conversation”
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“Look.. Adam-“ you said desperately before being cut off “no fucking way!” He chuckled “your actually side-ing with those shit bags?!” He said looking at you. You only glared at him, before huffing softly “watch your language…” You said with a with a small frown. Making his eyebrows crunch together as he closed his eyes with a huff. “For fuck sake do you know what those.. scums even did to end up there!” He said angrily. You steady your breath, with him you had too, you knew how he was but you just had too keep poking at him. Or get something other then a no, If you did you were sure to lose your mind.
“Adam, Just listen!, I think this could benefit heaven as well! More extra time means more time to do what you want. Wouldn’t you like that?” You tried reasoning as you cupped his hands in yours only for him to push it away. “Don’t test me Y/n, this is my job.” He spat out, making you wince. “Why are you pushing on this so hard anyways!, you have all you could want here. You barely have to lift a finger why are you so concerned for them?” He said crossing his arms. “They were humans once Adam, just like you, just like me. We’re no different, they just messed up once and we’re sent to an eternal furnace with no escape!” You said holding your hands to your chest. “Please! I’m nothing like them, I was the first fucking human soul in heaven, no one compares to me.” He laughed out. “So what does that mean about me?” You said with furrowed brows. He sighed heavily before speaking “Angel, listen to your self, your the only other person I really give a shit about. Well other then lute I guess” he shrugged as he rested his arm on the arm rest and laid his head in his palm boredly. “Look don’t worry your little gorgeous self about a thing. This ain’t your field!” He laughed.
You had patience, and you had tolerance. But his disrespect set you off. But you knew in your head that fighting someone like himself wouldn’t end well. You already had more leeway then most due to your, well close relationship with Adam. But you had to keep trying, after all angels don’t break promises.
With a heavy sigh you bowed before excusing your self. Which he quickly called out to you in confusion. But you only kept walking to your room, you were a patient one, but dealing with him proves to be a handful. You needed to think of a way to at least push it back one more month.
Just one more month
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“What’s good cherry pimp” Angel dust asked as he threw himself on the couch sluggishly. “All day you’ve been hummin’ and tappin’ what’s on your mind?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow up as he put his gaze on Alastor. Alastor smile only grew, his mind filled with your intoxicating self. To him you very much everything, from the first day he was damned, till now all his mind was filled was you. But now more then ever, seeing you after all these decades was a shot of electricity to his very dead heart. You hadn’t change a bit since the last time he laid eyes on you. You were still angelic as ever.
Again he was swept up in his mind but quickly flicked back to reality, swaying softly as he hummed. “Oh nothing, my dear friend, old acquaintances I have recently seen after some time!” He said in his usual radio voice. “Yea I’m surprised anyone would be friends with you. Not to be rude or nothin’ but your fuckin’ creepy pal” angel said as he laughed  as he waved his hands. Alastor only smirked in amusement as he took his leave. 
He should have known someone of the likes of you would end up where most wouldn’t. He wasn’t an ounce surprised. But he wanted you back, and he was going to take what he wanted. He didn’t frankly care if you’d belong to the sky,
You were his angel first. And he’d rid those little wings of yours if it meant you were to never fly Away from him.
Not this time, not again
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You tiredly tapped your finger over the dinner table. Mind still racing with ideas, it was a cycle, coming up with something, but ultimately crossing it off the thinking board. Adam paid no mind for awhile as he chatted Away with Lute. Which was eyeing you suspiciously. And once Adam went back to his meal she quickly cleared her throat as she straighten her stance next to Adam “Miss Y/n, you haven’t touched your food.” She stated bluntly. Which made you snap out of thought as you turned you attention to her “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite today” you said softly pushing the plate stacked with food away form you.
“Are you really still hung up on that stupid shit little miss princess of hell proposed?” He scoffed. Causing you to huff, “I’ll be taking my leave.” You said plainly but as nicely as you could as you backed you seat from the table and stood up causing him to grunt. “Look angel, if I think about pushing the damn extermination back would you drop this?” He said making you quickly turn to him with a smile and nod. “There’s that smile, now sit down and eat I’m tired of thinking of all of this” he said as you agreed taking a seat.
Lute was appalled at how… how quick it was was all agreed. How could he just push it back so easily? Even if it was just him “thinking” about it. And for no reason other then you?, all though Adam was to In-grossed in his own things to question such things. She did not and quickly grew suspicious, you out of all people should be less worried. You have everything in a silver platter yet you still seem to have such a worry in matters that weren’t concerning you in the first place.
You could feel her eyes staring you down. But her suspicions were very much valid even if unfortunate to your case. You’d have to be more careful, if she caught on, she’d be quick to make Adam question aswell.
You cursed yourself slightly but still happy non the less. Even if you got Adam to consider the possibility of pushing the date back was still a progress!.
You were sure to tell Charlie soon, although you’d have to wait till lutes suspicions and stares would die down so you could slip away.
Your patience were never ending, but oh how much you longed for the man you’ve last seen years ago.
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TYSM FOR READING AH I LOVED WRITING THIS AGAIN TYSM FOR THE LOVE ON NY LAST POST, ILL BE SURE TO WORK ON SOEM REQUEST BUT PLEASE BE ASSURED PART 3 WILL BE POSTED AFTER I DO SOME REQUEST. ٩(ᐛ)و
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kingkatsuki · 4 months
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Imagine older retired Pro-Hero Dynamight who hasn’t really been in the public eye since his early days. Leaving his successful Agency in the hands of Red Riot after the press come for him in a vengeful witch hunt when he fails to save twenty innocent civilians who are crushed when a building collapses due to his quirk misfiring. It doesn’t matter that the villain was in the line of sight and dodged at the last minute, it doesn’t matter that he himself tried to hold the building upright to stop it from collapsing— they just want someone to blame.
So twenty years later— when the line up of I’m a Celebrity is announced, the public are shocked to see his name on the lineup. Even more so when he actually goes into the jungle, far more calm and collected compared to the brash, aggressive Pro-Hero they remembered. Blond hair now tinted a silvery grey, messy stubble beginning to shadow his face as he spends time in the jungle with his other camp mates. Many of the posts online talk about how shocked they are that he’s still alive, but most talk about how disgusted they are that he’s in the jungle this year. It brings up a lot of negative memories from what happened that day, and it does nothing at first to help his image. But of course, Red Riot is the ever supporting best friend on social media as he posts tweet after tweet in support of Bakugou.
But a few days in, he begins to open up about his life after that moment— things that he hasn’t shared with anyone outside his circle before— things the public don’t know about what happened that day. Sharing a vulnerable side of himself that no one expected, and it makes them start to root for him again all those years later.
But most of all they start rooting for you and him together. Finding out that he’s never had a serious relationship, and that he’s been single for years. And you, as one of his camp mates, have been unlucky in love for quite some time. Always managing to choose the wrong guy, or your career being in the public eye scares most potential suitors away.
He’s older than you— a fact that makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in you as you continue to crush on him inside the camp. The public go wild when you confess your crush on Bakugou to the girls you’re sharing the camp with, their squeals enough to alert your other camp mates but you hope Bakugou doesn’t work out why. And you have no idea that he actually feels the exact same way you do.
So the public watch the way you and Bakugou interact while you’re in the jungle, having those late night talks by the fire when everyone else is asleep, being tasked to do chores together and the supportive words he shouts specifically for you whenever you’re voted to do a trial together. And the best part about it is neither of you even realise the public are rooting so strongly for the two of you to get together because you’re completely cut off from everything inside the jungle.
So much so that the public are even trying to demand that there’s a King and Queen of the jungle this year because they want you both to win together.
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quimichi · 1 month
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₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.
warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3
summary: You meet their families
characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader
word count:
a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(
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Riddle
Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.
Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."
Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:
"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"
It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.
"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.
"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.
"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.
"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.
Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.
"...Then do."
Trey
Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!
The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.
Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.
"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.
His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...
Cater
Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.
Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.
"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.
His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.
"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."
The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.
This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.
"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.
He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."
Ace
Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.
"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.
"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."
"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.
Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.
"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."
Deuce
His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"
Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"
She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.
She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.
"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."
Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.
"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"
Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....
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rin-fukuroi · 2 months
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𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]
Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.
The originals of my works can be read here
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Pairings: Aventurine x dealer!fem!reader
Warnings: gambling, sexual tension.
Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq I'm just starting my blog on Boosty, but I'll be glad if you support me with a subscription and read the full NSFW version of this work there. Soon there will be other works that will not be published on Tumblr.
▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. VIVIZ — MANIAC
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You have long heard from other casino employees about a certain visitor, which comes here quite often, but you have never been lucky enough to meet him until today. The girls sighed languidly, referring to him as a handsome man, preparing to serve him the best drink, for which he would pay generously, and the men working in security only irritably noted that if he visited the institution today, they would only have more work. Then you didn't pay any attention to their words until one of the bar staff squealed with delight, energetically pointing at the blond man who entered the hall.
A dazzling smile, a light gait, but a sly look hidden behind gold glasses, gliding across the tables and the employees standing behind them before playfully sparkling violet-blue eyes rest on you. Your back straightens reflexively, and your fingers wrap around the back of your hand, and you nod in greeting when several men, led by a blond man, approach your poker table. You have been working in the field of gambling for several years, so you can easily notice expensive watches, chains and rings on his hands and a long earring in the ear of an elegant man in a hat, dressed in a black jacket with a fur collar, a turquoise shirt with a small but provocative neckline on the chest and white trousers with patent leather shoes. In total, all the clothes and trinkets of this person can be compared to the cost of your life. Winning will not matter to him, as losing will not greatly affect the quality of his life, which means he simply enjoys a sense of excitement and superiority, since, according to rumors, he plays very well.
«Well…»
— Oh? I haven't seen you before, — the blond man lowers his glasses on the bridge of his nose, smiling slyly at you as soon as you raise your head.
— I'm sorry, sir, today I'm serving you, because the dealer who is more familiar to you is ill, but I assure you, this will not affect the quality of the time spent in our institution in any way, — you kindly answer with a calm expression on your face, which causes the blonde to chuckle softly.
— How official! Relax, honey, — the man leans lower, slightly tilting his head to one side, carefully watching how the expression on your face changes to a more tense one. — It's a pity that… Oh, what was her name? — the blonde pulls away, thinking for a second, trying to remember the name of your colleague, but in the end only sighs briefly, spreading his hands. — It doesn't matter. You've been brought up to date, that we're going to need a separate room, haven't you?
— Yes, sir. Please follow me.
An unpleasant person. It was clear from afar that it was better to stay as far away from him as possible. These vibes of nauseating self-confidence and narcissism definitely don't bode well, but you still humbly do your duty, pulling on a smile and letting the guests into the VIP-room. Usually this room is rented by companies of influential people whose names are so well known to everyone that such guests don't even bother to introduce themselves, because you always know who they are, but these men… You're seeing them for the first time.
Anyway, a job is a job.
— Have a seat, dear guests. Would you like to see the bar menu?
Men in suits silently take their seats, and only an energetic blonde immediately responds to the sound of your voice, standing in front of the last empty chair.
— We'll order the same as usual,— the stranger says sweetly, spreading into a frighteningly sweet smile that sends chills down my spine.
— I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know…
— Oh, how could I forget! — the blond man clasps his hands in a gesture of apology. — Whiskey on the rocks.
His theatricality is a little annoying, but that's none of your business.
— As you wish, sir.
The female silhouette peeking out from behind the slightly open door and instantly disappearing after the blonde's words only made your task easier, allowing you not to even leave the room. It seems that this man is really very popular among girls, which, in principle, isn't surprising. A pretty face, a thick purse and a sugary voice, like a demeanor, are the pillars that support the classic image of a heartthrob in the eyes of any woman. It would be fascinating if you hadn't met such people before. This place is teeming with both men and women, sometimes even reasonably believing that the whole world belongs to them. Perhaps you would have bought into his charisma too, if you were as frivolous as a bar employee rushing into a room no more than five minutes after the order was placed.
— Thank you, dear. As always, you help out, otherwise my friends seem to be out of sorts today, — the blond man chuckles melodiously, looking at the other five guests. You can almost see in their stern looks the desire to strangle this talkative flatterer, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.
— Anything for our beloved visitor! Have a nice game, — your friend blushes, smiling shyly before leaving the room, barely restraining a satisfied squeak.
You modestly clear your throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table to yourself.
— Well, gentlemen, shall we begin?
You leave the button* in front of the blond man sitting first on your left hand. Early* is the most unfavorable position to start the game, but he should have known about it when he sat down here, or is it just an accident?
After the preflop*, while you were deftly shuffling the deck in your hands, someone had already started emptying their glass of whiskey, someone took out a pair of fragrant chocolate cigars. The blonde just watched carefully how skillfully you dealt the cards, not missing a single movement of your fingers. For a second, you even doubted that he didn't trust the new dealer, but every time you dared to look at him, his lips stretched into an even more sugary smile, and his eyes always found yours. Is he trying to get you into the same emotions as the silly waitresses? You wonder how soon he'll lose interest in your indifferent face?
The game went on quite calmly until three people remained at the table, including a smiling blond man.
— Ace of hearts, two of spades, jack of hearts, ten of clubs, two of hearts. The bets are made, you can open, — you say in a monotone voice, glancing at the cards on the table that turn over one by one.
«Street? Not bad…» — you stop looking at the blond's cards before you hear a thud on the table. After looking at the other hands it became clear that there is nothing on the table stronger than two pairs.
— Oh, don't get mad! We've just started, — the blond man raises his hands in an innocent gesture, chuckling softly, it seems, making the man opposite even angrier.
It seems that now you understand a little what the casino guards were so unhappy about, but the more games passed, the more sad the blonde's position became. The empty glasses were hastily replaced with newly filled ones with a new portion of whiskey, and the concentration of smoke in the small room became more and more suffocating, it seems, only exposing the undisguised glee of the men at the table, allowing themselves to mock the blonde, who was catastrophically unlucky today. A flush* against a royal flush, a pair against a square* and, in the end, his hand could only boast of the highest card*. What a disappointment.
— Here, order yourself one more whiskey, — one of the departing men casually tossed a couple of chips in front of the blond man sprawled on a chair, grinning hoarsely before staggering slightly out of the room after the other four, whose loud voices disappeared into the noise of the casino outside the door.
— Sure, — the man who remained at the table smiled gently at the departing acquaintance before taking a sip from his glass.
You wanted to say something, maybe even encourage him, but it's not your way to mind your own business, so you just silently gathered the cards from the table, about to ask the guest to leave the room, when suddenly he spoke first.
— That's not what you expected, is it? — you turn to the blond man, who is resting his head on his own palm. The same strange smile is still playing on his lips, even despite how much money he left at this institution today. He's really weird.
— I don't know what you mean. I don't know how you play, so I couldn't even try to predict the outcome of the game.
— Come on. You know how I play. That girl from the bar told you about me, didn't she?
Annoy.
— Even so, I'm not used to trust rumors, — you reply indifferently, carefully putting the cards back in the box.
— In that case, now you can conclude that I'm a lousy player? Oh, that would be unfortunate, because everyone has unlucky days.
— I don't think it's about luck, — you wanted to say that someone should just drink less and make less risky bets, but you restrained yourself, maintaining professionalism.
— Ho-oh? Then what is it? — the blond man perked up even more, waiting curiously for your answer.
— It is not appropriate for me to give advice to visitors, because my earnings, among other things, depend on them.
— That's how it is! So I was wrong when I decided that you weren't like the other girls looking at my wallet?
— It turns out that it is. But I'm looking at the wallets of every potentially profitable player for me, — you shrug your shoulders. — And now, if you'll excuse me, you should leave the room, since the game is over.
— How pragmatic, you remind me of someone I know, — the blond man, as if he hadn't heard your last words, gets up from his chair, coming closer. — So you don't believe in luck, huh?
The man leans slightly forward, looking into your eyes from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. The expensive sweet fragrance of the perfume instantly cuts into your nostrils, and you take a small step back.
— It's absurdly to rely only on luck in poker. That's all I wanted to say.
— Hm-m … — the blond man pretends to think. — You're right. Then what about roulette?
— Even roulette has its own patterns, but if we don't go into details, of course, this game revolves exclusively around chance.
— Great! Then can we play? — the man turns towards the roulette table, which has apparently not been used for a long time, in the corner of the room.
— I'm afraid my shift is already over… — you frown, even before you finish, he interrupts you.
— Oh, I was so catastrophically unlucky today that I just want to win back at least another game, otherwise I won't be able to sleep peacefully tonight… Are you really that heartless?
— You can use the services of a croupier and play roulette in the hall.
— It would be sad, because I already liked you, — the blonde smiles, looking into your eyes again.
— If you're trying to flirt with me like that, then I'm in a hurry to upset you — it won't work, — you reply irritably, about to leave, when suddenly a weak grip on your wrist stops you.
— I'm sad to hear that, but what if I make a bet?
You turn around, batting your eyelashes in puzzlement when you meet the sharp gaze of a man's violet-blue eyes.
— You can't play roulette without betting, what's the point of all this?
— Let's say… if my bet plays out, you owe me a kiss, what do you say?
You almost boil with anger, looking at this personification of self-confidence standing in front of you.
— I'm not going to play your games, let go of my hand.
The attempt to pull back your hand was unsuccessful, on the contrary, only forcing the blond to pull you closer.
— It seems that luck isn't on my side today, so if I lose, I'll just leave.
The desire to just slap him in the face is almost impossible to ignore, but you wouldn't be working here if you weren't a gambling person too. Your lips stretch into an arrogant smile as you approach the blond man's face, slightly squinting your eyes.
— In that case, on what number* will you put it on?
The blond man's eyebrows rise, after which a ringing laugh is heard in the room.
— I knew you could entertain me! — the man lets go of your hand, but does not take a step away from you before saying softly. — I'm betting on zero.
«He's crazy!»
You almost laughed at how crazy his bet turned out to be, but it sounds like he's already agreed to leave you alone, so you just smiled, silently retreating to the corner of the dimly lit room. The table has indeed not been used for a long time, having already become covered with a layer of dust, but you take a small ball, gently rolling it in your hand before turning towards the blond man who remains standing at the poker table. He doesn't seem to care at all that he's going to lose now, and the smile doesn't leave his face for a second. It will be all the sweeter to see how the expression on his face will change when he loses.
— Your bet is accepted, — you say loudly before spinning the roulette wheel by throwing a ball at it.
The man doesn't even look at the spinning roulette wheel, instead watching your eyes follow the ball as it slides across the sectors.
12, 35, 3, 26, and finally….
— It can't be… — you whisper, eyes wide open and just looking at how the ball stopped at zero.
— Ho-oh? What's is it? Judging by your reaction, did I win? — the blond man grins, slowly removing his hat from his head and leaving the hat on the edge of the poker table.
This can't be happening. Betting on numbers is always a huge risk, because the chance that the ball will stop at the chosen one is incredibly small. Was he… really just lucky?
You purse your lips, summoning all the self-control you have to turn to the man with an indifferent expression on your face.
— That's right, congratulations on winning, sir.
— M-m… it's not just a win, you remember the conditions, right? — the blond man says playfully, slowly walking towards you, until finally he towers over you, elegantly ripping the glasses off his face.
«This jerk has probably been rehearsing this for years…»
— I didn't have to accept such bets at all, — you mutter irritably.
— I understand your disappointment, but still, you accepted it. Be kind enough to hand me my prize, — you look into the extraordinarily beautiful eyes of a man, trying your best to deny how really attractive he looks without glasses and a hat.
— Ahem… okay. But can I at least get your name? I wouldn't want to kiss a complete stranger.
— Huh? So you don't know who I am? How cute, — the blond man squints, breaking into a smile. — You can call me Aventurine. And you… — the man hooks the badge on your chest with the tip of his finger. — Y/N.
Where have all your old composure gone? They probably got lost somewhere in the midst of this madness, which for some reason you signed up for, following your own excitement. Self-confidence is just as much your enemy as Aventurine, only in this case he is elated with victory, and you are trying to collect your thoughts in order to fulfill the conditions of the game he started.
— Excuse me… — you mumble awkwardly before pressing your lips to the man's cheek, leaving as quick a kiss as possible to hastily turn away, hiding the blush that has appeared on your face.
— Hey! And what was that? — Aventurine says in disappointment, touching the place of your kiss with the tips of his black-gloved fingers.
— You asked for a kiss, but didn't specify which one, — you try to sound confident, but still mentally berate yourself for not being able to look into his eyes right now.
— Oh… — the blond man sighs heavily, pulling away and approaching the roulette table. — I'm not satisfied with such a victory. Let's do it again.
— Huh?! — you cry out indignantly, looking at the back of the impudent man rolling the ball around the zero sector. — I shouldn't be here at all, and neither should you!
— I'm betting on zero again.
You freeze, raising an eyebrow when you turn to Aventurine.
— You're going to lose.
— Maybe, — the man shrugs, turning to face you and leaning on the edge of the table. — But if the bet plays out again, you'll give me a real long kiss.
— I'm not going to waste my time on this madness. The chances of hitting zero a second time are so small that it's easier for you to just leave this room right now, since it's simply impossible to play this bet.
— Let it be so. You don't lose anything if you're so sure of my defeat, do you? Besides, didn't you say that you don't give advice to the players?
It annoys you how logical his words sound. But what's even more annoying is that you really doubt it. It's just not possible. You have to show this arrogant idiot his place.
— Okay, — and here you go back to the roulette table again. — But if you lose, you will never return to this casino again.
Aventurine's purple eyes widen before flashing a gambling spark.
— And you know how to make the game more interesting, — the man grins, picking up the ball from the table, carefully leaving it in your hand. — I agree.
This will be the craziest bet anyone has ever made in the entire existence of this casino. And it only fuels your interest too. You spin the wheel in anticipation by throwing the ball. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as if your own life is at stake. It's been a long time since you've experienced such adrenaline, no matter how absurd what's happening, because it's worth it to win…
— Ha-ha! It seems that today is really my day, — Aventurine grins as the ball slowly rolls and stops at sector zero. Again. — The money I lost in poker was worth spending all my luck on such a tempting prize.
Impossible. He just did the impossible. What were the chances? The mind is so devastated by shock that you can't even approximate the probability, just silently looking at the green sector in amazement.
— You're not… cheating, are you? — you're almost whispering, without opening your eyes from the little ball.
— What cruel accusations! How, tell me, could I cheat at roulette? — the man clicks his tongue in frustration, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling your body towards his. — If these are just assumptions without any evidence, I think it's time to start awarding the second prize.
The lips open, releasing a soft sigh into the air. You feel the warmth emanating from his body, the smell that his nauseatingly expensive clothes exude, and you feel his measured breathing on the skin of your face when Aventurine bends down, almost touching his lips to yours and freezes.
— I'll make it easier for you this time, — the blond whispers, letting his warm breath caress the delicate skin of your lips.
— What do you mean?.. — the only thing you managed to say right before Aventurine's lips covered yours.
Long fingers dive into your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back, and he deepens the kiss, insistently making his way with his tongue through your lips, which are not too resisting. A soft moan dissolves in Aventurine's mouth, and your fingers desperately cling to the fabric of the shirt on the man's chest, but still you respond to the kiss, allowing your tongue to stick out a little further, slowly waltzing in tandem with his. The shock was instantly replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and a flutter in his chest. It seemed that this kiss lasted forever, so harmonious, gentle, but passionate, as if you have known each other for so long that Aventurine doesn't need much effort to make you melt in his hands, which you allow to touch your body.
Lips gasp for air as soon as Aventurine pulls away, looking at your flushed, relaxed face, which isn't touched by the former cold indifference with which you looked at him all evening.
It's a strange feeling. From the very beginning, when you saw this man, the only thought that you would never in your life become infatuated with just his presence somewhere nearby was ingrained in your head, now fighting for supremacy with the unwillingness that he would let you go. You shouldn't give in to this.
You gently press on Aventurine's chest, shuddering as soon as you feel his warm skin under your fingertips, noticing that you touched this very seductive neckline.
— Is that all? I have to go… — you say softly, trying to get out of Aventurine's hands, but he's not even going to let go of your waist or your cheek, to which his palm is still pressed.
— Really? Well, then I won't hold you back, — the blond man grins, still continuing to prevent your imaginary escape.
— Then let me go. I gave away your winnings and I don't owe you anything else.
— Yes, you did, — the man whispers, gently stroking your cheek with a thumb in a leather glove.
You look at each other without saying a word and freeze like statues. The muffled sounds of slot machines, clinking glasses and laughter come from the hall outside the door, breaking the silence that hangs between the two of you, but you can't hear anything else except your own rapid heartbeat throbbing in your ears. A strange warmth spreads in your chest, gradually sinking down, and a heavy weakness settles in your legs, which doesn't allow you to move from your place.
«What are you doing, Y/N?», — you ask yourself one last time before you swear unintelligibly under your breath, grabbing Aventurine's shirt in order to involve the man in the kiss again. Greedy, careless, but you needed it. The blonde's palm shamelessly moves to your buttocks, covered with black trousers, gently squeezing the elastic flesh, and your fingers slowly slip under the neckline in the shape of an inverted heart, caressing the heated skin of Aventurine's chest.
— W-wait… — you suddenly break off the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at the purple irises covered with long eyelashes.
— What's is it? I won't complain that the dealer is harassing me if you're worried about it, — Aventurine grins, forcing the expression on your face to change to the old irritation.
— This is wrong. I don't have to…
— I don't care about the rules, — the man tilts his head to one side, smiling playfully. — I'm betting on black.
— What? — you ask discouraged, watching the man's fingers hastily undoing the buttons of your white shirt.
— If I win, now you'll be my prize, — Aventurine winks at you before opening the cotton fabric on your chest, noticing you are wearing a black lace bra. — Tsk-tsk, how unlucky you are today. I won again.
✧ ✧ ✧
The button is a special chip marked "D", transmitted clockwise and identifying the dealer (in this case, the dealer is an employee of the casino, so the button only determines who will bet first).
The early position is the player's place at the poker table, located immediately behind the dealer.
Preflop is the initial stage of the poker game, which includes the distribution of cards and the first bets, including blinds.
A straight is a combination of a sequence of five cards.
A hand is a combination of two cards in the player's hands.
A flash combination of five cards of the same suit.
Royal flush is the strongest combination of cards from 10 to ace of the same suit.
A pair is a combination of two cards of the same value (for example, two aces).
A square is a combination of five cards of the same value (for example, four aces).
The highest card is the card of the highest value of all lying on the table.
In roulette, it is possible to bet on one color, on even and odd numbers, and so on, including you can bet on a specific number, which is quite risky due to the reduced chances that such a bet will play, but the winnings from it are multiplied by 35.
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an-idyllic-novelist · 2 months
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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario
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warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.
Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.
If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.
With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)
Reblog to support content creators!
Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.
 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 
So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 
Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 
You, who believed in Charlie’s work.
You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.
You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 
He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 
Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 
You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 
In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 
When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 
Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 
Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 
When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 
He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 
He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 
Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 
A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 
Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 
Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 
As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 
And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.
It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 
One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 
Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 
Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 
Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 
That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 
THUD.
Shnk.
THUD.
C-crack.
THUD.
“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 
“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 
He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 
He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 
Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.
The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 
“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 
Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 
“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 
“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 
You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 
“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”
“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.
“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.
“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”
“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”
“Yes.”
“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”
“Yes.”
“Food for plants.”
“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 
Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 
“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 
Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?
You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 
You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 
Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 
Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 
Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 
They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.
You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 
“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 
“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 
“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 
Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 
He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 
Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 
He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”
Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 
You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”
Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.
“What-”
“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 
So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.
You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 
It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 
Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 
He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 
A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”
You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.
“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”
You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”
“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 
You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 
“It’s done.”
“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”
You faltered. “But -”
“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.
Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 
But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 
As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 
“Husk?”
“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 
“Thank you…for everything.”
His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 
He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 
And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 
What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 
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